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chickensoup-4-mysoul · 2 months ago

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herculean (drrr x f!reader) - chapter 12

Chapter 12 - Temperature Rising

synopsis: you start the day with some self defense lessons with kadota and later, check on your arrangements with izaya

word count: 4,723

warnings: N/A

"but i need to know, i don't need to be shown i've gotta see it for myself, i've gotta learn it on my own i need to know if i am flesh & bone and am i still growing or full grown?,, flesh & bone - sammy rae & the friends

"Woah, Kyohei, you did all of this?"

Your voice echoes off of the walls of the oddly large bathroom. Trying to find Kyohei in this building was like navigating a labyrinth. The rest of the place was clearly unfinished, still covered in plastic tarps. You stared in wonder at the black and white checkered walls. Kyohei's perched high on some sort of ladder. He holds a black tile in his hand, coating the back of it with a gray paste before sticking it to the wall.

"Yeah, one sec. I'm almost done."

You're happy to watch as he fills in the remaining small spaces in the wall. He was clearly very skilled, making for a very satisfying spectacle. There was a certain art to it, you thought. After all, you could only imagine the thought and calculation that went into placing each and every tile. Though you had to admit, it was a pretty strange design for a bathroom. Kyohei jumps down from the latter, grunting as he stretches out his back. "Been at this for pretty long, huh?" you tease, removing your backpack and setting it down on the floor in front of you. You sit on the bottom step of the stairwell you had just descended from.

"Eh, nothing I'm not used to. What'd you bring?" He drags a small stool over with him and sits on it, right across from you. You eagerly open your backpack, rummaging through it before pulling out two plastic food containers. You hand one to him, eyes trained on his face as he opens it. Kyohei wasn't an emotionless or stoic guy, per se, but it was rare to see him express himself too openly. His posture was usually relaxed, mouth in a straight line, and eyes dulled by the shadow of his hat.

Not even the beanie could hide how his eyes widened. He was silent for a moment, staring at the contents of the container. You're holding your breath, wondering what he might say, or if he would say anything at all. One of his signature huff laughs has you internally sighing in relief. It doesn't stop there, unfolding into a chuckle, then a hearty laugh. You stop breathing again, but for a different reason. He had been happy before, sure, but like this, he looked outright joyful. You don't even care about whether or not he was laughing at you, this man was breathtaking.

You clear your throat and do your best to hide your burning face because woah you need to calm down.

"I'm sorry," he sighs, finally calming down. "I don't think I've had one of these since I was in school."

As a thank you for agreeing to aid you in your makeshift 'training', you wanted to do something special from the man. He mentioned getting something to eat after his shift. That's when you had the idea to make and bring something for him. It took some research and shopping the next day, but you managed to put together a couple of cute little bento boxes. You had even managed to find some boxes with little bear faces on them! Maybe it wasn't the most appropriate considering who you were preparing them for, but such a good find could not go to waste. Of course, Kyohei's wasn't quite as little. He was a grown man, after all, he needed his food!

You had gotten a little carried away with the tutorials, and it was only after you had cut a good five apples into bunny shapes before you realized that you were following instructions for a children's bento box. "Where did you even find this?" he asks, picking up one of said bunnies in his fingers and inspecting it.

"Actually, I made them..." you admit bashfully, escaping eye contact by staring at your own food. "I haven't prepared much of my own food since I got here, so I wanted give it a shot. Sorry if it's not exactly like what you used to have. I did my best with what I could learn on the internet." Your confidence depletes the more you talk and you find yourself wanting to explain yourself further. Cooking was definitely not your forte. What if you ended up giving him food poisoning and he never talks to you again?? Any internal goading you have going on is instantly dissipated when you see Kyohei's smile. He picks up a slice of the egg salad sandwich and takes a bite out of it.

"This is great! What, are you just going to sit there? You went to all that trouble to make it." Realizing how creepy you must have looked, you stuff an apple into your mouth in embarrassment. You both silently enjoyed your meals. Not to toot your own horn, you did pretty good. It was a bit of a cop-out to choose a sandwich, one of the most similar foods to what you ate back home--but hey, neither of you were complaining. You offer to let Kyohei keep the cute little box, but he respectfully declines--although you could see the consideration in his eyes.

"So, what's with this self-defense kick all of a sudden?" he asks, handing you the empty box so you can put it into your backpack. "No one's picking on you, are they?"

You hesitate to answer. He sounded so nonchalant, as if he wasn't at all expecting the truthful answer. "Not consistently, no..." He sees something obviously wrong with that answer, eyebrows knitting together in suspicion.

"But?" he presses. The sudden gravity in his voice is subtle, but you still pick up on it. You never pegged Kyohei as the type to do anything stupid or rash, but he was still the type of guy to be protective of his friends. You admired that about him.

"Well, you know about the whole Slasher thing...but recently I got into another little scuffle." It was not little. You still get tense wondering what it is that they were going to do to you. Obviously, Kyohei wasn't going to let you be vague here.

"A 'scuffle' with whom?" The hem of your shorts is really interesting to you at this moment. There was something about telling him the whole truth that was difficult to you. All you could think about were Kanra's messages from the other night. How would this affect the relationship between the Yellow Scarves and the Dollars? Regardless, you could tell that Kyohei wasn't going to let up until you gave him names.

"Just some punks from the Yellow Scarves. They thought that if they messed with me, they'd be able to get to Shizuo and the Dollars for some reason. I mean, that's crazy, right?" You force yourself to laugh.

He's silent for a moment. He reminds you of a dad in those TV shows where his kid comes home after curfew and he only says 'I'm not mad, just disappointed.' The sigh he lets out after a while really sells it. "Remember what I said a while back? About this stuff being dangerous and unfair?"

"Oh, don't 'I told you so' me!" you pout. "It's not like I didn't agree with you. Besides, I got out of there pretty much unscathed."

"How many of them were there?"

"Just three. One of them seemed to be a sort of ring leader. Some blonde dude. Flo-Rida?? Horila?? Something like that." You were being dodgy about the guy's name on purpose, but Kyohei didn't need to know that. Kyohei sighs what is probably his ten-billionth sigh ever. He stands, picking up his stool and moving it to another side of the room. "Alright, show me what you've learned."

With only a day and a quarter of practice, you were still pretty rusty, but Kyohei helped you through it. Once you had to get close to him, your brain, admittedly, started to short circuit. The two of you ended up watching a couple of the videos you had pulled up on your phone. You reenacted the different moves slowly, and Kyohei even gave you a few pointers of his own; whether or not the scenario was realistic, and if the method would actually work. You soaked up as much of the advice as you could, happy you had come to the right person.

Eventually, you stop to take a break. Kyohei's not out of shape by any means, but it's super muggy in this bathroom, and he is draped head to toe in clothes. "I don't get why you insist on wearing that suffocating clothing all the time. You're obviously burning up," you jest, watching as he wipes the sweat off of his brow. He grunts, sitting beside you on the floor.

"You do know it's October, right?"

"So what you're saying is, when it gets hot, you'll take that hat off?"

"Wha--and what if I don't?" Bewilderment is a cute look on him. You always wondered about his odd attachment to that beanie. It was fine, you guess, but after seeing him without it, you couldn't wrap your head around why he'd want to hide himself like that. Maybe even the 'bossman' himself had insecurities. You could help him with that if he'd let you.

"Hmmm, I don't know. I guess I'd just have to..." In a flash, you're standing over him. "Do it for you!" You snag the fabric of his hat between your fingers, removing it with a single tug. He's at a loss for words, staring at you with wide eyes (that you could see much better now). You cackle at the look of absolute astonishment on his face, making a move to scurry away. However, something catches between your feet, sending you toppling over.

