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ladykailitha · 6 months

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The Harrington Pattern Part 13

This is it guys, the chapter of this fic. I have had an absolute blast writing and even more so reading all the comments and tags.

This last chapter is dedicated to all those who wanted the moms to bring Steve into their fold. This was also chance for Steve to rip on the haters without fear of his parents ire.

Thank you so much for all the love and support for this little story.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

****

Claudia was waiting at the Byers’ front door when Eddie pulled up in his van and Steve hopped out.

“Eddie!” she cried happily. “I didn’t know you were coming!”

“Hey, Mrs. H,” Eddie said with a wave. “I’m just dropping Stevie off. We’re hanging out later.”

“That was sweet of you, dear,” Claudia cooed.

Steve in the meantime was pulling things out of the backseat of the van. Eddie looked over at him.

“You need help, darlin’?” he asked over his shoulder.

Steve shook his head. “I’ve got it. Thank you, though.” In lower voice he muttered, “I love you and I’ll see you later.”

Eddie gave Steve’s forearm a squeeze and then waved at Claudia. He backed out of the driveway and was soon gone from sight.

“We’ve got all sorts of surprises for you today, Steve,” she said gleefully clapping her hands together.”

Steve grinned at her. “Mrs. Peterson here yet?”

Claudia shook her head. “She’s always at least fifteen minutes late. Something we were banking on actually.”

Steve cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

But Claudia just ushered him inside. He set his stuff down and then handed her a tray.

“I made blondies,” he said, “I hope you ladies like them.”

She peeled back the foil and gasped. “Steve they look amazing!”

Joyce came out of the kitchen wiping her hands. “What looks amazing?” she asked peering over Claudia’s shoulder. She, too, gasped when she saw them. “Steve, you didn’t!”

Steve grinned. “Your sons always eat the ones I send home with them before they even get home, so I figured you’d appreciate these.”

She kissed his cheek. “You are a dear.”

Claudia laid them out on table next to all the other treats.

On the coffee table were a bunch of things under a large sheet with clowns on it.

“The three of us,” Karen began, “wanted to do something extra special for you after hearing what fun our children had at the Fair because you made sure they did. So we each contributed something toward your love of sewing.”

She lifted the sheet. Underneath was a beautiful sewing kit in navy blue, a light green Singer sewing machine that looked older than he was, and a stack of old patterns.

Steve’s lip wobbled as he raised his hand to his mouth in shock.

“You didn’t have to do this, ladies,” he whispered.

“The sewing kit is from me,” Karen continued. “It’s a beginner’s kit, but it has fabric scissors, a seam ripper, bobbins for your thread and different kinds of needles.”

Steve sat down and pulled it onto his lap. He opened it and as he lifted the lid, the top tray pulled back revealing the tray beneath. “Thank you.”

“The sewing machine,” Claudia said proudly, “is the first one I ever owned. When I got married I got a new one and I’ve been using that ever since. But this ol’ girl has a lot of love and life left in her, and I want you to have her.”

Steve looked up at her, tears forming in his eyes. “Aren’t you worried that I’ll break it? Or that my parents will find it and destroy it?”

Claudia knelt in front of him. “It’s gonna be kept at my house until you get a place of your own. You’re there all the time to see Dusty anyway, no one is going to notice that you’re there to sew now, too.”

“Plus,” Joyce said with a grin. “It’s a Singer. They’re a little hard to break. They’re one of the best machines and it will probably outlast your children. So don’t worry about it, okay?”

Steve nodded, his lip quivering. Claudia kissed his forehead and stood back up.

“The patterns are from me,” Joyce said. “Whenever I would have a little extra money I would pick up a pattern or two at the drug store and bring it home. I picked a handful that I thought you’d like since you’re primarily making costumes. And if those work for you, next week I’ll bring another handful you might like.”

Tears started flowing down his cheeks. “Thank you. All of you. This is best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

“Oh honey,” Joyce said softly and suddenly Steve was being hugged on all sides by the moms.

They stayed like that until there was a knock on the door.

“That must be Olive,” Claudia said with a sigh. “I bet she brought those brownies that are totally store bought even though she insists it her grandmother’s recipe.”

Steve snickered. “My mom used to do that. I don’t think she fooled anyone either.”

Joyce grinned over her shoulder as she went to go answer the door. “Olive, dear! We were just getting started.”

“Oh?” the bright voice on the other side of the door cooed. “You’re usually in the full swing of things by now.”

Steve bristled. That meant she knew she was late and was doing it intentionally. He hated people like that. Acting like the rest of them were peasants meant to be waiting on her.

“Steve was just showing us the costumes he made for the kids for the Fair over the weekend,” Karen said sweetly as Steve hurried to get the things he brought to show off out.

Olive stepped into the house with a sneer. “I think it’s so sweet you’re indulging the boy, but I doubt he can hold a candle to Claudia’s years of experience.”

Wow, Steve thought. Not only did she insult him, but she insinuated Claudia was old. What was with this old bag?

Claudia smirked. “It’s true that I’ve been doing it for longer, but Steve has a real talent for it. Come see.”

Olive walked into the front room and Steve was struck by how much she reminded him of his mother. She had perfectly curled hair with not a single strand out of place. Her clothes were fitted and showed off her figure. Her makeup was flawless.

In short, Steve hated her on sight.

Joyce handed her the shirt he had made for underneath his tunic. It was flawless but understated.

Olive took the shirt and scoffed. “You couldn’t have done this, Harrington, you shouldn’t lie to your betters.”

Steve was already seeing red. “I guess I’ll just have to prove it to you then.”

Joyce clapped her hands together. “All right, let’s get started. Steve, you can eat as much as you want, but just make sure to keep it away from other people’s projects.”

Steve smiled at her sweetly. “Of course!”

He knew that what she was really saying was that Olive Peterson might try something.

He sat in the armchair away from her and she glared at him.

“Is it all right if I work on my project first before you teach me how to use the sewing machine?” he asked just as she was taking a drink of punch.

Olive was forced to turn away and cough into her hand to avoid spraying everyone with the lemonade that Claudia had made.

Karen’s smile was feral. “I don’t see why that would be a problem, right, Claudia?”

“Of course not, Steve,” she replied warmly. “Just let me know when you want to learn and I’ll come over and help you.”

Steve nodded. He pulled out the materials that Eddie suggested he bring and got to work.

Eddie really liked that Steve’s bags had a lining because it protected the dice better, so Steve had brought along some materials he could use for that as well.

About halfway through his first bag, Joyce called out.

“Steve? What’s that pattern you’re putting on the bag?”

Steve’s eyes lit up. “It’s my signature! I embroider it on everything I do to make sure people can’t pass it off as their own.” He handed the bag over to her.

“Oh!” she cried in excitement. “This is the design you put on Will and El’s costumes when you did their alterations, right?”

Steve nodded. “I hope you don’t mind. I know you made the clothes, but I thought it was a cute way to tie the two together like they were twins.”

“It was perfect,” Joyce said. “El still hasn’t stopped talking about how pretty your design made the dress.”

Steve blushed as he took the pouch back from her.

“I was talking to someone at the Renaissance Fair,” he said shyly, “and she wanted me make them clothes and things that she would sell for me. She even told me to make business cards in case someone wanted to commission me directly.”

“Oh Steve!” Karen cried. “That’s wonderful!” She clapped her hands together and tilted her head. “I have to admit I’m a little jealous. That pattern is beautiful. I would love a handkerchief with that on it.”

Steve straightened up. “Yeah?”

Karen nodded.

“What color would you like?” he asked excitedly.

Karen tried to protest but he wouldn’t let her. In fact he managed to convince all but Olive to let him make them one for them.

It did, unfortunately take him to the end of the two hours, but he was excited to come next week.

“I’ll even host it at my place!” he said with a grin.

Olive sputtered. “Well I won’t be there if it’s at this young man’s house. That’s so inappropriate.”

The three other ladies looked at each other and then shrugged.

“Your loss,” Karen said dryly.

Olive stormed out of the house vowing that as long as Steve was part of the group she would never come back.

“Well that is a relief,” Joyce said, “I’m not the kind to speak ill of anyone, but we really got quite the upgrade!”

Karen clapped her hands. “Indeed. I can’t wait for next week. I’ve got a new project I’m starting and I found the best recipe for a chocolate mousse that I’ve been dying to try out.”

