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apomaro-mellow · 5 months

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Every Baby Needs a Daddy 2

Part 1

Eddie hadn't forgotten about Steve the next day. Far from it. But his early morning thoughts had been occupied with getting up in time and going through his morning routine. It wasn't until he got dressed and put his jacket on, the same one from yesterday, that he was hit with the remnants of Steve's scent. He lifted it to his nose and took a deep breath.

His number was still in the pocket. Would texting him now seem desperate? Eddie took another breath. Fuck appearances. He had to see him again.

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

Steve had been prepared to chalk up last night to a fever dream. Or even if it was somehow real, that Eddie wouldn't call or text. Or even if he did, it wouldn't be until weeks or months later when he remembered the pathetic omega he'd met one rainy night.

And then he checked his phone on his lunch break and saw that he had a few messages. All from an unknown number.

'hey' 'it's me' 'Eddie' 'that guy you met last night?' 'I was thinking that i could maybe take you out to dinner again?'

Steve beamed so hard anyone looking might think he was insane. How cool should he play it? Maybe he should wait until he got off of work. Would it be better to call? By the looks of the texts, Eddie seemed really into him. Would Steve be able to string him along for longer?

The moment the thought passed through it was gone. He had woken up this morning, yearning for Eddie's scent. If he got close to him again, there was no way that he could make him wait.

Steve told him that he was free any time.

It probably came off as desperate but he didn't care. He wanted Eddie and wanted to be wanted by him. He couldn't afford to play it cool.

Three days later, Steve was standing outside of a nice restaurant. Eddie had sent the location and Steve dressed in the best clothes he owned. Thankfully he didn't have much of a reason to wear them, so they looked fresh and he went the extra mile to iron them. It was a nice collared shirt in blue and some khaki pants. A car drove up and Eddie came out of it, tossing the keys to a valet.

Eddie had offered to pick him up from his apartment but Steve refused for some reason. It felt like a dignity thing.

"Hey there, handsome", Eddie grinned. He had a red button down over black slacks and that leather jacket again. Steve needed to bury his face in it, in Eddie.

Steve got part of his wish when Eddie slung an around his waist and led him inside. He refrained from turning his head to dip his nose into it and drown himself in Eddie. They sat down and a waiter was with them right away for their drink orders. The waiter asked about wine as Steve looked at the menu.

"Hmm, whatever's red and sweet, my good man", Eddie said.

"We have a nice Cabernet, if you would like."

Eddie looked like he was about to agree when Steve spoke up. "Eddie, what are you eating?"

The alpha glanced at the menu before pushing air out of his mouth. "Probably a steak, beautiful. I'm actually not all that picky."

"We'll take a Caremenare", Steve said. "One from Bordeaux if you have one, if not anything on from southern France is fine."

Eddie gave Steve an appraising look as the waiter walked off to get their drinks. He let out a low whistle and then Steve stiffened.

"You know your stuff."

"I uh, yeah", Steve cleared his throat. "This seems like a real classy joint. Normally a server will ask what you plan on dining on before giving a wine suggestion."

"Ah, so he thought I was some bum who would've been happy drinking some cooking sherry?"

"Basically." Steve hadn't meant to show off like that. It just came out.

Eddie didn't look put off though. If anything, he looked impressed.

"You know, I'm not hard to please. I'm the type to drink whatever they put in front of me. Unless it's vodka." Eddie stuck his tongue out in disgust.

"I figured a rock star would have more refined tastes", Steve said.

"Oh I think I've got great tastes", Eddie said, licking a canine.

Steve had been looking at the menu, about to ask what he meant he saw the look Eddie was giving him. He quickly snapped the menu back up to cover his face and how warm it felt. Steve was no stranger to blatant flirting. He'd frequently laid it on thick himself. But knowing who Eddie was and how they'd met put an extra layer on it.

Did Eddie like him for himself? Or because he seemed easy? They started talking, the conversation now about traveling. Eddie was telling him of a particularly wild night in Italy and Steve was halfway in thought.

Would he feel different if Eddie was just a normal alpha? Or was it the fact that Eddie knew he was half the way to destitute that made Steve hesitant? Above all, Steve just didn't know if Eddie respected him or if he felt sorry for him. Eddie hadn't ever said anything condescending about him or omegas in general though. He'd never made Steve feel lower than him. He made sure he was comfortable with rides and being paid for before doing so.

Steve remembered what his best friend told him before abandoning him (getting her dream job) across the country. Basically, waste not, want not, but applying it to everything. If Eddie wanted to take him out and buy him meals and drinks, who was Steve to deny him? And if he wanted something sweet after, well Steve wouldn't be upset.

"Wait, you tried sneaking into the catacombs? You know it's a tourist site? You can just get a guide and go in", Steve said.

"Yeah, well Jeff had this bright idea of going in without permission, cause you know, rebellion is totally more metal than just hiring a tour guide, and going at like 2 am because that's the 'best time'", Eddie did air quotes and rolled his eyes. "And also tried to get into more restricted areas."

"Lemme guess, Jeff's a free spirited explorer?"

"I like adventure as much as the next guy, but I also like seeing the sky", Eddie said. "And Gareth's worse. Dude froze solid the moment we got down there. Hell of a time to learn he's got claustrophobia."

Their orders were taken and Eddie watched probably with a bit too much interest as Steve ate. He was enjoying this ritzy fare as much as he did the bar and local restaurant from before. Maybe Steve was the type to fit in anywhere. Eddie wanted to give him more. He'd seen some of the couples around them. People with clearly money to spare and they lavished it on the beauty dining with them. Gilded omegas. Kept omegas.

"I just wanted to, I don't know, take care of him", Eddie had lamented to his band mates while on a Zoom call.

"What, like a puppy?", Grant asked while in the middle of doing laundry.

"No! Yes? Like, ugggh", Eddie ran his hands down his face. "I know how this is gonna sound. Don't judge me."

"Holy shit", Gareth paused in his gaming to look at Eddie's face on one of his screens. "Dudes, I think it's finally happening."

"No fucking way", Jeff said.

Eddie turned around in his chair, trying to turn his back to them but he went to hard and did a 360 instead.

"Eddie, do you wanna be his-"

"Please don't say it out loud", Eddie covered his face with his hands.

"He does", Jeff said. "He wants to be a sugar daddy."

"This guy's gotta be hot. You got pics?", Grant asked.

"No one's that hot", Gareth said. "Chrissy was that hot and you still didn't-"

"Alright, forget I said anything. This is supposed to be a brainstorming sesh", Eddie quickly changed the subject.

Eddie wanted Steve to be his. But he didn't just want to date him. He wanted to spoil him, take him on exotic vacations, show him off, have Steve lie in bed without a care outside of being Eddie's baby.

But he couldn't just ask that, could he? That was probably one aspect of celebrity life Eddie, nor any of the other guys really knew too well. Getting a date? Easy. Getting someone like this? Would Steve even want to do that? He probably had his own goals and aspirations that went beyond being some guy's plaything. God though, Eddie would treat him so right. Steve really wouldn't want for anything.

"So, I probably sound like a broken record at this point, but how does a uh, fine vintage such as yourself find him single?"

"'Fine vintage'? Are you calling me old?", Steve asked with mock offense.

"Well you wear it very nicely", Eddie quipped back.

"For the record, I'm not chronically single. I've just been pretty busy lately. Had a few quick lays, but nothing serious for a while."

"How about somethingggg not serious buuut pretty exclusive?", Eddie asked. He leaned a little closer to Steve and was able to smell the increased interest. Good.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you, me, on a French beach in about a month. You could really show off that wino talent."

Steve snickered and moved a little closer to Eddie. "Well you can start with not calling me a 'wino'. And if you really want me to show off, you'll have to take my to Italy."

Eddie put an arm around Steve. "That can be arranged." He started to kiss his neck and let out a soft growl at the way Steve melted under his lips. His hand found Steve's thigh and gave it a squeeze.

Steve hummed and turned his head to kiss Eddie's cheek, then grabbed his hand and threaded their fingers together. He gave Eddie's lips a rather chaste kiss but then whispered against them.

"Take me to your place."

dont @ me on the wine stuff i literally drank a $7 bottle of vermouth yesterday and enjoyed it clearly i am not an expert.

Part 3

Tag Team

@awkotaco24 @lingeringmirth @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @tartarusknight @velocitytimes2 @mrsjellymunson @trashcanniballecter @marklee-blackmore @dragonmama76 @paintsplatteredandimperfect

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #a/b/o #omegaverse

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theminecraftbee · 24 days

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hi its aussie anon again! uh due to needing sleep i was unfortunately not conscious for quite a bit of the stream today. i do plan on binging a vod or supercut or smth, but what did i miss? thanks <3

sure, i can do my best!

joe hills starts streaming early and is the only pov that never stops the entire day, and is the last to finish streaming as well. he starts by logging in on hermitcraft and also hanging out with the in-person hermits, as well as showing us that they're setting up for hot ones.

people start streaming. most of them log onto hermitcraft, where they reveal a two hour donation incentive where, if you donate 50, they'll put your name on a sign on the server, and if you donate 200, that sign will be glowing and you'll have the whole sign for yourself. between that and a generous donor matching donations, the hermits basically IMMEDIATELY smash past 500k, and almost all the way to 600k. the hermits then scramble to keep up with the signs.

hot ones starts! zedaph, tango, impulse, skizz, grian, jimmy, and iskall are the starting contestants, and i recommend impulse, skizz, iskall, jimmy if he was streaming, or tango as povs for this if you want to see the whole thing. later, pearl tags in for grian and joe tags in for jimmy, both of whom end up giving up early. they are both impressively impervious to the spices, which is very funny as especially zedaph and iskall start dying on the spot.

the hermits get past 650k and all get new nerf guns, these ones like, the terrifying automatic rifle nerf guns you were jealous of the one kid that had, and start an all-out war. someone brings up that the event as a whole (not just the hermits but the entire LAN event) is about to hit one million, so zedaph suits up in "protective gear" and the hermits all murder him in a firing squad in celebration. joe's pov is really good for this (he gave us two angles!), as is scar's or tango's i think.

the hermits go back to placing signs, and scar reads donos and hypes up the auction items. scar's stream is probably best for the end of the auction, and he gives a really sweet and heartfelt speech after the end of it. the auction ends on a bang!

the hermits split off to now all play the zedlypmics! i can't tell you much of what happened for this, this is when i left to go take a walk/do pokemon go community day since i recently got back into that/feed my dog/prepare to road trip tomorrow. however it was the zedlympics, i'm sure it was fun! basically everyone joined in on that one.

finally, joe specifically split off at the very end to play some live physical tcg with pearl (and also hit each other with zedaph's milky boppers from yesterday). after a single game they both admit joe is exhausted, and joe ends the stream, sending us to raid one of his favorite pinball streamers who had, i kid you not, four viewers before the ~6k of us showed up. manu was stunned, and i hope everyone who stuck around enjoys that!

and in the end, we raised well over 800k for gamer's outreach, which is a WILD ACHIEVEMENT!

and... yep, that's the highlights! hopefully that gives you an idea of who you should and shouldn't watch! meanwhile, from yesterday, iskall has already put up a video from his pov of guess the build and bingo on his second channel, so i'd go ahead and suspect iskall's going to continue to put highlights there, for anyone waiting for highlights!

#answered #quackethh

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jellieland · 1 year

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A week or two after the games, Grian will usually check in with the victor.

It's a habit that's probably more for his own benefit than anyone else's. But it is, he thinks, a good habit nonetheless.

After all, as fun as it all is, things can get a bit... intense, towards the end, and it's good for his peace of mind to make sure the last one standing is ok with how things shook out.

Nothing much has ever really come of it before; they're all pretty resilient. He doubts this time’ll be different. Except- well.

Something about it all itches at the back of his mind, and he hasn’t been able to work out why. There was the actual ending, of course, but also Grian may have been whispering in Martyn's ear about how boring that final showdown was turning out to be, and how narratively satisfying it would be if he just betrayed the other two and got it over with, so.

If nothing else, it feels like he's got no reason to break with tradition.

There's just one more concern.

Martyn seems to have made it almost impossible to contact him.

It's not... unheard of, for players to keep to themselves most of the time, especially when it comes to those they don’t share a server with. It seems a little uncharacteristic of Martyn, but the last time Grian saw him outside the games was before they even started, so maybe he does things differently these days.

There are certainly a great many reasons why that could be the case, most of which are perfectly sensible.

But Grian's never been able to resist picking at a puzzle put in front of him, whether the puzzle likes it or not, so he is going to talk to Martyn. And he can just see what happens, and worry about any consequences if and when they appear.

Luckily, he already has a way to do just that.

He doesn't usually need to do this - although it is very funny to startle Scar or Mumbo with it sometimes when they're concentrating. Honestly it's usually less effective than communicators, with how much effort it takes.

But he does have a way. The same way he used to whisper in Martyn's ear very recently, in fact.

He reaches out, away from his home, away from his body, and it feels a little like simultaneously overextending himself, and putting his foot down on a step he thought was flat ground.

That is... not how this usually feels.

It's odd. Rather unnerving.

But it works.

He finds Martyn. Watches the vague shape of him solidify into something more real.

He’s still wearing his red life outfit, for some reason. His eyes are closed. Around his head, the coral curls like a blood-red crown.

“What do you think you're playing at?” Asks Grian.

Martyn blinks his eyes open slowly, looking less confused than Grian would expect for someone hearing a disembodied voice out of nowhere. “Oh good.” He says dryly. “You again.”

He squawks indignantly. “Hey, what's that supposed to mean?”

There is silence for a few seconds.

“...Hey.” Martyn says, and as flippant as he suddenly sounds, he looks as thrown off balance as Grian feels. “Not sure who this is, but I think you might have the wrong number!”

“I think that's unlikely.” He deadpans. “Where are you? I haven't been able to get hold of you.”

“Uh-” There's a short pause as he looks around at wherever he is right now. “Falling into endless nothingness, looks like. Same old, same old, am I right?”

Grian rolls his eyes. “Yeah, ok. Well, I suppose you don't have to tell me.” A part of him makes a note of Martyn’s wording, though. Just in case.

“...Hm. Well, not gonna lie, I do appreciate the change of pace, but I would love to know what exactly you want from me. You know, just on the off chance that you feel like giving me any clues.”

It's at this point that Grian remembers: one of the main reasons this method of communication is good for messing with people is that it makes him sound, um. A little different. And while he can see Martyn, it’s not as if Martyn can see him.

...Best to just pretend that hadn't slipped his mind.

“You do realize this is Grian, right?” He asks, as though it ought to be obvious.

“Riiight, yeah, sure.” Says Martyn. “And I'm also Grian, did you know that?”

“Oh for- what, do you want me to tell you some secret only the two of us would know, or something?”

“Nah.” Says Martyn. “That wouldn't work.”

“Elaborate.” Says Grian, through gritted teeth.

“You know what? I don't think I will!” Replies Martyn brightly.

Grian takes a deep breath in through his nose. “I'm beginning to wonder why I bother.” He grinds out.

Martyn snorts. “Tell me about it.”

There's a short silence.

“But- ok.” He continues. “Just suppose for the sake of argument that you are Grian.”

