#i took a sick day from work yesterday to read a fic

[cockfiends]

he’s so sassy

[yangkitties]

sick days ✩ p.sh

pairing: park sunghoon x gn!reader [established relationship] || word count: 0.7k genre: fluff || warnings: sick fic, nudity but in a non-sexual way, surprisingly proof read but as usual im not so sure </3, mentions of pills (hoon gives reader a tablet), lmk if i missed anything!! synopsis: being sick sucked. but it sucked a little less with sunghoon by your side, in sickness and in health. note: ngllll i liked the way this turned out <3 my idiot irl (gonna call her that from now on LMFAO) fell sick last week and i pulled this out of my ass to cheer her up :] oh and i fell sick like. day before yesterday. so. celebratory sick fic !! uhm anyways asks are appreciated plz come talk 2 me !! also sorry for the terrible formatting i couldnt find any other pictures that matched The Vibe yk >:(

You hated being sick. It was the worst feeling in the world. The absolute hatred you had towards the stuffy feeling of a clogged nose and the sluggish fatigue that settled into your bones could never be measured. And the worst part? You couldn’t even kiss your boyfriend to make you feel better. 

But Sunghoon was an angel whenever you got sick. He stuck by your side and took care of you and made sure you had everything you needed and more. 

And this time was no different. Flopping over in your shared bed, you groaned as you couldn’t move even an inch without feeling like your body was made out of jelly. 

‘Y/n stop moving so much, you’re going to make your body pains worse.’ Sunghoon walks in with a tray holding a bowl of hot soup and some tablets. ‘Eat. And then take these tablets. I called Jay and he said these should make you feel better soon.’

‘Hoon.’ You call out softly as you watch him collect the tissues lying around the room and throwing away the empty tablet sheets. He hums in response, mother hen mode taking over him as he moves around the room. 

‘Hoon, will you please feed me?’ You ask, voice low and stuffy. He giggles, turning to take a good look at you. ‘Oh my baby, come here.’ He helps you sit up before taking the bowl in his hands. He scoots closer to you, carefully feeding you spoon after spoon, rubbing your back when you cough, and gently kissing your forehead when you finish the bowl. 

As you gulp down your tablet, Sunghoon disappears into the bathroom to draw a bath for you. He comes out two minutes later, bottom of his shirt sprinkled with droplets. 

‘Hoonie… how’d you get splashed just filling up the tub???’ You question him incredulously. He just shrugs, giggling as he guides you to the bathroom. Slowly stripping you, he helps you walk to the tub, grip on your waist firm. 

You slip in slowly, the warm water a welcome feeling after the terrible temperature shifts you’ve had the whole day. Sunghoon silently begins to bathe you, softly scrubbing your arms and legs, and even going as far as to wash your hair. 

The silence is comforting, Sunghoon’s slender fingers massaging your scalp as you start to grow drowsy. ‘Hoon… thank you for this. ‘m so sorry you have to run around taking care of me..’ you apologise, genuinely feeling bad for making him work so much. 

He playfully pushes your head down a bit, clicking his tongue at you. ‘Be quiet Y/n, it’s literally my job to take care of you. What kind of idiot boyfriend leaves their partner to take care of themselves when they can barely move?’ He finished washing your hair, now moving onto slowly drying your hair with a towel. 

You wrap your arms around his damp waist, head nuzzling into the expanse of his abs. Finishing up with your hair, he places another sweet kiss on the crown of your head. He helps you dress into one of his oversized shirts and a pair of comfortable shorts, melting at how cute you looked. ‘C’mon baby, let’s get you to bed.’ 

Scooping you up in his arms bridal style, he carries you back to bed, placing you gently on the sheets. He tucks you in before moving away to change out of his damp clothes. 

A giggle slips past your lips as you watch him undress, a slight blush spreading across your face. ‘Like what you see, hm?’ He teases you, slipping into a shirt before walking over to sit next to you. 

‘Ugh, I absolutely hate not being able to cuddle you to sleep.’ You whine as he takes your hand in his. ‘I know baby, but if I fall sick, we just can’t cuddle for longer.’ He uses his other hand to trace the lines on your palm, shivers sliding down your body. ‘I hate it when you’re all sensible. What happened to my silly loser boyfriend?’ You grumble as he laughs, kissing your knuckles. 

You settle back into the pile of pillows, Sunghoon’s pretty nails tracing shapes and meaningless words onto your palm. You’ve always found that habit of his comforting, helping you sleep almost instantly. The combination of his lazy tracing and the medication you’ve been taking makes you insanely drowsy, so soon enough, you’re out like a light. You drift off into a comforting slumber, knowing he’ll be here when you wake up, waiting for you.

©️ yangkitties 2023 do not copy, plagiarise, or repost

[thewriterg]

♡︎naive little pup♡︎

Pairing(s): Peter Parker x afab!reader, Peter Parker x gn!reader, Naive!Peter x Dark!reader, Vamp!reader

Summary: Peter was having one of the most exhausting days of his life and he needed you to make it all better because in the end you were the only one who could —kinktober; day 3—

Word count: 1.3k+

Warning(s): Dry humping, m!receiving, dirty talk, dumbification, sub space, praise!kink, mommy!kink, Peter is a 18 year old senior in Highschool and language

A/n: —GIFs aren’t mine— You guys are gonna get two fic’s today because I missed yesterday I was really sick —food poisoning core— but we’re back now 🤭

You had been laying around your condo for at least two hours now as you lied down on the longest part of your mineral grey sectional couch with your eyes closed along with the your blackout curtains that blocked out the sunlight from your vision

You were a vampire, yes. But you weren’t the ones that sparkled in the sun or burned at the slightest kiss from it either.. well you were kinda in a way

You had This pretty little thing called daylight jewelry it kept you from burning towards your temporary death, you were a original vampire one of the first of the vampires to exist but if you were being technical you were the first to transition along with your siblings that you couldn’t bring yourself to be bothered with

But the ring on your middle finger allowed you to walk in the daylight freely you weren’t pale and your eyes weren’t a crimson red unless you were feeding your body worked as the normal human minus the fact you consumed blood to survive, your blood could be used to heal things, you could hear thing up to a thirty mile radius, you had superior strength and speed to average human being x100, and you just couldn’t seem to die.

You’re also over 1000 years old but you know just one of the side effects.

The only thing that caught your interest in the time of day were a dinging notification from your phone that you had kept one do not disturb 92% of the time tweaking your settings to only get important notification’s that involved some emails from witches that had owed you favors, updates about a spell book you wanted In particular, and Peter your sweet little naive pup

Peeling your eyes open you feel around for the Device when the cool screen finally came in contact with your fingertips you took it in front of your face coming into contact with the mid brightness of the screen

I need you sent 3:06

You’d had read over the message at least fourteen times in the last two minutes it was short a simple but it was so much more behind it and you knew that’s

What’s the matter with my pup? Do you need me to come pick you up Seen 3:09

You waited impatiently staring at the three dots that repeatedly blinked on your screen you were already throwing on your closest pair of boots you could find before your phone dinged again

Please mommy I need you right now sent 3:11

Peter had been a little more reluctant of getting out of bed this morning especially peeling away from your chest he couldn’t seem to let a one man job be done by yourself like brushing your teeth, picking out clothes, doing you hair and makeup

I’m on my way. Seen 3:11

Sliding your phone into your back pocket and not bothering to lock your door you cursed to yourself as you rushed down the stair well forgetting the elevator how couldn’t have you noticed

When you finally reached The parking lot You unlocked your car and we’re making a ten minute drive with traffic five minutes.

ꨄꨄꨄ

“I’m here for Peter Parker early dismissal” You stated to the secretary who barely batted an eye at you before pointing to the clip board with sign out sheets clipped to them which you rolled your eyes at scribbling down the Information it asked

“Excuse me Miss I would really appreciate if you get of your ass and get my kid” You hissed at the women who looked at you with wide eyes picking up the telephone after reading off what you assumed to be Peters’s schedule on the desktop

“He’s on his way mam you can sit in a chair if you’d like” The women warily offered without another word you pushed your sunglasses down on your face from where they rested on your forehead before sitting in one of the uncomfortable chairs with your leg bouncing up and down while you watched the hands on the clock move

It was at least five minutes before Peter buzzed through the the double doors as you stood immediately from your seat with your arms open prepared for embrace while Peter fell into them without hesitation

Ever since your relationship with Peter you had been.. more open to physical affection it wasn’t your favorite but you could comfort and maneuver with it well

“Hi honey” You muttered into the boys hair his grip didn't loosen once as he started to whine at the loss of contact when you pulled away while you shushed him softly

“Hey I know okay? I know but we’d be very more comfortable in bed than right here it’ll be a fast drive I promise” You offered to the boy who reluctantly nodded slipping his hand into your own while the both of you stepped out of the door you felt a nudge on your shoulder to see Peter blocking his eyes from the bright sun

You couldn’t help but stare in awe with a small chuckle while your took you own sunglasses off your own face while placing them on the bridge of Peters nose the black lenses dulling the bright sun before you two began to walk across the street

Just like you made a ten minute drive five arriving you did the same driving back to your condo eager to get the clingy teen into the safety of your home

ꨄꨄꨄ

You and Peter had been cuddling and engaging with skin to skin for a short while the only thing blocking you both was your tank top and underwear and peters basketball shorts you’d both taken a shower and after you’d force Peter to eat something having picked him up before lunch you’d been happy to give your pup some affection

You had been watching something random on the Tv finally using the surprise me button on a Netflix but it seemed just to be background noise now as you repeatedly ran your hand through his hair while he rested his face in your neck

You felt small movements on the little of your thigh and at first you thought Peter was just trying to get comfortable but when more than 30 seconds passed and you could start to feel Peter’s breath deepen against your neck making the small hairs stand up you knew it was different

“Do you have something to tell me baby?” You questioned softly while Peter let out a soft whine slowing his thrusting hips against your thighs but not coming to a complete stop

“I need you mommy please” Peter sniffled as he began to work his hips into your leg this time with your hands on his hips guiding them as you set mid pace you could feel his breath hitch on your shoulder

Peter’s arms tightened almost suffocatingly around your waist as your precious little spider continued to thrust his hips up to meet yours and if it weren’t for you being a vampire and having inhumanly healing he would’ve lefts makes

Hiding into the crook of you neck to hide poorly concealed cries and desperate whines Peter panted into your ears by hot breath sobs soon turning into hiccuping gasps when the tip of his cock would rub perfectly up into the fabric of his boxers hips angling to catch that spot every time

It wasn’t long before a startled cry left Peters lips his back arching up suddenly and hips stuttering before he barely registered something sticky splattering against his thigh head still spinning with the sensations feeling overwhelmed Peter buried his face into the crook of your neck peppering your shoulder in small kisses between mumbles of apologies as he still rocked his hips up to meet yours in the aftershocks of his orgasm

“It’s okay you did so good for me baby” You muttered into his hairline bringing the soft covers over his back muttering sweet nothings into his ear You had both fell asleep not long after the only thing on Peter’s brain is how’d he repay you

He had a few ideas in mind.

[fanfictilltheend]

❤️‍🔥Violent Heart my VERY DARK Stepdad!Mechanic!Convict Joel x Reader story snippet (preview) ❤️‍🔥

Hey!! You guys voted on which WIP you wanted a snippet from and you voted for this one: Violent Heart my VERY DARK no apocalypse slowburn Stepdad!Mechanic!Convict!Joel x Reader fic!! (Who likes the header I made???? thoughts??? thots???)

Part 1 of the story snippet // Part 2 of the story snippet // header/mood board with original image credits (please read all warnings for each part!)

Context for this snippet: Joel is Y/N's new stepfather and they're sitting on the couch talking. Y/N is a child (about 8).

WARNINGS: afab!you, mention of sarah dying, cancer mention, joel tears, hurt/comfort, use of Y/N, please use your best judgement and take care of yourself!!

“Joel?” she asks a little cautiously, breaking him from his thoughts. “Can I ask you something?”

“‘Course, kiddo,” he says as gently as he knows how.

“Who’s Sarah?”

His heart stops. His blood runs cold. 

“What? How did you–”

“You were talking. In your sleep yesterday,” she says, shrinking away a little and Joel feels sorry for scaring her again. “When we were watching Dexter. Well, you fell asleep right before. You were snoring and all, but you were also talking and mumbling that name. You sounded sad and scared.”

Joel should definitely not have allowed her to watch that! But that is hardly the point right now. 

His heart squeezes so tight it burns. What was there to say about Sarah – the entire reason his life had had any purpose? His perfect babygirl? The light of his life? 

He could lie. So easily too and Y/N would never know. He could say nothing at all. Hasn’t even told Erica about her yet. Hardly ever speaks to anyone about her these days.

And yet…

“She was my daughter,” he hears himself say softly. “She…got sick. Died of leukemia a while back. She was twelve.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the wallet he was just thinking about. Inside is a tiny school photo of Sarah – the last one she ever took. It’s faded a little, but she’s still smiling so big she could block out the sun. He shows it to Y/N.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” she says and she really does look sorry. 

Not the way his co-workers and customers say it – almost as a reflex – to fill the void in the conversation. Her eyes are shimmering.  

“Nothin’ to do about it now,” he shrugs, running his thumb over the photo paper, softened with age. “But she was so damn special. My whole world.”

He has learned to repress the tears, not to show weakness, that is not hard. Not anymore. But the anger that broils up inside him – the injustice of it all – how he was unable to help her. Unable to save her. He feels almost like a child again, powerless in an unforgiving, unrelenting world. He wants to fight back!

He is so angry he begins to shake and his hands clench into fists. 

He wants to flip over the fucking coffee table – fling it across the room! He wants to punch in the glass of the flickering TV screen until his fist is broken! He wants to–He wants–

He just wants his babygirl back...

A sob, small and foreign rises in his throat, but he pushes it down. 

He thinks Y/N knows though. Can see the vulnerability in his eyes.

She reaches out a small hand and touches his fist, pushes it down gently into the soft fabric of the couch so he’ll stop shaking. It doesn’t entirely work, but he thinks he appreciates the effort.

“I don’t know if this is the right thing to say,” she begins a bit skittishly, still not entirely trusting the hulking, raging man above her. “But I think I would have liked to have been her friend.”

And for the first time since Sarah died, Joel sobs. 

Y/N pops up from the couch and Joel’s heart cries out louder in his chest for her to come back, don’t leave me too as he tries to suck the tears back in. It doesn’t work though and liquid gushes down his cheeks. He doesn’t think he can take the rejection, the loss of her. But thankfully, she returns just as quickly as she went with a handful of tissues stuffed into her small fist. 

“Here, Joel,” she offers. “Here. Don’t cry.”

Joel does cry though. He’s ashamed he’s broken down in front of this literal child, and he doesn’t let out much noise, but he doesn’t take the tissues either. He can’t. 

She’s so sweet though, or maybe it’s because she is truly afraid of him now, of his wrath, he’ll never really know, but she frowns and reaches out a little hand, the one with the scar on the middle finger, and tries to wipe up the tears.

