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biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer · 3 days

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Hello! I was wondering if you could write hcs for how everyone would be at a carnival?? Thank you<3

The Best of All Amenities (All x MC/Reader)

I'M BACK MOTHERFUCKERS >:D

Hello my beloved Anon, I hope you have an awesome day/night! <33 Thanks for letting me write this for you, and I'm sorry for the extreme lateness of this. I'm on my knees right now forgive me Anon raaaa.

Btw I'm getting back into the habit of writing so cut me some slack for this one. I'm also not experienced with carnivals at all so I apologise for potential inaccuracies my dear. </33

Post-Completion A/N: I just realised this said carnival instead of fucking amusement park I'm so done. I tried to make it work for both I'm sorry Anonnie. i'm sorry but have this anywayy because i've never been to a carnival and don't know what the hell goes on there and also I am kinda silly and if this is inaccurate I apologise

T.W.: Mentions of vomiting.

- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

Amenities: something that helps to provide comfort, convenience, or enjoyment.

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Brittney is a walking carnival let's be real.

Like her hair screams classic circus-tent except the white and red is pink and blue.

Would get cotton candy and judgmentally eat it while surveying the rides.

Y'all would be going around looking at everything.

She's probably gonna try to not get on anything because she's shitting herself at the thought of getting on a coaster frfr "not bothered".

Will carry iced coffee around, she somehow has an endless surplus of coffee. It's genuinely terrifying.

You both will wander around and gossip, along with judging the outfits of everyone else like it's a fashion strip.

Will get angry af if the line takes too long.

Will get on at least 1 ride out of spite, ends up almost vomiting. "Never again."

Y'all are paparazzi tho like shit's crazy with how many photos you both take of each other. shame it ain't the kinky kind

Deryl would go berserk. Like this boy will literally lose his marbles from joy.

If you invite him to any gathering, amusement park, carnival (hell any park at all), this boy will be dragging you everywhere.

Indecisive about where to go.

Very indecisive about what to eat. he'll harass you for food teehee

Is the type to get really excited about rollercoasters, until it's your turns to go on one.

In that case he'll start panicking.

You'll have to convince him he's not gonna die.

Will be quaking in his boots from fear.

Don't worry he gets on the ride anyway. Especially if he gets one from you after.

Will just be having a blast despite the terror tbh.

Will not go into any haunted house tho.

Like he will sprint out of there.

You'll have to run after him so he won't get lost lmfao.

Will expect emotional support from you after.

You both have a massive ton of fun tho prepare for more bedroom edition fun later.

Jess will be sceptical.

Don't get her wrong, she'd love to go.

But she's shy and a massive homebody.

and can't socialise to save her life

When you both get there, she'll be overwhelmed by the amount of people.

Sorry broski you're gonna have to do the talking.

Will be scared af of the rides, will clutch onto you for dear life.

May be the type to silently vanish and reappear because she's a midget often caught up in staring at venues and looking at things.

Will be the type to just cling to you tbh

She's either glued to you or unstick so hard and fast she'll teleport to the other side of the planet.

You'll probs take photos tbh, she does have an internet influence.

Y'all will be discussing each others' fav idols and celebs over desserts.

And of course loving each other's company and hopefully bodies.

Crowe will be happy to go wherever with you.

So he'll def be willing to do anything at this entertainment complex.

Yáll are probs gonna grab some snacks and take more mellow rides tbh.

He doesn't seem the type to like really violent ones.

Will probably be the type to just observe you go on a ride.

Will also take photos. He wants to admire you remember this day. <33

Will hold your drinks as well.

Will just serve as your porter and server let's be real.

He'll def go on the more chill rides tho.

Will even let his hair down to feel the wind. >:]

and also so you can pull it ngh

10/10 hair pulling sesh would do again yeehaw

You both have an epic day together. Time for an even sexier night

Hyugo would have already been dragging you places.

So when he stumbles upon the existence of this place, you bet he's taking you there.

Y'all are gonna be fucking parading around.

He's gonna just *point* somewhere and you're going.

Like it's not even a question or a debate.

He'll have a maniacal grin on his face while doing it too.

i'm scared send help

shawty getting a tad cray cray here

You're going on a ride hehe and he's gonna stare ahead very intently, grip the steel bar and have a very spoopy grin on his face.

Has a blast.

Y'all go everywhere, you make time for everything.

He'll shoot people in the line to make sure you have time teehee

y'all wont get arrested cause his daddy's got money

Oh. And candy.

You both eat all the candy.

You both also spend like 2 hours vomiting because of how much candy you had.

10/10 would puke guts out again.

But you both genuinely just have a blast. Shame it ain't a blast of smth white and sticky.

Geo will spawn at the venue with the most monotone expression ever. he's still shocked you invited him teehee

Will recoil at the sight of the massive crowds, will probably drag you off somewhere quieter.

Alas there aren't that many 'quiet' places to go to, so he'll grow to tolerate it (because of you and only you).

Will be the type to order food that he knows you like felt like getting, gives it to you anyway.

Will not be caught dead going on a ride, the screaming irritates him too much.

Unless you beg enough, then he'll do one of his choosing. (it's the most violent one because he wants you to stop calling him a scaredy-cat).

Will be dead silent the whole time, gets off unfazed AF (he'll be hiding his nausea dwdw).

Will also probably hide his face because...his influence, his reputation, (his beautiful sexy face), the fucking paparazzi.

Will probably try to make you go somewhere else with him after, like a cafe or smth, somewhere 'peaceful'.

Does enjoy himself though, will probably not admit it due to...pride.

Only thing is; nowhere's more peaceful than your bed teehee

Sol literally will be squealing with joy if you ask him to go anywhere with you.

This man is too down bad to live.

May or may not buy ice cream so he can watch you sensually lick it.

This bastard will 110% enter any form of haunted house just to see if you'd (hopefully) cling to him.

Will end up clutching your hand either way. <333

Everything is on him, like. E v e r y t h i n g. even you!!

You can't pay for anything, 'tis illegal.

Will be the type to just sit on a ride and hold back a smile because he's not bothered to scream like everyone else (he hates it when people do that, will probs wear headphones for the noise), so he'll just sit there and quietly rejoice.

Will bring his own food beforehand, in case you both don't wanna spend money on the stupidly expensive food there.

Is genuinely happy af tho, this guy will do whatever you want, win whatever you want.

Also will threaten people to move out of the line if they're holding it up or something.

Has no shame.

And that's okay.

Because the shameful things he does in the bedroom is more than enough to balance it out. ;)

You both have a banger time tho. *claps approvingly*

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matan4il · 3 days

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what do you, as an Israeli, think of Standing Together? asking entirely in good faith because I see things supporting them a lot, but it's always from American Jews and (no offense to us), I don't totally trust that we're informed enough to know what we're talking about and what their perspective and usefulness truly is in the way that someone who actually lives there would. so many orgs are untrustworthy or covertly antisemitic and it made me curious for your perspective. thank you for everything. <3

Hi Nonnie!

Sorry it took me a moment to reply, but I hope my answer can still help you!

As an idea, Standing Together is a movement that I should have been all for. They are pro-coexistence, and so am I. There's no doubt in my mind that Jews aren't going anywhere, and neither are Arabs, and we are all better off working together for a good future for all. Supposedly, that's ST's message, so they absolutely should be an organization that I would be all for.

BUT from everything I've experienced, the narrative that they adopted is way more one-sided than their official stance, they're closer to being anti-Israel than balanced, which makes them problematic for me. Especially when you look at the individual actions and statements of many of this movement's leaders, it's evident that coexistence to them comes at the expense of historical facts, as well as certain Jewish rights. Obviously, the leaders' personal positions influence the movement's stance and actions.

For example, in this interview from Nov 2023, a Jewish leader of the movement falsely calls Israel's 2014 operation in Gaza against Hamas, "a war against Gaza and its people" (brief summary: Hamas kidnapped and murdered three Jewish teenagers in Judea and Samaria, Israel launched Operation Brother's Keeper during which it arrested some of Hamas' terrorists in that area looking for intel on where those 3 kids were and what happened to them, Hamas fired rockets from Gaza at Israel to get its terrorists released and used terror tunnels, including ones that crossed the border from Gaza into Israel, to kill and kidnap our people. That's what Israel ended up fighting against in Operation Protective Edge), while an Arab leader of ST defines their way as one which rejects "maintaining violent military control over millions of people," but says nothing against the terrorism that's used against millions of Israelis and Jews.

In terms of the recent war, since Oct 7 they have come out calling for a ceasefire now very early on in the war (I can't remember when they started it, but I know by Dec 7, 2023 they'd already put out a vid calling to stop the war, when really the ground operation only started about a month earlier, before it could possibly achieve anything), meaning this call was undermining Israel's right (and duty!) to defend its citizens, and asking us to surrender our goals of returning all the hostages and destroying Hamas' rule (only the latter can prevent Hamas from fulfilling its promise to carry out more massacres of the type that started this war, and has claimed so many lives on both sides). Another thing you can see in that vid is ST participating in spreading the false narrative that Israel is intentionally starving the Gazans (you can see the same thing in this poster, which says in Hebrew, "Thou shalt not starve." It's a poster for humanitarian aid they were supposedly bringing into Gaza, as if the IDF would ever let anyone bring anything they want unchecked into a war zone, or as if the amount of aid a few Israeli cars could bring is more than the hundreds of trucks Israel has been allowing in, checked. ST's just posturing and spreading an anti-Israel libel). Helping to spread a libel against one side is NOT being pro-coexistence. Imagine if they were spreading a libel that all Gazans are Hamas terrorists, and took part in the massacre! I think it's clear that, even if it's not simple to tell them apart, there are people in Gaza who are complicit, and people who are uninvolved and innocent. So if ST were spreading such a libel against Gazans, I'd oppose them. I am not going to do less when ST is spreading a libel against my own people.

I hope one day they correct course, but I can't currently support them. Give me REAL solidarity between Jews and Arabs, which sees and recognizes the humanity of both, not a repeat of the de-humanization of Jews, and a surrender of Jewish rights to an anti-Jewish narrative. That's not real peace, it's not real coexistence, it's a return to the way that we Jews have had to live for centuries in exile: always dependent on the good will (or lack of it) of the majority under whose will we lived, forced to bend ourselves, our rights, our dignity, too often even our very lives, to our subjugators, in the hope (and without any guarantees) that they will show us some kindness.

Many of the movement's leaders have not only expressed themselves in a way that reflects an acceptance of the anti-Israeli narrative, and took one-sided positions I can't agree with, they also acted in ways that have left me feeling quite unsafe.

For example, one of ST's founders, Yeela Raanan, joined and supported the violent Palestinian riots on Israel's border with Gaza, organized by Hamas, meant to breach the border fence, which started in 2018. Today we know these riots were a part of Hamas' preparations for the Oct 7, 2023 massacre, as they were getting the IDF used to them coming closer and closer to the fence. TBH, those of us listening to the statements of Hamas' leaders, we didn't need to wait for the border to be breached in order to know that it would be a bloodbath if they succeed. Sinwar's promise that they will reap out the hearts of Israelis with spoons from our chests was enough. Also, the repeated use during these riots of flags and kites with swastikas was pretty telling. So yeah, I can't trust anyone who supported that.

The movement is also financially supported in part by funds, such as the New Israel Fund, which finances a lot of good causes, but also many anti-Israel ones, and the German fund Rosa Luxemburg Stiftung, which supports the antisemitic BDS movement (it's antisemitic first of all because one of its stated goals is to put an end to Israel as a Jewish state, another reason is their use of antisemitic tropes in characterizing the Jewish state).

The ironic thing is that, despite how imbalanced against Israel ST is, it was still the so-called pro-Palestinians who actually started a campaign to boycott the organization. Not because of anything specific ST said or did. It was simply for being an Israeli organization, showing the diversity of Israeli society, which is apparently bad 'coz it "normalizes" Israel's existence. That shows you the anti-Israel nature of this opposition, that no amount of willingness to cooperate with the de-humanization of Jews and erasure of our rights will ever be enough for people whose real motivation is antisemitism, that wishes to see an end to the Jewish state.