“...Yes?” Asks Grian warily.

“I have a question for you.”

“...Yeeees?” Asks Grian, even more warily.

The silence stretches for several long moments.

“What's up?” Asks Martyn.

“Yeah ok, this isn’t worth it, I'm leaving now.”

“Wait! No, I'm serious!” Under the amusement, there's a note of something that sounds almost like nervousness in his voice. It's uncharacteristic. Unnerving.

“What are you talking about?” Asks Grian, trying very hard to keep his voice at least mostly free of annoyance.

“Oh, you know! What's going on, what's the deal, what'd you want to talk to me for?” There's a slight hesitation. “You need help or something?”

“I- ok. That's actually sort of relevant. It's really nothing too complicated, Martyn.” He says, grumpily. “All I wanted to do was make sure you're good with what happened at the end of the last game.”

Martyn blinks, and goes very still.

There is a long silence - long enough that Grian starts to feel concerned.

And then Martyn laughs.

It's not a nice laugh.

“Good, huh. You want to know if I’m good with it. That sure is an interesting choice of words.”

“...How so?” He asks, guardedly.

“Grian. Grian, I’m not sure if you remember this, but I won. I won this one, Grian.” Every word he says, however restrained, sounds like it’s had to claw its way out of him. He glares at nothing. “And guess what? It's just like the others. I don’t really care enough for any of it to matter to me, anymore, and that's fine by me.”

Now that's... a lot to unpack. “You- I'm sorry?”

“Well that makes one of us then, doesn't it?” His voice is coated with scorn.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you actually think I’m going to explain myself to you?” He asks, looking half-amused. “You, of all people?”

“Well unfortunately, Martyn, I can’t exactly put Ren on the line, so I’m afraid I’m all you’re going to get.” He snaps, and instantly regrets it when he sees the look in Martyn’s eyes.

There is a short silence.

Grian shifts uncomfortably. He’s not going to apologize, obviously. But. Well. “That... ok, maybe that was a bit much.” He says.

“...Little bit, yeah.”

There is another silence.

After a while, Martyn speaks.

“I would’ve betrayed him too, you know.” He says coolly.

“What, Ren?”

“Yeah. At the drop of a hat. Soon as it was convenient.”

“I mean sure, I suppose?” Says Grian, caught off guard. “You didn’t, though. Did you? When you had the chance.”

“Eh.” He shrugs, as though that’s an irrelevant detail. “It would’ve been more dramatic later. You know how it is.”

...There's no real way he can justify saying no to that, is there? “Yeah.” He says. “I guess I do.”

He tries to picture the King, betrayed. The Hand, triumphant.

“I dunno, though.” He says, thoughtful. “I don’t think you ever could’ve done it, to be honest. Not in the first one. Whatever it was you were planning, it was just never how that story was going to go.”

“That’s not true.” He says it just slightly too fast. “I know that’s not true.”

Grian scoffs. “You know thinking about something isn’t the same as doing it, right?”

“What, no, really?” He rolls his eyes. “You don’t say!”

“What I’m saying,” He lets his voice turn biting, “Is that you’re being stupid.”

Martyn lets out a startled laugh. It’s surprisingly genuine. “Wow. You’re really bad at this, dude.”

Grian bristles. “Well why am I the one who has to do it then? Why don’t you talk to someone else, if you hate talking to me so much?”

“I mean…” He makes an unconvinced noise. “Obvious problems aside, when do you even expect me to do that? We usually have other things to worry about.”

“I don’t know, maybe at literally any point between the games?” He sighs exasperatedly. “There’s no way you’re that busy.”

“Between the games?” Martyn asks incredulously, and Grian suddenly feels as though something dangerous is hovering over their heads, just about to drop. “What do you mean, between the games?”

“I mean between the games! Like- now! What do you think this is, right now, if it’s not between the games?” He snaps.

“This right now?” He looks nonplussed. “I think we’re usually asleep for most of this bit. Or possibly we forget about it. As you can probably imagine, it’s hard to know for sure.”

“Now I know that’s not true.” He says firmly, ignoring the unease trying to creep up on him. “I know I do stuff between games, and I know I don’t just forget about it. That makes no sense.”

“I mean, I don't necessarily mean everything between the games, more just this specifically.” He gestures around at nothing. “That gets more complicated, though. But you- hm.” He looks curious. “That’s interesting. Where even are you, then, at the moment?”

“I’m at home! Which is where I thought everyone else was too!”

Martyn seems to consider this for a few moments, and then he frowns, and then his expression goes blank. “…Oh.” He says. “Yeah. No, that… makes sense, actually. Yeah. You’re probably right.”

“Wha- what do you mean? Right about what?”

“Everyone probably went home. Or, at least, they thought they did. And hey, what’s the difference, when you get right down to it?”

“...Ok, I’m going to ignore the second part for now, I already got past that little existential crisis after Ren and Doc’s whole… thing… in season eight- if you think everyone went home, why are you- what was it you said- ‘falling into endless nothingness’?”

There’s another pause.

“...You’re really gonna make me say it, huh? That seems cruel, even for you.”

“Wait, no, what do you-”

“Where else do you think I would go?” It sounds less like an admission and more like an accusation. “What ‘home’ do you think I have left, Grian?”

“Look.” Snaps Grian, feeling vaguely tricked. “It’s not my fault that you-”

“Yeah, it never is, is it?” He glares into the darkness. “It’s always a tragic inevitability with you, never a choice you’re making. That way you get to stab people in the back and pretend to be sad about it. Best of both worlds, huh?”

Grian splutters for a few seconds. “Why are you being so rude to me??”

“Because you’re you and I’m me.” He smirks. “Don’t know what you expected, honestly.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s hiding behind inevitability now?” Grian retorts, perhaps a trifle vindictively.

“I never said I wasn’t a hypocrite, sometimes. Also, I never said I felt bad about it.” He replies levelly, and all at once, they’re talking about something else.

“You didn’t need to say it.” Snaps Grian. “You might be good at lying but you’re not perfect. I could see in your face that it hurt.”

He narrows his eyes. “It felt good, actually.”

“Wow, good for you.” He says, almost amused suddenly. “You didn’t say I was wrong, though.”

His expression twists into something unreadable. “I know you, Grian. Like recognizes like.” He says, voice low and dangerous. “You’re a liar.”

Grian shrugs, despite the fact that Martyn will not see it. “And you’re a coward. Your point?”

“I don’t need to justify myself to someone who refuses to admit that he could have chosen to be better, if he’d ever wanted to.” He spits out.

“Hey, at least I don’t try and convince myself I’m a monster just because I want to survive.”

That one strikes something tender; he can tell. “Right, yeah, and you’re just a blameless angel and everyone you cut down had it coming, I’m sure.”

“I didn’t say that. But since you bring it up… how many people did you give up your time for, again?” He grins. “Is it less than one? Because I think it is. I think I’ve got you beat there, Martyn.”

“And where did it get you?” He snarls.

“Home, in the end.”

Martyn flinches back as though he’s been struck.

“Did you forget about that part?” Asks Grian.

There’s a long pause.

Martyn fidgets with the end of the banner he wears around his waist, pulling at where the white threads are coming undone. He stares out into the darkness. “Yeah.” He says. “I guess I did.”

The satisfaction of winning the argument feels less potent, suddenly.

“You’re right.” Says Grian, after a while. “I’m really bad at this.”

Martyn laughs quietly. “To be fair, I’m not exactly helping.”

“You’re really not.”

He sighs. “You know pulling the knife out just makes the wound start bleeding again, don’t you? That’s all we’re doing here. That’s all we’re going to do to each other. We’re too alike to do anything else, unless we just don’t do anything. And hey, we’re not great at that either.”

“Hmm.” Says Grian begrudgingly. “I’d say something about inevitability again, but I honestly don’t think you’re wrong.”

“We both just enjoy pushing buttons too much to be particularly good at not pushing them, I guess.” Martyn sounds half-amused, half-resigned.

Grian makes an irritated noise. “Yes, alright, I don’t need another reminder of the whole button debacle.”

There is more silence.

After a while, Grian speaks again. “There’s something I was wondering about, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” Martyn raises an eyebrow.

“What’s the reason?” He asks.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific with that one, mate.”

“‘This is a death match for a reason.’” He says matter-of-factly. “That’s what you said. So- what is it? What’s the reason?”

Martyn blinks, then lets out a short, harsh laugh. “You think I know that?”

“No, not really. That’s why I wondered what you meant when you said it.”

“It- look. I don’t know if you’re expecting philosophy from me, or something. It’s a death game. People die, and it doesn’t have to mean anything. It doesn’t have to be special, it doesn’t have to be honourable, it doesn’t have to be fair. That’s what I meant.” He frowns. “You know that.”

“I do.” He admits.

“Then why ask?” Martyn looks around as though this time, somehow, he might be able to find Grian’s face in the dark.

He doesn’t.

“I just-” Grian sighs. “What do you want?” He asks. “What do you actually want, Martyn?”

The question sits heavy in the darkness between them.

“What do you want me to say?” Martyn asks. He sounds more tired than Grian’s ever heard him.

“I want you to tell the truth.” Grian says. He needs to know. He needs to know.

“Now, Grian.” Says Martyn, voice gently chiding. “Have you met me? You know I can’t do that.”

“Pretend it’s a lie, then.”

Martyn’s grip on the banner he wears tightens, slightly. There is a long, long silence.

“Or how about,” Says Grian, eventually, “You say something, and I won’t know whether it’s a lie or not.”

There is another pause.

Martyn frowns at the red of the fabric in his hands, as though it might offer him something.

As far as Grian can tell, it does not.

He’s just beginning to give up hope of ever getting an answer when Martyn speaks, so softly he almost doesn’t hear it.

“I want it to be warm again.” He says.

It’s quiet.

For a moment – just a moment, no more – Grian remembers bloody, aching fists. He remembers burning heat.

“Well.” He says. “That makes one of us, then. Doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Says Martyn, voice low. “I guess it does.”

There’s another short second of silence before Martyn speaks again, sounding cheerful. “So, suppose I’ll see you in the next one, huh? If that ever happens.” He grins. “Wanna take bets on how hard Scott’ll have to try not to win it? I’m gonna go with very.”

Grian snorts. “I’m not taking that bet. That man is infuriatingly good at surviving.”

“You’re not wrong! You are not wrong.” He gestures into the void. “And don’t even get me started on Timmy’s whole thing, I think we both know how that one’s gonna go. Unless you want to bet against him being gone first next time round?”

“You’re not Scar.” Says Grian. “There’s no way you talk anyone into taking that bet in a million years. Except maybe Timmy.”

“Fair, fair.”

There’s a short pause.

Grian hesitates for a moment before he speaks – almost, but not quite, reluctant. “Why do you keep looking back?” He asks. “There’s nothing left for us there. You know that, right?”

“I mean, let me know when you find a better place to look.” He tilts his head to the side slightly, curious, and frowns. “Do you really never want to go back?”

“No.” Says Grian. “Never.”

Martyn opens his mouth, and then, uncharacteristically, closes it again. “Yeah.” He says. “Me neither.”

Grian is tempted, momentarily, to tell Martyn to take the banner off and let it go. Let the darkness take it. Prove it.

But just like Martyn, he lets it drop.

Mutually assured destruction is a potent thing.

Now all he has to do is the hard part. The part he’s dreading most of all.

The main concern is phrasing it correctly. Making it sound just how he wants it to sound.

After some thought, he thinks he’s found the words he's looking for.

He could always be wrong, though. He’s usually more one for incredible violence than smooth talking.

“Martyn?” He asks cautiously, casually. “Do you want me to help you?”

The expression that crosses Martyn’s face is unreadable.

He processes the question for a few moments, before he answers.

“Nah. I’m good.” He says, voice guarded. “Don’t worry about it.”

And that’s the rub, isn’t it.

Because now Grian has to decide whether he’s going to let Martyn lie to him or not.

Whether he’s going to pass the test that’s been set before him, or not.

...

Grian’s not a monster.

He’s just realistic.

There's nothing he could do, anyway.

“Well.” He says levelly. “Just let me know if that changes.”

(Martyn would do the same to him. It’s not a justification, or an excuse. But he knows it to be true.)

Martyn stares out into the darkness. His eyes are almost, but not quite, resentful. “Sure thing, man. Why wouldn’t I.”

It’s not said like a question, so Grian doesn’t answer it. “Well, you know I can’t stay here forever.”

“I do know that.”

“Any messages you want me to pass on to any of the hermits? I know you haven’t seen Mumbo in a while.” It’s not really a compromise, or a peace offering. Hopefully, however, it’s close enough to one or the other of those to act in their stead.

Martyn closes his eyes. Breathes in. Breathes out. Opens his eyes again. “If you were Grian, then maybe.” His gaze is cold. “But I think this hypothetical has gone on long enough.”

...It’s a lot easier for both of them, if Martyn believes that.

He’s positive Martyn knows that.

Just this once, perhaps he can manage to not look a gift horse in the mouth.

“For what it’s worth,” He says, looking away, “I moved on from the Bad Boys when it got too expensive to keep them alive.”

“It’s not worth a lot.” Says Martyn flatly. “And it would be worth even less coming from Grian.”

Grian sighs. “Alright. Fine. I’ll see you around, Martyn.”

“I know.” Says Martyn. He closes his eyes.

After a few moments, Grian does too.

When he opens them, he’s home.

…

Oh, that doesn’t feel good.

It really doesn't.

He could dwell on this. It wouldn’t be hard. He could drown himself in guilt over what he’s done, or not done, or will not do.

But- well.

Grian never really saw the point in letting someone else drag you down with them.

#once he's sure that the thing he's decided to pretend was not grian is gone #martyn goes back to falling #and wishes he still felt enough grief to be able to cry.#limited life smp #life series #grian #martyn inthelittlewood #my writing #i finally managed to finish this. it took me. a while.#they're narrative foils to the point of absurdity is the thing #they're incredibly similar and also completely different #it's fascinating

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dreamofjoys · 7 months

Text

DAY 2 KINKTOBER 2023

7 min in heaven? More like 7 days inside you!

Main Masterlist + Rules / Next Day of kinktober (3)

A/N: Please read the rules on my kinktober 2023 main masterlist before proceeding. Rule breakers will be blocked.

Characters involved (separated): Malleus draconia(TWST), Wriothlesly(Genshin), Ayato(Genshin), Nanook(HSR), Luo Cha(HSR)

Sypnosis: After getting officially married, you and your husband decided to finally go to your long awaited 7 days honeymoon in a resort at private island specially reserved by your husband! Those 7 days were meant to be fun and relaxing, but why are you so tired by the end of it?

