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girl-lostconnection · 2 months ago

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Continuation to this, Happy Easter, everybody

Patron Saint of One-way trips

You come to pray, Easter is right around the corner — violets blooming all over the yard of your apartment building, silver cross darkened from time feels April-cold on your neck at night.

You come to pray and light up a candle or two and for some reason he is there — so obviously out of place and out of his depth, unsure of who to turn to.

Good catholic boy with his pretty rosary, stranded in a church.

Like he got out on the wrong floor, but the elevator disappeared behind him as soon as he stepped out.

He eyes warily the glass-covered remains of saint Barbara, fingers tightening on a rosary of his, eyes flickering back and forth like he isn’t sure if he can stare.

Actual remains right there, right under the glass with people praying nearby like it is nothing special.

Or nothing unusual.

It would be a bit rude to say that your saint is nothing special when she is anything but.

But then his eyes land on you and you have the carelessness to look right back at him, making up his mind right then and there (when everyone else probably did the smart thing and ignored him).

Because the stranger starts walking towards you, charting the course through the innards of your church, blue jeans of his ripped and so painfully out of place. Even more so than he is.

You notice his eyes before you notice everything else. Before the mohawk, before the star-shaped scar on his temple, before the hand tremor.

His eyes — azure of old gravures, his eyes — the biblical shine people would usually leave to God's messengers.

Seers of divine, heaven’s favourites, prettiest angels of the Allmighty.

He awkwardly smiles at you, rolls his shoulders, silent overly friendly “can you believe it?” of the gesture makes you cringe a little.

But then he opens his mouth and god, no.

He is babbling so quickly that it takes you a minute to understand which language he is speaking.

Stranger stands haunching, tries to be smaller in the close vicinity to the golden walls of your church, his shoulders curling like he tries to fold vertically right in half. As if he wants to curl in on himself under the heavy, too realistic (too human) painted eyes of your painted saints.

“You need help?”, you finally ask, interrupting the flow of his consciousness and he gives you three quick blinks as if unsure how to respond to that.

The blue of his eyes makes you mentally come back to the phrase you said, translating it back and forth.

Your English is rusty but it is not too bad. At least, not enough for him to not be able to understand you.

But, maybe it’s the accent that catches him off guard — rolling and clear, too hard for someone who looks like you.

Phonetic cracking down of consonants as if they were walnuts in your mouth reminding him of the similar melodicity that his own harbours.

Well, here is something for you two to bond over later.

He blinks at you one more time and you chew down the urge to roll your eyes at the man.

Not a good thing to be too prideful in the temple of God and it’s another 30 meters to the exit and down the stone stairs until you are free.

Whether to walk away without looking at him another time or snap something in a sharp enough tone and unfamiliar enough language for a stranger to get the hint and leave you alone.

You aren’t in the mood for pleasantries.

Easter is right around the corner, thin wax candles in your grip smell the same sweet way that most old things in your grandmother’s home did. The way your grandma herself did.

Wax and honey and dust.

Could be a holy trinity of your every nostalgia, but nothing seems to stick well enough in the constantly foggy mind of yours.

Wax of entirely different candles still drips molten heat on the nape of your memory.

Rough hands and heavy gazes and off-handed “same time next month” rub the burn of it in and you almost space out before the stranger starts speaking again.

You always remembered sensations better than you did faces.

(Doesn’t help that your usual “same time next month” never shows his.)

“Ahm lost”, the stranger finally manages to choke out, his hands shaking in a way that reminds you of your mother’s bottomless wine glasses and immaculate covers of nail polish that she never could put on herself.

But the stranger in front of you doesn’t seem to be drunk and doesn’t have the same muted look in his eyes, the same glossiness, the same reaction coming just seconds too late.

Stranger in front of you doesn’t smell like the usual cocktail of urine, stale sweat seeped through the clothes and covered with deodorant of choice.

No smell of ethanol — days old and persistent. His tongue doesn’t dart out to lick too dry lips.

He doesn’t ask for spare change either.

Just for directions.

This much you can surely provide, eyes of the Holy Mary burr in the side of your head — heavy and disapproving of your tone.

“Where…”, you start before pausing, the sentence formation melting into goo inside of your head, proper words escaping you like you are going to eat them if they don’t.

Like your accent cracks them down - linguistic melodicity of a working Nutcracker that scares them shitless.

“What do you…find?”, you ask awkwardly, brain tossing up all your folders of phrasal verbs and you are tongue-tied and annoyed in front of a stranger.

The man looks at you quizzically and you choke out the urge to roll your eyes (again. and harder). What exactly does he not understand when…

Shit.

You rewind the phrase you just said and click your tongue, your head shaking from side to side.

Trying to shake out the red ink of false-false-false shining on your old English tests.

Fuck, it’s not “find”, it’s “look for”.

You take a deep breath and settle for the lesser of two phrasal evils and toss the politeness out of the window. Stained glass of your propriety cracks and yeah, no word cathedrals for the gentleman with blue eyes and annoying downturned smile.

You are not in the mood for a nice chat, you come to your church specifically so no one would try to have a conversation with you. But here you are, your vocabulary in disarray and your frustration climbing.

“What do you need?”, you reiterate and the stranger's whole face lights up with relief.

There we fucking go. Finally, thank you, God. May your blue-eyed wayward sheep not be abandoned under your watchful eye, amen.

“Catholic church.”, he quickly blurts out as if nervous that you will forget your English (again) and you have to fistfight the urge to smirk.

Of course, he does need a catholic church. As if it wasn’t obvious enough.

The man clearly needs some good prayer and maybe a sacrament before he can be sent on his way.

Something to calm the tremor of his and the nerves oozing off the tips of his outgrown greasy hair.

You tilt your head to the side, sudden urge to put your fingers in his mouth and press down on his tongue pulsing through you at a concerning intensity.

Stranger has a beautiful mouth.

You spend a second too long looking at it and catch the glimpse of his teeth when he starts talking again, his lips curling in that “could you believe that” smile and you push down the urge to pry his jaws open and rummage around, pressing your fingers to the sharp ends of his teeth.

How inappropriate would it be if you asked the man to bite you? Outside of your church, obviously. Wouldn’t want to scandalize anyone in the Lord's house.

“It was somewhere ‘round here. Could’ave sworn.”, he says apologetically and you rummage through your memory for an adequate translation of the “sworn”, but all that comes up is knight’s armour and swords.

So you just nod and force down the mental image of a stranger as a knight.

On his knees. Panting-

“Go.”, You huff out command and nod, turning away and fishing a hand in your bag.

Thin wool of your scarf is getting thrown over your shoulders like a shal and stranger gets thrown off balance by your immaculate ability in oratory.

He pauses, looming awkwardly just behind your shoulder — a big dog too used to someone taking his leash and getting confused when you don’t.

He starts moving only when you do, making a beeline to the heavy wooden doors of your church, slight limp in gait that would make you slow down normally.

But when you tried just a moment prior, he sent you a glare so heated you had to actually smirk.

Prideful.

Not a good thing to be in the Lord's temple.

In your defence, he started first.

Thankfully, you are already outside the church, giving yourself a pat on the back for good control of facial muscles.

Lord cannot judge what Lord cannot see.

And whatever transpires beyond your routine hours of church visit is between you and you.

And, hopefully, also between you and a blue-eyed stranger with a beautiful mouth you’d probably enjoy licking into.

“Ye ken where tah go?”, he asks after a few moments and it’s so tentative that you feel like smirking again.

That’s a good catholic boy right there — follow first, ask questions later.

“No”, you say, drinking in a way his eyes widen and he stops in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at you like you just kicked him. “You are pretty. I take you home with me”, you add, stone-faced and it feels like a little more and stranger will either tackle you to the ground or condemn you right next to your church for a very unchristian-like behaviour.

But he sends you a glare instead and stumbles back, cheeks of his burning and oh, he is angry with embarrassment, won’t you look at that?

Angry and so obviously lost that he has to tuck himself to the gates of your church.

Heavy set of his jaw and his head purposefully turned the other way from you do absolutely nothing to put out the fire of insistent “ask him to bite, ask him to bite, ask him to bite’ in your head.

The stranger stays silent and angry, not looking your way so diligently that you can’t help but smirk again.

Wounded pride, was it?

Asked for directions from a lonely bird in the foreign church and got some nonsense thrown in your face.

So mean of you.

Almost enough to make you wonder what God would say if he saw it. Probably nothing good, but that would also be nothing new.

Religious guilt is not something you practice, religious atonement on the other side…

Lines from yesterday’s shibari pull on your skin with satisfying tingling. Every movement is a live reminder of how you sought absolution. Amen to that.

You shiver like a well-petted dog and roll your shoulders, wrapping tighter in your shal. Your fingers (sticky with wax and sweet with devotion) softly tug on a stranger's sleeve.

When he refuses to turn around, stubbornly staring away, you just sidestep, putting yourself in his direct line of sight.

The man is too ragged to snap his head from side to side every time you move, you are pretty sure he’d pinch a nerve and refuse to admit forever staying turned to the left. That would be fun. You’d love to squeeze the nape of his and get a whine. Or a hiss.

You aren’t too picky in that regard. Just a sneer would also be lovely, maybe he’d snap and sink his teeth into something. You, for example.

“You look so sad”, you start with a tone so sympathetic that he glares at you with suspicion of someone who got a taste of your Christian hospitality and not only haven’t gotten fed but was also robbed of his dignity in the process. “So very sad.”, you continue in the meantime, your fingers wrapping around his wrist and maybe he should have shaken you off, should have snapped at you for getting touchy.

But he doesn’t, his pulse pumping under your fingertips, his head tilting to the side.

Big lost dog, unsure whether to snap his jaws at you or nuzzle in.

“A little more time and people will throw you coins.”, you finish with the most innocent look on your face and the stranger looks at you like he cannot believe your audacity.

“Ahm not sad”, he spits out and you have to kick down a bubbling giggle. Of-fucking-course not. Just look at him sulking at the steps of your Orthodox Church like he’s an orphan abandoned at the wrong doorstep.

“Very sad.”, you nod solemnly, cheeks flushed and hair bouncing, your lips trembling from how hard you try not to laugh. “Come. I show you the church.”, you peel him off the gates and tug the man to follow, masking your cackle with a cough when a granny actually offers him some change.

Stranger sends you a glare so scalding that you have to pretend to cough again, pulling your scarf over your nose.

Very sad, indeed. Like a big dog someone tied to the lamppost and left to wait for a thing that would never come.

Stranger trails just half a step behind you, a little too practised, a little too intentional. Exactly far enough for you to keep holding onto his wrist and close enough for you to not drop it when you feel a pull of his arm.

“Ahm John.”, not anymore a stranger introduces himself and you smile, glancing at him sideways. Good name. Strong. Rolls off the tongue.

Old enough to rival yours.

“Nice to see you, John”, you nod, dropping your own in his palm and force down a shiver when he holds it between his teeth, drawing out. His lips twitch in something very similar to a grin, almost wolffish in his satisfaction, not a trace of earlier puppy-like awkwardness.

“I’s ‘nice to meet ye’, bonnie.”, he corrects you and you pause, part of you shrinking away, again small and again in fifth grade with your test returned. Older part just smirks and presses the nail on the tender inside of his wrist, poking him hard.

“Maybe for you it’s nice to meet me. For me right it’s only nice to see you.”, you look him up and down, covering your own snappy defensiveness behind bluntness most would take for the lack of shame. “What do ‘bonnie’ mean?”, the sudden change of topic makes John grin wider, his eyes crinkling.

Oh, fuck, he’s pretty.

“Good-lookin’. Beautiful. Nice to see.”, he copies your accent, his eyes half lidded and shameless and you feel your lips twitching.

Yeah, you can ask the man to bite you alright.

You get him to the beautiful Catholic Church and wait outside, mentally giving the man half an hour before your toes would start freezing off inside of your beautiful thin-leathered boots.

Maybe if you knew God would send a beautiful man your way, you’d dress better for the weather but alas. Easter is close, you were out only to pray a little and light up a candle for saint Sophia.

Stranger is out in exactly 8 minutes, his head turning from side to side like he’s looking for someone. His eyes lighting up when he spots you loitering on the doorstep of his church.

Pretty bird with heavy glares and lips he’d like to bite until she yelps and tries to push him away.

Johnny grins, rasping out “ye come here often, bonnie?”, something inside of him swelling with warmth when her lips twitch and she wheezes out surprised laughter, her cheeks flushing.

Pretty-pretty-pretty, pounds in his head when she rolls her eyes at him, her lips curled in a smile, her hair in disarray from the cold April winds.

Johnny flirts with pretty bird on the steps of his church and forgets that his painkillers are shit, that he haven’t had a shower in god knows how long, that he got lost and laughed at for stumbling around like a fool.

She laughs and nothing else matters much, her eyes crinkling in a way that make Johnny want to ask if he can come home with her and sleep in her bed and maybe live in her skin.

As long as she laughs like that, as long as she’s this warm, as long as she sparks like a live wire.

And for the first time since getting discharged he feels like doing something with his hands.

