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sailor-aviator · 8 months

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Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter One

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter One

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.

Trigger warnings: Alcohol consumption, Sassy Bob, Flirty Bradley, Supernatural elements, Siren calls. I think that's it?

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: Here is chapter one!! I hope you enjoy this story as much as I am enjoying writing it lol I'm so excited to continue this one. Just a quick reminder to you all that I will be out of town Wednesday-Saturday, so I'm not sure how much I'll be able to update as I will be attending a wedding! As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated! 18+ ONLY!! You can also follow me on AO3 under sailor_aviator where I will be posting updates as well!

Series Masterlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

You crossed the bridge to North Island a few hours later, the sun hanging low in the sky, but not quite to the point of setting. You marveled at the expanse of water that stretched on beneath you as you drove.

“Not sure why the founders wanted to settle way the hell out here,” Bob grumbled beside you. “We’re too small to even have a damn Walmart.”

“Walmart is overrated,” you told him, turning the radio down. “Besides, small towns are so cute!”

“Not when you’re forced to live there every day,” Bob retorted with a roll of his eyes. You rolled your eyes back at him, repositioning Rusty who still sat on your lap.

“You’re too close to it to see all the charm it has to offer.”

“I give it two weeks before you eat those words,” he smirked. You reached over to smack his shoulder lightly, and he looked over at you in mock shock. “Don’t hit the driver!”

“Well, maybe the driver shouldn’t be such a cynic,” you teased, leaning back. Bob chuckled as the car reached the other side of the bay, passing the crowded beaches. “Does North Island get a lot of tourists?”

“Only during the summertime, really,” he replied. “It’s a calm, quiet little town with white beaches and pretty views all over the island. The founders have really played into the local legends over the years, so we have a lot of souvenir shops dedicated to those.”

“What local legends?” you asked him, quirking a brow. Bob flushed, the tips of his ears turning a bright red.

“It’s dumb,” he grumbled, but you were listening intently now.

The two of you drove through the downtown area, people milling about and enjoying the end of the summer day. The dinner crowd was beginning to pick up and you could hear the music blaring from several different buildings.

“No, come on,” you grinned. “You can’t drop that little tidbit and then not tell me.”

“Alright, fine,” he sighed, glancing at you. “For as long as the town has been around, there have been stories of…things in the water.”

“What do you mean? Like a really big fish or something?”

He shifted in his seat, turning down a side road that led away from town.

“I mean,” he hummed, “things like mermaids.”

You laughed at that, and Bob grimaced. “I told you it was dumb,” he muttered.

“No, no,” you giggled. “It’s cute, really. I love mermaids!”

He rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t if you grew up surrounded by them.”

“There you go being all cynical again,” you scowled. “I would have killed to live somewhere like this with such fun local legends.”

Bob pulled down a gravel driveway and past a grouping of trees. You saw a grand, white house perched at the edge of the hill overlooking the water. A porch wrapped around both the first and second floor, and you saw a path lead down the hill towards the beach.

“I’m glad one of us is excited to be here,” he chuckled, coming to a stop on the blacktop as you stared at the large house in front of you.

“You live here?” You asked, looking over at him in shock.

Bob had the decency to look sheepish as he turned off the car. “Yeah, this is home.”

At that moment, a small, blonde woman opened the door with a wide grin. She rushed out onto the porch as a burly, spectacled man stepped out behind her. Bob opened his door, and you followed suit. Susan Floyd rushed down the steps and up towards you, wrapping you in a warm hug before turning to give her son a matching one. Richard Floyd gave you a warm smile as he clapped his son on the back.

“You two must be exhausted after that drive,” Susan cooed, ushering you into the house as the two men moved to get your luggage out of the car. You smiled warmly at her and allowed her to lead you into the house.

“I’m not too tired,” you told her as she sat you down in a stool by the island in the kitchen. It was a spacious room, opening up into the dining room. A set of glass doors led out onto the back porch, the ocean sitting front and center in the beautiful view of the beach below.

“That’s good,” she hummed, stirring the pot on the stove. “Are you hungry, sweetie? I made some of my special spaghetti. It’s Bobby’s favorite, you know.”

Bob groaned as he stepped into the kitchen with his father. “Mom, I’ve told you. It’s not Bobby, it’s Bob.”

Susan smiled at the younger man affectionately. “Yes, of course dear. Were you hungry?”

“Starved, actually,” he smiled, plopping down in the seat next to you. Susan began piling noodles and sauce onto two different plates before setting them down in front of the two of you. Bob uttered a thanks before shoveling a healthy fork full into his mouth. You giggled, watching as he ate like he hadn’t eaten in months. You took a much smaller bite than he had, humming at how good the sauce tasted. It had a hint of red wine that pulled out the flavors of the garlic and herbs.

“How’s it taste?” she smiled at you, leaning against the counter.

“Ifs delisus,” Bob said through a mouthful of noodles. She scowled at him before throwing a napkin at him.

“Don’t talk with your mouthful,” she scolded before turning to look at you expectantly. You chuckled before nodding your agreement.

“It’s delicious, Mrs. Floyd.”

“No, none of that,” she scowled. “Call me Susan.”

“Yes, Susan,” you smiled. She smiled at you before turning to clean up the rest of the kitchen. Bob inhaled his first plate of spaghetti, and Susan was quick to load his plate up with more.

“Has Bob told you any of the town’s history yet, y/n?” Richard asked you from his spot at the dining room table. Bob groaned, hiding his face in his hands as you smiled.

“He told me about the mermaid legends,” you grinned. You saw Susan pause out of the corner of your eye as Richard gave you a wry smile.

“I don’t know if I would call them mermaids,” he mused, giving a pointed look at his son who refused to meet his gaze. “But our town has a long, storied history, yes.”

“Oh?” You asked, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

Richard hummed, leaning back in his chair. “No, mermaid is an insulting term for what these creatures are. They’re fierce hunters, preying these waters with deadly accuracy. Sometimes they even hunt on land.”

“What do you mean?” You frowned. Susan gave him a warning look, but he continued.

“They say these creatures come out of the depths to prey on humans on the land, dragging them into the depths never to be seen again.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Susan snapped at him, Richard giving her an apologetic look. “I don’t want to hear any more of that nonsense tonight. Why don’t you make yourself useful and go take out the trash?”

Richard heaved a sigh, standing to obey her. He passed you with a wink, dropping a hand to your shoulder.

“I’m sure you have nothing to worry about, y/n,” he smiled, turning to head out the door. Susan sighed, turning to look at you once she heard the door close behind him.

“I’m sorry about him,” she grumbled, shooting a glare at where her husband had just disappeared. “He loves those crazy stories. Don’t even pay him any mind, okay?”

“I don’t mind!” You assured her. “I think it’s all very interesting. The most anyone talks about where I’m from is Bigfoot.”

“As much as I would love to hear you go on your bigfoot theories tirade again,” Bob spoke up, rolling his eyes. “I thought you might want to go out tonight.”

“Bobby, I’m sure she’s tired,” his mother started, but you shook your head, turning excitedly to look at your best friend.

“No, it’s fine!” You chirped. “I think it would be fun to go out and get to see the sites. Where did you have in mind?”

“I was thinkin’ I could take you down to the Hard Deck,” he mused.

Susan rolled her eyes at him. “You want to take her to a bar of all things?”

“Why not? The gang is going to be there tonight, I already texted them to make sure. They’re anxious to meet her.”

Susan seemed to brighten at that. “Oh, you’ll love’em, y/n! They’re such a good group of kids, and I just know they’ll love you too.”

“So we have your blessing then?” Bob joked, earning another scowl.

“Yes, you kids go out and have a good time, but don’t be out too late! I think your father said something about wanting to take the boat out tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, ma’am!” He mock saluted, earning a smack to the top of his head this time. You chuckled at the two of them as Bob rubbed the back of his head. He turned to look at you with a scowl at your obvious amusement. “C’mon, I’ll show you your room.”

The night was warm despite the cool breeze blowing in through the window from the ocean, and you chalked it up to the densely populated bar you now found yourself sitting in. You had followed Bob inside, having to grab his hand in order to keep from getting separated amongst the crowd.

“Bob!”

You turned to see a group of five seated at a large table on the far wall next to the patio. The only woman in the group raised her hand to grab his attention, and Bob eagerly dragged you over to them.

“Hey, college boy,” grinned a tanned man with long, curly hair that was slicked back. “How’s it hangin’?”

“More importantly,” said the dark-skinned man across from him, looking at you, “who’s your friend?”

“Guys, this is y/n, my best friend from Duke,” he gestured to you with a grin. “Y/n, this is Mickey, Reuben, Natasha, Javy, and Bradley.”

Each of them waved to you at the mention of their name, and you waved back with a small smile. The mustached one, Bradley, grinned up at you before shuffling over on the bench.

“Ain’t no need to be shy, sunshine,” he winked at you, gesturing to the now open seat next to him. “We’re all friends here.”

You sat down slowly next to him, Bob scooting onto the bench across from you and next to Natasha.

“So, y/n,” she smiled, leaning forward with intrigue clear in her eyes, “where you from?”

“Oh, I’m from Missouri,” you smiled at her.

“Missouri?” Mickey snorted, earning a ribbing from Javy. You chuckled, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Yeah, it’s not glamorous or anything, but it’s home,” you explained.

Reuben leaned around Bradley to look at you. “So you were in the same major as Bob, right? How did you even get into that?”

“Oh, I’ve always had a fascination with the sea, I guess. Felt like I might have been a mermaid in another life,” you joked, and the group chuckled, earning a look from Bob as you looked around uncertainly. “Did I say something funny?”

“Nah, sunshine,” Bradley grinned. “It’s just cute is all. Imagine you being a little mermaid.”

“In fairness, I was five,” you blushed, and he reached down to pinch your cheek gently.

“Don’t go gettin’ shy on us again,” he drawled. Javy rolled his eyes, taking a sip from the glass of beer in front of him.

“You’re almost putting Jake to shame right now,” he chuckled, causing Mickey and Reuben to both snort. Bob looked around the bar, brow furrowing.

“Speaking of, where is he?” He asked the rest of the group. Bradley let out a low chuckle, resting his arm behind you as Natasha rolled her eyes at the name.

“Mandy has been especially clingy, as of late,” Reuben frowned, peering towards the bar with a pointed look. Bob turned, frowning at what he saw. “Been dropping hints left and right for weeks. She barely leaves his side.”

“Well, yeah,” Bradley scoffed, taking a swig from his bottle. “I’m not surprised since it’s almost time for-”

Natasha cleared her throat, giving a pointed glance to you.

“Almost time for what?” you asked, looking around at the table. No one said a thing, giving small glares at Bradley who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He cleared his throat and looked down at you, an easy smile spreading across his face.

“I just noticed that you don’t have a drink, sunshine,” he said. “Why don’t you come with me to the bar, and I’ll get you something?”

You gave one last look around the table before nodding slowly. “Yeah, okay. I could use a drink.”

You stood, Bradley close behind you, and you looked over at Bob. “You’re usual?”

“Please,” he said, giving you a tight lipped smile. You returned it softly, following Bradley up to the bar.

“Bradley,” hummed the older woman behind the bar, green eyes narrowing in on him as she saw you next to him.

“Penny,” he smirked, leaning against the counter. She walked over to the two of you, placing a hand on her hip as she frowned at him.

“What can I get you?” She asked him.

“Two beers and?” He turned to you, eyebrow raised.

“A jack and coke, please,” you smiled at her. She returned the gesture warmly, moving to make your drink.

“You best be careful around this one, honey,” she drawled, eyeing the man next to you. “He has a habit of goin’ around breaking hearts.”

“Penny, you wound me,” Bradley cried in mock hurt, gaping mouth quickly turning into another grin. He shot you a wink. “I would never do that to sunshine here.”

Penny snorted, handing him two beers and you your glass. “Right. You’re no better than Seresin over here.”