“Same time next week, ladies?” Steve asked.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Claudia agreed.

Then there came a loud honk.

Steve looked out the window and smiled. “Looks like my ride is here.”

He gather up his stuff, including the patterns and sewing kit and walked out to Eddie’s van.

He slid into the front seat.

“You have fun today, sweetheart?” Eddie asked, pulling out of the driveway.

“Yeah,” Steve said looking fondly at the house. “This has been the best weekend ever.”

Eddie grinned. “Well, it’s about to get even better, just wait to you see what I have planned for us today.”

Steve smiled as Eddie regaled him with his plans and nodded along.

Life was really looking up. He had a platonic soulmate, good friends, an amazing boyfriend, a hobby he enjoyed and could make real money from, and now a group of people to share that hobby with each week.

And to think it all started with a flier about the Renaissance Fair coming back to Hawkins.

“I can’t wait,” he breathed once Eddie was done.

Eddie smiled that sweet smile at always turned Steve’s insides to mush.

Yeah, Steve could honestly say that he was happy.

****

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#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #steve is a history nerd

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the-raven-lady · 1 month

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(Not) The Savior You Long For [Part 2]

[Masterlist] [My Ko-Fi]

Pairing: Night Lord (OC: Elias Rushorik) x serf!Reader [fem]

Song Inspiration: Jaws - Sleep Token [YouTube] [Spotify] “And I’m not here to be / the savior you long for / Only the one you don’t. / Are you watching me / with eyes of a predator / As you move towards the door?”

Warnings: Violence, cannibalism, explicit and detailed blood and gore, Night Lord things, ownership over reader, accidental voyuerism (sound only), trypanophobia (medical syringe)

Word Count: 3.7k

Author’s Note: 1.6k words of this are just an introduction that I wrote before I even got into the meat of it, completely by accident, because I do not know how to write without adding 30 layers of context and background (4D chess ass writing). Special thank you to @cannibalise for giving me delectable ideas and reading over some of the more graphic parts to help me set the tone!!!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Tag List: @egrets-not-regrets @sleepyfan-blog @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @bispecsual

@lemon-russ @moodymisty @dedios-of-the-word @pickpocketing-your-gender @historitor-bookshelf

Even weeks later, you struggle to shake the psychological mark the terminator’s gaze left on you. You make yourself busy sweeping one of the main halls, pushing your broom robotically up and down the grand passageway. The other legion serfs around you serve a similar purpose: readying the ship for the return of your Primarch and his elite troops. The Nightfall had been in orbit of this planet for naught but a week, dealing with a cultish tech-society and its oppressive government, yet the Night Lords managed to convince them to join the Imperium in record time.

Convince is a strong word. You’re intimately aware that the discussion was had in the language of acts of violence and burned cities. Having once been on the receiving end of the Eighth’s hedonistic wrath, the thought sends an unpleasant chill through you, memories of mutilation and dismemberment still so clear in your mind. It had taken months for you to stop having panic attacks at the metallic tang of fresh blood. The whirr of a heavy flamer still got to you.

On one of your passes, you sweep by the alley leading to the armory and stop, staring down the dark hall. The serf no longer hangs from the torch bracket, and the astartes that attacked you no longer sits limply against the wall. His armor had been picked at and ‘recycled’ back into the legion. You have no idea what became of either body.

Another memory involuntarily takes you back to the night you had been so narrowly saved by the terminator.

—No, you could not call him your savior. He had just wanted his armor shined, and there was something in his way so he removed it. Night Lords are selfish, self-interested and sadistic, and he was no different.

You rested the massive helmet in your lap as you worked, scraping at filth that had built up for who knows how long. It amazed you that the astartes it belonged to could even see through the lenses given how much dried blood was crusted on them. It came off in flakes before dissolving into the moisture of the wash rag. You could have called the stained fabric spotless when you started compared to how soiled with grime it was now; at a glance, no one would be able to tell that it was white before.

The terminator’s eyes watched you like final judgement. The weight of his gaze instilled an unease in your heart, stabbing at every opportunity it could: each time you looked up at him, each time you lost focus, each time you caught a glimpse of the mangled Night Lord on the floor. It all hammered at a primal spike of dread that threatened to overwhelm you, consume you entirely, reminding you that you were only alive because you were useful. The tension was just as strong as when you had been pinned to the wall or huddled on the floor.

Your washcloth eventually reached a point where it was only smearing the grime rather than removing it, and you looked up to your silent master. The power of his presence alone made you hesitant to speak, and you found your throat suddenly parched. When you eventually recovered your voice, it left you as a croak, “I-I need to grab my water pail from the other room.”

He simply continued to stare at you, unmoving. As still as the gargoyles adorning the hall. You thought for a second that maybe he hadn’t heard you, and you opened your mouth to try again.

”I need to—“

”Then do it.”

You flinched. A rolling storm, his simple response left no room for questioning. Carefully placing his helmet onto the bench, you scuttled off to retrieve the bucket from the other room. His gaze burnt holes into your back.

The water in your bucket was a rusty brown slop when you returned to it. All of the heavier contaminants had settled to the bottom in a coagulated mass while you were away, gelatinous flesh and tangled hair weaving throughout. You lifted the heavy pail, careful not to spill any of the vile concoction onto yourself. Passing by, you noted that the other serf’s water was substantially less dingy than your own, and you didn’t think twice to grab it instead. It’s not as if it was of any use to her now.

The squelch of meat being torn and defiled echoed suddenly through the otherwise silent armory, instinctually gluing you to your spot on the floor. Cracks and crunches of something solid breaking bounced around you. The abrasive sounds left your heart fluttering and nerves electric, and a panicked tension flowed through your limbs as fight or flight tried its damndest to take over.

‘It would be safer to hide, hide, retreat to safety,’ it erroneously cried, weighing you down like lead. A comforting lie.

One you refused to give in to.

‘There is no safety here,’ you retorted, ‘Only certain death.’ A wolf’s den, and you were the doting lamb. The fear of facing punishment for taking too long far outweighed the hesitation to continue, and you willed yourself to step forward through the icy shackles binding you.

The sight of the terminator tearing flesh from the body of his former brother froze you as you rounded the corner with your pail. His eyes were glazed in manic pleasure as he ripped off another juicy chunk, sharp teeth effortlessly dissecting muscle fibers from the cooling corpse. Bestial snarling and slurping accompanied every chomp, and growls at a pitch nearly too deep to hear rattled through your bones like a saw. With each gnash of his powerful jaws, blood and spit shot out of the torn hole in his mouth, drooling down his armor in crimson dribbles.

Time itself seemed to stop when his predatory gaze found you. His dilated pupils completely swallowed the outer corners of white— could you even consider them dilated when they took up so much of his eyes already?— and pinned you in place. The ravenous beast swallowed his kill in a silent threat.

You were about to make a run for it when he lowered the defiled corpse and snarled at you, foreign viscera spewing from his scar.

”Finish.”

You had done exactly as you were told while the terminator continued to make a mess of himself. Once you’d finished his helmet, he made you clean off the rest of his armor as a token of a job well done.

A strong dissonance contrasted the perfectly shined ceramite and rags of human hide adorning his war gear. You didn’t understand at first why the Night Lords would go through such lengths to clean their armor, only to decorate it with the disgusting tokens of their kills and bathe it in blood again, but over time you began to recognize the mentality. The layers of blood were a byproduct of their work— terrifying in their own right, yes, however ultimately just ‘part of the job’—, but each placement of flesh and bone was deliberate; they chose to wear them. It added terror to their already gruesome countenance.

You figure you must have done well polishing his armor, because the terminator had left you alive in the end. As expected, he gave you no feedback. No thanks or gratitude shown before he simply walked off. For the second time that day, you were left in the armory with a huge mess to clean entirely on your own.

Shaking your head, you return to the present and continue sweeping, pushing the pile of dust around to keep yourself busy.

Sharp clanks of heavy boots cut through the relative peace. You look down the hall to see other serfs parting ways and scurrying off to make way for a coming company of giants. Their armor dwarfed that of the regular Night Lords, tanks of metal and firepower that razed battlefields in their wake.

The Contekar Elite.

