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dr-felitas · 2 days

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you could have anyone you want - aventurine

synopsis: sometimes you can't help but wonder why aventurine chose you, out of all people, as his lover.

pairing: aventurine x reader | fluff with vv light angst, hurt/comfort, mention of habits such as peeling of skin and biting your nails | wc: 674 ; drabble

a/n: i feel like this is a bit choppy, sorry in advance </3

“aventurine, why’d you choose me as your lover?”

you glance over to where aventurine currently is. his right arm is loosely draped over the back of the velvety arm chair as he swipes through his inbox, archiving old mails and then tending to the newly received ones before shooting you a look of concern.

“how’d you think of that now?” he laughs quietly and the corners of his mouth slightly quirk up at your question. did he not make it obvious enough, that you’re the only one for him? the thought makes him flinch, if there is one thing aventurine would never want it’s you feeling unworthy.

“and.” he hesitates. his breath is slightly ragged, as he starts to pick at the skin of his digits on his left hand - a habit he does when he’s nervous. the loose skin bothers him, he wants to rip it off fiercely. it hurts, but what hurts more, is seeing you anxious - it makes his heart ache.

he gulps before reluctantly elaborating. “is it bothering you?” his words are draped in utter solicitude and his eyebrows are furrowed as he bites the insides of his lips firmly while studying your face for any signs of uncertainty. “like profoundly bothering you?” he asks softly.

the insides of his lips are bleeding and he can feel the bitter taste of iron seeping into his mouth. the thin layer of skin above his finely trimmed nails is gone, he peeled it off. he no longer needs to bite his nails though, neither when he was nervous or in times of need, when he was starving. it’s impolite and viewed as disgusting. (he can still remember the earthy and foul taste of dirt that was covered beneath the nail beds - somewhat nostalgic; somewhat awful.)

but does it really matter when it comes to you? (has any pain ever mattered when it came to you?” - no.”)

“no, it's just curiosity.” you lie through gritted teeth as you try to maintain a somewhat felicitous expression, forcing an awkward smile that falters at the corner of your mouth, onto your face.

“there’s nothing that i detest more than lying. you know that.” he reminds you bitterly. (lies are unfulfilled promises, vows that weren’t ever kept, empty words.) he gets up to where you’re at, comfortably lying your back against the headboard and softly stroking one of the critters the two of you recently adopted. the small critter only purrs in response to your tender touches, nestling against your body as you continue to pet it.

the mattress slightly dips as aventurine sets his hand, followed by his body, down. “please, tell me what’s wrong.” he pleads as he holds out his hand, placing it near your hand, not going further than touching your fingertips. (he’ll let you decide if you want to hold onto his hand - if you give him permission to touch your delicate body.)

don't lie to me, please.

“aventurine it’s just that.” your voice slightly breaks. “it’s just that i don’t feel worthy of being your love - worthy of your love and adoration, in general.” you admit in a hushed tone as you slowly snake your hand towards his, intertwining the two of them. instantly, almost by habit aventurine quickly laces your fingers together, tightly entwining your hand with his.

“what makes you think that?” belittling or invalidating your feelings is the least he’d want to do, so he carefully squeezed your hand, not once or twice but thrice. it’s become a small pattern the both of you do when the other is nervous, telling them that they’re here. it’s a sign of reassurance.

“you could have anyone you want.” your admission is no louder than a whisper and aventurine needs to make sure that he’s not hearing the wrong things.

him being able to have his way with anyone he’d want? isn’t it quite the contrary? you’re everything aventurine isn’t, everything he admires in a person - everything he’d wish to be.

“that's funny. i’ve always thought the same about you.”

azul azul AZUL!!!! @azullumi something dedicated to (y)our lovely honey blonde uhm guy!! yeah... haha... ANYWAY. in the past month you've helped me a lot in my writing but also like mental/developing journey as a teenager. the words you tell me, the experiences you recall (like you being in the hospital - LIKE WHAT), the warm vibe you give off - they make me feel at ease, they make me feel seen and understood, they make me smile. i think i often tell you (in those notes) the same things, but they're utmost important for me to mention because i just want you to know how special you're to me and not just your words. you, yourself are very special to me. i'm very very fond of you, just so you know. i often think to myself "oh azul would like this." "azul would laugh so hard at this." etc. but i also often think about you and your words, i get so happy when i see your messages popping up on my screen i try to answer them asap because who knows when you'll be gone?!??! (NOT IN A DEAD KIND OF SENSE BUT OMFG MAKE UR DISCORD STATUS ON, STOP BEING ON INVISIBLE.) i often recall your words and the advice you give me, it makes me smile but another thing that also makes me smile is your smile. i'm pretty sure i've already told you this once but your smile is so bright, so bright it rivals the rays of sunshine that light upon us. perhaps you're my sun, my blessing that came along the way and makes the cold and hard days easier for me. melting the snow that hid me from the many things unbeknownst to me and revealing yourself to me. just you. whom else do i need? /j/lh. i love you a lot user azullumi <3

#—stellaronhvnters.#felis-files #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail fluff #hsr fluff #aventurine x reader #aventurine fluff #aventurine headcanons #honkai star rail #aventurine imagines

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felixknow · 22 hours

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Felix + seχsomnia drabble

Contains sexual activity while one party is asleep, including dry humping and masturbation. Consent is mandatory and consent is sexy. This story is fictitious and does not reflect behaviour that is appropriate or acceptable in reality.

Felix had fallen asleep an hour ago.

At first he was talking to you about the issue he'd had with his new PC build, his arms locked tightly around your waist as he nestled his nose into your hair at the back of your head. Then his already deep voice began to lull deeper and drawl slower until you could feel his soft breath against your shoulder.

"Felix?" you'd asked softly, trying to peek at him over your shoulder without bumping heads. "Did you fall asleep?" But he didn't respond.

You tried to sleep for a little while, but something about his body pressed so closely to yours kept you alert and awake. It wasn't the first time you'd shared a bed with a friend, and it wasn't the first time you'd cuddled with Felix, but somehow this felt different. Sleeping in Felix's arms was a deeper level of intimacy than you'd had with him prior.

And things had escalated only moments ago when you felt a growing pressure against your butt. You didn't realize what it was at first, merely thinking that your body was getting sore from lying in the same position without moving for so long, but no-- Felix sighs softly and shifts in his sleep, and you feel the distinct outline of his boner pressed against your body.

You'd be lying to yourself if you claimed to be unaffected. You felt a twinge of interest deep within yourself solely at the weight of his bulge behind you. Now with his sighs becoming more frequent as his hips gently start to rock against yours, you're getting wet.

It's time to move-- you know it is. It's only right to either get away from him or to wake him up, but for some reason you can't move. Maybe you selfishly enjoy the attention, or maybe your hormones have kicked in and your rational brain can't win this battle anymore.

Regardless, you end up arching your back just a little, letting him unknowingly hump your ass as he becomes more vocal, moaning softly against your neck. Your hand slips into your pajama shorts and your fingers easily slide between your labia as your wetness has only been increasing as Felix continues to use you in his sleep.

You bite your lip hard trying to muffle your soft whimpers, but when Felix tightens his arms and forces your body closer to his as he seeks more friction, you moan softly.

You look at him over your shoulder again to make sure he's still asleep, and his eyes are tightly shut, his eyebrows furrowed together and his mouth lazily open.

"Mmm," he moans softly as his dick slides against the cleft of your ass. You're throbbing and desperate for any kind of attention on your pussy right now, but waking him up isn't an option and getting out of bed to get a toy would ruin the fun.

If we weren't wearing clothes right now would he fuck me in his sleep?

The thought is enough to make your fingers rapidly circle your clit, chasing a quick and messy orgasm. Then you'll get up. Yeah, then you'll wake Felix up and pretend he wasn't doing anything to you.