She jerked her head to the other side of the bar. You followed her gaze, seeing a blond man turn at the sound of his name. He glanced over to where Penny was looking at you and Bradley leaning up against the bar. He had an easy smirk on his face that rivaled Bradley’s, and when he turned his green eyes to you, you swear your heart stopped beating for a moment. His eyes were like sea glass, a frosty, almost moss colored green. It was like the world faded to black around you as you looked at him. You felt something that you could only describe as a tether snapping into place as his eyes bore into yours. If you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn his eyes started glowing as he continued to stare into the very depths of your soul.

“Y/n?”

Your eyes snapped to the side where Bradley was watching you worriedly. You shook the silly thoughts from your head. “I’m sorry, what?”

Bradley chuckled down at you, a hint of worry still tugging at his lips.

“I was just asking if you were ready to head back to the others?”

“Oh,” you trailed off, glancing back at the stranger across the bar. He was still staring at you, face unreadable. The brunette standing next to him looked very put out as he continued to ignore her.

“Jake!” She hissed at him, gripping his jaw and turning his face to look at her. “Are you listening to me?”

Jake looked down at her, a puzzled expression on his face. “Huh?”

“You are so dense sometimes,” she snapped, dropping her hand back to her side. The stranger, Jake, glanced back over at you, and the brunette followed his line of sight, scowling when she saw you. Bradley let out a low whistle before nudging you with his elbow playfully.

“Would sure hate to be him right about now,” he joked, an exaggerated grimace making you giggle. “Mandy is no joke when she’s pissed.”

“Jake!” Mandy shrieked. You chanced another look across the bar. Mandy looked like she was about to blow a fuse as she stared daggers between you and the man at her side. Said man was now frowning, eyes darting between you and Bradley. “I’m talking to you!”

“C’mon, sunshine,” Bradley said with a roll of his eyes at the couple across the bar. “If we stay any longer, I might lose my hearing.”

You followed him back to the table silently, still feeling the heavy weight of two green eyes on your back.

You slept with the window open that night, eager to feel the sea air on your skin as you slept. Your curtains billowed lightly as the moonlight poured into your room. You tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position to fall back asleep in. Your bed wasn’t uncomfortable, quite the opposite in fact, so you weren’t sure what had woken you up. You glanced at your phone, the numbers on the screen showing that it was far too early in the morning to still be awake. You huffed out a sigh, listening to the waves as they crashed against the shore below. That was when you heard it.

You weren’t sure what it was at first, it was so unlike anything you had ever experienced. It was a low hum that slowly turned into a lamentful cry amongst the breaking waves. You tossed your blankets back, quickly getting up and padding over to the window. The cry turned into what you could only describe as a song, not too dissimilar to one a whale would make, but this sounded almost…human? You peered out the window, heart racing as you continued to listen to the strange song. You felt a yearning unlike any other crescendo inside of you, calling to you from a distance almost like it wasn’t even your own. Your mind began to feel heavy, hazy with what, you weren’t sure. The song continued, calling to you, begging you to follow. Your eyes grew lidded, skin warm as you felt the call seep into your skin, drowning everything out but the inherent need to obey. You turned, taking a step towards your door.

A dog began to bark, causing you to jump and the song to stop. Shaking the cloudiness from your mind, you looked out the window once again. You caught sight of what you could only describe as a fish’s tail, silver scales gleaming in the moonlight, rising up before disappearing back beneath the waves.

#jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #top gun hangman #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman top gun #hangman x reader #hangman seresin #hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin imagine #siren au #mermaid au #mermaid!siren!jake #meet me at the sea #mmats

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katz-chow · 6 months

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of apple pies and bloody knives chapter one: a haze in the fields

warnings: pilot to slasher!graves x fem!reader, hallucinations, hauntings, paranoia

word count: 1,000

Amber waves of grains only applied to two parts of the United States, the Midwest, and Texas. Even with being one of the most well-known lines within American patriotism, one must see the image of urban life rather than endless fields of golden. Flat plains rolled by the windows of her small Chevy, the peaked window caused strands of brown hair to dance in the warm, late summer air. Over her shoulder in the back of the Impala, boxes of essentials clinked and clattered whenever the pavement proved to be porous

Sporadically hitting small towns on the way to her destination, fields turned into hills and then back to drier, rougher patches of empty land, a white dot of a house on the horizon. Orange clouds illuminated the sky as she turned on her lights, and a wave of dread washed over her. The rear view mirror showed nothing but sun-bleached tar and rocky hills behind her. For a pretty girl, even in the absence of men, she will never find peace, now or ever.

The familiar glow of a 7-11’s enthralled her like a moth to a flame, welcoming her back to civilization and the safety net of a crowd. The chill of a Montanan night shivered through her, arms tight on her chest as the wind whistled a soft tune. ‘No more than 20 minutes…’ She promised herself, stepping through the blast of air.

It didn’t even take 15 when she was back on the road again, tank full, bladder emptied, and switchblade thankfully still closed. Making good time, she started up her ending journey to Marburn, Montana. Never heard of it? Good. She checks the time on the dash of her car, ‘11:32 PM’ it read. It was late and late is always bad for a girl. She steps on the gas.

“How long you gon’ be here for, Sweetheart?” The extended-stay motel clerk asked as he thumbed the toothpick between his lips. The teal paint smothered the crackled walls behind him mixed with the fluorescent lights made him look greenish, hair flowing from the desk fan not escaping this effect either.

She fished for her credit card from her wallet and slid it across the counter to him, “Hopefully for a while, but let’s just say 2 weeks for now.”

Her eyes darted over his face, taking in his image just in case. His patchy stubble and tired eyes lent the appearance of a raccoon.

The man shrugged and swiped her card, a satisfying ding echoed from the machine. “$79 for the first week, then it’s $65 for the next, you got that?”

She continued to stare at him, her eyes empty and dead set on the space between his eyes, almost as if in a daze. “Yes, sir.” She whispered.

She took back her card from his hand and the small key to her room. The clock hit midnight as she tugged on her luggage into the damp and dingy motel room.

Locking the door behind her, she also closed the blinds, hanging up a tarp covering the windows as well. She hid. The room was small, with a bed, a pull-out couch, a bathroom, and a small kitchenette with a gas stove, fridge, and microwave. It was doable for the next few weeks, until she can confirm her work and boarding. That, however, was a task for the future. It all resembled a college dorm except if the student had paid extra to get a suite; she smiled just knowing she wasn’t back in that dump, but her smiled dropped into a thinned-lipped frown knowing she was never far from him.

She thought about the boxes of dishes and other necessities in the back seat of her car, debating on whether or not to risk the trip. Her fingers opened the blinds, face nearing in on the dust and eyes peaked between the plastic. Her eyes traveled to the white Chevy parked upfront, the diamond frame of her license plate peeled off. The empty voids mixed with the glittering crystals reminded her of the emptiness in beehives; some filled with honey and nectar while others were left abandoned, hollowed out as if only there to just be there. She sympathized with them as she looked away, catching sight of the innate feeling of danger.

A pair of eyes stared at her, a figure just out on the other side of the parking lot. The figure stood, hunched over a car trunk and turned backward towards her, eyes peering in like a mannequin. His face etched an image of a familiarity, a far she could never forget as he wore the faded red hoodie that she had stolen from him just months prior, laughter bubbled up in them both.

Now, even that thick, old hoodie couldn’t shield the chill than sprinted down her spine, her ears pooling with blood as her heart drummed a solid allegro in her chest. Her stomach growled. It was getting too late in the night, she thought, not worth the trip. Her fingers relaxed as she pulled herself away from the empty parking lot, only her white Chevy in front.

If there she could describe the room in one mood, unsettling would be the word. Dim, yellow lights caused all the shadows on the peeling wallpaper to enhance itself with long shadows, always looming over her seemingly small form. Despite this, she still found the warmth and comfort of tight sheets in a made bed. It wasn’t heavy like how she would remember her bed at home–or well, what was home, but it was better than the back of her car.

Sleep cradled her in its arms, rocking her to a blissful, silent slumber–which was appreciated in comparison to the long nights of sweat-drenched nightmares and paranoia. She was okay, she chanted in her head, convincing herself and the monster that is anxiety and intrusive thoughts. New environment, new life, new identity, she is truly scattered to the winds; a field of dandelions.

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forthegothicheroine · 1 year

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Horror novel recommendations

@allthestoriescantbelies asked for horror novel recommendations, so I thought I’d throw one together to post on the blog! Largely focused on non-gothic stuff since I’ve already made a gothic lit list over here.

As a general warning, all horror books listed here will have potentially triggering material. If you want more specific trigger warnings, you can ask me or see if people have listed them on goodreads or storygraph.

My Best Friend’s Exorcism by Grady Hendrix: I know you’ve read this, but I’m putting it on the list because it is one of the scariest books I’ve ever read, about a teenage girl in trouble and the only other girl willing to help her. I’m told the movie makes it much more straightforwardly comic rather than horror-with-jokes, which disappoints me. I’m a big fan of Hendrix in general, though I know you (and plenty of others!) find him hit-or-miss.

Red Dragon by Thomas Harris: Another one I believe you’ve read, but for reference, it’s the best serial killer thriller I’ve ever read. Francis Dolarhyde is a much more interesting character than Hannibal Lecter, I will die on this hill.

We Will All Go Down Together by Gemma Files: Centuries ago, the Five Family Coven made a deal with the Fairy Queen, and their descendants have been doomed ever since. I could have just as easily recommended Files’ book Experimental Film- if you like one, read the other as well.

The Drowning Girl by Caitlin R. Kiernan: A schizophrenic woman has two different memories of her ex-girlfriend and the horror that followed her- was she a werewolf, a mermaid, or were both memories wrong? This is Kiernan at her most heartfelt and most accessible; if you like this and want to try her grosser stuff, read The Very Best of Caitlin R. Kiernan.

House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski: A haunted house in a haunted film in a haunted memoir, written in a work of visual art. I won’t blame anyone who bounces off this, but give it a try!

Carrie by Stephen King: If you’re only going to read one Stephen King, make it either Carrie or Misery. I don’t feel like any film adaptations have captured all the aspects of this tragedy about a girl who deserved a better life and the town who didn’t save her while there was still a chance, including the epistolary format.

Rolling in the Deep by Mira Grant: This novella was followed up by Into the Drowning Deep, but I found Rolling in the Deep much scarier. It’s brisk and high-tension to watch a semi-fake documentary team put together, piece by piece, just what the monsters are that pursue them.

Dark Harvest by Norman Partridge: The Great Pumpkin, but scary! Seriously, though, if you are willing to accept the concept of a boy with a pumpkin head and a knife and a yearly child sacrifice, this is short and a lot of fun.

The Only Good Indians by Stephen Graham Jones: Just an elk killed when some kids were blowing off steam. Just an elk damning the rest of their lives. (Jones’s My Heart is a Chainsaw was too sad for me to recommend as a favorite, but I am curious about the sequel.)

The Wolfen by Whitley Striber: I wanted to include a good werewolf novel on this list, and The Wolfen wins by far for interesting creature design. (The runner up was The Last Werewolf by Glen Duncan.)

The Auctioneer by Joan Samson: A very atypical entry on this list, closer to Twin Peaks than your average thriller. A rural town is turned into a capitalist police state when a slick salesman comes to see what they’ll allow him to do. It turns out, it’s a lot.

The Drive-In by Joe R. Lansdale: The only “splatterpunk” I’ve ever loved, this is an absurdist nightmare about a southern drive-in crowd who get stuck in a world with only the movie screens and each other, turning into literal and figurative monsters. Usually published with the sequel, since both are short, though I didn’t like the latter as much. If you like it, read one of Lansdale’s short story collections.

As always, reblog with suggestions of your own!

#horror #books

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thelarriefics · 1 year

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MAGICAL REALISM FIC REC: Below you’ll find fics that have magical elements to them that blend fantasy with reality in their own ways.