What’s there inside of ya, if he cracks you open and takes a look inside? Would you blow up in his face, would you be patient with his wooden, trembly hands that once were as dexterous as they get?

Would you even let him get this close or have you been tracking the way he moves since he came up?

Johnny offers his elbow and to his absolute delight you take it, pulling him someplace nice and warm. Someplace with decent food and a drink stiff enough to dull his perpetual migraine.

Pretty bird, would you tell him why you are so mean to a stranger in a house of the Lord and so flirty with a man that looks like he’s falling apart?

What is it, questionable tastes or a kink for saving God’s most hopeless 2025?

Johnny grins when you scoff at him, not responding outright, telling him he’d see if he’s good.

Johnny licks his lips, nodding and leans to your ear, creature in his head eagerly wagging its tail when you hiss at him to fucking move. He can be good, bonnie.

Wanna see?

You roll your eyes at him, snappy and curt, accent too hard and consonants clicking off your teeth like you have a habit of chewing down suckers.

Johnny’s a sucker alright, you can chew on him.

The memory of you wheezing when he offers it haunts him as he sits in the quiet dark wooden box that is confessional.

Heart pounding, silence stretching, his tongue tying because he doesn’t…he didn’t want this. Not like that, never like that. But here he is.

“Forgive me father”, Soap starts, his hands clammy, migraine thumping in his temples, agitation setting on the inside of his jaws, tightening them together until it hurts his molars.

You appear out of nowhere , you don’t even find him yourself – he finds you and it’s a little less cold out on the street of the city he is supposed to know, but doesn’t anymore.

You, with your scarves and your horrible horrible jokes and your accent – sharp like the pieces of walnut that you crushed with the heel of your palm, popping it in your mouth right after.

Crunch of it echoes in the way you pronounce “darling” and “ridiculous” when Johnny steps on his shoelaces because tying them up felt like too much work and bending down made him dizzy. And being dizzy annoyed the bleeding fuck out of him.

You crush your walnuts on his kitchen table, always splitting in two piles so you can share with him the excess he kisses off your fingers.

His whole kitchen still smells like spices and nuts, remnants of your baking all over the table.

Johnny sits in the confessional and doesn’t know how to choke out that he wanted you to stay for more than a few more days or weeks, so you would sit in his kitchen and colour your bloody eggs for “your” Easter and shush him while the dough rises in a towel wrapped bowl.

Soap doesn’t know how to say that for the first time in forever, he cared whether someone leaves or stays, that he had so much fun with you that his cheeks ached, his lips now twitching on pure instinct when he thinks of you.

He often heard that he must be the sun in the relationships, that he is the chatty shiny half to your moodiness and sharp tongue, but by god, you are the sun in his sky – merciless and radiant, your eyes burning-burning-burning him.

Yet he still stayed and later peeled off the charred layers of himself, your kisses between his shoulder blades left him shivering.

Left him wanting, because Johnny is from a place where sun shines only 60 days per year, so your heat left him greedy and raw.

Sun comes into his life and he decided that he never want it to leave.

“Forgive me, father, for ah was prideful”, Soap says instead, his grip tightening on rosary, your eyes looking back at him whenever he blinks, your “bye, John” aching in him with the shards of mirror he hit so hard, that he had to call himself a bloody cab and go to the urgent care.

16 stitches on his useless shaky scarred hands.

“And seven years of misfortune.”, your voice grumbles in his head and maybe that was it, maybe his 7 years has begun.

God finally delivered some proper divine retribution for the daftest of his wayward sheep.

Soap got so used to you always being there, snapping right back at him, smacking him to keep going and keep moving and “don’t whine, John, you aren’t a baby, you are a darling” that when it went away with you and he felt like a shockwave finally hit him, deafening.

Ripping him open and cauterising immediately.

Soap thinks of the way your lips twitched and brows furrowed as you silently got up and left because he is dumb-dumb-dumb, because you breathe out “you aren’t the only, you are just one” and he recoils.

Red haze of anger curling in his head, stuffing his throat with things he shouldn’t have said, not to you, never to you.

“Ah’ve been selfish”, Soap says, his heart pounding because his hunger was always the size of him whole. Gnarly needy beast with gruesome ways and questionable tastes.

At least, Ghost always managed to make his own unhinged doors to the dark cavern of his head look like a gothic bloody lair that birds with big eyes and tastes as questionable as Johnny’s liked to explore.

Too many people had crushes on serial killers and it shows, but that’s just Johnny’s thoughts, not like someone asks him what he thinks on the matter.

Not when Ghost got a bird of his own and Johnny – not used to this much free time on his head and head this loud and flat this empty bumped into his sun.

And lost his mind.

Whatever was left of his rationality after taking a bullet to the head, flew right out the window when a pretty bird with heavy eyes and cold fingers dragged him through the street. Laughing and chatting in grammar she borrowed from somewhere else and orthography of English she butchered mercilessly.

Johnny’s hunger is a vicious wild thing that he kicked down for years (good boys don’t ask for anything, don’t cry loudly and don’t crawl back from an injury that should have killed them immediately), but the beast grows up and now tears him apart to get even.

Suits him well.

Creature of aching shameful need kisses your inner thigh and Soap feels them merging into one, no longer separate sinful pieces, no more bad-wrong-stop in his head.

You’d pull him in, smiling under his smooches and biting hit arms and spreading your legs and he wouldn’t feel wrong. He wouldn’t feel like a freak.

Like a sinner.

Not when he kissed your inner thigh and your legs opened for him like gates to Heaven, his absolution glistening at the apex of your thighs. Nor when he leaned in and kissed the soft mound, your coarse curls pressing to his nose.

“Ah’ve been selfish and…”, he tries again, his shoulder aching, his head pounding, hunger of his getting out of control. Because you’d sit on his lap and his head would finally get silent – your fingers in his mouth, opening it wider, prying open his jaws so he’d drool all over you, whimpering when you’d sink on his cock.

Mean as fuck, bonnie. Not going to let him say even a word?

You’d just just hum in a language he doesn’t understand, prying his jaws open and licking into the wet maw of his mouth, your hips rising and falling, rolling into him – the tides of your sea were coming up to wash him off of his sins.

Your eyes – the storm, your eyes staring at him with the same heavy intensity he’d see in the eyes of your painted saints, your eyes – silent promise and question.

What were you asking of him? What did you really want in the space between Johnny’s hunger and Johnny’s rage? What did you say when he was cut open and drooling all over your hands, the insides of his want showing, the edge of his delusion fraying?

What did you want with him when he wanted nothing with himself even on the good days? Too moody, too drowsy, too broken and too slow. Not a match to his shiny talented brother in arms, not a match to his reliable ever standing captain, not a match to the heavy authority his L.T yielded. Not a match.

He couldn’t keep up, he got sloppy, he broke down and now he was on the fucking bench.

Why did you need to come and bring him down with your radiant merciless shine?

Why did you make him want for something he did not deserve and was never worthy of?

He remembers asking in the delirium of his pleasure, in the aching raw need to be soothed, to be loved-loved-loved.

What did you say, Johnny couldn’t remember to save his life. He just remembers the way his teeth would press in the pads of your fingers.

What did you want with him, m’eudail?

Johnny laps at your fingers, presses down his teeth just shy of breaking the skin – your cunt spasming around him, almost unmaking him on the spot.

Johnny whines when you pull your fingers out, babbling answers to the question you didn’t ask.

Yes, m’eudail, yes. Anything.

His eyes are shining, tears rolling down his cheeks when you’d raise your hips and let his head slip out of the slick heat of your pussy with a wet sound.

Mean as fuck, bonnie. Not going to let him come for the third time in a row now?

Soap aches all over on a good day, but this is aching of a different kind, his eyes half lidded and half feral when you’d roll out “wanna be good for me, John?”.

Yes.

Yes-yes-yes-yes.

Please, he wants to be so good, he can be so fucking good for you, bonnie. He’d do anything, whatever you ask, anything at all, please, m’eudail, please let him come.

Corners of your lips twitch when he’d cry, drooling all over your hands. Dog of a man – aching for approval, aching for salvation.

“No.” would seal his fate for another hour with Johnny groping your ass and hips, fingers rubbing in the touch of his in your skin like he doesn’t want to just leave bruises on you but fingerprints.

Greed of his almost as big as his hunger, his jaws closing around you the day you dragged him down the street to show that he had just missed a turn to the Catholic church, your eyes shimmering with laughter, your lips cold from winds and sticky with lipgloss.

“Mine.”Johnny aches, his hips jerking up to meet yours, slick and lube dripping down his shaft and scrotum, sweat dripping down his face – star-shaped scar on his temple itching from salt.

Johnny is selfish, he burns himself out from inside, slams down the nails with “dread-shame-guilt” written all over until he can’t feel anything but divine suffering, until everything else blurs out. So he can keep ignoring the tender flutter under his ribs when you kiss his jaw and murmur “darling John”, your accent thickening and your lashes casting long sharp shadows.

Selfish-selfish-selfish, sneers the voice in his head but Johnny looks up at you, his thumb circling around your clit, his lips curling in a smile when you bite the inside of your cheek and glare at him.

“Mean as fuck, bonnie.” Johnny breathes out, feeling so free he could breathe without hurting, his eyes warm, his whole face lighting up with tenderness he refuses to acknowledge.

Nothing to look at there, nothing at-fucking-all.

“Gonna be guid fer me, m’eudail?” He murmurs, two of his fingers stretching you out, torturously slow, infuriatingly good, your pelvis practically in his lap when he pushes a pillow under your lower back and drags you closer.

He toys with you, taking every bit of pleasure from your reactions, no matter how small – his fingers curling inside of you until your breathing hitches, your eyes getting glossier, your mouth falling open.

That’s because you deserve it, bonnie.

That’s because the hunger the size of Johnny wants you pliant and trembling, wants you teary-eyed and babbling, wants you to fuck yourself on his fingers so he can watch.

Same fingers he’d use to sign the Catholic cross – forehead-chest-left to right shoulder – his thumb tapping your clit just so he can get all of your attention to himself. His middle and forefinger finger your fluttering dripping hole.

For the Father, the Son and The Holy Spirit, m’eudail. Isn’t it right?

“Amen.”Johnny breathes out, pulling your legs up, hoisting them over his shoulders so he can get closer. His thumb on your clit moving, slick sound of your own hunger scorching your face, your lids closing shut.

How inappropriate would that be if you asked the man to slap you right now?

“Амінь.”, you instead choke out, forgetting your English and Johnny grins, his head falling between your legs.

Silence stretches in the confessional, someone’s cough snapping Soap out of his daze, the feel of your legs on his shoulders is so vivid his headache backs off and he can see a little better. Thank God for that.

He sits in the dark, smell of wood and dust not soothing him like always before, rosary in his hands not clicking like it should, his face too hot and his pants tight when he forces himself to keep talking.

“Ah’ve been vain.”, Soap says and tries not to think to the way he sported your lipstick kisses all over his neck last time he met the rest of the team, feeling on top of the world, feeling like maybe he is not behind and he is doing something right.

Like he’s finally reaping the good stuff and not the usual “sorry about that, mate”, not the condescending advice of ever friendly Gaz, not the silent stares Ghost gives out, not the arched brows of Captain who acts like Johnny is 15 and can’t fucking see the way they act around him ever since he got discharged.

Soap tries not to think that he boasted about his bird to his team, grinning like a madman, hammer of his excitement swinging when he’d lean on the table sharing details, sharing things he probably shouldn’t have.

Sharing about his bird who is not really his.

Soap tries not to think the way Ghost at some point went out for a smoke break and he followed the man, still chirping away his lieutenant’s ear and trying to get…what was he even trying to get out of Ghost?

A rise? A reaction?

Pat on the back for being a good lad and adjusting all well and proper to civilian life even though three months ago he was clawing up the walls and calling Simon at the middle of the night, slobbering about his headaches and heartaches and asking for things he shouldn’t have?

Things Simon gave him with excess. Until he didn’t.

And then Soap really slipped, spiralling down, clawing at every excuse to see the team, to chat them up, to not feel like he’s being left behind.

And now…now that he got you, now that he’s sporting sticky lipstick kisses all over his throat and cheeks and grinning like a madman as he shares even more with Simon. Because that’s…that’s his L.T., right? That’s his Simon. That’s his Ghost. He can tell him anything, can’t he?

But just because he could didn’t mean that he should have.

Not when at some point Simon hummed, his eyes heavy with something Johnny didn’t fucking like, Simon’s hollowed out eyes crinkling when bastard’s lip curled upwards, when he leaned in and breathed out smoke sideways.

When he rolled out your name off his bloody tongue like he did it a hundred times before, the easy familiarity of it burning Johnny, hitting Johnny in the chest like a bitch of a recoil, deafening Johnny with rage-hurt-rage.

Because why did he have to say that?

Why did Simon need to go and take away the only good thing that appeared in Soap’s clusterfuck of a life after deployment?

“Ah’ve been selfish and prideful and vain.”, he confesses, shame and rage warring in him, his grip on rosary tightening, his face burning. Because bad-bad-bad. Bad fucking dog, Johnny, bad sergeant, bad boy.