I hope this helps, Nonnie! Once more, my apologies for how long it's taken me to reply. Be well!

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #israelunderattack #terrorism #anti terrorism #antisemitism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #standing together

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ifeelthereforeimnot · 1 day

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A concept: John fucks off for a hunt, leaving his teenage boys in a motel. Something happens idk they run out of money or the owner is a creep anyways the boys are effectively homeless. Why can't Dean just get a job? I don't know maybe he did and something happened to Sammy while he was at work and he vowed Never Again anyway

Squatting in abandoned houses, curling up on musty couches to stay warm in the night, clothes shopping in their high school's lost and found bin, Sam standing guard while Dean assaults a vending machine to get them lunches, splurging for a room with a shower when they manage to save enough for a night with electricity and running water, Sam practically living in the library and Dean at the bar except they're somehow also always together.

Whore's baths in gas station bathrooms, impatient employees banging on the door because what the hell are those two boys taking so long in there for, snickering and "one second!" as they toss shirts back and forth and stumble into their jeans, still damp from their "shower" in the sink, Dean pocketing toothpaste on the way out so Sam can brush his teeth on the side of a highway and spit foamy blue into a mud puddle.

That Teenage Immortality thrumming through their veins as they sprint down an alley, laughter echoing off the brick walls and streetlights reflecting in puddles, a wad of cash fisted in Dean's hand and an eighth of weed in Sam's hoodie, good old fashioned hustling and scams and stealing, Sammy's too-long sleeves and floppy hair and mumbled 'scuse me ma'am could I use your phone to call my mom while Dean pockets the liquor aisle, cackling in some empty parking lot as they count their bills and pool their winnings.

It's dark at times, violent, ugly. Going through packs of smokes like candy because they stave off the hunger, Dean batting his eyes at some sleazy shit while Sam's nimble fingers curl around his wallet, sometimes the boys aren't quick enough, sometimes the guy turns around, Dean's hand clutching his gun going from trembling in fear to shaking with rage when he sees that sneer directed at Sammy now like hell is he touching "Sammy, duck!", bullet skimming the guy's shoulder, chests heaving as they sprint away. Dean gets a knife pulled on him trying to hustle a guy at pool and Sam throws himself at the dude and if Dean fights dirty, Sam's downright filthy, he yanks hair and digs his nails in and bites down until he feels a crunch, Dean brushing sweaty hair from Sam's face later as he rinses and spits blood "Jesus, Sammy". Cleaning him up with the shirt off his back soaked in cheap vodka muttering over and over "Jesus, Sammy" as he pictures his boy snarling with blood in his teeth.

John comes back and Dean feeds him some shit about why they had to switch motels and he's too strung out and exhausted to question it. Or why his eldest son's waist has shrunk two belt notches. Or the yellowing finger marks branded into his bicep. Or the shadows under the boys' eyes or their rancid breath from malnutrition or their greasy hair or their dull skin or their dingy clothes, previously belonging to some trucker several sizes larger than them.

To Sam, it was an adventure. He was safe, even when he wasn't. He had his big brother. He had Dean to take care of him and make sure he was safe and fed and clothed and clean and went to school and did his homework and had a place to sleep. He didn't have to worry about those things. But Dean did. He'll laugh and go "yea, Sammy, I remember" but his smile doesn't reach his eyes and he can almost feel that bone deep hunger clawing at his insides, slipping into exhaustion like quicksand but he's white-knuckling his gun, he has to stay awake because he heard a noise outside and Sammy is sound asleep in his lap, he looks so innocent and sweet and safe and Dean is gonna keep him that way.

#sam winchester #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #sam girl #samdean #wincest #teenchesters #weecest #tessa thinks out loud

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talesofadragon · 2 days

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𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬

Synopsis: Receiving wind that Hydra has successfully managed to awaken another wave of winter soldiers, Captain America appoints his two best avengers, Bucky Barnes and Y/N Y/L/N, for the job. But aside from Bucky’s trepidation at reliving his worst memories, there’s something else rooting him in his place–the fear of inflicting harm on the woman he loves the most. Between her encouraging words and his violent past, what will happen when Y/N is forced to encounter her boyfriend’s alter ego?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

Warnings: Angst. The Winter Soldier and Bucky existing in one body. Hurt/Comfort

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬 Masterlist | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 the Soldat’s head. Darker than the cell he had been confined to, denser than the Hydra womb that held him before his birth.

His memories ebbed and flowed like shifting tides, tugging at his subconscious. Sometimes, he overexerted himself, forcing the memory of Y/N’s torture to the forefront of his mind to ensure that whenever Bucky resurfaced, he would never forget his vices.

The shifts happened without warning. His awareness was elusive as he trod the thin line between being an Avenger and a Hydra Asset, time passing around him in cycles he couldn’t track. Bucky didn’t know if he resisted or resigned himself to his punishment. It was all a blur. So, when he blinked back the haze and found himself standing before a door, he grappled with consciousness enough to realize two things:

One, the soldier had been momentarily drowned.

Two, Bucky was no longer in his cell.

Bucky blinked languidly, struggling to raise his lashes enough to dispel his stupor. He scanned the hallway, eyes roving the expanse of a familiar space. There stood a man, he noticed, blond and bulky. A soldier, he thought to himself until his mind whispered a name. Steve.

Steve stood a few feet away, arms crossed, veins protruding. A woman stood beside him, her short stature belying the fierce energy emanating from her fiery red hair. Enigmatic and strong, she was the embodiment of intensity. Red Room, he recalled immediately. Romanoff came after.

“Where am I?” Bucky questioned, the thin thread of his consciousness studying the two for any sign of injuries. Neither sustained more than days-old lacerations, easing his dichotomous mind. They regarded him idly, almost as if they didn’t know how they were supposed to feel.

Bucky’s thoughts weighed on him, visions and discordant memories playing in a loop. He was ready to surrender to the Soldat’s call until he heard Steve say, “Why don’t you go inside and find out?”

There was a spark of recognition or a warning sign at Steve’s words. Whatever it was, it forced Bucky’s focus afloat. His legs moved, crossing the distance between the hall and the door in less than two seconds, leading him into a large room bathed in the smell of antiseptic and medication. A hospital room.

He panicked then. His mind, so distraught, couldn't decide which persona should take control. His once steady hands shook, tremors shooting from his fingertips up his arm. Leave, his mind ordered. But he couldn't even interpret the meaning of that single word.

While his thoughts were in a frenzy and his body in unbridled mania, his eyes were transfixed on the hospital bed, specifically, its occupant, who greeted him with the same warmth she had always dedicated to him.

Inviting Y/E/C eyes and a winsome smile tore through his inhibitions when Y/N whispered one word that threatened to tear his soul apart, “James.”

She was a sorceress, if not in this life then another. Inherited or acquired, her words held a penetrative power, breaking through his mental defenses and compelling him to move closer. His fingers ached for touch, tingling by his sides, begging to reach for her. Stop, something—someone inside him growled. Since when did he itch for physical contact?

Bucky realized he hadn’t spoken to her yet. The past discourse was only a fleeting thought in his mind. He cleared his throat then, though that action was nothing more than a front. Nothing about his demeanor was pristine, not his speech nor his thoughts. But a part of him implored to reach for Y/N in any form possible.

So with all his nonexistent assurance, Bucky braved himself. “You’re still here,” he commented, feeling woeful at his choice of words. God, he was pathetic.

To his surprise, Y/N smiled broadly. “Yes.” Her saccharine voice filled the room. “Thanks to you.”

“No,” Bucky rebutted immediately.

“James—”

“I’m not—” Bucky lost his voice mid-sentence. He looked past Y/N’s small, disheveled figure, eyes raking over the slightly open window. “I’m not James.”

Y/N didn’t question his evasion.

He felt her fidgeting in her bed. His gaze shifted to her, watching as she repositioned the white sheets, letting them settle at her waist. The movement exposed her bandaged arms, the discoloration clear even under the thick cloth. Vulnerable, his thoughts murmured. Weak.

“Who are you then?” she asked earnestly.

Bucky’s mouth went dry, his mind spiraling as he confessed, “I don’t know.”

“Can I tell you who you are?” Y/N asked.

He considered her question, his response wavering with every shift in his stance, fingers drumming against his thighs. Should she? It seemed simple, yet it felt like he was seeking permission. It was absurd. Bucky Barnes was now a rusted war machine, seeking approval from the ghost of his past self.

Who was he beyond the torment and devastation? And who was the Winter Soldier beyond the atrocities etched in angry red on the remaining flesh of his prosthetic arm?

He found his answer.

“You don’t know me.”

The finality in Bucky’s tone did little to deter Y/N. She reached out, an oximeter latched onto her forefinger. Back away! the Soldat hissed. Bucky wasn't sure whom the command was directed at.

Delicately, like the gentle caress of a butterfly's wings against his skin, a tingling sensation raced along his pinky. It was a subtle yet electrifying touch, igniting a warmth that seemed to radiate from the very core of his being. As Y/N entwined her fingers with his, the sensation only intensified, enveloping him in a cocoon of unexpected comfort.

“I might just surprise you,” she murmured. When he didn’t respond, he expected her to continue. Instead, she leaned back, her head resting on the pillow. Her breaths were steady, the machines around her beeping rhythmically. Before he could process the sounds, Y/N tugged on his hand. Somehow, he moved closer, his body hovering above hers.

Cynicism darkened Bucky’s features. "What will you explain to me?" he asked. "Beyond what history has already confirmed."

"I’m going to tell you who you really are," Y/N said, her voice firm. And if that alone wasn’t enough to pique his curiosity—his willingness to listen despite his inner turmoil—Y/N added, her thumb gently tracing patterns on his skin, "And what you mean to me."

Monster, his brain hissed, a sharp reminder of his past sins. Years of indoctrination under Hydra taught him to suppress and conceal his discomfort. Yet, he couldn’t suppress the wince that escaped him, the Soldat clawing at his consciousness like a venomous serpent.

“James,” Y/N uttered, her voice barely audible to his ears.

Bucky craved silence again, a part of him recoiling from the truth. He drew a deep breath, his silver-lined irises betraying the turmoil within. “What am I?” he asked rhetorically, the answer already known. At least to him. “What am I if not the cause of your suffering?”

“Perhaps, let’s start with the fact that you’re the reason I’m alive,” Y/N offered.

“No,” Bucky refuted. The hospital bed threatened to collapse under the weight of his tight grip. But the weight of his compunction, the Soldier’s remorse, proved heavier. “Don’t you dare say that!”

“James,” Y/N sighed, her voice gentle yet firm.

Bucky snapped, interrupting her before she could continue, “You are in a hospital room.”

“Yes,” she affirmed, “although I am alive and healing, not on the brink of death.”

“What difference does it make? You’re still here because of my past actions. My volatile mind!”

“Your volatile mind, in case you've forgotten, is also what saved me, us, from the clutches of Hydra.”

“Saved? I endangered you!” Bucky spat, his voice cracking under the weight of the truth. “We endangered you.”

“You and the soldier are one.”

Though her tone was gentle and her demeanor warm, her words ignited a storm within Bucky. He wanted to deny her claim. But to his surprise, he found himself agreeing. “Yes, we are,” he admitted, noting the subtle shift in Y/N’s expression as she silently acknowledged his confession. “He and I are both the villains in your story.”

Y/N shook her head, silently dissenting, but her silence only amplified the turmoil raging within Bucky's mind. Insidious, his thoughts whispered. Monsters like us only bring harm. Our hands are stained with the blood of our victims.

“This is my truth,” Bucky declared, the monotony of his voice betraying the fray within. “The world knows the atrocities I’ve committed. I remember every one of them. Including the ones involving you.”

“James, listen to me,” Y/N urged.

“Your lies once drowned out my admissions. But after what happened to you, even you can’t ignore the dangers lurking within me.”

“Who you are is subjective!” Y/N defended vehemently. “No one sees the other in the same light. You asked me who you were, and you’re not allowing me the decency to explain what you are to me.”

“I shouldn’t mean anything to you!”

“Well, it’s too bad you mean to me more than you’ve accounted for!”