📖 Three Days in February by @mercurial-madhouse (187k)

How close is too close? Harry and Louis are about to find out after a drunken night leaves Louis cursed. With only a week before tour starts, the race is on to fix things before they lose Louis forever. Oh, and Harry has to keep his long-time crush on Louis a secret while the lad can literally hear his thoughts. Easy, right?

Featuring ridiculous amounts of banter and angst, a healthy dose of OT5 friendship, and one very magical weekend.

📖 hymn for the wretched & divine by @wlwmermald (126k)

Death loses a bet with a mischievous and lively mortal by the name of Louis Tomlinson, who loves his old cat too much, the price being he must unconditionally befriend Louis. Death ends up getting more than he bargained for.

📖 Si Pudiera Volar by by @softfonds (69k)

When Harry’s fiancé leaves him for his cousin, he looks the other way for the sake of his happiness. He’ll do anything to forget about him, including joining a monastery. It isn’t until his cousin’s former lover, a pirate, appears that he realizes everything is not as it appears, and an honest pirate might be the only person worthy of his heart.

Or, a fic loosely based on Corazón Salvaje.

📖 Take on Me by @haztobegood (60k)

Actor Harry Styles is preparing for his next leading role as Antonius the Gladiator with the help of Louis Tomlinson, Hollywood’s top stunt coordinator. When the demands of Harry’s career get in the way of their training, the pair head to a secluded cabin to complete their training. Then, Louis begins to share senses with Harry. What is causing this mysterious connection and can Louis and Harry figure out how to stop it before they leave the cabin?

📖 Driftwood by @justanothershadeofblue (51k)

Eroda was all Harry knew. He lived there all his life, but he always knew he was peculiar. He had dreams that go beyond this small, cold, and lonely island. He wanted to leave; he HAD to leave. But that meant leaving Louis...

Harry is a lonely and depressed popstar who sailed out of his hometown on Eroda years ago to chase his dreams. He comes back to the island only to find his shining childhood best friend Louis just as cold and dreary as the island they grew up on.

📖 Chasing, Searching, Dreaming by @parmahamlarrie (46k)

Everyone is chasing, searching, dreaming of their soulmate.

Harry has known who his soulmate is since he was twenty years old, and ever since, he has been waiting for Louis to be ready for him. The unexpected passing of Louis' mum, and the fact that now he is the guardian of his twin two-year-old little siblings, just means that Harry is going to have to wait a bit longer.

A soulmate AU full of cute kids, house building, therapy, and a lot of dreaming.

📖 Soul of the Sea by @vurdoc (32k)

Louis lives a nomadic lifestyle. Never settling down in one place for long, he finds himself caught in a storm, as he’s passing through a small Scottish seaside town.

Everywhere is full, except the old B&B perched up on an isolated hill near the coastline, where the recluse owner isn’t what he seems.

Then again, who really is?

A fic about belonging, supernatural beings, and finding your own home.

📖 Fate & Chance by @zanniscaramouche (31k)

Haunted by his own ghost, the Duke von Tomlin fears for his safety and sanity as the days tick down to his certain engagement with the Crown Prince of Vienna. Meanwhile the travelling magician Hassenheim takes residency in a well established theatre, drawing mass crowds with his awe-inspiring illusions. Is it fate or chance that entwines their paths?

📖 The Honeycomb Bed and Breakfast by @daggerandrose (8k)

“I’m sorry, but where did we land?” He asks one of the flight attendants when he reaches the door.

“We’re in Bucharest.”

It takes a minute for Harry to process the location. “Romania? I was supposed to go to Rome, not Romania! How does that happen?”

or the one where Harry's work trip to Italy makes a tiny detour to Bucharest, Romania and he has to find a place to stay.

📖 i was at an all night diner by @yoursongonmyheart (5k)

"I know. I was there. I saw the great void in your soul, and you saw mine."

//or, the one where none of the boys can sleep and they all meet at a diner where it's always 3 a.m.

📖 The kaleidoscope of your eyes by @greenblueish (4k)

They are greeted by a young, handsome man in his late twenties, dressed in wide black trousers and a purple silky dress shirt. Usually Louis is quick to judge such daring pieces of clothing, as this colour in particular can easily look like a cheap Halloween costume imitation of a computer game character, but at this sight, he can think of no criticism. Except that there’s no way in hell that this man has the medical knowledge to cure his neighbour’s tumour.

or, the one where Harry, disguised as an alternative practitioner, uses his magic to cure people's health issues and Louis doesn't believe in the faith healer until he meets him himself.

📖 'Cause I Just Wanna Feel Alive by @goldenkinglouis (3k)

“Oh, cheers, mate, but I don’t do dates.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “Are you–” he waved vaguely.

Louis shook his head. “No, it’s just… been too long for me.”

“And how might I convince you otherwise?” Harry asked, his eyes glistening under the lights.

OR: Louis is a lost, lonely vampire. Harry is the witch who brings him home.

📖 Just a little taste by @lunarheslwt (3k)

Harry is a vampire that comes home one night, grappling with the darkness that comes with being one. Louis offers him unwavering love, acceptance and the one thing he needs but is reluctant to ask for; permission to bite for the sake of comfort and safety seeking.

📖 all was golden in the sky by @daydreaming-sunflower (1k)

The Sun and the Moon are in love.

#masterpost #1dsource #hljournal #hlcreators

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courtofmatchups · 3 months

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hello, i’d like to request an obey me matchup if thats okay <3

my name is bee, i’m an infp, aries, lesbian (okay with fictional men tho 🤭) and use she/they pronouns

personality: i’m very introverted, shy, and soft spoken, but with people i’m very comfortable with i tend to be a bit silly and say whatever i’m thinking. i’ve been told i’m quick with witty responses. i rarely get angry and try my best to be patient and understanding with the people around me, looking for the good in everyone i meet. due to my adhd i tend to space out a lot and forget what i’m saying easily, but i’d like to think all of that daydreaming has turned me into a creative person. art and drawing has been a huge passion of mine for as long as i can remember, and i specialize in pen and ink drawings. i’m currently working as a barista, but i plan to go back to school in the future to study art. i mainly express my love through gift giving and acts of service, and i prefer to receive words of affirmation and physical touch.

hobbies/interests: drawing, napping, gaming, horror (books, movies, games), lovecraftian/cosmic horror, bloodborne, souls series, elder scrolls, dark fantasy, history, historical dramas, metal music, annoying the shit out of people by telling them bloodborne lore

some of my favorite things: sunflowers, soft things, plushies, pens, naps on rainy days, soft lighting, electric wizard, garfield, sleeping in, cats, frogs, opossums, strawberry lemonade, doom metal, pompompurin

dislikes: loud noises, bright lights, and strong smells (they trigger my migraines), crowds, tomatoes, hot weather, spiders, opening shifts, acrylic paint, neon colors

appearance/aesthetic: 5’6, a little curvy, soft features, blue eyes, short and shaggy burgundy (dyed) hair, septum piercing, faint freckles. i usually wear grunge fairycore outfits, long skirts, lots of rings, crystal necklaces, and a little bit of makeup. at work my style leans more towards dark academia if i’m not feeling lazy in the morning. i mainly wear my doc martens everywhere as well. (easier to deal with if i accidentally spill at work.)

a few characters i relate to: sawako (kimi ni todoke) nell (haunting of hill house) kisa (fruits basket) asa (chainsaw man) lady maria (bloodborne)

i apologize if this is unorganized. have a lovely day! <3

It seems to me you've captured the heart of...

The Avatar of Lust

Asmodeus!

"What a cutie!" - Asmodeus

Asmo loves seeing your silly side and he will never tire of seeing you go from shy and soft spoken to outgoing. And your quick witted responses are good enough to give Satan and Belphie a run for their money. Like you, Asmo likes to find the beauty in everyone and everything, and there is just so much to admire about you. Your creativity is one of them. He appreciates that you like him for him.

If there is ever a time your mind wanders, he'll be there to get your mind back on track. ADHD can be a struggle to live with, especially since the world seems to be against you, but Asmo's here to support you, and cheer you on. He enjoys your artwork, and he appreciates the work you put into your work as a barista, and will support you all the way: before art school, during art school, and after art school.

Asmo's heard plenty of Levi's infodumping on his interests, so he's quite used to this kind of thing, and with you, he'd look forward to it. And seeing that you're into horror, he'd find an excuse to cling to you when something scary pops up.

A lot of your interests lines up with his, so that's also a plus. He'd love to take you shopping for clothes and accessories. And don't worry if you get overwhelmed by the environment, he'll get you out of there.

Overall, a happy relationship

#court of matchups #obey me matchups #obey me shall we date #obey me #matchups #obey me nightbringer #obey me asmodeus

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hey-sherry · 1 year

Text

Act VIII Ending this... SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS

Let's save the world \o/

(acting chipper, but I am writing this after finishing the game and haha I AM NOT OKAY)

Puzzle solving with Watson, weee! The PoV switching was fun, I loved their banter, I wish Watson had actually kicked me, poking fun at all of the tomb raiding from two British men was fun fun fun.

The cave labyrinth - so creepy. We got so much distressed Sherlock in this one, poor guy! And yeah, he died once because I insisted on exploring... as I said, we ignore the main objective in this house.

This was such a haunting moment, and we could maybe stretch it into Sherlock's disdain for the solar system...

I was so distraught in the moment, I didn't even notice the SHOULDER GRAB we've all been waiting for. Well! We love a good parallel, yes good good.

My beautiful mad boy. I had to laugh out loud when he chastised Watson for killing the man - after I watched Sherlock die three times in a row because I can't aim to save my life.

Big "For me, it's always like this" moment imo, especially after looking at the Void painting. (Will I ever stop drawing parallels between Silent Hill 2 and every other game I see? No. It's good!!)

This happened BACK TO BACK, what perfect timing! My beautiful pure perfect boy. I miss him so much. :'(

UM!!! Screaming inside.

Nothing like a gritty, bloody Holmes and a complete madman having a dialogue battle in a raging storm. I selected the wrong answers a few times just to see what happens, which brings us to... a problem:

This. This, a QTE in the year of the Lord two thousand and twenty-three, dampened SO much of my feelings and enjoyment for the final moments of this game. It wasn't fun, it didn't make me feel smart or scared for Sherlock or... anything. It took me out of the whole thing and reminded me that, yeah, I am playing a videogame. Introducing a new gaming mechanic (a widely disliked one at that) at the very end of the game is the real insanity here. I'm really disappointed by this.

The beam puzzle itself was fine and I had fun figuring out where to point the beams. Just not the crowd part.

I will not mention that other game I love to draw parallels to, but I did think of it. A bit too on the nose this time, mayhaps!

This poor man :'(

I could be posting screenshots of the dialogue all day, really - so many famous quotes, references, all the while making it very clear about a cycle that repeats itself, ha.

OOF.

Yeah, so.

We have to talk.

About being lulled into a sense of safety.

Before everything you think you know and believe about people gets flipped upside down.

Because...

WHAT THE FUUUUUUCKKKKKKKK

????????????????????

My friends, the way my jaw fucking dropped. I-- Watson-- WHAT????

This game was dark enough as it is, well - expectedly. This, however, I did not expect in the slightest (I don't think ANY of us did). This is so bloody dark?!

So, I half expected Sherlock's addiction to be mentioned in the beginning of TA - in the 2008 game he is just kinda melancholy, in Chapter One the 7% solution is presented by Vogel, so I think most of us assumed he used it at some point after Cordona to cope with all the stuff - but then it just wasn't. Instead he used Watson's syringes as pins. If this is meant to be how the addiction actually starts, then I really don't know what to think of it.

The implications are really dark.

I need another game.

#shta diary #sherlock holmes the awakened #sherlock holmes #my screenshots #shta spoilers #spoilers

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teenwolftuesdaytrash · 1 year

Text

Derek and fire — it has always been a complicated relationship.

Before Kate. Before the fire.

Before blue eyes. Before a too young, too bloody goodbye in a cellar filled with magical roots and vines.

When it was still just the Hale House. Secluded, yes, but thriving, full, noisy, cramped, crowded with too many wolves in one den.

