#i couldn’t find a transparent image of him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

therandomartmaker · 6 months

Text

[Image ID: An artwork featuring Danny Phantom, full green excluding his hair and white accents, transparent, sitting on a pile of rubble head tilted slightly upwards with his eyes closed. His hair is wispy, he’s got pointed ears and he’s much more identifiable as a ghost. The rubble includes the F of the Fenton Works sign, a satellite dish of some kind, pipes and concrete. The rubble, and Danny, is surrounded by yellow-black striped caution tape. Above Danny’s head is a conversation, in white, “It’s been ten years,” has been written, and in green, “It’s only been 10 years,” is written. /End ID]

Day 31: “It had been a decade since anyone last lived at Fenton Works. Or so people thought.”

tbh this took like. Less than half an hour to make haha. I may have forgotten to do this yesterday lmaooo. To make up for it, here’s a continuation of this prompt by @cryinginthevoid that i filled, wherein Danny has been stuck haunting the rubble of a ruined Fenton Works after his permanent death, only to later be approached by a very much alive Damian, who is the first person to See Danny in over 10 years. So yep, bonus challenge post 2 under the read more :D

Damian had visited. He’d promised and he’d followed through on it, Danny sitting still and watching as Damian approached, day after day, even after Danny had no more words to say, no more information to give. To quote, he was “a tolerable friend despite your intolerance for proper respect.” Danny had no idea if that was a good or bad thing, if he were to be honest.

But still! It’d been 10 years since he’d to spoken to someone, something other than the air. Damian said his brothers wouldn’t follow him, despite saying he’d bring them to meet Danny during one their tentative hangouts, and Danny supposed that was a good thing. He didn’t want Damian to sound crazy or look crazy for talking to thin air, especially not by his family.

Though, what was interesting was the weird amount of black-haired blue-eyed outsiders hanging around town. The FentonWorks rubble had a pretty good view of most of town, despite it’s slow erosion into dust, so Danny was able to see the several strangers in town whenever he went looking.

Damian said his family was looking into ectoplasm due to it’s relation with the dead, and trying to find if anyone around town knew how to access their information databases. They needed to know if there was a way to relieve “Jason’s” burden of the “Lazarus Rage,” and prepare in the case someone else in the family acquires it. And that ‘Lazarus Pits’ are classified information, but who did Danny have to share it to, no one could talk to him except Damian, anyway.

And truthfully, those Lazarus Pits Damian mentioned sounded like pools of ectoplasm that Maddie and Jack would’ve killed for. Danny could only suggest looking into ‘ecto-acne’ treatments, as from one of the stories of Vlad Masters Danny’d heard, it sounded like the short-term effects of ectoplasm exposure.

—

Damian didn’t know why he was sharing so much confidential with Daniel, but he didn’t seem to mind, and didn’t seem to talk to anyone else. He figured it’d be fine. Daniel needed to know as much context as possible in order to help Damian.

Daniel was strange, he spoke in large amounts, but quieted as though he doesn’t expect someone would respond to him. He rarely moved, and there was something unnatural about him. Perhaps the lack of a rise and fall of his chest, or the way his eyes shined.

Damian couldn’t help but make comparisons to the dead he’d seen. Lightless glossy eyes, pale skin, sallow flesh. Daniel was built like a dying or dead person.

Damian… worried. He’d grown close to the other boy, Daniel’s snark to Damian’s sharp tongue and his acceptance of Damian’s veganism, multiple other factors about Damian never drove Daniel away from him. It was nice, being accepted by someone outside of his family. Daniel’s health was concerning, malnutritioned and Daniel’s reaction time was slow. Multiple things were off-kilter about him, and Damian wanted to know why. So he could help.

Because Danny was his friend.

—

Dick observed Damian. He’d taken to pacing the length of the hotel room, and he seemed worried about his new friend (!!! Dami has a friend!!!! And he’s worried about him!!!), muttering about bringing food to the next time he visited. Dick kinda felt bad about what he was about to tell Dami.

“Richard, why are you looking at me?” Dami asked, stopping his pacing to look up at Dick, a soft half-hearted glare on his face.

“Uh well, Tim…” (fuck! He wasn’t supposed to mention Tim!)

“What did Drake do?”

“Tim told me to tell you that we’d gotten enough information and that we were leaving in two days, just in case something new crops up!” Dick rushed, knowing that Dami would loathe the information, but despise Dick more for not telling him.

Dami needed to say goodbye to his new friend, after all, but from what Dick could tell, they couldn’t even have long-distance communication, because “Daniel Who Liked Being Called Danny” didn’t even have a phone!

Dami’s click of his tongue was expected, and his expression had worsened too. Dick had messed up, but he didn’t think there was anyway to break it gently that Damian would have to leave his newfound friend.

The boy stormed off, leaving the room with a door slam. Dick felt bad, man. Well… Dick did have a spare phone he was free to gibe to someone… Perhaps Danny would like it?

#randomartmaker writing #randomartmaker art #digital art #dpxdc #dcxdp #danny phantom #short story #small story #dick grayson #richard grayson #damian wayne #damian al ghul #ectober 2023 #ectoberweek2023

456 notes · View notes

bunnysbrainrot · 8 months

Note

Hi! May I request Crowley x reader in a fitting room? x3

“Darling, won’t you come out and show me?” Crowley purred as he waited outside the fitting room.

Being with Crowley had shown you a life of elegance - and luxury shopping was a newfound activity. On your own, you would never consider getting a dress that cost as much as your monthly rent, but here you were. You ogled at the price tag attached to the article.

$2,500

You sighed, staring back in the mirror. To your own credit, the dress did suit you well, but somehow you still weren’t sure about it.

“I don’t know about this one,” you said softly.

Crowley’s voice was just beyond the thick velvet curtain that had given you some privacy. He slipped a hand around the edge of the curtain.

There was a slick flirtation in his tone, “Maybe I can give my input.”

You watched him enter the fitting room - your silence told him everything he needed to know. Crowley found you gorgeous wearing just about anything, or even nothing at all. The one issue he wanted to help you with was your self image. After endless months of shopping each week, you had a full walk-in closet full of new dresses, shirts, coats, skirts, and pants to don. At times, it could be a little too much.

But this outfit was special. Your anniversary with the King of Hell was approaching, and you’d both insisted on sporting a new look for the occasion. That pressure was precisely why you couldn’t decide how you felt about this dress. Was it good enough for him?

The demon’s eyes found your backside first, a smirk tugging at the his lips. Crowley reached out a tentative hand, grazing your waistline as he admired the way it hugged your curves. He let out a low hum as his hands roamed toward your ass.

“Crowley, I’m serious. I don’t know if… if it’s good enough,” you admitted, but refusing to move his hands. They wandered further - up your tummy, sweeping out away from your chest, to your shoulders. Crowley scanned you in the mirror, his eyes more analytical this time.

“I would share my thoughts. But, they wouldn’t be appropriate.”

You smacked him lightly, “I mean how I look while clothed, pervert.”

Crowley chuckled in reply, looking back into your eyes in the mirror ahead of you.

He leaned toward your ear, “You look good enough to eat.”

Laughing softly, you glanced to the floor for a moment. Your cheeks had flushed to a pale pink at his flirtation, somewhat changing your mind on the dress. Surely if his hands were already roving over you, it would be a great choice.

“In fact… I think we should test something.”

You looked at him quizzically, cocking an eyebrow at him back in the mirror. Crowley gave your hips a gentle squeeze, grinding his own into your ass. You let out a soft whine, head falling back against his shoulder.

“What are we testing?” your voice had hushed with the heat pooling between your thighs. Crowley gave your ass a firm squeeze before he lifted your dress, painfully slow, up your thighs.

“Well, kitten,” he began, peppering your neck with kisses. “I need to see if it looks even better like this.”

Crowley pressed a hand to your lower back, coaxing you to bend at the waist in front of him. The dress had perfectly accentuated every curve the King loved - from the small of your waist, to your supple ass now pushed against his crotch. Images flowed through his mind a mile a minute. Hell, he could take you right here.

It’s not like anyone would say anything, anyways. They wouldn’t dare make a remark against the King of Hell, or his beloved.

Your breathing labored as he ground into you once again. His erection greeted you through the layers of fabric, an incessant teasing of what he could swiftly deliver to you.

“Let’s see,” Crowley cooed, hitching the dress past your hips and bunching around your middle. The King lowered himself to his knees, eyes keen on your ass and thighs. He spread your ass to find your clothed sex, admiring the wetness that soaked your panties, the semi-transparency showing him an outline of your slick folds.

He planted a kiss on your ass, moving closer toward your pussy. You shuddered against him, though he now held you steady with a firm hand on the front of your thighs.

“I think I’ll take you just like this,” Crowley whispered, his breath hot against your core. You ground backward against him, planting your ass firmly against his face. He let out a low chuckle while he hooked a finger at the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down masterfully to your ankles.

Without warning, Crowley’s tongue dove between your folds, moving steadily against your throbbing clit, swirling and sucking to draw out those sweet noises he loved. You fought back a moan, biting your lip while you watched him in the reflection - crouched, both hands now scouring your exposed thighs while his tongue worked on you. A high-pitched whine fell past your lips when Crowley replaced his tongue with a finger, dipping smoothly into your entrance.

A moment passes without any movement. You whine again, now bucking your hips on the single digit. Crowley bit gently into your ass, finally curling his finger downward to stroke your sweet spot, earning another soft moan in reply.

His voice rumbled against your skin, “I think you’ll be even prettier in this while I’m taking you from behind. Don’t you agree?”

You nodded dumbly, looking back at him. Crowley met your eyes, half-lidded with lust.

“Look at yourself, pretty girl. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Easing into him, Crowley guided a second finger into you, curling in sync with the first. The added size stretched you slowly around his fingers. Heat roiled in your aching cunt, walls fluttering as he picked up the pace. His knuckles crashed against you as he deepened his angle, your slick coating his fingers and down his palm. The lewd sounds coming from your pussy were nothing short of blasphemous. Mixed now with your drawn out moans, Crowley smiled at you in the mirror while you struggled to keep your eyes trained on your own face, now completely overrun by pleasure.

“That’s a good girl. My beautiful, darling girl.”

The praise left you shuddering around his fingers when your orgasm took you over. Your back arched into his touch, then doubled over as the shockwaves of the climax coursed through your tight cunt. Crowley’s pace slowed, but remained deep, not letting you catch a breath for a single moment.

Your plea came out as a pathetic moan, “Crowley, this is going to ruin the dress.”

“We’re just breaking it in, sweetness. Besides, it’s yours anyway.”

His fingers struck your g-spot once again, bringing out a soft cry from you. Crowley slowed his pace and removed his fingers, locking eyes with you in the mirror as he licked his fingers of your slick, moaning at the taste. He stood and positioned himself behind you, hard cock pressed firmly against your ass. Your hips bucked backward on instinct to give yourself more friction.

Rhythmically, he rolled his hips into you, easing his erection against your sex, and gasping in admiration as your expression changed in the mirror.

“Crowley,” you whispered, “please.”

The King replied with a small tsk tsk tsk, looking down at your ass pressed against him.

“My love, when we’re alone like this, you know what to call me. I suggest you correct yourself.”

Your eyes widened as you realized your mistake. Calling him by his name was a pathetic effort to remind him that this was not the time, nor place, for this. But, if Crowley decided that this risk was worth it, then you would follow his lead.