Your hips twitch and buck forward into your hand, and Felix's hips keep stirring against you from behind. His low moans are filthy enough to make you moan softly back, selfishly wishing your friend was awake to fuck you properly.

You don't last much longer after Felix sleepily mutters "fuck" and his face presses into your neck. He partially rolls onto you, making you move so you're somewhat on your stomach, still somewhat on your side. He's fully humping you now, panting and whining, and your climax hits you hard.

"Fuck, Felix," you moan, burying your face into the pillow to muffle the sound. You gasp, writhing, grinding backwards against his hard-on and forward against your hand as you come.

Several minutes later, when your orgasm has passed and you've slipped your hand out of your shorts and sucked your arousal off your fingers, you finally try to pry Felix's arms off your waist. His grinding against you slows and finally stops when his arms unlock from around you.

When you crawl out of bed and stand, you turn to look at him and are barely surprised to see his wide eyes and red face.

"What, um," he clears his throat and tries to subtly shift so his boner isn't as obvious under the blanket. "What time is it?"

"Dunno," you say, glancing at his crotch as you slide your two messy fingers back into your mouth suggestively. You shrug and turn away toward the door, but he calls out for you.

"Wait... Do you maybe want to lay back down...?"

masterlist

I didn't mean to post this today but the draft published itself so here we are.

#felix x reader #felix smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #lee felix x reader #felix lee x reader #lee Felix smut #stray kids smut #skz smut

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ohlawdthebirds · 3 days

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Ace In The Hole

Platonic!141 x Gn! and Asexual!Reader

Huge thank you to @groguspicklejar for letting me turn her drabble into a full fic. You can find the drabble here.

TW: Nothing huge, slight NSFW because sex is mentioned in this fic.

Synopsis: Price is fed up with how much Soap and Gaz sleep around. He's at his wits end until you come up with a solution.

And credit to @cafekitsune for these gorgeous dividers.

FREE PALESTINE FOREVER!!!!

Captain John Price was a lot of things: a respected member of the armed forces, a diligent leader, and an overall powerhouse of a man. He’d survived weeks of bootcamp, hailstorms of bullets, and targets on his life at every given turn. That all being said, he found himself wondering where he went wrong in life. When did he, captain of an elite task force, become mediator for his subordinates’ squabbles?

Soap and Gaz sat in front of him, petulant as toddlers, arguing over their latest paramour. The two of them shared a barracks room and were arguing over a “sleepover schedule” so that all of their “needs” were being met. From what Price had gathered, they currently had no set schedule, leaving them walking in on each other while with their barrack bunny of the week.

Not for the first time, John Price considered an early retirement.

“Ye cannae take the whole week, ye bampot!” Soap was indignant over Gaz’s proposed schedule, one that would give him Monday through Thursday, leaving Soap with Friday and Saturday. Sundays were off limits. Even God rested.

“Ah’m no lettin’ ye keep the lass to yerself. Isnae fair now innit?” He cried.

“Fair? You want the bird all to yourself, then? As I recall, you were balls deep in her most of last week. Nearly had to pry you out of her, you arse!” Gaz tossed back.

It was no secret that the two of them were sluts. Whores, even. John “Soap” MacTavish and Kyle “Gaz” Garrick had a penchant for sleeping around. They’d bedded no less than half their battalion, bedded a fair number of civilians during their leaves, and even bedded each other on a few occasions. Price would be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed. But with these conquests came the inevitable: arguing over shared partners and said partners sometimes fighting over who got to sleep with whom. It was ridiculous, really.

They continued on until Price decided he was actively losing brain cells. He slammed his hands on the desk and stood from his chair. Two of his best and brightest froze in their seats, eyes wide as they stared at him.

“Right then, is there any particular reason you lot felt the need to have this discussion in my office? Clearly you two don’t have enough to keep you busy. Seems I’ll have to change that.”

Soap and Gaz loudly protested, voices overlapping each other’s. Price was gearing up to distribute both a mountain of paperwork and multiple laps around the building when a knock came from his office door. He fixed Soap and Gaz with a piercing stare that silenced them, before calling out for whomever knocked to come in. You stepped in, brows furrowed over the yelling you heard earlier.

“Everything okay in here, sir?”

Price nodded gruffly. “These two were done anyways. Boys, you’re dismissed.”

Once Price declared something there was no pushing back on it. The man was immovable once he made up his mind.

The two sergeants decided it was best to cut their losses then and there and continue their argument back in the barracks. They greeted you on their way out, Gaz gently clapping you on the shoulder and Soap bumping fists with you. Price sat back behind his desk and retrieved a cigar from a drawer.

“I thought you were on leave today?” the captain said.

“Still am,” you replied, “Just wanted to make sure nothing came up before I left out.”

Price shook his head. “You’re all good, kid. See you Monday.”

You grinned and nodded. You were about to move towards the door but paused, turning to face Price. “Captain, I know it’s none of my business, truly, but I overheard what Soap and Gaz were arguing about before I came in. I think I could potentially help you out here.”

Price’s brow furrowed. You continued, “You know how competitive those two get, right? Why not use that against them? Make a bet to see who can go the longest without sleeping with anyone.”

Price ran a hand over his moustache as he considered. It wasn’t a bad plan. It was certainly one that had potential.

“Could work, certainly. But you know they won’t just accept a bet without a good prize, right?”

A smirk crossed your lips. “Of course, Cap, that’s where this gets interesting.” You leaned forward, eyebrows raised. Price indulged you, leaning forward himself.

“I enter this little competition. A third person will ensure they won’t try cheating, since they’ll have to keep themselves accountable. The winner not only gets to decide on whatever weird schedule thing they’ve got going on, provided all partners consent of course, but they also get dibs on the good seat in the chopper on our next mission.”

Price sat back in his chair, mulling it over. “Knew there was a reason we recruited you. Ace, you might have just saved me a weekend’s worth of headaches. I’ll inform those two gits.”

You grinned. This would certainly be interesting, especially since no one knew you had quite the “ace” up your sleeve.

It wasn’t a secret that you were asexual, it just wasn’t something that came up often. You never officially came out to the 141, deeming it unnecessary. When asked whether you were dating, you’d brush off the questions by answering that you weren’t all that interested. When prompted further if anyone on base had caught your eye, you’d respond that you were too busy. These things were true in a sense; being a sniper for the 141 certainly kept you busy and even during your downtime you found yourself preoccupied with whatever hobby you’d decided to indulge in that week or hanging out with your teammates. You lived a full life and considered dating relatively low on your list of priorities. There was also something deeply hilarious about your callsign being “Ace”, though it was referencing just how skillful you were with a sniper rifle. Entering this contest wasn’t anything difficult for you. In fact, you thought it would be interesting to see how your teammates would rise to the challenge.

The first week after Price announced the challenge was probably the funniest week of your life. Soap and Gaz were indignant, which you expected, but they accepted the challenge, nonetheless. When Price revealed that you were also in the running, they made it a point to corner you at the shooting range. You were reloading your gun when they walked in. Soap was the first to approach you, striding forward with his arms crossed.

“So, Price told us yer the one who proposed this whole contest, aye? Fir wye?” he asked.

You placed the gun down and turned to fully face your teammates. “’Why?’” you repeated back, “Because the two of you were causing chaos on base and Price was ready to assign you cleaning duty for the rest of your careers. If anything, you should be thanking me.”

“Well, we’re letting you know that we’ve accepted the challenge. That heli seat is mine,” Gaz said. After his incident from last year, Gaz made it a point to sit as far away from the helicopter door as possible.

“That’s fine by me,” You turned and picked the gun back up, “Though, I’m sure this’ll be easy.”

Gaz cocked an eyebrow at you. “And what makes you say that?”

“Oh, nothing in particular. Just excited to see how this’ll go.” You cocked the gun and aimed it, firing off a round into the center of the target paper.