You knew of them from hushed whispers passed between serfs in the chow hall. Units of butchers that sowed despair in the hearts of their foes. Ruthless in how they constantly checked one another, the Contekar took advantage of any perceived weakness to prove their dominance over the rest of the legion. They were notorious for simply killing any commanders they disagreed with, and only the likes of First Captain Sevatarion or the Lord Night Haunter himself could tame them.

Each colossus carried weapons as long and large as your entire body as they approached: chainblades, flamers, and cavitators, all ready to be used at a moment's notice. You hurried to get out of their way, tucking yourself behind a hallway corner. The monoliths of steel shook the ground with each step, a deafening thunder echoing down the main hall that signaled their arrival. There was no chorus or fanfare amongst them to be found; each marine was as silent as death itself.

They ignored you as they passed by. The Contekar couldn’t care less for the meddlings of a common legion serf, too busy with themselves to notice you, and it brought you shallow comfort.

At least, it would have.

Preoccupied with watching the marines at your front passing by, you didn’t realize that one of them was headed straight towards you until his footfalls physically rattled the ground beneath you. You whip your head towards him and nearly jump out of your skin, clutching to the corner of the wall as he stares down at you.

His entire body is marred with blood. Even from where you cower, you can see that he must be at least three meters tall in his armor, if not more. The digits of his power claw have pieces of mangled flesh still caught between their hydraulic pistons, forming webs between them. A mummified head dangles at eye level from a meat hook, and it crosses your mind that it could have been yours.

You recognize his tusked helmet immediately.

The Contekar studies you. He is a perfect statue: unmoving and silent aside from the faint whirring emanating from the power pack on his back. Behind the scarlet lenses, his eyes scrutinize you down to your very last atom. A lion picking apart its prey.

“Come,” he orders, his gruff voice offering no further explanation. He takes a step away from you with the intent to continue further down the passage, and you suddenly find your limbs leaden and weak, unable to follow. Sensing your trepidation, his head turns back towards you, eyes locking on yours. The faded skull decal isn’t as cute when you’re at the receiving end of its ire.

Pain shoots up your left arm as you’re yanked off of the wall and lifted without another word. The cold metal of the Escaton power claw digs into your bones uncomfortably, sharpened claws at each fingertip poking into your flesh. The terminator grasps you by your forearm and drags you beside him until you can find your footing and walk on your own, stumbling into a jog to keep up. When you retrieve your arm, partially dried pieces of viscera stick to it from where you were grabbed. You brush them off hastily with a grimace; at least the power claw didn’t break skin.

You hug closely to the terminator’s leg as you walk with the group, not wanting to get trampled. The other serfs mostly keep their heads down as you pass them by, but a few give you a sympathetic look. The rest of the Contekar continue to ignore you.

The suites housing the Elite are grander than any part of the ship you have been in thus far. Compared to the regular Night Lord’s dorms, the metal halls leading to their private quarters are pristine. The usual decor of skulls and tanned skins is present, but there is no buildup of filth and grime along the floors and walls. The scent of fresh air is jarring. Most surprising to you is that each of the marines has their own private rooms, which you learn when you are unceremoniously shoved into one.

The tusked terminator’s room is shockingly comfortable, for a Night Lord. A thin light strip, the same brightness of a full moon on your former world, serves as the only illumination of the dark room. Along the walls are various trophies that you assume are from his time in the field, both of his kills and plunders. A large work table and chair take up the whole of the wall to your right. Instead of a regular astartes-sized cot, there is an actual bed with pillows and a wide plush mattress. In the back corner of the room is a closed door, which you assume leads to a washroom.

Whoever your new charge was, he lives well.

A click catches your attention, and you turn to your left to see him removing the heavy pauldrons of his armor. He places each of them on the sturdy table, then turns his attention to his power claw, his gauntlets, his vambraces— steadily pulling them off one plate at a time. After removing his helmet, shakes out his greasy black hair and turns to look at you with a furrow in his brow.

You remember your place and jump into action, aiding the marine in removing his sabatons. The plates of ceramite are much too heavy for you to lift on your own, but it’s easier for your smaller hands to get into the creases to release locks and latches. The two of you enter a wordless synergy, pulling off the heavy terminator armor piece by piece and placing each on a designated mantle. You’re extra careful not to get caught on the hooks of his armor. The desiccated head serves as a good reminder.

Even reduced to just his body glove, the astartes is colossal. His height easily dwarfs the majority of his brothers. You have to crane your neck upwards to look at his face, barely coming up to chest level on him. This close, you can see the sprinkling of grey hair within his sideburns and the lines of his face that indicate some arbitrary older age. You never did know how to tell the ages of astartes.

He uses his newfound freedom to stretch his limbs. Each is as broad as a tree trunk, and you figure they’re likely just as immovable. When he catches you staring and waiting, he simply returns the look, quietly raising an eyebrow.

“Would you like your armor shined, my lord?” you try, gesturing vaguely to the table and mantle. His eyes track the movement, looking over his war gear in silence before he gives you a curt nod. He points to a drawer beside his bed, then without further clarification turns his attention to removing his body glove.

Within the drawer you discover a stack of folded shop towels. Why they’re there is a mystery to you. Judging by the size of the terminator armor, you decide three is enough for now, grabbing them and sliding the drawer shut. You look up to ask if the Contekar has any armor oil around, only to see him half-naked walking through the door in the corner. It swings shut behind him, leaving you once again to solve your problems on your own.

You wonder what force in this universe blessed you with such a communicative master.

It took him three entire days to tell you, “you live here,” instead of simply denying you the ability to leave and making you sleep on the floor. You swore he was going to turn your rib cage into a new trophy when you eventually did get out, trying to navigate your way back to the serfs’ dormitory for much needed food. He had hunted down like a rabbit, snatched you up from behind, and thrown you back into his quarters with a growl to, “stay put.” What the terminator lacked in words, he greatly made up for with his intimidating presence.

He did get you food, though, and an abundance of it. You hadn't seen so much variety since you were still living on your home planet. Delicacies like meat were rare to you, and you eagerly scarfed everything down. In your hunger, you did not ask where the meat came from.

It’s not as if he would have told you anyway, given how scantily he spoke. You haven’t even gotten his name out of him yet.

The only times you were permitted to leave the suite were when you could accompany him. Trips to the armory gave you vital chances to hoard cleaning supplies, having gotten accustomed to the lesser atmosphere of decay around the Elites’ quarters. On top of the standard armor oils, you managed to snag an expensive looking jar of polish, which you hoped would gain you some favor. Your master doesn’t particularly show you signs of care, but he also hasn’t killed you yet, and that has to be worth something.

On your way back to his quarters, a discordant howling rings out from one of the rooms adjacent to his. You flinch at the sound, assuming the worst: that somebody nearby was in the midst of being tortured and flayed alive, and that you would have to hear their slow untimely demise throughout the night. It wouldn’t be the first time you had to fall asleep to the sounds of screams and cries. The Contekar, however, scoffs. His nose scrunches up in annoyance, teeth bared in a disgusted snarl.

“Don’t understand the appeal,” he grunts, shaking his head and continuing forward.

Glancing over in confusion, you start to pay more attention to the sound. The rhythmic pattern of each holler and whine. The sound of skin on skin. The quiet pleas of, “more, please, more!”

Your eyes widen when you put two and two together, ducking your head down to hide the blush steadily rising on your cheeks. That was not the type of torture you were expecting to hear. You pick up the pace and hope the terminator doesn’t recognize your sudden newfound urgency.

He allows you to store your armory stash in his bedside drawer alongside the rags. It nearly knocks you over when he throws an arm out to keep you from closing it, sending you staggering back with a huff. He removes one of the towels, then abruptly drops it over the top of your head. You don’t even get the chance to remove it before you’re being pushed in a direction, blindly stumbling along. A transition strip between some passageway causes you to trip and fall to the floor. Pulling the towel off of your head, your vision clears to the sight of the bathroom.

You shoot the terminator a bewildered look before he lifts you by the back of your shirt and throws you underneath a showerhead, giving you no warning before turning it on. The cold jet hits you like a hose spray, causing you to yipe at the sudden temperature shock. Freezing water saturates your clothes.

He breathily laughs at your agonized shiver.

Despite the rude beginning, you return from the washroom refreshed, feeling for the first time like your skin isn’t permanently encrusted with the gunk lining nearly every surface of the ship. It had been weeks since you could last bathe in any capacity. The water did warm up eventually– not warm, but not frigid– and allow you to scrub the filth off.