“Sir,” you replied; Crowley’s head snapped up, staring you down darkly, “I need you.”

He hummed contently, his hands reaching for his belt. You heard the metal clinking together before his pants shoved halfway down his thighs. A heavy cock slapped against your ass, making you hitch a breath. Crowley gripped the base of his length and eased the thick head into your folds, gliding over your swollen clit.

You let out a wanton moan; the King smiled at you in the mirror before he lined himself up with your entrance, aching with anticipation. Crowley gripped your chin and directed your attention to him as he slowly eased into you. The two of you sighed while his cock stretched you out, up until he bottomed out in your warm cunt.

Crowley began to thrust, though slow and drawn-out at first, and finding a steady pace. The noises from before, when his fingers had ravaged your insides, were nothing in comparison. Surely, if there was anyone within earshot, they’d have heard you.

The wet thwack of his hips crashing into yours echoed around the dressing room. No matter how badly you wanted to, you didn’t dare look away from the mirror, in which you saw exactly what Crowley was doing. One hand gripped your hip, while the other that had been on your chin had lowered to your throat, tugging you upwards and against his chest.

He fucked into you at a merciless pace, never hesitating to whisper into your ear.

“You’re taking me so well, princess.”

You cried out when he bit into your shoulder. Crowley laughed against your skin, finding his way back to your ear.

“Stretching you out, buried deep in that sweet little pussy of yours… that’s where I belong. And you know it, too.”

His cock pounded against your cervix, now impossibly deep inside of your convulsing walls. A second orgasm crashed over you; Crowley groaned as your walls clamped around his cock.

Crowley took hold of your arms, having been limp at your sides, trying to gain purchase of anything in front of you. He gripped each wrist and tugged them back, bracing himself with the tension as he folded you over as you’d been before.

The quick pace from before resumed, his hips snapping into yours. You softly cried out while Crowley pounded you from behind, unable to move your hands to touch him.

He said amusingly as you struggled in his grip, “I know, sweet girl. I know what you need, but Daddy needs to take of this first.”

The thrusts became harsher as Crowley worked you toward another orgasm, responding with a deep thrust each time you shuddered around his cock. You glanced back up at him, your lustful eyes locking onto his. You gave him a playful smile before clenching onto him again, purely to draw out that breathy moan you loved. His hips began to falter as his orgasm chased your own.

“Come on, sweetness, finish with me,” he demanded through gritted teeth. You’d known exactly how to send him over that edge.

All you had to do was meet his eyes, give him a devious smile, and clench down onto his cock, and he’d be undone. As you’d thought, this is what took him over. Crowley threw his head back as his orgasm rolled through him. Warm ropes of his cum flooded your walls, coating them with his seed. Your orgasm followed soon after, making Crowley whine as you tightened around his sensitive tip.

You both caught your breath before he pulled out of you. He lowered himself to see the aftermath, ogling at the sight of his cum leaking from your stretched hole. Crowley collected it on his fingers, brushing over your clit. You stood there on wobbly legs as Crowley brought his hand to your mouth, letting you taste him around his slick fingers.

“Can’t let it go to waste,” he remarked. “Swallow.”

It was salty and thick on your tongue. You licked him clean and swallowed dutifully, smiling back at him. Crowley leaned in to kiss your cheek and helped you stand more fully before adjusting his pants around his hips.

The King was no novice with aftercare, though this dressing room was not ideal. Crowley gently tugged your dress back down your thighs, planting kisses on your legs along the way. He gave you soft praises as he neatly folded your original outfit, securing it in his arms.

“You did so well,” he whispered, kissing your temple, then your lips. You could still taste yourself on his mouth, foreign and erotic.

“Let’s get that dress. I’ll have a bath drawn for you when we’re home.”

“And after the bath?” You quipped with a smirk.

Crowley let out a low chuckle, ushering you out of the dressing room.

“Round two, already?”

Hey! Do you want a one-shot of your favorite characters? My inbox is open for requests, so ask away!

-Bunny

#fanfiction #supernatural #spn #spnfandom #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural smut #crowley spn #crowley x reader #crowley smut #crowley supernatural #crowley x reader smut

227 notes · View notes

artiststarme · 1 year

Text

Pain's An Old Friend

Based on a prompt from @nburkhardt! I hope it met your expectations. Let me know what you guys think in the comments!

Now with a second and third part!

~*~*~*~

Steve was no stranger to hiding his own injuries. Growing up in the home that he did, it was practically second nature to hide unsavory things from people in order to protect the Harrington image. From a young age, he would go to school with his mom’s concealer painted high on his cheekbone to cover the evidence of his father’s anger. He’d hide his pain during practice when he sprained a ligament so his coach wouldn’t pull him from the Friday night game. He was well used to hiding his pain in front of people that could weaponize it.

After joining the Party though, Steve started to lower his guards. He’d speak freely about past injuries and slightly more loosely about his current ailments. He was still the babysitter though, the guy that the kids looked toward to protect them. He couldn’t be fully transparent about his migraines or the constant blurriness in his left eye.

One day though when the kids needed a ride to the arcade on Steve’s day off, he had to be honest with them. His brain felt like it was trying to escape the confines of his skull and his vision pulsated with every heartbeat.

“Hey, I’m sorry guys but I can’t today. My head is killing me so I need to just relax and wait for it to blow over. How about you guys ask Eddie? He got off at 4 today so I’m sure he could give you a ride.”

Dustin, Lucas, and Will were satisfied with his explanation. They wished him well, volunteered their moms to come drop off soup to him later, and got back on their bikes. Mike though was visibly annoyed. He hung back after the others and turned to face Steve with a glare.

“Seriously, Steve. You can’t do one thing to help us? It’s not even that far out of your way!”

“Dude, I already told you I have a headache. I’m not driving anywhere,” Steve tried to explain. He didn't know why Mike was so mad. Yeah, they’d wasted time biking to Steve’s house instead of directly to the arcade but it only added an additional five minutes to their commute. It would only take them about ten minutes to get there on their bikes, a completely reasonable distance.

“A headache? You know how pathetic that is? There’s people that are dying, Steve. And you’re complaining that your head hurts a little bit. You’re just useless!” Mike hissed at him.

And wasn’t that a surprise. He and Mike still weren’t on great terms, obviously, but he liked to think that they were making progress. To find out that they were still in the same position as they had been all those years ago when Steve was Nancy’s asshole boyfriend and Mike was her bratty little brother, was gut wrenching.

“Fine, I’ll give you assholes a ride. Let’s go guys. Leave the bikes, you can pick them up tomorrow. Come on, before I change my mind.”

The drive to the arcade was uneventful. They all made it to the arcade in one piece and no one said thank you aside from Will, as per usual.

The ride home however was a different story. The sun had started to set and Steve’s headache had devolved into a migraine. His vision was tunneling and he could hardly keep his eyes open against the pain in his head. He was taking one of the back roads home and was almost there when a shadow passed in front of his car. Steve’s left fender hit the being before he could turn the wheel and when he did, he steered the Beemer directly into a tree on the side of the road.

Steve’s head slammed into the steering wheel, hard enough to lacerate his temple and spill blood all over the driver’s side dash. Thankfully, he didn’t lose consciousness and his migraine wasn’t significantly worse than before so he was reasonably sure that he didn’t have another concussion, at least not a severe one.

Now, a normal person might walk to the nearest house and call the police or an ambulance. Steve though, was not normal. He picked up his keys, wallet, and sunglasses, and walked all the way home. It wasn’t too far, a mile at most but with his head hurting the way it did, it felt like forever. He would call Thatcher Tire tomorrow morning and get the Beemer towed then he would call his dad to beg him to cover the damages and everything would be fine. But the second Steve got back to his house, he laid on the couch and took a nap. He’d worry about everything else the next day.

~*~*~*~

Steve had forgotten that he made plans with Robin for today. He woke up to manic rambling that he was too tired to follow and his best friend pulling at his arms.

“Go ‘way,” he mumbled when she once again jostled him.

“Steve, wake up! What the hell did you do? You have blood all over your head and you weren’t responsive. You were supposed to come over to my house to pick me up so we could make cupcakes and watch movies! I walked over when you didn’t show and I had to walk in to find you dying on your sofa! What the fuck, Steve?!”

“Not dying and please stop yelling, my head hurts.”

“I’m sure it does, Steve! Your entire forehead is black and blue and there’s blood everywhere. Oh my god, I might actually throw up. Stay alert, I’m going to go throw up then I’m going to call Eddie for a ride since neither one of us has the cash to pay for an ambulance. Stay conscious or I will hurl all over you,” she promised.

True to her word, she went and threw up in the kitchen, grabbed some ice for his head, and then used the living room phone to call Eddie.

“Hey Mr. Munson, is Eddie there? It’s Robin Buckley… I know but I don’t have a license yet, I’m poor… Touché, Mr. Munson… Okay, great! I’ll see him soon then!”

She hung up the phone and returned to Steve's side. “Okay, he’s on his way so we just have to wait. We’re both going to give you a long talk about taking better care of yourself and not damaging any more brain cells, got it?”

He tried to nod at her but the miniscule movement only caused his vision to white-out and his eyes slammed shut. The last thing he heard was Robin screeching at him to wake up before everything went black.

~*~*~*~

When his eyes opened next, Steve was in a bare hospital room with both of his hands restrained. No, people were holding them. Upon further investigation, he noticed that Eddie was sleeping at his right side with his hands wrapped around Steve’s wrist and Robin was at his left with her fingertips pressed over his pulse point.

With both of his friends there, the feeling of security almost willed him back to sleep once again. But then he heard loud yelling coming from outside of his hospital room.

“Where is Steve Harrington?! I got a call about another head injury, is he alright? I will not calm down, that’s my kid and none of you goddamn idiots will tell me anything about him! Where is he?”

The door flung open to reveal Chief Jim Hopper in all of his furious glory. All of his anger melted into worry when his eyes met Steve’s.

“Hey Hop,” Steve told him with a small smile.

“Do not ‘hey Hop’ me. What the hell, kid? First I get a panicked call from Robin that you’re in the hospital again, then I get a call from Callahan that he found your car bent around a tree, and then I find out that I’m your emergency contact.” His eyes still held a hint of panic but now they looked tired too as if the events of today had aged him several years.

“Okay, it’s not bent around the tree. Callahan’s a fucking liar and I keep telling you so! I lightly bumped the tree. Lightly! Everything worked out fine! It’s all good, Hop.”

“Are you not hearing me? Do we have to get your hearing checked too?” Hopper laughed sardonically and threw his hands up exasperatedly. “Steve, you gave all of us heart attacks because you didn’t tell us that you had been in a car accident! And you could’ve died going to sleep like that with a concussion! You know better.”

“Look, in my defense, I didn’t know it was a concussion. And what else was I supposed to do? I couldn’t drive myself to the hospital,” It made sense to Steve but apparently not to Hopper or the now-awake Eddie.

“Steve-” Eddie whispered in confusion but Hopper’s screaming cut him off.

“You should’ve called someone! Me, Munson, Wayne, hell even Joyce! Wha-the-fu-goddam-ahh!” He stammered with feeling. “Why were you even driving in the first place? You were at home!”

“The kids wanted to go to the arcade and when I told them I couldn’t, Mike said that people had bigger problems than headaches. And he was right. I just wanted to do something useful and then it hit me all at once when I was driving home,” Steve shook his head. He should’ve taken a nap or something instead of giving them a ride then they wouldn’t be in this position right now.