No wonder you got up silently and left without arguing when he rained down on you like a hysterical wife, when he said things he shouldn’t have, when he got so fucking jealous he could hardly tell left from right.

The only thing in the empty cracked shell of his head is the way Simon grinned, rolling out the name of yours, easy affection — old and practiced, like Ghost was there before Soap even could dream up you in the painkillers-induced delirium and before God lead him to you.

The only thing in his brain is the way you shrugged off his initial snappy mean comments, not seeing a problem with the fact that you fucked with his fucking lieutenant.

That Ghost fucked Soap’s bird. Soap’s sun.

Soap’s you.

“Ah…pushed someone away. For guid. Dinnae ken how to take it back and…ah messed up.”, Soap continues and braces his forearms over his knees, his shoulders aching, his head pounding, his heart hurting.

Fucking hell, how did he even get into this?

When did he went from having your easy shine and sharp teasing to not having you at all? Not as a hook up, not as a friend with benefits, not as his bird. Not as anything.

Soap tries not to think about he way you dragged him out to hike after he finished up his fucking rehabilitation. God knows you were stubborn and dragged him to hell and back until he relented and went in.

Snapping and cursing and complaining all the way.

But he went and as the result you were driving out somewhere in the smack of the dab of the god of his own homeland to “see pretty places, darling John”.

Didn’t see much of pretty places, but got drenched in the rain and almost had a fistfight on some bridge, because you just don’t know how to stop and he just doesn’t know how to back down.

Too chatty for your own good, both of you are. No fucking wonder you both fucked Ghost. Seems like L.T. has a type.

Soap clasps his hands together, memory of you — sweating and groaning flashing through his mind like a lightning bolt. Some people are just not built for hiking but you refused to accept that you were one of them.

Dragging Soap up and down the trail so he’d get his steps for the day before you relented and started the journey down to the cabin you rented.

Also in the smack of the dab of the bloody gob.

But you’d grin at him a little too excited and suddenly it all would be worth it. The rain, the cold, the gloom and endless green-green-green of the hills because really, there was nothing else but like hell you’d let Johnny to just go back.

He can sit on his ass back in the city, out here you two are walking the trail up and down and sideways.

Didn’t help much that Johnny was evidently built incredibly well for hiking and tolerated the difficulties of it with infuriating ease.

“Speed down”, you’d huff out, tugging on a sleeve of happy and overly energetic Soap. He does, but grins with a little too much satisfaction for your liking.

You should get on his nerves more often, the man looks moisturised and well-rested, seems like you aren’t trying hard enough.

“Ye meant, “slow down”.”, he points out, savouring every syllable. Big dog of a man, a little more and he will drool all over his sentences.

And all over you if you aren’t going to pull the cut of your sweater a bit higher.

“I meant, fuck you, John.”, you scoff at him, deliberately ignoring his energetic “wha’? right here, hen?” and smack his hands off when he attempts to pull your sweater lower to get himself some more cleavage to look at.

Big bad dog of a man.

“You are so sad.”, Soap starts, grinning like the Devil’s prettiest henchman. “Very very sad.”

You groan loudly, trying to drown out his gloating with your wails as you walk away from him, people turning their heads at the two of you. But unfairly so, even post rehab Soap’s legs are faster than yours.

“So so sad. A little more time and people will start throwing coins at you.”, he draws out in an infuriatingly good imitation of your accent.

“Ah will leave you at church step like ye are a bad dog. Or a bad orphan.”, you threaten in poor imitation of his and Johnny cackles so hard he has to stop walking and steady himself on someone’s fence.

“They didnae take me”, Soap grins at you like it’s good news not even Catholics wanted him all too much and takes a turn to ignore your “i wonder why”. “Ye are stuck, bonnie.”

“I will leave you at a different church”, you grumble and he has the nerve to giggle again and louder, almost slipping into a full chested laughter, the one that makes blood flow to your face and he knows it a little too well. Fucker.

“Like a wee bairn?”, Johnny asks with too much enthusiasm, the arch of his brow curious and effortless. He slings his sweaty arm over your shoulders and beams like a thousand suns when you hiss at him.

“Like a wee saint”, you murmur, squinting at too bright and not warm enough sun. The weather is so atrocious that you risk turning into ash at this point.

But Johnny cocks his head to the side — just watches you for a few moments like he is not sure he heard you right. He is no saint, he’s hardly the part of the wolf pack that 141 often feels like.

John is a big mutt of a man. A stray that found you and refused to leave later.

All coarse hair and big beautiful mouth full of teeth that you still want to touch.

“Saint of what, hen?”

You take a pause, eyes trailing star shaped scar on his temple and you grin again, like it’s something funny, like you could come up with a dozen jokes on the spot — each new worse than the last one.

“Patron Saint of one-way trips”

Johnny blinks at you. Thrice. Quickly.

Realisation dawns on him at the same time you start cackling and he gasps, smacking your hip.

Wicked wicked woman you are. Mean as fuck, bonnie, mean as fuck.

“Real dark, hen.”, he mumbles and leans in to bite the apple of your cheek for good measure. Just to keep it between his teeth, pretending to chew on the soft flesh so you don’t go getting chattier than you already are with him.

“They won’t take you as anything else”, you laugh, your shoulders shaking when you add, “You eat too much otherwise.”

“Now, THAT you gonna take back”, Soap gasps scandalised and tries to walk in the direction opposite from yours.

As if either of you knows this trail well enough not to get lost.

“John, come back! Come back, John, don’t leave me here, I’m no orphan”, you gasp out laughing, following him on shaky buckling knees and Soap starts walking faster.

His shoulders also shake and maybe that’s why he refuses to slow down, only picking up his pace when you threaten to throw a rock at him.

Blue-eyed bastard.

“Ah took mah blessings for granted. Ah…did things I shouldnae have. And ah’m not sure I can take them back. Not sure she’d take me back.”, John continuous, dragging himself out of the memory that makes him ache just harder because he doesn’t fucking deserve to sit here and reminiscence.

He doesn’t deserve the warmth, doesn’t deserve to know how you laugh when you are so mad you could strangle him but he made just the right joke and now you are furious but doubled in half.

Johnny doesn’t deserve you. But God knows he wants you.

God knows he doesn’t know when to back down, so he sits in the confessional and the same evening packs his things up and takes off.

God knows he doesn’t deserve shit after stunt he pulled.

God also knows that on occasion Soap couldn’t care less what he deserves, what he’s allowed, what would be okay to take.

On occasion, Johnny gets why the wide-eyed perfect birds fall for bastards like Ghost. Because Simon always took what he wanted.

At times it was a fresh kill, at time it was Johnny, at times it was Johnny’s head he liked to fuck with.

Old affection of his destructive and poisonous, but as stable as a man like Ghost could ever get.

So in a rare moment of solidaric compassion Soap packs things up and sets off to go and see you again.

You don’t have to take him back, bonnie. Don’t have to do a single fucking thing, not after things he said, not after him being a daft fuck who couldn’t grow a pair and admit how much he wanted you.

He just…just wants to say that he’s sorry.

Though it doesn’t seem to make you any friendlier when your eyes cross with his.

Johnny stands in the middle of your church, awkward and out of place, his Mohawk freshly shaven, his eyes the impossible blue of old gravures and God’s wayward sheep, his legs long enough to walk him to hell and back.

You stare back at him, fingers clutching the wax candles, your brows furrowing, your defences snapping in place because what the fuck he is doing in your church, when you come to pray and not have a pleasant chat.

“What do you need?”, you cut to the chase, glaring and Holy Mary is behind your back and you are not going to feel guilty and you aren’t gonna cry.

But Soap steps closer, angles his head to look at you, shoulders spread out, his gaze unwavering when you try to make him look away-away-away.

“Ahm sorry.”, he murmurs quietly, not touching you. Not yet. Not when you are wound up spring that will uncoil and push him till he breaks. “Ah was a cunt.”

Your grip tightens on your candles, the smell of frankincense sweet and cloying, you rage simmering just under the surface when he stands there and has the nerve to look hurt.

Because he deserved it. Because he hurt you and you want to hurt him.

Your fingers twitch to scratch, to slap, to hit him again and again until he recoils, until he curls in on himself like a wet napkin of a mutt he was when you first met.

Because you don’t know how to stop and he never learned how to back down and doesn’t plan to start learning now, hunting you down in a city that should be as foreign to him as your language is.

Because you come to pray and not to have a pleasant chat.

And here he is, standing in your church in his blue jeans and blue sweater with his blue eyes.

What does he even want with you? After everything said and done what would he want with you?

When he made it so clear what he thinks of you and your past and your ways and your sins. When he condemned you and himself, his voice cracking, his eyes feral and hurt, his scarred shaky fingers curled into fists that he’d slam into the mirror as soon as you’d leave his flat. And leave him.

“Don’t swear in my church.”, you snap at him and Johnny nods, eyes impossibly soft, lips of his curled into the annoying downturns smile.

“Want me to step outside?”, he offers gently, having the nerve to joke when you are that mad at him, when you want to bash his head on the wall of your church and leave his star-shaped scar cracked open and bleeding.

New saint for your church. Saint of one-way trips.

“I can’t say what I want you to do, God wouldn’t approve of it.”, you grumble, turning away from him and light up a candle, your hands trembling when he sidesteps around you.

“Never stopped you before, m’eudail.”, Soap mentions off-handedly and you roll your eyes at him because yeah, maybe he is right but you have standards. No swearing in your church. And no sex in his.

Boundaries had to be drawn when you started…whatever the fuck that was. Not like you could call it dating. You just were together. Always and everywhere.

Until you weren’t.

“What do you want, John?”, you sigh, glaring at him sideways so he tilts his head to be able to look you in the eye, getting a little closer.

Half a step.

Not enough to make you pull away, but enough to make you notice that he is starting to fill the field of your vision. “You watch me like a big dog. It’s scary.”

“Ah’m not a big dog”, Soap corrects you automatically and steps a little closer, standing just a finger away from you, practically crowding you in the corner of your church. “And ah want ye. Always. Forever. As long as ye’d take me.”, he shrugs like it’s obvious and not a thing he remembered only after blatantly stating his need to have you.

“You are a massive dog”, you snap right back, smacking his hip when he gets too close, his hand snaking over your shoulders, his fingers plucking candles out of your loosened grip and silently lighting them up in front of saint Galina’s mural. “Stop pressing to me, you said yourself no sex in the church”, you hiss at him, feeling his smile when he leans lower, his lips ghosting over the temple of yours.

Wolffish grin of his sending flutter that you refuse to acknowledge. You don’t want him, you don’t need him and he doesn’t want to have sex with you.

What’s more here to say? The man is just wasting your time.

“Ah said, no sex in my church, bonnie. Whatever happens in your church is between you and God.”, Soap says with surprising diplomacy, your face freezing when you turn your head to him. Like you can’t believe his audacity.

“All this time I could have fucked you in a church and you were silent, MacTavish?”, the hiss of yours sends shivers down his spine, uncoils sweet aching in his lower abdomen, his nose pressing to the cheek of yours, teeth aching to sink in and drag you back to Scotland.

“You still can.”, Johnny murmurs, nuzzling in you, breathing you in like this is exactly what he needed. His mean bird, snapping her beak at him, threatening to leave him without his bloody fingers if he’s not quick or smart enough.

His sun, his soulmate, his wife.

There is a stretch of silence he feels acutely, breathing your smell in just deeper, trying to remember the way it makes him dizzy in case you smack him in the middle of your church and call the fucking police on his ass for harassing you in the house of the Lord. That would not be fun.

“Doesn’t mean im taking you back.”, you announce after a moment, your glare on him heavy and exasperated when he beams at you like Devil’s prettiest henchman.

Like God’s wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“Ye dun have to, mo chridhe.”, Johnny rumbles, pressing himself tighter in you, your palm slipping under the hem of his sweater and shamelessly groping his pec. Someone’s been missing him just as badly, didnae ye?

Johnny lets you pull him under the stairs and pull his cock out of the pants, pumping it too rough and too quick, his tongue darting out to go over his lips, his eyes only on you.

Johnny doesn’t mention that you don’t have to take him as anything. He’s just going to be yours.

“Would ye be sad if ah broke Simon’s jaw?”, he murmurs quietly and rolls his hips in your stilled grip, your head snapping up to look at him.

Needy creature in his chest rumbling that he has to get you back home. Under him. Crying and babbling and spreading your legs and laughing at his smooches.

“Did you?”, you ask instead and spit on the head of his cock, smearing it over the sensitive flesh, rubbing it in, tightening your hold on him.

“Ah plan to.”, Johnny shares like it’s a good piece of gossip and you can’t help but kiss him, your tongue licking into his mouth, his drool dripping in your mouth and down his chin, his hips rolling into your touch. “Can take it as yes?”, he breathes out, breaking a kiss and gripping the wall harder when you growl at him.

Mean as fuck, bonnie. Won’t let him say even a word now?