After finishing at the gun range, you headed towards the canteen to grab lunch. It wasn’t until you’d grabbed your food and began to look for your teammates that you heard laughter bubbling up around the canteen. You ignored it, moving towards the back table where Ghost currently occupied a seat. Ghost didn’t acknowledge you when you sat down, his eyes trained just past your shoulder. Your brows furrowed and you quickly followed his line of sight, turning back towards the door. The moment your eyes locked onto Soap and Gaz you nearly fell out of your chair in shock.

They were dressed as nuns, and from what you could tell, they were wearing legitimate nun habits instead of cheap costumes from Halloweens past. They strode forward, faces solemn and hands folded in prayer. Soap fiddled with a rosary his mother had given him on his first deployment. They approached your table, made the sign of the cross, and sat down. Ghost shot incredulous looks at the both of them.

“What’s all this, then? Halloween come early?” He asked.

“We’ve taken a vow of chastity, Lt. The ol’ Johnny and Kyle are no more. We’ve devoted ourselves to prayer and abstinence. We’re men o’ the cloth now,” Soap replied.

“Shoulda’ taken a vow of silence,” Ghost tossed out, digging his fork into whatever mystery meat the canteen had slapped on his tray.

You and Kyle didn’t bother holding back your chuckles.

“You do realize the nun habits are unnecessary, right? Price never said you had to wear them.” You said.

“Yes, but this shows that we’re serious about this challenge,” Kyle piped up.

You fixed him with a deadpan stare. “There’s absolutely nothing serious about your current get-up. But okay.”

The rest of lunch passed without much else happening, save for the occasional snort of laughter from other personnel.

The second week was just as nonsensical as the first. You knew the terrible two were up to no good when jangling and clanking noises came from them as they walked into Price’s office. The men sat, albeit quite stiffly, and tried their hardest to ignore Price’s hard glare.

“What’s all that ruckus?” Price growled out.

Soap had the nerve to look as though his captain were speaking in riddles. “Ah’ dunno what yer on about Cap, we’ve done nothin’ wrong. Right Gaz?”

Gaz at least had the decency to look embarrassed. You placed down the file you were examining. “What’s all that clanking you two have got going on?”

Soap wasted no time in standing up and yanking down his pants. You were met with the sight of a leather and metal thong with a padlock over the crotch. A chastity belt. The man was wearing an honest-to-God chastity belt.

The room was stunned into silence. Gaz hung his head in shame. It only took you a moment to realize he was wearing the same contraption. Ghost was the first to break the silence.

“Those come with keys?”

“Why Lt? You lookin’ to unlock me?” Soap smirked at Ghost, still a flirt despite the clear restrictions on him.

“I’m lookin’ to throw those keys out the window,” Ghost replied dryly. You caught Price trying to stifle his laughter behind his fist.

“Do those hurt?” you asked.

“Nah, but they do pinch a bit. Mostly awkward to walk around in,” Gaz said.

Price stood from his desk and passed over more files. “If you’re all well and done, Laswell’s got a few updates from last week. Give these a read.”

You had to admit, there was something comical about reading over confidential information while knowing two men in the room had actual chastity belts on. Price soon dismissed you all back to whatever tasks you had on base. You headed to the gym with Ghost right alongside you. Soap and Gaz clanked out the door and down the hall.

“How long d’you think they’ll keep this up?” You asked once you were in the gym, scooting yourself underneath the bench press. Ghost shrugged, adding more weights to the bar.

“Depends on how just how committed they are to this whole thing. Though I’m sure they’ll break soon,” he answered.

“What makes you say that?” Your hands reached up to the bar, readying yourself to lift the weights.

“Just a feeling. Adjust your grip, you’ll kill yourself otherwise.”

“No, seriously, what makes you say that?” You gripped the bar, raising up and lowering it to your chest before raising it back up again.

“On the field, those are some of the smartest men I know. On base? Barkin’ mad, the both of ‘em. Surprised they even lasted this long.”

You racked the weights above your head once your set was finished. “You’re probably right. But you have to admit, this has been a pretty entertaining two weeks.” You looked up at Ghost, who seemed to be deep in thought.

“Why’d you join this contest anyways?” He asked.

You sat up and turned to him. “Because I knew it’d be an easy win. I don’t exactly…ah, well, I figured it’d be fun to see how things played out.”

Ghost grunted in reply. “Fair enough. Now give me twenty more reps.”

You groaned as you made your way back under the bar.

As it turned out, Ghost was right. The third week was when things reached their breaking point. You were on the hunt for a missing knife, one you’d lent Gaz a few days back. Ghost’s words replayed in your mind; were the sergeants reaching their breaking point? Would they soon throw in the towel?

You approached Soap and Gaz’s barrack, fist raised to knock, when you heard a noise that froze your fist mid-air. There was the sound of rustling and grunting. You jumped back from the door.

There was no way…unless?

You stepped forward again, rapping your knuckles against the wood. All sounds behind the door stopped. You were about to knock again when the door swung open.

You came face to face with Gaz, his eyes blown wide and his chest heaving.

“Gaz? You alright? Why are you so flushed?”

Your eyes caught sight of a bruise on the column of his throat. In fact, there were multiple bruises. Before he could raise his shirt to cover them, you yanked down the collar.

“Hold it, what’s this? What’s this, Gazzy-boy?! You get attacked by over-enthusiastic mosquitoes?!”

Gaz swatted your hands away. “N-no, this is just-! I burned myself earlier!”

Ignoring his protests you shouldered past him into the room, where you were met with the sight of Soap trying to pull on clothes as fast as humanly possible. You paused in the middle of the room and inhaled deeply. The air stunk of sweat and lust. Soap, having wrangled himself into pants, tried to approach you.

“Listen Ace, this isnae wit ye think it is. We were just havin’ a chat, Gaz’n ah. ”

You turned to him with a grin stretching from cheek to cheek. “Oh really? Because I think you two were having more than just a chat. And I think I just won the bet. And this-” You whipped out your phone and snapped a picture of the two of them, clothes disheveled, and skin marked with hickeys, “Is enough to prove it!”

With that you turned on your heel and booked it out the door, flying down the corridor and across the building towards Price’s office. Gaz and Soap ran after you, yelling for you to stop. The door to Price’s office nearly flew off the hinges when you barged in, phone held out in front of you. Price leveled you with a glower.

“This better be good, sergeant, otherwise you’re runnin’ laps for the next hour.”

“Oh, this is better than good, Captain, this is great.” You upped your phone’s brightness and slapped it on his desk. Price leaned over, squinting at the screen. It took only a moment for him to register what he was staring at before his eyes widened. Soap and Gaz barreled into the room, out of breath and speaking over each other.

“Cap, isnae wot ye think-!”

“Ace is framing us! We weren’t-!”

Price's face darkened. He stood from his desk, your phone in his hand.

“You fools couldn’t last 3 weeks?”

The room went dead silent, and you swore the temperature dropped a little. For a moment you wondered if you made a fatal mistake.

Price stalked forward, nearly towering over the three of you.

“Ace, you’ve won the bet. But I’ve just realized that we only discussed the reward and not the punishment for this. Any ideas?” He turned to you and handed your phone over.

Gaz and Soap shot you pleading looks, silently begging for you to be merciful. And for a moment you wondered if you should make them suffer, make them writhe. But in a moment of mercy, you decided against it.

“You know, I’m impressed that these two were able to find those nun habits and chastity belts. And such high quality too! You think they can find maid costumes?”

Price’s face lit up with the sick delight. “Oh, I’m sure they’ll manage. And I’m sure they’ll wear ‘em for the next three weeks too.”

Soap and Gaz’s faces were masks of pure shock. It was at that moment that Ghost walked into the office, a cup of tea in one hand and a file in the other. He stared at the scene in front of him, turned, and walked back out.