Back then, fire had been warmth for Derek. It had been the promise of food accompanied by the click, click, click of the stove as his Papa got started on dinner. It had been a soothing aroma as Laura lit her favorite scented candle and left it on the side table by the sofa. Occasionally, it had also been the mark of a night of mischief, him and his siblings and cousins sneaking out to the preserve in the middle of the night for an impromptu campfire with a side of underage drinking.

Back then, before everything, before Paige and then Kate, fire had just been a pretty sight for Derek, something to stare into as he lost himself in benign teenage werewolf woes.

Then it happened. Fire grew and became a monster, ate and burned and took everything in Derek’s life, took everything he loved in that big old ‘wolf house.

One big red, orange, blue, red, yellow, and then more red of a monster.

After, for a little while, (and maybe a little while longer) fire had been…relief. Hidden. Secret. Shame.

After crying with Laura, moving to New York with Laura, building a new significantly tinier pack with Laura, fire had been a cheap lighter in Derek’s hands, bought in secret and held between his thighs — flickering, and warming, and warning. Burning against Derek’s hurting then healing and back again skin.

It had become a second secret that Derek made sure to keep from Laura.

For a while, fire had been Peter lying catatonic on a hospital bed, skin mangled and unhealing, Derek’s favorite peculiar uncle nothing but a shell of himself.

It had been a reminder. A ghost that haunted Derek’s every waking thought and dreams. This is how weak you were. This is what you’ve done.

Then, Laura went missing, and fire became a taunt and a call to come back to Beacon Hills – come home, come closer, closer.

Quickly and briefly after that, fire had been re-lived grief and inescapable tragedy. It had been the burn in his hands as Derek rubbed and wound wolfsbane on that rope, the numbness and the sting as Derek walked and marked the grave that would hold his sister’s chopped up corpse.

Fire went away for a little while after that. Left him gasping and grasping cold air, laid down on the sooted and ice-cold floors of his childhood home.

Then the heat came back in molotov cocktails and a feral uncle, a too young wolf playing hero and insistently repeating all, ALL of Derek’s past mistakes, forcing him to look in the mirror every goddamn day and deal with this too ideal and too gullible version of who he once was.

Explosive chaos, that version of himself caused. Him and his friends, each one their own version of trouble. Unadulterated chaos all of them.

Derek and fire — a recipe for inescapable tragedy, a cautionary tale, a warning. One that Derek has learned from. Or rather, one that he should have learned from.

And yet. In the here and now…

Despite everything, or maybe more honestly because of everything that fire has taken from him, he still finds himself burning for—

Stiles is…Stiles. He isn’t Kate. Nor Jennifer or Braeden. He isn’t Paige.

Derek knows this. He knows it well.

But Derek also knows that Stiles is a spark that burns wild and bright. In more ways than one.

From the growing power of his magic to the ferocity of the way he loved, unafraid to cross lines and use any means necessary to protect those he cared for. Stiles with his amber eyes and sharp tongue is the raging heat and the eviscerate-all-who-dare-touch of fire.

And Derek burns.

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #bottom!derek #yes #angst #hurt!derek #trigger warning #self harm #ideation

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visceravalentines · 2 years

Text

Ambrose Ghosts

It's finally cooling off outside and the pumpkins have emerged. So I think it's time to post a ghost story. A description of a haunted house and the three phantoms who wander the halls. No CWs, just angst.

The Sinclair brothers had always known they lived in a haunted house.

It was old, of course; it had been built long before a young couple named Trudy and Victor had purchased the property. And it came with a local legend, like all houses on hills do. There had been a man and a maid, an affair, a gun. Each of the brothers knew the story even if they couldn’t remember where they’d heard it first.

The pipes were old and they clanked. The rafters were warped and they snapped loudly at night. There was a door upstairs that hung open, always, no matter how securely you knew you had closed it. Sometimes the creaking of the walls sounded like footsteps on the floorboards. Sometimes one of the kitchen windows fogged over even when all the rest were crystal clear.

When Lester was small, he had nightmares about a woman in the closet. He would wake up sweating and tearful, peering into the darkness, and knock on the wall between his room and the twins’ like a tiny lost specter until one of them came to get him.

They would tuck him in beside them, reassure him there was no such thing as ghosts, and lie awake in the dark long after he fell asleep. Neither of them told him they’d seen her too. Bo never told him he’d woken up to a cool, maternal hand on his forehead only to find no one at his bedside. Vincent never showed him the drawings.

The boys grew up, stopped sharing beds, kept having nightmares. They outgrew their clothes, their fears, their parents. As Bo rolled up the rug stained with his father’s blood and saw it had seeped through into the floorboards, part of him couldn’t help but think they had added two more restless souls to the cracks in the walls.

It wouldn’t be long before they were racking up hauntings in the rest of the town as well.

Ambrose was a ghost town, there was no doubt about that. There was a cold spot in the grocery store, all year round. The curtain in front of Mrs. Whipple moved at the whim of her animatronic hand. The curtain to her left moved at random. Sometimes the projector in the movie theatre started the reel over of its own accord. And there was a room in the Stanford house…none of the brothers went in there.

Sometimes, below the recorded soundtrack of mourners in the church, Bo could’ve sworn he heard someone say his name. He never mentioned it to his brothers; never thought much of it, truth be told. If he had, he would’ve been surprised to find they’d heard it too, only it was their own names instead of his.

None of them ever much minded it. A ghost was a ghost, after all. Ghosts didn’t have guns or knives, rough hands or loud voices. Ghosts couldn’t report you to the authorities. All a ghost could do was watch, and wish, and wonder.

Besides, they all knew what really haunted them. None of them dared to speak of it. The thing about ghosts is that they can hear you, and they remember their names. Maybe, if they let it be, it would let them be in turn.

But Bo never opened that closet if he could help it, the one in the hallway off the kitchen. The one that held two highchairs embroidered with the names of two little boys. When he did, when he had to, his wrists burned like stigmata, his ankles too, and his ears rang with the sound of a slap.

Vincent didn’t like to be in the basement in the dark. No matter what, he kept a candle burning. Should that candle go out, suddenly the darkness began to crowd him. Suddenly he heard the sniffling of a gifted boy with a selfish mother, and the smell of wax became cloying, and his stomach began to ache.

And Lester never spent much time in the house by himself. When he did, time seemed to stop. The clocks froze in place. And he had the feeling, unshakeable, that he was the last person left on earth. That everyone had gone, and they had left him behind.

Life in Ambrose was a breath of smoke, a trick of the light. The brothers drifted past each other in the hallways, rattled liquor bottles, howled at the moon. Often the stairs groaned with the footsteps of someone leaving a sweat-soaked bed. The pictures moved, flipped facedown, faceup. Footprints in the dust. The inexplicable smell of tobacco. The sound of muffled screaming. Life after death, after death, after death.

The Sinclair brothers always knew they lived in a haunted house. They didn’t mind it so much, as long as they had one another.

Because there is no fate worse than being a lonely ghost.

#house of wax #bo sinclair fanfiction #vincent sinclair fanfiction #lester sinclair fanfiction #house of wax fanfiction #my writing #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair

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fvriva · 2 days

Note

🐖 for Thrandy and Lyth if you haven't already! I saw Ellie and am curious about their siblings as well :)

I dished out a whole hog for Thrandy in this ask, so I'll be talking about Lyth in this one! (Here's Ellie too for reference)

send an emoji + an oc (or order the WHOLE HOG)

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name?

I wanted something that evoked "Ellie" but elven, and in a different sort of direction than "Elthrandor". Eventually I landed on Elythra. Because they were raised with their bio dad, their full name here is Elythra Ryu.

🌼 - How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

Like their siblings, Elythra is 13.

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)?

Nope! They are aro/ace.

🍕 - What is their favorite food?

Lyth also loves sweets, but they like their dad's cooking even more. They're a big fan whenever he gets the ingredients to make a very fruity tteokbokki for them.

💼 - What do they do for a living?

They're currently a magical student on the isle Lethe in Eikas.

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?

Out of the triplets, Lyth likes just being out in nature the most. They also used to really like visiting the theater, until they realized with their awakening empathy that all the actors were just Iryle's puppets.

🎯 -What do they do best?

They have a better sense of empathy and understanding of emotions than many due to their powers. They don't always know how to handle emotions (especially ones that aren't theirs) as a 13 year old, though.

🥊 - What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

Lyth likes their alone time a lot. It's precious to them. They also like playing dress up quite a bit. They really hate being in crowds.

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

It's weird to think of it as a best memory but it's probably when they first found out that their whole life and world was built on a lie and they had family outside of the island. It was scary in the moment but it gave them the strength to act on it.

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

Their empathy was on the fritz (happens sometimes) and it was raining. Rain on Lethe has amnestic properties especially for humans, and it was the first time they realized that not only was their dad starting to lose himself, but it was tearing him apart to be starting to forget his child.

🧊 - Is their current design the first one?

No, but it's very similar. They're a pretty recent OC so I started putting them in Exordium pretty shortly after they were made for Prophecy.

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

Ellie died and I needed a backup character!

The culmination of Ellie's arc was to make a terrible choice, which coincided with the ability to make a wish. Long story short, they are the reincarnation of their favorite character and had to finish his quest as well, because he died before it was completed. When they made their wish (closing off hell permanently at the cost of the Veil hiding the magical world, and their life), they reincarnated on the spot into Elythra.

Lyth themself I wanted to be kind of reminiscent of Ellie but fully elven. I also had been taking in some empath media (The Bright Sessions + Theo from Haunting of Hill House) so I wanted to try my hand at it, and it felt like the most natural progression of some of Ellie's abilities.

🌂 - What genre do they belong in?

Dark Souls but for mages exclusively. There's a future that exists for them as a wandering necromancer and ice-elemental sorcerer, wandering the hadal zone at the bottom of the ocean.

💚 - What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality?

Agender, Aroace, they/them.

🙌 - How many sibling does your OC have?

Two siblings, and they have an inkling of them because their father talks about them both when he's a little delirious. Elythra already cares very deeply about them, especially when they start to realize that their siblings are both still alive.

🍎 - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?

They care very much about their father, and worry constantly about his health because he's human. They know about their Archmage birth mother and are a little intimidated by her. Iryle is a surrogate mother figure and they were close with her when they were younger, but as they've grown they've started to see through her as a manipulator.

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

I like how serious they are. The other two siblings have a silly energy to them because of the rp goofing but Lyth has always had a much more somber, sad air to them. A melancholy.

✏️ - How often do you draw/write about the OC?

Not as much these days but I do write about them. I have some plans. I also think about them quite a lot because I think they have the most interesting life post-story.

💎 - Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?

Nope! Might pull a Clariel with them if anything.

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

They don't like crowded places, and they get overstimulated pretty easily. Not the same time as a phobia though. They're reasonably tough once they're uncomfortable, they just don't like being uncomfortable (who does?)

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

They don't really have a specific rival but in Prophecy they rehabilitated the final boss, the Leviathan, as their familiar, and they do something similar in Exordium with a trapped dragon spirit (Levyphystri, to fit my naming conventions).

🎓 - How long have you had the OC?

Their official birthday is Valentine's Day, 2022 irl. (In game it's April Fools Day, 199Y) A little over two years. I've had them a bit longer but a backup character has the luxury of a specific debut.

🍥 - What age were you when you created the OC?

22!

#chesca.oc #exordium #vethbrenattosimp #answered ask #prophecy

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thesensethatyouchoose · 1 month

Text

@wookieeoftheyear thank you for the tag!

Comfort Book: I have a lot of comfort books haha! I think the ones I re-read most often for peace The Catcher in the Rye, Slaughterhouse-Five, Their Eyes Were Watching God, any of Rupi Kaur’s poetry collection, The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane, Rebecca, The Haunting of Hill House, Inkheart, and the first Harry Potter.

Comfort Movie: This is hard as well! I will go with Harold and Maude, Juno, Her, The Notebook, Me Before You, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, The Village, and Superstar.