Bucky was beginning to grow frustrated. Nothingness, the reminder swirled in his mind. You mean nothing to her. To anyone. Not even to yourself. The jarring reminder pricked at his sanity, forcing him to lose his grip.

He refused to continue this conversation, finding it a waste of energy and effort. Wordlessly, he turned his back to her, ready to be consumed by his ear-splitting thoughts in his desolate chambers. But something else flared within him, something both docile and menacing.

Y/N had caught his metal arm, her heated touch seeping through the advanced neural simulators. But there was a turning point; a shift where her touch transformed from winsome and appeasing to tumultuous and thundering.

Bucky bellowed, uncaring whether Steve or Natasha would burst into the room.

He rounded on Y/N, his metal arm pinning her wrist above her head. A gasp escaped her parted lips, hitting Bucky in his face and punching him in his gut. “Hurt,” he articulated his thoughts aloud, saliva dripping from his chin. Metal pierced deeper into Y/N’s skin.

His ears acutely picked up the cacophony of noises surrounding him—from the loud beeping of her heart monitor to Steve and Natasha’s sudden interference.

“Look at me!” Bucky demanded, his electric blue eyes locking onto Y/N’s. Though he was tormented by his madness, he pressed on, instilling Y/N with dread. “See what cannot be undone. I am the Winter Soldier. A menace, a lethal weapon, Hydra’s enforcer. I am not your hero in metal armor or your misguided redemption project. You can’t fool me or anyone into believing there’s a good side to me. There isn’t.”

“What if it were me?” The question hit Bucky like a freight car, rendering him immobile and halting his thoughts. Y/N’s eyes brimmed with tears that trailed down her cheeks to her lips. “What if it were me?” she asked again, her voice faltering.

Bucky hadn’t noticed his grip on her had slackened until he asked, “What if you were what?”

“What if I was the villain?” She refrained from saying anything more, her silence bathing the entire room. Bucky picked up on Steve and Natasha’s bated breaths. They all remained silent, anticipating the implication behind Y/N’s words. “What if Hydra had used me? Manipulated my powers into hurting you and—”

“Don’t—”

“You have spent the better part of this hour, no, these three days, punishing yourself for something that was beyond your control! You didn’t choose to hurt me.”

“I could have fought it!”

“And you did! You fought tooth and nail till the last second, James. Or else you wouldn’t have saved my life. When your choices were restored, you chose me.”

“At what cost?” Bucky argued, his voice laced with frustration. “You survived today. But what about tomorrow or the day after? What will happen to you then when I fail to control myself?”

“I can ask you the same thing,” Y/N countered, indignance flaring in her tone. Bucky shook his head, the unwillingness to listen explicitly drawn on his face. “What if they didn’t restrain my powers and had exploited them instead? I’ve vowed to never force my powers on you. Even now, when I want to help you, I refuse to use them without your consent. But what if I had to?”

“You can’t hurt me,” Bucky attested.

"Can't I?" Y/N's voice quivered as tears streamed down her cheeks, her lower lip trembling in tandem. “They replicated my powers, James. That’s how they hijacked your neural frame. That’s how they brought out the Soldat.”

“Just because they replicated your powers doesn’t mean you hurt me.”

Y/N cried out, her breath shaky and feeble, “You don’t get it! They planned this whole charade out because they wanted us to hurt each other somehow. But what if the roles were reversed? What if they manipulated me into directly using my powers against you?”

It was a strange twist of fate to see her engaging in the very behavior she had argued against. Manipulating him. Not through her powers, but through his emotions. And Bucky was angry, furious because she couldn’t hurt him. Deep down, he knew that Y/N could do even the most nefarious things to him and he’d see them as nothing more than a measly scrape, easy to heal from.

“Y/N,” Bucky huffed, his fingers threading through his dark hair. Her name made heat spark within his senses and ice run down his spine. “Stop.”

“Don’t you remember what I told you?” Her tears fell in torrents against her cheeks, glistening under the light of the hospital room. It was impossible to ignore them or the way they made Bucky feel. “You’re my home, James.”

“I’m your demise.”

“You’re my lifeline,” Y/N countered. “You understand me more than anyone ever will. When everyone fears what I can do, you trust that I won’t ever hurt you.”

“You cannot hurt me.”

“Because you don’t give me the power to. Just as I've refrained. You cannot hurt me, James. No matter how much you try, deliberately or inadvertently, you can never hurt me.”

A heavy pause veiled the room. Silently but deafeningly, a wave of uncertainty permeated the air. Bucky didn’t know what to say. He wanted to argue and refute all the words that had been uttered and the nonsense that was spewed. But Y/N was right in a way yet wrong in many others. Her love was blinding, to him and her, pulling them both to the abyss of sanity and forcing them to drift away from it all.

He didn't want to waste time arguing, torn between holding on and letting go. But the tingling sensation he had felt before came back, teetering on the edge of his fingers. He looked down then, sensing a force. His fingers were bathed in silver mist, swirls of light dancing across his metal arm.

“I give you the choice,” Y/N stated, pulling his gaze back to hers. He regarded her with wide and curious eyes like a child born into a vast new world. “Isolation is not retribution. Withdrawal is not the answer. You’re good, James. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have fought back.”

Bucky’s mind was a storm, the conflicting emotions clashing violently. He felt the weight of his past, the horrors he had committed, pressing down on him.

“Y/N—”

“The only way you can hurt me is if you let me go. If you distance yourself and leave me to fend for myself with all these fears and thoughts. I need you, James. I believe in you and the goodness that you hold. You’re not a monster, a villain, or anything remotely close to it.”

“What am I?” Bucky asked, his question vastly different in strength and nature than when he had first voiced it aloud.

The tendrils of light were now wrapped around his waist. Like an angel’s breath, they started tantalizing his senses as they climbed up his arms, imbuing them with serenity. He felt them tug at his heart, almost whispering to it in a language he wasn’t privy to but understood nonetheless.

Y/N shuffled in her bed, kicking the sheets further down her body. She hid her winces well, or maybe she was too focused on closing the distance between her and Bucky to acknowledge them.

Get back, the Soldat ordered. Don’t accept sympathy.

“You are James Buchanan Barnes. A melodramatic centenarian with the most mystifying blue eyes that I both love and cherish. You have a very bad habit of second-guessing your actions and striving for perfection in everything that you do because you think that you have something to compensate for when you don’t. Love is given; trust is earned. And I grant you both of them because I know that even in the middle of the tempest, you will never drift too far away from the shore.”

“Y/N. I’m not…” Bucky began, but the words faltered. He wanted to argue, to push her away for her own good, but her light was too strong, too compelling.

“You’re not what?” she asked softly, her eyes searching his. “Not worthy? Not good enough? Because you are, James. You’re more than enough.”

Her words cut through his defenses, leaving him vulnerable and exposed. The Soldat within him snarled in defiance, but Bucky’s heart ached with a different truth. He was tired of fighting, tired of pushing away the one person who saw him for who he truly was.

“I can’t allow myself to hurt you again,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

“You won’t,” she replied with unwavering conviction. “Not if you stay. Not if you let me in.”

The silver mist enveloped him completely now, soothing the chaos inside. Bucky felt a strange sense of peace wash over him. He took a hesitant step closer to Y/N, then another, until he was right beside her bed.

Y/N reached out, her hand trembling slightly, and touched his cheek. His thoughts quieted at her touch, a tranquil sensation rushing through his mind. It was quaint like a mother’s lullaby and soft like a child’s laugh reverberating in bustling boulevards.

Those silver tendrils caressed his consciousness, seeping through the dark cracks and painting them with a kaleidoscope of colors. The anxiety in him relented, preening at the feel of Y/N in his mind. Even the Soldat bowed his head, snarls and whimpers shushed and eased by the delicate hum of her magic. He heard her voice, whispered promises and beloved attestations, following them as he strolled through forgotten avenues that he had tried to repress.

And there at the precipice, basked in stardust and moonglow, stood Y/N. Her skin was flawless, silky, and luminous with no trace of the unforgiving scars he had inflicted on her. Her pink lips were upturned, a wistful smile decorating her ethereal features. “Come home,” she called for him, like a siren luring a sailor in the tempest, a shooting star carrying a wish across the skies.

“You’re my home,” Bucky swore reverently, worshipping her after God, swearing his devotion and fidelity.

Fingers interlaced with hers, he watched the silver twirl happily against the gold of his metal plates. The colors contrasting yet befitting, something that reflected them in a bejeweled portrait of understanding and individuality. He tightened his hold on her hand, allowing her magic to seep through his veins. His eyes closed, a blinding light casting over him, embracing him with the strength of a thousand twilights.

When his eyes opened, the silver hadn’t waned. Not in Y/N’s wide eyes nor the remnants on his hands and certainly not in his own gaze.

“Angel,” the word slipped past his lips, wistful and solemn.

Y/N’s silver orbs swiftly regained their normal color. Though no trace of her magic remained, her eyes didn’t lose their natural luster. Her gaze rekindled a comforting warmth as she greeted him, “Welcome home, James.”

Truth, his mind preened. He broke down, fingers raking through Y/N’s hair, lips pressing kisses across her face.

Y/N was his only truth. Her soul the sanctuary he could never—would never forsake.

I know it's been a long while since I updated this story, but I'd like to thank everyone who stuck around this far! It's been hard sitting down, pulling out my laptop, and writing just for fun... to bring those characters and these story arcs to life. But I'm glad Bucky and Angel's story found a befitting and dulcet end.

Check out my Writing Celebration to request your thoughts and ideas, experience fun little writing challenges, and get to know the blog!

My next Tumblr focus will exclusively be on Varicolored Schemes, a mafia!Steve Rogers x Reader series for anyone interested in seeing a new, dangerous side to Captain America! I might take on a few requests or release a few one-shots if motivation permits it, but this series will receive the most of my attention.

Happy reading, witchlings. Enjoy the start/rest of your weekend🩵🦋

All-Works Taglist: @xxrougefangxx

Bucky Barnes Taglist: @ye0nvibezzn @justafangir1

Series Taglist: @msoldier @kandis-mom @nobodycanknoww

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #winter soldier!bucky #winter soldier relapse #winter soldier x y/n #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes angst

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purlty23 · 23 hours

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Secrets - Copia x Rain ficlet

Rating: M for mature and M for murder ghoul

CW: Blood, gore, fear, angst, implications of other ghouls being sent back to the Pit

Word count: under 400

Synopsis: Copia accidentally bears witness to the tail end of a violent lapse of control. Before he's even Papa, he has a chance to prove his loyalty to his pack.

-----------‐------------- 🦇🦇🦇 -----------------------

“Are you scared?”

Yes. “No.”

A sharp hiss against the shell of Copia's ear punctuated his fuck up. Rain's arms tightened around him from behind. “Don't lie to me… please.”

All power drained from that siren voice in one measly little word. A plea on frantic, blood-soaked lips.

“I can smell it on you.”

The ghoul's voice twisted in a way Copia had never had the honor of hearing before. His heart thudded stupidly inside of his chest. He could imagine himself much like an insect caught up in the water ghoul's long limbs. His thin wings fluttered uselessly in his imagination.

“Cardinal.” Rain breathed out the title.

Copia couldn't smell anything aside from death. It plumed from the ghoul's mouth, fresh enough to taste. The tang of blood echoed off the walls of the dark, secluded alcove. Bits and pieces of what he could only assume used to be a member of his soon-to-be congregation were splayed across the stone floor, blood pooling into every little crevice.

“Do you know what it's like… to feel so hungry? To be so empty?” Rain asked.

The leather of his gloves creaked as his sweaty palms clenched anxiously. The back of his neck felt clammy and sensitive. The melancholic drip to his ghoul's line of questioning made Copia's throat go dry. He shook his head with one sharp jerk.

Claws clicked over each of the buttons on his cassock as Rain's hand moved up. Warm, sticky fingers against Copia's neck had him gasping.

Without any fabric between their skin, he could feel the minute tremble in Rain's hand. Sparks of white hair came into view on his left side, where horns soon dug into his shoulder. The shudder he felt was followed by a wet sob.

“Help me.”

“Wh… R… Rain?”