When you exited the shower, your master was nowhere to be seen, and there was a new uniform on the oversized counter. It wasn’t difficult to tell that it was intended for you, given the vast size difference between you and the Elite. The navy blue outfit bears an embroidery of the Eighth’s winged skull over each shoulder and lines of Nostraman text that you are unable to translate. You’re just happy the new garbs aren’t tattered and fraying like the last, which you gleefully toss. They land in the bucket with a wet squish.

As you approach the door to the main room of the quarters, you’re alerted to the sound of quiet conversation, not expecting there to be anyone but the terminator about. The tonal register is too low and quiet for you to make out any spoken words.

You enter the space in time to watch your master sit at the table and place his arm out flat upon it. An apothecary stands beside him unpackaging a syringe. He stabilizes the terminator’s arm in the crux of his shoulder, turning his palm upwards and pressing the bevel of the needle into a prominent vein running distally from the elbow. Crimson liquid slowly fills the barrel as he pulls the plunger back.

The apothecary’s cart bears instruments uncharacteristic of typical medicae. Replacing scalpels and suturing utensils are various packaged needles and pigment bottles. A large battery pack wires into a small rectangular box, the screen and dials illegible to you from your current distance, with a strange metal stylus connected to it. Sitting atop a stack of disposable napkins is a tall wash bottle containing a clear substance. The apothecary flicks the syringe until the bubbles have all risen to the top, slowly venting the air until only blood remains, and he carefully ejects a drop into each of the waiting ink cups.

Your gaze falls back on the Contekar in time to see him rising from his chair and walking towards you. You cower back on instinct, anxiety creeping up from your chest.

He wipes a stray drop of blood from his arm with a thumb, and when you move to question what’s going on, he jams the digit into your mouth. The coppery taste spreads over your tongue as you gag from the intrusion, unable to pull away due to the unyielding grip he has on your jaw. He jerks your head upwards, forcing you to look at him, and the abyss of his black eyes swallows you whole.

“Strip.”

Not everyone saw the art the first time around, so here's your Mans

[Part 3]

#i fucking hate medical needles so that one scene was hard to write for me #the things I do for night lord tattoos #night lord #night lords #night lord x reader #warhammer fanfic #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #warhammer 30k #horus heresy #warhammer 40k x reader #wh 40k #oc: elias rushorik #raven lady writings

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saotoru · 9 months

Note

OH... OH DID I HEAR PUPPYBOY LEON?

puppyboy leon who gets so sad when you have to put him in a cage!! especially when you go out!! he doesn't understand.. he didnt mean to chew on ur shoes while u were gone, he was just so bored! that was when you decided he ultimately needed a cage. you try to give him a nice big comfy cage but he still whines and paws at the bars whenever you put him in there :( he'll try to satisfy his want for you with the soft blanket that smells like you that's in his cage<3 when you come back he's immediately getting up from the nap he was taking (he fell asleep after tossing and turning without you), wagging his tail, barking excitedly for you!!

but it's even worse when you put him in his cage for when he was naughty... catching him going through your laundry :0?? yelling at him telling him he's a bad dog, and he feels so bad he swears he'll never do it again, but it smelt so much like you! and you weren't paying attention to him!! his ears are all droopy pleading with you but you end up having to lock him in there, ignoring him for the rest of the night. it feels like hes gonna die in that cage...

AGSIDHDKDK!!!🥺 the image this gave me is so cute and sad!! him putting things in his crate that smell like you so he’s not so lonely when he’s gone is SOOO SWEET:( poor baby just wants to be comforted by your presence is all!! clings to a random shirt of yours with his face smothered in it and falls asleep like that :(

normally you’d fold when he paws at the bars with sad puppy dog eyes but!! he needs to learn his lesson !! puppies aren’t supposed to go through dirty laundry and chew your dirty panties and socks >:// punishment is punishment. and to make it worse you’re ignoring him. no matter how loud he whines. like he doesn’t even exist! after an hour or so of howling you obviously won’t acknowledge him so he’ll curl up on his tummy and try to go to sleep; he’s grateful his cage is in your bedroom and he can at least watch you sleep, even if it hurts that he’s not in bed with you 😭 <33

#kit tag #special kit tag <3 #i think this is the right tag #HELLO KIT ILY #i need to stop using ‘ :( ‘ as punctuation #i wan him as a doggie #doggie leon <33 #im feeling nice and wanna take him on a walk rn :)#thirsts tag

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skz-streamer · 1 year

Text

10 Items Stray Kids' Y/n Carries Around In Her Bag

<- BACK TO MASTERLIST

Here are the 10 items that Stray Kids' Y/n keeps in her bag!

By: Bae, Kpopmap Editor 4 min to read · Published : Date 08/26/33 ~63,562 Views

Stray Kids are a leading 4th generation idol group that has captured the hearts of millions across the globe. Their schedule is jampacked, especially with their most recent comeback. They show no signs of slowing down as they are set to attend many upcoming events.

Despite being busy and always on the road, Stray Kids', Y/n joined W Korea for a photoshoot. In behind the scenes content, the member was also able to share what's in her bag. These items hold a special meaning and are absolutely essential for the life of the busy idol.

Check out what's in Y/n's bag down below!

1. A Set Of Dice

"Oh, you won't believe the chaos this purse can tame! First off, there's my set of Louis Vuitton dice that Felix gifted me, its a little extra I know :) Whenever things get crazy, it's like a quick coin flip to decide our fate. It's a fun and easy way to lighten the mood."

2. A Hair Clip

"I always like to keep a hair clip in here. It's this beautiful gold star shaped clip with dangling stars – perfect for those impromptu hair-up moments. It's functional and adds a touch of style to any situation."

3. A Mini Jewelry Case

"I've got a mini jewelry case, too. It's not just for me; all the members use it to keep our jewelry safe when we're on the go. You know how we all love our accessories, and this little case is a lifesaver."

4. A Mini Hairbrush

"Of course, a mini hairbrush is a must. You never know when you'll need to fix up your hair, especially with all the performances and appearances we do."

5. Lip Tint

"Lip tint is another staple. I use it all the time to keep my lips looking lively and fresh. It's that perfect touch of color for any moment."

6. Mini Makeup Kit + Makeup Wipes

"I've got this adorable mini makeup kit from Milk, along with a pack of makeup wipes. It's a quick way to touch up our makeup and stay looking flawless, even during the busiest days."

7. Re-useable Tissue Holder

"For the environmentally conscious side of me, there's a reusable tissue holder with tissues inside. It's great for those unexpected sneezes or quick clean-ups. Plus, it doubles as a napkin in a pinch."

8. Mini fan + Power Bank

"You know how unpredictable the weather can be, so I carry around a mini fan with a power bank. Staying cool and charged – it's like a dream come true."

9. Self Defense Alarm

"I've also got a self-defense alarm, just in case. Even though my boys are always there for me, it's important to be cautious. Safety first, after all."

10. Perfume

"And the cherry on top – a mini bottle of Miss Dior eau de toilette. It's a classic scent that my mom used, so it holds a special place in my heart. A quick spray and I'm feeling refreshed and ready to take on the world."