C/W: Fem reader (reader is wearing a sundress), public cockwarming, malleus making his pp bigger(magic?), cursing in nanook's part, groping

BY OPENING THE TAB BELOW, YOU CONSENT TO READ DC/SMUT WRITING + HAVE READ THE RULES

Day 2 Scenario

You and your husband had decided to wake up early on the next day to watch the sunrise while eating the buffet breakfast in the resort's dining lounge. As expected, there was no other guest other than the both of you. The area was quiet with only the chefs busy cooking and a few servers standing by to assist whatever that the both of you need. "You are dismissed, we will call you if we need anything." The servers bowed in respect and retreated to their assigned stations after being instructed by your husband. You eyed at the desserts hungrily, mind already planning on what you will be eating. Admiring the sunrise while eating breakfast with your husband sounds like the most peaceful way to start the morning. However, your husband has some funny ideas in mind, which may not be so peaceful....... "Uh- Mu-must we do this here? At this timing?" You stuttered, trying to shift and stand up from husband's lap but he was quick to pull you down, cock slamming back into your pussy. "Mhmm why not? It's not like they will come in and disturb us." "But it's so obvious that we are doing something- AH!" You screeched when your husband jerks his hips up, the tip of his cock deliciously hitting onto your cervix. Your husband had you sitting on his lap, your sundress lifted up just to your waist. Your panties were pulled aside while he unzipped his flyer, freeing his gigantic girth and inserting it inside your cunt. Afraid that someone will catch the both of you, you tried pulling down your dress a little to cover up the indecent act, making it seem like you were purely just sitting on your husband's lap. Just as you were about to scold him, he starts pulling out the innocent card. "Pretty please? Cockwarm me while we enjoy breakfast?"

𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗨𝗦 𝗗𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗜𝗔

Really, who are you to deny the soon-to-be the king of Briar Valley? His pouty lips and puppy dog eyes had you giving up on your resolve and go with his flow. Malleus was obviously happy seeing you give up and stab at your poor food with the fork, probably worried that someone will catch the both of you doing the dirty deed.

"Is my wife worried that someone will catch us?" Malleus nuzzles into your neck while hugging your waist. He inhales your scent, not even bothered by the fact that you didn't respond to him and just focusing on eating. "I'll make this good for you." He says, and you feel his cock growing bigger and bigger inside you, the tip already touching onto your womb and threatening to intrude in while his girth stretches your insides deliciously. You choked back a moan, trying not to attract anyone but it's been proving hard when all you want him do right now is to bend you down and fuck you.

𝗪𝗥𝗜𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗟𝗘𝗦𝗟𝗬

"This is a violation of Fontaine's law-"

"But we are not in Fontaine now, right?" Wriothlesly smirks at your defeated expression, hand reaching out to grab a sliced garlic bread, nudging it on your lips to open and eat it.

"What's so wrong with a couple eating breakfast together? There's no way we will go to jail for this." Wriothlesly diligently feeds you breakfast like a doting husband that he is, but if anything, he likes to tease you the most. He would fuck his cock in whenever you finish chewing the food, catching you off guard and letting a couple slips of moan out.

"H-hey! stop it!"

"Or what?"

"There's people outside!"

"I will just arrest them for looking at us if you are that scared."

𝗞𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗢 𝗔𝗬𝗔𝗧𝗢

You had known for a long time that Ayato is into cockwarming, simply because it was the best way to get intimate with you while he does his paperwork for the Yashiro commission. But still, you did not expect him to do this in public. And once again, you were unable to deny your husband's greedy request.

"Ah, you feel good there." Ayato murmurs, leaning back on the chair while he stares up at the ceiling, getting drunk off at the feeling of his cock being warmed by your pretty walls. He slips a hand under your dress, letting his fingers play with your clit like how he usually does. You moaned, subconsciously spreading your legs wider to give your husband more access to your sex.

"Of course, it is my duty to make my wife feel good too."

The food was left cold for 10 mins.

𝗡𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗢𝗞

"Fuck, you are definitely made for me." Nanook curses, hands gripping onto your inner thighs tightly just to keep you still on his lap. He could feel his head spinning at how tight and warm your walls feel around him. Sure, you were smaller in size as compared to him and he was worried for a moment if his cock alone would destroy your insides(literally) but it seems like he was just overthinking it.

"A-ah, do that again, pretty."

"D-do what?" Your face was flushed in deep red as you chewed on the bread, trying to ignore the fact that you were aroused by his words, and that your pussy just clenched and spasmed around him like crazy.

"You squeezed around me just now, do it again."

𝗟𝗨𝗢 𝗖𝗛𝗔

"This is quite an experience, won't you agree with me, honey?" Luocha comments while spreading his jam on the bread, unaware about your current predicament (or he at least pretends to).

"What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I-im fine." You were not fine at all. Your whole body is literally trembling like a leaf, mind a little fucked by your husband's cock nestling inside you.

He wasn't even doing anything! You clearly objected to this idea, but yet your the one now who seems horny and is desperate for a good fuck in the early morning. Instead of telling Luocha all this, you chose to bite back your tongue and eat your breakfast as planned.

"Mhm, sure." Luocha's large hands reached up to grope on your breast, giving it a few squeeze before returning back to his breakfast.

"I trust that you will tell me when you feel troubled."

Your breath hitches when you realised that he indeed know what you are craving for.

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mochiwrites · 20 days

Note

One of the hermits sits Grian down one day and tries to tell him Scar loves him, and Grian, just as faithful to the bit as he is to his husband, just keeps brushing them off.

But then they tell him everything Scar went through while Grian was missing, things they think Grian might not know or realize. How Scar would leave Hermitcraft for weeks on end to scour Highpixel and any other server they'd ever been to and come home exhausted and distraught. How Scar would beg Doc to build some universe-breaking contraption that could find anyone and get angry when told it wasn't possible. How Scar would cry for hours some days and be an emotionless husk the next.

So yes, they tell Grian, who is now in tears himself, Scar loves you. Just tell him how you feel.

Grian goes straight to Scar and apologizes for the 100th time for doing that to him, and Scar just holds him and tells him that none of that matters, that he's home and safe and that's all Scar needs.

“Scar loves you.”

Grian blinks as he stares at both Impulse and Bdubs, the pair looking at him with uncharacteristically serious expressions. This is… not what he expected when being asked to meet at Bdubs’ monolith. “Well yeah, of course he does.” They’re married. Of course he knows! Not that Impulse and Bdubs are aware of that part, at least. It’s been a very funny bit going between himself and Scar.

“No G,” Bdubs argues, making Grian’s brows furrow, “Scar loves you.”

He knows that.

Impulse glances at Bdubs before sighing quietly. “Scar never mentioned how he was when you went missing, did he?” His voice is soft as he asks, calm and friendly.

Slowly, Grian shakes his head. They had of course spoken at length about how hard it was on both sides — with Grian being pulled apart and molded into the perfect little Watcher, and Scar wondering every night if he’d ever see his husband again. But Scar never seemed to want to talk about it much outside of his nightmares. Those nights were always hard, when Scar would cling to Grian, shaking like a leaf as he feared Grian being taken from him again. That was painful enough, he never wanted to press for more.

Bdubs scoffs, “The guy was a total mess! An absolute wreck without you around!”

Impulse elbows him, muttering a quiet “dude.” He looks back to Grian. “Bdubs isn’t uh, exactly wrong in saying that. Scar really didn’t handle you being gone too well.”

Grian tenses as an uneasy feeling sits in his stomach. Of course he knew that it hadn’t been easy for Scar. He can only imagine how badly Scar handled it, something he has a feeling he won’t have to imagine for much longer. If the sympathetic look Impulse is giving him is anything to go by.

“He tried to keep a brave face for a while, I think that was to keep us from worrying too much. Not that it worked much,” Impulse confesses with a weak chuckle. “He’d leave Hermitcraft at least once or twice a month for days at a time, said he was going to Hypixel to search for you. And every time he’d come home looking more distraught and tired than the last. It was… really hard to watch him break himself down like that.” Impulse frowns, absentmindedly brushing off his pants leg.

Hearing that makes Grian’s heart hurt. ‘Oh Scar…’ He can picture it so clearly, his husband racing all over Hypixel, asking anyone and everyone if they knew about Grian or his whereabouts. Going at it for multiple days. Grian imagines him going back to their apartment, collapsing in their bed. He probably exhausted himself often, doing that. Had he been properly taking care of himself? No… probably not.

“And that’s not even touching the stuff with Doc, either!” Bdubs cuts in, earning Grian’s attention. “Do you know how many times during Hermitcraft meetings he’d beg Doc to make some world breaking machine to find you?!”

Impulse grimaces, “Doc would tell him no every time, and gosh, I’ve never seen him get so angry before.”

Neither has Grian.

His wings drop slightly, chest aching at the thought of how much pain Scar must’ve been in. And for so long…

“Cub and I caught him crying a lot,” Bdubs continues, just a tad softer as the air in the room shifts around. Both he and Impulse seem to pick up on Grian’s reaction, the response. “Sometimes he’d cry for hours, or stare obsessively at his communicator. And the next day it was like we were looking at some shell of him.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “He was flat out emotionless, G. I think I could count the number of times I saw him smile on one hand.”

No, that doesn’t sound right. Scar is a man who never stops smiling. He has a smile that’s capable of lighting up the whole room. It’s hard to picture him now without one. Because it’s Scar. Wonderfully bright and happy Scar. The man Grian loves more than anything in the world. For him to lose that…

Impulse reaches out, setting a hand on Grian’s shoulder. “But he brightened up the moment he saw you again, G. You’re Scar’s world, man. He loves you more than anything. So just… be honest with him. Tell him how you feel, yeah?”

Grian sucks in a rough breath, willing his vision to clear as he meets Impulse’s gaze.

————————————————

It doesn’t take Grian very long to find Scar afterward.

He spots his lovable man right in Main Street of Scarland, humming to himself as he constructs a trolley by some flowerbeds. He looks focused, very much in the zone of building as he rests out a color palette or two.

Grian doesn’t hesitate to interrupt him, dropping down beside him. “Scar,” he gets out, of course startling the man.

Scar jumps with the usual goofy yell of his, hard hat falling off his head and hitting the ground with a resounding thud. He looks over at Grian, shocked expression melting into one of fondness as they lock eyes. “Oh! Well if it isn’t the love of my li— oof!”

He’s cut off as Grian barrels right into him, arms wrapping tight around his torso as he buries his face into Scar’s neck. Scar stumbles backward as he rushes to hug Grian back, pressing him close. “Whoa there. Not that I’m upset about this, but what’s with the sudden hug, lovebird?”

“I’m sorry.” Grian pressed his face further against Scar, wrapped up in the familiar smell of spice and earthy tones. “I’m sorry I — I didn’t know how bad it was I—” he breaks off, squeezing his eyes shut, voice wet and shaking. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you about what?” Scar questions, his voice ever so soft as he moves to cards his fingers through his hair, picking up on his distress.

“How it was for you those years I was missing.” Grian wraps his wings around him on instinct, needing him close. He feels the way the other stiffens, going tense in his hold. “I’m so sorry, Scar.”

Scar shushes him, shaking his head as he presses a kiss against his hair. “You have nothing to apologize for, G,” he murmurs. “You’re here now and safe in my arms. That’s the only thing I care about.” And he means it. He and Grian could go through a thousand different trials, but none of them would matter, so long as Scar could hold him and keep him safe again. “You’re home. You’re here. That’s all I need, everything else is in the past.”

Grian’s breath shakes with a quiet and distressed noise, guilt flooding him. He mumbles a few more apologies; for leaving Scar, for not being there, for leaving him to struggle alone. “I love you so much,” he says, “I love you.”

Scar continues to hold him, kissing him all over. “I love you too, sunshine.”

#mochi speaks #mochi writes #secret husbands au #scarian #hermitshipping #THE AUDIBLE NOISE I MADE WHEN I READ YOUR ASK #WAILING AND SOBBINGGGGGG

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yaksha-lover · 9 months

Text

Wishes of Love

Summary: For Leona’s birthday, you decide to take him out for a date and him something handmade.

Leona Kingscholar x Reader

“I told you, tonight is on me,” you say, tugging him into the restaurant.

The smell of all kinds of delicious grilled meat fills your nose as soon as you enter the restaurant. Based on Leona’s hum of appreciation, you picked the place correctly.

“On you? Have you forgotten I’m a prince? I don’t need anyone to take care of my meals,” he scoffs gently.

“I know you don’t need me to, but I want to anyway. Please? I want to treat you.”

“We’ll see.” Leona rolls his eyes, but it’s mostly just for show.

The server shows you to your table and the two of you take a seat across from each other.

“So, you want to do gifts now or later?”

“Never,” he deadpans.

“Now it is.” You smile at his annoyance, placing a gift bag in front of him. You carried it in from the car, so he’d already known it was coming, but he grumbles about it anyway.

Unwrapping the gift with a wary look, he picks up the dark green scarf you’d crocheted for him. “What the hell is this?”

“A scarf?” You joke, despite the sudden awkwardness you feel. “I made it. I thought you could wear it for your upcoming trip. I know you don’t have many clothes meant for cold weather. You uh- you don’t like it?” you ask. You hadn’t thought he would be jumping with joy, but even this reaction from him was unexpected.

“It’s not that. I told you, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Look, I know it’s probably not of the quality you usually wear, but I thought it could be something special. Sorry, if you really don’t like it I’ll take it back-”

“What, you’re trying to take my gift back now? This is mine,” he says, slipping the scarf around his neck, despite being in the middle of the restaurant and the intense heat of the summer.

“But, Leona-”

“No buts. Keep your grubby herbivore hands off of my scarf.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. Leona never acts straightforward, but you can’t help but enjoy his brand of love.

Despite the strange looks the waiter gives him, Leona refuses to remove the scarf throughout the night. He keeps it snugly wrapped around his neck, one end fashionably thrown behind his back.

The two of you chat lightly throughout the meal, discussing anything and everything. A comfortable silence settles between you as you eat. Leona remains focused on his steak, and you admire how cute he looks so focused on his favourite food.

He speaks suddenly, a few minutes later. “Come with me.”

“What?”

“The trip you mentioned in the north. Falena wants me to go for some diplomatic process, but there’s no reason you can’t come along.”

“I don’t know, Leona…What if your brother is upset? Does he even know you’re seeing someone?”

“Of course he knows about you,” he states bluntly. When he realizes what he’s said, Leona is surprisingly flustered. “I meant, he probably does, I don’t know. Who cares what he thinks?”

“Leona…do you talk about me at home?” you tease him with a cheeky grin.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, ears turned-down.

“You do! You’re so cute,” you laugh.

“Cute?! I’m not cute. You’ll see later tonight, I’m far from the gentle beast you seem to be making me out to be.”

Now it’s your turn to be flustered by his forward words. “Leona, not in public.” You kick him gently under the table.

He snickers at your embarrassment.

You’re tempted to tell the waiter that it’s his birthday so he’ll be forced to suffer the humiliation of having the entire restaurant sing for him, but you know he’ll kill you, so you let him have the last laugh.

In return, he allows you to pay for dinner as you wished. You find out later that he transferred twice the amount of the dinner into your account, but for now you are satisfied at your win. The two of you stand to walk out together, and you hold his hand. Normally he would make a show of complaining about you being clingy, but tonight he releases your hand and wraps his arm around your shoulder instead. It feels safe and warm, being in his arms.

Arriving at the car, he opens the passenger side door for you, motioning for you to get in. The two of you drive home, the radio playing gently in the background. Although the dinner date is technically over, your night with him is only just beginning.

Looking up at the night sky, you silently wish upon a star that you’ll be able to spend many more birthdays with your lion prince.