A rasp like a death rattle shook through the demonic form currently pressed to his back. Unable to see, Copia could only feel the way his clothes were growing heavy, wet. Rain wanted it this way. Even at his most dangerous, still so painfully shy. “Don't let her send me back.”

Stern eyes and a warning played through Copia's head.

'Do not let things get out of hand.'

His hand met those soft white curls, now stained pink throughout. The way his touch was leaned into before it even landed gave him enough confidence to speak, even if still short of breath.

They would both have Hell to pay if anyone found out. If.

“Our little secret, Rainbow. Let us... let's get this cleaned before anyone sees."

#the band ghost #fanfiction #fanfic #copia x rain #rain x copia #cw gore #cw blood

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isuckatwritingsobenice · 2 days

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HELLO I HAVE ARRIVED WITH MY REQUEST! HERE I GO!

I’ve been kinda thinking about this one recently and I don’t think this will be a “X Reader” thing but I wanna know how Alastor’s Mother found out that he had died, also including that she found out that he was a serial killer, I feel like she would be devastated but I feel like she’s the type of mother to still love her son even though he had killed people, so to put this together what was her reaction when alastor died / killed people? what did she do?

Thank you! I hope this isn’t to confusing, feel free to decline this request if it’s to much but just DM me if you do so anyways so I know, 谢谢 (:

I love this question because I’ve thought and read about it so many times, so im glad to finally be sharing this with people!! I kind of always felt like Alastor’s mother would die before him, so he wouldn’t have to face her, but in the case scenario that he did, I think it’d be a bit hectic.

Reacting to The News of His Death

Alastor’s mother would receive the news of his death first. The initial reaction would likely be one of profound shock and grief. She might be at home, going about her daily routine, when a knock on the door interrupts her. A police officer or a neighbor might deliver the tragic news.

Immediate Grief: She would be devastated, overwhelmed by the sudden loss of her son. The house would fill with her cries of sorrow, the sound of breaking glass as she drops whatever she was holding in shock.

Denial and Disbelief: In the following hours and days, she might experience disbelief, clinging to the hope that there was a mistake, that Alastor was still alive somewhere.

Then there’s Learning About His Crimes

The revelation of his crimes would come shortly after, perhaps through police investigation or media coverage, either way she’d definitely find out what he did. This could go one of three ways I feel like:

Initial Shock: The first news of his criminal activities would hit her like a second wave of grief. The realization that her son led a double life as a serial killer would be almost incomprehensible.

Denial: She might refuse to believe it at first, convinced that there was a mistake, that her son was being falsely accused.

Acceptance and Sorrow: As evidence mounts, she would have no choice but to accept the truth. The acceptance would bring a different kind of sorrow—a mourning not just for his death, but for the loss of the son she thought she knew.

Then there’s the factor that I feel like everyone thinks about the most, especially since Alastor is a momma’s boy: A Mother’s Unconditional Love

Despite the horrific nature of his crimes, her love for him would remain. This love would be complex and fraught with internal conflict and a lot of questions on her end. This could be rough for her, and though from what I’ve read she seems to be a kind hearted woman, I feel like she’d feel like she’s partially to blame for it.

Remembering the Good: She would cling to memories of Alastor as a child—the sweet moments, the times he showed kindness and affection. These memories would provide some solace, even as she grapples with his dark side.

Rationalizing: She might try to rationalize his actions, looking for explanations in his past, in their family history, or in his personality. This could be a way to make sense of the senseless. She would feel like this is because of his father’s absence, or her lack of parenting skills and how she feels like she could’ve been a better mother to him. That maybe she went wrong somewhere and that this isn’t his fault but her’s.

Secret Support: Even though she couldn’t condone his actions, she might secretly still feel protective of his memory, hoping to shield his name from complete disgrace. He is still her son, and though he’s done horrible things in her mind he’s never been a violent man.

Coping and Moving Forward

In the aftermath, Alastor’s mother would have to find a way to move forward, bearing the heavy burden of his legacy. I feel like this would affect her day to day life. People would stare at her awkwardly, she’d have the reputation of birthing a monster, and would most likely be shunned out from society. Or people would feel bad for her for having a ‘sick’ child and never knowing, or just feeling so awful for her and pitting her because she’s related to such a ‘monster’.

Private Mourning: Her grief would be largely private, as she might face ostracism from the community or even her own family.

Visiting His Grave: She would likely visit his grave regularly, talking to him as if he could hear her, seeking some form of closure.

Acts of Redemption: She might engage in charitable acts or community service, trying to bring some light into the world to counteract the darkness of his actions. This could be her way of coping with the guilt and sadness.

#hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin demon #alastor #hazbin hotel #isuckatwritingsobenice

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leafryoworks · 1 day

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I'm going to tell you what your favourite character in the amazing digital carnival says about you .

Please note that this isn't serious and I'm just want this to be silly . I might overdone in a few segments . Carnival au belongs to @sm-baby .

Caine : Autistic creature . You're probably afraid of being underachieved by people younger than you and you try so hard to not let it show . You tend to crave company but your differences also make you a tad left out by others . Still you got a special skill that you're sure only you have ! ...right ? Don't worry because while it may seem dark right know , the sun will come up and maybe the friends you need will come and find you .

Pomni : The most girlfailure . You tend to try to have your sh-uhm , responsibilities and thoughts pulled together to be a functioning adult but not all things probably pulled off succesfully . Still it's the thought that matters and the worst thing you could do is not try at all . Do that thing you wanted , you never know what might happen .

Queenie : You got underlying mommy issues . She gives you the classic wine aunt you never get to experience . There are things that you couldn't control , you might say it collars you down to your place . But...remember the loved ones by your side . They may not be able to offer the freedom you seek and...they may not be the best people they are right know but the worst thing you could do is abandon the ones that cared about you .

Kinger : Silly and a bit kooky . Trauma changes who you are and there are moments you're not at the best headspace . You probably seek entertainment to lose your sense of reality and not face the sadness and tragedy knowing it would rock your world in the worst case . You need someone to hold your hand , to give you company...eventhough you know subconciously that it's not real .

Jax : The artist who lost his motivation . You're a bit curious on how things tend to work and likes seeing the colour red on paper . The reason I only draw something so violent on paper was to let my anger out and you know what I'm trying to say connecting to this segment . And yet we all know that anger is just overwhelming sadness that you don't know how to let out . We all got problems and things that aren't aligned with others regarding in coping mechanisms . And yet...eventhough you might say you don't need them , who are you lying to ?

Ragatha : Mommy issues ! Abandoment issues ! You can't florish under pressure and negativety or else your heart will ached and cause you to not breathe . That's why you try to make things more easier for others so when they're happy , you're happy . If they're sad , you're sad . Literally . You hold on to your beliefs because no way you're wrong eventhough the evidence is right infront of you ! You live to serve for others because if you have no worth , why...did they kept you around ?...sorry , I got overprojecting , hah . The least you could do is actually let people have their say eventhough it's sad . Bottled up emotions are not healthy and might ruin you and the people you care in a long run . There are things you gotta accept eventhough it might go against on your beliefs . You can't control things in a happy get going situation , this ain't a tv show you can script 24/7 .

Gangle : Maladaptive dreamer . You don't know what's real and what's not fake . The people , the friends you make , are they real ? Your family even ? It's blurry as you toed the line and you find it hard to believe that they are real people you interact with eventhough you know it's true . Sometimes you could be doing work and panicked realizing you're in the real world and not in the world you made up in your head . You rather live your live in ecstasy while dreading the reality that awaits you outside . But enough of that , you got your blorbos in your head to keep your company because they're real ! ...but in your head or is there more...?

Zooble : The cool protector . You tend to protect those who are high up in your list and would be the one nodding your head sagely as your bestfriend rambles about their crush . You care about people just not overcaring to Ragatha's extent . People think you're cool and you probably are . And there are things , secrets that you have to hide of a friend from your other friends because...you know it's the best for their situation . Somethings have to be kept under high security for the best of your friends . You know it's for their best of them and you have to carry the burden to keep the people you care safe . That's your job .

Able : Charmer . You worked so hard to learn and understand your loved one's interests and going as far to be an expert on it . Surely when you are a master of it then you guys can talk and hang out more . What's wrong with that ? You just want to understand them a bit more closer but if that's not working then there must be something wrong . Maybe you're not trying enough so you would try harder . Time to hit the books ! There's nothing wrong with you , don't let the voices in your head fool you !

Bubble : He's so silly ! He reminds you of a pet you wanna pampare and put in a play pen .

Kaufmo : You chose the funniest guy in the cast , huh ? Excellent choice . You like jokes , bad ones even told by others because it means they have thought of cheering people up and that really touched your heart . You tend to be silenced eventhough you are right and yet sometimes they don't wanna listen . The other half is that they do listen , they just don't care . Eventhough the world may not look at it's prime for a moment , you knew you have to keep trying to make the best of it eventhough your attempts may not succeed . But it's better trying than not even trying at all , right ?

Alright people , that's a wrap ! Sorry if it may offend some of you so just letting you guys know it's not 100% accurate , okay ? Okay .

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minnielvrr · 2 days

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•.° Maknae's secret °.•

Lee: Innie

Ler: Minho, Seungmin, Hyunjin

Word count: 1k

The unusual peace in the Lino + Maknaes dorm was broken by loud screeches followed by even louder laughs. The voice was only vaguely familiar, and puzzled, Minho and Hyunjin (who had come over the night before for some much needed peace and quiet) cautiously peeked into Innie's room- the source of the screams. The puppy and fox were wrestling furiously on Jeongin’s bed and if not for the adorable smiles on their faces, the two would have thought their youngest kids were actually fighting.

As soon as Innie spotted the two standing in the doorway, he yelled out, successfully managing to shove the lil menace off of him, “Lino hyung, Hyunjin hyung plehease hehehelp.” “ No hyungs help me! He tickled me all morning and now he won't even let me get revenge.” Seungmin pouted at them. The two watched as Minnie squeezed Jeongin's sides, easily getting the upper hand and quickly stuffing his hands in the maknae’s armpits. Innie, shrieked, bucking violently and clawing at Seungmin's forearms as the older just wouldn't stop wiggling his fingers in the most ticklish manner.

The two at the doorway wore fond smiles at Jeongin's rare belly laugh, finding their youngest to be the most endearing thing ever. They promptly walked in, each grabbing one of Jeongin's arms and holding them over his head, stretching his limbs and torso out until the boy could barely move. Jeongin shot them a betrayed look but it only lasted a second as more hands joined in, tickling his hypersensitive neck and ribs, Seungmin still determinedly sticking to his spot. Somehow his laughter got even louder, louder than they'd even heard, until it turned silent.

The thing about their dear maknae was that he'd lose his clever knack for words whenever he got tickled, only managing incoherent little babbles at best. The three stopped to give their cute fox a little break, petting his hair and playfully pinching his bread like cheeks. "Aww where did you hide such a pretty laugh for so long, hmm?" "Ah, I can't believe you betrayed us like this Innie," Hyunjin wiped fake tears from his eyes as he draped himself over Jeongin. The poor maknae struggled under the added weight, groaning in annoyance and trying to push his hyung off of him. A sneaky hand at his neck, however, reminded him of his current predicament, looking up to meet Lino’s eyes, filled with mischief.

“Why meee?” Innie whined, “Seungmin hyung is always tickling everyone but never gets punished for it.” Seungmin looked alarmed as everyone’s attention momentarily turned to him, scrambling to find the right words to plead his case. “This- this isn’t about me. Innie has been hiding his real tickle laugh from all of us. That’s a little unfair don’t you think?” He spluttered, wagging an accusing finger in Jeongin’s direction. “He’s right hyung,” Hyunjin purred, nuzzling his face in Innie’s neck and enjoying the nervous giggles the boy let out as he cringed away from the feeling, "Our little maknae is all grown up now, hes hiding things from us too." Minho sighed dramatically, playing along. "Guess we have a lot to make up for then!"

Minho pounced on the bed, Hyunjin quickly maneuvering himself so that he had Innie's head in his lap and arms held tantalisingly over his head. Minho took his assigned seat at Jeongin's waist and Seungmin, triumphtly sat the younger's ankles, scratching up and down with a single finger for now. Innie absolutely howled with laughter, chest heaving as he tried to twist himself free. Seungmin was being so so mean. Everyone was well aware of how bad of a spot their maknae's feet were, so starting with that was just unfair. "UnFAHAHAHAIR! YOUHUHU CAN'T STAHART WIHITH DEHEHEATH SPOTS."