"Hey, quit messin' around!" he grumbles, closing in on you in pursuit of his hat. With both of you on the ground, you both have to crawl around each other. It may be annoying for him but it's hilarious for you. You're so riddled with laughter that your movements are clumsy. At one point, he catches you by the leg, sending you to the ground again. You turn onto your back so you can see him better, only to find him leaning over you. He's reaching for the beanie, held in the hand you had above your head--not realizing the position he's put you both in.

It wasn't the first time the two of you had been in that position. In fact, you notice how similar it was to one of the scenarios you acted out. In a moment of opportunism, you lift your hips, effectively knocking him off of his balance. He's definitely stronger than you, but in this moment, he was vulnerable. You wrap your arms around his torso, clinging to him like a Koala, before quickly rolling over. It was honestly hit or miss whether it'd be enough to transfer both his and your weight, especially considering the fact that he wasn't playing along at this moment. To both his and your surprise, you're able to flip him onto his back with you now on top of him.

Now both of you are out of breath, halted in your positions as you tried to regain your cool. You can't help but start to laugh again, adrenaline sending you into a bit of a giddy fit. "Guess that technique does work after all, huh?" you say, looking down at him. However, at the sight of his face, you're struck speechless. You had seen a lot of new sides of Kyohei today; his laughter, his surprise, but this one was your favorite, you think. It was subtle among the tan of his skin, but from the close proximity, you could easily see the flush in his face. "Hey, are you okay?? You're not too hot, are you?" you asked. He doesn't answer, and in his silence, you finally hear the sound of approaching voices. Very familiar voices.

"Hey, Dotachin, you in here?"

"This place is like a maze, these directions you gave us don't make sense at--Woah!" You have no clue how Walker does that thing with his eyes. Your contemplation on the nature of his facial anatomy is interrupted by Kyohei, who sits up and gently pushes you off of him. "Hey guys! You all ready to head out?" You greet them as usual, smiling brightly at the sight of your good friends. Walker and Erika return the favor, but there is something off about them. Saburo won't even make eye contact with you. You turn to Kyohei in hopes of finding some sort of understanding, but he's no better than Saburo. Huh. How weird...

...

"I just never pictured Dotachin to be the catcher..." Erika seems to believe that by holding a hand over her mouth, she can keep everyone but Walker from hearing her, even if she continued to speak at full volume.

"Hey, wouldja shut up already??" Kyohei snaps at the two of them.

"I don't get it, is Kyohei into baseball, or...?" you mutter to Saburo, who only shakes his head. You notice a red flush on his face. "Just don't listen to anything those guys are saying. At all," he says back. You were all hanging out in the parking lot outside of the building. The odd atmosphere had dissipated, but Saburo and Kyohei were still a little standoffish, and Erika and Walker kept talking about things that you couldn't really understand (that last part was pretty normal, though). Regardless, you're just happy to be hanging out with your friends for a little longer. The smell of the oncoming storm in the air is soothing to you, so you lean against the side of the van, next to its open door. Erika sits with her legs dangling out the side, now discussing another manga with Walker, who stood in front of you both. You listen silently, trying your best to follow along with the confusing conversation.

"Listen, the moment the creators of the series confirm these crazy theories you have about their relationship, I will be the first to entertain the idea."

"But that ruins their entire chemistry, Yummach!! The whole appeal of their relationship is its ambiguity!!"

You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket and sneak a peek at it, assuming that your two friends would be too busy to mind.

UNKNOWN NUMBER It's been long enough since your last visit. If you can come today, I'd like to discuss your payment.

The next message is an address outside of Ikebukuro. As cryptic as it was, you had a pretty good idea as to who it could be. Making sure that Walker and Erika are still distracted, you sneakily send a message back.

ME I'll be there soon.

"Kyohei."

You're all taken off guard by the new voice, turning to see who it is. In front of Kyohei stood Masaomi. Just by looking at the boy, you could tell that something was off. The grave demeanor he had during your hangout at Russia's Sushi had only intensified. The gang had told you about their familiarity with the Raira Trio, and you all even crossed paths occasionally--but Masaomi had never intentionally sought them out, and certainly not by himself. Where were the others anyway?

"You came back," Kyohei says. Masaomi nods earnestly, obviously understanding the statement more than you did.

"I did. Let's talk somewhere private."

You are deeply confused and looking at everyone else, it seemed like you were the only one. Saburo, Erika, and Walker all eyed the boy, uncharacteristically dour. There was a situation that everyone here was aware of, except for you. You are reminded of your first escapade with the van gang at Russia's Sushi and how, at the mention of Masaomi's name, everyone had this same look on their faces. It didn't help how their gazes were not-so-subtly flickering in your direction. Masaomi's eyes meet yours, presumedly for the first time since he had shown up. It's like watching a lightbulb turn on, how instantly his face changes.

"Oh, hey there, (Y/N)! Didn't see you there. Thanks again for the sushi date, you sure know how to treat a fella!" His smile, the light in his eyes, it's all so obviously forced. You wonder what other times that smile was a facade--a facade that he had to put up around you. Ignoring the despair in your chest, you wave at the boy.

"Hey, Masaomi. Good to see you." You maneuver out of your place between Walker and Erika, approaching Masaomi and standing beside him. "I actually have to bail, now. I really lost track of time! It was fun hanging with you guys, as always."

"You sure you don't want us to drop you off? It's raining," Kyohei offers. His words are reinforced by the feeling of water sprinkling your face. It was a light drizzle now, but it was bound to get worse. As much as you'd like to avoid getting hypothermia, you didn't want to deter whatever serious conversation they were about to have. Not to mention, you were reluctant to reveal to them what you were really up to.

"Nah, I love the rain! See you guys later." You spare one last glance at Masaomi before you leave. The light had already disappeared. It was heartbreaking, seeing so much weight on a kid.

Whatever he was dealing with, maybe Kyohei and the others would be able to get him through it.

...

"Wow, you really meant soon, huh?" Izaya smirks at your drenched form. He sits in the same place you had left him, sipping on yet another mug. You're almost angry at how cozy he looks. Something fuzzy appears in your peripheral. It's Namie, holding out a towel. On the inside, you’re swooning. You gratefully accept it, thanking the woman. The fabric feels like heaven against your dripping face.

Once you're certain that you won't leave wet footprints all over the floor, you meet Izaya at the couch. Out of courtesy, you set the towel down before you sit. His eyes scan your form before he laughs. You wish that the man would at least try to hide his amusement at the sight of you. Your fingers anxiously scratch against the damp denim of your shorts. "So...how's it going?"

"Hm? Oh, I've been fine. I decided to stay in today after checking the forecast." You huff at his answer. This guy was one smug pain in the butt.

"N-no, I mean...Nice to hear you're having a good day, but...how is the job going?"

"I see." His jovial smile drops as he puts down the mug. The change in demeanor has you fidgeting terribly. You don't know which is worse, his smugness or his gravity. "I have to admit, it's a bit more difficult than I expected. I rarely extend my services to foreign affairs, so I'm still adjusting to the cultural barrier."

You don't want to admit how disappointed you are. Ever since you had made the request, you had really gotten your hopes up. You had spent the past year disregarding the past, choosing to simply look forward to all of the new memories you could make. However, now that you finally had an opportunity to learn more, you found yourself wondering just what kind of history you had. Just how large of a part of yourself had you lost?