“Of course it was Mike. It’s always Mike fucking Wheeler,” Hopper scoffed under his breath. His profound annoyance towards the kid continued. “Steve, you can’t listen to that bitch-ass kid! He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Next time, call me and I’ll handle it.”

“Okay, well I will remember that for next time. Next time I have a migraine, I won’t give the kids a ride and I won’t crash my car lightly into a tree. Alright, when are they releasing me? I just want to go home and go back to normal,” Steve said.

Hopper and Eddie shared a look before Eddie woke Robin and lugged her from the room. Watching that display, he knew he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear and he didn’t.

Hopper chuckled humorlessly, “I’m detaining you. You’re coming home with me when they release you.”

“‘Detaining me’? For what? I didn’t do anything,” Steve asked him in confusion.

“For acting like a dumbass. You’re going to recover back at my place, Harrington. El and I are going to keep an eye on you.”

“I’m not going to-” Hopper cut him off with a yell that made him jump.

“You’re detained, Harrington! No more arguments!”

“Hop, that’s kidnapping!” He proclaimed in outrage.

“You’re not a kid, it’s fine,” Hopper brushed him off.

“What- that’s not even, you can’t just force me to accept your help!”

“Watch me!” Hopper said indignantly. This was ridiculous, despite the evidence, Steve was more than capable of taking care of himself. He was an adult, dammit!

“Hopper, you can’t just hold me against my will. I-I have rights!”

“Yeah? File a complaint. I’m the chief of police and I’m basically your dad so I’m going to take care of you whether you like it or not. Now, are you going to accept this so I can let your friends in and we can all eat Jello or are you going to keep arguing with me?”

Steve looked at him blankly for a moment before he yielded. “Jesus Christ, fine. You win.”

“I know kid, I always do.” He patted Steve’s foot and opened the door for Eddie and Robin to slink back in. “Alright, you better have gotten orange or I’ll kick you both back out.”

Steve had a lot to learn about accepting help and being forthcoming about his injuries. But with his dad, his boyfriend, and his best friend by his side, he had no doubt that he'd get there eventually. He didn't have any other choice.

Permanent Tag List: @doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @carlyv @pyrohonk @straight4joekeery @trippypancakes @conversesweetheart @estrellami-1 @suddenlyinlove @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @perseus-notjackson @anaibis @merricatty @maya-custodios-dionach @grtwdsmwhr @manda-panda-monium @lumoschild @goodolefashionedloverboi @mentallyundone @awkwardgravity1 @anzelsilver @ghosttotheparty @jestyzesty @gregre369 @mysticcrownshipper

#Hopper does indeed keep him captive at the Byers house for two weeks #Steve is over it day two and almost wishes he could go back to a life without parents #Hopper also makes Steve and Eddie keep the door open three inches and that's not working for anyone #I don't know what he hit and neither does he #stranger things #steddie #fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #will byers #chief hopper #officer callahan

636 notes · View notes

mayearies · 9 months

Text

… ꒰ঌ ໒꒱

❛ I THINK ❜

miles morales

˚ʚ property of ©hiimayee ɞ˚

genre: fluff | warnings: a snowbunny (for you gwen dislikers), shade towards gwen (from rio and jeff and mayyyybe from miles a lil), maybe a little ghostflower idk?, spanish authors input: made it a series lmao translations: sabes que todavía estás conectado a tierra, ¿verdad? / you do know you’re still grounded, right? . sí mami, lo sé / yes mami, i know . te vi tratando de poner tu mano contra la de ella, no te hagas el tonto / i saw you trying to glaze your hand against hers, don't play dumb

summary: hard choice. or is it? ♬ song: I THINK by tyler, the creator

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ <- prev | next

after the whole interrogation with the guidence counceler and his parents, the arguement with his parents at the party that celebrated his father’s promotion to captain, e1610 miles dragged himself to his room with an annoyed set of mind. he had too much going on for everything to be considered alright.

he threw off his puffer jacket and sighed as he sat on his bed, his sketchbook flipping open as it flew off the bed to a drawing of, well—gwen.

he had something to confess, he couldn’t choose. he tried to but he couldn’t. ever since that day he met you, he couldn’t get you off of his mind. even if he hadn’t seen you in a minute. but then again, he missed gwen. and how she was basically the first friend he’s made since his life changed forever. in a way, she was there every step of the way.

but you, you did enough for him by just being in his line of vision. just sitting next to him in math or physics, making small talk. your voice he was lovesick for. but he felt like he couldn’t share sensitive things with you yet. like how he was spiderman, how he’s seen multiple dimensions, etc. he wanted to wait.

he furrowed his brows, sighing again as he put on his headphones and leaned back into his pillow. but it just kept coming back. an image of you and her in the same frame. he wishes one of you were here with you right now.

“miles! got a minute?”

the celebration on the roof of the morales’ apartment building could be heard from below. but if you were close enough, you could hear two teens just talking about life. which would be inturrupted by two parents. it didn’t entirely peak your interest, you were just hungry and wanted something from the bodega.

“shoot! shoot, i have to go.” “really?”

gwen gave miles a look that basically said ‘you know why, just dont make it obvious’ before turning her attention back to his parents. “yeah, i just- forgot to get my steps in! y’know, cardio woo!” “it was nice catching up, gwe- i mean gwanda.” “yeah, it was… nice to see you again.”

as she left, he held a look of sorrow. he didn’t entirely want her to leave, but he knew his parents somewhat did. the first impressions of her were not the best. y’know, the whole first name thing. he sighed over the railing with his face in his hands.

his ma stayed behind him whille his dad went somwhere else. she felt bad for pretty much embarassing him infront of her. she could tell he liked her. “i hope i didn’t ice your game, man.”

“nobody my age says that, mom.” “well, she seems like a nice girl.” “hm.” “y’know, you’re a really transparent boy.” “what does that even mean, ma?”

straightening his posture, his mom was able to fix him up a little. bruhsing dust off his jacket, straightening his shirt, fixing his hair. things a mother should do.

“it means you’re not good with hiding your feelings, miles. i can tell you gravitate heavily towards her. you wanna see her again. and i’m not saying i don’t approve of it, it’s just… seeing my little boy who was shorter than me a little over a year ago is growing up and finding his new self. something about that pains me. but i need to gt over it, as every mother has to do at some point. but promise me something.”

“mhm?” “take care of that little boy for me. wherever you go, wherever he goes, take care of him. and bring him back home safely to me. it’s all i ask of you to do. if you fail we will turn that four months into a year or two. sabes que todavía estás conectado a tierra, ¿verdad?”

miles laughed as he playfully rolled his eyes, “yes ma, i know.”

“in spanish. don’t think i forgot about that B.” “sí mami, lo sé.”

she stared at him with proud eyes, but just as he was about to leave, hs dad came back. “miles, ahem. this young lady says she’s here to see you.”

he guestured towards you, who was standing in the crowd awkwardly. you weren’t that big of a fan of big gatherings, but at least the food was good. hispanic food always tasted good when cooked right.

you gave miles a small wave as he came down and his parents followed. he looked excited to see you. “hey! what’re you doing here?”

“oh! ganke told me about your father’s promotion. i just wanted to stop by and say ‘hello’.”

rio butted in on the small conversation you and miles were having, distruping him from looking into your eyes. he liked doing that. “oh, you’re one of ganke’s friends?”

“well, more or less, ms. morales.”

she looked at you with an impressed face then eyed her husband who also had the same face. miles stood beside you and smiled awkwardly but deep down he was screaming inside.

even if not calling them by legal name was the bare minimum when meeting someone’s parents. “well, when were you gonna introduce us to her? you didn’t mention her earlier!” jeff crossed his arms. “have you enjoyed your time here so far?”

“well-” “oh, i liked the food. thank you, mr. morales. i’m not keen of public places.”

miles once overheard his mom say something along the lines of being respectful to one’s guardians makes them more attractive, and it’s how she found her now husband. like mom like son, huh?

you all taked some more, engaging in the questions that his parents asked you. he tried to block out the really embarassing ones. people were starting to depart and that also means you had to go. but miles wanted to spend more time with you.

“wait, uh- we can catch up in my room before you leave. just- wait for me down there.”

as you left, miles let out a sigh of relief. well, that relief would soon be over once his parents started talking again. “well! i think i like her more than gwanda actually.”

“daad!” “oh please, te vi tratando de poner tu mano contra la de ella, no te hagas el tonto, miles. “moom!”

well, they were right. he did fall for you harder than he did gwen. was that just second nature or? cause he felt something deep down when you showed proper respect to his parents. touching his face, he could feel it was pretty warm. he didn’t feel this way around gwen.

after the night was over, he felt content with his day. he got to see his two favorite people, technically at once. one went well and one went… somewhat well.

that night, he sat in his bed listening to his playlist and found himself starting a new sketchbook since he had filled his other one. now, that one had started with a drawing of gwen. but this one, it started with you.

˚ʚ I THINK i’m fallin’ in love-

“this time i think it’s for real.”

©hiimayee

#miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles g morales #across the spiderverse #miles morales blurbs #earth 1610 miles morales #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #earth 1610 #miles morales 1610 #1610 miles x reader #miles 1610 #gwen stacy #rio morales #jeff morales

346 notes · View notes

gumnut-logic · 3 months

Text

Reassurance

Had a crappy day, have no brain, so wrote soppy goop.

Many thanks to @onereyofstarlight for reading through said soppy goop. I may have to offer her a long term dental plan for her sacrifice.

I hope you don't drown in the goop.

-o-o-o-

He startled awake with a gasp.

Oh, god. Oh, god, no.

The nightmare drifted away leaving terror in its wake.

Please, god, no.

Virgil rolled over and untangled himself from the bed covers. The clock on his nightstand cheerfully claimed it was 4am.

He had only slept an hour.

Oh, hell.

He pushed his protesting body to sit up on the side of the bed, his bare feet catching in the carpet. His head fell into his hands as phantom images from his brain bounced back and forth and sweat dripped down his spine.

They were all okay.

It was just a stupid dream.

They weren’t…

He shoved off the bed and stumbled into his bathroom, hitting the light and almost blinding himself. Cold water on his face brought back reality.

His family was safe in bed.

Not dead.

Not dying.

Not screaming his name.

He groaned, closed his eyes and ran wet fingers through his hair.

Goddamnit.

He shoved a towel into his face and through his hair. Killing the bathroom light, he strode back into his bedroom, letting his eyes adjust enough to find an old t-shirt and shove it on. He pushed open the door to his rooms and stepped out into the silent hallway.

The transparent roof let in the waning moon and starlight just enough to see and Virgil made his way quietly down the hall to Alan’s bedroom.

He’d done this so many times before. Snuck into bedrooms to check on family simply because he needed a little reassurance that they were still there, still safe. To abate the terror that gnawed on his mind.

Alan was there. His littlest brother was curled up on his rug on the floor, soft breaths teasing the fibre strands in front of his face.

Virgil couldn’t see much.

But he could see enough.

He approached cautiously, not wanting to disturb and crouched down beside the kid genius with a big heart.

Allie’s face was slack in sleep, a mere shaping of shadows in the pale light from the hallway. The bandaid on his head wasn’t an injury, just a scratched pimple to prove he was still a teenager with teenager problems.

Beyond the rocket and the death-defying feats.

Virgil rested a hand ever so softly on his little brother’s arm and whispered, “Love you, Allie.”