His protests went unanswered, and another pair of hands traced all sorts of shapes over him tummy. It wasn't too bad so, for now, Innie resorted to throwing his head back and laughing. Seungmin was having a blast, knowing he was the one causing Jeongin to laugh so much, he pulled back the toes of one foot and scratched at the sensitive area. "ARGHH SHIT, NOHOHOHOHAHAHAHA," Jeongin went ballistic, bucking up so hard Minho almost fell off the bed. Somehow managing to free one foot from underneath Seungmin and, in his fit of laughter, ended up kicking Seungmin in the side.

The boy groaned as he scrambled for cover. It didn't hurt that much considering that Innie's strength had been completely sapped by the tickling but the three decided to grant their poor victim a break. It was obvious from the heaving breaths and tear tracks that he needed it. A little anxious at how long it took their baby to recover the three hovered over him, petting his hair and rubbing at his skin to ease the tingles away. Hyunjin gently cradled his face," You okay baby? Did we take it too far? Sorry we should've given you a break earlier love." Regret was thick in his voice as he but his lips in worry. Innie sighed, "I'm good hyung, it was fun. We could- we could keep going if you guys want to." The three kids faces lit up at Jeongin's answer, fawning over how adorably embarrassed their baby looked, all red faced and teary eyed.

Jeongin sighed. He knew he was in for an evening full of laughter and if he just had sported a teeny tiny lee mood because of how easily the others manhandled him and teased him, well, no one needed to know that. Although, judging by the smug look on Minho's an Seungmin's faces, he was busted. Hyunjin, true to his title as leader of paboracha, stayed blissfully ignorant. The four had their fun for quite a long time, bright joyful laughter echoing through the dorms, until the others returned from their schedules and found four bodies in a large cuddle pile on Jeongin's bed, limbs spilling out over the sides. Giggling at the cute sight, Chan covered them with a blanket, kissing them all on their foreheads then headed for the showers.

#kpop tickle #stray kids tickle #kpop tickling #skz tickle #lee jeongin #ler hyunjin #ler minho #ler seungmin #stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #minnielvrr™

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delulustateofmind · 17 hours

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Forged in Fire: A New World

A/n: I know I had a similar series to this called Between Worlds, lately I just haven’t felt like writing it. UNTIL I GOT THIS WONDERFUL, SPLENDID idea. Hope you all like it, it’s a different kind of start which I kind of enjoy better? Makes the plot flow nicer than having to create a bunch of OC characters to get the plot going. Let me know what you think.

Summary: You wake up in a strange place :) Soon to be an Azriel x Reader fic.

Warnings: Mentions of Illness, Mentions of abuse, Mentions of blood. WC: 3.1k

The song of birds chirping outside, the rustling of leaves, and the sound of hushed footsteps around the room awoke you.

With a groan, your bleary eyes fluttered open, greeted by a room unfamiliar. Rubbing your eyes to push past the blurriness, you wondered why your head ached so much. You sat up, taking in the room. The giant chandelier was the kicker—you could never in your lifetime own one of those. Your eyes searched the room for anything familiar, anxiety creeping in your stomach.. A maid kept saying your name, but you ignored her. Your gaze constantly shifted around the room, the green walls were lined at the top with wallpaper depicting foxes playing in the tall grass. The russet brown canopy rested above a bed larger than any you’d ever owned, with silk sheets and a velvet comforter. There was a roaring fireplace in your bedroom.

You weren’t home, in your crappy apartment, anymore.

A maid approached, her brown hair and pale skin accentuated by concerned green eyes. “Miss Y/n? Are you feeling alright?” Her voice was just a whisper, sounding like the autumn wind, and she smelled like spices. Normal people don’t smell like warm ginger and clove.

You climbed out of bed in a sprint. Not caring about the fancy sheets that just fell onto the floor.

Where the hell were you?

You sprinted down halls lined with various fall colors and paintings of people with red hair and golden eyes. People gawked as you ran by, soldiers whispering to each other as they glanced at you. Perhaps it was because you were wearing nothing but pantaloons and a white corset top. You didn’t care; you just wanted to leave. You wanted to be back in your crappy apartment.

Your heart was beating faster than it ever had before, sounding like a war drum, until two strong arms caught you and a man that stood a foot taller than you grabbed your sides.

“Y/n, what are you doing out of bed?” His amber eyes seemed to pierce into you, his face a mix of concern and worry as his gaze constantly shifted from the people walking about the halls back to you. Your heart was pounding, and you were panting from running. Why the hell were these hallways so long? You just stared at him, his honeyed voice repeatedly asking, "What’s going on?”

You were about to respond when a sharp, metallic taste filled your mouth. Your eyes widened in panic as you choked, coughing violently. Your hand flew to your lips, and when you pulled it away, it was smeared with blood.

Normal people don’t cough up blood when they run, do they?

The male's eyes widened in horror as he saw your blood-stained lips and crimson-covered palm. "Shit," he whispered, his voice trembling with urgency. Without a second thought, he scooped you into his arms, his grip tight and desperate.

Fear surged through you as you clung to him, your vision blurring. The strong, steady beat of his heart against your cheek was the only thing grounding you as everything else started to fade. The world spun around you, colors and shapes blending into a dizzying swirl.

"Hold on," he urged, his voice a strained whisper, filled with a mix of fear and determination. You could hear the pounding of footsteps and the frantic murmur of voices as he carried you through the endless hallways.

The last thing you saw before the darkness claimed you was his face, etched with worry, his amber eyes filled with a desperate plea for you to hold on. You tried to focus on his voice, his warmth, but the world spun faster and faster until it all faded to black.

******

You awoke again in the same bed. You were definitely not in Los Angeles anymore, you murmured to yourself. When you tried to sit up, a loud, “Don’t,” caught your attention. The male who had carried you was there, now without his fancy silk-lined coat. His hair was tousled a bit too much as he sat in a chair across the room, drinking a glass of whiskey.

You stared back at him as you hesitated, then eased back into the bed, earning a hum of approval from him as he began to walk over.

“Why were you running around like a heathen?” he sneered, his voice tinged with anger, yet his face was full of concern. “What if Mother or Father saw you? Hm?” He drawled as he walked over to the side of the bed, taking a spot near your legs. “You don’t wake up for three weeks and now you’re running a dead sprint?” His laugh was dark and breathless, laden with worry. “What the hell were you thinking?”

You could see the tension in his posture, the way his hands clenched the edge of the bed. It was as if he was trying to keep his emotions in check, to mask the fear that lurked beneath his harsh words.

“I... I didn’t know where I was,” you admitted, your voice shaky. “I was scared.”

His expression softened slightly, the anger fading into something more like resignation. “You should have stayed in bed,” he said quietly, his tone less harsh now. “You’re not well, Y/n. You need to rest.”

The memory of coughing up blood flashed in your mind, and a shiver ran through you. “Why did I... why did that happen?” you asked, fear creeping into your voice. That had never happened back home. Why now? Why in this place?

He sighed, running a hand through his disheveled red hair. “You’re sick, Y/n, you’ve always been sick. You have a weak heart. Can you… not remember?” His last statement seemed like it was meant more for himself than for you.

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the worry was plain to see. “Just promise me you’ll stay put,” he said, his voice softening further. “I can’t lose you again.”

You hesitated before nodding. “Can… can I ask you a question?” you muttered under your breath. Would he think you were crazy? The man looked awfully pissed off given the circumstances, yet you felt a deep connection with him.

He looked at you, his brows furrowing, but he nodded. You continued, “Who are you? Or rather, where am I?” His eyes softened into what looked like a pang of sadness.

“So you really do have memory loss…” he whispered to himself. “My name is Eris. I am your eldest brother.” His voice quivered, and you could see the pain etched into his features. “We are in our home in the Autumn Court. You remember the Forest House, don’t you?” he whispered.

Your hands trembled as you stared at the intricate designs embedded into the bedding. The Autumn Court? The Forest House? Like from that one hit series, SJM put out. You’d read the books—for crying out loud, who hadn’t? This had to be a terrible dream. Perhaps you were working too late last night. You shouldn’t have eaten that Chinese food you left in the fridge for too long. You looked up to find those russet-colored eyes piercing you, full of worry and concern.

“You don’t know who any of us are, do you?” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “The healers said your condition got worse, that we shouldn’t have brought you with us during the war. The environment would be too much for your heart.” He crept closer, his palm landing gently on your cheek. “Sister, please, I need… I need you to remember me. Okay? Please, try your best. I need you to remember the good within me.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, your own. His words resonated deeply within you, pushing aside your other thoughts of home. There was something achingly familiar about his touch, his voice.

“I’ll try,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’ll try to remember.”

Eris’s eyes softened even more, his thumb brushing away your tears. “Thank you,” he murmured. “That’s all I ask. Now, I am reluctant to leave you, but I have a meeting in Hewn City.”

With both his hands, he cupped your cheeks, his touch gentle yet urgent. “I’m going to give us a better life.”

The way his eyes settled on you with concern, you could tell he didn’t want to leave you here. Given all the context, you had been asleep for three weeks, of course he wouldn’t want to leave. Eris moved away from you, grabbing the glass of water on the nightstand and bring it to your lips. You drank the water, but you could sense something else within it. Within moments you passed out yet again.

That jerk, how dare he drug you to sleep.

******

Eris entered Hewn City a few hours later, his steps heavy with responsibility. As he navigated the bustling streets, his mind raced with thoughts of the meeting ahead. This alliance was crucial, not only for the prosperity of the Autumn Court but also for the future of his family.

Finally arriving at the grand estate, Eris made his way through the ornate corridors until he reached the study, where he found Keir engrossed in paperwork.

“You got me that meeting with your high lord, right?” Eris drawled as he lazily collapsed into the armchair. Today was going to be a long day, he thought. First, his sister had woken up three weeks after passing out due to the cold. Beron, his father, suggested—or rather, forced—all of the children to go to the war camp, to prove a united force. Within days, your condition worsened, and you were bedridden. Eris would never forget that, the way his father would have just let you die there. You were a year younger than Lucien, at least you were Beron’s actual child. He should at least treat you as such.

Of course, Mother cared about you; she had always wanted a daughter. A sickly one? Not so much. Beron always blamed her for how sick you were, claiming it was because she was ‘tainted’ from another High Lord. It only made the abuse worse on the Lady of Autumn.

“They should be here within the hour,” Keir grumbled, pulling Eris from his thoughts. Eris needed this alliance to work, not just so he could be High Lord, but so he could give all of his siblings a better life. Give himself a better life.

Eris sipped on the whiskey in his hand, feeling the familiar burn as it slid down his throat. He despised a lot of things: the biting cold that seemed to seep into his bones, Keir and his pathetic city that revolved around torture and sexist ideals, and above all, his father—enough to make him contemplate murder.

As he sat in the study, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him, Eris couldn't help but feel a simmering anger deep within him. The whiskey provided a temporary reprieve, numbing the edge of his rage, but it was always there, lurking beneath the surface like a dormant volcano waiting to erupt.

He took another sip, the bitterness of the alcohol mingling with the bitterness of his thoughts. With each swallow, he felt a flicker of defiance, a silent vow to defy the oppressive forces that sought to control him and his family.

Eris may have hated many things, but he refused to let that hatred consume him. Instead, he channeled it into determination, a determination to carve out a better future for himself and those he cared about, no matter the cost.

Within the hour, the Inner Circle arrived, though not in its entirety. Eris felt a flicker of relief that Mor was absent; her presence would only complicate matters further. He watched as they took their seats at the table, Feyre’s gaze piercing him with undisguised disgust, joined by similar expressions from Cassian and Azriel. It was natural—they all hated him. But Eris reassured himself that their opinions didn’t matter. All he needed was a powerful alliance.

As the meeting began, Eris steeled himself, his mind focused on the task at hand. He would do whatever it took to secure the support of the Night Court, even if it meant enduring their scorn and disdain. In the end, the only thing that mattered was achieving his goals and ensuring the survival of his family.