Comfort TV show: EASY my number #1 is Fleabag. I’ve watched that I think three or four times through in the last year. I also like Love on the Spectrum though, and The IT Crowd.

No pressure tags @wineandtell @rosecoloredknight @meganin @flowerjam

#asks

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theflashdriver · 2 years

Text

Plunging Fangs (A Silvaze Fic)

Blaze's ears kept twitching, there was an itchiness at her scalp. The plastic red headband she wore was, as she'd expected, just a little too small. Still, this was the costume she'd ended up with; it was much too late to change now. Regardless of her comfort, there was work to be done. The cat's senses were attuned to her surroundings while she and her partner stood with their back to one of many giant metal jack-o'-lanterns, its face carved to form the familiar emblem of one Doctor Eggman.

A cacophony surrounded the guardian of the Sol Emeralds, a combination of music and joyous uproar was exploding from every direction. Orange, green, purple and black were the colours of the evening, draping and coating every inch of the fairground that the feline and her hedgehog ally found themselves stood within. People of all ages, from babies in strollers to grandparents pushing them to gaggles of teens were present; every single person garbed in some kind of costume. The foot of the Pumpkin Mountain range had been a fitting choice for this festivity, but the pair hadn't come to celebrate.

The pyrokinetic elbowed her companion, catching part of his wing, "Have you seen anything suspect?"

"Not yet, everything looks... normal," Silver's point was punctuated by a massive cat in plastic grey armour rushing by, in pursuit of a crowned frog, "Well, as normal as I think it should. I've never been to a fair before, let alone a halloween one."

While the hedgehog's gaze followed that rotund purple figure, Blaze's eyes lingered on Silver. She hadn't seen anyone else in an angel costume in the time they'd spent scouting, but Blaze supposed that might have been because they'd arrived mere hours before halloween night. In hindsight they should have arrived earlier, taken more time to shop, but their present costumes would do for tonight. Regardless, white and gold suited him better than orange and green.

He was wearing a headband too; his was topped with a cheap looking gold tinsel halo attached to a stiff wire. Flowing white robes hung from his shoulders, bound around his waist with a golden sash yet leaving far too much chest fur exposed. The billowing sleeves from his garb left the usual golden bangles on his wrists half exposed, glinting in the light only when he reached. Attached by straps, slung over his shoulders like a backpack, was a set of gaudy white plastic wings that were clearly uncomfortable against his spines. Only one aspect clashed with his outfit; the hedgehog had opted to keep his boots on, lest things take the dangerous turn that they were expecting.

Just as she caught him turning back to her, Blaze re-centred her attention to the surrounding events. A green feathered fellow dressed in an elaborate pirate outfit, flanked by two other birds in more rudimentary swashbuckling garb, was currently boasting as he walked toward what was labeled as a haunted house. Left of them was a white furred bat in an ornate golden headdress, thick spools of bandages wrapped around her body, in the midst of rummaging through a massive cauldron of candy as if in search of something. The cat also caught sight of Cream and her mother for the third time this evening, dressed in matching witchy outfits. The two of them had been taking advantage of the rides; going from a pumpkin based ferris wheel to a set of ghostly dodgems before now approaching a hall of mirrors. Despite the oddness of the event's aesthetics, nothing seemed untoward.

Blaze looked up from the festivities, staring up to the mountain range looming over the fair. Atop every other hill and mountain sat a large, grinning, stone carved jack'o-lantern, the origins of which were lost on the cat. What she did know, based on a newspaper they'd found in Silver's future, was that the largest and most central of-

"Sonic! Why aren't you wearing the costume I made you!" One voice shouted over the crowd, loud and familiar, "You promised we'd come as a couple this time!"

Blaze was on the ground before she could blink, suddenly smooshed beneath a great wall of white fluff and pointy plastic wings. The weight atop her was not merely that of Silver though, Blaze knew that mass well enough. No, another had induced and added to this pile up. Hints of pink, though oddly accompanied by green, were visible just beyond the psychic.

"Amy," Silver's voice was strained, she was surely hugging the air out of him, "It's me, Silver. Not Sonic!"

Almost immediately the weight above shifted, Blaze heard a panicked apology sound but her attention was elsewhere. Silver's palms had thudded to both sides of her shoulders as he struggled to right himself. His yellow eyes locked into her amber set. Seriousness had claimed his expression, Blaze felt her tail lash.

"Are you alright?" He asked, a concern clear in his voice.

"You know I can handle a harder hit than that," Blaze rolled her eyes, "It's-

All of a sudden Silver's head was a lot closer, he'd lowered himself to align with her ear. Temperature spiked across Blaze's body, did he really think the hit had been that hard? Amy had tackled him, not her!

"What should we do, should we tell her?" With that whispering question, Blaze felt quite foolish for not realising his intent, "Do you think she knows what's going on around here?"

"Even if she doesn't, she'll find out eventually, it's in our best interest to be honest," Blaze grumbled back, averting her gaze from him, "Please get up."

"Are you two okay down there?" Amy's voice sounded as Silver rose, "Oh no, did I interrupt a date!?"

Before Silver could extend a hand, the feline had fully jumped to her feet, "No Amy, not a date. This is not a date."

"Oh," Did she sound disappointed?! If she was, the pink hedgehog had immediately bounced back to her excitable state, "You guys are here for the Halloween party though, right? You both look great! Silver as an angel makes so much sense, but I'd never have pictured you as a devil Blaze. It really works!"

Blaze reached down, dusting herself off. She'd ended up wearing a somewhat garish red jumpsuit lined with scarlet sequins, worn over a somewhat tight red shirt. A pitchfork-like red cap had been uncomfortably fastened to the tip of her tail, made of the same cheap plastic material as the horned headband pushing back her hair. Red fishnet gloves now covered her hands but, like her partner, she'd kept her heels for the sake of being practical. As fancy dress went, this devil outfit was the most endurable of the options that their last second shop had revealed.

"Thank you, Amy," The cat replied, adjusting her scratchy headband, "Although, I must admit, I am a little confused. What are you dressed as?"

The pink hedgehog's quills had grown longer since their last encounter and been dyed an almost neon green colour at the tips, matching the smattering of face paint streaked across her muzzle. Her clothes looked to be intentionally torn; a red sports jersey with the number ninety-six emblazoned on it with a matching skirt. Her long socks were littered with strategically placed holes and a set of sneakers completed the worn ensemble, though the hedgehog also had a multitude of painted on bruises and cuts littering her body.

"Oh, I'm a cheerleader zombie!" The pink hedgehog struck a pose, bearing her teeth while making a victory symbol with her fingers, "Eating brains and looking cute while doing it!"

Silver quickly picked up on the root of the question, "Do you not know what a zombie is, Blaze?"

"The festivity you call Halloween doesn't exist in my dimension, so many of the mythological creatures of this world are somewhat lost on me," Blaze quickly and bluntly responded, "That's besides the point though. Amy, we're here to-

"You don't even have Halloween?!" The loud hedgehog was aghast, "Well, you're in exactly the right place! This has to be the biggest Pumpkin Hill Halloween Party ever," Her cheering did waver after that explanation, "It's just a shame about who's sponsoring it..."

"So you know, you know Eggman's behind this?" Blaze pushed, trying to shift the conversation.

"Of course I do, everyone does," Amy explained, but her hands shot to her cheeks just a second later, "Is that why you two are here? Are we in danger?"

Blaze caught Silver's stare and gave him a nod.

"We don't know. The future is in a state of discord, it keeps changing whenever we return. We've been struggling to find the cause," Silver gravely explained, "We found a newspaper the last time we visited, claiming that the pumpkin on top of a nearby mountain is going to explode tonight. Unfortunately, there weren't any more details."

"Oh," The zombie cheerleader was back to grinning, "Then we've got nothing to worry about!"

"What?" Silver blinked, "How can you know that?"

"Sonic told me he was heading up there before coming down for the festivities tonight; I think he said Eggman has a base in there," Amy so casually answered.

"Then we should go and help him," Blaze quickly looked to Silver, only to catch Amy shaking her head.

"Sonic can handle this, I just know it. Even if he couldn't on his own, I'm certain Knuckles and Tails are there to lend a helping hand. Besides, we have a much more important work to do," Amy cryptically insisted, grabbing them both by the hand, "We've got to show you Halloween Blaze!"

There was a glow in the pink hedgehog's eyes, a sparkling excitement that took the feline aback, "Are you sure that-

"Eggman spent way too much time setting up the fair, there's no way he's had time for some world ending plan," Amy unconvincingly explained, "Besides, he doesn't have all of the chaos emeralds and I did a tarot reading today. This evening's set to be the best halloween yet! There's nothing to worry about."

With that, and not a word more, Amy began to drag the otherworldly pair away from the edge of the fairground.

"What do you think?" Silver muttered across, half whispering.

"I think we should remain on guard and ready to help," Blaze answered, "But I confess, it sounds as though we're probably not needed here. Amy has an uncanny foresight when it comes to Sonic and, for as silly as those cards of her sound, they're accurate..."

"I suppose we know more now than we did before," The angel confirmed, "And I guess there's nothing stopping us from doing our recon while on the grounds..."

"So, Blaze, what do you actually know about Halloween?" Amy asked, slowing down to walk between the pair.

"Well, um," The cat struggled to start, "It appears to be a costume based event, primarily based in horror based aesthetics but..." As if to punctuate that point, a crocodile walked past in an overlarge detective coat with a false cigar at his lips, "Not exclusively? There also appears to be a lot of candy involved as well as a focus on an autumnal aesthetic... though maybe it's just pumpkins? I haven't really seen any red leaves or..." Feeling her tongue grow heavy, Blaze gave up in her rambling, "To be honest, I am rather confused. It all seems a little eclectic."

"Well, Halloween as a tradition comes from the north. Back when it was first celebrated turnips were carved into lanterns rather than pumpkins and used to ward off evil spirits; the same idea kind of applies to the costumes," Amy rather succinctly explained, "Nowadays though it's best to just think of Halloween as a fun, spooky, celebration. People get dressed up, tell scary stories and have all sorts of traditions. Kids go trick or treating, walking around houses to collect candy in costume, but most folks either kick back and watch horror movies or come to parties like this."

"I... see," Blaze hummed, "So it's really just an excuse to have some fun then?"

"It always seemed that way whenever I read about it," Silver chimed in, a spark of excitement now present in his tone, "There's not really anything spiritual to it anymore, ironically. It's more about bringing people together and enjoying what people usually find scary."

"Exactly!" Miss Rose cheered, "When it's dark out and there's an eerie chill in the air, there's always a chance for romance."

"Romance?" Silver fell directly into her trap.

"Yes of course! For example..." The pink hedgehog scanned their surroundings, Blaze watched her eyes fall on the trio of pirate garbed birds stumbling back out of the haunted house, "What to those three might have been a terrifying experience, filled with animatronic ghosts and ghouls, brings with it an opportunity to cuddle into one you love," Amy swooned before turning to point at the bat by the candy cauldron, having just pulled some sort of gem from its depths, "Or over there! Rouge is being selfish, clearly searching for something specific, but knowing someone's favourite treat and sharing it with them? What could be more lovely?" Third, Amy ended up pointing to the large crocodile fellow who had passed prior, now chatting with Vanilla, "Even just being in costume together; what people pick says a lot about them. There's tons of romantic potential in Halloween!"

"Huh, I guess that could be true," Silver responded, immediately looking down at himself.

"We picked these at the last moment, I don't think they reflect much of anything," Blaze reminded him, trying very hard no to think about their past in Crisis city; how she'd seem herself as a demon and him as something far purer.

"Maybe not, but you see how it could," Amy teased, their hands now released as she led the way deeper into the fairground.

The trio passed by and through attraction after attraction, the two otherworldly visitors only managing to rebuff Amy's attempt to drag them into the fun once. They were pulled onto a series of spinning open top pumpkins, dragged through a corn maze stalked by spooky automatons, made to test their strength for a sweet reward, found themselves laughing as they fumbled against plainly rigged carnival games, experienced a true jump scare for the first time, and finally rushed their way through an open air rave. Once all that was done, plainly in need of a break and to set things back on course, Blaze had been the one to drag her allies to sit at a nearby bench.