You were wrong. The weeks during the bet weren’t the funniest of your life. It was truly the weeks after that took the cake.

As per your request, Gaz and Soap procured maid outfits, complete with fishnet stockings and kitten heels. They were met with raucous laughter everywhere they went. The only one with a modicum of shame was Gaz, and even then, you caught him strutting his stuff when he passed you in the halls. Soap was happy to be back to normal. He even claimed that the costume was a hit with his partners that liked role-playing.

You saddled up next to Ghost in the rec room one night, thanking him when he brought down your favorite tea from the shelf. The two of you prepared your drinks in companionable quiet. Ghost turned to you, spoon halting in his cup.

“I would say congrats on winnin’ that bet, but I figured you would.”

You huffed out a gentle laugh. “Thanks, Lt.”

Ghost paused for a moment, seeming almost sheepish.

“You, uh…you never finished what you were saying, back when we were in the gym. Said you ‘didn’t exactly' and then you trailed off.”

“Oh, I can’t believe you remembered that. Yeah, I just…um…basically I don’t experience dating and relationships the same way everyone else does.”

“What d’you mean by that?”

You stopped stirring your tea. A part of you wondered if Ghost would understand, if he’d be supportive. You knew the man well enough that he wouldn’t ridicule you, but not everyone was understanding. It often felt like being asexual was a fringe thing. You sucked in a deep breath. Regardless of anyone’s feelings, you were asexual. It was real and anyone who said otherwise could get a mouthful of your boots.

“I’m asexual. Don’t really experience sexual attraction, y’know? Like, when you see someone others deem “hot” or “attractive” or whatever and want to have sex with them? I don’t understand that, and that desire doesn’t really happen to me. It doesn’t mean I don’t have a libido, its just never directed towards any one particular person. It’s a whole spectrum.”

You ended your ramble with a sip of tea.

“Oh, so that’s what it’s called? Didn’t realize there was a name for it,” Ghost muttered. You stiffened, cup halted in midair.

“When’d you figure that out?” Ghost asked.

“Kinda knew I was different when I began faking crushes on people back in school. And anytime those “crushes” reciprocated, I was weirded out by it. I did have real crushes, but those came a bit later. I’ve dated before, and thankfully my partners were understanding. I even had sex once! Just to try it out. It was…y’know, it was fine but I’m still definitely asexual.” You trailed off with a nervous laugh. “Sorry for the ramble, but whenever people ask, I try to explain everything, so I don’t have to keep answering questions.”

“I appreciate the honesty,” Ghost said. He cleared his throat. He seemed stuck between wanting to ask more and wondering if he was asking too much. In the end, you looked over and said: “I have a few books on it if you ever want to read up more on the subject. They helped me out a lot.”

Ghost said nothing, only nodding. He gently clinked your cup with his before he turned and headed towards the door. He stopped at the door frame and looked back over his shoulder.

“Hey Ace?”

You sipped more of your tea.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

You smiled.

“Anytime, Ghost.”

#super happy with how this came out; ghost and reader ace realnesssss #task force 141 x reader #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #captain john price #abby anderson x reader #ace! ghost ftwwwww

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wardenswateringhole · 2 days

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I would love a little drabble about taking care of a sick Ingo (BW Ingo or PLA Ingo, not picky!). He'd hate being unable to take care of the reader but he secretly likes being taken care of, even if he doesn't want to admit it at first. ;w;

(While I do have something already written here, I think this does call for a couple of more flavorful bits. The rolling storms and pollen allergies actually helped in writing this one. lol.)

SUBWAY BOSS INGO

Ingo groaned as he tried to get out of bed. His head was heavy and muscles were sore. His voice was distorted from nasal congestion. Ingo still rose, slowly and painfully. His uniform was put on slowly as he braced himself against the edge of the bed. A loud sneeze sent him tumbling backward onto the bed and brought you running into the room. He was a sight. Sprawled spread eagle on the bed with his shirt buttoned lopsided and his pants on one leg still.

He flailed weakly like a turtle attempting to right itself after being flipped onto it’s shell. You already had your phone out and was calling Emmet. Ingo would not be coming into work today. Emmet read you loud and clear despite Ingo’s slurred protests in the background.

You helped Ingo undress and get back into bed as he continued to complain and whine. He was fine! You were overreacting! He needed to get to work! People depended on him to get things done! He was tucked in gently, not strong enough to actually fight you. You shushed him and rubbed his fevered forehead. He seem to almost purr and lean into the gesture.

“Does you head hurt?” You asked. He nodded silently, still savoring the sensation of your hand massaging his skull. You chuckled over how that was all it took to shut him up.

You left him to rest and with promises of soup and medicine. Ingo protested weakly once more, much like a child who had to miss a much anticipated field trip. His head was laid back limply against the pillow and his eyes were drifting closed before you even left the room.

You woke him later with soup you had made and medicine. You helped him sit up and sat the food tray in front of him. He knocked back the small cup of bright orange syrup before diving into the soup. You wondered how that didn’t make the soup taste bad.

“I can’t taste anything anyway…” He answered with his blunted goopy voice. “But I appreciate this very much dearest…”

You turned on a show you both liked and sat with him as he ate. Soon the bowl was empty and put aside to make room for cuddling. He grunted against your chest. “I shouldn’t be near you… I could get you sick…”

You rubbed your fingers through his hair and shushed him once more. “It would be worth it.”

Ingo’s eyes opened and looked up at you. They looked so tired and pitiful but still shined with that familiar look of love he would give you all the time. “Thank you taking care of me, my love. I will be returning the favor ten fold later.”

He put his head back down and wrapped his arms around your torso tighter. “As soon as the room stops spinning…”

----

WARDEN INGO

This could not be happening. Calaba had given him a look as soon as he began sniffling. Ingo had insisted he was fine and went on about his duties, despite Calaba warning him he would regret not resting then and there.

He regretted not resting then and there.

He rose at the sound of knocking at his door. That’s right, you were supposed to come by today. You were both going to go enjoy a day by the river. He wrapped blanket around his shoulders and answered the door.

The man looked like death warmed over. His normally bright and alert eyes looked like they were trying to slide off his face. Despite his insistence that he was fine, you managed to force your way into his home and ordered him back to bed.

Ingo awoke suddenly. He didn’t even realize he had drifted off. His home was filled with the aroma of warm food, which he could only get a faint hint of. But he recognized it. It was something you had told him was a favorite comfort food. His stomach grumbled in anticipation for the food, but some part of him felt bad. He was the one to usually cook for you…

It wasn’t long before you had a bowl ready for him. You served him his meal and took yours as well. A book was taken from a small shelf. A book you had both been enjoying together. You read to him between bites as he ate. Your voice was nice to listen too, and the embellishments you put on the descriptions of the scene were amusing, silly voices and all. Something bothered him though. He was usually the one to read to you…

The food was finished and dishes cleaned. Ingo hated watching you clean everything without being able to help out at all. Any effort to help was met with a stern warning that he would lose his legs if he got out of that bed. All he could do was watch as you cleaned the dishes and tidied up his living area. That was his job, not yours.

“Dearest. Please…” His voice warbled out, weak and croaky from sickness. “Come here.”

You did as he asked. He took your hand and rubbed his cheek into your knuckles. “I love you to the moon and back. Thank you for taking care of me so well…” His face looked up at you so pitifully. “But please… take a break… Join me for some rest?”

You couldn’t say no to such a sad pleading request. He scooted over to give you room. You both spent the rest of the evening cuddled in bed and just enjoying one another’s company. Ingo would never say it out loud, but he felt that was better than a trip to the river any day.