#happy belated birthday leona 🫶#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #leona x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #leona kingscholar #twst #twisted wonderland

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pinkroseblooms · 3 months

Text

Options

Arajin Tomoshibi/f!Reader/Marito Jin

Summary: A misunderstanding leads Arajin to realizing he's not quite over his crush on you; it's even harder ignoring his own feelings when you also manage to peak his volatile boyfriend's interest. A/N: This takes place in a AU without magic and honki people. Suggestive language, but no smut: part 2 coming soon! Enjoy! wc: 2.3k

“Let Arajin go!”

Marito felt something smack the back of his head, right dead center of his bun; he slowly turns enough to see you holding a ladle high above your head. You flinched, but held the utensil higher. Arajin shrugged off Marito’s arm; his soul might have ascended from his body, seeing you standing in the middle of the street.

“What are you doing?!”

“It’s okay; you start running, I’ll hold this jerk off!” Your knees shake, threatening to buckle under you at the glare Marito is casting your way. “Run!”

“Wa-wait! It’s not what you think!” Arajin sputters, hands raised as he gets between you and Marito. “What are you even doing here? Mom said you were on serving duty today; just go back to the restaurant-”

“Ara-teen, do you know this little beast?” Marito’s lips form a slow, cold smile. “That must be it; otherwise, I sure hope she has a good reason for attacking me so rudely on our date.”

“Date?” You blink, lowering the ladle to your chest. “Arajin, you…know this guy? So, he’s not bullying you?”

About ten minutes prior, you, a server at the Chu Chu Chinese Restaurant, had been tossing a couple of trash bags out in the dumpster when your eyes spied Arajin walking past with someone you didn’t know. The taller boy’s arm was slung over Arajin’s shoulders and he was talking animatedly, but your immediate assumption was that this stranger was shaking down Arajin for money or favors. You didn’t know at the time Marito Jin was in fact a gang leader, but currently you’re apologizing profusely for your “attack”; Arajin and Marito sat across from each other at an empty table as you explained to them what was going through your mind.

“I feel so dumb.” You bow your head in Marito’s direction specifically. “I really am sorry, I jumped to conclusions; I’ve been worried about Arajin having a tough time at school and I guess…I assumed the worst. I’m so sorry, Jin-san.”

“I’ll let it go this time.” Marito says coolly, barely glancing your way. “I wouldn’t normally let you live after such an offense, but for Ara-teen’s sake, I’ll excuse your rudeness.”

Arajin gulped: there’s no way he can tell you Marito is actually not only a juvenile delinquent but a dangerous psycho. No, it’s better you don’t get involved in any of this; Arajin’s known you most of his life. His mother and yours had been friends forever and when your mother passed, you had been all but adopted. You made ends meet working at Chu Chu; you were earnest and hard working but something of a worry wart, at least when it came to Arajin.

“You really don’t have to worry about me,” Arajin tries to sound casual and breezy as you set down two cups of hot tea. “Marito might seem scary but he is a…well, he’s very…he would never, uh…”

Okay, maybe it’s dishonest to try and tell you Marito is a “good” person but Arajin really doesn’t want you to be concerned; if anything, he knows Marito is going to be the first person to throw down on his behalf should anyone even try to hurt him. Now, whether or not Marito will be inflicting any of that pain himself, that’s something Arajin can’t quite say for sure.

“Is your head okay?” You look around Marito’s head; you lightly touch the spot you made contact with. “I can get you some ice.”

“Wow, you are wound up tight.” Marito slaps your hand away, but it’s more of a light swat than anything. “Ara-teen, tell her to calm down and bring us food; it’s bad enough our date got interrupted, I’m starving.” he whined as you left to fetch them some appetizers. “Also, you didn’t ask how my head was…”

“You said it didn’t hurt though,” Arajin grumbles under his breath, blowing on his tea. “I can’t believe this. What on earth was she thinking?”

“Is she your guard dog? A little beast like her couldn’t hurt a fly.” Marito snickers, teeth baring wolfishly. “Don’t tell me she thinks you need her to protect you.”

“It’s more like…she’d step in to help anyone.” Arajin smiles a little himself; he remembers how hard you were shaking, the real fear behind your bold glare. “She’s crazy, that girl.”

“Hey, who are we talking about here?” You come back to their table with two plates loaded up with food. “Arajin, so mean.”

“No, I didn’t mean it how it sounded!” Arajin scrambles to explain himself. “You were really cool back there actually.”

“Aw, come on, you and I both know I’m useless in a fight; that was all a bluff.” You address Marito. “Besides, he’s the one who looks cool. I really like your hair and piercings.”

“Flattery won’t get you on my good side.”

“No, I’m serious.” You tell him with some surprise. “I’m sure you get this a lot, but you could be a model or something; of course, Arajin’s still the cutest. He’s off the charts when it comes to being a cutie pie.”

“Ugh, don’t make fun of me.”

“Come on, no need to be modest in front of your date.” You tease. “He knows what I’m talking about, right Jin-san?”

“I’m an expert.” Marito agrees, fixing Arajin with a knowing look. “You should see how cute he looks when-”

“KNOCK IT OFF!”

“Soooo scary!” Marito cackles. “Is your face red from anger? Or something else?”

“You’re both awful.”

Arajin scoffs but inwardly he’s getting…tingly. It’s almost like both you and Marito are flirting with him, giving him all this attention. He has to remind himself you’re just being nice.

Marito takes a chicken skewer and tears a bite of juicy meat off with a satisfied hum. “Hm, these are different.”

“Oh that one is my recipe.” You grin. “Arajin, do you like it?”

“It’s delicious.”

“Yay!”

Arajin feels his chest swell at the look of pride on your face; honestly he would happily swallow unseasoned glass shards by the spoonful if you asked him to. You were wrong: if anyone’s cute it’s you. God, he’s only been back for a few months; Arajin thought by now you wouldn’t have the same effect on him, especially now he’s seeing someone. To be fair, with Marito he wasn’t exactly given a choice, but still.

“Feed me, Ara-teen!” Marito leans over the table and points to his open mouth. “I want a dumpling.”

“You have hands!”

Arajin’s cheeks flush and he hopes you don’t notice. He uses his chopsticks to take a dumpling and pops it into his mouth, ignoring Marito’s whimper, but hunger wins out and he takes a dumpling for himself.

“Here, don’t forget the sauce.” Arajin slides the bottle over to Marito. “You always eat too fast and forget to use it.”

“Aw, thanks honey~”

“Don’t. Call. Me. That.”

“Yum!” Marito licks his lips eagerly. “These really hit the spot.”

“I hope you like them; I still feel bad about earlier, so I doubled the portion.” You smile sweetly, hands clasped to your chest. “I made them with lots and lots of love, just for you two!”

Arajin almost chokes when your hands form a heart shape; Marito pauses mid bite as you shoot them with a “love beam” and giggle childishly.

“Chu!” You blow them a kiss. “Please let me know if you want anything else; have fun on your date, Arajin-it was nice to meet you, Jin-san.”

Arajin can barely stop himself from staring as the skirt of your uniform flounces around your thighs and your hips sway with every step.

“I see how it is.” Marito leans over the table with a sly smile. “Ara-teen, bad boy. You’re practically family, aren’t ya? Does she know about your little crush? Or were you childhood sweethearts? Don’t say it’s so, I’ll be jealous.”

“No, no, no! We’re barely friends, my mom knew her mom, she’s just…”

But Arajin can tell Marito isn’t buying his excuses; of course he’s thought about you that way.

“I liked her.” Arajin confesses quietly. “She’s cute and she's a good person: I admire her, that's all."

Cute, brave, sweet, and only the most perfect girl and Arajin knows he doesn’t have a chance in hell. Besides, you don’t see him that way; he might as well be your kid brother, the way you fuss and act so protectively.

“I can see it now: two love birds who grew up together, getting married and running this place, a few kids maybe, real domestic. Blegh.” Marito rolls his eyes. “I bet your mom would be thrilled; is she planning the wedding? You're not just playing with me to pass the time, are ya?”

“You know mom likes you; you shocked her maybe, but she thinks you're funny and cool.” Arajin replies with a small smile. "Not that she wouldn't be happy with anyone as long as they treat me well. The only thing that would make the old hag happier is maybe if you and I and-”

“We all got together? You, me, and that little beast?” Marito picks up a dumpling, almost gingerly with his chopsticks, inspecting it with an odd half smile. “Nah, more like…a nervous little kitten who doesn’t know how to use her claws yet. She needs training.”

Arajin watches Marito carefully; he’s been acting off all afternoon. More so, at least.

"You heard what she said: besides, she hates fighting." Arajin remarks, passing Marito the whole plate of skewers. "Go on, these are your favorite right?"

"They're best when you make 'em though." Marito winks, basically salivating as he picks up another stick. "I bet you've had a lot of her cooking, huh?"

"Why do you keep bringing the conversation back to her?" Arajin sighs; his teas gone cold but he's too anxious to call you back over to bring more. "My mom teaches her and she has me for a guinea pig. Actually when she started cooking it was awful."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, always over salted or undercooked or burned, you name it." Arajin recalls various failed dishes he had been assigned to taste test. "She'd do it over and over again though. It was important to her. Mom would tell her food can be an expression of personality; I guess that's why she put so much effort into doing better."

Every time, you would go to him with a hopeful spark in your eyes; even now you're self conscious about how your food tastes. Arajin would say the practice paid off, but considering he would consume poison made with your painstaking care, maybe he's not the one you should've been going to for critiques.

"Her food tastes like her." Marito smacks his lips in satisfaction. "I taste it."

"The saying isn't really literal." Arajin smiles in exasperation. "What are you even tasting?"

Marito leans his chin on his hand; he has a much more subdued expression and the abrupt change on his demeanor isn't lost on Arajin. Marito is being serious.

"Filling warmth."

"Filling...warmth?"

"It's kinda like," Marito drawls. "There's heat in my belly; I already ate so much, I know I shouldn't eat more, but I can't get enough. Don't ya taste it?"

"Yeah, well," Arajin scratches his cheek. "I'd say it's comforting? Something like that."

“So, you do have a crush."

"Marito, lower your voice please!"

"Says the one squealing like a little girl; gotta say, I’m a bit disappointed in you, Ara-teen. All this time and you never tried to claim her? Normally you woulda been kissin' her ass and the ground she walks on, but you're holding back?” Marito asks, almost as if he’s genuinely curious. “You’re so odd: fiery and bold one minute and all shy and timid the next.”

“I mean, we’re…together now, so what does it matter? Come on, it's not funny, Marito. We're on a date but you keep trying to-to goad me into flirting or something.” Arajin glances around, but no one seems to be paying them any mind. “You act like you want me to make a move on her.”

“Maybe I do.”

Arajin watches, gaping as Marito sinks his teeth into the last dumpling; he’s staring towards where you’re speaking with his mother behind the bar counter. You’re nodding, looking fairly serious now, at the ready and eager to help. Arajin can feel his heart fluttering again and he jumps when Marito’s foot slides to tap his own under the table; Arajin looks up but Marito’s eyes are still on you, a strained smile playing on his lips, as if he's trying to not laugh.

Although everything on the table has been devoured already, Arajin wouldn't know it from the hungry way Marito scans your face, the way his tongue darts out as if to savor any trace left of the meal you had brought them. He looks ready to lick the empty plate clean: except, his eyes are still on you.

Arajin squirms in his seat and at the same moment, you seem to have noticed them staring. You wave sweetly, smiling at them; Arajin could dissolve into a puddle as Marito reaches under the table to grasp at his knee.

"Hey, ya know what we oughta do? Let's adopt a kitten."

"What?!" Arajin gasps, words cut off as Marito slides his wandering hand further to his thigh. "Stop teasing, this really, really, isn't funny..."

“I thought you liked when I teased you?" Marito giggles maniacally. "Anyway, she did say with lots and lots of love for us. Or are you so worked up you can't remember?"

"I don't think she meant..I-I couldn't-"

"Please, Ara-teen? Pretty, pretty please?" Marito coos and simpers; there's a hint of pink rising in his pale cheeks. “I wanna play with that kitten.”

#bucchigiri?!#marito jin #arajin tomoshibi #marito x arajin #fem reader #x reader #reader insert #alternate universe #marito x arajin x reader #marito jin x reader #arajin tomoshibi x reader

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enderpearlll · 1 year

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Yandere! Bob Velseb - My Favourite Employee. PT 1

An AU where you’re employed at Grills & Boys and Bob is your boss. That’s it. These are headcanons and I’m writing a second part with more yandere tendencies so… Yeah. Hope you enjoy.

Gender-Neutral reader, but pet names such as “darling” and “sweet pea” are used.

TW/CW: Yandere content, boss/employee dynamic, etc…

• Having recently been let go from a previous job, it was up to you to quickly find another so you could pay the bills. Luckily, you found a local restaurant that was willing to hire as quickly as you applied. It had a fair pay, and decent hours so you decided that working at Grills & Boys would be beneficial.

• When you went in for the interview, you had to talk to the manager; who was pretty well known around town. You were anxious about the whole thing, seeing as you never had much experience in food service. But your new manager Bob Velseb was awfully understanding of your situation, and was kind enough to hear you out.

• Bob was a joy to be around, and he didn’t make you feel pressured at all! He had a southern accent and a hearty laugh which only added to his charming personality, which immediately knocked down any worries you had. Bob was also oddly attentive to your every move, a weird look in his eyes when you would fidget or talk. It’s like he was staring into your soul…

“Thanks, Mr. Velseb—“ “Of course, don’t worry ‘bout anything! And you can call me Bob, no need for formalities.” “O—Oh, okay… Bob.”

• But you ignored it, and thus began training at Grills & Boys. Your new boss Bob was really involved in the process, (even though he would usually rely on another employee to train the new hires) and would be eager to answer any of your questions with a smile. Any mistakes you made were quickly taken care of or swept under the rug by Bob, who constantly reassured you that it was no big deal.

• You were a server, so you spent most of your time helping customers and taking orders. Most of the time you had decent customers, but of course there was certain people that were straight up assholes. Of course Bob wouldn’t let any mistreatment of you slide, and would immediately come to your aide. He would not let you deal with an angry customer if he had anything to say about it.

• He may be a friendly guy but man, when he’s angry it’s a sight to see. You’ve never been on the receiving end of it but you have witnessed unlucky coworkers or angry customers that tried to insult you deal with it. Of course, when everything is done and said Bob is immediately worrying about your well-being. He reassures that he’s not angry at you at all, and is constantly asking if you’re alright.

“I think he was just having a bad day boss, I don’t think that a permanent ban was necessary—“ “Nuh uh, he deserved it either way darlin’. Never really liked him anyways, hah!” “But he was a regular!” “Don’t worry about it pumpkin, how are you doin’? He didn’t hurt ya did he?”

• You quickly realize that you have a lot of privileges that none of your coworkers have. Aka, favouritism at its finest. Bob is constantly joking around with you, making you your favourite food from the menu for lunch everyday, letting you take longer breaks, acts more lax if you make mistakes, letting you take leftovers home, etc… Did you mention the pet names? He calls everyone else by name but you don’t think he’s said your name once.

• Bob feeds you a lot. Like a lot. “Ah, I think I’m good Boss.” “No worries sweet pea, just take ‘em! Don’t want you going hungry on me, okay?”