Alan shifted and Virgil lifted his hand away. He pushed himself to his feet, ever so embarrassed should he be caught, and slipped from the room on silent feet.

He closed Alan’s door quietly and leant against the corridor wall.

Was it wrong to need the reassurance? Was he being stupid?

He swallowed, took a couple of steps and stood in front of Gordon’s door.

His military brothers were lighter sleepers and he had to be extra careful.

Gordon was tangled in his bed sheets as usual and Virgil had to fight the urge to untangle him. Messy golden hair lit up in the pale light and Virgil crouched down beside his fish brother, eyes skipping over the scars set in relief by that same light across Gordy’s back.

His brother was breathing, breath drawn in and out with the occasional snore.

Virgil dared not touch Gordon, no matter how much he wanted to. But he did watch him for a moment, etching proof of life into his brain.

“Love you, Gordy.”

Gordon grunted, grabbed a chunk of bed sheet and hugged it to his chest.

Virgil bit his lip and stepped back, slipping out the door.

He let a breath go once the door was closed.

He had to leave the residential rooms to track down his space brother. He had a pact with Eos, bribed with processors so she wouldn’t tell John.

Entering the empty comms room revealed just a hint of the coming day as the faintest of lines on the horizon to the east. Traditionally, his military brothers would be up within the hour, but considering how late they all made it to bed, John had probably cancelled all the alarms and put IR into passive mode.

Virgil couldn’t remember if Scott had given the order. He had been too strung out, too exhausted, too terrified of what almost happened and how lucky he had been.

“Eos, report on John please.”

“Good morning, Virgil.” Her voice was soft, under strict instruction due to mistakes past. “John is currently sleeping quietly. All vitals stable. He drank water before bed and has been undisturbed.”

“Thank you, Eos. Visual, please.”

“Are you sure? John has been teaching me about privacy and-“

“Eos, please. I need this.”

There was silence a moment before the holoprojector lit up, bathing the room, and Virgil, in blue.

John slept curled on his side, hands bunched up under his chin, hair in his eyes.

Virgil smiled despite himself. John had been fighting that cowlick since he was little. During the day he had it under control with all the product deployed, but at night it ruled and John surrendered.

It made him look so young.

And so atypical of his usual neat appearance.

“Love you, Johnny.”

This time he could reach out and run his fingers through photons. It wasn’t enough but it was something.

Staring a moment longer, he reached down and turned the projector off.

Night returned to the room and his eyes dazed with after images.

He took the opportunity and jogged down the stairs to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass, he filled it with tap water and sculled it down.

The cool liquid sucked the heat from his belly.

He left the cup on the sink and made his way up all the stairs and back into the residential hallways. Part of him always wanted to visit his grandmother and Kayo, but there were limits to the breaches in privacy he was willing to commit.

Standing in the hallway outside their doors, he whispered words into the woodwork and left them undisturbed.

At the end of the hallway, lay Scott’s rooms. He knew he was always welcome there. In his big brother’s own words late at night over one too many drinks, desperate to wash away memories that hurt, Scott had said in no uncertain words - anytime, anywhere, always.

Virgil had no doubt it was the same for all his brothers, for all of them. Each of them were there for each other. They were family.

But as Virgil stood outside that door, he was still of two minds. He needed to erase that image from his dream. That last gasp of breath, that terror, and his failure to be what he needed to be.

Because the biggest fear was that one day Virgil wasn’t going to be there for his big brother and that would be it. The end. Scott would be gone and Virgil’s world would crumble.

But at the same time. All this? Was stupid. Why risk Scott’s sleep, something he sorely needed, just because Virgil couldn’t keep it together?

His back fell against the corridor wall, and Virgil let himself slide down until his butt hit the floor.

His head dropped into his hands.

His eyes clenched shut.

And he wished the world away.

-o-o-o-

He didn’t realise the door had opened until a pair of long, pyjama-clad legs folded down beside him and an arm wrapped around his shoulders.

Scott’s other arm drew him in him until his brother’s face was buried in Virgil’s hair.

Virgil groaned. “Sorry.”

Scott’s breath teased his hair. “Dreams?”

“Yeah.”

His brother squeezed just a little tighter. “Same.”

“Damn…”

“Yeah.”

Virgil didn’t ask if his brother was okay, because the answer was obvious. Instead, he rested against Scott drawing in the strength for what he needed to be for his brother.

“Love you, Virg. You know that, don’t you?”

His heart missed a beat. “Yeah.” He swallowed. “Love you, too.”

“Anytime, anywhere, always.” Scott’s hand moved to the back of Virgil’s neck, warm and so there.

Virgil’s eyes closed against the cotton of his big brother’s pyjamas. “Always.”

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #scott tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy #alan tracy #nuttyfic #so much goop

54 notes · View notes

bitchyycapricorn · 11 months

Text

Almost There

Peter Parker x Ghost!Reader

Chapter One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Wordcount: 1.9k

Synopsis: Peter enters his apartment that night expecting to find an empty bed. But instead, he comes face to face with your transparent glowing figure.

Warnings: ANGST!!!, fluff, sexual tension, cheating, mentions of death and dead bodies, mention of stab wounds, blood, mentions of nearly dying

AN: sorry this took so long to get out! I promise more coming soon! Not edited.

“What did he do to you?”

The words fall from his mouth and a dead silence settles in the room. It takes a minute for your body to start moving towards his. He’s still looking down at the picture when you stop behind him, placing your hand on his shoulder as you look at it too. It’s been eight years since you saw the picture, you couldn’t remember what the image contained, not until now. Your eyes skim over the face of the man in the photo, he was older, probably early fifties if you had to guess. He was a stark contrast to the children behind him, thrown in a corner with their arms and legs tied. They were blindfolded and gagged, the sight makes your stomach drop. All the memories suddenly come flooding back to you at once.

You let out a stifled cry as your hand slaps over your mouth. “It fell out of his pocket in the elevator. He-he stepped off before me and so I grabbed the picture. It scared me so much I hid it in my secret hiding place…” you began to choke on your words, tears streaming down your face. “I saw him again, in the elevator the next day. He asked me where the picture was, I lied and said I didn’t know. I was young and couldn’t lie, so he took me. Took me all the way down…”

Peter looks up at you, his eyebrows furrowing. Standing up slowly, picture still in hand he slowly replies “you mean, the basement of the apartments?”

You nod as your eyes well up with more tears. “Yes, the basement. It was cold and damp down there, he-he,” you let out another strangled cry before continuing, “he did horrible things to us.” Your body begins to shake as you sob in Peters arms. His arms tighten around you, holding your shaking figure as you cry into his chest.

“I’ve got you now, you’re safe I promise. He isn’t going to hurt you ever again.” He soothes into your ear. He slowly runs his hand up and down your upper back, giving the top of your head an occasional kiss as he continues to whisper sweet things into your hair.

“My body is still down there Peter,” you whisper, another sob racking through your body. “We’re all down there.”

He nods, letting out a shaky breath. “We can go get you,” he says slowly pulling away from your body. “Do you want me to find you?”

Your eyes well up with a fresh set of tears as you nod, “I can be buried, and maybe then I can rest.”

Peter nods, giving you a warm smile. He wants to be happy for you, he wants you to finally be at peace. Yet, the thought of you no longer being around causes his heart to twist and ache. He doesn’t want to let you go, he wants you to stay here with him, he wants you to be his. “Let’s get dressed then.” His mind shoots back to MJ, how he was about to sleep with you despite being with her. “Oh, and I’m really sorry about this it was a heat of the moment thing and, you know I like MJ and all.” He says, grabbing his shirt and pants off the floor.

“Oh yeah, of course,” you say, giving him a sad smile. “MJ, I uh, would hate to ruin that. Which um reminds me, the kiss it didn’t mean anything either. Was just curious, that’s all.” You lie.

Peter can feel his heart shatter, of course the kiss didn’t mean anything. “Right, of course.” He finishes getting dressed, looking over at you, who’s now dressed as well.

“The new elevator doesn’t go down to the basement, we have to take the old one.”

+++

Peter scan the boarded up elevator, you stand next to him in your human form. “We have to take the boards off, then I can swing us down.”

You look over to Peter in his Spider-Man costume, he said it made him feel better to be suited up in case anything went wrong. Rather than helping him break off the boards, you watch as his muscles flex under the fabric, taking in every inch of him. Reminding you of the first night you met, and how you so desperately wished things would go back to the way they were.

“Ready?” His voice broke you from your thoughts.

You nod, allowing his arms to wrap around you. “I’ve been ready for the last eight years,” you whisper, watching as he shoots his web to the top of the elevator before you both start to descend downwards.

It was extremely dark on the way down and the air was damp and cold. Memories began to flood your mind, thoughts of everything that happened to you all those years ago. You cuddle closer to Peter, keeping your eyes trained on the wreckage of the elevator below you. Peter’s feet hit the top of the elevator and he helped to lower you down as well. “If anything goes wrong you turn straight back into a ghost do you understand?”

“What about you? What will you do?” You ask, watching as he pulls up the hatch on the top of the elevator.

“Don’t worry about me okay? Just, just focus on saving yourself if anything goes wrong.” He repeats, easing himself down into the remains of the elevator. “Come on, I can see the entrance to the hall.” He holds his arms open for you to jump into them. You nod, jumping down into his embrace. He catches you easily before setting you down and leading you both into the dark hallway.

“I’m surprised the lights still work.” You say furrowing your eyebrows. “They have to be on their last life.”

Peter nods, gripping your hand tightly. “I’m hoping they’re old lights. Otherwise someone’s been down here recently.” He whispers back, sliding off his mask.

Your eyes scan the hallways, looking for anything you might recognize. “That door, to the right.” You whisper, a sudden chill running down your back. “I’m…I’m behind that door. I can feel it.”

“Y/N,” Peter says stopping you both, “I need to make sure you really want to do this. I-I,”

“Peter, are you scared too?” You cut in.

He looks down at you with sad eyes before nodding. “I don’t know what’s back there for sure. I just know that you’ll be back there, and even though I know you’re dead you don’t seem dead. I-I’m scared to see you hurt. I’m scared to loose you…”

You turn to face Peter, raising your hand to gently touch his face. “I’ll be right here Peter, I promise I won’t go anywhere if you don’t want me to.

He shakes his head, leaning into your touch. “I can’t ask you to do that. I can’t let you stay for me, no matter what my feelings are for you.”

You furrow your brows, stepping closer to him as you keep your hand firmly pressed to his cheek. “What do you feel for me Peter?” You whisper.

His gaze meets your soft one, a feeling of emotions slowly begins to bubble up inside him. “I wish she was you.” He confesses, his eyes scanning your face for any emotion. “I want you,” he continues, “I want you all to myself forever. I never want to let you go. If I had any say in your fate you would leave here with me. I’d take you back to my room and you’d be mine. No more staying at Ned’s, no, you’d be mine.”

A smile spreads across your lips as your hand slowly moves behind his head, your fingers tangling in his curls. You pull him towards you, your lips pressing against his feverishly. For a moment everything stands still. The world around you seems to disappear as you press yourself into Peter’s lips, sucking in every second that his lips are pressed against yours. You lean back slowly, a string of saliva connecting your lips. “I want you Peter. I want you to get rid of her, I want you to pick me instead Peter.” You whisper, leaning into his lips again.

He kisses you roughly, his hands gripping the dip between your waist and hips. He pulls you even closer to him, allowing you both to savor the moment before he’s forced to pull away from you this time. “I want that more than anything, you know I do.” He hesitates before he speaks again, “But I can’t do that to you, you have to move on.”