#wardenwrites #Ingo #Subway Boss Ingo #Warden Ingo #Pokemon #Pokemon Black and White #Pokemon Black #Pokemon White #PLA #Pokemon Legends Arceus #Writing requests

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astroluvr · 2 years

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fighting the urge to write another oc harlow kid, but it wouldn't JUST be a harlow kid if u catch my drift

#idk if i would want to do standalones like noah #or make it a continuous thing with drabbles #BUT im still barely halfway done w the other jack series and i want that to be out by next month #so maybe i could do a blurb and let y'all decide bc i don't think i could make this a one and done type deal #also bc i still have other shit i need to write for this blurb dump 😭 and i wanna be done with that by next week too

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steddieas-shegoes · 4 months

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steve pov

He felt the pull at the same point every night.

As soon as he'd managed to get himself into the shower, he thought about him.

He looked at his bottle of shampoo and thought about how it wasn't next to Steve's.

He looked at the body wash he shared with the guys and wondered if he would ever get to steal from Steve's body wash again.

As Eddie got into bed, he listened to the guys sitting at the front of the shitty tour bus they could barely afford joking around, planning their futures as rock stars.

He tried to think like them, tried to think about the future he always wanted. He was so close. They were so close.

They were recording their second album. Their first was barely professional, barely even got produced, but this one. This one would change everything for them.

The more time they spent recording it, the more Eddie realized he didn't want to be singing into a microphone if Steve wasn't there watching him with that look.

The look that said 'I want you to kiss me until we can't breathe when you get off stage' and 'I know every song is about me already, but let me help you write a million more' and 'I love you, I love you, I love you.'

The look that was fading from his memory with every passing day.

If he could go back to the conversation that led to this, he wouldn't have it at all. He'd stay with Steve, he'd tell the guys he needed some more time, maybe they could just go on a state-wide tour of some bars and see what happens. Maybe Steve would warm up to the idea of leaving.

Or maybe they were meant to share this distance, to grow apart like this, to yearn for each other in ways they didn't even when Eddie was almost dead on the ground of another universe and Steve was begging any god that would listen to just 'save him, take me, he can't die.'

And maybe tomorrow Eddie would call him. Maybe tomorrow he would ask if Steve wanted to come to a show.

Maybe tomorrow he could find a way to get that face looking at him from the front row or backstage again.

Maybe tomorrow he would get to admit to Steve that his dream doesn't mean shit if he isn't under the same lights as him.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #drabble #angst with an ambiguous ending #but you guys know if i were to continue it they'd kiss and make up and be in love #anyways i'm gonna keep being in my feels i guess tonight #sorry to steve and eddie and steve and eddie only #post breakup

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kerrosin · 28 days

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Treebark week 2024

5. hair/neck/lips

Martyn is falling asleep when he feels a light kiss on the lips. He opens his eyes to see Ren staring at him.

“Ew, gross! My liege, do you remember what I’ve done with this mouth recently?”

Ren kisses him again, and for a moment they are lost in the feeling of being warm, together, alive. Finally, Martyn breaks the kiss and giggles, looking into Ren's red eyes.

“What's so funny?”

“Nothing. But wasn’t it our first kiss ever?”

Ren bursts out laughing, his tail tapping Martyn’s leg under the blanket, and it’s like nothing bad ever happened to them.

#...and one more because i couldn't choose one #treebarkweek #treebark #treebarkweek2024 #trafficshipping #yeah this one is...#suggestive #also idk if it makes a lot of sense because it meant to be a continuation of my other fic #but i like it so i WILL post it #ker's things #drabble #100 words drabble

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lunarmoves · 1 month

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while i'm very very grateful that people like my drabbles, please please stop asking me for a part two. thank you <3

#it reads as very demanding and it does not make me want to write :/#like thank u for reading it but. dont ask me for a continuation #i only have so much time to dedicate to writing bc im busy with school/work and i have more things i want to write and release so i cannot-#-spend all my time writing part twos to all those drabbles #im sorry the endings don't satisfy you. just don't pester me about it :( i'll write continuations when/if im inspired #and even if you want a part two you can idk send me an ask and i'll be happy to respond with something quick #tl;dr: stop treating me as a content creator and not a person #shut up shay!!

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wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart · 1 year

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They learn quickly that the monsters are sensitive to sound.

He gets used to talking quietly. To always watch his step and always be aware of his surroundings. Someone had the idea to raid the schools and communicate exclusively using blackboard and chalk. Hawkins has never been so silent, but that doesn't bother him too much. He grew up in the silence, after all.

What bothers him is that his hands won't stop trembling. He never had the prettiest handwriting, but the chicken scratch he produces now is barely readable. Worse, he needs for-fucking-ever to write even a single word, only for it to not even look like english half the time.

He and Robin can communicate without words - he is truly convinced that they are living proof that soulmates are a thing - but with everyone else he has to struggle with the chalk, until he just gives up and starts talking less and less. If he died because he took too long writing smalltalk or pleasantries on the blackboard he would never live it down. He tries to convince himself that the grizzled-cool-silent-type suits him. With moderate success.

Although the whole town was literally transported into a different dimension, all adults seem to maintain a silent agreement to continue on as if nothing is wrong. They still go to work and they still need to pay for groceries and the holes and cracks in the streets are nothing more than inconveniences. He even overhears someone complaining about those, once. As if everything would be fine if the holes were only filled with cement. (oh gee, he wonders - silently as always, why did we never try that genius idea the last three times the upside down made an unwelcome visit). The only shop that has escaped the clutches of capitalism is the weapons shop.

He can somewhat understand it, the need to pretend that everything is fine. That it was all some collective nightmare that will fade with the dullness of day-to-day life. Doesn't mean he can't hate it. Though he doesn't take it as hard as the rest of the party.

It makes sense if you think about it. Robin, Nancy, the shitheads - they are smart, they could all actually go somewhere, do something with their lives. But him? Steve Harrington never had much of a future anyway, and his chances of making it out of this godforsaken town were always miniscule. No. What honestly bothers him more are his hands that won't stop shaking. You can't use a gun if you are unable to hold still and aim. You have a harder time being fast and quiet when everything takes twice as long if you don't want to drop anything. Even his beloved bat becomes less reliable, the swings weaker and his actual target always a few centimeters off. So yeah, his trembling hands are fucking inconvenient.

Gas and Water and Electricity stopped working. The first few months all of Hawkins stinks of rotting food until some teacher has the grandiose idea of distributing history books. This has the added bonus of giving everyone something to do that isn't "pretending not to be under constant panic". Water filters get classified under "weaponry" so that everyone has access without the mayor having to change the law again.

Once more, he doesn't mind too much. The only reason he used to turn on the TV was to feel less alone, and now the rest of the party basically lives in his house. He doesn't even mind having to walk the entire way to and from the lake while carrying buckets full of water: he will always be a jock at heart, and it is a great way to work out and be useful at the same time. His biggest complaint is once again his fucking hands. Water is precious, but his stupid arm won't stay still and it keeps spilling out of the bucket. Every lost drip feels like a stab in his heart, and the only reason he doesn't cry is because that would be an even bigger waste of water.

But the most stupid and embarrassing part is that this isn't even his first rodeo. He has been here before, he knows what it is like. Everyone else is living the same situations that he is. And still, his hands are the only ones that won't fucking stop trembling.

#most ppl in hawkins would be the type to continue their lives normally and refuse to wear masks during lockdown #so i applied the same logic to the apocalypse <3 #this goes out to all the awesome ppl who have the same problem #lemme tell you writing the first draft kf this was an absolute nightmare #like there are a lot of reasons im not the biggest fan of vol 2 #(besides eddie dying obvs)#but one thing i did find very cool is how the whole town got transported into the upside down #its fun to think about what that could mean for hawkins and the people there #in case it wasnt clear this is kind of an au where they just have to continue living in the upside down #you can choose if they ever make it back #or if eddie died or got turned into a vamp or whatever #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington drabble #stranger things drabble #pen.#stranger things spoilers #st s4 #st season 4

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4lph4kidz · 9 months

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idk maybe talking about my writing seems conceited for who hasn't published much of anything and hasn't finished anything as of yet, or maybe all this hand wringing is annoying, but i've written a lot of bits and pieces over the years and it's enough for me to be reasonably comfortable with the basics, you know? but working on something this long is presenting a whole other world of trouble for me and i think i accidentally put a hell of a lot more of myself into it than i meant to. so i'm feeling particularly vulnerable about it being out there and existing. it means a lot to me and that's scary!