• It’s surprising to both you and your coworkers. Because to them, Bob had never really gotten close to anyone besides you. To you, a feeling of guilt is constant when you’re pampered while your coworkers suffer with extra work to do (because Bob gives you a really light workload while your coworkers are left behind doing the work YOU were supposed to do).

• You begin to grow close to Bob, despite the writhing feeling of guilt in your guts. He even asks you to help out in the kitchen, to which your coworkers are floored at. “Woah, he NEVER has anyone help him cook! Are you dating or something—?” “NO! Also, What? I thought that was normal, he asks me to do that almost every week!”

• He loved telling you little facts (that were rather morbid, actually and creeped you out more than they interested you) and would pick up on little habits and quirks you had. Bob was really attentive when it came to you, and from this he’s able to tell what you’re thinking or feeling. You’re amazed at first, it’s like he can read your mind. Bob also liked to tease you a lot, just to fluster you.

• It gets to a point where Bob begins to worry about your safety and well-being outside of work. He begins to call you outside of work, often to check up on you. “Hello, Bob? What’s up? Do I have to come in or—?” “Oh, no! I just wanted to check up on you dear! Did you eat yet?”

• Bob begins to crave your presence more than he should, and as a result you receive more hours. More hours than you could handle. You barely do your actual job and end up hanging out in the kitchen with Bob or run errands for him. It’s like he’s distracting you from doing your own job. You work from opening till closing for most of the week, and it takes a toll on your schedule and your personal life.

• Bob is far too nice to decline, and even if you did call in sick or give away your shifts he’d just keep calling you nonstop. You’re stressed with how much hours you have to work, and you always work opening and closing alone with Bob. He’s nice and really easy to work with, but you rarely see your other coworkers anymore.

“Hello? You okay darlin’?! You ain’t hurt or sick ain’t ya!?” “Bob. It’s eight in the morning.” I know, but you were supposed to be here with me, sweet pea...” “Oh, um… I gave my shift to someone else.” “Oh. Okay. Anyways, you sure that you’re okay—?” “Boss.”

• One night when you and Bob were closing he had offered to walk you home, seeing as it was late and all. You were rather reluctant to do so, seeing as he was your boss and you were perfectly capable of making it home safely. But Bob was persistent, and you couldn’t really decline him when the concern on his face was so convincing. You had a friendly conversation, which was mostly Bob prying into your personal life.

• Now, your boss had been oddly sparing with physical affection. He would often place a hand on your back, wrap an arm around your shoulders, etc… It was odd. Now that it was a chilly autumn night and you were visibly freezing, Bob took initiative to help you by offering his coat.

• It was oversized and was practically a cape, but you took it anyways. But the look on his face when you shrugged it on was almost creepy. You watched his eyes light up, and his whole body began to tremble and shake (you’re pretty sure it’s not because of the cold,) with excitement— Was he drooling?!

• Eventually you arrived at home, waving at Bob with an awkward smile on your face. He seemed to glow with glee as you smiled at him, waving back vigorously. As you took off your jacket and shoes, you felt a pit of dread in your stomach. You feel like you’ve made a grave mistake… Ah shit, you forgot to give Bob’s coat back too. Oh well, you’ll deal with everything tomorrow, you’re probably just worried because of stress… Right?

#yandere blog #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere fic #yandere writing #yandere x you #yandere bob velseb #yandere spooky month #bob velseb x reader #bob velseb #spooky month x reader #spooky month #yandere #my favourite employee

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lovezbrownies · 4 months

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Yandere!Chief of Police.

Character: Grim Ludenhart, 32, male, 199 cm/ 6'5 ft.

Pretty mild tbh, not too yandere but there is a future work containing your life with him after where it will be darker hopefully. also my ass did not read through this so whatever mistakes i made please ignore them thanks!

Minors DNI!!

Word count: 1725 words.

Content warning: Lying??, obsession, stalking, abuse of power, age gap (5 years- darling: 27, Grim: 32), implications of criminal activity.

Grim isn’t one for love, even the thought of it was unappealing for a while. Up until he met you. Grim was known to be a stoic man, however stoic he can be he was still extremely approachable. Ironically, Grim doesn’t care for anyone aside from his family. Grim would be less popular if these nobles knew what he actually thought of them, due to his job as Chief of Police, he and the rest of the Board of Chiefs of Xelera are required to attend every event and ball that Queen Nia hosts. Although Grim hates Queen Nia’s events he also likes to attend other events that nobles would host and invite him. He only ever goes there to make sure unnecessarily rich bastards keep up their support of the Police, as well as to maintain a good reputation among the nobles, he needs their support for whenever someone dares threaten his position.

All in all, Grim despises the nobles he’s constantly surrounded by, including the nobles he’d publicly called his friends. Which would be why he found himself here, in a tiny bar, sitting in a tiny booth, his real friends around him, all being middle class “peasants”. He liked it here, he can be the small town boy again with these people. ‘’So he cornered me, and mind you he’s doing all of this over a cake! He goes ‘Well, Grim, good to see you! Uh, you got that cake recipe written down yet?’ Blah blah, this man wouldn’t stop yappin’ i had half a mind to smack him right then and there and tell him my ma made it for me!” A roar of laughter goes off, as the laughing dies down Grim flags down a busser working at the bar. He couldn’t see them all that clearly but who cares, he’s just going to pay and leave after all.

Well, he did care, and so did his buddies as they witnessed Grim become awestruck as he talks with the server, an attractive young thing, possibly mid twenties. “Hello! My name is Y/n, is there anything I can help you with?” They greeted the table with a warm smile, a notepad in hand, waiting to be given orders to fulfill. Grim, awestruck, sat quite for a second before collecting himself when one of the guys he’s sitting next to nudged him. ‘’Ahem, yes, can I pay my bill please? Bill’s name under Greg Hart.” Grim cringed, wishing he hadn’t made up a fake name in this bar, if only he knew there was love around the corner. ‘Ah, giving your fake name to the gorgeous busser, how absolutely romantic!’ Grim chastised himself silently.

You nodded, smile as warm as the summer sun, ‘’Alrighty, I’ll get you your bill, does anyone need anything else however?” Your pretty eyes sadly cut contact with Grim to look at the rest of the table, while Grim had been completely fixated on you, even as you left he couldn’t get his eyes off you, the way your hips move, the way you swiftly move about the tables littered around the bar, the way you lean into the bar counter, the way your head tilts as you presumably ask for a Greg Hart’s check. Grim’s train of thought was caught off as the guy next to him threw their arm around Grim. “Well, looks like Grim isn’t interested in us anymore!” The group laughs heartily and Grim chuckles in embarrassment.

Grim’s been a regular at that particular downtown bar since he’s started Cadet School, which would be now be 14 years ago, as soon as he turned 18 he had applied and gotten accepted. And out of those 14 years, the bar only just started getting better when you started working there. Grim had studied your schedule as well as he could, what shifts you had, whether you were closing or opening on a particular day. He knows everything about you, seriously, when he went to work the next day he managed to find your information after skimming through numerous pictures of other Y/Ns who were not you. Grim isn’t a slacker, so he sent over all of your records to his personal laptop to look at when he gets back home. And oh boy did he look! Grim didn’t leave a single record unread, spending hours going through your school records, your medical records, every job you’ve had, he learnt your family’s history entirely, safe to say he unfortunately missed out on seeing you that day at the bar.

Grim doesn’t like going to the bar during the weekdays because his job has always been top priority, yet here he was, chatting you up on a tuesday, the bar mostly empty as you two talk about everything and anything that comes to mind. At some points you’d get interrupted by another patron requesting help, and when that happens Grim liked to glare at them as hard as he could, eventually most regulars learnt to ask for whatever drink they want at the bar itself. Your boss also tried to lecture you on how you’ve barely been doing your job but one look from Grim had them scurrying away.

He hates the fact you call him ‘’Greg’’, he has been chatting with you for 4 weeks now, although it really is his fault he couldn’t come up with a way to tell you that he gave you a fake name and he is actually a fearsome chief. Don’t get me wrong he has a spectacular reputation, he makes sure to have the people’s best interest at heart, but he doesn’t exactly look friendly, a tired set of lifeless eyes paired with lips that never smile has made people fear meeting him. But that’s okay! You know him now after all, you’ve seen him smile, his eyes still look tired but at least they have light in them now! Maybe you’d be open to him if he told you the truth, maybe you’d love him more if you knew about how much power he has! So, as charmingly as he could, asked if you’d like to come home with him after your shift, you know as friends obviously!

And you, charmed and ever so slowly falling for your favorite regular you agreed to his proposal, what you didn’t expect was finding out your regular was actually a chief, and the Chief of Police no less! You did freak out a little but Gre- Grim had calmed you down, told you he liked you and liked how you acted around him, “You are so cute, why would I keep coming to the bar and talk with you only if I found you disrespectful, hm?” Grim smirked at you, moving from the stove to you, standing to your left he leaned a closer to you, you were seated on his kitchen counter while he was cooking up something, you still weren’t sure what he was making but it was probably good.

You shrug, equally leaning closer to him, “Hm, dunno maybe you wanna eat me or something?” Grim chuckled lightly, a handsome grin on his face as he stared into your eyes, and by heavens was he gorgeous. His gray eyes twinkled under the ambient lights in his kitchen, his eyebags suit him so well it was almost unfair how much they made him even more attractive. “If I wanted to eat you, I would’ve already done so, dear.~” Grim’s voice was soft and smooth, masculine and deep, and oh so alluring. His head tilted slightly to the side, causing his hair to flop as well. You’ve always had this urge to touch his hair, to run your hands through it and put it in various different hairstyles, and so taking your chances you raised your hands up off of the kitchen counter and ran your fingers through his hair. Grim leaned into you, humming he closed his eyes, he seemed so serene like this, and his hair is so soft.

You sat there for a minute or so, just appreciating the man in front of you, still caressing his hair, his eyes closed, it seemed like he was so close to purring like a kitty, “I don’t think I’d mind it if you ate me, at least I’m being eaten by someone I like.” You hummed out quietly, yet this nice moment was cut short by him snapping his eyes open, grabbing the hand caressing his hair he brought it down, a little close to his face, which right now seemed a little pinkier than usual. “Y-you like me?” Your surprise was cut short, you laughed leaning into his shoulder.

“Of course I do! Haven’t you noticed yet? Thought you were smart sir, Chief of Police!” Still leaning into his shoulder you turned your head to have a better look at Grim, and quite frankly seeing him this flustered after watching so many interviews and speeches with Grim being completely expressionless was pure gold. Grim was staring at you, eyes wide but not meeting your own, eyebrows straight up, cheeks pink, and mouth slightly agape. You try to take your hand back so you can caress his hair again, but his grip tightens, seemingly getting out of his trance, Grim collects himself, he looks straight into your eyes, his eyes tender with love, he smiles gingerly, though his cheeks are still pink, it seems he’s gained enough courage to speak now.

Grim shrugged your head off his shoulder, cupping your face with his free hand Grim leaned into you, your foreheads now touching. Grim stares at you, looking deep into your eyes with such love it’s making you feel all types of flustered. “I hope you know I’ve never believed in love at first sight until I saw you, I- Can I kiss you?” Grim’s soft and honeyed words have you completely wrapped around his pinkie, he has now completely captivated your heart. You smile, nodding, mentally begging him to make the move, make you his. Little did you know that the moment he captured your lips onto his own you will forever be his, never being let go, and let’s just hope you don’t find out the things he has done and will do to make sure you stay his.

also bonus image :3

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piscespixiewastaken · 4 months

Note

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Technoblade discovers that Dream is living in the prison

~~ @sixteenth-day-event Prompt: Technoblade discovers that Dream is living in the prison

~~ Technoblade didn’t usually think of his rival as an idiot. Usually. But this had to take the cake.

“So uh, why are you here?” he asked, trying to keep the confusion out of his tone.

He and Dream both stood in the prison’s entry hall, just in front of the portal that lead to the outside world. The stack of TNT in Techno’s inventory was starting to weight a little heavier with the realization that was staring him in the snout.

The green teletubby, who was apparently no longer homeless, scoffed.

“What? You asked if I had a house and then have the nerve to ask what I’m doing here?” Dream countered.

Techno could feel the glare coming from underneath the cracked mask on his rival’s face. Looks couldn’t kill, but he was sure Dream was trying. Too bad Technoblade never dies, especially to such a pathetic attempt.

loser living in his old prison

Even chat agreed.

“I’m just saying, but living in the same place you were, you know, tortured for several months is not an ideal coping mechanism, I gotta be honest,” Techno replied.

Dream visibly bristled at the comment. “Well, well then you can leave if-if you dislike it that much!” His voice cracked at the end. It would have been funny under other circumstances.

“Look, if you’re that desperate for a home, I can see about sneaking you into my cabin. You can hide from Phil and everyone else. But this place can’t be good for you.” Techno gestured to the stone walls around them.

Dream was definitely glaring at him. Techno was surprised the mask hadn’t disintegrated from the intensity of said glare.

“Just… what are you even doing here?” Dream asked, exasperation in his tone.

Techno sighed. He could tell the truth and have his rival really hate his guts. Or he could lie and say a concerned citizen spotted Dream in the prison area. But he was pretty sure that wouldn’t get Dream to trust him. And considering how tense and closed off Dream looked, that trust was waning by the minute.

“Look, the prison when Sam was Warden was a place of abuse of authority. And Sam isn’t here anymore because Phil and Ranboo saw him walking around as a free man. So I was here to take the prison down as a part of the Syndicate.” Techno retrieved a piece of TNT from his inventory and held it out. “You being here instead makes that a little more complicated. You’re not holding anyone inside, are you?”

Dream’s shoulders relaxed. “No. No one’s here but me. And I intend to keep it that way.”

Techno’s eyebrow rose up his forehead. “But why here? You’re free, Sam was in prison, Quackity has fewer allies. You could have gone anywhere.” He gestured to walls around them. “Why come back here?”

“It’s a fortress, Techno. Completely secure, with all the things I need to stay safe. What better place to be, huh?”

For a moment, Techno could see just barely see the kid he’d dueled before coming to the server. And that image was replaced with the scared young man he’d comforted in that horrid cell.

“Why do you need a fortress, Dream?”

What had this place, this server done to Dream? To Quackity? To Techno? To all of them. Techno would probably never know.

“You… you wouldn’t understand, Tech. There’s so much…. It’s too important. You wouldn’t understand,” Dream responded, but didn’t quite meet Techno’s eyes. It was almost like he couldn’t.

Techno sighed. “All right. All right, I won’t blow up your house, Dream. Can’t leave you homeless again.” He heard Dream scoff again and grinned at the green teletubby before schooling his expression. “But if you need help, talk to me. Gotta be honest, this is making me a little worried about you.”

He had to suppress a wince as chat exploded.

Technosoft

Technsodt

lol typo

typo L

Dream’s shoulders hunched before he visibly forced himself to relax.

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Well, I’ll be off. See ya, nerd,” Techno called as he stepped back through the portal.

As Techno left the prison behind, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding come over him. He ignored it. Dream was an adult. A young and stupid one, but still an adult. He was responsible for his own actions. Techno just hoped it wouldn’t lead to disaster.