"Aw, no need to look so sullen!" Guess your expressions were more revealing than you thought. "I'm certainly not giving up. It'll just take a little while longer. I understand that this must be important to you, so I'll provide a few forms of compensation for the wait." Your ears perk at the term 'compensation'.

"Compensation...?"

"Of course! I care about the satisfaction of my clients, after all." He leaves his chair and goes over to his desk. "First off, I'll be sure to cut you a good rate for your payment. I know my services can be a little pricy, and you are a young woman, so I don't mind making it a little easier." You're honestly a little offended. None of that really mattered, especially considering the fact that you could probably cover his normal price. However, you decide not to press, since it was basically your father's money that you were spending. As you decide this, you suddenly make eye contact with Namie, who seemed to be taking a break from cleaning. Her eyes were trained on you, narrowed and filling you with a feeling that you couldn't describe. Her gaze then moves to something behind you, most likely her boss. What was going on with her? Suddenly, she returns to her cleaning, just as Izaya returns from his place at the desk.

"I'd also like to offer you this," he says, setting something down in front of you. It was a manila folder, similar to the one he had been looking through during your first visit. Upon closer inspection, you realized that it was the folder that he had been looking through. You eye him cautiously, hesitating to even touch the folder. He doesn't seem offended, continuing to smile at you as he leans over your shoulder. The way he stays behind you has you skittish. "I noticed how interested you were in this case the last time that we talked. I've learned all that I needed from it, so I thought I'd lend it to you. There are some riveting aspects that I never told you about."

Of course he noticed that. He wasn't wrong, you had even found yourself wondering about it hours ago. You stare at the folder, wondering what it is about its contents that you'd find so interesting. After a moment, you finally pick it up, accepting his offer. He is visibly pleased by this. "Great! Well, that's all I had to discuss with you, so if you don't mind!" You're put off by such a blunt send-off, but you don't think so much into it. This meeting was just for business after all.

”I was in a car crash a year ago.” Your lips are moving faster than you can register. There’s a silence from the man behind you. Anxious from the lack of response, you look over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of him. He’s lips are pressed into a straight line—it’s such a short flash that you almost don’t notice it, but you swear that his mouth had been a smirk a mere second before.

“Is that so?” You don’t know what reaction you were expecting. Still, motivated by his engagement, you continue.

”I was in a car crash a year ago, and I lost my memory. All I know is that I’m (Y/N) Brigall, 19, adopted daughter of Dr. Neville Brigall. So please, understand what this means to me...I’m sure there are records somewhere, right? News articles, adoption papers, anything....” You’ve managed to choke yourself up. How embarrassing. Taking deep breaths through your nose, you rush to compose yourself. A thin, pale hand rests itself on your shoulder. Izaya smiles at you, and through your blurry vision, it almost looks genuine.

“I will find exactly what you’re looking for,” he promises. If you close your eyes and listen to just his voice, you could find all the sincerity that you need. You finally stand, grimacing at how your clothes were still damp.

As you make your way to the door, he calls out to you. Amongst the spacious room, his voice echoes off of the walls. "I just hope you don't lose sleep over this...perhaps you simply lived such a boring, ordinary life that there's not much to find!"

You don't what it is about his words that don't sit right with you, but you find yourself gaping in offence. You practically whirl around to face him, mouth fixed to say something, anything--you don't know what. However, your tongue stops as your eyes meet his. There it was, that smile--the smile that, on his own, could be perceived as courteous and welcoming. When paired with those narrowed, audacious eyes, however, it carried a whole different meaning that you didn't want to understand. Driven by the shudder traveling down your spine, you quickly exit, not bothering to say any goodbyes. You lean against the door, sighing in frustration. You had really gotten yourself into something messy, huh?

"(Y/N)?"

You gasp as you realize that someone is standing in front of you. As you travel down the mental list of people that you hope aren't looking at you right now, you realize that it's a very long list. Honestly, it's just a list of every person that you know. No matter what, when you open your eyes and look at this person, you were going to dread it. Despite this, you're still surprised at the sight of Masaomi, gaping at you. Staring into his wide eyes, you're at a loss for words. You don't know what you could possibly do to explain yourself. The way his fists are starting to clench certainly doesn't help.

You're internally berating yourself as you rush past him, never saying a word. What could you say?? You were caught messing with this man--this man who had probably done things to upset a lot of people. How could you possibly justify that? The further you get from him, the faster you move, eventually running until you've completely left the building. Why was he there? He was just with the others, wasn't he? Even under the cool rain, the burning in your face won't let up, persisting through your entire walk home.

You messed up.

...

Kanra: You guys hear? Kanra: The Dollars and Yellow Scarves went at it again! Taro Tanaka: Man, again? Setton: Scary... Sora: This is getting old! Taro Tanaka: Another scuffle, right? Kanra: Actually, this time, the Dollars hit the Yellow Scarves at their own HQ (°ロ°) ! Setton: A little bold of them, isn't it? Kanra: Yeah! Kanra: You know the Headless Rider? Kanra: Apparently, it teamed up with the Slasher--and together they attacked the Yellow Scarves at their secret hideout!

Out of every single thing you have heard Kanra say, you'd say that you'd believe about 15% of it. She always says such ridiculous things, you wonder if she'll ever quit. Why on Earth would Celty involve herself in all of this gang mess? Not to mention the fact that you watched her slam a Slasher in the face with the wheel of her motorcycle. There's no reason at all to team up with it.

Setton: Uh... Kanra: Something wrong, Setton? Taro Tanaka: That can't be true. Taro Tanaka: I can't believe that, even from you, Kanra. Taro Tanaka: That's way too absurd (´• ω •`)

Saika has joined the chat.

You, Taro, and Setton make a silent, mutual agreement not to share Kanra's antics with Saika, making up some imaginary special effects movie and raving about it. Kanra tries to deflect it, but you three win out due to strength in numbers. Saika seems to take the recommendation to heart, saying that she'll check it out. That lie is going to fall through very soon, but at least you managed to change the subject. At least, that's what you thought.

Kanra: By the way... Kanra: I heard this crazy rumor. Sora: What a surprise... Kanra: So mean!! 。゜゜(´Ｏ`) ゜゜。 Taro Tanaka: What was it? Kanra: They say that the leader of the Yellow Scarves wants to meet the leader of the Dollars and challenge him to some sort of showdown! Saika: Really??

The rest of the conversation continued as usual, with Kanra talking about all kinds of crazy stuff. Sometimes you wonder if she started this chat simply to spread her weird gossip. Where on earth did she get all of this information, anyway? It was always "I heard" and "they said". You wouldn't be surprised if it was all gossip she made up herself. You guess you should be more forgiving towards the girl. When she wasn't spreading rumors, she was honestly pretty funny. With the new addition of Saika, the chat's dynamic had only gotten more amusing. You often wonder if you all would ever meet in person. Honestly, since you were all in Ikebukuro, you wonder if you all had met already....

You laugh dismissively as the chat closes. No way!