#i know i wasn't anywhere near as annoying about publishing light headeds first chapter #obviously i cared about it and i was excited to publish something for the first time in this fandom (wow! i did it!) but its not a big deal #there are no major unknowns with it as a project. i will continue it just couldn't make up my mind about one specific thing #so now the rest of the chapters are on hold while i focus on i&i for a while #i could probably polish up and publish more of my drabbles but its mostly pretty dumb and generic aus that arent saying much of anything #maybe thats being pretentious but i want to say something with my work and like. if it's not meeting my own standards i'm not putting it ou #sorry for all the rambling. i needed to work through some stuff and talking helps #i've always had a contentious relationship with my work which is why you don't see much of it. because it's not good enough #this project is my main creative outlet right now because carpal tunnel and my work schedule have fucked up everything else for me #and like. to be honest i kind of want to destroy it. because it means something to me and it's hard and that's scary #it didn't have someone else's work attached i probably would have deleted it by now #that's a weird place to be with a creative project #anyway if you want to read my dumb bro/grandpa superhero au that started out a gag and quickly devolved into tragedy then let me know ig

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darkspace7 · 5 months

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[That Which Protects The Falling Rain] Pt.1

[A Sort of Synopsis, if you will]: Okay so the other day I was just faffing about and watching some videos discussing some of the Bleach Brave Soul character design choices as you do and then I got to thinking about how there were so few decently good fics featuring our good man Ishida and then that somehow led into wondering why there weren’t hardly any detailing the situations of how one would even come about to wear those alternate costumes in the first place and then that somehow devolved into contemplating time/dimension travel and fusion (as in literal fusion –not crossovers- although those are nice too…) fics and what-ifs involving rather creative semi-roll swaps and we all know that canon is basically just a suggestion at this point so anyway-

Here’s my-

“Through An Exceedingly Convoluted Series Of Events Spanning The Course Of About Roughly Two Weeks Uryū Ishida Gets Yeeted To An Alternate Timeline/Dimension Thing With An Imprint Of Ichigo Camping In His Soul As A Sort-Of Bastardized Zanpakutō And Now He Must Wage In Shadow Espionage Bullshit Because At This Point Aizen Is Still A Problem And Tipping Off The Quincy While Everyone’s Even Weaker Than The Timeline They Left Would Be Bad. (Also Having Two Instances Of The Almighty + Antithesis In The Same General Vicinity Is Apparently Bad For The Continued Existence Of Reality) And Somehow Not Potentially Fuck Everything Else Up Even Worse Than Last Time As Well As Try Not To Have A Complete Nervous Breakdown In The Mean Time.”

-AU…

But that’s kind of a mouthful so imma just call it [That Which Protects The Falling Rain] AU

So yeah…

As you can obviously tell from the prior blurb this is more or less canon divergent starting from the point that Ichigo got his powers back after the timeskip (which –in my completely honest opinion- was a bullshit arc anyway for a number of reasons that I refuse to go into at the moment) with the main kicker of it all being the things that happened with the whole Quincy ordeal went significantly worse off than in canon and basically a bad time was had by everyone.

[Unwind the World and Your Nightmare’s Gone]

Turns out that if you have a crumbling pillar that props up what is an already heavily destabilized world murked on top of everything else tends to accelerate the wholesale destruction of everything in existence. The first of this was quickly realized when Hueco Mundo, the Wandenreich, and the Soul Society all crashed and began to bleed into one another. This mockery of a union only served to further tip the scales to such an extreme that Hell itself –which at this point was still puttering along as the sole remaining pillar of reality- began to develop cracks in the framework before eventually just giving way entirely. And thus things started to bleed indiscriminately into the World of the Living.

Which, I don’t need to tell you, was bad news bears.

In the chaos and calamity people were dying in droves and –because the reincarnation cycle was wholly and utterly fucked- they were staying dead. The very few individuals that had been smart enough to dip when the water hit the wall or were (un)fortunate enough to dodge the first fires of the literal apocalypse managed to bunker down, sustaining themselves on the heavily overly-saturated reishi of the atmosphere as they waited for the inevitable end tailmarked on the hands of the three souls that still carried on. These three –the False King tainted with the spark of divinity, his Heir who sought to put an end to his reign, and the Hybrid who felled God Himself- who fought on even though everything and everyone they had once stood for having fallen ages before them; their hands grasping for that last pyrrhic victory because what else is there at this point?

But –much like the moon for which his blades were named- even the powers of god-slayers must wane and on the field of battle enemies will use any fault to their advantage. And so, with a decisive slice of the blade, the False King went Off With His Head and the prodigal son made his way back home like the rest of his children. But it was here that Yhwach, made a Mistake™.

For all that Ichigo Kurosaki was a hybrid of both Quincy and Soul Reaper, he was also part Hollow as well.

And Hollows are poisonous to Quincy.

But the imprudent ruler was past caring at this point -was confident he could weather the poisoning of his soul- that he just had to stop for a moment to allow the restless stubborn child to settle down and from there he could then adapt and adjust. But to do such a thing on a battlefield where there was still one other active combatant left (no matter how you have dismissed the other boy as being a non-threat at this point) was pure hubris in of itself.

Enter: Uryū Ishida.

Armed with a silver arrow crafted from the bodies of his kinsmen that he lifted from the corpse of his estranged father and the sheer and utter spite of someone who has seen every single last one of their friends and family be killed and subsequently has no more fucks to give decides in his exhausted state to pull an Ichigo and lets the fly.

It hits.

At long last, the Old King was dead.

But it wasn’t enough.

Because the being named Yhwach was a great number of things, however, unprepared was not one of them. Being able to see possibility after possibility was indeed a great boon when it came time to sketch out an action plan for such eventualities. Case in point, when faced with the surefire destruction of your own physical and spiritual being it is perhaps okay to latch on to and borrow another. And what better source than your treasonous Heir not a stone’s throw from where you currently were?

Long live the king.

Or so you thought bitch.

Turns out neither did the Quincy child nor the rebellious echo of the hybrid boy much care for his attempt at bodyjacking. So unanimously they decided to say –fuck that- and pull off their own sort of deus ex machina using Uryū’s Shrift in conjunction with Ichigo’s kind of admittedly bullshit hybridity powers to throw a wrench in things and swap the Fate of not only himself the other late teen’s echo as well so that in the end it was Ywhach who would be the one subsumed.

And by some fucking miracle, it worked.

They successfully managed to topple the Quincy King from his position to allow for Uryū to then supplant himself on the vacant throne as the King as the remainder of Ichigo’s unique spiritual signature securely subsumed the rest of Yhwach’s essence and then somehow used it to stabilize the burgeoning fuckery that was now his (and apparently Ishida’s???) soul.

Long live the King (and his new and only somewhat unwilling headmate) indeed.

Just in time for reality to start falling apart.

With the weight of the final battle having finally given way to bone-deep exhaustion he –(or, rather, was it they now? Truth be told, neither boy was entirely sure what to make of their current situation and the sheer number of existential issues that simply arose from their paradoxical state of being. But then again that sort of thing wasn’t exactly a new thing when it came to his whole impossible existence now was it? Hell, he’d had so many ‘impossibles’ tossed at him that at this point the very word was starting to lose all meaning, honestly. And this current bit of what-the-fuckery was just another layer to the botched clusterfuck of a cake now wasn’t it? ‘…Good god Kurosaki do you think you could save your little existential crisis for later? Neither of us have the energy for it and I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m pretty sure that at least one of us currently has a fucking concussion.’ No, fuck you man, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but the world’s fucking ending. This is a good as time as any, man. ‘I just want somewhere we can get a chance to rest.’)- leveraged their worn body up on unstable legs in search of an unbroken spot where they could do just that.