Silver was to her immediate right, lightly panting with his nose to the air as he popped the last of their gathered stock of chocolate into his mouth. He'd come out the other end of their adventure only slightly worse for wear, not a stain on his costume though it was thoroughly ruffled. Even more of his chest fur had ended up exposed as the belt around his waist had loosened. The cat's eyes quickly wandered back to the mountain range, only to find it completely still. If Sonic and the others were up there, it certainly wasn't obvious...

"Amy, what's that?" The psychic asked aloud, drawing the cat's attention.

"Oh, you don't know about apple bobbing?" Amy inquired in response.

Following her allies' gaze, Blaze found herself peering at a wide brimmed cauldron. There was a small queue leading up to it but, presently, a chameleon dressed fully as a ninja was lowering a bee head first into what looked to be water. Said dunked child was wearing an especially peculiar costume, designed to look like the bee was instead a hedgehog with black quills. All of a sudden he was removed from the water, an apple in his mouth, and went flying off with the chameleon in tow. Those who followed didn't look to incorporate the submerging an ally approach...

"I'm not really sure how it started to be honest, but it's one of the oldest games associated with Halloween. Basically you just go up and dunk your head in the water, trying to bite an apple to retrieve it from the water. The point of the game is to do it without using your hands," The girl explained, "I guess it might be based on the idea of dunking witches in water? They used to do that to try and force confessions out of them."

"I want to go give it a shot," The hedgehog seemed to immediately regret blurting that out; his eyes crashed back to Blaze, "I-I'll be quick. Then I think we should go check on Sonic and the others, it feels like they're taking too long."

"You're so naive," Blaze knew how he loved apples, she rolled her eyes to avoid his puppy-eyed look of regret, "If they're not here by the time you're back, we'll start heading up the mountain."

"You guys, I'm sure Sonic's got a handle on this. Enjoy yourself Silver!" Amy called, shoeing him off the bench. The moment he was in the line, Amy's attention was on the cat, "Don't you want to join him in the fun?"

"I don't think I trust that water," The cat half lied, not wanting to confess her remaining tension regarding the mission, "Who knows how long its been left out or how many people have... bobbed before I would have that opportunity."

"Don't be a spoilsport, it's one of the oldest halloween games for a reason. It's fun!" Amy laughed, though her attention seemed to drift, "But I think I know an easier way to get us some apples. I'll be back!"

With the pink hedgehog having briefly fled, and no sign of activity on the mountain, Blaze's gaze was of course pulled away from the other festivities and to her companion. The psychic's love of apples was something she'd learned upon reuniting with him. It was endearing in how simple it was; a fruit others viewed as so commonplace was a unique treasure to him. Introducing him to apple pie come Winter would surely be a treat.

The hedgehog ended up at the front of the queue and immediately, as expected, put his whole heart into the gaming endeavour. His hands had thunked onto the rim of the cauldron and his muzzle was fully submerged. Blaze snorted as a wave of water splashed free from the cauldron, very almost freeing an apple with the force of his mouthing alone. It was fortunate that he was wearing a headband, otherwise his quills would surely have been soaked. Well, fortunate from a certain point of-

An apple blocked Blaze's gaze, coated in an orange toffee glaze with a stencilled chocolate jack'o-lantern grin set to face her. Glancing down the apple led to an attached stick and that stick to a torn glove. The zombie cheerleader Amy rose had returned, a toffee covered apple of her own in hand.

Blaze quickly smothered her prior thoughts, claiming the confectionary, "Thank you."

"He's certainly giving it his all isn't he?" The pink hedgehog ribbed, retaking her seat.

"As he does with all things," Blaze professed, "Any sign of Sonic?"

"No, but the cards don't lie," A sing-song lilt entered her tone, "We'll meet again today and this time he won't get away!"

"I trust in your confidence," Blaze tried to sound positive, examining her apple, "But the shifting nature of the future has me worried."

"Well, shouldn't just you guys visiting have some sort of effect? You know, changing the past a little might cause a big shift in the future," Amy astutely raised.

"I suppose," Blaze hummed, "Though I wouldn't want to rely on that."

Silence brewed between the two of them, though their surroundings remained undeniably loud. Blaze couldn't bring herself to stare at the hedgehog, not with the risk of Amy's chiding. Instead her eyes flickered between the pierced apple in her hand and their counterpart of the mountain range. If things were going to go badly, at least they had friends nearby. They'd make it through this.

"Blaze," Amy's voice finally gave Blaze something to focus on, "Since it's halloween, would you like to hear about a superstition? It's not a very scary one, I just find it interesting."

"Absolutely," Blaze agreed, turning her full attention to the hedgehog, "It might even match one of the ones from my world."

"Now I actually don't know where this rumour even comes from, but I've heard it so many times that there must be some sort of truth to it," The zombie mused before asking a frankly baffling question, "Have you ever watched Silver bite an apple?"

Blaze's brow raised, "I've... certainly seen him eat apples before, yes?"

"No, no," Amy shook her head, "Have you watched how he bites them? Like, really watched?"

Blaze paused for a moment, trying to process, "I don't think I understand what you're asking?"

"When Silver first bites an apple, does he nibble or does he take a big bite? Does he tilt his head when he moves in? Can you hear the crunch when he bites down? Do the juices run?" Amy rattled off question after question without so much as breathing.

"I'm," Blaze paused again, aware now of what she was asking but baffled as to why, "Not sure?"

"Well, you might want to pay attention when he gets back. How he bites an apple is very important," Amy proudly responded, "I've been trying to get Sonic to show me how he does it for ages, but I've never been in the right spot to watch. I don't think the tradition can be translated to chilli dogs either, the shape's too different..."

"What's so important about how he bites apples, how could that possibly matter for some superstition?" Blaze knew Amy was building anticipation; bluntness was the only way to cut her down.

"They say that how a person bites an apple," Though Amy was keeping her tone cool her eyes were wild with excitement, "Indicates how they kiss."

"Why would that be important to me," Blaze immediately responded, panic and harshness both present in her tone.

"I just thought you might be curious, that's all," Amy winked, "But let's just keep this rumour between us; if he knows, he might change how he bites," A smug smirk crept onto the teasing romantic's lips, "Do you think he'd nibble instead, or chomp harder than usual?"

Blaze felt her temperature spike, "I can assure you, I have no-

A rush of wind gusted across to halt in front of the pair before Blaze could properly reprimand Amy. A grinning blue blur came to a sliding halt, though his look was somewhat different from usual. Like Amy his clothes were tattered, though there was no sigh of green on him. A torn cap topped his head, he wore a sports jersey with tears and gloves that looked intended for baseball. Perhaps they just seemed that way due to the baseball bat in his hands, the words zombie slayer etched into it.

"Hey Amy," He greeted, "And Blaze! Long time no see."

"Sonic!" The pink hedgehog squealed, "You made it."

"Yeah, dealing with Eggman was no sweat; he practically folded the moment we showed up," The speedster grinned, "There's a little something left over in his base, but it seems like it'll take care of itself."

"Well, since you showed up in costume, this is for you," She went to hand over her caramel apple, but took the opportunity to instead snatch up Sonic's hand, "Come on, I want to try out the haunted house!"

They were gone before Blaze could ask about Eggman's base, but thankfully Knuckles and Tails were trailing behind. The young fox was wearing a lab coat and thick glasses with a series of crude looking tools in a bag by his side. Beside him stood a monster, presumably of Tails' design, in the form of Knuckles; stitch marks painted onto his fur, a bolt through his neck and heavy boots on his feet.

"Tails, Knuckles," Blaze called out, pausing them from pursuing the hedgehog pair, "How did the battle go."

"Oh, Blaze, you're here?" The young fox was understandably shocked, "Eggman made a giant jack'o-lantern airship. He was going to use it to drop bombs all around and flatten the fair, but we punctured it to stop him from taking off!"

"Yeah, it's like he wasn't ready for us. Hardly put up a fight," Knuckles agreed, messing with the boy's ears, "Keep your eyes on the mountain range though, Tails cooked up a real display with what's left over," He grinned mischievously to the fox, "Come on, let's go spook Sonic and Amy. They'll be to distracted with each other to see us coming."

"See you around Blaze!" Tails called out, now being pushed along by the Master Emerald's guardian.

And so the purple feline was left alone among the fairground bluster. Almost immediately however, her eyes returned to the cauldron only to find someone new had replaced Silver. Soon enough the feline caught sight of him, having taken to the air to subvert the crowds rather than struggle his way through them.

"So, it sounds like we didn't need to be here," The angel pointed out, descending from on high to sit next to the demon.

"You overheard all that," The red-clad cat mused.

His muzzle was still soaking wet, his chest fur and gloves were the same. If his fluff was any colour but white it would surely be showing through his angel outfit. He was messier now; his halo was bent and his pinned quills somewhat bedraggled. Blaze felt temperature spark at her cheeks again.

"Sonic arriving turned a few heads and they're not the quietest bunch," Silver reminded her before his eyes started to wander, "Did you find somewhere else to bob for apples? Where did you get the stick?"

"What?" In the wake of Amy's teasing and the other's arrival, she had entirely forgot her own candied apple, "Oh, no. I presume Amy found this on a stall. I didn't want to trust the water."

"It's still cleaner than what I'm used to I guess," Silver shrugged, rubbing the apple dry on his bicep sleeve, "I suppose we should still keep our eyes on the mountain, just in case something still goes wrong..."

"Probably..." Blaze's eyes felt magnetised to the green orb in his hand, so shiny and fresh.

When her gaze fled that fruit, they arrived at his mouth and caught a hint of fang, "I guess we can just wait out whatever thappens here, seems as good a spot as any."

"Yes," Blaze swallowed hard as he raised the fruit to his mouth.

The guardian wanted to look away, she longed to stare at the mountains or the festivities or her lap or anywhere else... but she could not muster the strength to pull her stare from him. His head tilted left ever so slightly, his clutch tight on the fruit's underside as he brought it to his lips. His mouth opened wide, it would be no small nibble! Teeth glided through green skin and into succulent green flesh, a resounding crunch sounded even above the ceaseless chatter of the fair. Blaze's tail fluttered wildly as her eyes clashed with the aftermath. Juices coated his lips, dripping almost as far as his chin.

Blaze's mind was abuzz with thoughts; how would that chomp translate to a kiss?! The parallel certainly wasn't a delicate peck; no innocent press of lips on lips. To call the kiss rough wouldn't be inaccurate; but the cat had seen him demolish a meal, he could have bitten so much harder. It hadn't been a quick bite though, it wasn't as though he'd been ravenous. Was his intent to savour? How long would he spend in lip-lock?! Did the juices on his chin imply the use of tongue? Was the truth of Silver's psyche that he longed for such torrid intimacy?!

Blaze heard the hedgehog hum as he took a second bite, a smirk plain on his lips.

"You're so vulgar," The demon grumbled, turning away from the angel.

"Huh?" Blaze could feel Silver's confused stare, "Wait, that's different. What did I do this-

Just as he tried to respond, Blaze's gaze locked on the ground, the chatter of the halloween carnival was finally overwhelmed. The cat's eyes were torn up to the mountain range just in time to find their surroundings bathed in a bright orange light! Where once a stone pumpkin-head had sat, one formed of fire and light was now glowing. It was like a massive firework had exploded on the horizon, perfectly set up to take the form of its pumpkin shaped shell!

The cat's eyes sped across their surroundings, in search of panicked looks from the surrounding citizens. Instead, the cat was met with looks of wonder and excitement at the view. Given the distance from the grounds to that mountain, the cat supposed there was reason to celebrate. They were all well outside of the blast radius. If this really was the only trouble they'd face tonight, there was nothing to worry about.