Silence settles around you both in the dimly lit hallway, the only sound coming from the buz in the lights. “I’ll stay for you,” you say after a moment, “I really will.”

Peter shakes his head, grabbing your hand from behind his head and pressing it to his lips. “Y/N, I can’t make you truly happy. You have to try and move on. I know I said I was scared before and I still am, but I have to let you go. You have to let go.”

Your whole body felt weak under his gaze and in his arms, a feeling of dread settling in your chest. You knew he was right, but that didn’t stop the tears from slowly flowing down your cheeks. “Okay,” you whisper as your gaze shifts over to the door. “I’ll move on.”

You and Peter pull away from one another, facing the door once again. You step in front of him, deciding to lead the way. You hesitantly walk towards the large white metal door, your hand reaching out for the handle. Turning the nob, you let the door swing open. You’re met with a sight that nothing could’ve prepared you for.

The sight of five small skeletons laid in the corner of the room, while the smell of previously rotting corpses still lingered in the air. You let you a gag as your eyes focused on the figure in the middle of the room. The walls felt like they were closing in as you stared at her. Her hair, her skin, her features, they hadn’t changed a single bit in eight years.

“Holy shit,” Peter gasps from behind you. His eyes focusing on a much younger version of you.

“How is this even possible?” You mutter, slowly approaching your frozen body.

Peter followed behind you, his eyes taking in the sight of your pervious form. “The cuts,” he mumbles, “they’re just like yours.”

You nod, hesitating to get any closer. “I didn’t think…”

“I didn’t either,” Peter says as he slowly brushes the arm of your dead body. “You’re so cold,” he mumbles.

“I just don’t understand…” you reach forward, allowing your fingers to connect with your body as well. You feel a tingle in your finger tips, taking a step closer you can feel yourself turning back into a ghost. The closer you step the more sucked into your old body you get. A frown settles onto your lips, you step once more before everything goes black.

You jut forward with a gasp, a sharp pain spreads all across your abdomen. The feeling of hot liquid gushing from your stomach suddenly becomes obvious to your senses which are going haywire.

“Y/N, oh my god Y/N say something.” Peter pleads, trying to find something to stop the bleeding.

“Peter help,” you gasp, as your hands struggle against the ropes binding them to the chairs. “I can’t move, I can’t,” you let out another gasp, your vision was slowly going dark. You could feel as Peter tugged off the ropes, allowing for your hands to go limp at your side.

“Hang on, I’m going to get you out of here.” Peter grunts, picking up your limp body. “Just stay with me, please.”

+++

TAGLIST @nataliewalker93 @sarapaprikas-blog @justkeepitblanc@sickomodesmell @etaerealboy @purplerose291 @witheringawayagain @arij3lly @dandelionqueen @brightlilith @laurens2002 @siriusly1 @shugrcrush @hazzarules @cl0v3r-s0up @jibiwoni @maria-pqrker

292 notes · View notes

anothercrisis · 1 year

Text

Something I’ve been thinking about for a long time:

The pause between “I won’t watch them” and “More than once, anyway”.

Soap is running around Las Almas, a city under attack and crawling with enemies out for blood, and he has nothing with him but his wits and his lieutenant’s voice. He’s too far away from Ghost for Ghost’s liking, but there isn’t anything he can do but guide him and trust that his sergeant can make it back to him alive. From there, he would handle it—he’d take care of them. Johnny just had to make it to him.

The fear and worry sitting heavily in Ghost’s throat is foreign, especially because it’s stress for a person’s wellbeing that goes beyond tactical necessity, which isn’t something he’s allowed himself to feel in a long time.

But he doesn’t think about it—doesn’t look at it too closely.

Ghost keeps Johnny talking so he can be reassured of his status and doesn’t think about why the thought of Johnny falling silent scares the absolute shit out of him. If Johnny were in a better state, he would probably be able to pick up on the underlying nerves Ghost was feeling, the way Ghost had accidentally dropped a wall in his desperation.

The longer Johnny is away from him, slinking his way across the bloody city streets that separate them, the looser Ghost’s lips seem to become.

The jokes are the easiest to allow, to brush off. They’re exchanged to keep Johnny sane, to keep him from tumbling into an anxiety attack that would certainly doom him. They’re grounding him, giving him the incentive of teasing Ghost about his shitty dad jokes relentlessly if he makes it out alive.

Ghost doesn’t know why he says it. If he says it to remind Johnny about the stakes, which he’s certain he doesn’t need to do, or if it’s some sick reminder to himself.

“You get caught out there, they’ll kill you slow.”

Something in Ghost’s brain goes scarily silent at the image of his Johnny being tortured to death.

“Mercs or the Narcos?”

“Narcos. They’ll take videos.”

Ghost isn’t sure what he’s saying anymore. His mouth is moving, speaking, but his mind is somewhere outside of his body.

“I won’t watch them…”

I couldn’t watch them. I wouldn’t be able to survive it. I’ve been dead for a long time, but if something like that happened to you, I’d be buried all over again. There simply isn’t a way to continue living without you, now that I know what it’s like.

I couldn’t watch them. I wouldn’t be able to survive it. I know the kind of horror I would become if you were taken from me that violently—know the sins I would commit thoughtlessly. What would come after losing you wouldn’t be call life.

“More than once, anyway.”

Don’t look too closely. The addendum is transparent and if you look too closely you’ll see how far gone I am. You could destroy me so completely, Johnny, so easily, and I’d be utterly helpless to stop you. How did you find a way in?

“Sick bastard,” Johnny says, oblivious to Ghost’s turmoil.

#the things I hoard in my drafts #are we out here living on crumbs? maybe #call of duty #modern warfare ii 2022 #cod mwii #alone mission #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #it’s the crisis talking

183 notes · View notes

rosesrflo · 2 years

Note

Hello ! It's me again ! How are you ? I hope you are well and have a good day !

Last post was awesome though it broke some fragments of my soul 💀💀💀

I've been thinking about this for a while now but could write HC about William , Sherlock, Bonde with a s/o who's insecure about their petite/small body ?

Sincerely one of your fans ❤️❤️

Feat; Sherlock, William, Bonde (MTP). Genre; fluff, comfort

Prompt; ❛❛In my eyes, you’re an angel.❞ Warnings; body image, GN!reader, skin pinching/pulling

Desc; IN WHICH your closest ones notice the lack of appreciation you have for yourself and decide that enough is enough.

SHERLOCK;

Let’s get one thing in order, he’s absolutely head over heels for you, probably thinks you’re adorable.

Doesn’t note down what you look like, he’s more focused on the little things, such as your personality, actions, habits.

When Sherly finds out about your insecurities, be prepared for a world of appreciation, this man’s on the case!

He loves you so much, thinks you’re gorgeous in every way possible; is not afraid to tell you.

To him, your body is a blessing, Sherlock could list over a million reasons why.

The way you get on your tip toes to press small kisses on his face whilst complaining about his height, or maybe it’s the way your waist fits so delicately into his hands - either way, he’s gonna be all over you.

“Because I’m just not good looking, Sherly! I don’t have curves or figure, and i’m-“

Said detective narrowed his eyes with furrowed eyebrows at your small rant, he stepped forwards to pull you into his arms, ultimately cutting your speech off - good, Sherlock didn’t want to hear your self deprecating words, he loves you too much to know that this was what you thought of yourself.

Your breathing steadied slightly as silence embraced the two of you, his hands gently pressed your head near his collarbone, “You’re gorgeous, you know?” He broke the tranquility to compliment you.

“No, I don’t…I don’t think i am.” Your hands grasped at his blazer in an act of defiance, Sherlock continued to analyse you.

He fauxely hummed, “Well you are, you don’t have bad qualities, you make amazing pancakes and you fit perfectly in my arms, therefore you must be; after all, once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, must-“

You shook your head in amusement, “Must be the truth.”

WILLIAM;

You’re his favourite form of loving.

No matter what body shape you have, height or looks, you’re always loved to the best of his abilities.

Liam fell for you, every part of you, looks and all.

Treats you like porcelain, not because he doubts you but because he’s scared of losing you, you’re dear to him and a cherished part of the organization.

William absolutely despises your pesky insecurities, even more so your habit of taking it out on yourself.

The first time he found you murmuring self deprecating insults to yourself was terrifying, parts of your skin were painted bright red from self abuse, he wished he knew before all of this started.

Smartass uses all the things he loves about you to his advantage, that’s a lot of points he has, loves you to the moon and back.

Will is scared of seeing you in that state again, whenever you ‘jokingly’ speak down to yourself, he shuts it down pretty quickly.

Definitely holds you a little tighter at night.

William rubbed soothing circles onto your back, he frowned. From what he was seeing, this wasn’t the best you’d ever been, you were shaking like a leaf with transparent tear streaks marking your cheeks.

Even in this state, he couldn’t help but think about how..breathtaking you looked. An inaudible murmur slipped past your quivering lips, Will snapped out of thought, “Hm?”

You clenched your eyes shut, head limply falling against his shoulder; guilt was written all over you face as you mentally scolded yourself for thinking and saying something so absurd, of course Liam loves you.

But what if he doesn’t? What if you were so repulsing that-that he couldn’t?

“You could never repulse me.” It didn’t occur to you that you were speaking aloud, no hint of betrayal or disgust was evident on his face, William held you closer to him, careful not to aggravate your self inflicted bruises.

“Because I love you so much more than I should.”

BONDE;

Every day of your life will 100% be filled with praises, compliments and soft touches from him.

James is convinced that you have bewitched him because he’s literally enchanted by you.

He’s convinced you’re the one, you’re the moon to his sun, the light to his dark, the yin to his yang, the partner in his crime - you get the gist.

You bet that the moment he uncovers the truth, you’re in for the most chaotically, sweet scolding from your lover.

He won’t stop at it until he’s sure that he’s chased all your insecurities away, even then, James will keep a sharp eye on you.

Something about your petite height/shape makes him want to hug you tight.

All I have to say is that you are one lucky mf to have captured the heart of James Bonde.

James slowly lifted your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “I love-“ his eyes met yours, he proceeded to cup the apples of your cheeks and caress the blush dusting them before planting random pecks across your face. “-you.”

Lifting your hands to shield yourself from the onslaught of affection, laughter sounded at his loving antics, “James-I-“

He simply hummed in response, cutting you off by catching your hands and lining kisses on the palms, all while maintaining playful eye contact. Did you always sound so angelic?

“I love the rest of you as well.”

You were at loss of words and utterly speechless, James’ tone of voice transitioned to one of more softness, you shakily reached up to cup his face like he had done moments before.

His words felt unreal, “Love yourself too, please.”

You had never felt more loved than with him.

thank you sm!! I’m sorry this took a bit longer + it’s kinda short, I’ve just had a lot of work to do and stuff but I’m glad that you enjoy my writing<33 Have a good day/night

#fanfic #mtp x reader #yuukuko no moriarty #moriarty the patriot #moriarty x reader #mtp william #william james moriarty #william moriarty #ynm x reader #yuukuko no moriarty x reader #mtp sherlock #yuumori x reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes #james bond

189 notes · View notes

iggydabirdkid · 11 months

Photo

Almost done! This is my 5th drawing for Pride Month!

When The Passenger was still just the demo version I must have played it 100 times over. I just love the whole concept of the game, and anything with Eldritch Horror like themes is just my sort of thing.