“You can take it however you like, John. But you break his jaw and he’d break your spine.”, your throat works, the free hand of yours holding onto his shoulder when Johnny slips his palm under your skirt.

Touchy, cocky, bad bad dog of a man.

“You will just have to kiss it better.”, Soap smiles a little dazed and his fingers pull your panties to the side, finally getting to touch the wet heat of your pussy.

Aw, hello to you too, lassie. He’d missed you just as badly, not to worry.

“Can’t even leave you at church doorstep anymore. Fed you too good, now you are too big”, you breathe out, angling your hips so he can slide a second finger inside of your pussy, Johnny’s eyes hungry and dazed, Johnny’s eyes half lidded and half feral.

Johnny just nods at all your complains and stretches you until you drip down his fingers, choir singing something beautifully, his free arm wrapped around you. Holding you in the dark corner under the stairs.

Maybe he should lift a ban on sex at his church. Confessional booth would have been more convenient.

“Gonna be yers then”, Soap slips up and adds when you open your mouth to remind that you aren’t taking him back and aren’t letting him wiggle his way back in and he should go fuck off back to Scotland. “Could be yer saint, bonnie. Could be so guid to ye for being guid to me”, he promises, his thumb circling your clit, his middle and forefinger nestled inside of your fluttering needy pussy.

Hungry fucking thing, he can feel how much you missed him and his fingers and his unhinged ideas and his borderline insane lewd babbling during sex.

“Kinky.”, you murmur quietly and nuzzle in his shoulder when he hoists you knee up, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance. “You have to know, I’m bad at praying”

Johnny laughs quietly, sinking into you like he never left, like he’s coming home and bringing you with him and calling his L.T. to fistfight the bastard until he breaks him something. At least a pinky.

His grip around you tightening, his lips ghosting over your cheeks and nose and temples and all over. Wherever he can reach, his smile imprinting on the inside of your eyelids.

Should be illegal for a man to have a mouth this beautiful.

“Think we gonna be alright, bonnie. Think we gonna be fine.”, Johnny breathes out like it’s a little more than just about your lack of praying knowledge or a little more than sex in your church or a little more than your tug of war ever since you two met.

You grip him tighter, your cunt spasming around him and Johnny has to count to ten and back. In Gaelic.

But you breathe out “yeah. Gonna be fine”, and Johnny pulls you up, pressing your back to the wall, letting you kick his lower back as much as you want.

He’d let you do just about anything.

Whatever it takes to be yours. Whatever it takes to earn another blessing of his sun.

Soap rolls his hips into you, his breath hitching when someone walks just above the two of you, adrenaline pumping through him when you pull the collar of your sweater down so he can get his mouth on your tits.

Forget what he said, bonnie. Next time you are gonna do it in a confessional booth.

He needs his better half riding him as close to God as possible. Maybe this way he’d show that he may be the worst wayward sheep there is, the saddest bastard in the universe when it comes to blessings and chances.

But he sure as hell knows a thing or two about devotion.

Even if it’s the one aimed only at you.

#call of duty #cod mw2 #patron saint au #girl.snippets #easter snippet #soap mactavish x reader #cod soap #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #cod john mactavish #john mactavish x reader

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emloafs · 7 months ago

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so you think the mohawk kid stares at his best friend's lips a lil too long, now what?

HAWKMETRI FIC REC! here's a complete list of my favorite Hawkmetri/Binary Boyfriend fanfics for those who need a crash course into this niche brain rot (which no one asked for). Read below!

silver on your tongue, copper on your lips by HearJessRoar | 2k words | CMON YOU ALREADY KNOW! There’s a reason this one of the highest ranked fics in their ao3 tag. It’s so them. Fighting turned makeout sesh? Spectacular give me fourteen of them right now. Couldn’t tell you how many times I've read this...

The Cobra Effect by slrandomperson | 6.9k words | THIS ONEEE everyone knows this one everyone loves this one. This fic invented the ‘what if Eli DIDN’T break dem’s arm’ trope imo. This fic walked so others could run. Still the best of its kind.

Spoilers for My Valentine by Asphodelia ( @asphodel-storm) | 11.9k words | If you are going to read any fic, READ THIS ONE! Takes place around s3, but Demetri does his best to not only snap Eli out of his red-Hawk evil phase but also woo him by reminding him (and spoiling) of all the nerd shit he likes. It is as good as it sounds. I go back to this one ALL the time.

I don’t care what you call me (as long as you call me) by Anonymous | 4.2k words | I’ll say this for multiple fics, but this is my favorite hawkmetri fic. It’s so fun and fluffy and SO THEM. basically eli is like call me whatever and demetri finds the perfect opportunity to do something very funny and also some wooing.

this is our get along shirt by Anonymous | 3.8k words | Listen maybe I just like fics where Demetri successfully turns Eli back to the light side simply by reminding him of the good in the things he used to hate about himself/his life. In this fic, circa s3, Demetri wears all of the old clothes Eli left at his house to get his attention. Eli gets PISSED. It is everything to me.

One Of The Finer Things in Life by Ithinkwehaveanemergency | 4k words | Eli basically being like “oh no he’s hot” after seeing Demetri shirtless. Fluffy and also hot and so well written. As always, this author captures them perfectly. It’s funny and it’s cute and I love it.

And I Will Not Fall Hard This Time by Ithinkwehaveanemergency | 12.7k words | Another one from this author!! Essentially, Eli and Dem become friends with benefits in college and don’t think that will end poorly for them at all. Note: If you don’t like NSFW, this one is not for you, but i personally love a little spice when it’s well done. Everything about this fic makes my heart hurt. Like they’re so gone for each other but they SUCK AT COMMUNICATING. I’ve read this one so many times too. So many kisses for this fic. Like it has a chokehold on me I can’t explain

Always Thinking I Could Love You More by Ithinkwehaveanemergency | 6.5 words | Listen if you know me you know I love a fic that centers around Hawk’s hair. Essentially Hawk dyes his hair and Demetri is STARING. Bestie Yasmine is here to meddle. (can you tell i really like this author?)

lavender haze by youngervolcano | 3.1k words | This one is light and FUNNY. Classic everyone thinks they’re dating but them. Very cute quick read.

andisol by samemoon ( @carmendiazbian) | 25k (incomplete) | Don’t get me started on this one!!! The way my heart HURT reading it!!! Takes canon and changes it a little, but essentially a deeper look at Eli after s3, slowly mending Demetri and Eli’s relationship, and a look at how they got where they are now. I need to reread this one again because it is just one of the most well-written hawkmetri fics I’ve come across. It’s not completed, but I assure you it is still worth the read.

Who You Are Inside by Asphodelia ( @asphodel-storm) | 4.9k words | I just think this one is neat! ‘His Dark Materials’ AU with daemons - I know absolutely nothing about that world, yet I still really liked this! Follows canon but with animal companions that are actually your soul/their shape reflects your soul. Childhood Eli and Demetri and falling back together with a dash of a soulmate trope. So fun if you love a tad of a fantasy element!!

Second Chances by Asphodelia ( @asphodel-storm) | 31k words | Is this one realistic in the slightest? No! But I loved it! Essentially this is what would happen if Pre S1 Eli swapped bodies with S3 Eli. Has some really strong parts and the premise is so silly but endearing that I love coming back to it. Good characterization too! Again, a nod to anyone who loves a little fantasy (another Asphodelia fic!)

Or you could read one of my fics if you feel so inclined.

Be sure to check ratings and warnings! Only read what you like!

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leoruby-draws · 9 months ago

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Decided to post some more random, mostly minor characters from the DC universe, mostly ones that seemed they would be fun to draw. I guess technically these drawings are all based in my TrWh au, as always. Here they are:

Wanted to draw heroes with wings, I draw Vanessa quite a bit so I had to learn wings and feathers. Still working on it, but its fun. You can see Vanessa there at the bottom middle, looking a little menacing.

The girl with red wings is called...Redwing aka Carrie Levine. I thought she was a sweet kid, so her ultimate fate was pretty sad. Wonder if she'll come back to continuity at some point.

The guy with the mohawk is Northwind aka Norda Cantrell, part of Infinity Inc the earth 2 version of a Teen Titans group. He honestly didn't get a whole lot of focus in Infinity Inc, like the writer didn't know what to do with him. Maybe they should've made him into the magic fighter of the group, almost felt like thats what they were going for him before they wrote him off.

The girl in yellow is Dawnstar, part of the Legion of Superheroes. I haven't read much of LoSH, mostly some 90's issues. But her design is soooo pretty I had to draw her, her costume here is a mix of her various outfits.

Lastly, here's Bluejay aka Jay Abrams again, part of Justice League Europe. Kinda thought JLE was a bit of a letdown, I mean the team's made up of mostly americans not europeans! I think Crimson Fox was the only european, I thought her set-up of being two people was cool.

Little extra Infinity doodle, here's Hector Hall (Silver Scarab) hating on poor Norda, with Lyta Trevor (Fury) looking on with confusion. Hector's just a hater (tho there's reasons for it ig), an archetype you see sometimes in some superhero groups, like Roy Harper or Guy Gardner. The plot-line of Hector's resentment of Norda was kinda interesting, but like with most things in Infinity it didn't get the focus it should've gotten. Speaking of Infinity, here's some more doodles:

There's Rex Tyler (Hourman 1) with little Rick Tyler (Hourman 2), enjoying some father-son time. Apparently Rick's first costume isn't well liked (so says reddit). I thought it seemed cute but maybe it works better as a kid's or sidekick's kinda costume?

In the middle is Jack Knight (Starman) suffering as he interacts with Sylvester Pemberton (Skyman, formerly the Star-Spangled Kid) and Courtney Whitmore (Stargirl, actually she should still be S-SK but whatever). In my au he actually joins Infinity Inc, since everyone becomes heroes earlier he's actually around when the team's still running. I suspect his dad (Ted Knight) forced him into it. Also Courtney doesn't respect Jack at all, he's so annoyed at this. Look at her mini-staff, I presume Ted made it for her.

Also there's Beth Chapel (Dr. Mid-Nite) and Jesse Chambers (Jesse Quick) looking cool. Jesse also joins Infinity Inc in my au, will there be a love triangle going on between Beth, Rick and Jesse? Don't think Rick's gonna survive that, aw well.

Look at baby Jade and Obsidian, Alan is overwhelmed by their antics.

In another post someone asked if I could draw more of the Relative Heroes, a super obscure hero group. So @draculaura1660, this one's for you. Here they are:

I kinda had a hard time drawing this group, cuz their costumes are so complicated! I wished there was a reference/concept art for them cuz it was a struggle trying to figure out the details, the comic art did not help matters at all. You might have noticed I changed details anyways, I tend to simplify costumes for my au both to make it easier to draw and also to signify their younger ages. It's just fun to play around with costume design ig.

Some more characters!

Jinx, who looks very different between her comic and cartoon self. I did like her pink hair, so decide to see how it would look on her comic self. There's Kole, who also has different designs in comic/cartoons. I think her comic costume is so cool, esp that color pallet! But I love her pink hair in the cartoon, so she's got pink hair here! Just like pink hair a lot lol.

The other pink haired girl is Laethwen, love interest of Ray Palmer in Sword of the Atom. I think I made her hair more pink to better differentiate her from Starfire, also, again I just like pink hair. I wished she and her little kingdom didn't die, in my au Ray saves them! Maybe he relocates them to his backyard or something?

Little Donna and Vanessa doodle, did you know they never once interacted on panel? The closest is when Donna brings her stepsister Cindy to talk to Vanessa instead. I wonder how they would even interact, I know Vanessa wanted to be wonder girl (and resented Cassie for 'taking' it from her). Did she look up to Donna, or wanted her out of the way? Funnily enough Donna wasn't even Diana's sidekick when post-crisis started, due to both their origins being reworked and contradicting each other's timelines. It's all very confusing.

Anyways, some bonus doodles:

Had fun making a new outfit for Laethwen, I imagine she took some inspiration from indigenous groups from the Amazon, seeing as that's where her people crashed into.

Kole's costume is just so beautiful but so complicated, maybe that's why she got killed off so soon in Crisis on Infinite Earths.

Lastly, here's Bette bugging Dick with Barbara being super amused about it. I said in my post about her that I didn't really care about her crush on Robin, which is true, but I still wanted to doodle something making fun of it. Poor Dick is doesn't know how to get outta of this social situation.

Well that was a lot, hope you liked all that.

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thedovesaredying · 1 year ago

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CoD Western AU, but make it Fantasy!

A Western AU, but with everything a little more fantastical! Your typical western setting, but with magic and monsters, starring your favourite Call of Duty lads.

There's terrifying monsters and fantasy creatures roaming the wild west, completely unchecked. The only thing standing between the innocent people of your town and these beasts, is a group of gunslingers known as the One-Four-One.

Their group is headed up by their leader, John Price, a man who thought he could make a deal with the devil without consequences. Unfortunately for Price, the cost of his deal was a pair of demon horns and a pointy tail.

He's got a silver tongue and the eyes of a snake, luring you in with his suave grin and tempting offers.

His protégé is a young witch named Kyle Garrick.