Sometime along the way he had noted the larger of the orange-haired hybrid’s blades among the debris and stopped to examine it. (Or rather, having sensed the echo of their wielder contained within, it had lowered itself to allow him a chance to look upon its glory. At least, that was the impression that it seemed to be giving off anyway. Yeah, like a pair of stray cats you rescued from out behind the dumpster on trash day, his Zangetsu was. But even to the end they tried to help in their own way… ‘‘Slaying Moon’ huh? What an apt name for such a blade.’ Blades. There’s two of them. Ah, that was right. But if so then where…?)

Even now, their wicked sharp edge gleamed obsidian in the light as he subconsciously let the blade rest behind in the crook of his back. Feeling the small clasp as sword seemed to latch onto his presence as if magnetic. Readjusting his glasses he glanced around and let out a soft noise when their eyes alit upon their prize.

(He did not look at the body sprawled out upon the ground as they knelt down and gently pried the shorter blade from stiff fingers. He did not look at the severed head with too blank eyes as he slid the other half of his blade carefully into the waistband of his belt.He did not look at his own corpse resting at his feet-)

He stood.

Continuing on, he trudged along aimlessly, stumbling from wreck to wreck in an attempt to avoid the ever encroaching void that slowly but surely ate at what was left of their worlds. (They decidedly ignored the shadows that lapped at their feet. The way they danced inexplicably without a clear source of light. Twisting and writhing along the rolling dark as if they were but a thousand –familiar- eyes held back behind closed lids –theirshisoursmine- as they waited there. Dreaming.)

He stumbled.

They walked on until eventually they happened upon a surprisingly stable section of what appeared the Royal Realm and what was even more astonishing was the fact that out of everyone who could’ve somehow managed to dodge the apocalypse they had the misfortune to run into Aizen of all people. And it seemed that the ex-captain was just as enthused to see them.

(Wow, yeah, no. Not surprised that you survived because you’re pretty much a damned cockroach at this point. But I am genuinely kind of surprised that you decided to stick around instead of –I don’t know- having the good sense to bail when everything started going to shit? You’d think he would. Like, scurry away to lick the wounds and that sort of shit, right? ‘Right, absolutely riveting commentary Kurosaki. Such a shame that I’m the only one who’s forced to listen to it.’ Grimace. Urgh what god did I piss off to get stuck with you assholes? ‘Probably the two we just killed.’…Ah. Right.)

“Hm, that’s certainly a pleasant expression.”

(…I wanna kick his fucking ass. ‘What? No!’ Just a single boot shoved right in his smug bondage-wrapped face. ‘No.’)

Thoroughly exasperated and just utterly done with everything and everyone at this point Uryū decided this was as good as they were going to get and sort of collapsed at the foot of the broken throne with an undignified grunt, shifting the massive knife from his back to a more comfortable spot upon his lap as to allow himself to prop their body up against a slab of rubble. The youth let out a groaning-sigh.

Aizen –having meandered over to join him- watched with a keen interest.

(The subtle shade of black bleeding into the much younger man’s sclera, the downright monstrous inferno of tainted Quincy-Reaper-Hollow reiatsu coupled with the unnatural way that the writhing shadows almost seemed to linger protectively around the bloodied child before him, and while truthfully he was rather near-sighted ((destroying his last pair of glasses in a spur of dramatic theatricality had genuinely been one of his sole regrets, especially considering later when it became wholly apparent that the hōgokyu refused to let itself be used for something as banal as correcting one’s eyesight)) he’d have to have been blinder than Kaname to miss the ease at which the other had hefted that particular blade around. Also, the singular horn was kind of conspicuous and worthy enough for him to lift a brow.)

“Your feats never cease to push the realm of possibility, why I’m honestly starting to think you don’t know the meaning of the word Kurosaki.” He watched with sharp eyes, observing how even the shadows surrounding the youth seemed to freeze. Fascinating. “Or perhaps you would prefer some other form of address more suited to the body you’re currently occupying?” A dark eye crinkled with wry amusement, “Maybe even something more befitting to that of royalty?”

(He’s not going to let this go is he? ‘Ugh, no.’ …Fuck it.)

And so the one-who-was-once-many resigned themself to a litany of awkward conversation as they waited for the world to end.

And what a back and forth it was. Some of the more notable highlights included: In depth discussions on one’s particular choice of eyewear – {“So, wait, hold on. You’re saying you actually needed those glasses and that the whole debacle with the Winter War you were essentially fighting half-blind the whole time?!”

“In the barest sense of the term, yes. Why do you seem so surprised? Did you perhaps forget that one of my compatriots was blind? It is a perfectly reasonable method to use one’s spiritual sense as a sort of complement to innate abilities during combat, as I am sure that one of your newer parts is undoubtedly already aware.”

“…Newer parts?”

“The misguided Quincy child that you once called your comrade and presumably the original owner of the patchwork monstrosity that you now call a form.”

(‘…Okay, yes, while losing your glasses during a fight does fucking suck I’m far-sighted and also mainly focused on archery so it’s not so bad but “patchwork monstrosity?” Rude, much?’)

“My, what a frightening expression.”

They flipped him off.}

–To the eventual reluctant admittance of what had occurred during their final battle versus the late Quincy King-

{it was in general agreement that the whole thing was a collective load of bullshit, however Aizen did find some note of ironic humour in the new fusion’s predicament much to said being’s annoyance.}

–To why the traitorous ex-captain was even there in the first place-

{“And where exactly would you have intended me to have gone, hm?” The man gestured broadly at the wanton destruction that surrounded them.

“Should I have squirrelled myself away like the scarce few remaining beings that tried to do so before everything fell to ruin? Don’t make me laugh. Why, I would even dare to say those poor unfortunate souls have been all but eliminated when the world pillars sang their swan song and even if they managed to survive that don’t you think the void would have consumed them much like everything else at this point?” Sōsuke leveled a dry look, letting his head fall back against the remains of a broken pillar wearily.

“So I figured this was as good as a time as any to try my hand at usurping the throne, you know, seeing as the current Soul King was indisposed.” A flicker of genuine consternation flashed across the man’s face. “But, it seems that crossing into the realm of transcendence is still not enough just so long as you’re still missing a fundamental piece of the equation.”

“Wow. So even after going through all of that you still weren’t –what- Quincy enough to take the crown? Heh, sucks to be you I guess. Wh-hey! We already have a concussion you didn’t have to throw a rock at me you ass.” With a huff, they rubbed at the new welt on their head. “Geez…”

“But seriously, I can’t believe with all that bullshit you pulled trying to get the magic death marble to make you god it couldn’t even manage it in the end.” As the hand dropped to the blade in their lap, they gave a faint scowl and then turned to face the other. “And really, what’d it even matter at this point? Figure we could use it to prop up reality –or at least what’s left of it anyway- and keep it from imploding or something?”

Aizen let out a somewhat undignified snort, “The Quincy have finally brought around your inclinations of royalty, I see. You’ve even started using the royal we. But yeah, sure, why not. Go ahead and take a stab at being the Soul King for a bit, I mean I’d say you can’t possibly be worse that what’s going on right now but somehow I think you would manage it just to spite me.”

The young being let out a snort of his own as they rolled with the bit, “No, we’d totally be an awesome Soul King. Way better than the last one and Not Unstable At All. Heck, we wouldn’t even abuse whatever the bullshit powers we had on top of everything else so we could –I don’t know- turn back time and fucking unmurder everyone. Oh! While we’re at it why don’t we try taking a crack completely unknotting that clusterfuck you guys call a politics around here. Because, honestly? Responding to every new thing that shows up on your doorstep with ‘treat it like shit’ and/or ‘try to kill it with extreme prejudice’ tends to piss people off and is probably why y’all had so many enemies.”