So here’s a little something I did for my MC Amara Newman and her love Fiama Brandle.

+++++

I think I could do this forever

You wake up first of course. You always do. You don’t need much sleep, at least that’s what you tell yourself even when you constantly yawn halfway through the day. You open your eyes to the pale ceiling above you only visible thanks to the moonlight coming in through the window opposite the bed. Still dark. Too early. You let out a sigh and slowly sit up, being careful not to wake the sleeping form to your right. She’s facing you and you smile as you look upon her face, so serene when she’s asleep and you quickly slip out without disturbing her. Bare feet hit cold ground and you shiver as you look around for your pair of slippers, finding them finally half-hidden under the bed. You stretch, yawn, and tie your hair half up before you pad from the room.

Your stomach growls at you and so you head into the kitchen to grab something to eat and you spy the clock along the way. Ah. Not too early then. Just up before the sun, which, is not uncommon. If you were at your mom’s you’d probably have gone back to sleep to save yourself from the potential outcome of being asked question you couldn’t, and didn’t want to answer. But here? At Fiama’s? You don’t have to hide anything from her or Bruno. Not anymore. You allow yourself a smile as you open the door to the fridge and bend over to take a gander at its contents. You know for certain that there’s some leftover spaghetti in here, and you’re sure Fiama won’t mind if some of it goes missing…

“Amara?”

The flash of the kitchen light turning on and the tiny voice behind you takes you by surprise and you jump, smacking your head on the fridge and hissing out a quiet curse before pulling back and turning around.

“Kiddo!” you laugh as you rub the back of your head, “Did I wake you?” You ask to which he shakes his head.

“I was already awake. What are you doing?” he asks.

“Getting some food,” you turn back around, grab the bowl of spaghetti, and shut the fridge, “Want some?” you grin as you shake the bowl. You see his eyes light up and you chuckle, “Alright, go sit down and I’ll make you a plate. But be quiet!” you tell him as he scampers off, “We don’t want to wake your mom!”

-----

You sit at the table with only the light from the kitchen to illuminate your night time feast. You watch Bruno stuff his face as you readily enjoy your own meal and the only reason you aren’t actively shoveling it into your mouth as fast as you can was that you promised Fiama you’d try to teach Bruno some manners. Be a respectable role model. Well, as much as you can be anyways. And as you watch Bruno enjoying his meal you think you could just about do this forever, be a part of something like this. It wasn’t something you ever thought you would want but emotions can be fickle (as you have come to find out), and now you can’t see yourself continuing this life any other way.

Bruno must be able to sense you staring because he looks up at you and you wonder if he would be happy with you around for him as he grows. The answer comes to you as transparent visages split left and right of him and as his mouth stretches into a wide, food-filled grin, those to the left of him grin at you also. You shake your head, the images fading and you chuckle.

“Nobody likes see-food,” you tell him and he frowns.

“Sea food?” he questions. You grin and spoon some spaghetti into your mouth before opening and sticking your tongue out.

“See? Food!” He laughs at that, food spraying from his mouth and you have to lean to the side to avoid getting any on yourself. You watch as he claps his hands over his mouth and looks up at you. You swallow your food and snort a laugh but then you realize he’s not looking at you, but past you. You freeze and tense up, your shoulders bunching up to your ears as you slowly turn in your seat to see Fiama standing in the doorway.

“You two enjoying yourselves?” she crosses her arms over her chest and quirks an eyebrow as she looks at Bruno before finally settling her eyes on you.

“We were hungry?” you shrug and give a sheepish smile and she shakes her head as she laughs softly and walks to Bruno’s side.

“C’mon kid, lets get you back to bed. And you,” she turns her head to look at you as Bruno hops down from his seat, “Make sure you get all the spaghetti from the table okay?”

“Yes Ma’am,” you grin as you push your chair back and get to your feet. You lean in to give her a quick kiss on the cheek and then you head back into the kitchen to grab a cloth.

+++++

“Sorry about eating all the spaghetti.” You murmur into Fiama’s hair as you lay together in bed a while later. The sun is up now, its light bathing the room in a soft golden glow. She laughs and snuggles up closer to you. You half sit up to wrap your arms around her and pull her close into your chest.

“That just means you’ll have to help me make more,” she replies and you smile as you lean back and look out the window.

“I’ll be happy to.” You give her a brief squeeze and feel her grab one of your wrists and gently wrap her fingers around your skin.

“I know you would baby.”

You both lapse in a comfortable silence and the warmth of the encroaching day threatens to lull you back to sleep. But a thought is stuck in your head, one that’s been there for a while but stirred more into awareness since you woke up this morning.

“Fiama?” You’re uncharacteristically hesitant and you know she hears it as she tilts her head to look up at you with a slight crease in her brow.

“Amara?”

“I was thinking…” You trail off a little, unsure of how exactly to word what you’re thinking, “I feel like I could do this forever. Being here with you and Bruno, being a part of this small family and I… I want to make it more official. As much as we can do and I know I’m not great with words or feelings but this here? Here and now? It feels good. It feels safe.”

You see her eyes water and for a moment your stomach drops and you think you’ve said something wrong before her mouth splits into a grin and her grip on your arms tightens.

“Amara Newman,” you hear the waver in her voice as she wipes the tears from her eyes, “I would love nothing more.”

“Good.”

You’re smiling now as well as you bend slightly to kiss her on the forehead before you wrap your arms tighter around her and lean back against the headboard.

“Good.”

#i just love this game so much #just an eldritch being #being soft #Amara Newman #Fiama Brandle #tp fiama #The Passenger #the passenger game

31 notes · View notes

db-gochifan · 1 year

Text

Dragon Ball Ships Week 2023 - Day 3: Passion

Title: Desire Characters: Bulma Briefs and Vegeta Pairing: Bulma/Vegeta and mentions of Bulma/Yamcha Summary: Bulma has had enough of Yamcha's fan club. Warning: Possible NSFW content.