The paper of the tissue tickles his cheeks.

“Shouldn’t havta…” he tries.

“Didn’t mean to make you…” she answers.

A pause.

“You didn’t, honey. That was all me,” he assures her finally.

She lets out a sigh of relief and soaks up the last of the salt water from his face, brushes the tissue gently against his nose. It tickles, causes him to snort. He smirks a little.

She smiles back shyly, she can’t help it, he can tell. 

“You know,” he says thoughtfully after a few moments of silence, sighing deeply. “I reckon she would’ve wanted to be your friend too…”

[juvenillia]

~ Death of Peace of Mind ~ 05: defeat

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader

photo credits go to very talented @ave661

a/n: I already have eleven chapters ready of this story and I can't believe that I started it as little collections and now we're deep in a full on fic, always glad to hear your thoughts and thanks for reading

CW/TW: mentions of trauma, loss, ptsd, smoking, guilt, rebuke, death, mental sickness

wordcount: 2.7k

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Simon was already in the shared office working on his reports from yesterday's mission. He had an unpleasant night, and especially weird dreams and for this reason he decided to head to the office rather early. His mind went through the whole mission process from yesterday while working through the report. His thoughts always stopped back at you. The way this mission could've ended in a complete disaster if even one of you messed up, but you were able to hand it down so smoothly together. The way you instantly understood him and the way both of you worked perfectly in tandem. He was impressed, he wouldn’t tell you, but he was indeed impressed. He shook his head and kept writing until he heard a dull clonk in front of him. Johnny placed a mug in front of him, Simon raised his brows at him. "Dinnea gimme that look. Kyle made it.", he chuckled and hold tight onto his own cup filled with coffee and Simon smiled only the slightest and took a sip out of the mug.

Johnny eyed over the already written parts and smiled content. "Lass's fitting in quite good, eh.", he finally said before moving over to his desk. Simon didn't answer. He knew what Johnny wanted to express, but Simon was still so guarded about you. Sure, the stories Price and you shared yesterday helped a lot. It showed him that you could be able to be trusted, but you still had to earn it, and if he was honest, he didn’t seem to understand your behavior around the base. Johnny stirred clearly absent in his mug, rubbing his still tired eyes. 

You, however, were already in the gym running kilometre after kilometre on the treadmill. For a few hours, you could finally find some rest, sleeping without any presence of any images before your eyes. The alcohol provided you some peace, but as soon as you woke up, everything was over. You unlocked your phone and were instantly greeted by a name and realization hit right into your head. You wanted to text her last night. You wanted to apologize for everything. You wanted to be there for her today, but you couldn't. A huge discomforting rage boiled up inside your stomach, and that's why you decided to hit the gym as early as possible to get the frustration out of your system. But nothing seemed to work. After you felt a huge exhaustion creep over your body, you stopped the running and decided to get your reports ready.

After the first smoke, before even hitting the gym, you already mapped everything for the report out. You only needed to write everything neatly down and planned on handing them over to the Lieutenants desk as soon as possible to spend the rest of the day with yourself alone. You couldn't bear anything today. You even thought about asking Price for permission to leave the base for today. Taking your motorbike and just driving around the landside until you forget about this god damn anniversary. An anniversary you never wanted to even have to think of. But as soon as you would've asked Price, he would be questioning it, and you didn't want to talk about it. You didn't want to risk anything. So, you made your way up to the office to hand the files over to just hide yourself away for the rest of the day.

You entered the office, and both Soap and Ghost were already on their desk, greeting you silently. Soap with his signature smirk and Ghost – as always – just nodding along. "Morning."You bluntly made your way up to Ghost's desk and put the files on top of it. He just eyed you and nodded, pleased that you were already finished. He was used to it to run after every bloody report since Kyle and Johnny never had a big interest in getting the paperwork done. "Slept well, bonnie?", Soap's voice caught your attention, and the smile he wore kept it. Soap looked in your face and could suddenly feel a huge urge to wrap his arms around you. You looked miserable. Every glimpse of energy your body had left after that night, was gone after the excessive workout in the morning. The Scot immediately regretted his question. "Yer alright?", he added in a way more concerned voice, standing up and getting a bit closer to you. He would never want to disturb you, to invade your personal space, but right here, right now, he just wanted to reach out and help you.

You immediately stepped back, looking tired at him. You waved it off. Also, Ghost saw that you weren't alright. His attention laid onto you, even putting down his pen to watch carefully. "Just tell me if I can help with something. Eh.", he said while keep standing in place. The urge to just hold you grew with every second. Soap remembered how comforting a simple and honest hug can be. It can help healing and Soap couldn't stand seeing you so devastated.

"I'm fine. Just need some rest.", you lied half-assed with a forced smile. Soap stepped a bit forward. "Just let me know, will ya. We’re team, y’know.", he placed a hand on your shoulder. Just gently brushing over it and you immediately shoved his arm away. "Mind your own fucking business, okay.", you snapped and hissed even sharper than intended. Your eyes looking in completely disgust at his shocked eyes. He only nodded so slightly but with pure sadness written all over his face. Before Ghost could even intervene, you left the office. Your steps carrying you away as fast as possible.

You felt so pathetic. Curled up in yourself on top of your bed clinging onto the little plate between your fingers. It originally shiny metal was used, scratched and there was a huge piece missing at one of the corners. Tears streamed down your cheeks. You weren't allowed to show any weakness, but here within the safety of your own walls you could be vulnerable. You could scream and cry as much as you needed. As much as you tried to block out your emotions, you were only human, and the immense guilt ate you up. You lifted it up, pressed the cold metal against your forehead, just like he always did. You imagined him here with you, his hands caressing your cheeks, teasingly telling you how ugly you looked when crying. A desperate laugh escaped your lungs and you wished for silence. Some peace for your God damn mind. You wished to trade places with him.

All the years of being part of the military taught you many things. How to help others, how to turn even the shittiest situation around, how to read people, how to trust people, but it also taught you how to close off for the rest of the world. It taught you how to isolate yourself, just in case. Because what it showed you, is that even if you tried you best, you could never save all of them. You were just a pawn in a chess match. Completely interchangeable, and nobody cared about the tragic things you had to experience. Nobody cared about the loss you had to process. All the years had built a cold wall around you, forcing yourself to shut down. Shut down your emotions after the first time you lost someone. The first time you had to suffer from this immense guilt.

Afterwards you were not more than a vessel. Send out to kill, living to obey. Your life was nothing more than an order. You saw your days unfold without a meaning. Without a reason to go on. There was just that duty to fulfill. Then, without a warning he came into your life. He took your hand and pulled you up from the ground of the ocean. He literally saved you from drowning. He showed you, how beautiful this life can be even with the job you had to do. He showed you reasons to fight for, to live for. He brought the version of yourself back that was long forgotten and with him you learned a way of living that you never wanted to give up. You learned so much, you felt so much. You were so blind, and he taught you to see again and now, your only wish was to see him again. See his dumb smile again, hear his voice again, but he was gone.

You didn't know how much time went by, but when you stood up once more your glance wandered to the window, showing you an already stained red sky. You were surprised that literally nobody came along. Scolding you for being nothing than a futile, but you didn’t care. You went into the bathroom, splashed your face with some cold water, not even daring to look into the mirror and went outside. Trying to calm your nerves with a smoke before hopefully being able to get some sleep tonight. Exhausting your body as far as possible that it would give in. You put the little plate into the box with your lighter and the cigarettes while sitting on the patio at the very back at the base. Praying that nobody, especially not Soap, would cross your way now. You didn’t care about seats. You just went to the very back, cross-legged leaning against the cold wall. Box placed next to your still trembling body. Lighting one of the cigarettes and let your thoughts roam over everything you gave up and left behind because of your own stupidity. The smoke bringing back a familiar raspy feeling into your throat.

You noticed a few cracks of the wooden floor, means someone walked over it, but you didn’t give it a second thought. Until you heard someone clearing his throat. Your head tilted into the direction, and you were met with a 6'2 huge statue. Your head immediately fell back against the wall while you took a long drag from your fag. He came closer, you could feel the wood beneath you vibrate. “We need to talk.”, his voice was even deeper, rougher than you remembered. “Not interested.”, you breathed it out with a thick cloud of smoke. He was standing right next to you, “That wasn’t a request, Sergeant.”

A sigh escaped your throat with some more smoke. You pushed yourself up, not facing him, leaning against the wall with your back, dragging at the fag again. Ghost could see your exhausted face, he could see your swollen eyes. He knew you were anything but alright, but he wasn’t able to keep himself together, not after this morning. “You stepped a line.”, he exhaled cold, keeping his gaze onto your figure. You put the fag out on the heel of your boot, “Don’t think so.” Your eyes were pinned onto the fence in front of you. “Look at me when we’re talking.”, he demanded cold while stepping even further to you. You bit the inside of your cheek, before pushing yourself off the wall and facing him. Your eyes still burning, you investigated his. “And now?”, your tone was broken bur stern. He bended himself a bit over, to lower himself on eye level with you. “Now you tell me what the bloody hell you think you’re doing.” – “I’m doing my job, Lieutenant.”

He was close, and you could once more feel his hot breath through his mask brushing over your skin. This time was different because his eyes told you something you haven’t seen till now. They hold a death glare, and they wouldn’t let you go. “So, your job is to mess with my Sergeant.”, his voice was cutting right through your mind. Your brows narrowed, and your tongue clicked, “You really have to play babysitter here?” His hands balled to fist, his knuckles turning white. During the training, he was pissed, but this mood was very different. He really could tear you apart, and maybe something inside you just wanted it. That he would punish you the way you deserved it. You deserved to be yelled at. You deserved to be punched. For all that you did, for all that you said. The incident with Soap was just to the top of the iceberg.

“Listen closely.”, he leaned back and straightened up, looking condescending down at you. “I don’t care who you think you are. I don’t care where you came from.”, you could definitely see his jaw clench, even hidden behind the mask. His arms crossed before his chest, “I don’t care how decent the job is you make. I don’t care about your sloppy skills.”; that was an understatement, “and I don’t care what Price sees in you.”, that was straightforward a lie. “If you treat the members of this team like rubbish, it will be my pleasure to show you your place.” His harsh tone sent shivers down your spine. He didn’t yell, but this low, cold voice was worse. “If they decided to trust ya and even help yer pathetic self, then at least be polite with them. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee for anything.” His accent was thick, and you swallowed hard. Still staring into those eyes that could kill you alone with their glance. “I’m not gonna let ya destroy what we built up.”, he added with a hiss through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, it hit you like a ton of bricks. This situation, this conversation, all of it felt too familiar. Another wave of guilt washed over your mind. He is still staring at you, boring daggers into your head, waiting for a response. Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes. That was the moment you broke eye contact. Turning your head back to the ceiling in front of you. Your finger started fidgeting with the hem of your pocket. “Yes, sir.”, you bit your lip, not able to produce more words while the lump in your throat grew bigger and bigger. Ghost only blinked at your response. From all what he learnt about you, he was prepared. Prepared to have a full-on argument, screaming at each other, fighting, but that you would just stand here. Completely defeated, that was something he wasn’t prepared of. Without a word, you left for your barrack and left an utterly confused Lieutenant back at the patio. Just as you walked around the corner, the tears started to run over your cheeks again. Where was the persona that took over to protect you in such a situation? Your ptsd always hitting in the wrong moments, but never when you could really need this different personality.

Ghost was left behind, his eyes followed as you left and went back to the place, he found you. His head started to hurt. “Bloody hell… women...”, he exhaled calm while staring at the now empty place. What he found instead of your figure was a little blue box made from wood. A shark engraved on it. He shouldn’t open it, but it also could’ve been something he needed to know. Something that could help to put you in your place for the next time. He just looked back to the path you just trailed off, just in case for you to grab it, but there was no sign of you coming back, so he decided to open it. In the box, he only found some cigarettes, a brand he was unfamiliar with, a lighter, and something that caught his interest the most. He pulled out a damaged dog tag and observed it. His eyes softened slightly, and he once looked more in the direction you went off. He shoved everything back in the box and wanted to bring it back to you. That was something important to you, and the guilt that washed over him because you left it behind because of him hunted him. He had no right into digging into your private belongings.

“Lt. Ya commin?”, Johnny’s voice brought him back. He stood some feet away from the terrace. Ghost only shoved the box into the pocket of his jacket before he walked over to catch some dinner with his teammates. He would give it back, but without the curious eyes from others. It was wrong enough that he invaded your privacy like that.

taglist: open just lmk

@yyiikes @saffronimagines @originaldeerhottub @illuminwtesz

[maleyhae]

VAMPIRE BOYFRIEND t.k x reader

vampire! tom kaulitz x reader

summary- on halloween night you and your boyfriend go as as draculas bride and vampire as for him to only actually get turned into one and not tell you till its to late (credit to my friend)

warning- cussing, sexual comments, cussing, not rushed for once, again as all my fics not proof read!

yesterdays post<3

i don't consent to my work being copied, translated, or posted on any other website thank you &lt;3

a/n- I was stressing about this while me and my friend made plans to go see the fnaf movie as micheal afton and c.c 😭also sorry it is short

TOMS POV:

I had already gotten ready for taking her cousin trick or treating but she was getting ready for it. But I'd be a liar to say she didn't look pretty. "Okay tommy i'm ready!" she said as she walked out looked drop dead pretty. "Alright lets go."

TIME SKIP

After we took her cousin, we went to a party a friend of mine was at and i had to take a piss so i told ___ and as i was pissing i heard the door open "HEY I'M IN HERA YOU DICKHEAD !" I said i didn't mean to come off rude but oh well. and it went dark "what the uc- OUCH!" I said turning around looking for the person, but no-one was there. I went back to ___ "Can we go home I don't feel good" I said not feeling very well after i got bite. "OfCourse, I wanted to get out of here anyways." she said, and we left. When we got home i took off the fake fangs and then i realized i was turning into a vampire. I was scared but not at the same time ___ has said she'd want to be fucked by a vampire a real vampire whatever that meant. So as I went to sleep we kissed God I could hear her heset best and her blood flow what the fuck. Maybe I had to much weed yeah that's why.

THE NEXT DAY :3

"Hey babe are you okay you look pale as fuck and you got some sharp ass teeth" I hear ___ say "Mhm just sick probably" "Or a vampire since I got bite last night" I said mindlessly "WHAT?" She yelled happily. "Damn you hotter than when you were as a human" she joked "Really?" I asked she nodded her head "nice" I mumble into a kiss as it had started getting heated till I said "M'hunrgy" as I licked and sucked on the left side of her neck "You can eat from me" she laughed

Fuck did I love being a vampire boyfriend

[3terna15unshin3]

Hey I have a request for a blurb. Matty and Este are both so career driven but what about something that makes them consider next steps? They’ve been together a few years at this point. I was just thinking about Este thinking she might be pregnant and Mattys reaction. Even if she isn’t but then they have to talk about what they both want from life and how old they are. Fluffy more than angsty?