"So, there you have it! My purse is a mix of practicality, style, and memories. It's like a little piece of me that I carry everywhere."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

an: I tried to make it pretty overall, I know you can't really fit urself into the y/n perspective but... either way this was really fun to make :))))))

Current tag list is: @eee5533 @mixtape-racha @ot8skz-wifey @ren0325 @felixvsp @crybabyychu @sanriiolino @painstakingly-juno @herarcadewasteland @dabiscrustyfeet @kai-lee08

Red means I couldn't tag youuu

Click here to be added ❤️

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milkteatrait · 11 months

Text

starfruit: cosmetics set

starfruit is a cosmetics collection created by milkteatrait laboratories, inspired by the romantic goth aesthetic. this collection includes concealer, eyebrows, eyeshadow and velvet lip kits to achieve the soft yet vampy glamour of romantic goth.

included: + concealer (in skin detail, mouth crease section!) + 5 eyebrows + eyeshadow (different opacities) + velvet lip kit

i would also like to give special credit to santana barela on youtube who created a makeup tutorial on the romantic goth look-- without them, this totally would not have happened lMFAO you can watch their tutorial here!!! <3

i still need cc testers, so if you would like to join the crew-- please fill out the form here!! <;33

thank you all for your support!!! happy simblreen!!! <33 (and sorry for all the files omg)

download: patreon | sfs (always free!)

tagging some cc pages (THANK YOU!!! <333): @sssvitlanz @maxismatchccworld @simbfinds @alwaysfreecc @public-ccfinds @simblreenofficial

#sims 4 cc #milkteatrait #ts4cc #ts4 mm #sims 4 makeup cc #new simblr #sims 4 makeup #sims 4 #sims 4 edit #sims 4 community #sims 4 lookbook #ts4 #mycc #mttcc #sims 4 download #sims 4 custom content #the sims 4 custom content #sims 4 custom makeup #sims 4 simblreen

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cher-rei · 2 months

Text

afterglow pt- 13 [ T.A.A ]

pairings: trent alexander arnold x fem!reader

summary: young and aspiring marketing and business major jamie carter (you) is privileged with working alongside the liverpool marketing and public relations team while also getting entangled with their star player and right back, trent alexander arnold.

genre(s): friends to lovers, fluff, slowish?? burn and just a good time

[wc: 5.3k] afterglow masterlist

notes: rahhhhhh!!!

spamjam._.

liked by liverpoolfc and 3 244 225 others

spamjam._. may 24th anyone? [tagged: taylorhinds]

view all comments below

taylorhinds 👀💜 [liked by spamjam._.]

liverpoolfc collab of the century I fear

→ spamjam._. if you know, you know 🤞🏻

user collab?? are they doing a photoshoot together or something?

→ user probably, you know how jamie is and her random promo photoshoots for brands 😭

→ user take back to the adidas shoot last year omw

→ user life was so much easier back then

virgilvandijk oh, so you were serious? 😂

→ spamjam._. I had a 10 hour board meeting yesterday for this. don't test my commitment 🙄

trentarnold66 she's a baller 🥵 [liked by spamjam._.]

harvelliot LET'S GO!! COUNT YOUR DAYS ON THAT PITCH

fía.messi bro has me flying over for this 😭 [liked by spamjam._.]

→ spamjam._. I couldn't get your dad so I had to settle for the next best thing (and mateo is only 10 so I had to choose you 😔)

"what's the date today?"

"the 23rd," laura answered promptly and went back to typing something on her laptop while the rest of your media team carried on with their personal tasks in the meeting room.

you stood at the whiteboard in front— a black marker in one hand and your ipad in the other as you wrote out and marked certain dates down and finalised a few things.

"okay." you tapped the marker on your chin and took a step back from the board, gaining everyone's attention. "those pictures are up for the efl final, but I'm going to need a date for next week for my meeting with the set designers and stylists because I have a few ideas for the launch."

sienna, another member of your media team was quick to check her calender, her email set up on her desktop. "you're good for march 4th if we're set to release the shoot may 7th."

you bit the inside of your cheek as you thought for a moment. "put it down. I'd also like an update on the news for the boss' special collection and," you wrote down something under the title national duty. "I need the flags ordered asap."

the room fell silent after that, everyone in their own headspace while the sound of keyboards clicking sounded through the room. you wanted to make next season's kit release a big one, the board giving you three words to ride off of and the mock design for the kit a few months ago.

you quite liked the tribute to the design and after consulting a few close professionals (sophia and alexandra) there was an idea of what you were going for. the idea of a more sophisticated look and aesthetic ran through your mind, the question of how would you style the jersey yourself playing a role.

"moped," you blurted which got you a few strange looks. "I want a moped for the shoot."

logan, who was silent for most the of the meeting eyed you for a second. "like the scooter?"

"the bike from that one disney movie?" laura followed and pulled up her pinterest page, moving her laptop to show you and you nodded, writing it down under the kit launch column on the board.

"I want it in red and maroon and see if they can get the jersey design on it," you said while tieing up your hair because this was oh so obviously only the beginning of the meeting.

you had been so busy the past few hours, confined between four walls that the only sunlight you were getting was the light emitting from the passage through the simgular glass wall of your meeting room that overlooked the second floor. your phone was probably buzzing with messages from clara asking you when you were free for your lunch break but that was the last of your worries.

but eventually something caught your attention from the corner of your eye as you stood in front of your team, going over some extra details. "the videographers are working on it currently so all we nee--"

you paused mid-sentence, the glimpse of a figure strolling past the room catching your attention for a moment. "uhm, all we need is to check if..."

they walked past again, only this time at a pace that was definitely noticeable. normally you would've disregarded trent's childish behaviour in the middle of work but everyone was growing agitated and needed a break.

you flicked your attention from your team to trent who was strolling along with his hands in his pockets, only to come back a second time, then a third until your team gradually noticed him. your lips drew into a thin line as he sent them a small wave, pretending to be busy.

"okay, everyone we can take a break." you set the markers down, their thankful sighs of relied making you laugh. "I'll see you in 45, okay?"

the seven of your team members flooded out the door in no time, leaving you alone while trent waited until they were out of sight to finally enter the room. he walked up you the whiteboard beside you, trying to act as if he knew what any of the writing meant while you continued to joy a few things down.

"don't try anything, the walls are literally made of glass," you said unbothered without taking your attention off of the work in front of you.

from beside you trent mocked an expression of hurt, offended that you'd accuse him of coming here just to do something. "I wasn't going to. I came here because I just happened to be walking by after our gym session," he answered, the lie dripping off his tongue effortlessly and you gave him a look.

you didn't respond, instead becoming immersed in your work once again. the marker in your hand moved between the spaces of your fingers, a pout forming on your lips as you concentrated.

don't get him wrong, trent found it extremely attractive that you were in your element— your hair messily tied up, the marker in your hand spinning between your fingers and the look of determination on your face made him crazy. but he was just a man after all and wanted to spend some time with his... free trial user.

with a sigh he sat down at the desk, spinning aimlessly on the chair to try and cure his boredom. he hated this— referring to the lack of privacy in the room because the blinds were open. suddenly, he perked up at the sound of your voice, but to his dismay, you weren't talking to him and were on the phone with someone he didn't care about.

"yes, I'd like to keep them neutral but you can have a selection and we can test them out on the day of the shoot," you said and hurried back to the whiteboard to write something down.

the sound of the marker squeaking on the board made trent cringe, that and he wished that you'd just sit down for one second. when the call ended, you felt the his eyes on you, a look of judgement perhaps? but what did he expect? you were at work and had to get things done.

"someone's cranky," you joked while flipping through a binder.

he threw his head back with a scoff. "well yeah, you're not even looking at me. you probably don't even care that I'm here right now."

really now? you rolled your eyes at his exaggeration, a smile dancing on your lips. "a lot needs to be done before the end of the month unfortunately and I'm kind of in charge of that." you scrunched your nose at the last part, the feeling of admitting that you were in charge sending a weird surge through your body.

tent pursed his lips, his look softening at the way you continued to flip through the binder, mumbling to yourself about not finding something. "I know but--"

"--there aren't any 'buts'." you put your hands on your hips, sending him a stern look to showcase your point. "you're supposed to be focusing on recovering. it's already an issue that you won't be playing sunday, we need you fit for the last few games of the season at least."

the room fell silent again, slight tension building up but you didn't care because it was the truth. it wasn't just him— it was curtis, darwin, mo and dominik as well. a few of their most crucial players were injured and unfortunately that make their chances of winning slimmer. and as excited as everyone was to play on sunday— the kids included even if they only got about five minutes of playtime, but this was still a final.

the coaching staff was agitated, virgil didn't know how if the chelsea squad were going to put up a fight and the injured players were beating themselves up. it wasn't an easy time for anyone right now, but they needed to focus. and right now, it seemed that trent wasn't getting the message.

it was unlike him, and you could see from the way that his leg anxiously bounced up and down that he knew that. so as much as you needed to reprimand him and remind him of what needed to be done, you could also tell that he wasn't okay.

with a sigh, you put down your things and went to lock the office door and close the blinds. the room was encapsulated in slight darkness again, prompting you to switch on the overhead lights that weren't needed earlier on.

trent remained quiet though, even when you came to sit down on the table in front of him. you looked down at him, the footballer leaning back in the chair.

"talk to me, what's bothering you?" your voice was laced with genuine worry and it made him ease into his seat further.