With those relaxed thoughts sweeping through her, Blaze found her attention drifting back to the hedgehog at her side. The fire dying down, sound having already long past, the cat fumbled for any distraction. Her grip tightened on the stick of the toffee coated apple in her hand, perhaps food could comfort her?

She tilted her head right and a bite was quickly taken, the thick candy coating was a little harder than she'd anticipated but gave way to the juicy flesh underneath. It was only as the cat was on her second chew, now watching the citizens go back to their festivities, that Blaze realised what she'd done.

Her eyes dropped to the candied fruit and found a small bite mark through the orange coating, revealing white-green beneath. She couldn't remember what exactly she'd done, but the shape of that hole immediately quickened her pulse. It was no perfectly cut oval; indents were plainly visible. Four additional small carvings; evidence of fangs use. If they'd been used here-

"I think we're okay now," The hedgehog piped up, his hand was upon her shoulder, "If that mountain was any closer I'd be worried about falling rocks..."

"Indeed," The guardian muttered under her breath.

"Oh um, Blaze?" His questioning forced her to look, "You've got toffee on your cheek."

He reached across without warning, sullying his white sleeve with an orange stain as he cleared the mark. Blaze caught sight of concern quirking onto his lips and her gaze quickly fell... only to crash into the apple she'd just bitten, held so close to his. The moment she noticed that though, his hand was back on her shoulder and holding tighter.

"Are you okay?" The angel asked, "You're really burning up..."

"So vulgar," Was all the demon could manage to murmur, her cheeks aflame and imagination running wild.

#Blaze the Cat #Silver the Hedgehog #Amy Rose #silvaze #sonic the hedgehog #sonamy

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scarlet-ancunin · 2 years

Note

Given its October 1 and the spooky setting is upon us I think spook requests are in Order huh?

Request: ian Wright x male reader where R convinces Ian to go to a hunted house it leads to in clinging to Reader arm the entire night. Give me literally the fluffiest shit you got bestie

Mini fic here we go haha (Spooky Fic)

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Hold My Hand Please

You got two tickets to the haunted theme park because they said to have the best haunted house there so you got two tickets for you and you lover Ian who actually didn't like hunted anything.

You waited for Ian to check Ziggy to rush to everyone and said "guys can you help me convince Ian to come with me to the Haunted House they said its really scary and i kinda want Ian to go with me."

Ben thought about it while sitting beside Addison who laughed along with Jenn "good luck" "come guys I'll even buy you lunch for two days." Ben looked at you "make it three and you got a deal" "fine three"

During lunch break ben was scrolling through his phone "heyy a haunted house just opened up in that theme park we should go honey" he looked at Addison who looked at him annoyed "no besides it will be more fun if we go in a group"

Ian was silent the whole time "why not me and Ian go with you two" Addison sat up "you know that would be great if you two show up" Ian shakes their head "absolutely not im not going" you pout "please love besides it will be fun and uh they are coming to" Ian glares at you "I'm not going" Jenn snickers "your just scared" Ian looked at Jen "I am not i just think its stupid" they said looking away.

"Sounds alot like im scared" Ben said and Ian pouts suddenly "ugh fine i go to this stupid thing only to prove im not scared." They said defiantly. You lean down kissing them softly. "It will be great"

You didn't expect Jenn or Magic to be there with Ben and Addison Ian said they forgot their wallet in the car going to get it so they didnt know everyone was there. You giggle "if you all had to come at least leave the Haunted House for me and Ian" Magic laughed "well we will be waiting by the end to see their face try to record their reaction" Ben said laughing.

They rushed off quickly blending in with the crowd once Ian came. "Looks like they stood us up....well while we are here lets do the haunted house first it just up there." Ian decides not to wear their glasses going here not wanting to lose them. "Uh sure" you walked with them up the little hill before stopping at the gate to give the man or rather zombie the ticket.

You noticed Ian stare at the "zombie" before leaning close to you. You smirk and pulled them close kissing them softly on the lips. "Come on love they are fake"

Ian was clinging to you so tightly that people could mistaken you both as one person. They made cute yelps when a jump scare happens out of nowhere. "Why did i agree to this" they would say and holding you close laying their head on your chest.

Ian kissed your cheek before nuzzling their face to your neck. "This place is giving me the creeps y/n" they said only to yelp when an ugly woman pops out of nowhere and you pulled them closer to you "we are almost at the exit" you promised them.

The last part of the haunted house had some ugly looking monster run after them and you turned around to see it coming and run as well realizing Ian was already ahead of you. The fear bumping more blood to your heart and you tried not to laugh at how quick your lover was out. You was behind them by a few seconds just in time to see everyone on the other side watching gripping his chest and panting their hair was slightly messed up.

You pat their back "love its okay it over" he flips you off and then points it towards their friends who was laughing. "Ah Ian that was not so bad" you said laughing and pulling them closer and kissing them on the cheek

They were all sitting in a little bar area within the theme park near some other things. Ian had their head resting against your shoulder having a cute pout still. "Come on love i promised you i will not leave you alone and you have to admit it was fun-" "and scary" they interrupted and you chuckle and moved so you was looking at them and kissed them deeply they blush lightly but responded with the same urge.

"Well we still have a few hours we can play some of these games around here maybe i can win something cute" you said smiling proudly. Ian held you close as you both walked towards a booth.

You and Ian's friend watching "they really are cute together" Addison said smiling and Jenn agreed. "Yea, both are nerds" Ben said and Magic chuckled lightly.

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Taglist: @justaproudslytherpuff, @sherazyjade, @the-masked-scorpio, @sugakookieswithacupoftae16, @happilydangerousworld, @harlekin6, @matthew-s-j

#unhinged desire simp #desire #quantum leap 2022 #quantum leap #quantum leap ian wright #ian wright quantum leap #ian wright headcanons #quantum leap ian wright x reader #ian wright #ian wright x reader #ian wright x y/n #dr ian wright

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justastrugglinghotchocolate · 2 years

Text

Chapter 2 of the Role Swap Fic

Quick thing, Go Tomorrow from The Haunting of Hill House (Netflix ver) goes pretty well with this chapter also mind the content warnings (nothing super serious, but can definitely be uncomfortable to read).

CW: Homophobia, An instance of dehumanization, Implied Panic Attack (it's short, but I'm being careful)

The week went by as quick as a candle in the wind. On the evening of Dorian's departure, the trio was at Lady Agatha's home. Though the original plan was to stay at each other's respective homes, Dorian had forgotten that he had promised to play one last time with Lady Agatha. Furthermore, she demanded Henry's presence as well, claiming she had found someone Henry would find quite fascinating. The two men had offered to go alone and meet up with the artist after, but doing so would have made Dorian late for his train. The choice ultimately came down to Basil.

“I'll go,” he had said quietly.

Dorian had looked at him with a worried glance, “You don't have to.”

“I'd like to hear you play one last time.”

“Will you be alright?” Henry had asked him, uncharacteristically gentle.

The artist understood why they asked. But between being uncomfortable for a night and never seeing Dorian again because of that, it was an easy choice to make.

“I will.”

Now, he sat next to Henry as far away from the stage as they could manage. Dorian played an assortment of both his and other pieces to a polite, but sizable crowd. So far no one had approached the artist or even recognized him. Basil had never been more content in the last few months.

Out of the corner of his eye, Basil noticed Henry staring at him.

“What is it, Harry?” he muttered without facing the man.

“You haven't drunk anything,” the lord noted, “We don't have to stay. We can leave a note and meet Dorian at the station.”

“I said I'd be alright. Besides, your aunt keeps looking over to you, she'll chase us if we leave.”

Henry nudged his foot under the table.

“Stop.”

The lord continued with a smirk on his face.

“Harry, I mean it.”

Henry kicked him in the shin, not hard enough to hurt, but enough that Basil scowled at him.

“I haven't seen that look since we were young,” the lord mused. He brought his foot back.

“If you kick me again, I will pour my drink on you,” Basil promised.

“There you are,” Henry smiled, making the other man cross his arms, “You're not mad at me. You're smiling.”

“I'm trying not to,” the artist chuckled, “I have half the mind to go through with it.”

“Half is not enough when it comes to me.”

Basil sighed, exasperated, “I see you haven't changed in my absence.”

Lord Henry smiled, “How would I have possibly changed? Oh, my dear Basil, change, like most things, is simply—”

“Harry,” Basil grabbed his glass threateningly, “This will be the first and only time that I will ever ask you. Please, for the rest of the night, don't tell me your vast and knowledgeable philosophy. I will listen to it another time, should you so desire. But tonight, I beg you to remain silent on those matters.”

The lord gave him a winning smile and a wink, “Only if you take a drink and relax a little.”

Basil smiled wryly, then took a sip of his glass, staring pointedly at Henry the entire time.

“You haven't acted so uptight since Oxford.”

“I was not uptight. I was the only rational one in our merry band.”

“Half of the dangerous things we did were your ideas.”

The painter placed his head on his hand, “Don't remind me.”

“The cat, Basil.”

“It was one time, Harry.”

“Until you left it food. Then it tore apart everything in our room. Including my thesis.”

The artist groaned, his face red. Henry smirked and took a drink, looking over to where Dorian was playing.

“That's the first conversation we've had that wasn't with or about Dorian,” he said, “Since we've known him, that is.”

“Well, you two are inseparable,” Basil unwittingly muttered.

The lord seemed to catch something in his tone. He snapped his head to look at him and opened his mouth to speak.

“I thought Lady Agatha was respectable enough to keep deviants out,” a voice said, clearly aiming to be heard by the other men.

Basil paled and stiffened in his seat. He gripped the glass hard enough his knuckles went white.

Henry quickly looked for the person who had spoken, seeming to find them. He got up and walked over to them, either ignoring or missing Basil's slight shake of his head.

“Lord Edwards,” Henry called out, “How odd it is to see you here!”

“Lord Wotton,” a gruff voice drawled, “You know who you're sitting with, don't you?”

A ragged breath tore it's way out of the artist, distantly he realized he was shaking. It seemed like the everyone else had gone silent and had their eyes split between the two lords and the lonesome painter.

“A friend of mine.”

“Perhaps you should rethink your friendships,” Edwards hissed, “Otherwise, learn not to bring filth through the door. It dirties your aunt's pristine home.”

Basil stood abruptly. He had to leave. It had been a mistake to come. How could he have been so prideful, so stupid—to think that this would be like any other night? For the rest of his life, Basil would never have 'any other night' again.

Henry didn't deserve to have society to turn against him, certainly not on the artist's behalf. And, if they turned their gaze to Dorian? No. No. Basil would not survive if the others faced high society's derision as he had. He walked out the door without sparing a glance to anyone. He thought he might have heard someone call his name, but he was already out the closest door.

He kept walking until he realized he had reached Agatha's garden. There were green bushes of different colored roses and fragrant red carnations whose aroma stayed on all who passed by. Finally, a large apple tree sat in the middle, it's roots fighting for dominance against cracking stones. A vibrant place in day, the moonlight distorted the branches of tree. They looked sickly thin, reaching maliciously towards the pacing artist. He must have been too careless, because his foot caught on one of the exposed roots and he stumbled.

Basil swore and kicked at it, before realizing how foolish he must look. With no desire to return to the main house, he resigned to sitting on a bench near the crimson carnations.

The world had been cruel as of late.

He wished to have Henry's skillful indifference, to not be affected by the staring, the whispers, and the people like Edwards who insulted and refused him at every turn. He wished that he might have had Dorian's childlike ease, that he could be as easily be liked as the young man he so admired. He wished he didn't have to fear what might happen to Henry or Dorian should he be caught behaving less than what high society determined to be perfect. The two of them made up for what he lacked, but now, Dorian would be off in France and Henry was Henry, he'd find some new entertainment.

Often he thought of leaving. Of picking a direction and walking forwards until his legs gave out and he was forgotten by the rest of the world. Henry told him London would forget some day, that he'd have his life as an artist back, perhaps even better than before. But with how his former associates treated him, it was likely he'd never be commissioned to paint in London again.

Besides, he hadn’t found the grace within himself to forgive Henry. The comfort was meaningless.