#durarara x reader #durarara #drrr x reader #kadota kyohei #kyohei kadota x reader #izaya orihara x reader #izaya orihara

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bspeaks · 5 months ago

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caregiver nicky alert

warning: very self indulgent, very specific, very fluffy

i struggle severely with a skin condition called hidradenitis suppurativa, so this is something im writing for myself. thinking about him frequently helps me get through my very painful showers. if you struggle with anything similar then this is for you too <3

just nicky helping you shower. he knows youre tired and in pain and he just wants to take care of you. he knows that showering will make you feel a bit better but he understands the dreadful feeling you associate with the task, and he just wants to do whatever he can to get his girl to start feeling better.

he always notices when youre struggling, even if you're trying to be discreet about it. he sees the way you cringe at the sensation of your own skin when you move, the way you pause in action because of a sudden pain, the way you linger in uncomfortable positions for longer than you want because youre afraid of the pain that might come with moving.

of course he offers to bring you pain meds, asks you if youre keeping up with your prescription meds, might even offer to roll you a joint to take your mind off things. but sometimes he can tell you need some extra help, and hes eager to offer it to you. youre comfortable with him and he knows all about your condition, so he feels equipped to step in and do the work for you when you need it.

he prepares everything in a much nicer manner than you would if you had managed to drag yourself into the shower. hes got the water at the perfect temperature, comfy clothes sat waiting for you when you get out, a towel in the dryer so that its nice and warm for you afterwards, even lit your favorite candle in the bathroom to help calm your mind a bit.

once youre in the shower together hes the most gentle and attentive man on the planet. plus, he wont let you do any work. hes shampooing your hair thoroughly, but being gentle on the edges of your scalp where he knows you have sensitive flare ups. hes rinsing it out completely then working conditioner into your hair. hes clipping your hair up so that the conditioner can sit for a while. hes got your routine down entirely.

next hes washing your face, his soothing hands moving across your skin. he definitely covers your face with kisses once its rinsed and tells you how good youre being. then its time for the hard part, washing your body. he knows hes gotta go in with a special soap first with just his hands on the areas where youre flaring up. you let him manipulate your limbs and give you little commands while you try your best to stay still and focus on your breathing.

his hands are so careful, never pressing too hard or moving too fast. hes constantly checking in, asking "is this okay?" or "does it hurt here?". and when you gasp and wince because he/the water touched a spot that stung really bad hes immediately pulling you into his arms and comforting you. whispering "oh m so sorry baby c'mere" and holding you close until youve recovered from the pain.

once hes done with the sensitive areas he goes in with a washcloth and your favorite bodywash. trying to wash and rinse the stress away. and finally he removes the clip from your hair and rinses the conditioner out. he even detangles it for you, once again being super gentle and careful with your tender scalp.

once youre all done he dries off quickly then grabs the warm towel out of the dryer to take care of you. he wraps you in the towel, holding you against him to warm you up. once youre all dry he helps put bandages on you where youre worried your flare ups will stick to your clothes. he dresses you in the loungewear he prepared for you. he braids your hair so its out of your way.

and after that, hes ready to keep taking care of you for as long as youll let him.

#nicholas ruffilo #nick ruffilo #nicky fluff #sfw caregiver #bad omens fanfic

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armpirate · 2 years ago

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UNDER HIS SKIN || JJK || Ch. 1

Pairings: tattoist!jk x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, friends to lovers, tattoo au, virgin reader.

Summary: They say there are two versions for every story, and it's important to hear both of them. Everybody is hearing your side of the story, but it's just fair to get to know his.

After breaking up with his girlfriend, the only thing he wanted was to have fun with no attachment. You wanted to get rid of your virginity, and he wanted to tick you off his list. What he didn't expect was getting so emotionally attached to you that he would regret the deal.

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

7 months ago

The rhythmic sound of those knocks in the door, simulating the 20th Century Fox intro, gets on my nerves. Because I already know who's the person behind those knocks, and because he's been doing that every single time he's come over.

Why won't he fucking knock on the door like a normal person.

—I'm not home —I scream, resting my back on the couch.

—Just open the door —he whines.

I groan, standing up and walking to the door. I know Tae won't leave, even if I tell him to. He'll just stay here, being a pain in the ass until I give in and open it.

—You look horrible.

It's the first thing he says as his eyes land on me. And yes, I haven't looked my best in days -or weeks-, I've probably been wearing these pajamas for a little too long, and could be I haven't showered because my own smell isn't bothering me yet. But that doesn't give him the right to come here and tell me directly, especially when he's trying to come in. So, annoyed with his comment, I roll my eyes and push the door to close it again.

—I was just kidding —he stops me from closing the door—, kind of.

I sigh, done with whatever he's trying to say, but letting him in because I know he'll manage to get in anyway. Just a week ago he stood out of my door for three hours because I wouldn't reply to his texts nor answer his calls.

—Why are you here? —I mutter, walking to the couch again.

—I wanted to see you —he shrugs, following my steps.

—You saw me this morning —I sit on the couch—, when you went to the studio. And you also saw me when we went to get lunch this afternoon —I remind him—. Fuck, I see you more than Mark, and that says a lot.

—I wanted to see you... a lot of times —he adds—. Everyone's worried about you —he sits next to me.

—It's not like I'm going to kill myself for being alone —I chuckle, resting my head on the backrest.

—No, but you're a mess. Soo didn't want me to tell you, but she's preparing an intervention.

Of course. Why am I not surprised about my sister sticking her nose in my business. It'd be weird if she didn't.

—She knows you haven't met up with anyone.

I look at him in disbelief. We two are almost tied to the hip, but he's now saying I barely hang out with them. Does he want to move in with me or what?

—Forcing you to hang out with me doesn't count —he snaps—. Leslie is out there living her life, yet you're here, looking miserable for someone that doesn't deserve it. You're way better than her, and she didn't deserve you.

Taehyung is a good friend, he seriously is. But the fact that he's trying to cheer me up with those words, when not even three months ago he was crying and throwing up over a girl he dated for three weeks, is laughable. It's not the same situation at all.

And he knows it.

I dated Leslie for almost five years, we were living together, we were working together. And out of nowhere, I find out she's been cheating on me for months, using our bed. And instead of talking to me and trying to make things up, she left and now I have to get used to her not being around, not smelling her scent, not seeing her smile when she turns to me as soon as she wakes up...

I went from having everything to not having anything. Nothing at all.

—I wanted to marry her —I admit.

Taehyung interrupts his rant, a heavy silence growing among us. I feel his eyes on me, while my gaze is still fixed on the ceiling.

—I was going to ask her to marry me —I scoff—. I even booked a table at the most expensive restaurant, and reserved the diamond ring of her dreams... For nothing.

When I look at him, I see that look full of pity everyone has been glaring at me since it was known Leslie left me. The only reason why I don't care about being around Tae is because he was the only one that didn't look at me that way. Yet there he was.

—Don't look at me like that —I complained, pissed off.

—Like what? —he changes his tone— I can't look at you right now —he fakes a sob—. Your smell is blinding me... literally. If someone needs tear gas, they can just throw you out there and get the same result.

I let out a laugh, remembering why I tolerate him so much.

—Don't be an ass. It's not that bad —I smell my t-shirt.

—You have to be kidding me. You were wearing this same t-shirt this morning when you were working —he grabs the edge of my t-shirt—, and yesterday you were wearing the exact same one. When was the last time you showered?

—I don't know —I shrug again.

—She won't come back. And it doesn't matter how long you go without showering, or without meeting us. She left Mark and the studio, she left you... She's a selfish bitch. And don't look at me that way.

He points his finger at me when I lift my head, only to throw him a glare.

—I know how important she was to you, but you need to let it go —he stands up—. Go out, hook up with girls, give yourself a treat... —he lifts his eyebrows— And let's start today. Jimin is throwing a party at his place.

—I don't want to go.

—Either you go there, or I'll tell him to throw the party here. Your choice —he looks around.

He knows me so well, that he's aware he got away with what he wanted by the way I sigh and let my head fall back.

—Today will be your first day as a single man —he cheers, with a wide smile.

✸ ✸ ✸

Currently

I park my motorbike outside, next to the entrance. A wide smile forms on my face as I keep seeing people coming and leaving the pub, all looking sober enough to go for a second round to the nightclubs nearby.