"nothing's wrong. I just wanted to see you but I guess it's a bad time." he plainly shrugged his shoulders, a look of mock dismissal on his face.

you quirked an eyebrow at his answer. "that's the worst lie you could've come up with right now." despite your targeted response you gently took his hand into yours and prompted him to speak. "is it because you're benched for the rest of the month?"

"yes and no," he said, looking up at you. "yes because I let the team down when they need all the help they can get. this is important to all of us and ever since my stupid knee happened I've been acting up."

he didn't need to mention it, but he was referring to the match against burnley where he was subbed off at halftime. you knew that it took a toll on his confidence, both on and off the pitch. there wasn't much you could do unfortunately besides comfort him.

"don't look at me like that," he groaned and leant forward to rest his head on your thigh, the embarrassment sinking in. "I sound so emotional, my ego is buried six feet under right now."

you stifled a laugh at his retort and let your hands run gently up and down his back. "it's okay. I'll ask harvey to pick it up for you, it's not a problem for him."

trent couldn't help but laugh, the feeling of his fingers trialing your thigh sent a shiver through your body. the two of you held that position for a bit longer, the feeling of being near each other enough to ease your respective anxiety.

"you're going to get better okay?" you said softly and he hummed in response. "whatever happens, happens but you need to do what you can. that's all that matters, so for now you're going to be the best bench warmer ever and support your team."

it was the day of the efl final and the team was ready— standing ready with their mascots at their sides in the tunnel that you were running through to make some last minute checks.

maya messaged earlier on in the day to say that they'd be at the match today and you couldn't wait to see them again after such a long time, especially alex who was apparently extremely excited to be here.

today more than ever you wore your liverpool jersey proudly only to be called out for wearing it by a familiar face. you just finished wishing the team goodluck when a chelsea player caught your attention in the line beside you.

you eyes rolled at the sound of the voice but you turned to look at him nonetheless, the smile on your lips slightly forced. "colwill."

levi put out his hand for you to take into a friendly handshake, a cheeky smile on his face as he looked you up and down. "It's always weird to see you in anything other than blue. you switching sides for the day?"

the backhanded comment was obviously a joke, it was natural for the two of you to have banter like this despite the fact that it had been years since you last talked to each other. from the line beside you, harvey was shamelessly watching the back and forth.

it made no sense to him that you always knew someone. in every situation and match of theirs, there was always someone that you knew.

you scrunched your nose at levi, not liking the idea of wearing a chelsea jersey. "we'll leave those blue days of mine at the academy thanks. good luck for today though, you're going to need it."

levi stifled a laugh at your goodbye and watched as you left the tunnel, old memories flooding back but never staying.

"academy?" harvey asked out loud, not meaning for levi to hear but he did and nodded. when he told harvey that you played for the chelsea academy before you left london it raised some intrigue amongst the reds on his side.

judging by their facial expressions he could tell that it wasn't something you liked to talk about. "she got called up a bunch of times for the first team but never took the offer. first time around she was 15."

there was no other reaction from harvey other than an irritated groan, his head shaking to the side as they started to make their way out of the tunnel. "she's lived 100 lives I'm telling you."

from behind him, andy hurriedly shushed him, the laugh barely staying inside because of the strange encounter. but harvey was right— it felt like you've lived 100 lives because there was a piece of you everywhere, a piece of you imprinted within the memory of so many people.

"the carter effect," harvey mumbled to himself with slight distaste as he stood in his position on the pitch waiting for the whistle to blow.

agonising. that's how you'd describe the first of the match. it was like a game of tennis— back and forth but the team was showing resilience against chelsea and their 10 man defence strategy. the man to man marking made you want to scream, because this was not the strategy of a team that knew that they were going to win.

"fucking cowards," you muttered under your breath and jayden danns— one of the kids who were newer to the first team bench, gave you a look.

feeling his judgemental gaze on your side you looked at him with widened eyes, gesturing to the pitch. "it's the truth. you can't play football like this, it's disgraceful."

from the seat beside you, bobby clark, another one of the children (as you liked to call them) spoke up and asked you about how long the chelsea squad could play defence. there wasn't a definite answer on your side as you sat with your hand on your chin in thought.

eventually, it had all the kids in thought, all five of the boys that you were looking after watching with determined eyes to see if there was a break in chelsea's defence.

"the only forward who they're expecting to score is palmer," james said and you scoffed, the rest of the bench chiming in to talk about cole palmer's recent performance and how it's been saving chelsea a ton.

spamjam._. added to their story!

amongst the chatter, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. the name that popped up on your notification center made you smile— trent who was sitting in the stands with the rest of the injured players.

the last few minutes of the first half played out in a way that had your blood boiling. conor who was starting in trent's position today was playing exceptionally well for his first official start for the team, but someone else saw that as a threat apparently.

one shove from ben chilwell on conor had you out of your seat in an instant. the two players managed to fall on top of each other because of conor's honest tackle, and ben chilwell saw it as a challenge for something more.

seconds away from half time and a fight was about to break out and naturally the liverpool players tried to stop it, with a few players feeling provoked (cody and harvey). luckily it was broken up before anyone got seriously hurt, but by then you were already on the touchline alongside jurgen waiting to jump in.

the half-time whistle blew and you watched with distaste as they walked into the tunnel. instead of going up to the press room like you normally would, you decided to take a quick trip into the stands where the injured players were. you were alone today, and for another 4 months because clara was officially on maternity leave.

she was nearly 5 months into her pregnancy, but you still couldn't get behind your stupidity and not noticing any sooner. the signs were blatantly obvious but you thought it was normal— the loose clothing, strange cravings and her mood swings were nothing out of the ordinary.

she was doing well though, and was staying with her parents for the time being or at least until the season was over so that she could go back home with mason. at least she had stability, that's what mattered most.

"nice of you to visit us," curtis sarcastically greeted as you stood on the outside of the barricade. "I see the boys are treating you well."

it was clear that he was mocking you so you flashed him a tight lip smile. what the kids were doing was asking you questions about anything that came to mind— why you decided to work in marketing? was it true that you and trent were dating? (which you denied obviously)? who would win in a fight, a shark or a tiger? and funny enough you recalled jobe asking you the same question a while ago.

"a shark or a tiger?" he asked with a challenging smile.

your eyebrows furrowed and you looked at jude next to you, who shared the same expression of confusion. "well where's the fight happening?" you asked jobe who made it clear that he didn't like the follow up question.

he pulled a face at you, "what do you mean where's the fight?"

his question left you and jude speechless, his older brother trying to prompt his understanding of the situation further but jobe was stubborn and didn't care about the logistics of the scenario.

"it depends on where the fight is," jude said and you nodded. "they live in different environments entirely so it matters."

jobe rolled his eyes at the question, almost as of it were ridiculous. his shoulders tensed up and he leant forward on the chair he was sitting on. "yeah, but who would win the fight, this isn't about the environment."

you stifled a laugh, in further disbelief. "jobe where is the fight? where is it happening?"

"that's not the point!"

you couldn't stay to chat long to trent's dismay. he couldn't even hold your hand and the look of despair on his face said it all. but you agreed on keeping it on the low, no physical contact in public because there were always cameras around.

you flashed him a smile and waved before heading back to the bench just in time. a sigh of exhaustion leaving your lips at the thought of another 45 minutes of back and forth.

it was around the 60' minute when something built up, having you on the edge of your seat and holding your hands together in prayer and desperation until the ball finally hit the back of the net. however your rejoice didn't last long because once again, the referee was checking for offside.

you stood with your hands in the air in shock, utter hatred for the decision alone. "that wasn't offside at all! what the fuck kind of decision is this?"

the rage and irritation in your tone only grew when the referee called it, your scream drowning out in the sea of groans from the supporters. if it wasn't for james then you probably would have gone up to the stewards yourself to complain.

this was nothing new for the team though, and it was evident in their unimpressed expressions as they got back into position again. you carried on complaining for quite a bit after that— if there was one thing that you hated, then it was cheaters and liars. there was no reason to call the goal offside.

not too far away in the stands trent had his attention on you, an amused smile dancing on his lips as you complained to the other players on the bench— exaggerating your movements and explaining further, your blood boiling.

curris noticed him watching and teasingly nudged his arm. "talk about passionate."

he was right, your passion for the sport was never something you tried to minimise or hold back and that was something that trent found extremely attractive. you were always standing along the touchline with your hands on your head in distraught or leaping from your seat when they scored.

this was a first for trent— his past girlfriends who attended his games usually sat in the family booth and watched from afar, possibility not knowing what was actually happening on the pitch. but the idea of having you so close to him on the once place that he felt the most at home made his heart race.

close, both literally and figuratively— you'd be on the touchline, at most of his games because it was your job but also because you shared the passion for the sport and that meant more than anything to him. the fact that he could share what made him whole, with his partner.