#sixteenthdayevent #c!dream #c!technoblade #dsmp prison

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rosenbergamot · 2 months

Text

Everyone is Trans???? (REAL NOT CLICKBAIT!!!)

Grian is the only trans person on Hermitcraft.

He knows this as a complete and utter fact. He’s not lying about this, no matter how much he wishes he was-- and goodness, does he wish he was every damn day of his life. It’s lonely to be the only trans person on a server full of your dearest companions.

It’s not even a horrible thing. He doesn’t trust them any less, doesn’t love them any less, but he sure is peeved about being surrounded by cis people all the time. When he wants to talk about his hips looking too wide today, or his top surgery scars not sitting right enough for him, or the way he’s so happy he can finally grow something of a beard, or how having long hair has gone from something dysphoric to something euphoric for him-- he just can’t!

Because they won’t understand! And, sure, of course he can just tell them because they’re his friends and they care about him, but sometimes he doesn’t want to just be cared about. Sometimes he wants to be understood. Sometimes he doesn’t want to have to explain everything, going through the same tiring motions he’s gone over time and time again in his life.

Can a guy not just want another trans person to complain to? Is it really so hard for that to be his reality? Is it really so much to ask?

He’s having a particularly annoying day today. His stupid jeans aren’t fitting correctly on his hips. Usually he’s not too angry about it. On days where he feels more feminine he likes that he has these hips, revels in the way clothes hug his curves, but right now he’s feeling just about as Man as one possibly could, and it’s making him want to rip apart his clothes because none of them fit right.

He ends up in a pair of sweatpants that hide enough of himself so that he’s able to leave his base. The day outside is warmer than expected, beautiful and sunny, and he immediately regrets the large sweater and comfy sweatpants he had chosen to wear. The light glints off of the ocean, teasing him with its deep secrets that he will never be able to decipher.

In the distance he can see the newest addition to Scar’s train-- the big snail that those pesky snails had built. It worries him that they can build things all of a sudden. Still, it’s not like he can do anything about it. You just have to accept that they’re going to do whatever they please and then they’ll tone it down. It seems they like to cause mayhem. He can’t really knock them for that.

He unhooks Pluto from the post. He runs his hands through his mane, reveling in the coarse feeling. It takes his mind away from his body for a few seconds, lets him be completely and utterly still in a way that he often isn’t. Being so detail oriented and such a perfectionist can be hard on the psyche sometimes, especially when that energy is directed towards your body.

You might as well roll his boulder and call him Sisyphus because he’s… uh…

He’s having a rough go at it.

Pluto whinnies as he stops petting him, nudges his hand with his snout. It’s time to go check the shopping district. Maybe do permit things. Ugh.

The ride is uneventful. He smashes the glass to the permit office with his pickaxe, picks it back up and replaces it so that nobody gets any funny ideas. Don’t want them bothering him or anything of the sorts when he’s here. Having to work is his worst nightmare.

The office is as quiet as it is dark. He sighs so loud it fills up the space. He freshens up the light, makes sure that the sign telling people the door is out of order is in place, and then moves behind the filing cabinets, taking a look at his uniform that sits there.

Usually he likes how it fits. It’s tight, accentuating his flat chest and his curves. He likes it that way. Not today though.

Today he’ll forgo the outfit. It’s not like anyone is going to come in, anyways.

Twenty minutes later and he was very wrong. Someone is digging underneath the building, muttering to themselves, and Grian guesses who it is before he even pops his head in.

Of course Scar of all people needs help with permits today. He’s always looking for any chance he gets to bother Grian into doing work. He puts down his book, eyes him with an anger that he knows feels inappropriate even for him. Sue him, he’s having a bad day.

“Grian!” Scar’s voice is louder than he remembered. He’s got specks of dirt on his face.

He shoves his shovel into the dirt, leans on it, falls over a little bit as it teeters, tries to right himself, ends up just knocking the shovel over instead, stands up straight, puts his hands behind his back. Stops. Coughs. Smiles. Continues yapping.

“It’s so lovely to see you here! It’s such a coinkidink that fate would put the both of us here! In the permit office! At the same time! Almost as if we’re destined to meet here and do paperwork together and-- and help me with my permit so that I can actually do something as a zoo keeper…” His voice is quieter at the end. Grian pretends not to hear it.

“Scar.” He greets flatly. “What do you want?”

Disregarding his ire, Scar saunters up to him. “Oh, well, nothing too bad, G, nothing at all! I wouldn’t dream of making you work or anything-- um…” He stops suddenly. He opens his mouth. He closes it, looking him up and down. If a visual question mark could appear over a person’s head, it absolutely would in this moment. “You’re not dressed up in your-- your little… office uniform! Your little suit! Where’s your clip-on tie, Grian?”

Ugh. “Office Grian is out of the building today.”

That does not do anything to quell Scar’s confusion. His big ol’ eyes look wet and pathetic as he stares at him. “B-B-B-B-But… how am I supposed to get help with my form if office Grian isn’t here?”

“You’re just gonna have to deal with good ol’ regular Grian today.”

He loves Scar beyond words-- really, it drains him how much he loves this man-- but today is not the day for him. He can feel his energy departing out of his body already. He was going to try and stick it out for a while today. It looks like plans are changing swiftly.

“Is regular Grian as know-- legible. Knoll… knowledge…” He hums, goes down a different path. “Do you know how to do the form? Because I need some serious help, G.”

He drags a hand down his face. It’s sweaty. “Office Grian doesn’t even know how to do the form, Scar.”

“What?!” This is genuine surprise from him. “So you’re tellin’ me that this form is all… all…”

“Bullshit?” He finishes the sentence for him. “Yeah. Pretty much.” His head is starting to hurt. “Ugh. Look, Scar, I’m not feeling good today, so maybe we can leave this for another day?”

The humour drops from Scar’s face. It leaves genuine concern. “Yeah-- I mean, no worries. Of course. Of course! Do you… uh, do you need-- need anything? Want to… talk about it?”

It’s tentative. An olive branch. Scar is a very kind guy. A genuinely nice person. He thinks he’s perhaps caught him off guard with how open he’s being right now. It leaves him quiet and thoughtful.

When the smile is off of Scar’s face one can really appreciate the way he looks. It’s not like his smile isn’t beautiful-- because it is, it’s moreso that this stillness is rare for him, moments of calm few and far between his cheesy one-liners and fake grins, and so when one is awarded this sight it feels disarming.

He often forgets how beautiful Scar is. He thinks about how handsome he is on the daily, a fact which he divulges to nobody but himself, achingly aware of it everytime he sees him. Yet he misses how pretty he is. It makes his heart hurt.

“Um.” He says as he snaps himself out of his… state. With nothing else to say, he just goes, “okay?” Y’know, like someone who wasn’t just staring deep into their friend’s eyes and remarking on how gorgeous they are. Like a smart and normal person. He grins to try and make it look extra convincing.

Scar’s face immediately screws up into worry. It was not convincing.

“Ohhhh, god. Who are you and what have you done with Grian? I-I-I-I’m scared! You actually want to talk about it? What kind of sorcery is this?”

The bit of humour grounds him. He snorts. “Scar, don’t make me regret my choice.”

That shocks him into movement. His friend’s head whips around, eyes looking for something. He runs around the office wildly, tripping over his untied shoelaces, ignoring his squawk of “tie your shoes Scar!”, and comes back with two chairs. He sets them down in front of the desk, patting the other one. When Grian doesn’t move he pats it again, more insistent. Finally he acquiesces, leaving the comfort of the desk and sitting across from Scar.

“So!” His voice is far too cheery. His smile is straining at the edges. He’s out of his element right now, Grian realizes. And it’s because he always has to fight to get these talks out of Grian. It’s like pulling tooth and nail sometimes. And here he is, just ready to… to bare it all.

Oh, god. He’s going to talk to him. About his problems. And his body.

He suddenly feels sick.

“I think I may throw up.”

Scar’s smile falls. “What?”

He splays his upper body across the desk. His stomach is doing flips. “This. This is going to kill me, Scar. Do you understand?”

“N-No?”

“I am going to die a painful death, Scar, and it’s all because you made me talk about my… my feelings!” He makes a throwing up sound.

“Now you-- you just wait a second, mister!” Scar leans forward so that he can poke him in the shoulder. “I didn’t make you do anything-- in fact you agreed to it! So let me hear it, Gri, or I-I swear I’m gonna… I’m gonna! I’m gonna send those stupid snails back over to you and make them eat your mending book right in front of your eyes!”

He gasps. “You wouldn’t.”

An mhm. A nod. “Ohhh, I would. Don’t you test me now!”

He’s seen enough fish in the short span they’ve been in this season to know that, in his shock, his mouth is opening and closing like one. It takes all his resolve to not run out of the building and leave this stupid place behind. Sure, Scar may try and follow him, but he’s fast-- surely he can outrun him! It… it wouldn’t be too hard! He can do it!

The energy leaves him in one fell swoop as the silence drags on and Scar only seems to get more worried about him. Finally, he looks away.

“I feel alone…” he bites out. It’s like chewing glass.

“Oh?” Scar is interested. That’s him telling him to continue.

The proverbial glass on his tongue and teeth cut up his mouth and bleed the truth out of him. “I have… a particular problem that nobody else on the server can relate to.”

“Is it an avian thing?” He scratches his head. “Y’know, I know that Pearl isn’t exactly an avian herself, but she may be able to help you out. Or-- hey! Jimmy is an avian! We can message him?”

He’s earnest. So earnest. He grits his teeth. “It’s not. An avian thing.”

That makes Scar stop. “Is it… is it a them thing?”

Them. Neither of them need to say their names to know.

“God-- no. No. Thank goodness.” In his stress, he begins to pull at his hair, his wings ruffling. “I just. God. Scar, I can’t believe you don’t know. We’ve spent…” lives together. Lived and died together. Stuck by each other’s sides when no one else would. Hurt each other but mostly just loved each other. “We’ve spent time together.”

“We sure have! I-- I, uh… I don’t know what you’re talking about, though.”

“Have you ever looked at me when I’m shirtless?” He just decides to bite the bullet.

Scar’s jaw drops. His face begins to turn a shade of red he didn’t think was possible. He looks away, fiddling with the brim of his hat. “No, no-- no! No way. Noooo way. Never, G-- never! I would. Never.”

“Why are you so--? Look, nevermind! Scar, I-I’m different from everyone else and it’s not because of them and it’s not because I’m an avian.”

“You’re gonna have to spell it out for me.” He’s still not looking at him. Did that really embarrass him so much? That… that means many things that he just does not have the brain to dissect right now.

“I’m not cis.” Is all he can really say.

It’s so silent you can hear a pin drop.

“You’re…” Scar’s finger wobbles as he points at him. His jaw is back to being on the fucking floor.

For a second, Grian thinks he’s just fucked up the entire thing they have going on. Scar is going to leave him. He’s going to hate him and he’s going to tell everyone and it’s going to ruin his life. Poppies and lilacs will mean nothing to them anymore.

But then Scar starts to smile. He wiggles his fingers, bouncing in his seat. “Ooooh, Grian! Grian, I had no idea! What the heck?” His laugh is a little intense considering the information just given. Dread leaks out of his body and is replaced by confusion. Scar is still laughing. “What the heck?! You mean to tell me we could have been bondin’ even more? How-- how the heck did I not notice that?”

“What…?” His voice cracks.

Firmly, Scar points at him. “Hold on, how the heck did you not notice this?!” He points to his own chest.

“Scar, what on Earth are you talking about?”

With little care for much of… anything, really, Scar rips his own shirt open, the buttons flying off and skittering across the floor. He points aggressively at two thick scars underneath his pecs. They pucker at the end, pulling skin taut against his ribs. He’d recognize something like that anywhere.

It’s Grian’s turn for his jaw to drop. “W-What? You… wait-- what? You… I-- Scar, put your shirt back on!”

“The shirt is gone, Grian,” he says with faux seriousness. “You’re just gonna have to deal with this right now.”

He’s trying very hard not to stare at Scar’s chest. He is fighting a losing battle.

“Nevermind that, though-- how the heck did you not notice these scars? They’re gigantic, Grian! Biggest ones I’ve got on my-- my whole… whole area!” He gestures vaguely to his body.

“Your torso?” He sighs. “I don’t know, Scar, I guess I don’t make it a habit to look at your pecs?”

That answer seems to displease him greatly. “Well, I can’t see why not, my pecs are amayzin’.”

You know what… “Sure, Scar. Sure they are.”

He beams at him. “You’re welcome to stare at them anytime, Grian!”

His ears are getting warm. Stupid Scar. “It’s nice to know I’m not alone on here.”

To Scar this seems like a joke. He laughs. When Grian doesn’t laugh too, he stops. Stares at him. Squints at him. “You-- you weren’t ever alone, Grian.”

“I didn’t know that you were also trans!” He argues, feeling his back start to rise.

“No-- no, I mean… jeez, Grian, I don’t think I know a single cis person on this server. In fact, MIster, I thought you were the only one we had-- until now, of course!”

“What.”

“Actually I think Skizzy Wizzy is cis! Or-- or maybe he’s not…” He furrows his brows. “Ah, whatever, point is: you’re surrounded by trans people whether you like it or not, mister!”

“Why would I dislike it?” It still doesn’t feel real to him. If he weren’t sitting down he would have to sit down again. As it stands (or sits, he supposes) he just sinks lower into his chair. “I can’t believe this. I’ve been-- I’ve been stewing for years! Wait-- Mumbo?!”

“Yep!” He pops the ‘p’, grinning wildly. It makes Grian start to laugh. That makes Scar start to laugh. In a very sweet moment that turns very sobering very quickly, Scar takes his hand, squeezes it as if he’s squeezing one of those grip testing machines-- ow! “Now you don’t have to hide it, G. Isn’t that amayzin’?”

The contact makes his head start to spin. “You’re crushing my hand, Scar.”

“Whoops!” He lets go, blushing. “Sorry, sometimes I don’t even know my own strength!”

“Yeah, yeah… anyways, what was that about you definitely not staring at my chest earlier?”

Scar runs out of the building so fast you would swear he had somewhere to be.

Which is good enough for Grian, because that means he doesn’t have to put an ounce of work in today! He puts down his ‘Gone Fishin’ sign, repairs the hole left by Scar, and then leaves the building. He feels lighter than he’s ever felt before.

So it turns out he was wrong. He’s never been so glad to be so wrong.

(read it on ao3 here! <3)

#desert duo #scarian #peskytimes #thats so cute losing my mind #hermitfic #hermitshipping #hello welcome back to my everyone is transsexual propaganda #ask me about my headcanons i am shaking the bars of my enclosure #ALSO share with me ur headcanons #!!!!! looove talking ab shit like this #ok thats all ive got #rosie writing #FORGOT TO PUT A READ MORE ON IT THIS IS A LONG FIX #FIC NOT BFIX

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axelsagewrites · 10 months

Text

Daemon Targaryen*Shopping

Sugar Baby Series Part Three

Part one - Part two

Pairings: Daemon x f!reader

Other pairings: reader x platonic Jace/Cregan/Sara/Aly/Aemond, Jace x Sara Snow

Warnings: creepy Aegon, Aemond having bad parents (Aemond redemption arc anyone??), general confrontation, swears, mentions of sex but nothing graphic, innuendos

Word count: 3390

Masterlist Here

“Remind me why we have to go to work when your sugar daddies already paid our bills for the next like six months?” Sara asked after you had both just sprinted to catch the bus.