Most underestimate him due to his young age and often think he can't possibly be that powerful. Typically, that's the last mistake they'll make.

He's handsome and not what most would picture when they imagine a witch. Originally, he was very cautious with his magic, but under the guidance of Price, has since began to dabble in the darker side of witchcraft.

Kyle would be more than happy to try out some of his charms on you.

John MacTavish, is a mythical creature that joined the team as a package deal with his partner, Simon Riley. He's a unicorn originating from Scotland.

His coat is entirely brown, complete with a shaggy mane and a lengthy tail with a tuft of fur at the end. He has a pair of white socks and a star in the center of his forehead. His white horn is surprisinly sharp, capable of slicing through flesh with relative ease.

He's capable of taking a mostly human form, with only his legs and feet showing a horse's features, with hooves and a soft layer of brunet fur from the top of his hips down. He retains his tail, but can make his horn disappear.

If the hooves and tail weren't enough to give him away, the Mohawk-like style of his hair definitely would be. He'll definitely encourage you to scratch at his mane in either form.

Simon Riley is the only regular human on the team. He has no magic, no special abilities. He's just a man, built like a brickhouse and with a knack for taking lives.

He met Johnny as a child after running away from home to try and escape his father's wrath. The baby unicorn was drawn in by his terrified emotions and mental anguish, and the two were quick to form a bond. Their souls are bound together permanently and, should one die, the other would likely struggle to survive the pain of their bond being broken.

Most people assume Ghost must be some kind of ghoul or phantom, automatically assuming he's the scariest of the bunch.

He doesn't discuss his past often, but perhaps if you get close with Johnny he'll let his guard down a little.

#writing #call of duty modern warfare #reader insert #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish x you #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #captain john price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle gaz garrick x reader #simon ghost riley x you #western au #fantasy au

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what-ails-you · 1 year ago

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I know we have the Batman vs TMNT furry designs for these two BUT... i wanted to try my hand at my own oncepts.

Joker is a Hyena, because:

Laughter

Mohawk is fitting

SPOTS CAN BE HEARTS, SPADES, CLUBS & DIAMONDS !!!

Bruce is a (silver) fox because:

Flying Fox is a type of bat.

this is just a quick concept sketch of my idea :3 may change it once i get around to maybe making proper refs of them...

#batjokes #my art #the joker #batman #bruce wayne #joker #furry #gay #mlm

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multistanisms · 10 months ago

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Moving Day || Shadowhunters

FANDOM: Shadowhunters

PAIRING: Alec x Magnus

WORD COUNT: 784

RATING: PG

POTENTIAL TRIGGERS: N/A

SUMMARY: What would become the true love story of their lives began the day Alec and Magnus met - moving day before the new semester at the New York Institute campus.

TAGLIST: @no1likemybbgcharlie

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Freshman year for his sister meant that Alec was expecting a new roommate. The roommate he'd had the last two years - a fairly handsome man named Underhill - had graduated early and left Alec feeling oddly lonely despite not being very social. He supposed it helped that Underhill had been like him, but hadn't pushed for a relationship or anything. The male was a really good friend to Alec, like an older brother, so now a sophomore, Alec was hoping he could be as helpful to whomever walked in the door as his new roommate. Isabelle, darling sister that she was, kept insisting she would be his roommate, but Alec knew the odds were unlikely. The university tried to make siblings grow on their own and believed that pairing them up would hinder that. So he wasn't at all surprised when he got a call from an irritated Isabelle, which lasted until she discovered her roommate was a freshman named Clary, and Alec could hear the friendship develop instantly over the phone. He had laughed and promised he would help her unpack as soon as his own roommate arrived, and his baby sister was quick to hang up.

He went to make himself some tea, setting it down before picking up his Gibson TG-1, his favorite acoustic for the rich sound, and began fiddling with tuning it so he could work on a new video. He was tuning his guitar when there was a knock on the door. Carefully setting the instrument on the couch next to him, Alec stood and moved to open the door -

And had to catch his breath.

The man standing on the other side of the door was just a few inches shorter than him, with caramel skin, dark eyes accented by a blue glittery eyeshadow, hair done in a mohawk while a black and silver messenger bag hung across his body. It was beautiful and intriguing and Alec was sure his heart had stopped until the man spoke.

“Hello. I'm sorry if I interrupted anything.” the male finally greeted, having been momentarily stunned himself at the contrast of dark hair, blue eyes and pale skin.

Alec snapped from his reverie at the sound, and the music major wanted to faint because no voice should sound that damn good. “Not at all. You didn't have to knock, though. I thought the admin office still gave out keys?” He replied inquisitively, stepping aside to let the other inside.

“Yeah, well, my last uni was, uhm...active. A lot. Or at least my loftmates were.” The roommate said as he set his bag down behind the couch, turning to look at Alec and offer his hand. “I'm Magnus, by the way. Transferred in from PCA in France.”

“France?” Alec asked before a faint blush colored his cheeks and he shook Magnus’ hand. “Oh, uh, I'm Alec.”

“Oui.” Magnus said with a grin. “I was there to get an adventure. When I finished most of my courses, I decided to come back to the States.” he explained. “The dorms here are quite large.”

“Large and soundproof.” ALec agreed. “Unless the students in this hall are just not getting any.” He crossed his arms a little and laughed with Magnus, looking around. “Uh, do you want a quick tour?”

“Sure,” Dark eyes returned to Alec from where he’d been looking at the guitar propped on the couch. He followed Alec around the couch and to the kitchen area.

“So the kitchen we have to keep stocked. My sister and I split our tips from work and keep each other fed, but our father sends money once a month out of some obligation his friends have guilted him into. Our mom sends care packages, so if there’s something you’d like, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind adding it.” he shrugged, pointing to their right as they faced the living area. “Laundry room and guest bathroom are that way, our rooms are on the other side.” He explained, leading the way. “Both of us have our own bathrooms, walk in closets, and the office area is the one at the end of the hall.” he pointed at the doors across from each other and then the one at the end of the hall as he spoke.

“The university pays to furnish all this?” Magnus inquired, sounding impressed.

“Most of it. If you decide to get your own furniture, you can have campus officials pull out the originals. It’s what I did.” Alec answered, smiling. “Do you need help with your stuff?”

Magnus gave a smile and nodded as he went to set his bag in the bed in his room. “That would be great, Alec. Thank you.”

#my fics #making a fantasy��a beautiful galaxy ✾ my fics #shadowhunters fanfic #shadowhunters fanfiction #college dorm series #Malec #Magnus x Alec

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mskwtz · 7 months ago

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Quick verse rundown:

CK MOLE AU. Hawk "turning on" Cobra Kai at the end of season 3 was an act. Truthfully, he's working as a spy for Kreese to get intel on the enemy. He's still fully in his "I'm Cobra Kai for life" mentality, and just playing an act. He remains loyal to cobra kai, even through the switch over to Silver.

SKY HIGH. Hawk is a boy with a gift - he can control people's minds. He attends Sky High / Sky University and is labeled as a hero. This verse is heavily affiliated with Tessa's freeze girl @freezegirl and my own Warren at @ghoulsplay.

DESCENDANTS. Eli Kingsley, son of Alice Kingsley (Alice in Wonderland), is an Auradon boy with a curious mind and adventerous spirit. With a bright blue mohawk, he's always getting himself into trouble.

FEAR STREET 1978. Hawk is a Sunnyvale camper at Camp Nightwing in his last year as a camper. He often gets himself into trouble, acting out and doing things he shouldn't. He hates Sunnyvale and his peers / town, and isn't afraid to make it known.

FEAR STREET 1994. Hawk is a Sunnyvaler who isn't about the ongoing rivalry between the towns, and often does his own thing separate from Sunnyvale.

STRANGER THINGS. Hawk's a teenager just trying to get through high school, which is easier said than done in Hawkins, IN. Formerly a loser, he changed, turning to karate and new friends to make a better life for himself. But "cooler" isn't always better, and mixed in with the bizarre things that happen in their town, he walks away with more regrets than ever. His best friend dies in the ‘Starcourt Mall Fire’ during a time when they were on bad terms and he’s living with that guilt every day. Of late, things have been getting out of control, with migraines that won’t quit, nose bleeds, and hallucinations.

TEEN WOLF. Blissfully ( or stupidly ) human, Hawk ends up getting wrapped up in the supernatural happenings of Beacon Hills when he stumbles on a sight he was not meant to see.

SCREAM. Living in Woodsboro, CA, it's best to shut up, mind your own business, and hope you don't become Ghostface's next victim. Hawk hadn't been that great at minding his business, though, and he's paying for it. Note: this verse has a ghost face hawk alternative version.

IT. Being a kid in Derry, Maine is like a death wish, and Eli Moskowitz is observant enough to tell that's the case. He's 13 in 1989 when children his age keep disappearing.

POWER RANGERS. I have several different power rangers universes for Hawk, which I will elaborate on but he is a power ranger (the purple ranger in most verses). Most of these are heavily affiliated with @taughtdamage and @taughtpain

VERSE ONE: After the school fight at West Valley, Hawk's parents move them, wanting to get away from the violence their son had been dragged into. Unbeknownst to them, things were about to get even crazier as Hawk finds a purple power coin and becomes the newest power ranger.

VERSE TWO: Amidst the karate war craziness, a group of the kids stumble upon power coins and become super heroes, responsible for protecting the Valley.

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER. Upon finding out his sister, Tory, is the vampire slayer, Hawk is determined to help out whenever he can. He's like a makeshift slayer of his own if you ask him ( he'd be incorrect ). Affiliated with @queencvbra

MEDIUM VERSE. Having survived a near death experience as a child was traumatic enough, but coming out of it with the ability of seeing and communicating with ghosts was another thing altogether. Hawk tries for a long time to pretend this is not a gift he possesses, but with time and age he begins to come to terms with it and tries his best to help those he comes across.

#verse roundup.#will make in depth posts #yes of course his ass is in danger of getting vecna’d

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shatteredsoul60 · 11 months ago

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IT'S FINALLY FINISHED! MY JJK OC DRAWING - I FINALLY FOUND THE MOTIVATION TO ACTUALLY FINISH IT!

Here they are! Kuzuryu Spirit!

INFO ABOUT KUZURYU!

Kuzuryu is a cursed anthropomorphic Dragon Kitsune, she is 5'4 in height. She has white fur with dark red markings that fade into light red, black antlers with wooden talismans hanging from them. She had two different colored eyes, her left being silver and her right being red wine color. She has whiskers on her snout just like Chinsea Dragons, She is quite fluffy since she is part kitsune, The markings are like Kitsune markings. She has a long tail that has fur on it, quite soft. Kuzuryu has a fluffy Mohawk. She is a special grade curse. She has a little spirit fox that is always found lurking around. She is quite quick and deadly, its best to be on her best side if you don't want your face to be ripped off. She has three forms, her normal anthro form. Second form is a horse sized Dragon Kitsune and her truly cursed from, a massive dragon Kitsune that had 9 tails and Kitsune spirits could be seen floating around her, she is about 25'4 in height.

Now you might be wondering, how'd they become like this?

Well, Kuzuryu was kidnapped by a sorcerer, Who uses jujutsu in the evil way. (I forgot what it was called). They had captured Kuzuryu while they were still being taught about sorcerers and cursed energy, Kuzuryu was classmates with Gojo and Geto. That is beside the point-!

Kuzuryu was forced to be combined/swallow cursed objects. Almost like Sukuna fingers! The cursed objects are from a dragon spirit guardian and a Kitsune spirit guardian. As the transformation started to take place, it was painful for Kuzuryu, when they were found by other sorcerers from Jujutsu Tech, they had it hide Kuzuryu in quarantine for a long while, the pain as the antlers grew from their head was painful, they cried for hours and days. Kuzuryu slowly had to readjust to their new form, learn how to walk, eat, drink and balance cause of their new tail, ears, so on and so forth.

Rest I'm too lazy to say, but maybe in the future I'll make an actual story post about it!

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk oc #jjk ocs #jujutsu kaisen oc #jujutsu kaisen art

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definitelynotgideon · 1 year ago

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This is a Genya Shinazugawa x OC (Gideon Azulyss) MLM Fic 🏳️‍🌈

A/N: I'm back with some mild angst!!! mwahaha!! Also one of y'alls favorite guys is in this one, I hope I did okay with him!

CW: Anime Spoilers!! Shinazugawa backstory.

Word Count: 2,550

The Demons We Face | Chapter 14, Far Away

Preview:

“Listen to me, Gideon. If you care for Genya like you say you do… Convince him to leave the corps with you. Get the fuck out of the corps, get him the fuck out of here.”

Gideon is shocked, his eyes full of surprise on Sanemi's form. “...Why?”

“I don't have to justify my demands. Just do as I say.”

“...No.”

Sanemi's eyes flashed angrily. “Did you just defy a Hashira?”

It's peaceful.

Out on the engawa, where Gideon did his best thinking. His safe place, where there weren't many flowers to attract the butterflies nearby, where he could gaze out across the open field to the treeline of wisteria. He'd invited Genya to sit here in this space with him.