"saffie's at home watching peacefully," curtis then shook his head as he watched you talk to conor who was subbed off, probably complaining again. "and this beast is picking a fight with the stewards."

trent stifled a laugh at his retort, stopping himself to try and listen in on what you were telling conor who was nodding along.

"exactly! I would have thrown him to the floor, conor. you're weak my boy." you pat him on the shoulder reassuringly, causing curtis to throw his head back in laughter.

20 minutes and two yellow cards later, the score was still tied at 0-0. the thought of the match falling into added time made you nauseous, because at the rate anything could happen. with a hand on your forehead you sunk further into your seat, all hope lost as the kids put on their jerseys.

"save us. please." your voice was meek and desperate causing the three of them to laugh, watching as the sub board went up. "I believe in you!"

when the final whistle blew for a short break before the added extra time you got up from your seat and paced up and down to loosen the tension in your legs. jurgen was huddled with the team, strategizing but you weren't too sure what he could possible be telling them.

personally you would have told them to break the chelsea players' legs. or at least try and play a bit rougher but there was nothing you could do except sit and watch. the kids were doing well luckily, and you did a headcount oh how many of them were on the pitch.

4. there were 4 first team players on that pitch and the rest were the club's academy kids going up against a full cheslea squad in a cup final. it was jaw dropping to witness this in person.

when jurgen came over for some water you asked him what the strategy was, to which he just shrugged with a smile. "I told them to have fun. just kick the ball until it hits the back of the net."

you blinked up at him for a moment, the answer a surprise to you but it made sense. there was nothing better that could have been done, so instead you started to pray and manifest, begging the universe for a goal or at least an opportunity.

with your lips pursed you looked up to the timer above the pitch, the big 116 mocking the players on the pitch. there was 4 minutes left and chelsea's management decided that it was a good time to make a substitution. obviously it was to waste time, but even then it was a stupid idea.

the players on the pitch were out of breath, virgil had swear dripping down his forehead and a look of complete exhaustion hiding behind his blank stare. what a way to make people suffer.

it wad the last corner of the match probably and tsimikas was up to take it. naturally you got up again seeing as this was probably going to penalties which you were confident enough in.

with hopeless eyes your eyes followed the ball as it crossed into the penalty area where the players were showing each other, trying to make way for a header. the stadium held it's breath, everyone's hope deep in the dirt until virgil managed to get a touch on the ball just enough that it successfully hit the back of the net.

it happened so quickly but the adrenaline eventually kicked in and you were being pulled into a hug from jurgen. on the other end of the pitch, virgil was sprawled on the floor, the boys surrounding him and laying beside him. it was all over once the final whistle blew seconds later and you heard the bustling noise from behind you.

darwin came running down the steps, pushing curtis to the side as he leapt over the barricade and onto the pitch in excitement with the staff. it was all too much, the overwhelming feelings of anxiety and excitement whirling inside of you.

you were left speechless, nothing more to say than. "how the fuck?"

the celebration was nothing short of heartwarming, but the feeling of watching the chelsea players leaving the stadium without saying a word was a better feeling.

"maybe you should actually try and score next time," you said with a teasing smile directed at levi who was heading towards you up the stairs with the rest of his team. "instead of standing as if you were the great wall of china."

all he did was shake his head and gave you a friendly pat on the shoulder as be walked past, before quickly turning back. "I still think you look better in blue though."

you stifled a laugh, not bothering to answer and instead made your way to the pitch where the banner was set up to take a few pictures before they came down to sing the anthem with their proudly adorned medals and trophy.

while they did all that you made a quick run up to stands, eagerly minding your way until maya, noah and alex were in the clear. the excitement on alex's face was enough for you, a proud feeling of warmth spreading through your chest.

"how was it buddy? did you have fun?" you asked and pulled him into a tight hug.

the younger boy nodded happily, going on about how scared he was and how he really wanted ice cream during the match because it was "super intense". when the time came you bid them goodbye and headed back down to take some pictures.

a fond smile formed on your face at the sight of the academy players, the group immediately making their way over to you with their medals and bombarding you with excited comments.

"I can't believe I nearly scored twice," jayden said with widened eyes, still in disbelief as he held up two fingers. "that's more than once and I just got here."

"which means that you better score soon, the season is nearly over." you lightly punched his arm, the group of academy players following you through the crowd of staff on the pitch.

once again james forced a sarcastic laugh, looking to jayden with his eyes narrowed. "well I just got here too and got booked 3 minutes in. I literally breathed."

not long after that, the photographers called all the academy players together for a group photograph and you took a step back and watched. but your attention was promptly caught by trent leisurely strolling beside dominik and mo.

with a smile you waved him over and suggested that he joined the picture since he was an academy graduate as well. he wasn't too sure at first but he eventually cut in.

after a few pictures your eyes squinted. "what's he doing here?" your question was directed at harvey who was seated on the floor, his face melted in irration as you spoke to him.

"I could ask you the same thing," he shot back and you nearly responded but the group dispersed, everyone going their own way as the celebration wrapped up.

naturally, you joined trent in his little stroll but made sure there was enough space between the two of you so no suspicion would be raised.

even though you were talking normally for the most part, it physically pained him that he couldn't even hold your hand. he gap between your bodies made him cringe, and what made it worse was that this was the first time that he's ever felt this needy or desperate to be close to someone.

but as you were talking to him now, the stadium still full of supporters while you stood in the middle of it all, he felt the desperation panging at his chest.

"bro are you seriously zoning out again?" you asked with a sigh. "this is the fourth time today-- and yes I'm counting."

"well sorry." he lifted his hands into the air in defence. "It's not my fault that my heart is in actual pain because I have to treat you like a normal friend in public."

your eyes rolled at his exaggeration, his dramatics being nothing new especially about this topic. "we aren't officially together yet so we can't do anything about it. calm down, loverboy."

normally this would be the part where he'd kiss you so that you'd shut up but trent had to bite his tongue today, and instead just nodded. it was the harsh truth unfortunately and as much as he loved private relationships, he wanted to show you off. he wanted the world to know that you were his.

but for the first time in a while he'd have to be patient.

spamjam._.

liked by judebellingham and 3 223 122 others

spamjam._. my kids dawg!! 🏆❤️ (and those other grandpa's too)

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liverpoolfc red suites you so much more 🫶 [liked by spamjam._.]

→ spamjam._. say it louder for the people in the back 👏 @levicolwill

user ??? oh the dramaaaa

user 120 minutes of torture that I refuse to relive

bobbyclark can't believe that I made it onto the profile 😫

→ spamjam._. watch me crop you out.

→ jayden.danns @bobbyclark I'm the one who got the photocreds on her story 🥱 lower your tone in my presence

→ jamesmconnel and I got booked for breathing 😒

→ spamjam._. james that was a clear tackle?? you got booked for a reason 😭

→ jamesmcconnell yeah for breathing!!

virgilvandijk you should've gotten a medal for being the best cheerleader today 🥇[liked by spamjam._.]

→ spamjam._. aahhh!! I'm so glad my efforts were noticed

→ curtisjr you were screaming at the refs and nearly barged into the stewards room 🤨

→ spamjam._. which is more than you did today benchboy

mosalah grandpas? 😔

→ spamjam._. your leg is broken, so yes. grandpa's 😔

[next!!] [previous!!]

#cherrei writes #afterglow trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold fluff #trent alexander arnold fanfic #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold imagine #trent alexander arnold #footballer imagine #liverpool fc #footballer x reader #football imagine #fanfic #liverpoolfc x reader #liverpo

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charliemwrites · 10 months

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idek how many days it's been at this point but I cannot keep the Keeper/Kept worms at bay and they have wormed into a childhood memory of mine that I think fits this au soooo well!