Cross-posted on AO3 and FFN

Bulma walked past the gravity chamber for Kami knows which time. Every time she glanced at it, hoping that everything was okay with Vegeta inside it. She hasn’t seen him in days and was beginning to worry about him. She took a couple of steps towards the door, but decided against it. With a light shake of her head, she turned around and left. If she didn’t know it any better, the last thing he wanted was to be disturbed during his intense training to become a Super Saiyan. She didn’t have any reason to check on him, he was nothing but a guest in her house because he didn’t have a place to stay. She had no interest in him whatsoever; he was rude and mean to everyone. Besides, she was happy with Yamcha. Still, she couldn’t stop thinking about the Saiyan. Vegeta came out of the gravity chamber after several hours, with a white towel wrapped around his neck and shirtless. There was a bottle of water in his left hand, which he squeezed with anger for failing another attempt to become a Super Saiyan. He stretched his neck and walked out of the room, heading to his bedroom. He was in desperate need of a shower. On his way there, he had to walk past Bulma’s bedroom. Much to his surprise, he found himself slowing down and peeking inside it to see if she was there. Not that it mattered to him, he couldn’t care less about her. But he had to admit she and her family were nice enough to let him stay over. And he didn’t think Capsule Corp was that bad either. It was big enough to go unnoticed by everyone for a whole day and that was just what he needed. And training, of course. **** The following weeks were pretty much the same, but Vegeta noticed a few different things. First he came across the table full of food when he walked into the kitchen to have his post-training meal. And that night he noticed there were two trays placed by the door of the chamber when he walked out of it. He had to admit Earthlings could be good people, even when he didn’t exactly treat them right. Having grown up the way he did, he learned to mistrust everyone. But maybe it didn’t have to be like this anymore. Vegeta sat down and leaned against the wall of the chamber before eating the food that was taken to him. He was taking the empty trays to the kitchen and, to his surprise, he spotted Bulma walking in his direction, probably going to her bedroom. The Saiyan prince couldn’t help but notice she was wearing a slightly transparent gown and tried his best not to look below her face. She, on the other hand, felt her cheeks burning red with his bare upper body all sweaty from training. “Oh good, you ate.” She said cheerfully when she took notice of the empty trays. “I hope it wasn’t cold.” “It was good. Did you make it yourself?” “Yes and no. Some of it was already prepared, I just had to heat them.” “T-Thank you.” “What?” Bulma blinked with surprise. “I said thank you! Are you deaf?” “Why do you always have to be like this? Geez! No wonder why he can’t find a girlfriend or wife.” She snapped furiously and then resumed her path to her bedroom. “Have a good night, Vegeta.” He frowned after hearing her statement and mumbled all the way to the kitchen. Bulma leaned against the door after she closed it. She took a deep breath and shut her eyes, but the image of Vegetate being shirtless still lingered in her mind. A few weeks ago, she didn’t allow herself to think about him in a fond way because she was Yamcha’s girlfriend, but all this time they have been living under the same roof made her realize maybe he wasn’t all that bad. Then, in an impulsive moment and blinded by desire, she left the door slightly open and slid the sleeves of her night gown off her shoulders. All that was left to do was wait for him. The Prince of the Saiyans was returning to his bedroom when he noticed the door from Bulma’s room slightly open. He frowned and mumbled angrily when his heart started beating fast in his chest. He knew he shouldn’t walk into her bedroom without her permission, but, for the first time in his life, his body didn’t obey him. Plus, he could see a small glimpse of her from the hall and his urge to go inside only grew stronger. And before he knew it, he slowly pushed the door open. Bulma stood up from her bed and stood across him; a few feet separating them. There was a small smile on her face when she moved a lock of her hair away from her face. “So you wanted to check on me.” She gave a couple of steps towards him and could feel the tension increasing in him. “I didn’t want to check on you, woman. You have your boyfriend for that.” “Not that it’s any of your business, but Yamcha and I aren’t together anymore.” “You’re right, it’s not any of my business.” He turned around to leave. “I’m going to my room.” “Wait a moment.” Bulma couldn’t believe what was happening. For a moment it seemed like he was… In an impulse, she grabbed his forearm and he looked over his shoulder. “What? You thought I was gonna fall for this?” She let go of his arm and folded hers in front of her chest, frowning. “Fine, if you want to go, then go. I don’t know why I even thought there was something going on between us.” “There’s nothing going on between us.” Vegeta walked out and heard the door slam behind him with a loud thud. Vegeta was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Bulma had just told him. She had touched a sensitive spot, one he refused to accept. He couldn’t help but feel like Goku had beaten him up once again and gotten married and became a father before him. That mere thought made him angry. He had to find a way to revert that situation. **** Driven by extreme rage, Vegeta was finally able to turn into Super Saiyan for the first time a couple of days later. His motivation was renewed and he was fully satisfied with his training for the first time since Capsule Corp. became his home. He left the gravity chamber with a large smile on his face, feeling confident he would finally be able to defeat Goku. Then something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Bulma was sitting outside the chamber, with her back leaned against it. Her legs were fully stretched and her eyes were closed. She had fallen asleep while waiting for him to get out of it. She slowly opened her eyes when she faintly heard Vegeta talking to her. “Huh?” “What are you doing here? I already said I don’t like being disturbed when I’m training.” “I didn’t come here for you.” She said with fury as she stood up. “I need to make some adjustments to the chamber and I was waiting for you to leave to do it. Not everything revolves around you, you know?” “Whatever. What kind of adjustments?” “It’s not your business.” Bulma snapped. “You’ll find out next time you use it.” “You’re such an annoying woman. But it doesn’t matter, I’m so proud of myself today nothing will ruin it.” “May I ask you why you’re happy?” “Not that I should tell you anything, but I was finally able to turn into a Super Saiyan. I can defeat Kakarott once and for all.” “That nonsense talk again?” Bulma shouted angrily. “Is that all you Saiyans think about?” “You’re not one of us, so you wouldn’t understand.” “Thank Kami for that. I’ve seen how Goku acts sometimes when it comes to fighting and it’s annoying.” “Kakarott doesn’t know a thing about it. He’s a low-class warrior.” “Right, right.” She rolled her eyes and grabbed his forearm in an impulse when he began to walk away. Feeling his strong muscles in her grasp made her blush a little and wonder how bigger they got when he was in Super Saiyan form. “What do you want now?” But Bulma barely seemed to register what he had asked. It was like she was hypnotized by him. She looked up and saw he was staring right at her with his usual angry expression, but she could see there was something else behind it. Hardly aware of her movements, she lifted her arm and touched his cheek. In a normal situation, Vegeta would have immediately either grabbed the person’s wrist before the touch or pushed the hand away as soon as it rested on his cheek. But for some reason he couldn’t do that to Bulma. He felt like he was paralyzed, though he could fully move around. But he didn’t want to. And then a thought flashed in his mind for a brief second, but he would never admit that out loud. He was enjoying it. Much to her surprise, he was the one who closed the distance between them and kissed her. Bulma wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned even more towards him, shoving her tongue into his mouth. He didn’t pull back at it, but his unexpected reaction made her do it for a couple of seconds. She threw herself into it again and a soft moan escaped her lips when she felt his arms tighten around her body. Being so caught up in the moment, she slid her hand down his back and under his shorts. Vegeta quickly pushed her away and frowned. “What were you doing?” “I’m sorry, I thought it was okay. Yamcha didn’t mind it when I did the same to him.” “Don’t compare me to such a weak fighter.” “Yamcha isn’t weak. He’s pretty strong for an Earthling.” “Whatever. Don’t do that again.” “Okay, I got it! I’m sorry!” “Don’t yell either. What a noisy and annoying woman!” “Excuse me?! You didn’t seem to think so when your tongue was tangled up with mine.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turned around and left her alone. “Ugh, stupid Saiyans.” She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. Vegeta stopped in the middle of the dark hall, only a few feet away from Bulma’s bedroom. He couldn’t stop thinking about their kiss that happened earlier. He had never experienced such a thing before, and had mixed feelings about it. He also thought about Goku already having a son and he didn’t. His hands closed into fists. He was the Prince of the Saiyans, he should have his own offspring. He looked over his shoulder towards the door. She was his best shot at that; in fact, she was his only shot at that. Overwhelmed by that feeling, he spun around and walked back to her room. “What are you doing here?” Bulma asked surprised when he burst into her bedroom again. “Didn’t you make it clear you had no interest in me whatsoever? Did you have to come back and disrespect me again?” “Hear me out, woman.” He sat on her bed, which caught her even more by surprise. “This will happen only tonight.” “Alright. You don’t want to risk falling in love with me.” “That’s not it!” “You just said that… nevermind.” “So how does this work?” “You’ve never been with a woman before?” “That doesn’t matter!” Vegeta blushed heavily. “Let’s just get it over with.” “Okay.” She crawled towards him and kissed him briefly, quickly lying down on her king-sized bed and bringing him along. **** When Bulma opened her eyes the next morning, she looked around and noticed Vegeta was already gone. She knew it would happen, but deep down she couldn’t help but feel disappointed for wanting him to still be there, with his arms wrapped around her body. And maybe having a morning round before they went on with their days. With a long sigh, she wrapped herself up in a sheet and stood up, staring at the view outside from her glass door. She found out from her father that Vegeta was already in the gravity chamber for another intensive training day, by the time she walked into the lab. Countless times she caught herself glancing towards it, in hopes he’d come out and check on her, and had to shake her head to turn her focus to what was really important. Thinking about how fast her life turned around made her dizzy. The same Saiyan that left Goku seriously injured and scared the hell out of her was now living in her house. It was a risky situation at that time, but she just couldn’t leave him on his own. She couldn’t help but smile and wondered when she actually started having feelings for him. When Vegeta walked out of the gravity chamber at the end of the day, he was in his Saiyan form and wearing his usual training outfit. He took a look around and realized the whole lab was empty and there was no tray by the door waiting for him either. For a brief second, he wondered if something had happened to Bulma, but quickly pushed that thought out of his mind. He still wanted to have no attachment to her. After having dinner, he made his way back to his room and found himself stopping in front of Bulma’s door and glancing at it. He couldn’t help but wonder if she was inside. As his true nature returned, he frowned and rolled his eyes before resuming his way to his bedroom. Little did he know what was going to happen next. Bulma was walking down the hall in the opposite direction, coming from where his bedroom was, and they met halfway. She felt momentarily panicky, but quickly her attention moved to his well-toned torso, completely hypnotized by it. “I hope you didn’t enter my room.” “I… I…” She shook her head and frowned, finally understanding what he had said. “I wasn’t coming from your damn room, you don’t have to worry about that.” “Good.” “Like there’s anything special or valuable there.” “What do you know about value anyway?” He said in a superior way and folded his arms over his chest. “How dare you talk to me like this? Especially in my own house!” Bulma shouted. “Get a fucking clue! You’re living here for free and as a guest. Be grateful for the opportunity you were given!” “Ugh, get out of my fucking way, woman!” He tried to get past her, but she held his arm. Before he could even snap at her, he felt her lips on him and suddenly his body started not obeying him anymore. He placed a hand behind her head and wrapped his arm around her as he pulled her closer to him. She pushed him against the wall when things got heated and was trying to reach for the doorknob when he abruptly pulled away and broke their kiss. “What’s going on?” There was a puzzled expression on her face and she blinked a few times, trying to understand what had just happened. “What the hell were you thinking to just kiss me like that?” “Excuse me?! It’s not like you didn’t kiss me back! And don’t you dare talk to me like this again!” “I still want nothing to do with you, woman. Go find your boyfriend.” He walked into his bedroom and slammed the door. “Ugh, why can’t you be nice like Goku?” “Kakarott is an idiot.” He shouted from inside. Bulma spent about two or three minutes staring at his door, trying to understand why it was so hard to get through him when he recovered his senses and pushed her away. She was starting to regret her decision to break up with Yamcha. Inside the room, Vegeta stood a few feet away from the door, with his back turned to it. His heart was racing and he hated all these new things he was feeling. He couldn’t help but think they made him weak. Still, he found himself opening the door and grabbing her arm before she could walk away. Surprised, she looked at him. “What are you doing, Vegeta?” Without saying a word, he simply pulled her inside his room and closed the door behind him.

#DBShipsWeek #DBShipsWeek23 #Bulma Briefs #Vegeta #Bulma #Bulma x Vegeta #VegeBul #Dragon Ball Z #DBZ #Fanfic #Fanfiction

15 notes · View notes

smileygoth · 7 months

Text

5. In the Shadows (WODtober 2023)

Part 5 of my WODtober story. Taking the daily prompts and trying to weave a vampire story from them! In this chapter, our protagonist is accosted by an old friend and finally starts to remember her past.

Word Count: 980 words.

CW: None that I can think of!

Image from the game VTM: Blood Hunt.

Find the previous chapters here!

‘Holeeeeee shit. Imogen?’

She froze as she stepped away from the train, scanning the faces around her. She was cold, tired and hungry. She hadn’t fed for at least two nights. She’d spent a boring night in a boring hotel room with ‘Eliza’ refusing to talk to her; she’d snuck out as soon as the sun set to call a taxi that had taken over an hour to turn up and then refused to take her further than the train station two towns over; she’d raced to get the last train heading out to the city so she wouldn’t have to spend another night in a strange place, and hidden in the toilet to avoid the ticket operator; and now that she was finally back in the city, it was early morning, the platform was crowded with drunk revellers flooding out of their various bars and clubs, and all she wanted was to go home - but she couldn’t remember where ‘home’ was. The scowl plastered to her face had caused many fellow passengers to give her a wide berth, and she was glad of it. One wrong word and she felt like she might snap and add a second Masquerade breach to her list of crimes.

But when she heard that name, something in her clicked, like a switch had suddenly been flipped. Imogen.

‘Yes!’ she cried, turning, trying to place the voice to a face. This voice had been male and gravelly, with a slight Slavic lilt, and definitely, blessedly outside of her head. ‘Yes, that’s me!’

A man stepped forward, a plain, unremarkable man wearing plain, unremarkable clothes, and put a hand on her arm. As he touched her, his face seemed somehow to distort slightly. She squinted, trying to see him clearly, and then she realised. This is a disguise.

As the thought occurred to her, the man’s features blurred and changed entirely. Now she was looking at a short, hunched man with skin that was cracked, scabbed and greying. Where it wasn’t scabbed, it was almost transparent, with dark blackened veins showing through. His eyes were cloudy and pale, like the eyes of a corpse. The hand on her arm had long, skeletal fingers that ended in jagged, blackened nails. She recoiled, but only a little, because as she saw him she realised that she knew this face. It was, after all, a difficult face to forget.

‘Imogen!’ he said again. ‘What are you doing here?’

She frowned. ‘Why wouldn’t I be here?’

‘Why would-’ he sputtered, then stopped and scowled. ‘Fucksake. Come with me.’ His sharp fingers closed around her arm, pulling her along with him. Bewildered, she didn’t object.

He led her over to a maintenance door set into one wall, and ignoring the sign that read ‘Staff Only: No Admittance’, he slipped a card out of his pocket and swiped it through the scanner on the lock. A little light flashed from red to green and the door opened with a mechanical sigh. He yanked it open without hesitation and pulled her in after him, into a narrow, poorly lit corridor, littered with cleaning signs and buckets on wheels, that ran along the other side of the wall to another door at the far end. But instead of taking her to the next door, he pushed her roughly against the wall, pinning her in place.

‘What the hell are you doing out here?’ he hissed, leaning in close. His breath smelled sweetly of decay. ‘You’re supposed to be lying in the Prince’s catacombs with a stake through your heart!’

She - Imogen - squirmed in his surprisingly strong grip. ‘Yeah,’ she replied. ‘Who are you?’

He blinked. ‘Wh… You don’t remember me? What, did your time in torpor scramble your brains? It’s me, Miro! We worked together, remember? I got you all the useful intel on the old junk you love so much!’

Memories flared in her mind, of museums and vaults and tombs long sealed. With them came an intense affection, a curiosity - a desire. ‘Artifacts,’ she found herself saying. ‘Not junk. Have some respect.’

Miro grinned, a curve of sharp, mismatched teeth. ‘That’s more like it.’

‘I’m sorry, Miro,’ Imogen said. ‘I don’t remember much of anything at the moment. Things are coming back in pieces.’

He eyed her suspiciously. ‘So you don’t remember how you got out?’

She grimaced in frustration. ‘Got out of where?’

‘The catacombs! The Prince’s catacombs! Remember those?’

Dimly, she recalled hearing rumours of how the Prince of the city kept those who broke his rules staked in ancient crypts located somewhere beneath the city. Whispers of how he would go down there sometimes and take out his anger on their prone, defenceless bodies. He notorious for having a short temper, even for a Brujah. She shrugged. ‘That’s not where I woke up,’ she replied. ‘But there was a box … and a stake…’

He stared at her carefully for a moment. ‘Are you lying to me? I know your lot are good at that.’