—Hey, Brooke —I smile at the brunette behind the counter.

—Hey, cutie —she smiles at me—. What can I get for you?

I know it could be an innocent question for anyone else. It should be an innocent question. But the way she's looking at me, while licking her lips, gives that question a totally different meaning. Both of us know that if it weren't for her position here, I would've made a move on her the first time I saw her in the inauguration.

—Your boss —I reply—, and a beer.

She throws a wink at me. Brooke serves me the beer first, and walks away to look for Taehyung, where the hell he must be right now.

As I look around, I see some girls looking my way, and turning those small smiles to smirks as soon as they're aware I'm looking back. One blonde girl in concrete gets my attention, and seems like she's going to come my way, but stops. Soon I know the reason why.

—Kookie —he greets with a smile—, what brings you here?

—I was just passing by —I give a sip to my beer—. I wanted to see how it was going.

—Oh, so you're finally taking your responsibility as a partner?

—I'm not a partner though.

I only gave him the money I got from the ring I bought months ago. I wasn't counting on it anyway, so when Taehyung kept saying he wanted to open a pub -and only needed 5.000 dollars more, I saw it pretty clearly.

—For me you are —he shakes his head—. What do you think? —he opens his arm wide, referring to the whole establishment.

—It's good to see you're doing good.

Honestly, I haven't come here since the inauguration day. But I heard some people saying this was the new "It" place to spend a good time at night. And seeing the amount of people here, and waiting outside, I can tell they weren't lying. It's doing great.

—Are you still growing your hair?

—Hmm —I nod—. I won't grow it longer than shoulder length, but I like how it's looking.

We talk a bit more, but Taehyung ends up leaving when Brooke calls him on the other side of the counter. I stay in the same spot, enjoying my beer, looking around... Nothing deep until someone gets my attention.

She's sitting by herself at one of the tables, and she keeps looking around, her eyes scanning through every single person that's here. But it doesn't seem like anyone catches her attention, because she moves from one to the next one. Until her eyes finally meet mine. She's surprised to see me looking at her, but that doesn't stop her from looking. Her gaze doesn't leave me, and she tries to scan me the same way she scanned the others. The only difference is that this time she was caught, but she doesn't care, since her eyes go over my body with no shame.

I do the same. I scan every corner of her face, every curve... And I'm feeling tempted to move away from here, and take the first step.

She's playing a game I love. Who will hold the look the longest? And who will make the move first? And the new girl loses, her eyes drift from mine.

I turn to my glass, and take a quick look at all the liquors carefully placed on the showcase, going through all the names I'm able to read from my place. I'm focused on trying to read one of the names when I feel someone tapping on my shoulder.

There it is. I knew she would give in first...

But when I turn around, with that proud smirk, I don't see her. Instead, there's a brunette that's almost as tall as me, with a ridiculously big and wide smile. Her hip is slightly swayed to the right, while her finger keeps twirling around one of her locks.

—I'm Tonya —she introduces herself.

—Jungkook —I smile at her.

I know she starts talking, because I see her red colored lips moving, but I can't pay attention to a single word she's saying. My head is still stuck on that other girl. And for that exact same reason, I look for her over this girl's shoulder, finding her eyes perking with curiosity and a glint of disappointment. As soon as she's aware I caught her looking, she moves her gaze away again and takes a long sip of her drink. For a moment, I believe she'll come right to where we are standing and interrupt us. But she obviously doesn't.

I see myself battling between two choices when I see her standing up and walking to the counter, just to pay and leave.

—I'm really sorry, Tania —she stops her endless monologue—. I really have to leave right now.

—It's Tonya —she laughs, uncomfortable—. But sure, don't worry. Do you have Instagram or somewhere I can find you?

—Ask Brooke —I point to her—. She'll help you out with that —I start walking towards the door.

—Can't believe you're making me do that again —Brooke rolls her eyes when she hears me say that.

Most of the girls are never that into me to reach out to a stranger and ask them about me. But those who do, get some lame excuse from someone else whenever they ask for my phone number or social media. Brooke is brilliant for that. Last time, she managed to say I was some kind of hustler, fishing for a new victim. Others probably just said they didn't know me, which is true.

When I head outside, I see her body standing in the middle of the pavement, her head turning left and right, while she keeps checking her phone.

—Do you need a ride?

#fanfic #ff #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkookxreader #jk #bts #wattpad #kookie #smut #jungkook smut #tattoistjk #tattooau #jungkook pov #armpirate

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mjart12699 · 1 year ago

Text

Work Song

It’s cold today. Winter is making its way through Vesuvia, cloaking everything in sheets of ice and the first round of snow. The black sands of The Lazaret stick to my shoes with a mixture of slush, but it doesn’t bother me.

I no longer go to the coliseum. Ever since I broke out with Inanna I’ve stayed in the forest as much as I can if I can count on it. However, the things needed to survive cost money, and I cannot rely on Asra for everything. So for the moment I work on the Lazaret, the quarantine island where those afflicted with the plague are sent to spend their final days. I dig the graves here, whether they be for multiple bodies or just one.

Setting my shovel down for a moment, I look at how far I have made it with preparing the grave in front of me.

It’s one of the mass ones, shallow enough that the bodies, wrapped in cloth or burnt to ash will be piled on top of each other in a careless fashion. I’ve worked here long enough to know that it’s not that the other people working here don’t care, it’s just that it’s easier on the body and mind this way.

Another breath taken and I am back to digging the sand, ignoring the ache in my shoulders as I push the shovel into the ground again and again. The building where they cremate the bodies roars in the distance, and the sound of other shovels hitting the sand accompanies it in a disgusting tune.

It’s all too familiar.

Someone starts bringing out bodies from one of the quarantine buildings in a wheelbarrow, dumping them next to the pit before going back inside to retrieve more. Once I’ve finished digging out the last layer I start to arrange the bodies in their final resting place, always making sure to be careful and give them one more act of gentleness in the last light.

I’m used to bodies having some post-death reactions, such as sighs or groans, but the one I pick up now manages to flail. It shocks me enough that I nearly drop them.

They are small, probably a child if I had to guess. I pull back the burial cloth from their face, kneeling into the sands and bracing myself for what I might see.

I am met with a classic plague victim, but instead of being dead this one is still alive. The whites of their eyes are red, and the blood vessels on their face and neck are purple and crimson as well. Their face is gaunt, showing no sign of the baby fat that was probably there just the other week. They feel like a bag of bones in my arms, much like the other dead, but despite that their heart still beats softly in their chest.

Even with the near blindness they have, their eyes shine with recognition, and fear as they gasp for air. Their chest rattles audibly with the movement, and I try to set them back into the sands to continue with the others.

“Wait!” At first I don’t hear it, a whisper in the wind that could easily be ignored, but for some reason I do as I am asked. “Please… don’t want to be alone…” Logically, it’s a bad idea. Even with the cloth mask I wear by the doctors recommendations on the island the plague is still incredibly contagious, taking the life of anyone no matter their circumstances. However, I do as I am asked and continue to hold them, forcing myself to relax and not quite meeting their gaze.

“You’re… you’re The Scourge, right?” The child manages to say between coughs and wheezes, the words like knives to me. I nod in response. “What are you doing here? You’re not sick.” I take a few moments to think of an answer.

“I needed a job.” They try to nod, only to go into a violent coughing fit. I sit them up forward, trying to ease their pain just a little. Once that stops they still breathe heavily, as if they had been drowning.

I wouldn’t be surprised if they were, judging from what the doctors say.