“What do you want, Eris?” Rhysand drawled with a look of boredom, his tone laced with skepticism. With a wave of his hand, wine glasses appeared in front of everyone on the table.

Eris took a moment to compose himself, hiding any hint of desperation that threatened to surface. “I need an alliance,” he began, his voice steady and controlled. “I plan on taking the throne soon. And I have a humble request of sorts.”

Rhysand brought the glass of wine to his lips, his violet eyes locked onto Eris’s russet ones without wavering. “My mother could handle herself in the attack, my sister, however—” he paused, his voice cool and measured, “I want protection over her.”

Feyre’s expression, initially one of disgust, morphed into confusion as she glanced at Rhysand, who didn’t return her gaze but instead settled a comforting hand on top of hers.

“I was unaware you had a sister, Eris,” Rhysand remarked, swirling the wine in his glass as he continued to observe Eris with an unreadable expression.

“She’s sick, a weak heart of sorts,” Eris continued, his tone softening slightly as he spoke of his sister. “Along with the resources to take down my father, I would want her protected. Perhaps to stay in the Night Court,” he suggested, his voice carefully measured.

Eris knew he was treading on thin ice, but the prospect of securing protection for his sister was worth the risk. He hoped that by appealing to their sense of compassion and strategic advantage, he could convince the Inner Circle to agree to his request.

Feyre was the first to speak, her tone cautious as she addressed Eris. “You want her protected here? I’m assuming away from Hewn City,” she observed, her gaze shifting briefly to Keir, who remained surprisingly silent during the meeting, apparently unaware that Eris had a sister. “What do we gain from this ‘protection’? It seems like you are requesting a lot, yet you haven’t mentioned what you would give in return.”

Eris understood Feyre’s skepticism. He needed to present a compelling offer if he hoped to secure their assistance. Taking a deep breath, he considered his response carefully, aware that every word mattered.

“I understand your concerns, Feyre,” he began, his voice steady. “In return for your protection over my sister, I am willing to offer valuable resources and information that could aid you in your endeavors. I also pledge my loyalty to the Night Court, and I am prepared to assist in any way I can to further our mutual goals.”

Eris held his breath, waiting for their response, hoping that his offer would be enough to sway them in his favor.

Feyre considered Eris’s words carefully, her expression never faltering as she weighed his offer. After a moment of silence, she spoke, her voice measured yet decisive.

“You offer is intriguing, Eris,” she began, her tone betraying a hint of cautious optimism. “Protection for your sister in exchange for valuable resources and your loyalty could indeed prove beneficial for us. Especially if you are willing to give any information about Autumn court to us.”

Rhysand, who had been observing the exchange in silence, letting his mate take charge, finally spoke. His voice, though commanding, held a hint of intrigue as he addressed Eris. “Indeed, Eris,” he said, his violet eyes glinting with curiosity. “Your offer holds promise. But tell me, how sick is your sister?”

Eris noted the bored expression on Rhysand's face, recognizing the calculated indifference that often masked deeper curiosity. He cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully. "My sister's condition is delicate," he replied, his tone solemn. "Her heart is weak, and she requires constant care and protection."

Rhysand nodded thoughtfully, his gaze flickering to Feyre for a moment before returning to Eris. "Very well," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of finality. "We will discuss the details of your sister's stay in the Night Court further. But for now, let us focus on solidifying our alliance."

The paperwork was written right then and there, the terms of the alliance carefully outlined and agreed upon by both parties. Cassian, the general of the Night Court, seemed skeptical, his sharp eyes darting between Eris and the documents laid out before them. Meanwhile, Rhysand had discreetly spoken to Azriel, instructing him to have his spies gather any information they could find about Eris's sister in the Autumn Court, ensuring that Eris did not overhear the command.

Azriel nodded silently, his expression unreadable as he swiftly winnowed away, disappearing into the shadows to carry out his task.

Left alone with the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court, Eris felt a sense of anticipation mingled with apprehension. This alliance could be the key to securing his family's future, but he knew that their trust was not easily earned. He resolved to tread carefully, mindful of the delicate balance of power that hung in the air.

Eris was just thankful you wouldn’t have to stay in the depths of Hewn City, while he had never been to Velaris. The city was spoken to be a safe place, safe from any enemies. Rhysand had ensured Eris that you would be protected as long as you would not be a threat. The place in which you would be staying was still to be communicated, though it seemed likely that you would be staying with their head healer at her cottage, to ensure your health was taken into consideration. Also, far away from any information that you could possibly overhear from what Eris had understood by the underlying threat.

In four nights, you would be winnowed to the city of Velaris. His sister would be leaving the oppressive reign of Beron, a chance to give you for the first time in your three hundred years of life a chance for freedom- a fresh start.

In four nights, the downfall of Beron would begin.

#acotar #azriel x reader #feyre acotar #rhysand acotar #eris acotar #azriel

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judesmoonbeauty · 2 days

Text

A Briar Dream - Chapitre Deux

Please Note: This is a series. Please read Chapitre Un first. WC: 1,782 CW: Brief mentions of assault and torture Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, Series, Love Bites, Kissing, Tending to wounds, First morning together. Pronouns: She/Her Pronouns Summary: He noticed the strap of her nightgown had slipped from her shoulder, and before placing it back in its proper place, he leaned over he gently bit it. “You’re nothin' but a pain in the ass, ya know that?”.....“That's right, lil' lady. I need specimens for my experiment. See you later.”.......Spiteful and to the point, at least that's how it seemed on the surface, but knowing Jude, he likely wanted her to rest at the castle safely. Dividers: @/natimiles

In the first breath of morning, a pair of warmly woven bodies could be found buried under layers of sheets. Jude's body stirred first as it was accustomed to waking up long before the dawn ever broke. Slowly opening his eyelids, his sight gradually adjusted to the darkness, which finally brought her into his view. He blinked for a moment, recalling the previous night's events, and exhaled in relief that she was safe - for now. Her sweet scent continued to pervade him and the comfortable atmosphere start to lull him once again. This was when a new feeling was born within him – reluctance.

He never had an issue springing from bed no matter how worn out his mind and body were, but for the first time in his life he wanted to linger in this moment and never surrender it. He wrapped his long arms around her waist and pulled her in closer to his body, nuzzling himself into the back of her hair. However, he was soon fighting within himself at how ridiculous he was acting for wanting to stay in bed with her. The fact that his resolve to leave for work had weakened for just a moment caused a wicked grin to creep on his face.

“You'll pay for makin’ me feel like this princess,” he whispered as he kissed the back of her head. After which, he removed the hair covering her neck so he could check the bruising. The violent bruising was now mixed with numerous marks of his love bites from last night; he was disgusted at himself for almost failing to protect her, so he did what he could to carve out that bastard’s marks he left behind. But Jude knew that could only do so much because the mind scars differently from the flesh. Still, she would face worse dangers in the future for being with him, and she accepted it wholeheartedly. So, he promised her something other than, “I’ll always protect you,” though he'd do his best to do so.

“Anyone who touches you, I’ll torture the bastards so slowly that they’ll wish I was strippin' their flesh from their bones instead.”

The back of his forefinger stroked her cheek, and after lighting a lamp, Jude crossed the room towards a desk that held all sorts of medicines, salves, and bandages - things that had become a staple in his life - and now will become one in hers too. He hated that thought so much that he slammed the desk drawer shut to vent his feelings, but this was now her life and there was no way she'd ever escape from him. Her option to be free to live in peace and happiness was gone, but just as that self-righteous Earl is always going on about being honest about one’s desires, Jude decided he was going to be honest with his and keep her by his side. Nothing was going to prevent him from dragging her along for the rest of their lives, no matter how disdainful, bleak or sinful his actions would be. He wanted to be with her, to see how far she could grow, to watch her light move him in ways he never thought possible, and to see those eyes overflow with determination and fearlessness.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he skillfully rubbed the salve on her neck, carefully dressed it with bandages, and then got dressed himself. Strapping on his sword, he started walking for the bedroom door, and that's when another feeling that had been absent in his heart was born – apprehension.

Will you be all right waking up by yourself after you were attacked last night? Would it be so bad to just wait another hour….but what if she doesn’t wake up then?

“Tch, this is stupid,” he says while turning back towards the bed.

He noticed the strap of her nightgown had slipped from her shoulder, and before placing it back in its proper place, he leaned over he gently bit it. “You’re nothin' but a pain in the ass, ya know that?”

“Nnng-Jude?” she groggily called out his name and when Jude saw her smiling happily at him, he pinched her cheek and told her to keep her voice down.

“Nnn….oouch.” Jude snickered at her and then soothed the pinched area with his thumb. Pretty cute when she whines in pain. Ha, I’m gonna make ya cry out more than that just ya wait. Watching her lean her cheek into his palm with a slightly provocative look on her face, Jude commanded her, “Back to bed princess.”

“Work....hard”, she mumbled.

There were many things that he expected you to say to him, but “work hard”, was not one of them. He had half expected her to ask him to stay with her since she was still probably still shaken up from last night, but that’s just who she was - someone who was as resilient as she is bold.

“Just who do ya think you’re talking to? 'Course, I will.”

Jude gently scoffed at her with a sweet smile when she quickly shot up up on her knees, swung her arms around his neck, and kissed him goodbye. Jude was taken by surprise, but the small current of electricity from her soft lips urged his hand to trace the small of her back and return a sweet kiss. The tips of their tongues tickled and teased at the each other for a few moments longer, filling the dimly lit room with sounds of intimate morning greetings, as it would be for many days to come…….

Later that morning she joined the other members of Crown for a lively breakfast, greeting them with an even brighter smile than usual. Everything was as it should be and as every one chatted, she learned that not only had Jude almost kicked Liam’s head in with his foot while hurling abuses at him for putting her in danger, he also threatened William for assisting Liam, and demanded restitution from them both before he left the castle that morning.

Naturally, both men gladly offered to pay Jude for the trouble, Liam with the most regretful countenance, and William with a most unaffected one. Apparently, Jude was so angry that he grabbed William by the collar, which shocked almost everyone who walked in on the scene, but no one dared to intervene.

Alfons laughed as the recounted the entertaining memory to her, “Ahaha, guess how much Liam has to pay Jude?! Up to half of his earnings from both Crown and La Scala for the next six months! And our dear king of Crown has to invest in Jude's business for the next half year as well!”

“It's not very nice of Jude to threaten someone like that......but I can understand his anger.....when something beautiful is almost stolen from you," said Elbert as he finally took a bite of an apple slice that Alfons had been trying to force feed him.

Liam couldn’t take it anymore and decided to throw himself at her feet begging for forgiveness, as he explained his motive to her and berated himself at the same time for making yet another mistake. Looking at him with pity, she gently stroked his head that was laying on her lap.

“It’s….not your fault Liam. You didn’t know he’d do something like that to me, and because of you and William, Jude and I are together again, so thank you.”

Teary rose-colored eyes looked up at her as he was soothed by her words of reassurance, and although he still lamented that Jude probably hated him, the dramatic spectacle over. Although, deep down she quietly wondered if William really had no inkling at all. Roger stood up from the table and slung his gun on his back to leave, “Well, I hope you've learned your lesson. I'm off to go hunting.”

“Hunting?” she asked.

“That's right, lil' lady. I need specimens for my experiment. See you later.”

No sooner had Roger left did Victor come bursting through the door with a basket of aromatic pastries, and crescent smile on his face.

“GOOOD MORNING, my beloved cursed ones!!!! And our lovely Robin too! Now, now Liam none of that! You weren't tortured and you're still alive, so that means that Jude doesn't totally hate you. Now, eat up.”

Liam obeyed Victor with little push back, and was soon back to his whimsical self as he munched on the buttery scones given to him. Asking one of the maids in her elementary version of sign language, she received a copy of the newspaper and began to scan over the financial section. She thought that it would be best to become more knowledgeable about the trends of the market now that she would be working more closely with Jude. Unable to make any sense of it, she gave up and decided to should study up on business first prior trying to understand foreign jargon. Turning her attention to the front page she began to peruse it. After studying her for a bit, William asked if there was anything of interest printed on it, so skimming the front page a little more quickly.