He stifled a sob with the back of his hand. Yes, the world had indeed been cruel.

Basil closed his eyes and listened to peaceful silence of the garden.

“Are you alright, friend?” A voice with a strange accent called.

Basil turned his head to see a man about Dorian's age approaching him. He was dressed in formal wear, definitely among some form of the higher class, yet his clothes differed subtly from that of usual high society. In his hand was a glass of red wine.

“You're sitting on a dirty stone bench,” the man said with a smile. He had a large welcoming smile on his face, “Is it really that comfortable?”

“Not particularly,” Basil spoke the words slowly, confused as to the origin of this strange man, “Who are you?”

“Oh,” the man sat next to the artist, then held his hand out, “Roland Andrew Davidson, and you are?”

Tentatively, Basil shook the man's hand, “My name is Basil Hallward.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Roland looked at the sky, “So, what has you out here on this dreary night? I can't quite understand how you English survive this cold.”

“It's rather mild really,” Basil muttered, “Where are you from?”

Roland's eyes lit up, excitedly he said, “Have you heard of the Windy City?”

“No.”

“Oh. Chicago, then?”

“I may have read about a city with that name some time ago.”

The other man nodded, “That's where I hail from.”

“You're an American, then?”

Roland nodded, “Have you ever traveled there?”

“No, absolutely not.”

“You said that rather passionately,” the American chuckled.

“Forgive me, but I've never heard anything good about your country,” Basil admitted.

“Oh, we know,” the other man raised his wine glass and winked, “We take pride in it.”

Basil laughed and Roland smiled.

“So, Basil, why are you here?”

The artist shrugged, “I walked here without realizing. Why are you here?”

“Everyone talks entirely too much for me to understand anything. The lady of the house invited me here, but I didn't expect so many to introduce themselves to me,” the man drank from his glass, “Then they started telling me about their families and then their family's families. And, I can't help but wonder if everyone in England is related to someone in someway.”

He sighed, then looked at Basil entreatingly, “Is this a usual event?”

“You're new,” the painter reassured, “People always find new things interesting. They'll calm down once you've established yourself.”

“How long will that be?”

“However long it takes, I suppose,” Basil watched as the other man plucked a carnation off a stem, “How did you get involved with Lady Agatha?”

“I was passing by and made a comment about her garden. We struck up conversation about my being from America and then she asked if I'd listen to her play. I agreed and she told me I had to meet her nephew.”

“Oh,” the painter's eyes widened with realization, “You're the 'fascinating' young man.”

“Are you the nephew?”

“No, thankfully not,” Basil smiled, “He's a friend of mine.”

“'Thankfully not'?” the American grinned, “Oh my, should I be afraid?”

“He'll spew some philosophical nonsense is all. Don't listen to them too closely and you should be fine.”

“Well, then,” the man's smile became sharp as flint, “Sounds like he'd be fun for an hour.”

“You presume you can match his wit?”

“No, but I can play the part of irritatingly dumb American decently well.”

“Oh, you're in character now then?” Basil joked.

Roland's eyes widened, then he burst into laughter. He laughed hard enough that Basil was sure it echoed across the grounds. Basil had to take the wine glass so the giggling man didn't spill it on himself.

“Basil, you've got some deceiving looks,” the man gasped, wiping a tear from his eye, “Oh, that was the best thing anyone here has said to me.”

“That doesn't seem very nice,” the artist gently handed him his drink back.

“Oh, no,” the man took the glass. He held it up to his lips and whispered as if telling a secret, “I much prefer those who are honest to you upfront; they are always the most endearing friends.”

Roland smiled knowingly at him, but the artist felt he had missed something important.

“Basil!” a voice called. Basil immediately recognized the voice as Henry's.

“Oh, if you'd like to meet him, now would be opportune,” the artist said to the other man quickly, “I'm over here, Harry!”

“Do I look presentable enough?” Roland asked, though his tone indicated he did not care for the answer.

“You look well enough. Don't worry too much, nothing you do will stop him from baffling you.”

“How exciting.”

Henry entered the garden hurriedly. He relaxed once his eyes landed on Basil.

“I thought you had left,” he said, relief evident in his voice, “I'm glad you didn't. Dorian is nearly finished, we'll meet him at the station.”

He looked towards Roland, the relief in his eyes suddenly hidden by an indifferent gaze, “Oh, I don't believe I've met you.”

“I'm the 'fascinating' man your aunt's told you about,” the man said with equal detachment.

“You're the American.”

“I am.”

Basil felt a sense of hostility between the men, though he could not fathom why. It seemed in their short conversation, the pair had already come to the same conclusion about each other.

“Forgive me, but my friend and I must be going.”

“You haven't even introduced yourself,” Basil said, baffled at Henry's behavior. He had known the man for ten years and never had he chosen to blatantly snub another person upon first meeting them.

“Oh, Lady Agatha can properly introduce us some other time,” Roland narrowed his eyes, “Until then.”

“Until then. Come on, Basil,” Henry began walking towards the exit of the garden.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Basil,” Roland smiled warmly, he held out his hand, “I hope to see you again someday.”

“I'd like that,” the artist smiled, shaking his outstretched hand, “Goodbye, Roland.”

He walked towards Henry, who had been watching impatiently. Then the lord guided him out of the garden. When they were out, he looked behind as if to make sure Roland hadn't followed.

“My aunt may be losing her taste along with her wits,” he muttered, “There wasn't anything in that man that could possibly fascinate me.”

“I thought he was rather pleasant.”

“You think everything which can hold a smile is pleasant. That is why you are an artist.”

As they got closer to the main house, Basil slowed, “Is Lord Edwards there?”

“No, my aunt had him leave. Regardless of... everything else, she won't allow someone to harass her guests.”

Basil wasn't reassured, when they were standing in front of the front door, he said, “I'm sorry for the scene I caused.”

“Edwards caused a scene, not you.”

“Basil, Henry, there you are!”

Dorian was standing at the door, eyes wide and slightly out of breath. He had a slightly crumpled white rose on his dark coat and he smiled happily, holding two bouquets; one of white roses, the other an assortment of tulips.

“I thought you two left me,” he laughed, approaching the two men, “Where did you run off to?”

Basil said, “We went to the garden. It's quite beautiful at night.”

“Really? Harry let you drag him away from a party to see a garden?” the blonde giggled, “My leaving is taking its toll on him already?”

“Not at all,” the lord waved his hand dismissively, “The only possible toll your leaving has on me is fear that you'll become an intellectual.”

“Doesn't my music make me one?”

“It makes you an artist, like dear Basil. Though unlike Basil, your looks and youth have prevented you from becoming a bore.”

“Basil's not a bore.”

“You say that because you are fond of him.”

“I say that because I'm right. You refuse to admit he's wonderful.”

“He's also right here,” the artist turned to Dorian, “Here, let me hold those for you. We should head to the station soon.”

The trio made their way to the carriages.

“Forgive me, but there isn't enough room in this one, Basil,” Henry pointed to another carriage, “Follow us in that one.”

“But I wanted—” Dorian began.

“You will,” the lord grabbed the young man's arm, “I must talk to you one last time, Dorian. Basil, meet me tomorrow, at four? I have no intentions to meet with Lady Agatha, and you're the only interesting person available.”

“You just said—”

“It's alright, Dorian,” Basil clutched the bouquets a little tighter, “I'll see you at the station. And yes, Harry, I'll meet with you tomorrow.”

When Basil stepped out of the carriage, holding the two bouquets, he was surprised to find Dorian standing on his own on the platform. He looked nervous and when his eyes met Basil's, the anxiety seemed to increase.

“Are you alright, Dorian?” Basil rushed up to the young man.

“Yes,” the young man's lip quivered, and he threw his arms around the artist, “Oh, Basil, Harry has told me the most horrible thing.”

“What? What has he told you now?”

The blonde hesitated, before whispering, “I need to tell you something, but I fear you'll like me less!”

The artist pulled away to look the young man in the eyes, “Dorian, there is nothing in this world that will make me like you any less.”

“Really?”

“Nothing at all. Not even what you have to say.”

The blonde sighed, “Oh, Basil. You are too kind to me. Every word you say goes entirely to my head and I always believe you.”

He embraced the painter again. He stayed there, silent long enough that Basil feared he may have passed out. Finally he softly began, “I l...”

Then he violently pulled away with an anguished, “Oh, I can't tell you! Harry's right, if I tell you now, I have no reason to come back! There may be nothing left for me in England if I say it tonight!”

“What?” the artist was hopelessly confused. The man had gone from nervous and frightened to vehement and pained in the span of a few seconds.

“Basil, when I return, I promise I'll tell you,” Dorian grabbed the other man's hands, “And I will return. Just, please, wait for me. Promise me you won't forget me.”

“I could never forget you, Dorian Gray,” Basil confessed, “You are my art, but most of all, you are my dear friend.”

The conductor made one last call for all passengers.

“You need to go,” the painter handed him the flowers, “Be safe in France, please stay out of trouble.”

“Thank you for everything, Basil,” the young man took the tulip bouquet and quickly examined it. He pulled out a red tulip and affixed it to the artist's coat, “I'll come back. And when I am back, you'll sit and listen to what I must tell you. I'll see you again, I promise.”

“Goodbye, Dorian,” a thick sadness had befallen the painter's soft voice.

“Goodbye for now, Basil,” the blonde embraced the man one last time. The he quickly boarded his train.

Basil stayed in place, until the train was out of sight. When he finally left, it was two in the morning.

Though the walk back to his home was a little over forty minutes, the painter made no effort to hail a cab. He was exhausted of talking with people and wanted nothing more but the ambient silence at this hour.

When he had read the letter Dorian sent him about his departure, it hadn't felt real. He didn't believe it until the young man declared such in Henry's study. The week had been enjoyable, like all of the three years he had known Dorian had been. But nothing in his life had reached the same dizzying, soul consuming heights of the first few months of his friendship with the man. Then Henry had become apart of their duo and then Dorian had pursued his music and then that night. He hadn't properly painted the man since finishing his portrait—he didn't even know where that was now.

Henry had told Dorian once, after an affair involving some actress, which neither would fully explain to Basil, that the young man would enter a room and all who had seen him would be worse for having done so. He had claimed that they'd be entirely moved by Dorian's beauty, they'd never know what the word meant.

Dorian had laughed at the notion—he wanted his music to do that, not himself—but Basil couldn't help but feel that, for once, Henry was correct. The artist found his work greatly suffering after Dorian stopped sitting for him. Perhaps his career would have ended early even without that night.

Now, his friend and muse, was headed to France. It was likely he'd never see the man again.

The painter sighed as a heavy heartache came over him. Tomorrow, he'd have to start searching for some form of work. He was running out of funds quickly and he had no intentions of asking for money from Henry.

He reached his home a quarter after three. The empty house was silent, even the stairs refused to creak as he walked up to his room. He discarded his coat, too tired to fully change into sleepwear. A flash of red caught his eye.

It was the tulip Dorian had given him. He picked it up and softly thumbed the petals. He brought it to his table and found the music box, still open. It had become a nightly ritual to play it—a silly attempt to comfort himself as this day approached.

He placed the tulip down and winded the box. Within the first few notes, Basil began to sob.

First/Previous/Next

Before anything else; because of Tumblr's chosen font, what Dorian tries to say to Basil looks like he stammers an 'I'. It is very important to me that you know that he says 'I' followed by the beginning of a word that starts with 'L', until of course he trails off. Make what you will of that.

And we've begun! As always, thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed. Feedback is very much appreciated-- feel free to ask questions if anything's confusing.

I plan to post this story to AO3 eventually. If you are willing please suggest some title ideas, I am terrible with titles and I currently have nothing.

Fun fact: this was going to be five chapters each 2000 words. I had to split this chapter in half, so we'll see what happens I guess.

Next chapter we learn a little more about the American in town!

AO3 link:

#the picture of dorian gray #tpodg #basil hallward #dorian gray #lord henry wotton #fanfic

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