I half expect them to stay quiet, to ease into a permanent sleep and for the thrum of their pulse to stop fluttering. Death seems to be watching, closer than it normally feels and yet far away at the same time, not yet ready to collect them.

Of course I’m wrong again.

“You’re being kind to me… why did you fight then?” Kids are always straight to the point, although I can’t fault them for their words. Adults are worse, especially since you know that they know what their words mean.

“To protect someone.” There’s no point in lying, or trying to avoid their questions. They seem to accept that, leaning into my arm as though it was a pillow.

It’s started to snow again, little white flakes falling through the sky and melting on the kids' cheeks. “I really wanted to see the first snow.”

“You did.”

“From my window, at home.” Another coughing fit interrupts them, their cheeks, which were already red, turning an even brighter shade. “I don’t feel it though.” That’s no surprise to me. The clothes that they had been wearing in the quarantine building are thin, and the burial cloth isn’t much better. Their skin looks nearly gray in the cold light, the only color coming from the angry streaks of red on their face and neck.

I watch as people walk across the sands, wrapped in thick coats to protect from the disease and the elements. A luxury the dead and dying aren’t afforded.

It doesn’t matter if they soon won’t feel anything. I take off my cloak, the fur dull but still warm, and adjust it to wrap around their small frame. My hair whips in the cold wind behind me, making me wince as it stings against my back.

The kid nearly melts into the material, closing their eyes and rubbing their cheek against the dark fur. I can no longer see their chest moving, or the thrum of their pulse beneath their throat as they sigh into the material, but they seem content. That’s all that matters.

“What’s your real name?” Once again, there is no point in avoiding the question, but the fear-like feeling that rises in my chest nearly prevents my answer.

“Muriel… My name is Muriel.”

“Hm… that’s a nice name.” I’ve never thought so before, only being told the same thing by one other person. “I’m going to die soon… aren’t I?” A simple nod is all I give them once again, the tight feeling in my chest slowly growing. “Will you stay with me?” It’s a quiet request, but said with all the bravery they can muster. Once again, I nod.

The sun in the gray sky looks nearly white, just like the frost that covers the ground and falls around us. The chill makes my skin prickle with goosebumps, a feeling all too familiar to me yet again, but I don’t even think of taking my cloak back. The crematorium continues to roar behind us, and its warmth is of no comfort in the cold. Their breathing continues to slow, minute after minute, although it feels like hours. The ragged sound in their chest seems louder than the chains I wear on my neck, and the coughs from them and others boom in my ears.

They take their last breath when the sun finally sets, mere minutes after I had picked them up in the first place. I don’t take my cloak back, instead choosing to wrap the burial cloth around their face once again and tuck them into the fur as though they were simply going to bed once again. My entire body aches from the cold as I lay the other bodies in the grave first, arranging them gently as I’ve always done.

The last body is wrapped in furs, the white cloth covering their small face barely peeking through before I pick up the shovel again and fill the grave with sand.

The snow continues to fall as I finish what last tasks I am given for the night, falling harder and harder as the hours pass. By the time everyone is taking the last boat home it’s heavy enough that all have donned their hats and cloaks, their forms like solid shadow in the flurry.

I stay on the back of the boat like always, my eyes downcast to the floor of the craft in the same manner as everyone else.

Walking home feels like a chore, even as the streets empty for the frigid night ahead I feel the gaze of those who knew what I have done follow me through the cobblestone streets. They only stop when the stone begins to turn to dirt and roots.

Inanna meets me halfway home, walking silently next to me and nudging her cold nose against my hand. The hut is cold when I open the door, and I make sure to kick any excess snow off before going further inside. It takes time for the house to warm once I start the fire, and I busy myself with other things in the meantime.

“Where is your cloak?” I feel her words more than hear them, Inanna’s voice ringing through my head as I stir the leftover dinner from yesterday in the pot.

“Someone else needed it.”

#the arcana #arcana game #muriel arcana #muriel of the kokhuri #muriel the hermit #the arcana muriel #the arcana headcanons #artists on tumblr #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #the arcana fanfic #the arcana hc #muriel headcanons #hurt/comfort #hurt no comfort

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cloudsandcrescents · 7 months ago

Text

☁️ Current Life Update ☁️

Just wanted to provide an update here as I know I’ve gotten quiet again. Anyone who knows me personally knows I don’t make excuses and don’t like to procrastinate. I’m pretty organized and love sticking to a schedule. No one has accused me of being either and I know my personal life and health (mental and physical) take precedent but I’ve always been one who feels the need to explain things and share updates because I’ve gained a bit of a following and the last thing I want is for anyone to think I’m abandoning these works or just screwing around.

Again, I know, I know, I don’t have to justify this and you all are always supportive and understanding but I also believe in transparency and my own personal accountability. It’s a little lengthy but here we go.

Shortly after I posted my last posting schedule, I was supposed to be taking a few days off from work. I am very susceptible to burnout and could feel myself getting too in my head, struggling with remembering to eat, not getting enough sleep, etc. That very first day of my break we had a very unexpected family emergency and I was the only person who was able to help. I’m an introvert by nature and while I do love my family, I really enjoy my time to myself and I try to prioritize that alone time because it’s integral in helping me prevent burnout.

This sudden emergency brought a familiar but sudden change that I wasn’t prepared for and immediately lost all of my days of my mini break to having to socialize and extend more of myself that I didn’t have to give away. That shot my mood down tremendously and further exacerbated negative feelings and thoughts that I was hoping to get away from. I stopped eating entirely and was averaging a few hours of sleep and was immediately thrust back into working.

After some much needing venting and conversation with my RDN and my therapist, I started to gather myself back together. Writing was resuming and I didn’t feel great but I did feel a little more like myself. About a week ago I started feeling under the weather but brushed it off, took some medicine and tried to keep pushing through it. It didn’t work. Despite taking medicine and trying to rest and eat properly, I noticed I wasn’t getting better and was gradually getting worse. Finally decided to go to the doctor and found out that I have pneumonia so of course my measly meds weren’t working and got switched over to some antibiotics.

So that’s where we are currently. Mentally, I still feel a little off but I’ll get there and was able to schedule some more time off next week. I have been writing in between where I can but nowhere near as much as I would’ve liked. Today’s feels the best so far but even now I’m probably only about 40%.

Again, I know an explanation isn’t really owed but I don’t like leaving you all hanging without hearing something from me. It feels like every time I get back ahead of things, something gets in the way and it makes me feel worse because it seems like I’m doing more updates on why I’m not writing than updates on new chapters.

If you managed to sit here and read all of this, I applaud you and appreciate you for doing so. I’m hoping that whatever this horrible spell is that I’m going through right now ends swiftly. I love writing these stories and I love sharing them with you all and I really want to get back to it more than anything. Sorry for the long post but you all are amazing and deserve to know what’s going on.