Late

Este might be pregnant

2102 words

—

a/n: thank u sooo much for the request!!! In the past i’ve been feral at those interview clips of Matty talking about pregnancy scares and being up to have a baby and whatever so I am very much into this concept😝😝 I hope this is what u were looking for!

(I wrote a whole 15 chapter fic of this universe! read it here first if u want more Matty and Este 😌)

—

Este sighed, finally finishing her newest review and preparing it to be sent for approval. Her office was quiet, void of the few coworkers she shared it with due to the late hour. She’d called in the day before—a migraine and funny stomach holding her hostage—so she had a bit of housekeeping to deal with, and stayed past her usual time.

Once she’d packed up and left to her and Matty’s north London home, she sat in her own little world on the tube. Headphones tight over her ears. But as she stared down at her phone, the funny feeling her stomach came back.

It wasn’t uncommon for Este to get a bit motion sick; so she pressed the power button to turn off her screen. Avoiding her device would clear up the sickness eventually.

But it only got worse. So bad that when she got off at Queen’s Park Station, she walked the long way home to prolong the feeling of the evening air. Este thought about how a hundred years ago, doctors used to prescribe ‘sea air’ as a cure for being unwell. As if a walk on the beach could bypass a disease. She liked that idea, and suddenly yearned to be on the shore. To take in the smells. To eat some fish and chips. Fish and chips sounded really good, Este thought.

Matty had been working from home that day, corresponding with Jamie about some boring label stuff and hopping on call with his financial advisor. A pretty chill day, compared to the type he’d been working lately.

So, when Este arrived home, she found him on on the sofa with his nose in his laptop, Keiko crumpled against his thigh. She dropped her bag and politely shoved Keiko to the side after giving her a few pets, and took the spot in Matty’s lap instead.

“Hey.” he said with a chuckle, not even hearing her come through the door and smiling at the surprise. He buried his hand in her hair with love and studied her face that stared up at him. That’s when he noticed how the expression on her face was laced with discomfort. His eyebrows furrowed. “Is everything alright?”

Este pouted dramatically, making him roll his eyes. She giggled. “Yeah. Just feel a bit poorly from the tube home,” she explained, nuzzling deeper into his touch.

“From the tube? Since when do you get sick from the tube?”

Her shoulders shrugged. “Maybe I’m just not fully over what I was feeling yesterday.”

Matty pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. It felt normal. “Want me to run us a bath?”

She smiled at the sweet offer, and the fact that he knew that she loved a bath when feeling under the weather. But the more she considered it, the more she cringed at the thought.

“I was going to say yes, but a bath honestly sounds like the last place I’d want to be at the minute,” Este admitted.

He was taken aback. His hands grabbed Este’s shoulders to sit her upright and look at her head on. “Who are you and what have you done with my Este?”

She closed her eyes weakly and laughed—though it quickly turned to a grimace when the movement in her torso made her ache even more.

“Seriously, love! I don’t think you’ve ever declined a bath. Even last year when you had the flu and I was sure you’d pass out from the heat. You still said yes,” Matty pointed out.

“You’re right,” she agreed, “But don’t worry, I’ll just get some sleep. See how I feel tomorrow—“

“Have you had your period?”

They paused together after Matty interrupted her. It shut Este up quickly. Because she hadn’t.

She silently shook her head no in his direction. Wide eyes plastered her mug. “It’s late.”

Minds spinning, they sat quietly for another beat.

“Do you want me to go and get a test?”

-

Este took a wee on the stick. Matty set the three minute timer. And they waited.

“What if I am pregnant, Matty?”

They sat hip to hip on the edge of the bathtub as the clock counted down.

“I think I should be the one asking you that,” he responded, “Whatever you feel is right. That’s what we’ll do.”

She looked over at him in wonder and in slight apprehension. The overhead lighting casted shadows onto his face, showing its angularity and structure. It looked sharp, like it was carved out of something solid. But somehow it was sweet and soft. Peering at it was easy.

“But the next album. Tour. You either miss everything with me or you postpone your career. I couldn’t make you do that,” Este leaned her head onto his shoulder.

Matty’s hand wandered around to the opposite side of her waist and found home there. “Fuck that.” he said shortly. “There’s always time to release an album or to do a tour, darling. We can do that next year. The year after. 2040, even, if we need to. But this is right now. If you think I’d choose my ‘career’ over you, then you’re crazy.”

The timer beeped.

“I guess this is literally right now,” sighed Este, nerves bubbling throughout her body. She grabbed Matty’s chin to pull him in for a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he said, like he always did. “By the way—if there is a baby and what you want is to walk to a clinic and get rid—then I’d also support that,”

She laughed at the way he waved his hand in casual dismissal when he said ‘get rid’, grabbing it tightly as they both stood up and prepared to look. Matty had a sheepish grin on his face after succeeding in making her laugh during such a heavy moment.

They perched their feet in front of the sink, where the test laid. And after a quiet ‘Three, two, one,’ in unison, Este flipped it over.

It was negative.

Just to be sure, she took the four other tests that came in the pack that Matty bought. They were all negative.

Este then gave her GP a call to meet with her the next day and get to the bottom of her mysterious illness; now that pregnancy was off the table (at the appointment, she would come to learn that she had developed a slight sensitivity to gluten. She would also eventually get her period—a small but loud 4 days late).

Now sat back on the sofa, Keiko sprawled across their laps, a certain weight was lifted off the both of their shoulders. But, the future still seemed up in the air.

“What if those tests were positive?” asked Este, “Do you feel ready to have a baby? Is that something you want?”

The answer was easy, for Matty. “The idea of being a dad does excite me,” he explained truthfully, “It’s just been the question of when would be the right time—because of how busy and weird my life gets. And also just the fact that none of my previous relationships got to the point of even considering it, since they haven’t been you. But I feel like me and you are cut out for anything. I’d be ready, for you.”

She smiled and grabbed his hand to fiddle with it.

“I also look at the way we are now. Passionate about our work, Keiko, living life fully. And I think that if a baby never happens to fit into the picture—whether that be by choice or just by chance—then that would be okay too. It’s me and you. It’ll work out.” Matty explained, “Do you feel ready for a baby? Or even want one?”

“For a while I wasn’t keen on it. I think it came from a place of just being scared that I wouldn’t have the chance, you know? That nobody would ever love me enough to want to start a family. In Filipino culture, it’s so common to get married and have children in your early twenties. My mum had me at 22 and I wasn’t even an accident. So when I passed that age and was not anywhere near getting married, I was kind of bitter. Angry that people wouldn’t stop asking me about it. Now I’m just in awe to share my life with someone. To be so eager to expand that adoration. So I wouldn’t be opposed having a little baby. Seems like a worth-while thing to commit to with someone you love. With you,”

Matty brought her in closer, making her cuddle against his side and beneath this arm. He planted a kiss on her temple.

“I also will say this,” restarted Este, “I don’t think I’d want more than one.”

He brushed a wavy stray hair off of her forehead. “Oh—you already know I’d spoil the first one so much that we’d have no money left to have another,” Matty joked.

She giggled, silently picturing what it would be like. How Matty would probably insist on carrying the little boy or girl everywhere and refuse to put the task on her. How if they had long hair, he’d ask Este to teach him how to plait with excitement, even though he wouldn’t be very good at it. How he would get the little one a pair of drumsticks as soon as they’re able to hold some. How him and Este would buy an endless library of story books.

“But—” Este began to clarify, quickly being interrupted by Matty who finished her sentence with her.

“Definitely not right now.” They clarified in unison.

Laughter blanketed their presence, happy that they were on the same page and that their bottom lines were the same. And that they knew to express it at the same time, in the same words. It happened often and honestly began to creep them out.

Este dragged their puppy up her body to embrace her fully and feel her soft fur against her tired cheek. The now even later hour drew Keiko tired and cuddlier; so any position they had her in would result in eventual quiet snores out of her snout. All three of them were where they felt the happiest.

“When the time comes, it’ll be fun. Being a mum to your kid. Really challenging, probably, but fun.” She decided with a grin.

Matty silently agreed, alternating between caressing his girlfriend’s soft skin and scratching Keiko’s fluffy coat. They sat quietly for a couple of minutes.

“Do you want to marry me? In the meantime?” he suddenly posed.

“What?” Shocked, Este sat up straighter. “Matty, is this a proposal?”

“If you want to marry me, then yes.” The casual tone of his voice made her laugh nervously. “Unless you want something more special, with a ring and everything. You can help me pick it out. And I can plan it, or surprise you. Just say the word so I know this is what you want, and I’ll do it. Now or later,”

Matty smiled when he felt her lips on his.

“Of course I want to marry you,” she said, “I’d marry you tomorrow if you wanted to marry me.”

There was a glint of spontaneity and realisation in his eye. Este watched him open his phone and search for the hours of operation for the nearest courthouse.

“Okay, baby, I was just being excited about the idea. Plus I’m going to the doctor’s tomorrow, to figure out this goddamn stomach that won’t rest. ‘M not sure if there’s time for a wedding,” she stopped him with sarcasm, chuckling and pecking him on the jaw.

He crossed his arms dramatically, throwing his phone the the side and sighing like a toddler. His eyes narrowed in playful anger and stared Este down.

“Suit yourself. Didn’t want to marry you anyway,” Matty joked.

She shoved him over as they burst into giggles together, continuing to banter about how big or small they wanted the wedding to be, how ugly Este thought most engagement rings were, and how there was no way Matty could make his way through written vows without crying.

And in bed that night, laying next to the love of her life, Este glanced down at her empty ring finger and childless abdomen. She thought about how she wouldn’t have it any other way—but also would have it a bunch of different ways—trusting the power of the universe to bring her exactly what it wanted to. Because of how certain she was of how great every single outcome would be, with Matty by her side.

[floralcyanide]

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐀 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 • 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫

Part Six (NSFW)

Roman Bridger x AFAB!Reader

The day Roman first laid eyes on you, he knew he had to have you. There was something about you that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, and usually, he was good at reading people off the bat. But you were a different story. Naturally, you only opened up when necessary, not letting people in if you didn’t have a reason to. So you were guarded, and Roman didn’t like that. He wanted to worm his way into your life, no matter what it took.

If that took delving into his twisted past again in order to get to you, so be it.

AFAB - (assigned female at birth) someone who is born female but can identify with she/her or other pronouns. reader pronouns are gender neutral, so people who use any pronouns can read, but female anatomy will be used and described in this fanfiction eventually.

warnings: gore, descriptions of a dead body, murder, mentions of murder, coarse language, smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, penetration (p in v), oral sex (f receiving), choking, kissing, ass slapping, breast/ nipple play, reminder that reader is afab, so female anatomy is described in this part.

word count: 3037

author's note: here's part six! there's some gore and smut in this one. I was about to end the chapter and couldn't help but add some spice. ((: I hope you all enjoy!! please reblog/ like if you do

series masterlist | masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

“Something about you is different.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You seem like you got laid. Maybe.”

You scoff at Tyson, rolling your eyes, “Mind your business.”

“So you did get laid, huh? Finally. I was worried you would get your face stuck in a permanent scowl.”

You ignore Tyson, dialing up Sarah Darling’s phone number for the tenth time today. Yesterday evening, you called and texted about the same amount. She always answers her phone unless she’s on set actively acting. So you’re slightly worried about her, especially after the incident with Cotton. Everyone had sort of acted like it didn’t happen for the sake of the movie continuing. However, it’s obviously still on everyone’s minds. You still stare at the chair that used to be his sometimes. 

It’s been a few days since the endeavor with Roman, and you try your best not to think about it and focus on work. But every time you see him, you remember that night. It still sends chills up your spine. The last you talked to him was Wednesday, and that’s heavy on your mind too. That evening he called and was so demanding like his adrenaline was high. He had guided you through the most mind-blowing phone sex you’ve ever had. Roman had instructed you on how to touch yourself and how loud to be for him, and he laughed a sick laugh as you came, saying how good you were for him. Thinking about it now while on set has you flustered. 

Tyson is conversing with Angelina and Tom as you all sit on the prop stairs of Sidney Prescott’s home, having aimless conversation during your break. 

“Has anyone heard from Sarah?” you suddenly ask aloud, interrupting Tom and Tyson’s debate on which coffee cart sandwich was better.

Tyson shakes his head, and Angelina says a quiet “No.” while Tom shrugs.

“Sarah is probably okay. Maybe just hungover,” he says.

“For two days?” you ask, looking at him incredulously, “The last I saw or heard from her was here on Wednesday. It’s now Friday, and nothing.”

“Sarah doesn’t drink like that, Tom,” Angelina says, staring at him like he’s an idiot, “And she would never miss work unless absolutely necessary.”

“Hey, Y/N!” 

You turn and see Roman heading toward the group, waving you down.

“Yes?” you ask, confused.

“Could you do me a big favor? I need a new Ghostface costume, and the costume director is currently stuck in lunch traffic. Mind going by the costume room and snagging one for me?” Roman smiles.

“Uh, sure?” you say, getting up from the stoop, “See you guys in a sec.”

“That room is hella creepy. I wouldn’t go in there,” Tyson snorts behind you.

“It’s down the stairs and down the long hallway, then to your left. Can’t miss it,” Roman says, walking alongside you momentarily before he lets you continue without him.

The stairwell and long hallway are eerily silent, even with people all over the building. The lights are dimmed like no one has been here for a while. It’s odd. You approach the door you think Roman was referring to, but something is sticking out of the door. The closer you get, the more a pungent smell accumulates in your nose. When you’re a few feet away, that’s when you see a pool of blood on the ground in front of the costume room door. Upon closer inspection, you realize the thing sticking out of the door was, in fact, Sarah Darling. Mangled and stabbed. Glass was sticking out of her body in weird angles, and her eyes were glossed over and milky looking. Dried blood is caked around her open mouth and nose. You cover your mouth to keep from getting physically ill from not just the smell but the sight of Sarah’s dead body. Backing away, you turn and start running back to the set as fast as possible.

“Help!” you scream as soon as you get back to the set, out of breath from sprinting.

“What’s wrong?” Roman runs to you.

“Sarah,” you pant, tears springing to your eyes, “She’s dead,” you gasp.

“What?” Roman freezes, running a hand over his face, “Where?”

“The costume room,” you say, your voice wavering.

Roman pulls you into his chest, comforting you as you cry into his shirt. Everyone is looking at you and has been listening to the conversation. Security starts heading to the costume room, and Sage runs over to you.

“Hey, what’s going on?” she asks, gently touching your shoulder.

“Sarah Darling,” you say sadly, pulling your face away from Roman’s chest, “I found her.”

Sage’s eyes soften, “Is she okay? I know it’s been a few days since you heard from her.”

You shake your head, “She’s dead.”

“Oh my god,” Sage gasps, “This isn’t good.”

Roman lets go of you, “How about you go sit down, and I go see what’s going on, okay?”

You nod and go with Sage to where the others are still sitting.

“I can’t believe they killed Sarah,” Tom says, lighting a cigarette. He wasn’t supposed to smoke inside, but honestly, you didn’t think anyone would care or notice right now.

Jennifer walks up to the group with Dewey Riley, one of the survivors of the actual Woodsboro Murders. 