You rolled your eyes as you stood on the bustling city bus filled with stoners and depressed office workers, “When did it become our money?” you asked. By this point you had gone on several more dates with Daemon. All to fancy restaurants and lunch spots.

He’d also began to send outfits to your house for each, making sure they were sent in discreet packaging still not trusting your neighbours. Gucci belts, Louis Vuitton heels, Chanel dress, Prada bags. Each date got a new outfit, hand picked by a stylist he had hired for you. each date also got an envelope discreetly passed to you as he kissed you goodnight. These goodbye kisses may have started out slow, but one time Sara had genuinely wondered if you were having sex on the doorway with how long it was taking. The best part? You didn’t have to pick up as many shifts so for once you felt you could relax. Sadly though, you still kept working despite it all.

Sara wrapped her arm around yours, partly to try keep steady on the bumpy roads as she held onto a handrail, “I’m your sugar baby now,” she said as she leaned into you making you laugh, “How many dates till you can get a car? Oh! Try get his Benz!” She chirped as an old lady a foot away glared at her. sara just glared back.

You couldn’t help but laugh at her antics, “I’ll see what I can do. Still waiting on him texting me the next date,”

“Make it soon,” she groaned. The rest of the bus journey was mostly uneventful apart from the lady sara had developed a silent beef with. Luckily, she got off before you. the restaurant wasn’t supposed to be too busy tonight however that didn’t make it safe from a Targaryen invasion.

Aly smiled unnaturally wide as you and Sara walked in, arms linked laughing. “Hey guys,” she said, drawing out the words with the biggest smile. She may be a server and a host, but she was a horrible liar. “How are you?” she asked.

Your stomach felt hollow as you realised, “Oh god not again,”

Aly told you both how Aegon had practically skipped down a few months ago when he graduated business school and now that Alicent had tracked him down and dragged him back she, her father, husband and eldest son were now due in for dinner to celebrate. “It is so not my turn, nuh uh no way,”

“Don’t worry its Cregan’s turn,” Aly said as she looked over the reservation, “I gave you the good section tonight, remember me when you marry rich,” she said, smiling as she leant on the host stand.

“You bitch,” you said as you smacked Saras arm, “How many people did you tell?”

“Ow!” Sara whined as she hit you back. “It wasn’t me gold digger,” she said as she swapped placed with Aly to take over as host, “Bet you it was Cregan,”

You rolled your eyes when Aly told you that basically everyone knew, “What about Aemond?” you asked as you tied your apron on, “Speaking of where the hell is he?”

“He’s tots freaking out about his mum coming in with Aegon and is going all perfectionist on the layout,” Aly said as she picked up her bags, “Mans been driving me up the wall. But he doesn’t know. we’re not that cruel besides he barely talks to us now,”

How is he not lonely you wondered. Before you could even protest Aly beelined for the door and you heard a loud huff, “No loitering!” Aemond puffed out his chest as he practically dragged you to the server stand, Sara giving a sorry wave as you went, “Everything needs to be perfect today, my mothers been on my case about this place and she needs to see that im still the better son so you better bring you’re a game-“

Wait a minute. “What?” you said as you stopped in the middle of the floor. There were only three tables in right now and four servers, but Aemond still walked right up to you to ask what’s wrong, “I had her last time?”

“And?” he asked, crossing his arms, “Why can’t you serve her this time? she likes you,”

You couldn’t help but snort, “Aem we used to be friends, remember?” you asked, touching his shoulder, “Remember our walk-in conversation?” you asked with raised brows. One-night Aemond practically had a breakdown his first month on the job because his mother had come in and was tormenting the staff all night, “We both know she’s a nightmare,”

“C’mon she’s my mom,” he sighed as he finished dragging you to the host stand, “Do me a favour. Since we used to be friends,” he said, rolling his eyes when he said used to, “Though I thought we still were,” he muttered and for a second you almost felt bad, “Just do your job its not that hard,” then he opened his mouth again.

“Whatevs Aemond,” you said as you logged into the tablet, “Don’t you have a rota to fuck up?” before he could protest a chef came out to drag him into the kitchen to complain about the latest food order. You knew better than to back talk Aemond but the nearly $7 in your cookie tin at home was putting a pep in your step.

Hearing that Alicent liked you was the only thing that worried you. daemon had been in a couple times since your arrangement had started and each time, he gave you a sly smirk or a wink. Whenever there was no Hightower in sight, he would request your section but even still she seemed to be catching on to some kind of tension.

When you arrived at their table to take their order you were met with the confused eyes of Aegon Targaryen, “(Y/N)?” he asked, tilting his head when he saw you before he suddenly stood up, “Long time no see,” he said and before you could say anything or even move he’d wrapped his arms around you for a brief, but very touchy hug. “How’ve you been doll?”

That name was exclusively reserved in your mind for daemon so when Aegon said it you quickly pulled him off of you with a smile, “I’m good Mr Targaryen, can I get you a drink?” you said as you showed him back to his seat. Alicent was muttering something under her breath, eyes glaring daggers into the table, “Can I get you anything ma’am?”

“Water for the table and- “

“Plenty of lemons? Of course, ma’am,” you said, cutting her off and trying not to smirk. No matter what Alicent knew, there was something she did not know. daemon had already given you all the dirt on her. he had told you every crumb of his family drama and for once you felt like you had the upper hand. “Anything for our regulars,” you smiled as you jotted down on your notepad.

Viserys seemed extremely pleased that you had recognised their frequent visits but Alicent and Otto both looked mortified. When it was finally time to take their orders, Otto spoke up first, “I’ll have a medium rare steak with no pink and not burnt either hear me? I swear your kitchen people can’t cook steak to save their life,” he muttered.

Then order something else. You wanted to scream. The whole night went like that. Alicent’s petty requests and Aegon’s creepy stares. Even Aemond had asked if you were okay at one point. You’d snuck off to the kitchen to send a quick rant text to daemon, asking how he could be related to these sorts of people.

Otto had sent back his steak for the third time, everyone else on desert as he waited. “Medium rare no pink,” you said, trying your best to smile as you sat down his impossible order. “Enjoy,”

“Wait,” he said as he picked up his cutlery, “I want to make sure its right before you run off again,” you nodded and waited as he cut into the meat, excruciatingly slow, “Again!” he yelled as he slammed the cutlery down, making even Alicent jump, “Look at all this blood! He said as he picked up the plate only to clatter it back onto the table, “Does that look medium rare to you?” he asked, pointing the steak knife at you.

“Yes,” you said blankly, ignoring the vein that almost bulged out of his forehead, “Do not yell at me sir,”

“Excuse me?” Otto yelled as he stood up, dropping his knife onto the table, “I never- I come here all the time and- Aemond!” he yelled across to the boy who was trying to hide behind a bar tender, “Talk to your staff this is ridiculous,”

Aemond practically ran over as he tried to defuse his grandfather, begging him to sit down at the same time. “She’s sorry, aren’t you?” Aemond asked as he grabbed your arm, looking at you with pleading eyes.

You briefly glanced at Sara who was watching this whole thing from the host stand and Cregan who had just walked in for his shift. You turned back to the group, looking at Alicent first, glancing over to the sulking Viserys and Aegon who had finally grown some humility, then finally the grown man yelling like a child. “I’m sorry you never learned how to order a steak,” you said slowly, ignoring how Aemond tried to pull you away and shaking him off, “Learn how to order a steak and find some manners,”

Before Otto could speak you continued, turning to face Aemond who looked on the brink of tears, “I quit, you can have my tables and as for yous- “you said turning to face the table. Aegon’s jaw went slack as he stared at you in amazement while Viserys looked at his wife, fear radiating off of him. Alicent however looked shocked, angry, and embarrassed all at once, “Have a pleasant fucking day, see ya,”

With that you stormed out to the host stand, not even bothering to clock out or put your tips in the tip out jar and grabbed your jacket from the rack. You glanced back to see Alicent and Otto screaming at Aemond, pointing at you with flailing arms. “I quit,” you told the shocked siblings, “And I think I might have accidentally got Aemond killed. Good luck,”

“You’re my hero,” Cregan said, his eyes wide with awe like a child.

“I’ve never been so proud,” Sara said before glancing back to where Alicent and Otto were now storming over, “but you need to go. Like now. Run if you can,”

You didn’t wait another second before almost running out the restaurant however as you reached the street you felt yourself smack into someone’s chest. “Doll?” a deep voice came from the man. You looked up to see Daemon, still in his work clothes and looking down at you with worry and shock, “Are you okay?”

“We need to go,” you said as you grabbed his hand and dragged him back to the car he had just got out of, “I’ll explain in the car just go, go!” you said as you jumped in the back seat.

“To my house please,” Daemon told his very shocked looking driver, “What happened doll?” he asked as he shut the door.

You looked past him to where a bewildered otto looked around the street shocked, “I think I may have upset your sister-in-law,” you said with a sheepish smile. “I guess you got my text?”

Daemon looked back from otto to you, eyebrows scrunched and jaw hanging open, “I was coming over to yell at them but looks like you beat me to it,”

When you retold your glorious tale to Daemon, he listened in silence like he was reading the tensest book of his life. When you finished your tale, you feared for a moment that he looked almost disappointed in you. then a smirk spread across his face. “I’ve never been prouder of you doll face. Eryk change of plans we need to go dress shopping. Celebrations are in order,”

You had never been shopping with daemon, but you could easily get used to it. he whisked you past all the shops you used to frequent and straight to the nearest boutique. He sat patiently, sipping champagne as a shopping assistant helped you find and try on dresses to show him.

Daemons eyes raked up and down your figure when you stepped out the changing room for the fifth time. Daemon stood up slowly from the chair, stepping towards you and silently taking your hand to slowly spin you around, “Like it?” you giggled as his eyes finally tore away from your figure to your eyes. It was a dark purple, satin evening dress that hugged you perfectly and felt as silky as a waterfall.

“Fucking love, it,” he mumbled as he stepped in closer, placing a soft kiss to your lips, “You’re getting it,”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit much for tonight?” you asked, stepping back with a laugh to look in the mirror. It was beautiful, you had to admit, but you had also seen the price tag.

“We’ll get another for tonight,” Daemon said as he moved back to pour you your own glass of champagne, “and that can be for the gala,”

“The gala?” you asked, finally turning back to him.

Daemon rolled his eyes as he gulped his champagne down, “It’s a family thing,” he drawled as he returned to his chair, “it will be painfully dull im afraid but suppose it will be far more enjoyable with you on my arm,”

Even still after all this time you couldn’t help your flush, “We’ll see,” you grinned as you looked at the dress, “You sure it’s not too expensive?”

“Nothings too much for my princess,” he said before waving down the store woman who was hanging around like a hawk, “Can we see her in that dark red number I saw in the window?”

“Of course, sir, just one moment,”

After another three dresses you had finally settled on one for tonight. It was a silk black dress, simpler than the rest but still to die for. When you told daemon it was the one, he nodded, kissing your cheek before waving the lady back over, “Hi we’ll take this one now along with the dark red, white, and lilac dresses from before. then as for that purple dress do yous do custom sizing?”

“Of course, sir,” the woman said, practically drooling over the commission, “I can measure her right now if you’d like,”

Daemon nodded and the woman quickly fetched the measuring tape, wasting no time in grabbing your arm to start writing the numbers down, “We need it for the sixth, will that work?”

“I’ll have it done by the first,”

when you were stood at the till beside daemon you were almost sick at the prices, “Daemon you really don’t have to,” you said, gently holding his arm as the sale girl glared at you.

“Nonsense,” Daemon said as he kissed the top of your head and swiped his card like it was second nature, “Besides we haven’t even hit the jewellers yet,”

By the time you had left the mall Daemon had spent the equivalent of a small house on your outfit for tonight with a few surprise dresses. Since you still had to get ready, and it was only five daemon was going to drop you at your house before picking you up again at six. “Where do you want to eat tonight darling?” he asked as he held your thigh in the car, his thumb stroking over your skin, “Anywhere you want,”

“Why don’t we eat in?” you offered, trying to think of anyway to save him some money after the massive shopping spree you had just been on.

Daemon looked surprised before quickly nodding, “Its short notice but im sure Olivia will be able to swing bye and rustle us something- “

“I meant like,” you said, cutting him off, “Why don’t I cook for us? It would be cute, just us,” you said, as you nudged his foot with your own, “intimate even,”

“I think I like the sounds of that,” Daemon said lowly through hooded eyes, the sight alone making your heart race. Luckily, or maybe not so lucky, you were just pulling up to your street. daemon glanced out the window, “lets do it at mine though,” he said.

You laughed at his scepticism as you grabbed the bags of dresses, “Whatever makes you happy,”

“That’d be you doll,” he said, letting go of your thigh before quickly stepping out of the car. As you waited for him to open your door, something he had insisted on doing since you started your arrangement, you were able to collect yourself.

Daemon opened the door for you and helped you carry your bags upstairs, even saying hello to Robb as he left the building. You knew sara would be home by now since you knew she only had a short shift today so you wondered how long she would squeal for when she saw the necklace daemon had bought you. when you finally reached your door daemon paused for a moment, “Im afraid I’ve not got any cash love,” he said as he handed you your bags.

You hummed in fake thought, “I suppose I can take a kiss as payment,”

Daemon chuckled as he leaned down, his hand cupping your jaw to bring you in for a brief but intense kiss, “See you in an hour doll,” he mumbled as he broke the kiss.

“Wish it was then,” you said, opening the door and giving him a small smirk as you stepped backwards into the flat, trying your best to seem seductive.

Weird, you thought, sara wasn’t in the living room. You sat the bags down on the couch before walking towards saras room. She can nap later, you thought. “Sara!” you called, hand on her door handle, “You will never believe what Daemon got-JACE WHAT THE FUCK!” you practically screamed as you opened the door.

Jace scrambled so quickly to cover them both that he fell off the bed, dragging the covers with him. You slapped a hand over your eyes as the pair both scrambled to get under the covers. When you finally looked through your fingers, they both looked mortified. “You said you didn’t like him!” you almost yelled at Sara.

“Yeah, well I lied, okay?!” she yelled back.

“Should I go?” Jace asked, reaching for his shirt.

“No,”

“Yes,”

“Dude!” Sara yelled.

“Dude! I need you to help me get ready,” you said, moving to sit on her bed. Sara was unfazed by how close you were, but Jace seemed to clutch the covers tighter, “Also I need to cook for daemon,”

“You’re a terrible cook,”

“Im not that bad,”

“You burnt water,” she said, glaring at you, “Ugh fine I’ll help,” she said as she moved to grab a shirt before turning back to Jace, “This was amazing babe. Just give me half an hour, an hour tops, and I’ll be right back, okay?” she said, kissing him softly making you fake gag.

A love smitten smile fell over Jaces face as he looked at sara who quickly got dressed. “Okay,” he said like he was in a dream before falling back to lay down.

When you walked into the living room with sara you paused for a moment, “If you break his heart- “you began to talk before sara shushed you.