Genya could see why the silver haired boy liked it over here. The grassy fields ahead, tickled by the breeze, reminded Genya of the lighter greens within Gideon’s eyes when the sun hit them just right.

Similarly, as Gideon stared out to the flowering trees, the lighter purples reminded him occasionally of the rarer hues of Genya's eyes…

Gideon sat first, carefully setting his cup down on the opposite side of Genya. The mohawked boy sat next, and Gideon invited him closer to lean on him. They are quiet for a few moments, watching the morning sun spread over more and more of the field as it rises.

“The sunsets at night are really beautiful over here,” Gideon explains. “Sometimes, I'd sit until the deeper purples and blues settled into the sky, and the stars came out. I knew you were on a mission… so…” he blushed sheepishly.

“I'd think of you maybe also looking up at the stars as you ventured out. It gave me comfort, in a way.”

Genya blushed too, but he gave Gideon a smile. “That's… really sweet. I did stargaze at times while I was out. When I was preparing to patrol for the nights, I'd think of you… comfortable and serene, asleep in a safe place.”

Gideon’s heart swelled. He rested his head on Genya's shoulder with a relaxed exhale. “I missed you.”

Genya rested his cheek against Gideon’s head. “I missed you too.”

They sat, cuddled up together and facing away from the door. Little did they know, however, that someone had seen them.

The morning passed. Breakfast was had, Genya was taken in by the caterpillars for a checkup and Gideon wandered back outside only to be met by a crow…

Untying a message tethered to his leg, Gideon offered the crow a treat before it dutifully flew off.

He read the note:

‘To the silver haired one I saw this morning-

Meet me in the training hollow as soon as you get this. Come alone.

Sanemi Shinazugawa.’

A prickle of dread went through Gideon. S-Sanemi? As in, Genya's brother? He saw him this morning- probably cuddling Genya. And this… relationship of theirs is so new, and by societal standards unconventional… was he angry?

But if he was, why not just interrupt earlier? Why wait?

But Gideon couldn't simply disobey. Not a Hashira. Not Genya's older brother… so he made his way over after going back to his room, leaving the note on the desk and grabbing his hammer.

He made his way to the training hollow, and found Sanemi pretty easily. The Wind Hashira was doing some stretches, pre-training. He planned to make this conversation with this… guy quick.

He didn't face Gideon but addressed him right away as he stepped closer. “What the fuck are you doing with Genya?” He asked, a definite bite in his words.

Gideon froze. He chose his next words to the best of his nervous ability.

“...We… like each other. Romantically.”

Gideon refused to stand in a small way, even as Sanemi flashed the most maliced look towards him, his anger dominating the air of the hollow. “You… what?”

“Genya and I are together.” He said. He tried so hard not to allow his voice to waver.

Sanemi got to his feet and looked to Gideon, who was (despite being scared out of his mind) standing rather tall and not taking anything back.

Sanemi has always sort of pictured Genya picking out a pretty little wife later, having children, growing into a wiry old man… all after the demons were wiped out, or while Sanemi could protect him from them. He was confident that they could defeat or manage the demons, so… his pipe dream wasn't outlandish. But… Genya dating a man?

He blinked, his raging eyes going to the ground. He … chuckled. Unnervingly.

“Well kid. I do admire your courage.” He said, crossing his arms. “I'm not angry that you and Genya are dating. In fact… I think it's great.”

“You… do?”

“Mhmm. Tell me. How much do you care for him?”

“Enough to give my life for him. Enough to face you like this. I know you're his older brother, even if you've not called him that yet to my face.”

“... Watch it. You're on thin ice, hammer-head.”

Sanemi walks closer to Gideon. “Listen to me- what's your name?”

“Gideon.”

“Listen to me, Gideon. If you care for Genya like you say you do… Convince him to leave the corps with you. Get the fuck out of the corps, get him the fuck out of here.”

Gideon is shocked, his eyes full of surprise on Sanemi's form. “...Why?”

“I don't have to justify my demands. Just do as I say.”

“...No.”

Sanemi's eyes flashed angrily. “Did you just defy a Hashira?”

“You're trying to get rid of corps members when the demon slayer corps can use all of the strength it can get. Don't come at me with rules when you're trying to break some yourself.”

“You little fucking brat. If you weren't something Genya seems to care for I'd pummel you right fucking now-”

“Genya has worked hard to be here. He's an amazing fighter even if his katana never changed color. I won't take all of that progress from him by asking him to run away with me… it'd be incredibly selfish.”

It was true that Gideon didn't necessarily know Genya's motives for being here, but he'd defend his interests nonetheless.

Sanemi gets into Gideon’s face “Genya will die if he stays here! He can't even use breaths! Do you want your lover to die? Maybe even right in front of you?!”

Gideon doesn't back down, but the last statement does strike him. “...You have… so little faith in your brother. It breaks my heart…” Gideon’s face is soft, and he gazes on with pity.

Sanemi spits furiously. “And you don't love him. If you did, you'd fucking listen to me!”

Sanemi storms out of the hollow before he reacts violently. Fucking brat just doesn't understand how much he just wants his brother to be safe…

Gideon remained for a moment, trying to process all that had just happened. He clutched the space over his heart.

He hadn't known Genya for very long, so he really wasn't sure what the feeling blooming inside of him was. Was… was it true? Did he not love him, because he was missing something critical? Was the slowly blossoming core of his thoughts not, in fact, where love started?

He wished he could have talked with Sanemi more. He wished that he could have… just tried to figure out why. But now his mind was drowning in Sanemi's words.

Gideon then did what he usually tried to do when stressed. He took a walk. And a couple of hours passed.

Meanwhile… Genya had grown concerned. He couldn't find Gideon around the mansion, and when he had gone to his room to check for him… he saw the note.

From his brother. Directed towards Gideon.

But by the time Genya had made his way to the training hollow, both of them were gone. He'd missed Gideon by ten minutes.

Why did his brother want to talk to him? What did they do, what did they talk about? He… he saw them together. He was that close and yet Genya missed him. Missed a chance to apologize, perhaps even two chances… he held himself as tears trickled down his face. The situation was shitty.

Sanemi potentially knowing about his relationship also added an element of anxiety. He didn't know how his older brother would react to him dating in general, much less a man.

Genya stayed in the hollow for a good forty minutes, and as the sun blazed high in the sky, he made his way back to the mansion.

Gideon will come back. He promised me he wouldn't skip meals. He's gotta come back for lunch.

Gideon did come back, just in time to get lunch before it was cleaned up. Genya had waited for him in the dining area and nearly knocked the table over standing up when he saw him.

He rushed up to hold him, and Gideon held him as well but… a bit weakly.

“I was so worried, I… I didn't know where you went, I saw the note-” Genya pulled him out so he could look him in his eyes and cup his face with both hands. Gideon reached up to hold Genya's hands gently.

“I'm so sorry, I… I didn't mean to make you worry. I took a walk.”

Something was off and Genya knew it. Just in the way he spoke. In the way he touched. “What happened?”

Gideon seemed so far away. His eyes refocus, looking into Genya's and he shook his head a little, trying to smile.

“S-sorry- I… I feel like I just have a lot on my mind.”

Genya still looked at him worriedly. Anxiety courses through him.

Gideon shifted his head to kiss his palm. “...I know you want me to eat. Um… I'm just not hungry though. I'll take a roll with me. But can we talk? Please?”

Genya nods. Gideon asking in such a way doesn't ease his anxiety but… at least he will be let in. “Lets go to my room,” he offers, taking him by the hand, lacing their fingers.

The action just… gets Gideon. He doesn't know why. He nods, clutching Genya's hand as he swallows a lump in his throat.

‘You don't love him…’ ’

The words are haunting. They stung and felt untrue… but was Gideon causing harm unintentionally? Did he do the right thing? He really wasn't sure.

Genya opens the door to his room and Gideon looks around. The air is fresh here, Genya's bonsai's sitting on a table near the light of the window.

Genya pulls him in gently and shuts the door. “My trees will keep your secrets, don't worry.” He smiles at him, trying not to show how incredibly anxious he was. He invites Gideon to sit but he shakes his head. He, too, is anxious, so he opts to stand.

Genya sits on his bed and faces him, eyes full of concern, worry… and Gideon blinks trying to figure out how to ask his questions while not … saying something Ill-willed against Sanemi.

Perhaps if he's just… honest. About the whole Interaction. What was said… how he was feeling. But he'd have to bring up the L word.

“...Your brother knows we are seeing each other. He asked me and I told him straight up. I think he handled it well. It certainly could have been worse but… I'm sorry if you didn't want him to know. Um…”

He looks to Genya with very full eyes. “I stood up for you. He… wants you to leave the corps. But I didn't know exactly why you wanted to be a demon slayer in the first place. I told him that you've worked hard to be here…”

Gideon blinks and takes a breath. “I know it's an odd time to ask this. But why did you join? And .. why did you stay?”

Genya is silent for a moment. It was odd that he was asking this. He sensed that there was a puzzle piece not quite out yet; Gideon wasn't telling him everything.

“I joined so that I could become a Hashira, be acknowledged by my brother, and…” he clutches his bed sheets.

“And apologize to him. I… I did something terrible to him. That's why I'm here, I need to apologize… I… I love my brother. He needs to know…”

Genya's eyes run with tears and he sniffles. “Did… did he tell you? Is that why you're acting differently?”

Gideon's heart broke a little.”No, no of course not!” He immediately moved in to hold Genya close. He had no idea he'd been so far off and not giving him a normal amount of affection.

“Sanemi didn't tell me anything specific. I get the sense that he wasn't saying everything to me.” he looks into Genya's eyes. He's dying to ask him what he feels he needs to apologize for, what is hurting him so deeply right now… but the answer comes up.

“I called him a murderer… he- he had to do it… I know that now. But- I… when we were kids I… I just saw Mom, dead, and I was in so much shock…” he buries his face into Gideon’s uniform and sobs. “She'd been turned into a demon, h-he had to…!! She k-killed all of my other siblings… he… he did it to… s-save me and I called him a murderer!!”

Gideon reaches to pet through Genya's hair. It was a lot of information to process.

“You couldn't have known… you were just a kid. So was he… You're right, he did what he had to. You did what you could… it's an impossible scenario to fathom. Something you should have never experienced. Genya… I'm so sorry.”

Holding him gently and allowing him to cry, it sort of made sense to him now. Sanemi… he still could have been hurting from the extreme loss. Processing it all much differently than Genya. And Gideon may be wrong because he's closer to Genya, and doesn't know Sanemi well… but his words and actions today seemed like a frustrated older brother, just wanting to protect his younger brother.

As Gideon thought about Sanemi's demand, of Gideon leaving the corps and taking Genya with him… he knew the only way Genya would even relatively entertain that is if he got to apologize and reconcile with Sanemi. And it didn't seem like Sanemi was in a place to do that.

He felt Genya's sobs ease over time. He stood between his legs holding him close and rhythmically stroking his back.

As he settled more and more, Gideon pressed kisses into the top of his head, down to his cheeks as he carefully wiped remaining tears.

“I'm sorry that I was a little distant earlier, baby. I didn't mean to make you anxious. I wasn't even aware I was doing that.”

He carefully knelt before him, taking his hands into his. “I know this is new for both of us. I want you to know that I'll always try to put your interests at the forefront. You're so incredibly important to me, and I adore you. You're safe with me. And I'll encourage you in whatever you want to do. I'll be right by your side.”

Genya sniffles and nods, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Gideon takes the hand still in his hold and gives him small kisses on his knuckles.

Genya blinks and gazes down to him. “Why were you so… far away earlier? Can you tell me?”

Gideon blushes as he looks up to Genya. He clutches Genyas hand… he still had a lot of uncertainty but… he wanted to be honest with him.

“...I think I might love you.”