Thank you,

Your Friend Cloud 🩵

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writingquestionsanswered · 2 years ago

Note

How long is a normal length of time to work on an outline? (Sorry this kinda turned into a ramble) I decided to actually sit down and outline a novel I started in 2018 but dropped, mainly because I had no idea where I was going with it. During the pandemic, I discovered the wonder of actually outlining and sticking to a schedule-ish, and I managed to write a couple of short novels. Now, to myself, I call these "practice novels". They're not that good, but I needed something to practice with so I took really old stories I had discarded and just wrote them down, I had the time and needed something to write. Now, I wrote a short novel in January-March last year that came out really good, maybe the best I've written so far, and in November I started a sequel and finished it a little over a month ago. It also came out really nice. Now, it's normal for me to start thinking of my next project when I'm about to wrap up the one I'm currently working on, and this time I decided I was going to work on this 2018 project. It's also normal for me to take some time off to cool down when I just finished something, reread and revise, and basically get some rest before I get in the mood to write again. Now, a friend of mine has been asking repeatedly why haven't I written in so long and if something had happened. She even recommended me some books to get me inspired again. And honestly? I don't really feel in the mood to write yet, and I feel like my outline is still incomplete. I'm doing research and taking my time to properly develop the characters and the story. I already had a go with this one once and dropped it. This time I want to do it right, I don't want to rush it, I really like the story and the characters and want to make the best I can out of it. I kinda feel pressured by this friend but I also feel like I should just follow my gut and prepare the way I feel best.

Spending a While in the Pre-Write Phase

Every writer is different, and every project is different, so there's no right or wrong amount of time to spend outlining your story or in the pre-write phase in general. The only potential definition of "too long" there is would be spending so long outlining/in pre-write that you never actually write the story.

"Percolating" and Practice Matter

If you're not quite ready to work on this story because you feel the ideas need more time to percolate, that's absolutely fine. You should trust your gut on that and not friends who are pressuring you to write. But if you're not actively engaging in the pre-write phase of this story... for example, outlining, world building, developing characters, etc., it might at least be worth considering doing some writing prompts to exercise your writing brain in the meantime. Writing is a lot like bike riding in that you won't forget how to do it if you don't do it for a long time, but the required muscles lose their strength just a little bit. So things like reading, journaling, and doing writing prompts are some good ways to keep those writing muscles engaged. And you can even do writing prompts related to the story you're outlining, too. The first nine suggestions in Getting Unstuck: Motivation Beyond Mood Boards & Playlists has some story-related prompts you can try out. Getting Excited About Your Story Again has some other story-related prompts that are fun and can help you flesh out your characters and setting in surprising ways.

It's Okay to Politely Tell Writer Friends to Chill

All relationships take work, even relationships with writer friends, and those can be particularly prickly because part of being writer friends is to help motivate one another, but there can be a delicate line between motivating and nagging. Sometimes people don't realize they're crossing that line. So when you feel like a writer friend is putting pressure on you, don't be afraid to say, "Hey, I really appreciate your support and the motivation you give me, but right now I'm focusing on taking a little break to clear my head and let this old story percolate a bit before I start working on it."

I hope that helps! ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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#writing tips #writing help #writing advice #wqaadvice

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finerandbonnier · 1 year ago

Text

Only in the Scant Light

Half a scoff escapes his mouth before Harjit manages to rein himself back in. Having recomposed himself his next words are careful and controlled. “It’s not that—” Harjit glances around the room and lowers his voice a bit. “I’ve dealt with my fair share of grief; grief alone I could handle. In truth, it’s not knowing how to feel about Lucian that I struggle with. The constant shifting between mourning him, to feeling like a fool for doing so because clearly he must have just become bored of me and left and then despising myself because what if he’s out there lost or injured while I just sit here forgetting what he looks like? Any one of them I could cope with but all at the same time? I don’t know what to do with that.” In a pub down in Fallen London, after a long afternoon walking the beat, a conversation take the turn to the personal.

[AO3]

It had not been a particularly productive morning. Having already worked through the streets neighbouring Mrs Chapman’s over the past few weeks you had been forced to set off further afield in search of new census subjects. This was easier said than done given the significantly more ambulatory nature the buildings of London had developed since their descent through the earth. Early this morning you’d set off in a random direction searching for new territory, trying to remember the little tricks Harjit had taught you to prevent oneself from getting turned around (Keep the destination clear in your mind. Sometimes you must move backwards to go forwards. Do not panic.) but more than once you’d found yourself right back where you’d started. Then when you finally managed to reach an unfamiliar street all the reward you got was a brief look at the Ministry insignia attached to your chest and a door slammed in your face. Eighteen damn times in a row.

Dejected, you unpin the badge from your lapel and slip it into your pocket as you turn back towards what you hope is home. If not, you’ll likely be wandering until evening and have to face Griz over the dinner table with nothing to show. Again. Picking your way through the cobbled streets you allow yourself to be consumed by your annoyance. Is it helpful to grumble about ungrateful, ignorant people who can’t even be bothered to answer a few simple questions? No. But it makes you feel better, so you let yourself indulge.

Turning the corner onto what is either a familiar street or confirmation that the butcher’s shop that used to be three roads over from Mrs Chapman’s has moved again you spot a familiar figure. Even from the back Harjit Singh is unmistakeable in his blue constable’s coat and turban. He’s not that far ahead so you go to call out his name in greeting but find it sticks in your throat. Maybe you’re embarrassed to reveal you might be lost to someone who always makes traversing these streets look easy, maybe you’re still feeling sore about your morning and don’t want to inflict your distemper on an innocent party, maybe you just want to be left alone. Whatever the reason you regret it almost instantaneously; he’s travelling in the same direction as you and now you’re stuck walking behind him. Not so close for your behaviour to be considered rude but still, it’s awkward. With every passing footstep the thought repeats itself in your mind, just do it, just say something. Instead, the momentum of your inaction carries you forward and you continue on in silence, too caught up in thinking about speaking to actually do so. At least he’ll probably lead you back towards home.

Harjit however is an observant man and you are not particularly light-footed; it doesn’t take him long to notice your tread following him. One hand travels to his hip as he tenses and spins on a heel to face you, clearly prepared to dispatch some hideous beast that had begun stalking him. His eyes widen with surprise when, instead of monster or criminal, he encounters your slightly sheepish face. Unlike yourself he shows no hesitation in calling out your name, “Were you following me?”

“No,” you lie.

His eyebrow cocks in a way that suggests he knows you’re not being truthful but, if so, he doesn’t call you out on it. Instead, he waits patiently for you to catch up to him and then sets off once more on his original bearing. The two of you walk side by side, a respectful distance between you.

“Are you returning to Mrs Chapman’s?” he asks.

“Yes, not that I’ve got much done this morning. I’m going to grab some dinner but I’ll need to set out again in the afternoon. If I can bring myself to,” you mutter the last sentence under your breath.

“You’re still working on the census?” He looks at the front of your coat, presumably noticing the absence of the ministry pin that you had taken to always wearing while on ‘official’ business.

“Yes, for all the good it’s doing me,” you sigh, “I know I sound terribly ungrateful and I’m not. Griz really stuck her neck out getting me this job and she didn’t have to. I needed the money, still do to be honest, so I’m very grateful to her. It’s just not work that I enjoy. Or that I’m any good at.”

“You seemed well enough suited to it when you interviewed me.”

“Try telling that to the fine residents of…” You turn to point back the way you came, acutely aware that you aren’t actually certain what direction that is. “I honestly have no idea what road I was just on. But they made it quite clear they were not interested in any questions I might have. It was different with you; I already knew you. That made it easier. Sorry, I’m sure you don’t want to listen to me whine the entire way back to Mrs Chapman’s… err, if that is where you’re headed?”

“It is. I thought you might be lost— “

“I was not!”

“—so I was going to walk you home. But, if I’m not needed, I can just continue along my rounds…”

Panic sets in. You could probably find your way back from here, maybe, but you haven’t been paying much attention to where you were going since you joined up with Harjit, concentrating instead on the conversation and content to let the man whose job it was do the pathfinding. You try to school your face so your anxiety doesn’t show. You are a grown adult after all who can definitely find their own way home, not some lost child. When you think you’ve gotten your expression under control you look up to meet Harjit’s eyes and— oh, the bastard is smirking!