“Hmm, I don't think so. Let's see....there's reconstruction taking place at a nearby park........the amount of stray dogs in London are recently at an all time low.......Hmm. Oh! I almost missed this, “Soon to Open: Deux's Emporia – A Collection of Curiosities, Baubles, and Wonders from Around the World.”

“How exciting! When does it open? We should take a field trip, and then go shopping at Harrods!” Victor's eyes were shining, but soon lost their luster, “Ah, well. That shall have to wait I'm afraid.” He takes a small note card from his breast pocket and gives it to her, and after recognizing Jude's script she quickly read’s it.

“Was late to work ‘cause of ya, Princess. There's a pile of contract renewals that need to be retyped. Start with those, ‘n don't even think ‘bout leavin’ the castle for the time bein’, ‘specially without a Crown member. - Your Beloved Jude Jazza.”

Spiteful and to the point, at least that's how it seemed on the surface, but knowing Jude, he likely wanted her to rest at the castle safely. Although, the contracts are probably payback for delaying him this morning, they're also probably meant to help keep her mind busy. She let out a slight sigh and replied to Victor with a smile.

“It seems you're right. I'm going to be quite busy for the time being.”

[Chapitre Trois] [Master List]

@ichigostellaglynn @mrslelouch @atelierquinn

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#writing #Jude Jazza #ikevil fanfic #Ikevil Jude #Ikevil fanfiction #ikemen villains fanfiction #jude jazza fluff #jude jazza fanfiction

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mushiewrites · 3 days

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Just A Little Bit

well....it's certainly been a minute, hasn't it

but what better way to come back than lee!George week??? If you didn't know (or sleep under a rock), @wishitweresummer is hosting a lee!george week, perfectly named lee!GeorgeSummer (make sure to use that as the hashtag if you contribute)! if you click this link, you can find out all the details about the upcoming week! I got to do my own lee!george week last May and it was the most incredible thing, I honestly am so excited to see what everyone does!

okay, anyway, we're starting off with day 1 - first time!

this idea came to me randomly at 5:30 this morning when I saw a random text post, and it gave me the biggest shot of inspiration, and FINALLY cured my writers block! so much so that I...wrote a pretty long one. ha ha...whoops. aaaanyway, thank you to summer for hosting this awesome week and for cheering me on while you watched me destroy george in the ending, and thank you to my partner in crime @awkwardtickleetoo for listening to me whine about writers block for months, and for supporting me through it all AND reading this before it was posted. couldn't have done this without you both, thank you so much <3

OKAY I promise I'm done rambling, please enjoy the fic! :D

(lee!George / ler!Dream / ler!Sapnap : 4.5K words)

“Dream! Come on, I have to show you something!”

Dream rolled his eyes as Sapnap called him from downstairs for the fifth time in under a minute, chuckling to himself at how impatient he could be. Despite being annoyed, he was also incredibly intrigued, and so he saved the video he had been editing before standing up to go see what all the fuss was about. On his short walk to the end of the hallway, he could hear George squealing and protesting, though he couldn’t make out what was being said.

“What is so important that it couldn’t wait until I finished the video?” Dream called as he reached the thin railing at the top of the steps, clasping his hands around it and leaning forward to find where the two boys were. However, his eyes nearly popped out of his head as he took in the unexpected scene below him.

In the living room was Sapnap, straddling a very squirmy George on the couch. George was screaming and thrashing around while Sapnap was beside himself with laughter through it all. They continued to fight as Dream quickly made his way down the steps, almost losing his balance as he refused to take his eyes off the two as he descended.

“What are you doing-“ Dream’s question was cut off by a squeal from George, who was throwing his body around so violently it looked as if Sapnap was riding a bull.

“DREAM! STOP HIM!”

“Well, what is he-“ Again, Dream’s question was cut off by a scream, this time coming from Sapnap. George had attempted to knee him between the legs, and Sapnap had barely stopped it before it was too late.

“Well now you’re really fucked, aren’t you, George?” Sapnap leaned down close to his face, invading his space with a wide smirk as George’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. He shook his head from side to side frantically, spewing out apologies and practically pleading for his life.

“No! No nohoho no! P-Please! Sapnap, come on!” George pleaded through nervous giggles as he continued to kick and squirm, attempting to escape the smaller boy in any way he could. But Sapnap held his own on George’s waist, clamping his thighs tighter together and giggling triumphantly when it effectively lessened the squirming.

“Can someone just tell me what’s going on?” Dream spoke up awkwardly, now standing at the end of the couch, unsure of what to do. Sapnap and George immediately looked towards the voice, almost as if they forgot the other was there in the first place.

“Oh, right! So, our best buddy Georgie here is- MHF!” George had successfully slapped a hand over Sapnap’s mouth, preventing him from sharing the information with their third party. Sapnap raised an eyebrow down at George, and no more than a second later Sapnap’s hands lowered onto his ribs. The hand over his mouth immediately dropped as George brought his arms to his sides, pressing them tightly against his body as he threw his head back, eyes screwed shut in what seemed to be agony.

“George are you-“

“Oh don’t worry, he’s fine! He just doesn’t want you to find out about his little secret.” Sapnap cut him off once again, causing Dream to run a hand through his messy curls in frustration.

“Shut UP, Snapmap!” George hissed from below Sapnap, articulating the dreaded nickname as he reached both hands up to try and cover his mouth again. Unfortunately for George, Sapnap’s strength was too much for him, and his wrists were scooped up into a tight hold.

“If he doesn’t want me to know, it’s okay!” Dream blurted out quickly, seeing how panicked George was becoming. Sapnap shook his head as he chuckled, looking down at George with wiggling eyebrows before he turned his attention back to the blonde.

“No, it’s nothing like that.” Sapnap started, his chuckles turning into bright giggles as George struggled harder than he had before to break free. The older boy let out a scream, trying to talk over Sapnap, which in turn only made him more keen on exposing him. George continued to scream every time Sapnap attempted to even open his mouth, and finally fed up with the boy, he placed his hand harshly over George’s mouth. When the noise was finally muffled, Sapnap flashed Dream the biggest smile he had ever seen in their time living together.

“The big secret is that our little friend here…” Sapnap raised his eyebrows as his mouth hung open, pausing for dramatic effect to make Dream laugh. “Is extremely, devastatingly, ticklish.”

Dream felt his jaw drop slightly as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, no doubt looking like a lost puppy as his two friends watched his reaction. George whined behind Sapnap’s hand, squealing when Sapnap released his previously held wrist in favor of roughly squeezing his cheek. The pinching hand was quickly slapped away, but Sapnap made sure to keep his other pressed tightly over George’s mouth. Dream made his way over to where they were on the couch, standing over them and shrugging his shoulders at the two.

“…Really? That’s it?” Dream questioned, not understanding what the huge deal was.

“No, like, Dream. You have to see it. It’s kind of insane how ticklish he is.” Sapnap explained, giggling as George began screaming behind his hand again. Dream looked down at George, purely out of curiosity, and was surprised when the brunette immediately turned his head to face the couch cushions. He chewed on his bottom lip as he turned his gaze to Sapnap, questioning the action, but it went ignored.

“I’m serious! You need to see it! No, wait. Actually, you need to experience it. You need to tickle him, Dream!” Sapnap exclaimed, giggling again when George tried to buck his hips up to make Sapnap lose his balance.

“No, come on Sap, I can see he doesn’t like it.” Dream spoke softly, craning his neck slightly as he leaned his body forward to try and get a glimpse of George. This only made him lean into the cushions more, now trapping Sapnap’s hand between his mouth and the couch.

“No no, don’t mind him! He’s fine, Dream! Just scribble your fingers here!” Sapnap poked at George’s lower tummy twice, making George jolt underneath him and causing Dream to jump back at the panicked action.

“Sapnap, no, we don’t have to-“ Dream tried again, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot, watching as George fought for his life underneath the youngest boy. Sapnap finally removed his hand from over George’s mouth, successfully opening the floodgates to his screams and frantic laughter. George kept his forehead pressed against the cushions, leaving room for him to continue yelling as he blindly battled with Sapnap’s hands that were actively trying to render his own useless.

“It’s fine! He loves it!” Sapnap countered through bubbly giggles, his voice growing louder to drown out George’s girlish screams as he finally managed to wrangle the small wrists down against the couch.

Dream crossed his arms and tapped his fingers against his elbows in thought, trying to find the words to make Sapnap stop, when George finally turned his head away from the couch. This left room for the two to finally make eye contact. It was brief, only lasting a few seconds before George turned back towards the couch, but Dream knew immediately what was really going on. It wasn’t that George was uncomfortable like he had initially thought; it wasn’t because he hated it.

Dream was incredibly familiar with George’s tells. Like how his nose would scrunch up whenever he tried a new food he didn’t like. The way George would mess with his hair whenever he got tired, always tangling small strands around his pointer finger without a thought. Dream knew that whenever George would stomp down the steps to steer clear of him until he satisfied his inner hunger-beast.

And he definitely recognized this particular George.

The deep red in his cheeks. The glassy eyes. The continuous whining through his protests that seemed never ending. Dream knew what this really was. George was simply embarrassed.

Realizing this, Dream felt all the tension in his shoulders melt away, finally allowing his arms to drop and a smile to form over his face. He took a step forward, his knees lightly pressing into the seat cushions as he leaned his upper body over George. Already anticipating he would hide further into the couch, Dream brought a hand up to lean on the back of the couch to steady himself and used his free hand to run through George’s hair. Dream’s smile widened when George let out a high pitched whine at the feeling, angry at his body for betraying him as he leaned into the touch.

“Someone’s embarrassed.” Dream stated nonchalantly, sending George into another round of loud protests that had Sapnap in near stitches. Hearing both boys giggle only made George’s blush spread, and he quickly hid his face back into the cushion as his face continued to rise in temperature.

“Awh, is wittle Georgie embawassed?” Sapnap teased, squeezing his wrists a few times playfully to make George struggle against him more. To his surprise, George wasn’t fighting back nearly as hard anymore. Dream was still scratching lightly at his scalp, and the longer it went on the more Sapnap felt George relax beneath him. Slowly, Sapnap released George’s hands, silently observing as the wrists stayed pressed to the couch despite not being held down anymore.

“You’re both idiots.” George mumbled quietly into the fabric, bringing his left hand up to cover his ear and the visible side of his face to hide his own smile. Sapnap reached out to grab onto his wrist, ready to pull it back down, but Dream stopped him before he could. Sapnap met his eyes in confusion, only to have his features soften a few seconds later when he understood the silent agreement Dream was trying to make.

“Oh, come on, George. I can tell you love this. Just let it happen.” Dream suggested, receiving a high pitched growl in response. His hand never wavered from carding through George’s hair as he slowly brought himself down into a kneeling position, therefore freeing up the hand he was using to balance himself against the couch. He brought the hand down the front of the cushion slowly, allowing George time to stop him if he wanted to.

But he didn’t. Just like Dream expected.

“If you need me to stop, just tell me, okay?” George’s nod was almost missed, and would’ve been if Dream hadn’t been watching the blush slowly spread onto his ears. The tips of them were beginning to turn a deep shade of red, and Dream wondered if his cheeks were the same hue. He quickly dispelled the curiosity though, not wanting to make George shy away while in this very vulnerable position.

“Mh mhhm.” Sapnap and Dream exchanged a quick glance to see if the other had caught what George said, but unfortunately neither did. Sapnap sat back on his heels, providing George more space to breathe as Dream did the same. The only touch left on George was the hand steadily scratching, with Dream’s fingertips lightly resting against the seat cushion next to his torso.

“What was that, baby?” Sapnap tried to be as soft as possible, understanding the importance of keeping his tone neutral so as to not spook George.

“My…my hands.”

“What about them?” Dream spoke next, leaning a little closer in to hear the muffled speech.

“I just. I can’t keep them down once you start.” He practically whispered, bringing his other hand up to cover his face completely as he spoke. Dream moved his hand from the couch to rest it against George’s bicep closest to him, rubbing soothingly over the shirt sleeve with his thumb.