“Give me that,” Jennifer sneers at Tom, yanking his cigarette from his hand and taking a big drag, “Do you know how long it’s been since I had one of these?”

“You could’ve just asked for your own, you know,” Tom grumbles, getting a new cigarette from the pack.

Dewey grimaces at Jennifer smoking like it’s going out of style.

“Why are you smoking again, Jennifer?” Angelina asks, confused.

Besides Sarah being dead, she couldn’t figure out why Jennifer would act this way. She’s dramatic, but not that dramatic. 

“Have you not noticed?” Jennifer motions around her, “I’m next.”

“How exactly are you next?” Tyson asks, his eyebrow raised.

“So far, the killer has killed in the order of who dies in the movie,” Dewey speaks up, “By this rate, Jennifer may be next. All of you should be careful, even you extras.”

You and Sage look at each other, worried.

“Why is that?” you ask Dewey.

“When the killer gets to a certain point, they will kill everyone who gets in their way,” Dewey says, looking down, “It doesn’t matter who you are.”

You gulp, nodding in understanding, “Good to know, I guess.”

Everyone is silent for a moment until you remember something Sarah had said when Cotton died, “It could be anyone.”

Everyone looks at you in horror before their faces turn into sad realization.

“You’re right,” Dewey says, “So trust no one and stay together. Don’t go anywhere alone.”

You wipe your eyes one last time before getting up, walking to the coffee cart, and grabbing a water bottle. It’s a little ways from the group, but you aren’t worried. You need some time to yourself right now after what you have seen. 

“Excuse me,” someone walks up to you, and you turn around to see none other than Gale Weathers.

“Yes?” 

“Do you work here? I have some questions about Cotton Weary’s death,” Gale asks, digging around in her bag for a notepad.

“I do. I’m an extra. And you should probably know that someone else has died on set, so you may not be allowed here right now,” you wince, looking around to make sure you aren’t about to be swamped by security.

“Someone else has been murdered?” Gale asks, “Who?”

Before you can say anything else, Dewey approaches, “Gale?”

“Dewey? Did you hear about Cotton too?”

“Of course I did. I work on set,” Dewey says, growing frustrated, “Why are you here?”

“Doing my job. And apparently, I came at the right time,” Gale says, readjusting her bag on her shoulder.

“There’s no press allowed on set,” Dewey snaps.

“Do you see a camera, Dewey?” Gale says snarkily.

“I got you that purse, Gale. Remember?”

Gale awkwardly shifts before flicking her hair behind her shoulder, “Fine. Off the record.”

“Hey!” Roman shouts from the set exit, “You can’t be here!”

Gale sighs, “I guess I gotta go. It was nice seeing you, Dewey. And nice meeting you,” Gale trails off when she faces you.

“Y/N.”

“It was nice meeting you, Y/N.”

“Sorry about that,” Dewey scratches the back of his neck.

“You’re fine. It’s always weird running into an ex,” you pay his shoulder before walking away from the cart.

Roman stops you before you reach the prop steps, “Can we talk?”

“About what?” you ask, closing your water bottle.

“Come with me to my office.”

You look at Sage, who gives you a funny look.

“I’ll explain later,” you mouth to her, and she nods.

You and Roman go a different way to his office, avoiding the crime scene that is now swarming with police and detectives. Once you arrive, Roman immediately closes the door and locks it, slamming you against it. He presses his lips to yours, quickly turning the kiss into a makeout session.

“Well, hello to you, too,” you pull away, “What did you need to talk to me about?”

With one final peck to your lips, Roman pulls away and walks to his desk chair.

“I think the police are going to question me soon.”

“What for?” you ask.

“Sarah and I were supposed to meet here in my office to go over the script, but I was stuck in traffic and didn’t make it in time for our meeting. But once the police find this out, they will ask questions.”

“I understand. Did you want to tell me this so I wouldn’t be worried?”

“Yes,” Roman says, spinning around in his chair a little, “I didn’t want you to think I was involved because I wasn’t.”

You nod, walking over to Roman, taking his hands into yours, “I don’t think you’re capable of killing someone. You’re too sweet.”

Roman scoffs, “Sweet, huh? Would sweet want to take you right here on this desk? Fuck you doggy style and shove your underwear into your mouth to make you shut up?”

“I’m guessing you’ve thought about that scenario many times,” you chuckle, “But I’m sure people will be looking for us soon.”

“Not if we’re quick,” Roman winks, bringing one of your hands up to his lips and kissing it.

“Fucking at work is really risky, Ro,” you say hesitantly, but the situation he described sounded hot, in all honesty. 

Roman just stares up at you, his eyes longing and pupils growing in size. He moves his hands from yours, sliding them up your arms until he reaches your elbows. Roman then lets his hands travel to your hips, shoving his hands up your shirt and running his fingers over your skin. Chills erupt across your body as you watch Roman touch you softly. He secures his hands to your waist, pushing you down until you sit on his lap. Roman pulls your shirt up and off of you, delighted to see you’re braless today.

“All ready for me, hmm?”

“Well, it’s kind of warm today, so,” you shrug, teasing him.

“Whatever you say,” Roman smirks, attaching his mouth to one of your nipples.

You roll your hips, letting your core grind against his through your pants. Your arms are draped on Roman’s shoulders as he bites and sucks your breasts. Continuing to roll your hips, Roman pinches both of the sensitive buds on your chest, pulling on them as you grind harder on him.

“Are you gonna fuck me over the desk or not?” you sigh, wanting some sort of distraction right now as images of Sarah flash behind your eyes occasionally.

Roman picks you up and slams you down on the desk, which is mainly cleared off already. He yanks your pants down your legs, discarding them altogether. Roman kneels behind you, flattening his tongue over your clothed pussy. He licks a stripe up your slit, the small wet patch that was there growing more at the contact. Roman pulls your underwear down and off your legs, too, wasting no time delving his tongue into you. You whine and wiggle your hips against his face, trying your best not to ride it. Roman reaches up and slides in two fingers beside his tongue, lapping up your arousal as he finger fucks you. 

“God, Roman. Your fingers feel so good,” you moan, your nipples pressing into the desk at the right angle as Roman plunges his tongue and fingers into you.

“I bet my cock would feel better,” he says, pulling away from you and standing up.

He pulls his pants and underwear down his thighs, pumping his length a few times before lining up with your dripping entrance. You’re on the pill and trust Roman more now, so you don’t worry much about a condom this time around. He slowly pushes into you, and you groan at the feeling of him stretching you out. Your hands grip the edge of the desk, preparing for the moment he starts fucking you. Roman fills you to the hilt, letting himself adjust to your grip before he slides out and then back in. He continues this, going harder and faster with each stroke. Before you know it, you’re being propelled forward against the desk, Roman pounding his cock into you at a delicious pace. He wraps a hand around your throat, giving himself some leverage as he squeezes it. 

“Do you like that, kitten? Do you like me fucking you over this desk?”

“Uh huh- fuck,” you moan a little too loudly when Roman hits a spot inside you just right.

Before you can attempt to apologize, Roman has balled up your underwear and shoves it into your open mouth, “Don’t think I didn’t forget that part of my fantasy.”

You moan freely into the fabric, crying out as Roman repeatedly hits that spot. He leans over, letting his hand find your clit as he rubs it vigorously. Roman’s hovered over your back, your ass pressed against his stomach as he fucks you. Letting go of your throat, he lands a smack onto your asscheek, squeezing it and soothing over the red spot. You whine, turning your head to watch him as he mercilessly thrusts his hips forward. Roman has long since ditched his glasses, and his hair is slightly sweaty and hanging in his face. He looks determined and focused, giving his all as he slams his body forward into yours. 

“So good for me. Your pretty pussy is so tight. I love wearing it out,” Roman leans over you and whispers in your ear, knowing you can’t reply.

You squeeze your eyes shut as your stomach tightens into a knot, your legs beginning to shake. Roman grips your ass as he starts rubbing your clit rapidly, causing you to let out a long groan that doesn’t seem to let up the closer your orgasm gets. You’re panting and grunting into your balled-up underwear as you clench around Roman, causing him to twitch inside you. 

“Are you gonna cum for me? Hmm?” Roman growls, smacking your ass again, “Cum for me, baby.”

Your body relaxes, and you feel yourself gush with a deep, animalistic groan as Roman hits your g spot dead-on and rubs your clit just right.

“Fuck,” you cry, bucking your hips with Roman’s as he lets you ride out your orgasm, your pussy still convulsing and squirting, causing Roman to tip over the edge.

“Christ,” he bites his lip, watching his cock pump you full of his cum as squelching noises fill the room. 

You catch your breath, removing the underwear from your mouth, “Sorry for making a mess.”

“It was well worth it,” Roman sighs, running his hand down your back and over your ass, “Think you could do it again?”

You laugh an exhausted laugh, “I don’t know, Ro.”

“Come on, I know you’ve got more in you,” Roman says, flipping you over on your back.

“Fine, you can try,” you sigh, pushing your hips until they’re at the edge of the desk.

Roman licks his lips before circling your sensitive clit with his tongue, lapping at it. You whine, trying not to move around from overstimulation. Roman presses an arm over your stomach, holding you down as he lightly rubs the bundle of nerves with two fingers. You thrust against his fingers, and Roman speeds up, gradually adding fingers until his whole hand rubs your pussy as fast as he can. You’re moving your hips along Roman’s hand as he rubs you, feeling another orgasm on the horizon.

“I’m gonna fucking cum, Roman,” you warn, your body convulsing from the overstimulation.

You roll your nipples between your fingers as you feel yourself release, and Roman hurries to put his mouth over you. Seeing him swallowing up your squirt makes you gush more, tears burning in your eyes as he runs his tongue over your clit softly, urging you to cum more. You cry out as you jerk around, a third orgasm approaching. You’re fucked out, but it feels so good having Roman eat out your sensitive cunt. He sticks his tongue inside you again, rubbing tight circles on your clit as you cum for a third time. Roman laps up as much as he can, licking you clean before he stands up. His face glistens with your arousal, and you laugh weakly as he wipes his face.

“What?” he asks, leaning over you, his hands running along your body.

“You look good with my cum all over your face,” you say daringly, placing your hands on both of Roman’s cheeks as he dips his head down to yours.

He hums before kissing you open-mouthed, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. It’s kind of hot, and if your body would allow it, you’d totally be turned on again. But you’re about to melt into the desk by this point.

“Let’s get you dressed,” Roman pulls away, gathering your clothes for you, “Do you feel better now?”

“Yeah, but,” you trail off, avoiding Roman’s gaze, “I can still see her every time I close my eyes.”

taglist:

@bridgergf @crinimalmindsfan13 @oddlittleminx @axen-gers @alwayslilithnevreve @belovedtylerr @bonbekahsfav @elliotss @jokersgrf @snazzynacho @sonyaswife @cobra-kaii @im-a-slut-for-this-man2 @nicepeony @wqndasdarkkhold @justacosplayerlol

[unclewaynemunson]

Hey , brightside anon! Absolutely adore the fic!! Thank you so much! And I should have said it the first time around, but if the offer for an ending is still extended, steddie please!

Here you go!

(Read pt1 here)

-----

Jealousy got Eddie sick in his stomach when he arrived at Steve's house. He knew he only had himself to thank for this; wasn't he the one who hadn't shut up to Steve about how much Nancy Wheeler loved him? Wasn't he the one who told him that he shouldn't give up on her? And now here he was, standing on his lawn with a container of pumpkin soup in his hands, and his heart was shattering in his chest, because Steve and Nancy were clearly visible through the bedroom window, naked from the waist up except for Nancy's bra, laughing their asses of together.

Steve showed up to his trailer unannounced the next day. Eddie almost groaned when he opened the door to meet those goddamn soft brown eyes of his; he needed more time to get over what he had seen the night before.

'I guess i should congratulate you, Harrington,' he managed to say.

Steve gave him a confused look. 'With what?'

'Came to your house yesterday. My uncle got like five pumpkins from the neighbors, he figured you'd like some soup so he made me his delivery boy. So, um, i saw you. With Wheeler. Guess it worked out for you, after all.'

Steve's eyes went wide. 'No, not exactly what happened,' he said.

'No need to lie to me, man,' Eddie replied, annoyed. 'I'm happy for you.'

'No, I'm serious,' Steve persisted. 'I mean, we tried to get it on, but it didn't really work. It wasn't what it used to be. So we decided we're better off as friends now.'

'Really?' Eddie wasn't sure if he should even believe this, and he definitely wasn't sure how it was making him feel. He had been hoping that Steve being with Nancy would make it easier for him to forget the guy. He might have been jealous, but at least it would be clear.

'Yeah,' Steve said. 'I think I found someone who may be a little bit better for me. The only problem is that -' He stopped to clear his throat, suddenly avoiding Eddie's gaze, '-that this person was rooting for me and Nance.'

Eddie swallowed. So he had been jealous of the wrong girl; he knew that Robin had been just as invested into getting Steve and Nancy to reconnect. He didn't know why it even surprised him. It made sense, didn't it? The two of them were attached to the hip, of course he shouldn't have believed a word of that "Platonic with a capital P" bullshit. And they'd make a cute couple, he supposed. Steve still deserved to be happy, didn't he?

'What if she was pushing you towards Nancy because she didn't think she'd have a chance with you anyway, and was trying to protect herself?' Eddie said.

Steve stared at him for a couple of seconds. 'Who?' he then asked.

Eddie frowned at him. 'Your girl, of course.'

'What girl?'

The question left Eddie wondering how much brain damage Steve had been collecting over years of fighting bad guys. 'The girl you're into. The one who was rooting for you and Nancy,' he said, slowly.

Steve opened his mouth, then closed it, and finally opened it again to say: 'It's not a girl.'

'Wait, what?'

'Surprise,' Steve said weakly. He took a step closer towards Eddie. 'So... Do you really think that he was only rooting for me and Nance to protect himself, because he didn't think he had a chance?'

Eddie couldn't quite believe what was happening. 'I'm pretty sure of it,' he answered, hesitating. He noticed how Steve's eyes flashed downwards, to his lips. 'He doesn't have the best gaydar, apparently, cause he was convinced you were straight. And he can be a little bit dense sometimes, because he's still not sure if he's reading this right.'

Steve took another step closer; their chests were almost colliding now. 'I think he is.'

[tonberry-yoda]

Hard Work - Asra

notes: this fic is based on this matchup for @lovolee3! i liked it way too much and HAD to write a full version! this is nothing but toothrotting fluff! I really hope you all enjoy!!! <333

word count: 830

Asra woke up after a long day to find you making breakfast. The window was wide open, the sheer white curtains pushed to the side and he could hear the chirping of the morning birds as the sun spilled in the room.

“Good morning, Asra,” you smiled.

“Good morning, love,” Asra yawned, pulling his cardigan over his shoulder. “That looks delightful.”

“Well, I know you had a long day yesterday. You deserved not only to sleep in, but to have a lovely breakfast as well.”

Asra smiled at you and pressed kisses all over your face as you plated his food. When you finished, you threw your arms around him and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath of you in. He smiled and sighed wistfully as you played with his shining, white curls.