‘No, I’m not .. and what do you mean ‘my lot’?’

Miro stepped back, releasing her, and laughed. ‘Holy crap. You really can’t remember anything, can you? You do know you’re a vampire, right?’

Imogen snorted. ‘Yes, I know I’m a vampire. I know … some things. As I’m reminded of them, it seems. I didn’t know my name until you called me by it just now.’

Miro smirked. ‘So what if I reminded you that you’re desperately in love with me?’

Imogen pursed her lips, pretending to consider. ‘Hmm … Nope. Not feeling it. Nice try, creep.’

‘Eh, whatever,’ Miro said with a shrug. ‘Do you at least remember that you can trust me?’

She paused. That felt true. ‘Yeah,’ she agreed. ‘That I remember.’

‘Good. Then you’ll know that I’ll help you.’ He paused, thinking, then nodded. ‘Okay. Come with me.’

#vamily #vampire the masquerade #vampire #vampirism #dark pack #world of darkness #vtm #vamptober #wodtober #wod #nosferatu #camarilla

4 notes · View notes

micallum · 8 months

Text

May I copy your notes? (Melvyn Jaminet x OFC)

PART I. ACQUAINTANCES | AO3 LINK 2249 words

Image by @oscar-piastri from x

Full disclosure: I have never written rugby fics so please do not be mad if I do not get things right, okay? Thanks.

Disclaimer: I DID NO PROOFREADING, SORRY.

What makes a jock? Is it the muscles or the attitude? This is not something Maisie has given much, or any thought to at all. She signed up for a good college, kept her grades up and enjoyed her clubs and spare time as much as she could. Getting that degree in Marketing was the ultimate goal, and she was methodical about her studies. Having a scholarship was a good incentive to always find a way to make things work.

Without a doubt, her bags were too heavy, but there was no helping it; she needed her books and her different coloured pens and markers. She had a peculiar transparent plastic bag, which she used to get into the library and sign out books to study from.

That morning she had already been to the library and took out two books. Each for a different class.

She enjoyed the kind of lessons Professor Claude was teaching. He had two assistants, one of which helped with practice lessons and the other one which helped record and upload all classes to the school’s students’ website.

Her seat was always near the center of the classroom, and she found herself trapped in the graphs and economic theories Professor Claude went on and on about. The seats at her sides had been empty for almost two weeks. She knew it was a difficult course and it only awarded a couple of credits, but she liked it.It helped that it only took three hours of her time to be in the classroom. Maisie made the best of the empty seats next to her, getting comfortable by placing her bags on one of the seats and spreading her notebook and pencil bag on the space for the other person to her left. She put her water bottle to her right and often forgot to drink while furiously copying the examples from the board in colorful notes and doodles.

It was that morning, on the first lesson of the week, that a seemingly new student showed up a good 45 minutes into the 60 minute lecture. He had broad shoulders and a strong build, he was one of the tallest guys in the class. Not unlike other students, he wore a pair of shorts and a shirt. The odd thing about him was his empty-looking backpack.

He walked in and walked to the back, in a swift move he pulled both of Maisie’s bags up and placed them on the next seat over before sitting down as if the bags weren’t ridiculous in weight.

Maisie’s eyes were glued to the screen where the professor was showing another theory with a formula. Her hand kept writing on the paper and her mouth was agape, completely immersed in the work ahead of her.

The strange student looked at the screen for a moment and then his eyes turned to her. He leaned to his right, and reached out to play with her pencil case.

“Hey.” He whispered. “Have you been here the whole time?”

Maisie blinked, “what?” she whispered back.

“Did you arrive to class on time?” He kept his voice down, fingers tossing the small fur ball on the zipper of the pencil bag.

She hummed in confirmation, nodding slowly without missing a word of the class ahead of them.

“Cool, so...uh... may I borrow your notes?” He wondered.

Maisie put her pen down and reached for a neon green gel pen, which made the stranger leave her case alone. She eyed her notes quickly, wondering why he was speaking to her in the first place. “I don’t think I know him…?”

“Uhm…” Maisie was unsure how to reply.

“... and that will be all for today, we don’t have time for the next topic. See you here on Thursday.” The professor announced and a couple of students started asking him questions right away.

“So?” She finally looked at him.

He looked strong and big. He was hunched over, leaning towards her a bit. He smiled like a little kid and his eyes showed a gentleness true to a kid.

She gave in, she had to. She couldn’t bring herself to say no. Not when he gave her that sweet boyish smile. She forced herself to look away and mumbled he could take her notes after Thursday, begrudgingly admitting she liked to revise for that class on tuesdays. To which he nods, thanking her.

“I’ve got some catching up to do.” He said while she picked up her stuff.

Once the two stood up from their chairs, the clock read 9:02 o’clock. Maisie still had another class that day at 10am but with some spare time for a coffee. She thanked the stranger when he handed her the two bags. Not without noticing how it seemed to weigh nothing for him while she felt her entire body leaning towards the side the bags were hanging from her shoulder.

“My name is Melvyn, by the way.”

“Maisie,” she shook hands with him and began walking outside.

Melvyn followed and once outside the pair said goodbye only to meet again at the same spot on Thursday.

It turned out Melvyn was not too good at sitting down and quietly listening to lectures. Maisie did ask why he was taking that class. He was working towards a Business Major, so he needed it. Besides, he was in the rugby team so he needed to keep his grades up or he would be kicked off the team.

“Oh, so you train every day?” She asked him as he put away her notebook in his large backpack.

“Yeah, sometimes early morning, sometimes evening… I swear I am not this bad in every class. I don’t know what’s wrong but Professor Claude puts me to sleep so I end up tuning out.”

Maisie shrugged, unable to relate to his feelings. “Don’t worry about it, just please make sure to give them back on Monday. I will be in room 305B at 10am.”

Melvyn tilted his head to the side, “do you take psychology?”

She sighed in surprise, “well… yes.”

“Cool. See you then, Miss thing!” He turned to walk away, leaving her with a simple wave.

“Later…” She pulled her bags up and turned the opposite way.

In her head she was hoping he wouldn’t lose her notes, but just in case she had taken pictures of the last few lessons. She wondered why he wouldn’t also take pictures instead of taking her notebook with him. But who was she to judge? Maybe he knew he wouldn’t copy them then. Or something…

The borrowing of notes happened again the following week, with Melvyn showing up on Thursday with a sleeveless shirt and a couple of long kinesiology bands. She got curious and asked after eyeing it for a good minute.

Melvyn was nonchalant about everything, or so it seemed. He told her about his games and how rugby worked. Maisie admitted she had watched a few matches growing up but had not followed any teams since starting college.

“Ohhh, you should come to see us play on Friday! We’re good, you know?”

Maisie’s cheeks turned pink, “Friday?” She blew air out of her mouth, “I’ve cinema club on Fridays.” Melvyn shrugged. “But good luck!”

The two waved and walked in opposite ways as usual.

This type of exchange would go on for almost a full month, with Melvyn handing back the notebook every Monday at 10am as she walked out of her psychology classroom. They would talk for a while in the hallway and then walk away. The friendship grew at a slow pace, and happened organically. On Thursdays Maisie knew he would be outside, most probably leaning on the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. She did not bother her notebook away, she knew she was going to hand it to him.

And she was surprised when Melvyn brought up the topic of a paper. He had to write a paper for his Real Estate Class. It was worth almost half the grade, and he was worried he would not be able to hand in something coherent.

Maisie asked him if any of his friends was taking that class with him, to which he replied by saying most of his friends were on the team too and studying sports sciences. She was the only friend he could rely on for this.

The paper was not due until the following week. So there was still enough time for Melvyn to get it done. He put his hands together and swore he would beg her if he had to.

“Please don’t.” She sighed outside of the classroom.

Looking down at her watch she realized they had been talking for almost 20 minutes. It was her coffee time, so she began walking towards the stairs so she could get to the small cafeteria in the building next door.

“Come on, Maisie!” He made playful puppy eyes at her as he followed her.

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes, “We can meet in the library tomorrow. I will reserve a study room at 4, so be there on time.”

“4pm?” He lit up, hands dropping at his sides. “Got it, thank you Miss Beau!”

Maisie frowned, turning to him “Excuse me?”

“Beaufoy, right?” He gave her a small side smile, grabbing his cap and pulling it off to put it back on but backwards. “That’s your last name, yes?”

Maisie nodded, reminded that she always doodled her name on the top of every page in her notebooks. A habit she kept from elementary school.

“What’s yours?” She asked, realizing that she did not know his last name.

“Jaminet,” he pulled the door open and the pair stepped into the fresh morning air. “See you tomorrow then!”

He was a jock, no doubt. Melvyn was able to write the paper, the problem was that his ideas were spread throughout with little order. Maisie read over the text on his computer and began making notes on a sheet of paper. She did not need to take the class to know how to properly present this.

Maisie then explained to him what her notes meant and told him to start over but basing his new draft on the first one. Melvyn almost seemed shocked with the idea of writing another draft. Why not just edit this one? Maisie pushed his cap off his head and told him to listen to her.

The result was much better, so the rugby player admitted her way was better than his. After only 3 hours the paper was clearer and easier to read. Maisie rubbed her eyes after the final read of the day. She gave him a thumbs up and advised him to check his sources again, adding them and then it would be ready. Melvyn smiled from ear to ear in glee thanking her profusely.

Outside the weather was beginning to get colder, with winter hitting the country oddly late in the last months of the year. It was dark and Melvyn felt guilty about sending his friend home in a bus.

“When’s the next one?” He asked her as they walked towards the nearest bus stop.

Maisie covered her mouth, hiding a yawn from him. Her eyes showed tiredness but she remained her usual cheerful self.

“Hm? In 20 minutes, I think.” The pair stopped in front of the bus schedule at the bus stop and confirmed this.

“Why don’t you let me give you a ride?” Melvyn offered sheepishly brushing his bearded jawline with his hand.

She thought about it for a moment, to be honest she did not feel like waiting 20 minutes when she could be home in half that time. But to make Melvyn go out of his way to take her home? She was about to say no when a couple of drunk students walked past on their way to their dorm room across from campus.

“I-” the two of them looked at the drunk twenty-somethings. “Yes please.”

Melvyn nodded, showing her the way to the parking lot. He helped her put on his helmet since he did not have another one and then announced he would not drive too fast.

There was no way around it, Maisie had to hold on to Melvyn. Although he did not seem especially excited or bothered by it, she decided to not make a fuss out of it and simply wrapped her arms around his waist, holding on to her own arm at the front.

Not even 10 minutes later she was getting off the bike right in front of her dorm building. Melvyn made a mental note about it, they had never previously spoken about their dorm situations. He was in a sort of unofficial fraternity, sharing rooms with other players from the team. In the meantime he was amused to learn that his friend was in the strictest catholic dorm.

“Thank you!” She put the helmet on his hand. “I’ll see you on Monday. Good luck with your game tomorrow!”

He stayed seated on his bike, “Aren’t you coming? I think you would like meeting the guys…”

Maisie blinked, “sorry, my sister’s in town tomorrow.”

Melvyn nodded, remembering the vague comment she made about it the day before. He waved and pulled the helmet on as he waved. Maisie went inside and waved from there through the glass doors.

Why did Melvyn feel disappointed she could not make it to his games ever?

To be continued...

#fanfiction #melvyn jaminet fanfic #ofc #melvyn x ofc #pls do not hate my ofc’s last name #melvyn jaminet fanfiction

2 notes · View notes