“That’s okay, angel, if you need to stop me you can.” He reassured George, carding a little more harshly through his hair as a playful gesture with his gentle words.

“Well…it’s not that I want to. I just…can’t help it.” George let his voice trail off into a whisper, obviously embarrassed about his confession. He quickly tried to twist his body away from the two, but was stopped by Dream’s sudden grip on his arm. The older boy whimpered, allowing himself to be returned to his position on his back, facing the ceiling. His hands were still clamped tightly over his face, a poor attempt at blocking the two from seeing his blush. Dream and Sapnap just about cooed audibly at that, but stopped themselves before they ruined the calm atmosphere they were currently in.

“Do you want me to hold your wrists down for you?” Dream asked. George slowly spread his fingers apart, meeting Dream’s eyes before speaking.

“No, not you! Sapnap!” He barked, closing the gaps in his fingers when the two laughed at his outburst. “You think I want Sapnap to do that to me? He’ll kill me!” Sapnap sat up on his knees with a hand thrown over his heart like he had just been shot, offended by George’s accusation.

“To be fair, he does have a point, Sap.” George giggled quietly at the comment, causing Sapnap to poke timidly into his lower ribs with both pointer fingers. Dream watched as George’s body jerked to the side, amazed at how such a tiny touch could produce such a reaction.

“See! I told you he was bad!” Sapnap playfully slapped Dream’s shoulder when he noticed him looking, further proving the point he was previously attempting to make.

“Shut up!” George screeched from behind his hands, moving them up his face slightly until he was able to lightly grip some of his hair that draped over his forehead. Dream shot one last warning glare Sapnap’s way before he turned back to George, delicately gripping his wrists and moving them slowly towards Sapnap; slow enough that George could stop it if he wanted to.

But again, he didn’t. And again, it was exactly what Dream had expected.

Sapnap took George’s wrists, moving them down until his hands rested against the couch on either side of his thighs. Dream sat up further, crowding a little more into George’s space in order to place both hands on either side of his ribcage. He looked down at George, searching for any sign that he wanted this to stop, that he was uncomfortable, too nervous, but Dream found none. And so, he lifted his hands from the couch and let them touch down onto George’s body, not moving them yet, but resting so he could get used to the feeling at his own pace.

“Fuck!” George cried out when he felt Dream’s fingers press against his lowest set of ribs, throwing himself upwards as his back arched into the sky against his will. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face into the couch again, embarrassed by his own reactions.

“I didn’t even do anything yet, George.” Dream snorted.

“I-I know but, like, I know you’re gonna!” George whined, throwing his head back when Dream poked his cheek to get him to return his head straight so they could see him. He kept his eyes closed, refusing to look at either of them but still obeying Dream’s quiet request anyway.

“It’s alright, Georgie. It’s just a little tickling.” Sapnap teased, vibrating George’s wrists softly into the couch as he spoke. George giggled at that, followed by a deep exhale he didn’t realize he’d been holding in. And after that much needed release, his nerves were finally calming down.

“I know, I know. But it’s still, like..y’know, flustering or whatever.” George grumbled, peeking out of one eye to see what the two were up to. Just as he decided to do that, though, Dream poked gently up his ribs, directly up to the highest ones, stopping there when George shrieked in response.

“Plehehease please please! No!” His laughter was louder now that Dream was focused on such a tiny, hypersensitive spot, unable to hold it in any longer. Sapnap giggled along with George as he made sure to keep the squirmy boy down, leaning forward slightly to put more of his weight into restraining George.

“You’re okay, George. Like Sap said, it’s just a little bit of tickling, right?” It was Dream’s turn to tease him, relishing in the feeling of being the one to make George react like this. He pressed two of his fingers into both sides of his upper ribs, rubbing slightly to see what George would do.

“FUCK NOHOHOHO!” George was howling at that, the sound of heavy thudding coming from behind Sapnap as George drummed his legs against the couch as he thrashed. Dream wished he could whip out his phone and snap a picture of Sapnap, who looked as if he’d just found a goldmine. Technically, it was Dream who found it, but Sapnap’s reaction was just as good as George’s was.

“Are you doing okay?” Dream asked loud enough for George to hear over his own laughter. He saw a slight nod but decided to pause entirely to make sure, not wanting to overwhelm George.

“Yehehes, I’m okay, just…please, you hahave to move!” George pleaded as he let his head lull to the side, breathing heavily through his nose as he recovered from the mini tickle attack. Dream rolled his eyes as he watched George’s chest heave up and down dramatically, still surprised at the intense reactions such little tickling was causing.

“Okay, giggly boy, I hear you loud and clear,” Dream began, lifting his hands up and wiggling his fingers over George’s torso. “How about…here?”

“Wh- NO!” George’s protest came too late as Dream tapped his fingers gently over his lower tummy, kneading gently into it and giggling softly to himself when George squealed in response. He felt his finger catch on the edge of his bellybutton, making George’s laughter jump an octave. Dream ran his fingers over the spot directly under it, back and forth, over and over, until eventually deciding to spider them out towards his hips. Sapnap bounced as George attempted to buck his hips into the air, squealing when Dream’s thumbs found his hip bones and rubbed into them roughly.

“Oh, there’s good, huh?” Dream commented, looking up to Sapnap for confirmation while George was busy laughing under his fingers.

“Definitely a good spot. I like to get there when he’s being annoying.” Sapnap answered, laughing when Dream tweaked his hip bones again, causing George to squeal through his hysterics. He noted the spot in his mind and continued his ticklish journey to the spots that made George laugh the hardest. His squeezing migrated up to his sides, eyes widening when George suddenly twisted his whole body away from Dream. Sapnap used his knee to press into George’s hip, trapping his waist down against the couch so Dream could continue tickling up his sides. Dream tested the spot further, letting his hands dip under George’s shirt to skitter cold fingertips along the warm skin.

“Dohohon’t! Plehease!” George begged as Dream’s fingers continued their venture, making sure to knead over each and every rib as they climbed higher and higher. Sapnap watched in awe as George squeezed his eyes shut tighter, a few stray tears collecting together at the outer corners of his eyes as he continued to laugh himself silly.

“Please? But I have to! You wanted this, remember?” Dream reminded him, using two fingers on each side to act as if his fingers were actually walking up his ribcage. George squirmed from side to side, as much as he could with Sapnap’s full weight practically holding him in place.

“‘H-Hold my hands Sapnap! Dream, don’t tickle me too much pwetty pwease!’” Sapnap mocked, breaking out into his own laughter when George let out what could only be described as a lion cub’s roar trying to cover up Sapnap’s teases.

“Stohop, idiot!” George pleaded through his laughter, kicking harder against the couch as he tried to expel the ticklish energy that was coursing through him.

“Awh, Dweam, I think the pretty kitty is angwy!” Sapnap pretended to pout, sticking his bottom lip out as much as he could as he looked at Dream for fake sympathy. Dream gasped at the comment, feigning surprise at George’s complaints.

“The pretty kitty is angry?” Dream stopped tickling for a moment, removing his hands from under George’s shirt and bringing one up to rest under his chin as he pretended to think over his options. “Well, I think I have just the thing to help with that!”

“Wait, no, nonono!” George cried out, throwing himself forward to try and counteract Sapnap’s weight to knock him off balance, but all he accomplished was giving Sapnap more of a reason to make him suffer.

“You wanna play it like that, baby boy? Okay, I can do that.” Sapnap spoke flatly, stopping his moments for a second before throwing himself further over George, flinging his arms up and over his head, pressing his wrists deep into the cushions as George begged and apologized profusely under him.

“Noho NO! I’m sorry! I’m sohoho sorry!” George tried to talk his way out of his impending doom, but it fell onto deaf ears as Sapnap leaned forward slightly, dragging his wrists up further until George’s arms were practically straight up over his head. The position had him completely stretched out, not only extending the area of his torso, but more importantly, leaving a very vulnerable opening under his arms.

“Sorry won’t cut it, George. We want you to be happy! We can’t have our little kitty angry, now, can we?” Dream spoke over the screaming, ignoring the many apologies and threats that were now being thrown their way. “You leave us no choice, pretty boy.” With that, Dream lunged forward, letting his fingers dance under George’s arms with speed and precision that only a ballerina could possess.

It was an understatement to claim that George lost his mind.

George screamed out, high pitched and desperate as Dream’s fingers made circles under his arms, zoning in on the very centers. His laughter was hysterical, having no choice but to lay there and take whatever tickles Dream decided to make him endure. There was a brief pause, just to let George take in a quick gasp of air, and then Dream was back to the torment.

“Surely it can’t be that bad, George.” Sapnap chortled, watching as the small body below him writhed in ticklish agony. Dream took this opportunity to shove his hands inside of George’s shirt sleeves, using his two pointer fingers to gently scribble at the outer parts of his armpits, watching for every tiny jump and twitch from George as he did.

“Yeah, I’m sure I could be doing something much worse,” Dream smirked, looking up at Sapnap with raised eyebrows as he began to spider all ten of his fingers under George’s arms. “Something like this, right? That’s worse?”

“Wh-wait, wa-AHAHAHAIT! NOHOHO!” George was full on shrieking now, squirming and thrashing and throwing his body every which way to try and escape the torturous feeling. As Dream continued the tickling, George quickly lost his ability to speak, just blurting out little half pleads here and there whenever he got a second to breathe. His head was titled so far back the two thought he might snap it off if he leaned it back any farther. The tears that had been clinging to his eyelashes finally fell, rapidly descending down each side of his cheeks, right over his ears, that were burning hot from all the laughing.

“Okay I think- woah! What- Sapnap!”

Just as Dream had noticed the tears and decided to put an end to George’s torment, Sapnap had other ideas. He let go of George’s wrists, allowing him to fling them down, nearly decapitating Dream in the process, in favor of reaching behind him to squeeze the inner part of George’s thighs. His laughter refused to go any higher, and so it went silent as he pounded his fists against Sapnap’s own thighs.

“Okay, Sap, that’s enough. We’re not trying to kill him!” Dream reached behind Sapnap, quickly putting an end to Sapnap’s vice-like grip on George’s thighs. Sapnap rolled his eyes with an overexaggerated sigh, annoyed that his fun was ruined before it even got started.

“I guess you’re right.” Sapnap pouted again as he climbed off of George, picking up his legs and placing them over his own thighs as Sapnap sat on the couch next to him. He rubbed at the sore muscles, giggling when bubbly laughter exploded from George at the action.

“Y-You were supposed tohoho be nihihice!” George weakly pointed a finger in Dream’s direction, causing the two boys to laugh along with him when he pointed the complete opposite way of Dream, his eyes still closed as he took in quick gasps through the leftover giggles to try and steady his breathing. Dream slid his arms under George’s torso, picking him up and maneuvering a very limp George into his lap as he climbed up onto the couch next to Sapnap. He draped George’s back over his thighs, using his arm as a headrest for George.

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s just hard not to get carried away when I’m tickling someone this cute.” Dream smiled down at him, bringing his thumbs up to rub the tears away from under George’s eyes. A moment later, George’s eyes fluttered open, his hands coming up to rub his knuckles harshly into them as he got used to the light again.

“Yeah, yeah. Remember that when I get you both back, later.” George threatened, giggling up at the two when they exchanged nervous glances. “Yeah, that’s right. And don’t think you both will team up on me again. You’re both too smart for that. You’ll turn on each other, just wait.”

Sapnap and Dream turned towards each other, smiles slowly fading into determined looks. Suddenly George was on his back on the floor as they both scrambled to run out of the living room, trailing each other up the steps, shouting threats and cursing each other as they made their way to their respective rooms, slamming the doors behind them. Not even a second later, George heard his phone vibrating like crazy on the couch cushions above him. He picked up his phone, smirking when he had messages from both boys, detailing each other’s weaknesses and vowing to make amends with him to take the other one down. George giggled to himself, standing up and walking over to where Patches had been sitting on the other end of the couch, snuggling up with her.

He had them exactly where he wanted them.

(you can find this fic on ao3 here!)

#lee!george #ler!dream #ler!sapnap #ahhh this was so much fun to write ): <3 #mushie fics #mcyt tickle #my stuff #lee!GeorgeSummer

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