He pulled back from you only to press a couple of kisses onto your soft lips and scoop up his plate, leading it to the small dining room table.

You followed shortly behind and the two of you ate breakfast in near silence, hearing the fresh green leaves on the trees rustling from the morning breeze.

The tea kettle you had set was squealing and you ran over quickly to prepare both of your tea.

When you had come back to the dining room, you found Asra reading a book, putting your current work in progress where you were sitting. You slid him his tea and he thanked you, his bright eyes meeting yours with a smile.

The morning was calm, just spent with the two of you reading in peace and the sound of the busy street beginning to flood pulled you two out of your peace, letting the rest of the morning flow.

"Ready to open up shop?" Asra asked you, taking your book from you and putting both yours and his on the shelf.

"Once you get out of those sloppy pajamas," you giggled, pressing a kiss onto his nose. "And then we can get started."

Asra rolled his eyes at you and went upstairs to his room. You decided in that time to clean up a bit, dusting off bottles and organizing the tarot cards you sold.

"How many readings do you think we'll have today?" You asked Faust as she crawled up your leg and up your torso to your shoulder.

"Lots!" You chuckled at Faust and petted her on the head before you heard the small stomps of Asra's feet run down the old wooden stairs.

"Ready now?" He asked, fixing the disheveled curls atop his head.

"Yes, go ahead." You said, walking back behind the counter.

Once the shop, people flooded in asking for tarot readings or something to help their sick mother back at home. You were used to the shop being busy, but never this busy.

"Are you doing alright over there?" Asra asked from the reading room as you ran the counter, struggling, but still smiling.

"Just fine, Asra!" You nodded at a customer who left the shop and took a breath before a couple of girls flooded in.

"Want to swap places? It's nice and cool back here?" He stuck his head out of the purple curtains.

"Oh, I don't know. I'm still a little rusty, don't you think?"

"Not at all!" Asra got out of the room and handed you the deck, letting you feel the energy. "Now get in there! Can't decide if you're rusty if you're not doing anything!" He gave you a pat on the back and took over the counter.

You went to the back where the reading room was and Asra was right, it was cool in there. You took a deep breath and even though you knew you would still be doing a bit of work, you got to take a break for at least a moment.

You sat back there for a couple of hours, telling an old man that he could move on, a young girl that she still had hope, and several people that they were going to be working hard in their future. It seemed like easy work, but you were exhausted.

"Alright," Asra stuck his head in the room and you couldn't help but get a little flustered looking at him all worked out, his hair messy and sweat beading on his forehead. "The shop's all closed up. We're good for the weekend."

You sighed in relief and set down the deck onto the table before putting it back into its secure case. "Thank goodness."

"Let's take a bath, we have a long weekend ahead of us."

"Long but fun," you took Asra's hand and let him lead you upstairs.

"Yes! Fun! I love going on adventures with you, y/n."

"Makes the long weeks worth it."