“I do actually like him,” she sighed, “I caught feelings, I know its weird. But he’s so cute,”

“At least I won’t be alone at the gala,” you said making Sara raise an eyebrow, “I’ll tell you all about it while you do my hair,”

Sara sighed as she shoved you down onto the chair, “Why do I have a bad feeling about this gala?”

If you don't want to read smut you can skip the smut part without the series plot being affected

Part four smut edition here

a/n: so this is offically gonna be a 5 part series now. part 4 will be up tommorow then part 5 a couple days after that so dont worry its almost here i swear i promise

Part four non smut here

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila @delicious-xx @pet1t3 @skyesayshi @urmomsgirlfriend1 @dark-night-sky-99 @lantsovheiress @themotherofblood @avalyaaa

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theminecraftbee · 6 months

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hermit horror week day 5: season 1 or 2 or echoes

It's a nice gesture.

Joe finishes the monument, steps back, and looks at it. He removes one of the pieces required to finish it. He steps back. He looks at it.

It's a nice gesture. There's, like, blood on his hands, and every one of his scars aches, but it's a nice gesture, you know?

"It's not his fault it's havin' the opposite effect," Joe mutters to himself. He removes a piece of the monument. He puts it back. He remains standing in front of the thing GenerikB built for him, and he remains on Hermitcraft, and no new knowledge of how to leave again has come to his mind.

It's a nice gesture, it really, really is. Joe's, uh, not used to parts like this anymore. He doesn't get much a chance to show his hospitality. Talking to people, it's--new! It's new. It's fun, too, to do things like prank folks, and meet new folks, and build things for the sake of building them, and everything else. He's not mad he escaped to this Hermitcraft place, really, he's not. It's a nice place to be.

Joe walks in a circle around the monument.

It's a really nice gesture. The man who owns this place, he knows where Joe's from. Knows the sorts of things Joe is used to doing. Went about building a monument, so Joe would have something to do. In return, Joe's thinking he's going to break into the man's impenetrable base, just to show him that it's not so impenetrable when you're used to dying, and dying, and dying, and dying, and dying, and...

So the thing is, two weeks after arriving, now, he doesn't want to admit it. Everyone's hospitality, it had been grand. Far better than he'd gotten before. There hadn't even been any arenas he was expected to kill people in for their amusement! If he ever got the chance, he'd rate them five stars. Not a death trap, no vindictive gods, no way out.

No.

Okay.

He pulls a block off the monument and puts it back. He waits for the capricious god of this world to show him the exit.

So the thing is, two weeks after arriving, he got a bit of cold feet. Not anyone's fault, really. He's just, like. Okay, he does talk to people. Cleo, Cleo he keeps in contact. Good friend of his, Cleo. Doesn't have any hard feelings about the murder. Makes sense, given that she's neck-deep in everything too. Used to the kinds of people they are. Is he making sense? They're--used to it. It's easy with her. She knows not to question how a man who likes building houses out of sand and gravel to show off how precarious they are ended up with scars. She was there. Not, like, with him, but--

Anyway. The problem is that the people here are... nice. Nicer than he knows how to deal with.

The problem is that he can't leave.

He's tried to figure it out. He thinks, like, the server's a Chinese finger trap, maybe? The more you try to get out, the more stuck you get. That doesn't make sense, because he can see the writing on the wall, and he's not the only one who wants to try to leave. He thinks the one who made this place is leaving here soon, too.

That's why he's back here, because--like, at the time, it had probably been good he didn't leave. If he'd left, he'd never have jumped on that box, or made the friends he's made, or built a piston door, or even gotten anywhere close to reaching Hypno's house with his railway. (One of these days, he'll make it.) He wouldn't have proven to himself, hey, he can build, too, and make jokes, and be the odd one out. He's good with those things. So he'd thought that someone was looking out for him, not letting him leave, and hey, nothing had ever managed to trap Joe forever.

He's way too good at dying for anything to trap him forever. He's, like, got a song about it and everything? Man, and they'd laughed when he'd sung it to them, too, but then again, that's just that he's bad at singing, and GenerikB is leaving.

He removes a piece from the monument. He puts it back. He circles the structure.

It's a nice gesture. It was a nice gesture when he joined, and it's a nice gesture now. Little taste of the constant death labyrinth he hailed from, you know? Little taste of--here, here's that goal you're used to. It's cute. It's cute.

So, like, he's completed the monument, though. He's done it.

And he's still--here. He can't leave.

And he's, uh. Not really certain what happens to a world, when its god abandons it, but by god, or maybe Vechs, or certainly GenerikB, that god is leaving it.

And Joe--

The thing is, this time when he gets cold feet, it's not just going to be him trapped.

And he'll find his way out. He always does.

It's just--

Two weeks after joining, he'd gotten cold feet. Cleo, she understands. She's used to what happens when people are cruel. People who are used to that--she'd probably laugh if he told her he'd gone and gotten trapped because he got attached to things, like any stray creeper couldn't take them.

But here he is. And here they are.

The monument doesn't let him out, and its god is abandoning them all.

He doesn't know how to get anyone out but himself.

He pulls a block. He replaces it.

He doesn't know where to start looking, except that it will be very painful, because it always is, and he will not stop until it's done, because he never does.

He pulls a block. He replaces it.

The shrine stays dead.

#hermithorrorweek2023 #a bee fic #hermitcraft #joe hills #do you ever think about how genericb built joe a CTM just so he'd feel like he fit in #and how that interfaces with. you know. a lot of headcanoned How Superhostile Worked headcanons #because I SURE DO.#i ALSO think about how hermitcraft is named for a man who abandoned it.#like. woof. consider that.#this one's probably the least horror of the week so far but i figured people could use a breather after the last two

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league-of-sam · 1 month

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Don't Be Shy | Konig x Reader

Kӧnig x TF141 x AFAB!Reader

PART TWO

Summary: Transferred against your will to a new task force to calm a troubled soldier, you felt way in over your head - especially when you came face to face with a 6'10" mountain of Austria. 18+ MINORS DNI! t.w // angst, mental health, language, violence, human trafficking, death, sexual themes/SMUT, military inaccuracies, language inaccuracies (google translate).

1 / 3 / 4 / 5

As predicted, and as the newest addition to the task force, Fender wanted to see your abilities in action.

For days, he pushed you.

He had you run through all of their training exercises, of which you completed with full marks. By the time you were done, you were completely exhausted, and starving.

“Hey! Newbie!” A voice called as you laced up your boots.

Looking up, you saw a group of soldiers approaching you, two males, one female.

“Uh, hi.” You said, wiping your hands on your trousers as you stood.

“Horangi.” The first introduced himself, “This is Hutch and Calisto.”

“Calisto.” You hummed, “Cool name.”

“Not as cool as yours, Karma.” She replied, nudging you playfully.

You laughed, “Yeah, I got Soap to thank for that.”

“So, you’re 141?” Horangi asked.

“Yeah, been with them about a year, transferred here temporarily to-”

“Deal with Kӧnig,” Hutch cut you off, “Yeah, everyone knows why you’re here.”

You frowned.

No wonder Kӧnig kept to himself outside of missions, these people treated him like utter shit.

You looked around for the giant but came up empty.

“He seems nice.” You spoke.

Calisto snorted, hand moving to cover her mouth, “The guy is silent, doesn’t speak to anyone.”

Her laughing rubbed you the wrong way, and despite the two of you having a rather...hostile start, you felt the need to defend Kӧnig.

“Have you tried talking to him instead of waiting for him to speak to you?” you challenged.

She shrugged, shaking her head somewhat ashamedly. Hutch bared the same reaction, which told you all you needed to know; no one had even given him a chance.

“Say, uh, wanna join us for dinner?” Horangi said.

At the mention of food, your stomach grumbled loudly, making the group laugh, “Now you mention it, I’m starving.”

With that, the four of you made your way to the canteen, the darkness of the night drawing your attention to how late it actually was. The canteen was bustling, murmurs of numerous conversations flowing around you, creating a sea of sound.

It was strange, coming from a small, elite, taskforce to one that had at least 40 soldiers. You were used to home-cooked family meals with the 141, mostly cooked by you. Here, it was a full on cafeteria, trays and all.

You thanked the servers profusely as they placed the meal onto your tray, and then turned, scanning the room for a place to sit.

Calisto called your name, beckoning you over to the table she was at, sat alongside Fender and Roze.

Something else caught your eye, though.

In the corner, pushing the food around his plate, was Kӧnig. He was sat alone, and even the few tables in his immediate vicinity were empty. People avoided him like the plague.

With a soft smile to Calisto, you shrugged, and made your way to him.

Might as well get started now.

He didn’t look at you as you sat down in the seat opposite, but the room practically fell silent. It was enough of a change for him to finally look up, and that’s when you noticed the colour of his eyes.

Blue.

A gorgeous, crystalline, blue.

They widened as he saw you before him, his fork scraping against the pottery with an agonising squeal. You offered a small smile, fidgeting a little under his gaze.

“How is the food here?” you spoke. He didn’t reply, continuing to gawk at you, “It any good or am I about to get poisoned?”

You cringed internally at your attempt to make a joke, and his lack of an answer made things so much worse.

He looked the furthest from pleased, his eyes narrowing and the grip on his own fork seeming uncomfortably tight. You ate in an uncomfortable silence, until the density of the air became a little too heavy.

“What did you have?” you spoke again, nodding to his torn-up-but-barely-eaten food.

He just continued to stare at you with a shark-like gaze, as if you were some silly warbling seal swimming up to him in his lair. You tilted your head, confused by his reactions to your words. You wondered if, maybe, he’d get angry, but instead his eyes began darting around the room, as if he was waiting for someone to strike.

“I-is something wrong, Kӧnig?” you asked, trying to follow him in whatever it was he was searching the room for.

“Why are you asking me all these questions?” he finally spoke.

Your gaze faltered from him, an embarrassed blush creeping onto your cheeks, “Oh, uh, just trying to make conversation. We are partners after all-”

“I don’t need a partner, don’t need you.” He spat.

“I know it’s not exactly ideal for either of us.” You frowned, “But I’d like for us to get to know-”

“Who put you up to this?” he said, cutting you off with a raised voice, “Was it Horangi? No, Roze? Calisto? I saw you laughing with them.”

His voice got louder and louder with every word he threw at you, leaning in your direction angrily. Your hands began to shake, you were never good with hostility and confrontation, that’s why you were a sniper in the first place – you were out of the action.

That’s why Ghost was so protective of you.

He saw one of the rookies giving you a mouthful in the briefing room, once. Your small hands were shaking at your sides as you tried to swallow down tears. He’d wasted no time in saving you from that situation and giving that rookie a piece of his mind.

That’s when he and the rest of the 141 realised what a soft, kind, human you were, and how protective they all felt of you.

So, in this moment, when you could feel that lump in your throat rise and your eyes sting, you weren’t at all surprised. Annoyed with yourself, yes, but confrontation was not your strong suit.

“N-no, not at all!” you struggled to speak, “I wanted to speak to you, no one has made me do anything I swear.”

“Just leave me alone.”

He stood from the table with such force, that it sent the chair he’d been sitting on screeching and clattering backwards, toppling over with a deafening blow. It made you jump, but you did nothing as he stormed past you, whispering under his breath in a mixture of German and English.

The entire cafeteria was looking at you now, some looked terrified, some looking not-so-surprised.

Guess you knew now why no one spoke to Kӧnig.

You’d rushed from the canteen not long after him, the tears threatening to spill forcing you to the safety of your dorm.

Before you even had a chance to breathe, your tablet rang, signalling a video call.

When you answered, the faces of Soap and Ghost popped up, smiles on their lips as soon as they saw you.

“With all due respect, Lieutenant, this really isn’t a good time.” You sniffed, rubbing your eyes.

His and Soap’s excited demeanour immediately changed, the two of them sharing a look of concern before bombarding you with questions along the lines of who hurt you? Do we need to come? Say the word and we’ll kill whoever it is-

“Fucking hell, shut up!” you stopped them, but a giggle escaped your lips at their protective nature, “It’s fine, just…this guy is tougher than I thought.”

“I’ll say!” Soap spoke, “We read his file, lass. The man is an absolute nutjob.”

“That isn’t nice, Soap.”

“It’s true, kid. Did you read his file?” Ghost said, propping the camera up more.

“Only what Fender gave me.” You sighed.

“What about the classified stuff?”

“Funnily enough, Soap, I didn’t see that. In case you forgot, classified means not accessible.”

Soap grumbled under his breath at your retort, Ghost whispering for him to shut the fuck up. The sight made you laugh, honestly. The two were already like an old married couple.

It was adorable.

“What’s in the classified then? Anything I should know?” you pressed.

“He took out an entire human trafficking base in Berlin alone. Breached the doors and killed all twelve men in there on his own, without weapons. The guy is a psychopath.”

Your eyes widened in shock, “Christ…what the fuck has Price got me into? I just tried talking to him for the first time in days and he yelled at me in front of everyone and pushed a chair practically across the room.”

“Ya need to be careful, bonnie.” Soap said, worry striking his features.

“They treat him like shit here. I need to help him. He has issues with anxiety and not one person ever speaks to him outside of missions.”

“Just make sure you keep yourself safe, can’t have this guy hurtin’ ya.”

“Careful, Ghost – you’re really teetering on the edge of sounding like you care!” you teased, earning you an eye roll, “Besides, I don’t think there’s a whole lot I can do. Kӧnig is 6’10 and built like a brick shithouse.”

You couldn’t help but lose yourself in thought as your mind took you back to the office, seeing his giant body tower over you.

Unfortunately, Soap was being very observant, and he did not miss the way your tongue slowly licked over your lips.

“Karma…do not tell me you have a crush on this guy?!”

“W-what? Soap- no! I’ve just met him!” you screeched, but once again your face was heating, and you didn’t dare look at the two men before you.

“Fuckin’ steaming hell, you do!”

“No, I do not-!”

A knock at your door cut you off, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

Spilling out a rushed goodbye to the boys, who were speaking over one another to get you to stay, you cut them off, tossing the tablet behind you and approaching your door.

With a heavy hand, you pulled it open, only for your eyes to be level with a very hard chest.

Slowly, you tipped your head up, finally making eye contact with the last person you’d expected to see. You were cast in darkness, his frame completely blocking any light from the hallway seeping through.

“Oh, u-uh, Kӧnig…hi.” You said softly.

He looked down at you, shifting on his feet, “Commander said I had to come and…apologise?” he said, almost a question, as if wondering if that was the right word to use.

“Right, uh, no problem.” You nodded. “People aren’t nice to you, it’s natural to be wary, I understand.”

He nodded, opting not to speak.

A part of him did feel bad. You’d only tried to be nice, something he’d prayed for every single day, but the second he got what he wanted, those voices nagged in his head. He found it hard to believe your intentions were pure.

After all, you were everything he wanted to be, and he was coincidentally paired with you for this mission.

It was bullshit.

You stood there, twiddling your thumbs anxiously under his gaze, until he moved swiftly, stalking back the way he came. It left you dumbfounded for a moment, until the sound of Soap and Ghost calling you back on the tablet caused your eyes to roll, and you shut the door.

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