#gideon azulyss #genya shinazugawa #genya x oc #demonslayer oc #kny oc #kny #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #fanfic #ao3 #kny fandom #kny genya #oc x canon #genya x gideon #kny gforce #sanemi shinazugawa

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the-firebird69 · 1 year ago

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Here we have it this is what it is it is a Renault captor. And now that has meaning and it's a French car and Queen Elizabeth has been captured and she's been captured by the morlock Mac thinks it will work to get her out. And he's trying to grab our son to get her out and get everything else and he's another kidnapped bag f**** but really this is what he wants to do and the more luck think it's they think it's a good idea it calls out from them to grab the higher ups and they want to now to go after the pseudo empire fleet

We're going to publish now cuz that pretty much says it all

Thor Freya

Been a few other things to add it's a nice looking car hers is silverish and black mostly black with silver accent and black sucks here but you turn the AC on I guess full blast everybody has to it's terrible and he's wondering if you can put that white film on if it's guaranteed not to mess up your paint people say it's not a bad idea there's a few other things to do that we have going on but this is one that's up in the forefront. Matt wants them to move around a little the sitting still is a problem he says it and he was moving around before and they lost it and the warlock I think if he moves around again they can get it them to lose it again

Hera

We think they'll both lose it

Chao phat

It's very tiring and we know you're on medicine have you seen it and it's terrible these people are very mean but but you say you'll get sleep in those too much but it can't be huge so we get that me too dangerous and yeah you're going to be huge you're a big boy and yeah you know he is what's funny is what would I look like oh my God smaller than the guy next to the abomination in the hulk lawyer movie or show this is horrible he's going to be so ridiculous hey as far as life anyways this is the car and it would not be the bronco yet or Blazer that is because it goes in order with a mohawk are going after the pseudo empire and really it looks decent

Sandy wong

Yeah wrong Wong and I'll tell you what this car is perfect it means regular people too it says how so it says the queen is a captor what does that mean it means the queen is going to Captain capture him oh that's the code he says it's not really a queen but they're calling themselves empress and emperor it seems to be about Titan and that would be pretty quick

Bja

I don't think this is nice we'll find it all

Mac daddy

We doing what to say we do know what to say she's the leader of the women's thing so but still she got to put there because of that and he didn't say it the car is going to heat it up and there's a way that they want to get here and the max want it because of the Empress

Ellie

It is because of me and it is important and it's going to happen soon I have to tell you it's going to go on really soon and he says this period of a month and a half is going to be blindingly different changes happening and it's true too it's way up there in Montreal and it's really quite fun far it's really a Ronald be Rudy moves only three blocks from where they were and it's near downtown Montreal Lily knows all about it and it's too cars one of them is the renauts and the other the VW and that's not true. Each one has a his and her and those two Reynolds one of them is mine so Lily wants one of the results. It's a nice little car and zippy you can't tell much with it but this car works so I'd like to see it happen so I can fight Lily over the car constantly

Hera

Olympus

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zeroheritageposts · 2 years ago

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HERITAGE BLOGS MASTER-LIST!

because why not, I already made a quick recap of the incident, so...

Shadow - Relaxing during the calm after the storm, with his dear chao "Kurai," and his boyfriend Flower.

@shadowheritageposts

@lancelotshadowheritageposts

Lancelot (Lance) - Slowly adapting to this new world full of advanced and mysterious tech.

@mephiles-heritage-posts

Mephiles - Moving pieces, plotting things, slowly, but surely, plotting devious deeds with Super.

@zeroheritageposts

Infinite (Finn) - Hanging out in his own, trying to relax after having a crisis over his very identity.

@gadgetheritageposts

Gadget - Hanging inside the base Finn left him with Starline and Zonic.

@silver-heritage-postz

Silver - Trying to take better care of himself, after the threat of the metal virus seemingly vanished.

@werehog-sonicheritageposts

Sonic (Wolf/Flower)

[past] Exploring a hidden lab in little planet with Gumi.

[present] Hanging out with his boyfriend, Shadow, just really happy to be with him.

@sonic-exe-heritageposts

Sonic (Ephialtes/Needle) - Plotting his own thing, he wants to play a game, and the world is his playground.

@evilknucklesofficial

Buckles (Knux) - Guarding the world from the danger in his islands.

@heritage-metal-sonic

Metal (Diamond) - Trying to discover who he is, and what it means to be Sonic.

@void-the-coyote

_____ (Void) - seemingly deactivated, he no longer serves a purpose for Starline as of now.

@arjan-the-sonic

Arjan - Exploring the voids, trying to find... something, he is currently missing.

@renard-the-foxbot

Renard - waiting orders from any member of the Kitsune Council.

@tails-heritage-post

Miles "Tails" Prower (Yokai) - involved in different shenanigans

@heritage-tails-posts

Miles Prower - A lone young scientist constantly running away from his bullies in West-Side Island.

Dr. K. Jules Blitz - Mad scientist plotting things from within a hidden lab, jumping across timelines.

@rough-n-tumbleheritageposts

Rough and Tumble - lurking around, waiting to see who wants to hire them, or fooling around.

@creamheritageposts

Cream - Trying to live peacefully with her Chao, hoping to see her mother again.

@espioheritageposts

Espio - Training and doing as per usual, although lacking his family; the Chaotix

@blaze-heritage-posts

Blaze - Hanging out with Maimy after getting involved with the shenanigans of this world.

@excalibursonicheritageposts

Sonic (Arthur) - Hanging around, trying to connect back with a world he once belonged to, but does he still belong?

@megpoidgumiheritageposts

Gumi

[past] Exploring a hidden lab in little planet with Wolf.

[present] Chilling with her girlfriend

@zonicheritageposts

Zonic - In the base where he, Starline, and Finn, were. Recovering from a crisis.

@butterfly-reaper-lily

Lily - Looking around for the missing young deity of life.

@mirror-queen-snow

Snow - Lurking from within the dark, perhaps, involved in some shenanigans herself.

@nova-the-shadow

Nova - Trapped in a repeating nightmare from which he cannot wake up.

@rouge-heritage-posts

Rouge - Hanging around, having a lot of time off given that G.U.N. is gone.

@baba-is-heritage

[Baba] is [showed up] and [nothing else so far]

@fleetwaysonicheritageposts

Sonic (fleetway) - Running around, trying to make up for a damage that is already fixed.

@fleetwaysupersonicheritageposts

Super Sonic (Super/Rift) - Hanging out with mephiles, recovering from being heavily damaged by Shadow before the reset.

@doctorstarlineheritageposts

Starline - Executing and plotting his very own plan, can anyone really stop him?

@moviesonicheritageposts

Sonic (Wachowski) - Hanging out, seemingly missing Tom and Maddie. [mod has some ideas for them]

@tails-dollheritageposts

Tails Doll - Lurking. [mod has some ideas for them]

@shadowthehedgehogheritageposts

Shadow [requires a nickname] - [mod has some ideas for them]

@americansonicheritageposts

Sonic [requires a nicknalme] - Dear GAIA that Mohawk!

@eclipsethedarklingheritageposts

Eclipse - Last time he made a connection with his half-mobian sibling.

@evilsupersonicofficial

Super Sonic [requires a nickname] - unleashed, Not Devin apparently.

@evilsonicofficial

Sonic (Evil/Devin) - having been reborn from the death, he's back to his usual random shenanigans.

@whisperheritageposts

Whisper - sometimes hanging out with Tangle.

MightyAndRayHeritageposts

Mighty and Ray - [not started yet]

@e123omegaheritageposts

E-123 Omega - Standing there... MENACINGLY!

@yoshiheritageposts - never returned from the liquor store

Mr-L-Heritage-Posts

Mr. L - [not started yet]

Darkspinesonicheritageposts

Sonic (Darkspine) - [mod has some ideas for them] [not started yet]

calvin-and-hobbes-heritage-posts

Calvin and Hobbles - [not started yet]

ToadBrigadeHeritagePosts

The Toad Brigade - [not started yet]

Sage-Heritage-Posts

Sage - [not started yet]

@nineheritageposts

Miles “Nine” Prower – involved in shenanigans.

@ninethefoxheritageposts

Miles “Nine” Prower (Nine 2) - [I don't know actually]

#heritageverse #heritageblr #[mod finn speaks]

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sailor-toni · 2 years ago

Text

Cost

Chapter 2: A long ago past

You can also read this on A03, FF.net, and Wattpad.

The room was covered in darkness, with only a single candelabra on the center of the round table, to light the room. Four figures sat at the table, each covering their face with long purple hoods that arched before their face like the beaks of hawks. Nocturne closed the door behind him, and locked it before joining the others. His long star-studded robe formed an elaborate chair under him. The fabric turned into ink as it weaved and built itself up. The others at the table rolled their eyes at the display of power, the green man at the end threw off his hood.

“Fashionably late as always Nocturne?” The green man said. Danny gasped at the sight of him, this man had to be related to Undergrowth in some way. He was much smaller than Undergrowth and unlike the plant titan, this man had pale green skin, and his face was more human as well with blockly features and black matted hair. But his mouth was a large green beak, and small horns were coming out of his head in a mohawk-like fashion, trailing from his hairline down to the cape of his neck. And the vines. Vines slithered out of his skin, wrapping his entire lower body like a skirt, but even in the low light Danny could see the vines under his skin crawling like worms in the dirt. Finally, the man’s arms had been replaced with the vines as well.

“I cannot help when some members come earlier than expected Undergrowth. And appearances must be kept up with the ghats and ghouls below,” Nocturne's voice was like dark chocolate on a warm day.

“Now that he is here,” The figure at the front cut in. His silver eyes under the hood gave a quick warning glance at the two. “We can begin.” The figure removed his purple hood, and allowed a long braid of silver hair to spill out. A sour expression was etched into his face like stone, and his left eye was covered in bandages. “I will start with the gravest news of all. Pariah Dark has destroyed the old castle and is in the process of building a new keep out of the rubble of the old. This new keep will be designed to repel any invaders and lead any who do manage to enter the castle, to a second early death. I was not able to obtain a copy of the floor plans before-” The figure took a long sigh, grabbing at the-

“Is that Clockwork!” Tucker yelled.

“OW! My ear!” Danny yelled back.

“I’m sorry.”

“It looks like clockwork and sounds like him, but he looks different.” Danny rubbed his poor ringing ear.

“Maybe this is him but younger?” Sam said.

“But we’ve seen Clockwork when he’s younger. He turns into a child all the time,” Tucker said.

“Maybe this is him mentally younger? I don’t know ghost aging is weird, like you know how Ember died in like 1985 but she still acts 16?”

“Yeah?”

“Well maybe ghosts don’t age physically but mentally?”

“So, ghosts only age when their minds age? That would make sense, but wait. Why does Danny Ghost form change then?”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, Danny you're not the most mature sixteen-year-old I know,”

“Well at least I don’t still collect action figures Tucker,”

“They are not action figures, they are figma figures! And they are very-”

“Would you two shut up?” Sam pointed to the table again, where Clockwork had begun talking.

“-I was found out. I did memorize the lower floors but I am not sure how useful that will be now.” Clockwork said.

The latest figure in the room took off his black cloak revealing horns made out of ice. “Why do you say that? Do you think he will change the floor plans now that he has found out?”

“I think so.”

“So, you got caught, you lost your good eye and now you come to us with nothing? Typical,” Undergrowth huffed.

“Our friend almost had his core destroyed by someone close to him, the very least you can do is lend him your pity Undergrowth? Or do you only have pity for your own worm-infested head,” Nocturne rolled his eyes.

“A plant wouldn’t have gotten caught.”

“A plant wouldn’t have gotten us anything.”

“Speaking of plants… What new information do they have?” Clockwork asked.

“Hun?”

“What updates do you have for us Undergrowth? What have your plants done in the last year?”

“My plants and I have been preoccupied with protecting the forest against the King’s forces. The armies have been attacking from the edges, but any that try to venture inside are quickly turned into fertilizer,” Undergrowth proudly said.

“That’s it?” Nocturne said.

“ That’s it? I would love to see you control an entire forest of plants against two armies without losing your form!”

“Two armies?” Clockwork asked.

“Pariah has recently divided up his forces into two armies. The weaker one attacks from the northeast, while the bothersome one attacks from the west,”

“When did his troops reach the west side?” Clockwork’s tone became serious.

“About two months ago? Why does it matter? I Will be the victor either way,”

“You seem quite relaxed for someone who is being surrounded,” Nocturne rolled his eyes. Again.

“Surrounded? Ha? Don’t make me laugh Nocturne. My forest is too massive to be surrounded by his armies,”

“Your forest is indeed large, but it is not infinite. Pariah Dark can create Armies with the power of the crown of fire, it is not impossible that he could surround your forest with his armies,” The one with the ice horns said.

“Frostbite is right, plus Pariah is known to destroy whatever he can’t control,” Nocturne gave Clockwork a quick concerned look.

“If he tries to burn the whole forest down, we should have some of Frostbite’s men there to combat the -”

“NO!” Undergrowth slammed his hands on the table. “I will not let the cold winds of death destroy what I have built. I will let none from the Land of Ice enter my lands.”

“And Pariah burning down your lands is a better solution?” Frostbite slammed his hands on the table raising himself up and above the others.

“No of course not you wet mut! But the cold will kill my plants faster than his flames. Look at the Frozen lands, do you see any plant growth there?”

“What about the dragons?’ The final figure finally spoke up, her voice was like an old woman’s, soft but harsh. “Before Nocturne decides to berate me with his overgrown tongue, the Dragon Queen could not make it to this meeting today and so she has requested that I speak for her. Her army has both fire and shadow cores in its regiments, and a small battalion of shadow cores could take temporary residence in your forest. Their shadow powers won’t harm the plants and they are a good matchup against Pariah flames. Snuffing out the sparks before they can wreck any havoc,”

Undergrowth rubbed his chin before saying “I will accept that”

“The only thing she will ask in return is that you give you ALLY an apology,”

“What?”

“Frostbite is your ally and his people will be greatly needed in the final battle. One would not see it wise to call such an important ally dogs,”

“Pandora is right,” Clockwork said. “An apology is needed.”

“No. '' Undergrowth crossed his arms like a child.

“No?!”

“I said the truth. I will not apologize for the truth, especially when the matter at hand is my lands,”

“If the plant wishes to stand by his words, then he can die by them. We will not be sending anyone to his forest,” Frostbit sat down.