"Tell me about it." Asra pecked kisses up and down your arms and led you to the bathroom. Before the long weekend ahead, you needed a long night of relaxation.

~~~~~

the arcana masterlist | pinned post @tonberry-yoda

[popcornforone]

Warmth

A Post Outbreak Joel Miller Fan Fic

This might turn into a series by the way with all the different Pedro characters haven’t decided yet… update it has click here

This was not even an idea 1 day ago & then I was just sitting here looking at something & I thought, I wonder what different Pedro characters would do on autumnal nights. I already have something for Dieter in a few weeks time but Joel was the first person I could place in a situation & now here I am. Posting this for you. So you might get even more soon.

Synopsis:- You are on the run with Joel, & you’ve been staying in random barns, but a 2 day rest at a much grander house, brings about some changes to your dynamic .

Word Count:1800

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! mainly fluff. Mentions of sex & pulling out, friends to lovers but established sexual relationships, mentions of sex happening & how you please each other but nothing too much. Swearing, caring, mentions of being sick & past trauma. This is post out break Joel so he is a broken guilty man.

As always thanks for the read peoples. All feedback is always appreciated. I hope you enjoy.

Joel is concerned, you’re both in the run, you aren’t staying in one place for to long at the moment. Neither of you want to be caught by the beasts that are chasing after you. They almost did 4 days ago but Joel working out how to get voltage back into an electric fence 8 miles away slowed them down.

You’re so tired. You knew this would be the case when he knocked that guy out. You didn’t even have the time to explain Tommy. Joel literally grabbed both your emergency bags & you took off. & you’ve been travelling for the last month. Avoiding all the infected, not seeing another soul. Breaking into barns & old houses. Sharing the same bed for safety, the occasional session of passion which you both said would keep you warm as the evenings got darker as autumn set in. The way he broke down after the first time, made you realise he still carried demons from outbreak day & what he lost. Neither of you ever talk about that day, it’s still painful all these years later. Your sex since turned into at least an every other day thing, no longer for warmth or protection but because you both crave each other touch & as it’s likely you will both be the only people the other sees & it had always been unspoken between you, it was always going to end up with this. The only thing neither of you really enjoy is the fact that he pulls out. Impregnating you would not help either of you.

3 days ago you both reached what in a pre outbreak world, would have been a mayoral house. Gated, large drive, hidden but still had luxuries in it & running water. If someone else was using this grand house, they weren’t around. You both,armed with your guns, cleared each room. No person or infected in sight.

“2 night” Joel said as he headed for the shower on the first day. Stubborn & to the point. But it had to be. You knew you had to keep moving for at least another 2 weeks to be completely off the grid & away from the menaces who were after you.

You offered to sleep in a different bed to Joel on the first night, but he then lingered at your door frame for a kiss good night. The kiss good night, then turned into clean cuddles, before he hoovered above you as your body’s moulded together as one. He smelt as fresh as he could, clean & refreshed, in fresh sheets. It would be a waste to pass up on this. The way he took it slowly & how his plump lips cradled yours. It was the first time in 13 years you had forgotten you were living in the apocalypse as he whispered sweet nothing into your ear as you moaned his name. Joel made the end of humanity bearable. He clearly felt something similar, he didn’t leave your side at all yesterday. It was like you were two feral teenagers again, except he was nearly 50 & you were in your mid 30s. The way his hands slipped inside your jeans to tease you, before he made love to you on a dresser in the hall way. The way you made out with him, as you trimmed his hair in the bathroom before he squirted you with water so he could take your top off to suck on your nipples. This was like a honeymoon, being unable to keep your hands off each other.

But it’s now today. You’ve woken up with a migraine. No sex. No light. No big movements. Joel could tell you weren’t well when you stumbled down into the kitchen. Whiter than a ghost. Bags under your eyes, squinting, struggling to focus, or walk in a straight line.

“I’m fine” you protest “we said only 2 nights rest” you rummage through your bag that you always have with you, for your medication. Then you started to feel dizzy. You don’t remember much but Joel does.

“Fuck, are you….” he says as he sees you go off balance & he grabs you before you completely pass out & hit your head on anything in the kitchen. “I got you, I’m here” he carried you to the sofa & laid you down. He takes his coat he was about to put on, under your head & he tries to pull the curtains in the lounge, some won’t budge at all. He rummages through the cupboards in the room, no blankets or anything. So he goes into his bag pulling out the clean flannel that you washed yesterday. He drapes it over you. & then he stands there. He could leave. They are after him after all, not you. He could easily leave you alone, keep moving by himself. But could he live with the guilt if he left you here, what would happen to you. You could handle yourself, but would you just be another death on his conscious. He should leave right now he keeps telling himself as he paces around, as you recover.

You eventually wake up. The coat you’ve been hugging, you instantly recognise the smell of Joel on it. The flannel is even more comfort as you stretch. A fire roars in-front of you keeping you even warmer. You wobble a little bit as you sit up & suddenly large firm hands hold your shoulders.

“Slowly baby” Joel says calmly.

“Joel”

“Who else?”

“I thought you’d be gone, every man for themselves, right?”

“Yes but I couldn’t just leave you here”he says as his head rests in the back of the sofa, looking at you with those big eyes, & his fluffy hair, which you reach to ruffle. He smiles each time you do that. A small little affectionate moment, which you even had before you became lovers. “I’d never forgive myself” you fully face him as you sit on your knees on the sofa. His lips are soft as you kiss them. This isn’t a hungry kiss. It’s a kiss that says so much more than that.

“Thank you Joel. If I’m going to be hunted & caught, I want my last few moments to be holding your hand smiling knowing that for a month my life was not so horrible.”

“Same beautiful, same” the next kiss is much deeper. A wave of emotions pour over you both.”together?” He asks.

“Together” you then pause the kissing for a second. “Is that smell what I think it is?”

“Yes, it’s a bit stale but would you like some?” He raises an eye, he can see you nap has helped you out a little. You cheeks show more life in them. Your souls is coming to life.

“I would say is the pope a catholic, but there is no pope anymore” you giggle.

10 mins later Joel brings down a duvet from upstairs for you to both sit under. You’ve now put his flannel on. It’s green & black & you’re watching the fire wisps crack as they head up the chimney. Joel then proudly brings in 2 mugs of coffee, which you’ve not drunk any of it about 2 years as it’s hard to come by, & he’s also got some of the bread you still had & poured baked beans on on top of it. You smile as he hands you your food. Your heads rest against each other on the side as you eat & you both watch the fire burn & the autumn leaves fall down outside from the curtains that wouldn’t shut. The old oak tree outside lasting longer than humanity did. The leaves all crisp as they fall, oranges, browns, yellows & reds, which will all be crisp to walk on.

“Is this okay?” Joel asks.

“More than okay Joel” you say as you try to slowly eat the beans. But to have the luxury of eating something in doors & having time to do it & neither of you care anymore, & you also being starving, makes it difficult, so you sip the coffee. The rush of the caffeine hits your system & a smile at an old but familiar taste fills your mouth. “Well it’s not quite an almond Latte but oooh that’s proper coffee that”

“Can you believe that 13 years ago all we cared about was getting coffee & wondering what to waste our time on?” You both have a little laugh at that as his hand finds yours to stroke your knuckles.

“For all of 3mins I forgot the world was ending Joel” you say & both your faces drop for a few seconds. “This used to be peoples dreams, to stay in a house like this & do nothing. Watch the fire burn. Love the simple life for a few days before heading back to their corporate lives. & yet we somehow 13 years later have stumbled upon the exact same moment everyone wanted”

“Well that shows that you came from a different world from me, this was never what I wanted” he says.

“No I know Joel” you sip more coffee. “You still want a ranch don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Well there is enough land here, why do we need to keep moving, why can’t we just stay here. No one knows we’re here?”Joel thinks for a second he’s tempted & you see the idea entertain his mind before he shakes his head.

“Sorry baby, we’re still too close for someone to work out where we are, but we can stay tonight & tomorrow but then we have to move, if your up to it”

“& if I’m not” you raise an eyebrow & he smirks back. He knows the game your playing.

“Oh you will be” he smiles as his large hand cups your face. The way his thumb always feels against your skins makes you shiver. “So if this was 2004 & we had escaped here for a break what would we do in a house like this on a fine fall night?” He asks. You just smile & snuggle into him.

“This Joel.” You both sigh & sip your coffee.

“Yea this is nice actually” he says as he watches you watch the fire & his hand strokes through your hair. “I can see why you’d want to do this.” Your head lifts & you hold his chin.

“I’m glad I get to do it with you” you kiss him firmly & the heat from your bodies rise as your passion grows. A small delay to your eventual plans, won’t effect you both to much. sometimes it’s just nice to stop & take note of the beauty of life & the life you have been given, even if it is just trying to survive the end of the world.

[celluloidbroomcloset]

I finally got around to watching WWDITS this past Sunday. I had wanted to see the movie before reading any fic for it, you see. I then spent the entire day yesterday home sick from work reading all the Vianton fic I could get my hands on, starting with yours. I now blame you and your great fic for that spiral.😆It was a great fic to start with! Cute and emotional and hot and fun! Got the voices and tone just right. I would definitely like a few more details on just what they were up to that lead to falling through three floors square onto the dishwasher and just how long it took Anton to fix all of that. 🤣

Ah, thank you! I really liked writing that - they're a fun couple and remarkably well-defined in the film, despite the fact that they have, like, a minute of screentime together.

[thelampisaflashlight]

I Am All Eyes

[Hoping to escape his past and begin anew, a young man takes a chance on an AD in the local newspaper, only to find he has, perhaps, bitten off far more than he can chew. A reintroduction to my OC, Quincy, and how he came to be the abbey's librarian. This fic will consolidate the events of the first two original ficlets I did with Quincy and diverge from the original plot from here. Not suitable for younger audiences.] Below the cut.

For what it's worth, if Quincy had to choose how he was going to die, death by satanic cult is a vastly cooler way to go out than he would have personally imagined for himself.

Kneeling at the base of some... big titty goat person -pretending not to see how worn the bronze in that particular area is- surrounded by a circle of cloaked figures that look like they walked off of the set of some old school horror flick, Quincy's mind, of course, drifts to the worst case scenario.

A million thoughts send his head spinning; When he'll die, and by what means, and one thought that he refuses to acknowledge, because-

"It's like that one scene from that music video I saw yesterday-"

Yeah, nope.

Not the time to be thinking about hockey bukkake.

He pinches his eyes shut and tries to focus on the present.

He hears the click of boots on the black marble beneath him.

He's fucked.

He's so fucked.

Everything he's ever done leading up to this, to the moment he said screw it and shook off the mounting anxiety in his chest and pushed open those ornate wooden doors to take shelter from the coming rain he'd sealed his fate.

He shouldn't have come here to begin with.

He shouldn't have called to arrange an interview with some... some shady lady who called herself something as weird as Sister Imperator.

Why'd he think it was a good idea to respond to an AD in the newspaper anyway??

Who even reads the paper anymore?!

Quincy.

Quincy reads the paper -for the crossword puzzles and the horoscopes, and to groan at this one columnist who always has the shittiest takes in the opinions section- because he's a giant nerd.

...and because he has a friendly competition going with the old man who runs the newspaper stand across from his apartment.

Point is-

He just wanted a job in his field, okay?

He spent years studying to become a librarian, but he’s been stuck working at a dive bar since before he could even drink himself, and he’s kind of tired of coming home smelling like spilled beer and vape smoke -the ban on “electric cigarettes” indoors hadn’t quite hit his area yet, and Quincy was sick of having to smell the pungent aroma of cereal scented clouds of vapor.

All that money wasted on getting a higher education, and he’s somehow still stupid enough to stumble upon a cult in broad daylight and embarrass himself in the process no less!

Lord, he wants to cry.

He must look so pathetic down on his knees, because one of the hooded figures offers-

A tissue?

Quincy sniffles.

“First day jitters, huh?” Another says, taking a packet of little bear shaped cookies from their pocket and pressing it into his palm, “Don’t worry, you’ve got this!”

What?

“It’s a lot to take in, huh?”

“I thought-” Quincy looks up at them confused, “-what is this place? I-I was called to… for a…”

He digs into his jacket pocket and pulls out the newspaper clipping, “A-A woman called, S-Sister Impera… Impera…”

“Oh, hey! Someone actually took the job offer! Fucking finally…” someone sighs, placing a hand on their chest, “I’m getting tired of trying to organize that place myself…”

“I… Huh.”

Huh.

With one stiff pull, Quincy is back on his feet, a bit wobbly, but, at least he’s standing.

He feels like a newborn deer surrounded by… surprisingly nice wolves.

“What… what is this place exactly? The AD said it was… um… a-an abbey? A church thing, so… and, and what is that?”

He eyes the statue again, face warming as he takes in the carefully crafted areolas....

What?

They’re massive and very aesthetically pleasing to look at!

“Oh, that’s Baphomet!”

“Bapha-who-ha?”

“Baphomet, he represents the balance between opposites, although, I think the Papa Emeritus that commissioned it just really liked the idea of having a statue with big ol’ boobs in the foyer to be honest…”

Quincy bites his lip.

Ah.

“It used to have a huge schlong, too, but I think they had to remove it back in the 60’s? 70’s? So it would be less, uhh, sinister?”

Quincy opens his mouth, and physically has to stop himself from asking what they mean by “sinister”, instead asking, “W-Where is Sister Imperator… So I can speak with her?”

“Her office is on the third floor, last door at the end of the hall.”

“Third floor, gotcha. And the elevator is…?”

“Out of order until they get the stains off the wood paneling.” the figure who explained the statue says, “However, there are stairs at the end of the hall that will take you up to the second floor, then you just have to head down to the end of THAT hall and take the left up another staircase and, boom, you’re there.”

“That’s a lot of stairs.”

Despite this, at no point does Quincy have the thought that he could just leave now.

Just, not show up to the interview.

For all his earlier hesitance and regret... he just keeps walking.

As he passes door after door, pausing briefly to admire the architecture -the woodwork is gorgeous to say the least- and breathe in the age of the building itself…

No, that thought doesn’t occur to him until he’s actually sitting in the interview, with an older woman in a modest black dress and a tight bun that makes Quincy’s head hurt imagining the pull of it as if it were tearing at his own scalp.

Sister Imperator.

She’s… a lot more intimidating in person than she sounded like she would be on the phone.

She'd sounded rather jovial and kind during their initial conversation, but now, Quincy isn't so sure.

He blames it on nerves.

She adjusts her reading glasses and sets his paperwork down.

“Well, you certainly have the necessary qualifications for the job, although, I do have to wonder… you’re leaving a job you’ve had for nearly a decade now for one that pays…” she folds her hands on top of the desk between them, “I have to ask, what made you answer our advertisement, Mr. Byrne?”

“I attended university with this specific line of work in mind.” Quincy replies, sitting up straight, “A-Although I’ve been working as a bartender for some time now, and I would be making more if I continued to do so… I decided some time ago that I needed a career change.”

“Any particular reason for that that you would be willing to share?”

Quincy shakes his head, “It’s… a personal matter, and won’t have any bearing on my performance.”

“I see.” she looks back down at his paperwork, “Right then, just a couple more questions.”

Quincy nods.

“Full disclosure before we begin, as you’ve probably already guessed based on aesthetics alone… we are a religious organization, no less legitimate than, say, the catholic church, but not quite so… Mn, prominent.” she says, clearly choosing her words carefully, “Will this be an issue for you, Mr. Byrne? We can assure you, that you needn’t subscribe to our views in order to work in our library, it is merely a matter of comfort for yourself, and to avoid the possibility of you treating our clergy discriminatorily. You may also choose not to answer.”

“I’m not particularly religious.” he replies, “I was raised Christian, but I suppose these days I would be considered an apostate? Yes.”

“And as far as your views on our religion thus far?”

“I will admit I was… taken aback… by what I saw in the foyer, but I have no ill feelings towards the people here.” he thinks back to the kindness he was shown earlier despite his obvious apprehension and doubt, “They, your clergy, have been… nice.”

“That is good to hear.” she says, smiling, though Quincy could have sworn he caught a glimpse of something… dark in her gaze before he spoke.

“Onto the next question: We have several semi-permanent residents here, so it is likely that you will be encountering them quite often-”

The rest of the interview goes…

It goes fine.

Quincy doesn’t have an expectations, but when Imperator quietly leans back in her chair, he thinks he definitely didn’t-

“Can you start tomorrow?”

“Y-Yes, but, don’t you have other applicants to-”

She shakes her head, “You’re the only one who replied, and I think it would be ridiculous to let you go.”

He swallows, “So then… I got the job?”

“Yes.”

Quincy visibly relaxes.

“How about a tour of the building?”

.

.

“And this is the dining hall.” Brother Elijah -the figure who had given him the bear cookies earlier, now dressed in a much less ominous, but still quite formal looking cassock- says, gesturing through the open doors to a surprisingly quaint looking dining room, “If you bring food with you, you can eat it here on your break, or you can take it outside and eat in the courtyard, that’s what a lot of us do when it’s nice outsi- Are you quite alright, Mr. Byrne?”

“This place is… way bigger than I expected.” Quincy breathes, “How are you not tired?”

Brother Elijah sets his hands on his hips, looking confident, “I can run the length of this building three times over in twenty minutes or so.”

“I timed it once out of curiosity!”

“I’m… whoo…” Quincy sits down on a nearby bench, Brother Elijah stands beside him, hands behind his back, “I don’t know when I got so out of shape.”

“Ehn, it happens. Once you hit thirty-five or so-”

Quincy coughs, “I’m twenty-seven.”

Brother Elijah’s eyebrows hit the ceiling, “Really?”

“I don’t know whether or not I should be offended, how old are you that you think thirty-five is old anyway?”

“Forty-eight. I’ll be forty-nine in August.”

Quincy makes a face.

“No…”

“Yes, actually!”

“You look younger than me!”

“I have a great skin care routine.” He shrugs, “I think it’s probably because I still have my hair intact, no gray hairs either… Ah, apologies…”

Quincy runs a hand through his hair, through the white patch in the front, “Ehn, I like my hair.”

An awkward silence fills the space between them.

“Um… Do you… Do you like working here, Brother Elijah?” Quincy asks when he’s finally feeling less winded.

The older man nods, “I’ve been here for quite some time now, and I don’t feel I’ll be leaving anytime soon. I have friends here, and, well, it’s certainly an interesting place to live.”

“You live here, too?”

“Many of us do.” he says, looking a little somber, “Some people come to us because they have nowhere else to go, and others, like myself, simply wanted a fresh start… If I might pry a little, could I ask you something?”

“Mn.” Quincy nods, “Go ahead.”

“Are you at all superstitious, Mr. Byrne?”

“Like, do I believe in ghosts and the supernatural? Or… like fortunes and such?” Quincy asks, crossing his legs, “I’ll admit I enjoy reading my horoscope in the paper now and then, but, well, I’ve never really put much stock in the paranormal.”

“I see.” the man smiles, unlike the sister’s smile, it seems wholly genuine and kind, “And what is your star sign?”

“Capricorn.”

“Ah, yes, the sea goat. An interesting one that, being an earth based sign, yet being depicted by a creature you’d sooner see in the water than on land.” He chuckles, “And what did the paper tell you today?”

“I think it was, ‘Something you lost will be returned to you.’, though it hasn’t happened yet, so…” Quincy shrugs, “Though, I don’t recall anything I could have lost either.”

“Is there anything you were hoping to have given back to you?”

“Nothing immediately comes to mind, no.” He says, standing up slowly, “What about you?”

“Hm?”

“Your star sign?”

“I am a leo, if I’m remembering correctly.”

Quincy hums, “I think your fortune for today was 'A new business venture will yield unexpected results’ or something like that… It’s all a bit silly, huh?”

“Indeed it is.” he laughs, then pauses, holding up a hand, “Listen.”

The sounds of a bell tolling echoes through the halls.

It chimes once.

Twice.

And then a third and finally time.

“3 o'clock on the dot.”

“It’s that late already?” Quincy blinks, “It feels like I only just got here…”

“Do you have somewhere else to be at the moment?”

“No, not really, I, uh, I worked closing at my old job last night.” he explains, “It’s been a while since I’ve really been up and at 'em at this time.”

“Ah, I see. We can finish up the tour when you return tomorrow.”

“Thank you, I look forward to it.”

Despite parting ways with Brother Elijah, Quincy finds himself lingering outside of the abbey, waiting for his ride to show up.

He hadn’t wanted to drive all the way out here in his own car… at least not yet, for a variety of reason, but mostly because he hadn’t wanted her to see him leave, to question where he was going or, worse yet, follow him there.

It would be easier to cuts ties with her, with the rest of them, too, if he could just… disappear.

Truth be told, he’d had to stop himself from asking Brother Elijah how one might go about moving into a place like the abbey.

He’s certain if he asked, he might be understanding of his circumstances, but Quincy…

He’d rather not get into all of that on the first day.

“Just… see if you like it, and go from there.” he tells himself, closing his eyes and letting out a deep exhale, “Just gotta wait it out.”

Checking his phone for the first time in hours, Quincy feels the tension build behind his brow as he sees how many missed calls he has, how many texts…

At some point, he’ll have to decide whether to just block them all or change his number.

Turning off his phone, Quincy sits down on the steps and waits.

It’s oddly peaceful out here, and the air feels crisp and clean.

It’s… it’s nice.

Watching the grass roll on a nearby hill, he can’t help but think…

“Shawn would have liked it here.”

He’s glad when the rain picks back up before the car arrives.

.

.

The abbey’s library is absolutely stunning.

He’d said as much when Brother Elijah brought him there after his interview, and, even now, nearly a month into his work, Quincy finds it just as magnificent and fantastical as the first time.

However…

“20 down, 6 letters, an old English word for church…”

Although Quincy loves the library, it’s not the most lively place.

Clergy come and go, and some linger to study books about this or that, Quincy isn’t sure what the primary focus of their research is, but much of it involves skimming through heavy resource books that are all written in some archaic language he cannot begin to understand.

Thankfully, the spines are labeled in English, or, at the very least, Latin.

A bell tolls, signifying midday, and the assembled clergy begin closing their books, setting them off to the side, shuffling their notes and gathering their belongings to leave.

Quincy nods to them as they depart, and receives small waves and warm smiles in response.

The siblings are always very respectful and polite, to the extent that it makes him a little nervous.

Despite having left the faith years ago, Quincy had grown up Christian, and is still struggling to unlearn the more “us or them” teachings his church had beaten into his head as a child and young teenager.

It is not an easy thing to do, and his mind often swirls with negative thoughts and feelings that he tries not to let color his opinions of the people around him, but he has to try.

Quincy stretches, then stands slowly, rolling up his sleeves.

“Right, let’s get to it…”

Tidying up the library requires Quincy’s full attention, having not fully acquainted himself with the layout, he can easily sort the books themselves by their DDCs but…

“Why are none of these shelves labeled??”

“Mn, I believe it’s because the late Papa Emeritus III found the placards too plain, and thought that they ‘detracted from the aesthetics’…” Brother Elijah had told him during lunch one afternoon, “Which is… funny, considering I do not think he spent much time actually in the library… at least not to utilize the resources there.”

“What was he doing then??” Quincy had questioned, “Just sitting about?”

“Ah, no…” Brother Elijah trailed off, “Well, kind of. He was fond of… roleplay so to speak.”

Quincy is still not entirely sure what he meant by that.

What kind of so-called “roleplay” could you even do in a library??

He’d tried to ask Brother Elijah exactly that, but the older man waved him off, saying it was better if he didn’t know.

The same day, whilst cleaning, Quincy found a desk towards the back of the library, out of view, with… decidedly nail shaped indentations on the surface, as if someone had been gripping it tightly.

He’s still not sure what to do with this information, nor certain how or why he thinks it’s connected to the dead guy’s… roleplay.

Returning to the present, Quincy finds himself on the second floor, a single book remaining in his hands; It’s old and worn, and the sticker label marking where it belongs has long since faded beyond his ability to read.