When I was a smol bean (2 or 3 I think) my father was actually active duty special operations (flew on the same gunship Shadow Company uses for close air support, and was assigned to the real-life squadron that flys the "spooky's"/AC-130H frequently referenced in the CoD universe. bit of personal lore lol). ANYWAY the first time my dad deployed after I was born I snuck one of my baby socks into his big green duffel bag while he was packing and when he found it and showed his squadron?!?! For the rest of their tour of duty they WOULD NOT clear the gunship for takeoff unless my dad showed them he had my little sock in his flight suit because his entire squadron had made it their good luck charm for missions. I think this is 1000% something Feral, Shy Thing and Good Girl/Boy would do for their keepers and all the keepers/team would all absolutely cary whatever they had snuck into their bag with them RELIGIOUSLY on missions.

Okay first of all??? This is utterly adorable and I could CRY. Thank you for sharing that lore it’s going to live in my head rent FREE. I love stuff like that.

As for little tokens?!

For Simon, it’s a rock that Feral gave him after a penguin documentary (per this ask). But I could also see her biting him hard enough to leave a bruise that lasts, something that he can’t lose somehow but fades. When it’s gone it means he needs to come home. He presses on it when he misses her.

For Johnny, the red mask is one. Shy Thing has written a little message on the inside in marker something like “I love you” or “come home safe” with her initials. I can also see her crafting a little soap bar charm that he has to put with his dog tags or belt or something.

Good Girl has sewn/embroidered something in his hat. A flower, a heart, her initials, maybe a cigar. The other thing is a lighter that she built from a kit and hand-engraved painstakingly. Even if he hasn’t brought his cigars on the mission, he has the lighter.

#asks #thoughts™️#cod #keeper/kept au #keeper ghost #keeper johnny #keeper price

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evan4ever · 2 years

Text

Masterlist

Requests are open but please be patient and remember that I may not be comfortable writing one or able to put a specific request together if I don’t seem to share yours. It’s nothing personal, I’m trying my very best!

Evan Peter character ships are currently CLOSED

Leave a comment if you’d like to be on the tag list!

Evan Peters

Vegas, baby part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11 *** links aren’t working correctly!! Trying to fix them

Unlikely lovers, part 2, part 3

Lazy sex

Tease

Cramps

Please

Baby just say yes

7up & saltines

For the single moms

I Don’t Share

NSFW Alphabet

Kit Walker

Special treatment part 1, part 2

Deal

Comfort

Forgive me

Bruised

Let Her Go

A lie for me

Long day

I’m here (TW)

Scarred

Kai Anderson

Why Do I Love You?

All I needed

Better than me

Sick

James Patrick March

For eternity

Innocence

Tate Langdon

You’re so pretty, it hurts

Kyle Spencer

Sick Boy

Don’t let me fool you

Warren Lipka

I didn’t know where else to go

Aftercare

If you love me

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ashthewaterghoul · 19 days

Text

Fall For Them - A Rain Ghoul One Shot

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Gen, Rain/whoever the fuck he’s decided to murder this month

Tags: Murder ghouls, syren!rain, they/them Rain, gn!Rain, death, cautionary tale sort of, Song: Fall For Me (Sleep Token).

Words: 1,152

When someone new comes to the Abbey, the receive a lot of rules and instructions. But none more stressed than this, Do NOT go near the river on the full moon. In fact, do not go out at all. Remain indoors with the windows and doors shut and locked. To those stupid or unfortunate enough to disobey the rules and warnings, they may wander out at night and hear a lone song in the distance.

A/n: I change like one lyric at the end but it fits so oh well lol. Any feedback is welcomed and appreciated <3.

~~~

On any other day of the year, the river is fine. It’s the usual spot for Water Ghouls to gather, to swim, soak and bask in their element. As long as you don’t disturb them, they won’t disturb you. It’s their domain, their pride and joy so all respect what they want. One thing they want, however, they are rarely granted with the Clergy’s blessing. Only on rare occasions that trespassers or those up to no good wander onto the property do they get want they want. That thirst that pops up on the full moon.

Just like they tidal pools they’re born into, a Water Ghoul’s cycle is controlled by the phases of the moon. A new moon is when they are most clear of mind, and it’s when they make bigger, important decisions like leaving their birth pods, choosing a mate, bearing kits etc. As the lunar phases go on, they become more protective, shorter tempered. Until they are left with a fine string of patience on the full moon.

They yearn by then, and all in the Abbey know to leave the Water Ghouls be because in their fugue-like states of desperation they are more than capable of bringing even the most stoic of Ghouls to their demises. It’s a good thing that this Ministry has the Ghost project because the soundproofing in the studio finds its way out to all the doors and windows and corridors.

To those stupid or unfortunate enough to disobey the rules and warnings, they may wander out at night and hear a lone song in the distance.

Read below the cut or on ao3

“In a city of ice there are burning cathedrals, Turning the skies into glass. And though echoing futures are the buckling sutures, That hold shut the wounds of the past."

It feels like it’s being sung just for them, pulled from their very soul and exactly what the weak resolve of a human needs to hear to be lured in. They feel understood in a level that reverberates deep in their soul. They feel seen. While it may feel like they’ve been especially chosen, they will never know just how special they aren’t.

“So won't you fall for me? Won't you fall for me? Through a fractured existence, Won't you fall for me? Won't you fall for me From reality? To the rhythm of eternity, Won't you fall for me?”

And how could anyone say no to that.

“My insecurities surround me like lions in the den, And I feel like I'm losing touch with what I am again. And slowly I remember why I cannot pretend That I never think of you in all this screaming silence.

Oh God I wish you were here!”

A Ghoul might just be able to resist, at the very least stop their feet moving to the lake, to fight against the yearning projected onto them and times by ten. But the humans are powerless to resist a Syren’s song. And as one human shall find out tonight, a Syren will not care for innocence, for morals, for character. Only a breathing, bleeding heart in front of them, and a soul to snuff out.

“So won't you fall for me? Won't you fall for me? Through a fractured existence, Won't you fall for me? Won't you fall for me From reality? To the rhythm of eternity Won't you fall for me?”

As a human gets closer to the voice, they lose all autonomy. No matter how loud that one little shred in the back of their mind screams to turn tail and run, they never will.

Tonight, they’ll see Rain poised with their arms on the dock, the rest of their body hanging down into the water below. Smiling fiendishly as the human draws nearer, sharklike teeth on full display. Rain is the most captivating of any of the Water Ghouls, their skin a calming grey illuminated by bioluminescent dots and lines, their eyes a hypnotising teal, their song most deadly, its tentacles constrict around any soul and never let go, not until all light is gone.

“Won't you fall for me? Won't you fall for me? With my love as your garden, Won't you fall for me?”

This human practically runs into the water, desperate to be with the Syren. Rain’s metres-long tail, adorned with sparkling blue and black scales, coils around the human’s legs as the fluke wraps around and binds their ankles. They’re too entranced to noticed how barbs poke through the scales, digging into their flesh and holding them there.

“Won't you fall for me From reality?”

As Rain brings them both under the water, ruffling gills adding to their beauty, they lift their spell for one moment. One glorious moment when the fear of the human’s doom coats their face. They realise the hundreds of barbs holding them in place that only dig in deeper as they struggle, the burn in their lungs for oxygen that they’ll never get and the self-pity for being so foolish to ignore the warnings.

The spell gets put back after that and Rain gets drunk on it, revels in how they go lax and completely give in to their doom, whether they want to or not.

“You are mine in the end So won't you fall for me?”

Rain drinks it in just how they drink in the blood of their prey. Taking what they want, flesh and blood and bone, claiming another soul before offering the rest the other Water Ghouls. As much as they don’t want to, it has to be done. It’s a sign of respect to share the bounty and a way to keep the peace. If they didn’t do it, they wouldn’t live to lure and ensnare another soul. While being the most alluring of the several Syrens in the Abbey, they aren’t the strongest. Not yet, at least. As soon as they’ve dethroned the strongest, they can keep the body for all they want.

Rain is practically high on the blood in their gills, though, and they start swimming around themself in delight at another successful full moon. The Clergy never dare punish the Water Ghouls for their violence lest they put a target on their own backs, the next song truly being one for their own soul to hear. Rain relishes in that hold they have, without even needing to sing a single note.

A look above the surface of the water tells them there’s enough time to try for a few more souls to claim. Maybe this time they’ll sing for their Jolly Sailor Bold. That soul is sure to be delicious.

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