“Thank you!” Undergrowth said.

“Nor will the Dragons be sending any of their people until an apology is given,”

“What! No! Uh,” Undergrowth looked around the table but his allies were in agreement with Pandora. “Fine! I am sorry for calling you dogs, even though that's what you are!”

Frostbite gave a curt nod “thank you, I will accept this apology.”

“Then I will send the Dragon Mother news about this alliance. You will hear from her soon with further terms of this agreement,” Pandora said.

“With that and with all parties pleased, I will end this topic. Next on the docket is the progress of the sarcophagus of forever sleep, Frostbite, Pandora, can you give an update?” Clockwork said.

“I am proud to say that the craftsmen sent from the Land of Ice, have been more than kind and resourceful during their stay with us,” Pandora began.

“And Pandora’s people have been more than hospitable to my people during their stay. I have received several letters from them, praising the Trojans and their metalworking skills,” Frostbite continued.

“You praise us too much Frostbite. Let’s not pass over the fact that it was your second in command’s idea to strength the metal by exposing it to rapid heat and cold,”

“But Pandora, it was your locksmiths who designed the impressive locking mechanism,”

“Yes, but they would never have come up with the idea for it if the smaller wolf had not brought up the idea of using the artifacts itself to seal the King away,”

“Aye, that might be true, but we would’ve have never managed to finish it without your people hard work,”

“Why thank you Frostbite,”

“I hate to interrupt,” Nocturne said, cutting Frostbite off before he could get his reply out. “But is the dam thing done yet?”

“The first prototype is done and ready for testing,” Pandora said.

“Aka you don’t know if it will work,” Nocturne said.

“If we had someone who is close in power to Pariah to test it on, we could see if it works or not,” Pandora's eyes moved across the table, and everyone else followed her gaze to Undergrowth.

“What? What is everyone looking at me for?” Undergrowth said.

“Since you are okay with showing your arse to others it should be okay to test the sarcophagus on you first. After all Undergrowth, you once said you were almost as powerful as Pariah Dark,”

“Well, um, that is true but-”

Nocturne slammed one of his hands on Undergrowth’s shoulders “Let’s go ally and let’s get this fancy coffin working!”

“Wait no! What!” Nocturne stammered. Everyone else at the table began to laugh at Undergrowth's misfortune.

“Hey, who turned down the lights?” Tucker asked. The figures at the table turned into harsh silhouettes before evaporating into the floor below. The rest of the room followed its lead. The black ooze receded back into its vessel, leaving the three teenagers alone in a ruined room. The fine colors and tapestries from before had been reduced to faded rags hanging from the ceiling.

“What was that? Was that the memory thing he was talking about earlier?” Sam said.

“Maybe? I don’t know, maybe we should ask Ghostwriter?” Tucker said. He walked over to the table, the wood had been ruined with time, the middle had been blasted through with the wood chips stuck and rotted into the floor below them. Each step they took the floor let out a small scream or squeak.

“With how he was looking for us before? No way, if we bother him again, he might shove us into another one of his books,” Danny said.

“But what was that? They were talking about Pariah Dark, and his sarcophagus-” Sam said.

“Yeah, and everyone looked a lot younger too, did you see how Pandora looked? Man, she was a sight,” Tucker let out a whistle.

Sam rolled her eyes, “Wait, if it was the past, then we can go ask them about what happened!”

“That’s true! I’m sure Frostbite would tell us everything!” Danny said.

“Well then what are we waiting for? let's go,”

“But what if Fright Knight sees us?” Sam said.

“Ugh, you're right. If bucket head sees us, he’ll drag us back to the castle and lecture Danny about king stuff,”

“What about the Fenton family ghost assault vehicle? We can use that to quickly move through the Ghost Zone, and if he sees us, well his horse can’t out run an assault vehicle,” Sam said.

“Yeah! Quick Danny, go ask Jazz if she can bring it!” Tucker yelled.

“Why don’t you call her!”

“She’s your sister,”

“Fine, but you have to sit next to her,” Danny said as he fumbled his phone out of his pocket. “Hey jazz? No, I’m not home? What? Fright Knight is what? Okay, um just listen to me. We need you to get the GAV to Ghostwriter’s library- you're already on your way? Oh-um okay see you soon Sis.”

“What was that?” Sam asked.

“Fright Knight is trying to find out where we are from my parents,”

“Oh! Poor fright Knight!’ Sam said.

#Danny Phantom #Cost #writing #fanfic #Fanfiction #chapter 2 #fright knight #skulker #story #nocturne #clockwork

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s1ater · 4 years ago

Text

highschool rivals, part one. eli moskowitz x reader

summary 📣: in which reader believes hawk is fucking with her when saying he does karate, but he won’t prove otherwise, no matter how much she begs.

warning/s 🚫: swearing, UNEDITED, MAJOR CRINGE

slater’s note 🗯: au where robby and miguel and hawk are all friends. this is kind of a crack fic because reader really just wants to get punched in the face and it doesn’t make sense

part one, part two

hawk is a pussy.

that’s all you could think as you walked down the west valley high school halls, searching.

for what? hawk.

where? you didn’t know.

you didn’t even go to the high school but rather the private one on the richer side of LA, east high private school for exceptional girls. you had your school uniform still on, the blue plaid skirt they made you wear swished around your waist as you marched down the blue tiled halls.

the idea of finding hawk seemed to be a lot easier in your head then when it was put into motion, it was like you had completely dismissed the fact that you had never been in west valley high, and you had only met this boy two weeks ago.

you had been parked up on the north carige hills, looking over the city lights with your friends when a silver beamer with tinted windows pulled up and parked right next to you, three boys and their siloettes inhabiting the inside of the new looking car.

it wasn’t long till they rolled down the passenger side window causing a chain reaction of you and your friend who sat in the backseat to do the same.

it revealed a teenaged boy with spiky red hair and a loud looking smirk on his face, an angry red scar that resembled lightning struck up the tip of his top lip.

“how’re we doing this evening, ladies?”

“oh dear god,” your friend harper mumbled under her breath from the passenger seat, the only one without her window down.

you chuckled lightly, glancing at the already annoyed brunette, before drawing your attention back to the boy and his friends.

“fine,” you nodded in a more upbeat tone then your friend, “and you?”

“good,” he nodded his head before looking between his friends, “say, you up for some car hoping?”

the answer was obviously yes and as soon as it was offered, mia, your other friend, practically hoped out of the backseat and into their own.

“depends,” harper shouted over your shoulder before anyone made a move, “how much weed do you got in that nice car of yours?”

he rolled his eyes, looking back to the boy in the drivers seat, a boy with tan skin and hair gelled up like all teen boys. he was smiling, and then shrugged when the boy with the mohawk looked to him.

“just get in.”

the night felt like a fever dream. immediately after your exited your own car, locking the door, you were shoved into the lap of the mohawk boy, not literally but it all felt quick enough to be a shove in the situation.

there had seemed to be no space in the back, another boy and your two friends already seated and buckled.

harper smiled up at you innocently after rolling down the window, “oh no, whatever will we do?”

“you can sit on my lap, princess.”

you rolled your eyes, thinking about if you had never gotten into that car or sat on mohawk boys lap, you wouldn’t be in the stupid situation you were in now. and it wasn’t really a situation, but more of a problem.

the sound of your ringtone echoed from the inside of your skirt pocket, you grasped the rectangle shaped devise before sighing, seeing the contact name ‘mia’.

“hello?”

“are you actually here?”

you exhaled while pinching the bridge of your nose, “yes.”

“no way, y/n, you’re fucking crazy.”

mia went to west valley high unlike you and harper, she was considered ‘the public school trash’ of your friend group, a long going joke ever since freshman year for the three of you.

she had never met hawk or miguel or robby, the boys you had acquainted in the silver beamer. which wouldn’t make sense until you actually got to meet her and how antisocial she was until she was around you and harper.

she was ditsy, clumsy, but could never put herself in very confrontational situations unless you or harper were there.

“he’s a pussy, mia.”

“so you just showed up?” she cried as you nodded even though she couldn’t see you, her own head shaking back and forth in disbelief at how impulsive you could be with your decisions, “and now you’re going to kick his ass... just because he wouldn’t kick yours?”

“c’mon mia, there is no way this boy actually knows karate, and if he did, why wouldn’t he at least try me?”

“y/n, you’re crazy!” she yelled in your ear but then it’s real silent causing you to frown, narrowing your brows.

“mia, he’s a pussy.”

“y/n, you’re crazy,” she repeated, but this time in a whisper, “and you’re also a female... who he made out with.”

your cheeks redden and you pressed your phone closer to the side of your face out of consciousness. it made you roll your eyes at how easily self conscious and embarrassed you got just at the thought of him and his body pressed against yours.

“female, mia, female. it’s 2021, how sexist could he be?” you said after a long pause, completely skipping over the part of ‘who he made out with’.

“where are you-“ the sound of the bell made her stop mid sentence, her eyes tracing the clock, “wait, y/n, wait for me before you make anymore crazy decisions.”

you rolled your eyes, hanging up the phone without any hesitation.

people begun to fill the hallway, squishing you tighter and tighter until you felt like you were in an impact box.

and even in that tight impact box, you could make out hawk’s stupid red mohawk bouncing through the air as he walked the opposite way you did, completely oblivious to the path he was about to cross, and the large storm heading his way.

you grabbed onto his arm, yanking him into the flow of your river, surprising him as well as miguel, who was previously by hawk’s side... until he wasn’t. his head stuck out from the opposite side of the hall, shock and confusion written in his face as he kept walking, there would be no stopping in a high school hallway.

“what the fuck man- y/n?” he looked like he was about to swing and you almost wished he did, but he recognized you way too fast, “what’re you doing here, princess?”

“don’t ‘princess’ me,” you taunted, “punch me in the face.”

“what?”

“punch me in the face.”

“y/n, we’ve been over this,” he rolled his eyes, not even bothering to look at you, now knowing how ridiculous the conversation you were about to have would be.

“yeah a week ago,” you said, falling into step with him, and he looks over to you with a look of unbelievability, scoffing before looking away from you again.

“what?”

“you’re fucking crazy.”

“you’re the one lying about doing karate,” you say, looking up to him causing him to scoff again.

“why would i lie about that?”

“you tell me mohawk boy.”

“shut up, i’m not punching you in the face.”

“who even does karate anymore anyways?” you mumbled more to yourself then him as the two of you continued to hustle down the hallway.

“shut up, babe,” he mumble right back, “you’re just mad i won’t touch you.”

“shut up, you couldn’t get enough of me last week,” you shot back, almost wanting to look at him and glare, but you kept looking forward, keeping your composure.

“please, you were the one-“

“y/n!”

before hawk could finish his sentence, mia appeared from around the corner, her hands out lifted in the air as if to question why you were actually standing five feet away from her.

you rolled your eyes while hawk raised his brows in question.

“you’re actually crazy!”

“that’s what i’m saying.”

“y/n, i thought i saw your face,” miguel rounded the corner out of no where, his hands stuffed in his pockets while a small smile was printed on his face.

you look to all three of the teenagers that stood before you, your mind whirling around as you tried to comprehend the words that came spitting from their mouths.

“slow down,” you raised your both your hands, giving each of them pointed looks, “one, i’m not crazy, two, you’re the one crazy because you’re most definitely lying about doing karate, and three,” your face softened as you turned to miguel, giving him a smile, “hi miguel.”

he smiled back before laughing, his chest vibrating up and down, looking to hawk, “yeah, hawk, why you gotta lie like that?”

“shut up.”

“just punch me in the face.”

“no,” he practically yelled, glaring at you, “shut up.”

“why not?”

“because it’s the stupidest thing i’ve ever heard and if you don’t want to believe me, you don’t have to,” he rolled his eyes, waving you off, starting to walk down the hall again, only this time with miguel.

you could tell that he was increasingly getting annoyed, which could only be good for you. maybe he’d finally cave.

“so, are we hanging out this weekend?” miguel called back to you and mia, trying to break the awkward silence that settled over all four of you once you guys existed the high school and out into the parking lot.

“i don’t know, i might be busy,” you lied, and they all rolled their eyes to the obvious snark in the back of your throat, key to your lying.

“c’mon princess,” hawk began to mumble, “we all know you have no other friends.”

“shut up,” you stopped along with mia for you had reached her car, “at least i don’t lie about doing karate.”

miguel laughed to himself, leaning against a neighboring car as hawk looked at you with annoyance, shaking his head.

“bye, guys,” miguel nodded off to you and mia as he began to walk to his car, cuing hawk to walk with him, no longer feeling like entertaining a conversation about lies and karate and all the teasing that flew out of your mouth.

you waved goodbye, your lips pursed as you watch the red dyed hair boy walk off, your mind swirling at all the stupid things you had said in the past ten minutes.

“oh one more thing,” you watched hawk stopped short, turning back around and jogging back to you and then closer and closer then before, his mouth touching the crest of your ear, “you look really hot in your school uniform.”

taglist:

comment to be tagged to future works :)

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