He flips it open, examining cover to cover trying to find some marker or indication of where it belongs, but everything written inside -and indeed it is written, handwritten in a brownish ink- is in an illegible cursive scrawl.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think he accidentally snatched up one of the siblings’ notebooks, but the book was simply too old for that to be the case.

The paper, the bindings…

It’s a very old tome indeed.

Another bell tolls.

“I’ll figure this out later.” he tells himself, descending the staircase and depositing the book at the front desk beside his crossword puzzle, grabbing his bag and departing from the library… only to find the hallways packed with clergy members and much chatter.

Quincy hops to see over the crowd, but he can barely see passed the wall of people.

“What’s going on?” he asks, tapping the shoulder of a nearby sibling.

“The ghouls have returned!” they announce excitedly, “They’re finally back!”

“The what now?”

“The ghouls!”

Quincy blinks, “That… clears up absolutely nothing.”

“The ghouls are high ranking members of the church.” a now familiar voice explains, “They’re essentially celebrities here.”

Quincy tilts his head up in the crowd, making eye contact with Brother Elijah.

“So they’re kind of like… the 'popular kids’ here then?”

Brother Elijah chuckles, “Mn, not quite. They do have a rather large following, but that’s only natural, they are musicians after all, and everyone gets at least a little excited to see their favorite ones.”

Quincy hops to see over the crowd again, catching a glimpse of… well, more tops of heads, and one face towering above the assembled clergy.

He makes the briefest of eye contact with the man; He’s tall and lean, with a narrow face and long brown hair that looks oh so soft, and when he locks eyes with Quincy, it may be his imagination, but there’s the slightest hint of…

…Anger?

Quincy shivers, grateful, suddenly, for the wall of people between them.

He’s certain the other had scowled upon seeing him.

It could just be nerves, or his mind playing tricks on him and seeing hostility where there is none, but he doesn’t try to jump up to confirm either theory.

“Are you alright?” Brother Elijah asks, peering down at him worriedly.

“Ah, just… wondering when the crowd will clear up.” he says, waving off the other’s concerns, “I wanted to go eat my lunch.”

“If you say so.” he hums, “Here, I’ll clear a path. Stick close.”

With that, Brother Elijah begins pushing his way through the crowd, and Quincy grabs the band around his cassock to keep them tethered together so he doesn’t get lost.

It doesn’t take long before they’ve popped free into the main corridor, taking the opposite path from the… the ghouls?

“W-Why are they called ghouls?” Quincy asks, letting go of Brother Elijah’s belt, “Is that, like, a status thing?”

“In a sense, yes.” he says, smoothing his uniform, “It’s hard to explain, and I’m not entirely sure how much I can tell you about that, honestly.”

“It’s another one of those, 'You have to be in the know.’ kind of deals, yeah?”

He nods.

“It’s better if, for now, you just make yourself aware of their presence and avoid them when you can.” he goes on to say, “They’re not bad people, nor particularly dangerous, but they can be a bit… much.”

“You forget I used to work in a bar, Brother.” Quincy points out, “I’ve likely dealt with similar or even worse.”

“Still… I think it would be better if you didn’t involve yourself with them more than you have to.” the other states, his brow furrowed.

He seems genuinely worried about the idea of him interacting with the ghouls, but that just makes Quincy… curious.

However.

“Mn, I probably won’t see them, so it’s fine.” he says, “One of them, the really tall one, he gave me an odd look and, frankly, I don’t want to find out what it means..."

“Ahh, that would be Mountain… He’s a fairly easygoing person, but he can be rather… abrasive at first.”

“His name is… Mountain?”

“Yes. Actually, all of them have sort of-" Brother Elijah searches for the right word to use, "-nicknames?”

“I se-” Quincy’s stomach growls loudly, cutting himself off.

Brother Elijah smiles.

“Come now, let’s get some food in you.”

.

.

Returning to the library after lunch -mostly simple, easy to eat snacks like fruit or cheese for Quincy, and a sandwich from the kitchen for Brother Elijah- Quincy settles back behind the front desk, pulling out the book from earlier and tries to glean any new information from it that he can.

The letters seem to swirl on the pages nonsensically at first, but the longer he focuses on them, the more recognizable the shapes become.

He can tell which are meant to be lowercase 'q’s, 'p’s, 'g’s, and 'y’s now at the very least.

But none of the words are familiar to him.

He sets the book down again, taking out his crossword again.

“13 across, 7 letters, a rumbling during a storm…”

“Thunder.” a low voice booms, “…do you always do puzzles while working?”

Quincy startles, almost falling out of his chair, but a long arm reaches across the desk, grabbing the back of it.

"Ah."

Quincy's eyes widen.

"You should be more careful."

It's... it's the man from before.

It's Mountain.

"I-I'm sorry-"

“You need not apologize to me.” the tall man sighs, “But, really, you should pay more attention to your surroundings, how could you not hear me come in?”

Quincy squirms in his seat, he feels like a little kid caught doing something wrong.

“I… I was distracted.”

“Yes, by your puzzle.” he states coolly, gesturing at the paper, now spread out across the floor behind the desk, dropped in his fright.

“I’m sorry.” he apologizes again, “I-I… were you trying to get my attention? I’m sorry…”

Mountain frowns, righting the chair and pulling Quincy back towards the desk in one fluid motion.

Why is he so strong??

Why is he so… fucking tall??

Quincy gulps.

“I just wanted to say hello, but you seemed to be off in your own little world, so I thought I might snap you back to reality before someone more important found you goofing off on the job.” he chastises, clicking his teeth for emphasis, “You haven’t been here nearly long enough to get away with this sort of thing, so you have to be careful, yes?”

Quincy nods quickly, “Yes, Sir.”

Mountain’s face contorts more, if possible, becoming even more annoyed.

“Don’t call me 'sir’.”

“What… what should I call you then?” he asks, side-eyeing the massive hand still latched to the back of the chair.

“Mountain.”

“Mountain… I’m…”

“Quincy Byrne.” Mountain drawls, tilting his nametag upwards with a single, large finger from his free hand, “I want us to be friends, so, be careful not to get yourself into trouble, alright?”

Friends?

He-

With that, Mountain releases him, standing to his full height, and ascends the stairs to the second floor, leaving Quincy to babble uselessly.

“What.”

What was that?!

Despite Mountain having righted his chair before leaving him, Quincy still bails out onto the floor with a loud crash.

“Ow…”

“…Are you alright?” Mountain calls from the upstairs railing.

“Y-Yeah, I’m great.”

Quincy sits on the floor for a moment, trying to regain his composure.

What even…

Grabbing his paper from the floor, Quincy goes to stand, bumping his head on the underside of the desk.

Thud.

A loud sigh echoes through the silence of the library.

Oi.

“Be quiet down there, some of us are actually trying to get work done.”

Quincy bristles, “I-”

“Shhhh-”

Did he just shush him???

Ugh…

Quincy picks up his chair and sits back down, about to toss his paper in the bin, when…

“Oh, 20 down…”

“Cirice.” Mountain says from somewhere above, “And do learn to read in your head.”

Quincy bites his tongue to keep from screaming.

[echoing--stars]

If you're still doing some requests, maybe Rowan fussing over a sick Link? I know you did a modern AU one, but I wanna see it set in HW where Link tries to insist that Rowan doesn't have to keep running up from the bakery to check on him all the time.

Aww I love a good sick fic! I was going to write more, but I would have kept going on and on. I had to stop somewhere XD

(If you read this and would like to request a short snippet, see this post!)

Rowan ran up the stairs. The small rush of customers had just left and he’d made a piece of toast and a cup of tea for Link. He’d left a note on the counter — “Back in a minute!” — in case anyone came in while he went upstairs to check on Link. His boyfriend had been sick since yesterday, and had only gotten worse today. He’d barely stirred when Rowan had gotten up to start getting ready for the day. He’d only mumbled when Rowan had leaned down to press a kiss against his too warm forehead. He’d checked on Link again just before opening the bakery, but it had been a few hours since then. Unless Link had managed to drag himself out of bed, he hadn’t eaten anything since last night, and that was barely enough to be a meal. Link hadn’t had the stomach for much food, but Rowan knew better than to let him eat nothing for much longer. When he pushed open the door to their bedroom, Link had barely moved from the last time Rowan had checked on him. The blankets were piled around his curled up form, and there was a deep frown on his face even in his sleep. Rowan was hesitant to wake him, but he thought it was more important to try and get him to eat and drink something, even if it was only a few bites. Rowan set the plate with toast and the cup of tea on the bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed. He pulled one leg up onto the bed so he could turn to face Link. He ran a hand through Link’s hair, mindful not to get his fingers caught in the tangles. Link still felt too warm, but he stirred at Rowan’s touch. “--wan?” Link speech was slurred, and he barely blinked his eyes open. “I’m here.” Link let out a slow breath and struggled to push himself up. He managed to sit up without getting too tangled in the blankets and looked a bit more awake once he was. Even if his hair was sticking up in all directions. “What are you doing up here?” “Came to check on you and bring you some tea and toast.” “But the bakery?” “It’ll be fine for a few minutes.” Link frowned, but didn’t reply. Rowan took the chance to grab the plate of toast. “You should eat something.” Link looked like he wanted to refuse, but then he glanced up at Rowan and sighed. He broke off a piece of the toast and popped it in his mouth, chewing slowly.  As far as he’d told Rowan, Link wasn’t feeling nauseous, he just had no appetite. It was just convincing him to eat anything that was the hard part. Rowan took the cup of tea and passed it over next. It shook slightly in Link’s hands, but he seemed to have a good hold on it.  “You should try to finish that, okay? I need to get back to the bakery. I’ll come check on you again soon.” “I’ll be fine.” “I know you will. But I’ll feel better if I check on you.” It was an underhanded tactic, but Rowan didn’t feel guilty about it. He stood and pressed a kiss into Link’s hair before heading back downstairs.

-

The next time Rowan came upstairs, the toast had been half eaten and the tea finished. It was better than nothing, Rowan supposed. Link didn’t wake up when he grabbed the dishes and took them to the sink in the kitchen. Rowan started making a broth for soup in the bakery kitchen. The day was winding down and he’d already decided to close the bakery tomorrow. He had a few special orders to work on which he would still complete, but he’d rather focus most of his attention on helping Link. Though he didn’t have strong symptoms, the fatigue, persistent fever, and lack of appetite were enough to make Rowan worry. An hour before close, Rowan went upstairs again. This time, Link woke when Rowan checked on him. Link frowned when Rowan came closer. “Why are you here again?” His eyes were slightly glassy, and there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead. Apparently he’d gotten a bit worse since the last time Rowan had been up here. “You’re sick, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Link huffed and turned over. “You don’t have to worry about me.” “I always worry about you, Link.” “You shouldn’t have to.” Rowan sat on the edge of the bed and put a hand over where he thought Link’s back was beneath the blanket. “Of course I don’t have to. But I want to.” Link only groaned and pulled the blankets back over his head. Rowan laughed and stood back up. At least Link was well enough to be annoyed.

[issybettyx]

I was listening to ‘the Red means I love you’ again yesterday, and my brain started creating a bedrock bros au, so i’m going to explain it because i can

It is a bit long, so 🫶 (it’s basically a short fic)

This was so fun to write, enjoy :D

Link:

— // murder, death, blood

Technoblade was known as the Blood God. But Techno wasn’t a god, he was human; the chorusing voices in his head told him he held a strong power, told him he could kill and make people bleed. They told him he was wasting potential, so he stopped wasting it.

His name was given by the public, scared and shaking as they reported on the murder of a 17 year old student; she’d been attending a school dance and was murdered in cold blood, no traces left behind but a smear of blood purposely placed across her cheek.

What the public didn’t see was Technoblade, easily gaining entry under a name from an attendee who’d been sick and couldn’t show up, a red sparkling masquerade mask covering his face but showing his crimson eyes, scanning the room before meeting the gaze of a girl. The dress she wore was long, the red colour matching the mask Techno wore, her blonde hair tied back into a bun as she wore a content smile, greeting everyone as she walked by.

They also didn’t see as Techno sent a knife through her stomach, and left out the backdoor.

“Great work tonight Ares, didn’t expect much from a newby.” Schlatt drawled that night, throwing $1000 across the table that Techno immediately took, placing it in his satchel as he threw his masquerade mask back to the man. Schlatt was a power hungry man, but he was also absolutely loaded, so he paid people to do his bidding, to kill people that he’d been requested to. “Do I have the pleasure of learning your name?”

“Confidentiality is important to me, Schlatt,” Techno had returned, hands held in front of him as the voices yelled to shoot him with the gun sat in it’s holster on his belt. Ignoring them, he continued, “My name is important to me, and not something I give away without knowing the person well enough.”

“I thought we were becoming friends.” Schlatt replied with a frown, but Techno grimaced; in actuality, he hated the man, but money was money, and if anyone had money it was Schlatt.

“I have no friends, they’re weaknesses.” He returned, giving Schlatt a short nod before going to make his way out of the room, “Have a nice evening.”

“Pleasure doing business with you, Ares.”

When he’d gotten home that night, Schlatt had already sent him the profile of the next person he was being paid to kill.

Death wasn’t something he enjoyed, by all means Technoblade wasn’t a sadist, and when he’d gotten the message of his next victim something sour rose in his throat, but he sucked it up.

And soon, the death tally ticked up.

Soon, every time he got a message from Schlatt, the taste in his mouth wasn’t sour, nor was it sweet. It just… got dull. The man gained a sort of apathy towards it, and killing got easier by the day.

“The Blood God has struck again,” the news blared into Techno’s house as he threw another popcorn into his mouth, eyes starting to drift shut in boredom, “His 17th known victim was found dead at 6:15pm this evening, blood smeared across his cheek.” The reporter explained, glancing down at the paper on the desk as they held down the quiver in their voice. “No suspects have been recorded, but police investigations have been confirmed to be continuing. Back to you Rosa.”

Techno flicked off the TV, attempting to slip off to sleep, but a buzz from his phone made him lift it to his face, reading the message from Schlatt with a quiet sigh that was lost to his quiet home.

Schlatt: *Link to profile* this one came in from an anonymous donor, I should hope you can pull through Ares, they’re paying 100 grand for his head

Mindlessly, he clicked on the profile, eating another handful of popcorn as he read it over.

Name: Thomas Watson (Tommy)

Age: 17

Birthday: April 9th 2004

Appearance: Blue eyes, Blonde hair, 6’1, Caucasian

Pronouns: He/Him

Family: Older brother Wilbur Watson, Father Phil Watson

Close friends: Tubbo (Last name unknown), Ranboo (Last name unknown) (has memory problems)

Education: Snowchester Academy

Home: 17 Porting Avenue

Commonly appears: Library

Trust issues: Decides who he trusts based on “vibes”

Best course of action: N/A

This boy sounded strangely familiar. Techno had never heard his name before, never heard of his family or his home. But the things listed reminded him of someone.

A voice in his head said it reminded him of himself. The man pushed it away immediately, and drifted off to sleep.

—

Techno was never one to murder without a mask. He wasn’t insane.

But Tommy was a special case.

The thing with Tommy was, he wasn’t stupid. He got straight A’s in school, and when he took an online test of social awareness relating to strangers’ behaviours, he got 100% of it correct.

The only way Techno could even get remotely close to killing this kid was to gain his trust, lure him away, and stab him dead in an alleyway.

Techno could always shoot him, his gun had good range, but something about that didn’t sit right with him. Something told him it wasn’t the best idea, that he’d get caught too easily, and then Schlatt would be upset he lost them a life changing amount of money.

The man decided to meet him in library, his newly dyed pink hair out of his face in a bun, reading glasses perched on his nose as he subtly scanned the room, checking for cameras, counting witnesses, before finally finding Tommy. He was sat with a book in hand, a small smile on his face as his eyes scanned the page. After only a second of looking at him, the boy glanced up at him, a questioning look on his face.

“Can I help you?” He asked, blue eyes glinting perfectly in the artificial light. Something foreign grew in Techno’s chest, and he pushed it down immediately, giving the boy a small smile before slowly making his way over to him.

“I need a book recommendation, I heard you’re the boy to come to?” Techno returned, the words flowing with practiced ease as he made his way just a few feet away from the boy. Strangely, a look of uncertainty crossed his face.

“Who sent you?” He asked slowly, shutting his book with a sort of subtlety only Techno could spot, but the boy kept a small smile on his face nonetheless.

“Ranboo,” Techno replied, keeping his smile even as Tommy continued to stare, almost as if he was searching into his very soul for the truth, “I’m a new student, and i’ve been getting into reading.”

After a moment, admittedly an extremely long one, of silence, Tommy smiled, slipping his book into his bag as Techno masked his relief with a feigned smile of excitement.

That same feeling rose in his chest, harder to push down than before as he followed Tommy through the library, watching him point at every section and explain his love for them. The voices cooed and awed, which was awfully unlike them. They used to daydream of killing them, they used to prod Techno with constant reminders of what he had to do. And it helped. With his job anyways.

But now?

Now they didn’t support it.

If Techno even thought about how to kill Tommy for a second, they would scream at him, yell and cry and kick until Techno got an earsplitting headache.

This went on for two weeks.

And Schlatt was pissed.

“You still haven’t killed him.”

“I know.”

“You’re supposed to be the best at this.”

“I know.”

“You’re the Blood God, Ares.” He stressed, running an annoyed hand through his hair with a groan. Techno didn’t so much as blink. “You kill, you feel nothing, you move onto the next one. The public fear you, Ares.”

“I’m trying my best, Schlatt-“

“Well clearly your best isn’t good enough.” He spat back without hesitation, and that made something inside him stir, it made the voices rage. Not only were they mad at Schlatt for insulting Technoblade in such a way, but also at the very idea of hurting Tommy.

Tommy, who was nothing more than a school student, had made the voices grow attached.

Techno refused to get attached to someone who was meant to die by his hands.

He refused.

Whole-heartedly.

Tommy wasn’t special to him at all.

Nope.

“He’s a special case, do you not trust me to do what’s best for your company?” Techno tried, and when Schlatt went to reply, he interrupted once more, “You’ve given me a lot, and I wouldn’t dare drag anything on longer than need be.”

That was a lie. That voices reminded him the moment he said it of every moment he could’ve killed the kid before and he found an excuse not to go through with it.

That part mostly went unsaid.

“If Tommy isn’t dead by his 18th, we’re going to have a problem, Ares.”

Techno smiled. It was short, and it was brief, but it was also temporary relief.

Without another word, Techno left, sighing as he let the tension fall from his shoulders.

—

“Wilbur plays guitar,” Tommy confessed as he explained his family to Techno. It had been a month since they’d met, and Techno had found he struggled to go a day without talking to the kid, the feeling in his chest now one he was unable to repress. “He said he’ll sing me a song for my birthday, wrote it himself.” He finished as he chewed on his sandwich, Techno nodding with a smile.

The smile was fake, and Tommy knew that, immediately catching on.

“What’s up? You’ve been upset for the past couple weeks.”

In reality, since Techno’s meeting with Schlatt where he promised he would kill Tommy, he found himself considering every way to prevent the kid’s death rather than how to cause it. The voices seemed to agree with this change of thought, encouraging him and giving him ideas.

Some said to lie to Schlatt, fake the kid’s death, run away with him so he would be safe from any other mercenary that Schlatt had hired.

Others said to kill Schlatt, but with how many allies that man had Techno knew that wasn’t an option.

“Dave?”

“My name’s Technoblade.” The man said suddenly, throwing Tommy off for a moment as he considered everything that had just been revealed. To most people, a name was a name.

To Techno, his name was only given to the people he loved and trusted most, he’d only ever given it to one person before. To Techno, his name was his own and no one elses to say.

To Tommy, Techno’s name wasn’t… well, Techno. He wondered why the man hadn’t told him to start with. He wondered why Techno’s face was equally as shocked as his own. He wondered why the man had such a strange name.

“I didn’t- I mean-“

“It’s alright, Techno,” Tommy returned quickly, pausing the man’s racing thoughts if only for a moment. The pause was purely from the relief of hearing his real name come from the boy’s mouth.

On that day, Technoblade decided he would do everything in his power to protect this kid, no matter the cost.

The kill count of the Blood God would end at number 17.

(The voices weren’t too happy about that, but they decided it would be fine if Tommy was alright.)

“Tommy.” Techno started, and boy how he knew he would regret this. But Tommy didn’t expect for him to continue speaking, he assumed his stress was over his name, but the tension had hardly fell from his shoulders since. “Tommy you’re- I’m-“

“Ares.” A voice came from behind him, dark and holding something Techno had only heard from the blood-thirsty chorusing in his head.

Schlatt.

Tommy paused, glancing at Techno for an explanation, but the man bit his lip.

The profile had said his birthday was on the 9th. He had until tomorrow to think of a plan.

“I said by his 18th.” Schlatt explained, and when Tommy looked back at Techno, he saw tears brimming in his eyes he was trying hard to keep down. “You’ve let me down.”

Why this man knew Techno, he wasn’t sure.

Why this man called Techno Ares, he also wasn’t sure, but he also wasn’t going to give the man away.

“Don’t worry man,” Tommy cut in, a smile on his face, carefully shaped in resignation that Techno found way too convincing for it to be faked, “We have an arrangement, it’s tonight, you’re all good.”

Schlatt shot him a confused look, looking between the two in confusion.

“What?”

Techno looked at Tommy, equally as confused.

Thankfully Schlatt didn’t notice.

“Listen.” Tommy tried, standing from his seat easily. “It’s okay, we have it sorted, I just wanted to wait a bit longer, i’m on your side.”

“You-“ Schlatt tried, pointing at Tommy before turning to Techno, the man slowly nodding as his pink hair bobbed over his shoulders, “You’re okay with it?”

“Yeah.” He replied, not entirely sure what he was saying they were doing but glad Techno was going along with it. “You have nothing to worry about big man.”

After a way too long moment, Schlatt sighed, pinching his nose as he muttered something to himself, stalking off without another word.

The moment the man was out of earshot, Tommy spoke again.

“What the fuck is he on about?” Tommy laughed out, pointing at the direction Schlatt had walked off in. Techno was too stunned to speak, eyes distant as his hands shook on the table. The voices mumbled to each-other, trying to find a way around this.

“Tommy, I’m the Blood God.”

The boy raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair as he crossed his arms over his chest, taking in the seriousness in the man’s voice.

He realised the man wasn’t lying.

No words came out of his open mouth.

“I was sent to kill you.”

Silence.

“But I’m not going to.”

“But you have to.”

“Well-“

“That dickhead will kill you if you don’t kill me!” Tommy pressed, leaning back forward and pressing his hands to the table. It was a little scary. “You have to.”

“I’m not killing you Tommy-“

“No one will even notice.”

“Tommy-“

“I promise i’ll be quiet, just promise to make it painless, you did it with the others you can do it again-”

“I can’t kill you, Tommy.” Techno said it with so much desperation the boy finally went quiet, watching a single tear fall down the man’s face as he ran a shaking hand through his hair, eyes shut as he muttered inaudible words to himself. “I’ve told you my name.”

He scoffed, “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Tommy you’re the only living person who knows who I am, who I really am.” He tried to get the message across, tried to let the boy know, but he seemed clueless, and the voices screamed at him to just say it. When Tommy didn’t reply, he was too distracted by the screams to stop himself “I love you, you’re my brother, and I can’t let you go now.”

Most people would’ve found out one of their best friends was one of the most wanted murderers and reported them to the police, maybe would’ve ran and screamed. But Tommy stayed still, thinking over the situation in his head.

Techno had killed at least 17 people before, and completely slipped past any suspicion. He was told to kill Tommy, but he didn’t and was now refusing to do so.

He should be scared, he should report him or do something logical, make the straight A’s worth it.

But he couldn’t.

“Then what’s the plan?” He asked with a growing smile, the determination settling into his face shocking Techno a little; he didn’t expect anything good from this, and yet here Tommy sat, continuing to stay alongside him despite every single death that sat splattered blood on his hand, ever smear of red he’d pressed to someone’s face apparently meant nothing to the kid.

Techno smiled back.

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

Sicktember #9

Prompt: White Coat Syndrome

Fandom/OCs: Jurassic World (Claire and Owen)

Words: 1700

Inspiration: None

Author’s comments/background: Set before the events of the first Jurassic World movie, a few days after the last fic I wrote for this fandom (read it here if you want). I know this isn’t a super popular fandom, but as I said before, it’s one I know well and can write easily. And guys like Owen are the perfect whumpees in my opinion. 