They nodded, sarcasm just oozing from their tone. “Yeah, all of that would be just so fun. Don’t you think?”}

Who could have foreseen that such a benignly one-off comment could have could spurred such further chaos?

(Well they probably could have. But –in their defence- they weren’t exactly firing on all cylinders at the time; what with the existential fuckery that they were still coming to terms with alongside the previously mentioned concussion that made it so when Aizen ((who had went suspiciously quiet after his little haha-funny-but-not-really joke)) proceeded to pitch the Idea™ to them it didn’t really seem to tack on as being anything worse than what the apocalypse that they were already were going through was.

But as now they found themselves trying not to squirm with a hand splayed awkwardly over the violet gem embedded in the other man’s bare chest as the other looked on with what seemed to be deep-set amusement they could not help but think to themselves: they really should’ve known better.)

(‘This is so stupid.’ There’s no way this would ever work-) Astonishingly, the gem beneath their hand began to glow.

(…Are you kidding me?)

“Huh, it seems like the hōgokyu was actually able to grant my wish after all.” The other murmured, ripping the fusion’s attention away from the entrancing glow only for them to watch as the man before them slowly began to crumble to dust before their very eyes. “Rather roundabout way of doing it though, if you ask me.” Sōsuke snorted, dark eye flicking up to meet the other’s disbelief. “Listen well Ichigo Kurosaki and Uryū Ishida, this will be the last time we meet one another as things are. Don’t squander the opportunity you’ve been given as it’s highly unlikely you will get another one.”

“…Understood.”

“Good.” The other seemed…actually kind of relieved? That was all they had time to think before his body was gone and it was their fingers clutched around the hōgokyu as it then took their wish (to fix this oh god don’t you dare drop something like this on us and then leave us aloneyou utter bastardplease I don’t want to be the last one left after everything I don’t want to be aloneand just like that there went another person that he failed to protect just like everyone elseplease I just want to fix this make it like it never happened!) and moulded it and then unwound the world from its crumbling spool, unwound them, unmade him and now he-

-Was-

but only for an instant before world reformed around himself and he was forcefully slammed into (his/their/whose?) body.

He blacked out.

#DS7's Log #[That Which Protects The Falling Rain]#Bleach Fanfiction #-carefully adds to the archive-#Ichigo Kurosaki #Uryu Ishida #Sosuke Aizen #In which the author continuously makes poor life choices and is even worse at knowing how to tag and work shit so this is your only warning #Wait so Tumblr can make strikethroughs but not underline stuff? Ugh that sucks.#Fuck it y'all are getting colours then I guess.#How the fuck did this turn into a story halfway through?#It was only supposed to be a meme drabble idea jfc... OTL #Also like lowkey Yhwach with those shadow eye-things deadass looks like a older and scruffier version of Pride from the FMA manga fr...

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aclosetfan · 2 years

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"be more careful next time. i don't want to bandage you up again" buttercup taking care of bubbles (or blossom) after a monster fight? just butters showing her love for her sisters through acts of service. thanks ily ‹3

haha, hey anon, we both agree "time" is just a concept, right? sorry it took so long :(

If you forgot this prompt is for this ask game!

content warning: vague body horror/gore, major character death (sorta?)

a/n: experimenting with writing styles, the pacing isn’t my norm.

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

"You know, forget what that huffy college advisor said, I think you'd make a great nurse!" Bubbles chirped, trying to break the nearly suffocating silence. It hung so heavy around the two of them, it felt as if someone or something was sitting on her chest, force feeding guilt and anxiety straight down her throat.

Silence aside, Bubbles was only telling the truth. First-aid was something Buttercup was apt at doing, given all the fights she had been in, and really, honestly, she should have been doing it professionally, if she didn’t have such lousy bedside manners.

Buttercup's jaw clenched and her nostrils flared as she spat out through gritted teeth, "shut up."

"I'm serious!" Bubbles protested, "Really, honestly, Butters, you'd make a great nurse."

Buttercup slammed a roll of bandages down on the tray beside her and shoot up out of her seat. She walked a few feet away and kicked over another freestanding tray, spilling its contents onto the ground.

"You know damn well that isn't what I meant!" Buttercup seethed, turning around to point a shaky finger at her.

Bubbles didn't even flinch. She sat still, taking in the angry flush running across her sister's face and the fire in her eyes before deflating.

"I know," She whispered, "I know it isn't."

Bubbles let her gaze drop to her hands. They were wrapped up in gauze, just like most of the rest of her body, making her look like some modern day mummy. If she had been human, she would have been dead, but Chemical-X, that wonderful, mysterious chemical, was one heck of a life saver! Her skin was still healing, however, burnt, bubbling, and smelling of rot and decay.

It was so...strange, how bullets bounced off her, but still left bruises, and acid did nothing to her body, but still stung, and lava was like water, but still burnt, and the sun's rays only left cumbersome sunburns, but HIM's mist, at least, in that moment, when she had lunged towards Blossom before her sister had disappeared into that dark red haze, had felt like nothing, and yet, had left her body almost beyond repair.

Her bandages were neat and tidy, Buttercup made sure of that everyday when they needed changing. The Professor had offered to do it, but her sister had insisted, and Bubbles preferred it that way. She could deal with Buttercup's anger, but the distraught, broken look in the Professor's eyes was too much to bear. It only reminded her of the things she'd rather forget, of her failures, of Blossom. Not that she was having any trouble remembering on her own.

She felt a crying sensation behind her eyes start to swell, closing her throat and stuffing up her nose, but no tears came out. She had no more to spare. It was almost a miracle. Her, Bubbles Utonium, had no more tears to spare.

For what it was worth, she gave it her best try.

Dry, heaving sobs echoed throughout the lab-turned-med bay, and Bubbles wished she could stop. It hurt to cry, but everything hurt, so it didn't make much of a difference.

"I'm sorry," She choked, sounding almost as desperate, but more borderline hysterical, "I'm so, so sorry! She—she was right there! She was right there!"

"Bubbles, wait, don't," Buttercup pleaded desperately, "don't cry."

"She's gone!" She wailed over Buttercup’s protests, thrashing around and pulling on her IVs, "She's gone! And it's all my fault!"

Firm hands carefully clutched her own, keeping her still. "Stop," Buttercup ordered, "stop. You're going to hurt yourself."

"What's that matter!" She hissed, "What does any of it matter!"

“I’ll get her back!” Buttercup yelled, her voice cracking, “I promise! I’ll get her back, now, please! Stop!”

“How!” Bubbles cried back, “How! She’s gone! I killed her!”

“I don’t know!” She shouted, her eyes shiny. Buttercup sunk down into a squat, and when she spoke again, her words came out around a half-formed sob, “I don’t know.” Buttercup cradled her head, “I almost lost both of you, please, just, please be more careful, okay? I can’t—I don’t want to bandage you up again.”

“Please,” Her sister begged, speaking into her hands.

They sat there in silence as Bubbles observed Buttercup, realizing for the first time, that the toughest out of all of them, the doer, was unable to do anything at all but fix her bandages. Her perfectly wrapped, clean bandages. It was only then that Bubbles felt her heart fill with something she had thought died along with Blossom.

It felt like love. It felt like hope. Whatever it was, she clung to it.

“Okay,” Bubbles agreed after another long, painful silence, punctuated only by Buttercup’s quiet sobs. “I’ll be more careful.”

#ppg #guess which sentence that is also a paragraph is my fave but would make anyone who appreciates grammar cry???#hm this was way sad #thats my bad #angst #if i was to continue this it would be largely inspired by the Death of Eurydice #ppg drabble #prompt game #per usual unedited #lil sister things

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