~~~***~~~

Claire wasn't sure what led her to go check on Owen that evening, except that she had a hunch he might need some help. The Monday after their strange “date”, he didn’t show up for work, and after some digging, she learned he had called in sick. A man like Owen Grady, born and raised in the military, doesn’t call into work for a cold, or for anything short of being near death. He hadn’t been well on Saturday, but it hadn’t seemed like anything alarming. Had he worsened over the rest of the weekend?

Going completely against her character, she actually left work early that day. “I won’t even leave in time to make sure I get dinner at a decent hour, but I’m leaving early to check on some random guy. What does that say about me?” she muttered to herself as she drove over to his bungalow. 

It looked much the same as it had two days prior, though today it had an almost deserted feel. With some trepidation, Claire mounted the steps and knocked. It took several tries before he answered, and when he did she regretted not texting ahead like she’d considered. He was an awful mess, looking sicker than anyone she’d ever seen. He was sweaty and disheveled, and he sagged against the doorframe as if his legs couldn’t hold him, yawning and shirtless and dressed in athletic shorts. Behind him his house was dark with all the blinds drawn, so she couldn’t see what lay beyond. 

“Claire?” he croaked, squinting into the afternoon sunlight, though he stayed as far back from the light as he could. “Whadt are you doi’g here?”

“I heard you were still sick, so I came to check on you. I’m glad I did, because, wow, are you looking horrible. Are you… okay?” 

“I mbean… I’ve been bedder. I wouldn’t have called in if I wasn’t sigck as hell.” He coughed wetly, proving his point. “Did you cumb jusdt to see for yourself, vouch to the bosses thadt I’mb ndot playi’g hooky? 

“I came because I was worried about you. I wanted to make sure you were taking care of yourself. Can I… come in for a minute?”

Owen ran a hand through his tangled hair. “I mbean… thadt’s really ndot ndecessary. I’mb fide. But I guess suidt yourself.” He stood aside to let her brush past. 

“I can see from here that you’re most certainly not fine. You said it yourself, you wouldn’t have called in if you were fine. Here, sit. Or lie down if you want. I’m sorry I got you out of bed. Can I get you anything?”

“Ndo. I told you, I’mb fide. I’mb… I’mb handli’g idt.” He gingerly lowered himself to the couch and lay back as he spoke, pressing a hand to his forehead as if in pain. 

“Nothing? Not even a glass of water? I can run to the store too. Whatever you need.”

“I guess sumb water. Budt you really don’t have to stay. I don’t wandt you to catch this.”

She ignored him and fetched him a tall glass of ice water. He sat up awkwardly, drinking down the liquid as if he hadn’t drunk anything all day. The way the fever sweat was pouring off him, she guessed he probably felt like he hadn’t. She’d brought a clean, dry cloth back with her from the kitchen and sponged off the sweat from his face and neck as he drank, then pressed her palm to his forehead. He was roaring with heat, much warmer than he’d been only a few nights before. He groaned softly as he leaned into her touch. 

“Damn, I should’ve brought a thermometer,” she sighed. “What hurts? You have to have some sort of infection with a fever like that.”

He shrugged, stifling a cough. “Mbainly jusdt mby head. I’ve had the worst splitti’g headache since yesterday. Mby ndose, I guess. Jusdt totally plugged up.” 

“Is there green mucus when you sneeze?”

“Umb… yeah,” he mumbled, embarrassed. 

“And your headache is here?” she gently touched right between his eyes. He nodded miserably, pressing the ice-filled glass to the spot as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Sinus infection,” she said, nodding sagely. “That means antibiotics. C’mon, I’ll drive you to the doctor. I don’t trust you behind the wheel, since I’m sure your head hurts too badly to see straight.”

Owen made a face. “I’ll jusdt ledt idt run idt’s course. I’mb ndot goi’g to the doctor jusdt for a cold.”

“Sinus infection,” Claire corrected. “And yes you are. It’ll take weeks to clear up on its own, if it ever does, and you’ll get worse before you get better. Trust me, the doctor is what you want.”

“Ndo, I really don’t. I’mb fide withoudt,” he insisted, and this time Claire thought she saw a flash of fear in his eyes. 

Claire raised her eyebrows. “Owen Grady, are you afraid of going to the doctor? You are, aren’t you!” she answered herself when he shook his head mutely, his eyes wide. “You’re not afraid of raptors, but you’re afraid of people in white coats?”

He sighed, then coughed wetly, glancing away. “Adt least the raptors would kill mbe fasdt. Doctors poke and prod you until you die a slow, paindful death instead. I had enough of thadt in the service.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” she said. “It’ll be a short visit. Just in and out to get a prescription. And I’ll be with you every step of the way. Consider it a second date. We can even get food after, if it’ll make you feel better.”

She had definitely piqued his interest upon mentioning a date, but she saw him continuing to war internally. “You’re sure I ndeed mbedicine?”

“Pretty certain, yeah. And you can’t tell me you aren’t wanting something to help you feel better faster.”

He shrugged as he looked up at her again, and all she saw was nervousness, which when paired with his visible illness made him seem incredibly boyish. “If I go, you’ll stay with mbe?”

“The whole time. If that’s what you want.”

He thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Thed I guess I’ll do idt. Since I can tell you’re ndot goi’g to ledt idt go.”

“Nope, I'm not. So I’m glad you’re being reasonable. Do you need help getting ready?”

She saw a flash of the old, roguish Owen then. “Are you offeri’g?” he asked with a smirk.

“You know what, forget I said anything. You go ahead, and take as long as you need. But try to not collapse while you’re naked, please. Neither of us wants that.”

“Yes mba’am,” came the slightly deflated response.

~~~

The urgent care visit and subsequent pharmacy run were unremarkable. Owen was a ball of anxiety the whole time, fidgeting and agitated. He was brusque and borderline rude to the nurses, even though most of them were very pretty, and Claire watched this transpire with curiosity. The telling moment came when they were taking his blood pressure and pulse, though. 

“Those are both pretty high,” came the verdict from the nurse. She looked at him seriously. “And you're not on any blood pressure meds. Other than your respiratory symptoms, are you feeling okay?”

“I’mb fide, like I keep telli’g everyone. I jusdt don’t wandt to be here,” he spat. 

A look of understanding crossed her face. “Oh, so a case of whitecoat syndrome, then. Got it.” She made a note in his chart, and nothing more was said about it, though Claire gave him a playful nudge when they were alone to try to lighten the mood. He mostly ignored her and stared at his feet, shivering in long sleeves and sweatpants and looking utterly pathetic. 

She could tell he was more than relieved when they pulled into his driveway after all was said and done, and beyond exhausted as well. It seemed like he barely made it to the couch before collapsing, burying his face into a throw pillow. 

Claire bustled around, setting things down and fetching him water and medicine as she listened to him sniffle and cough endlessly. Finally she perched on the edge of the couch and rubbed his back to get his attention. He turned to meet her eyes, his own heavy-lidded and fever-bright. 

“Just take this medicine and drink a glass of water, and then I’ll let you sleep,” she promised. 

He took the items and did as he was instructed before settling down again. Claire continued to stroke his back for a bit, and his eyes slipped closed under her touch. After a few moments she stood and stretched. 

“Are you leavi’g?” he croaked, opening his eyes as soon as her hand was gone.

“I guess so. You should get some sleep, and so should I. It’s getting late.”

His face fell. “Oh. Okay.”

“What? There’s nothing else I can do for you right now. We got everything you need at the pharmacy. There’s no reason for me to stay.”

“Can you… adt leasdt stay until I fall asleebp?” he asked, boyish and shy again. He wondered if he was doing that intentionally, because it was very effective. 

“And why would I do that?” she asked, leaning against the doorframe, echoing their exchange from a few nights prior with a smirk.

He clearly remembered, and smiled back. “Idt’s jusdt… you prombised you’d be with mbe every stebp of the way. The ndight’s ndot over yedt.”

Claire shook her head, still smiling. “So I did. Okay. Until you fall asleep, then.”

“Will you rub mby bagck again? Thadt feldt so good,” came the final congested request. 

“Give an inch and he asks for a mile," she laughed. "Fine, scoot over a bit, then.”

Owen eagerly complied, closing his eyes again as soon as Claire resumed scratching and rubbing his back. 

“Do you thingk you’ll cumb bagck tomorrow?” he asked sleepily after a few moments. 

“Maybe. We’ll see. If you play your cards right.”

“Thed I hope I gedt the besdt damn hand ever.”

Claire smiled to herself, and so did Owen. In fact, he fell asleep with a smile on his face. She kept rubbing his back, though, and didn’t move for a long time.