“You’re quite cruel.” Are you pouting? Surely not.

Harjit chuckles, and dear god you might be pouting.

“And you are quite lost,” he fires back.

“Fine.” You deflate, the tension dropping from your shoulders as your gaze drifts sideways, no longer able to look Harjit in the eye. “I may have gotten a little turned around.”

“And you would like my assistance in getting home.” It’s not a question.

“That would be much appreciated, thank you.”

Harjit offers his elbow to you and you link your arm through it. You feel slightly ridiculous, promenading along like a debutant at a ball but if Harjit feels self-conscious he doesn’t show it. He just walks alongside you, gently steering you in the correct direction whenever you go to make a wrong turn on your journey home.

“Thank you,” you say again, a little further into the walk when the buildings begin to look more recognisable.

“It’s no trouble, it’s my job.”

“No, not that. Well, yes that as well. But I was thanking you for the company, I was in a foul mood before and you’ve managed to knock me clean out of it.”

“Any time.” Harjit pauses before continuing, “Actually, if you’d like you could accompany me along my route some time? It might help you to get a little better orientated. Only if you wanted to, naturally.”

You mull the offer over. You’ve walked with Harjit before today of course, but only when you had enlisted him specifically to show you to a new location. Most of the conversations the two of you had shared had been on the occasions when he visited Mrs Chapman’s: either when he stopped by on his rounds to check in on the household or the times he arrived specifically to see Archie or yourself with some query, often about Lucian. Walking around the neighbourhood might be helpful and not just from a navigation perspective. It would be nice to have something to do outside of your room. Something a bit more normal than collecting overly personal information for your sinister, becloaked employer or the potentially treasonous activity Archie had roped you into helping him with.

Taking your hesitation for nerves Harjit carries on, “I wouldn’t take you anywhere dangerous and if anything happened, I am armed. I’d keep you safe, I swear it.”

As if your safety had been a concern! The idea any harm would befoul you with Harjit by your side had never entered your mind but his comment jars you into realising you had yet to answer him.

“Yes, I’d like that. Although wouldn’t I get in the way?”

“You’re not that much trouble. You just get a little turned around sometimes,” Harjit looks at you fondly as he speaks, “and a second pair of eyes would be helpful.”

Yes, accompanying Harjit sounded like a very fine way to spend an afternoon. Much more pleasant and interesting than, say, the tasks you currently had planned for the rest of today. At that a question springs into your mind and you find yourself unable to resist asking, “Did you patrol the neighbourhood this morning?”

“No, but I am due to this afternoon.”

Perfect. “Perhaps I could accompany you after lunch?”

“Today? I thought you were going to work on the census again later?”

“Oh, to hell with the census!” you curse and Harjit looks a little startled at the outburst. “Sorry. I mean it though. I could stay out all night and likely as not get the same result I did this morning. Besides, even if I did get any more forms filled out who knows what the Masters are doing with them? Perhaps it’s better for everyone that I’m terrible at my job.” Taking a breath to steady yourself you continued, “What I meant to say is: yes, I’d like to accompany you this afternoon if that’s possible. Maybe then I’ll actually feel like I’ve done some good at the end of the day.”

As the pair of you round the corner you’re on the familiar front of Mrs Chapman’s reveals itself right where you had left it. Your stomach rumbles with anticipation. Having set out so early this morning you had skipped breakfast and now you were feeling it.

Even mushrooms seemed appealing.

Harjit stops and turns to face you, unlinking your arms. “Then I will leave you here and return shortly once you’ve had something to eat.”

“What, not going to walk me to the door? How ungentlemanly of you!”

“I thought even you could manage to safely navigate your way unchaperoned to a building clearly in view, but perhaps I’ve overestimated you,” Harjit teases but even so he starts walking alongside you again.

“Maybe I was just worried I’d be carried off by giant rats the moment you turned your back.”

“I’d have watched you safe to the door, have no fear.”

Testing the handle to your lodgings and finding in unlocked (as was, perhaps unwisely, the custom given how many people came and went from the building during the day) you turn to Harjit and ask, “When shall I expect you?”

“I’d need to have set off by one o’clock, is that enough time for you?”

“Plenty!” You give an awkward little wave at him from the door and then, cursing yourself, scurry inside before you can see his reaction.

... ... ...

You wolf down the leftover mushroom stew that Horatia had left out for you in record time and then sit thumbing your way through this morning’s newspaper without managing to take in a single word on the pages. It was perhaps a little silly for you to be so excited to shirk your job just to help out someone else with theirs but for once you were looking forward to the afternoon’s labour. That had been a rare state for you these past few weeks so who could blame you for enjoying it?

Well, Griz might if she got wind of it.

The house is surprisingly quiet for this time of day so there’s little to distract you from your waiting. You can hear Horatia banging about down in the basement doing god knows what but she doesn’t show her face. Later, as you begin to methodically rip the corners off the broadsheet you’ve given up on reading, Archie passes you with a quizzical look on his way out the door, his little doctor’s kit in hand, but he doesn’t stop to say much more than a brief greeting to you. Griz thankfully is nowhere to be seen.

True to his word Harjit knocks on the door shortly before the clock in the parlour strikes one. Instead of racing to answer it like you want to you remain seated for what feels like the appropriate amount of time to signal ‘no I wasn’t sat by the door waiting for you, I am an interesting person with other things going on in their life’. Only then do you carefully place the now mutilated newspaper back down on the table and approach the door. You open it to reveal Harjit on the doorstep looking much the same as you’d left him.

“Punctual as always Constable Singh,” you greet him.

“I didn’t want to keep you waiting,” he replies.

“Oh, don’t worry, you didn’t! Just give me a second to fetch my coat and we can be off.”

You collect your coat from the back of the chair where you’d tossed it upon your return. Shrugging the garment onto your shoulders you stop to readjust it and check you have everything before leaving. The outer pockets contain mainly scraps of partially completed census forms and other detritus, the inner one holds your house key and what few Echoes you currently have to your name. You give it quick pat down to confirm nothing is missing and, satisfied by the clinking you hear, step out into the misty London air closing the front door behind you. Harjit is patiently waiting for you on the pavement and you scurry down the steps at the front of the building to join him.

“So, what do you need me to do exactly?” you ask as the pair of you set out across the damp paving slabs.

“For now, just walk with me to the end of the street. Then we’ll each take a side and patrol along it. All you have to do is keep your eyes out for anything untoward or out of place, or anyone in need of help.”

“How are we defining out of place? Rats wielding tiny rifles out of place? Sentient swarm of bees out of place? Giant, blood thirsty, man-eating bat out of place?"

There’s a twitch of a smile on Harjit’s face, one he suppresses quickly to avoid encouraging you.

“Anything that you would be alarmed to find. If you’re in any doubt just call me over, better to be safe than sorry. Also, there are a few buildings I will need to check on. You can accompany me into some of them but if I ask you to stay outside, I need you to do as I say. Understood? If you can’t do that then I’ll have to call this whole thing off and you can return to Mrs Chapman’s right now.”

He’s deadly serious, there is no trace of your earlier banter.

You nod in agreement. “Understood.”

Besides, you’ve heard horror stories about what now lurks in the darkened corners of London and if Harjit says a building is not safe then you have no interest in entering it.

Satisfied you’ll do as you’re told, in this instance at least, Harjit walks you down to the end of the road and directs you across to the other side. Then the two of you work your way back up the parallel pavements. It’s quiet outside Mrs Chapman’s for once but you enjoy the gentle exercise and the peace while it lasts. Out of the corner of your eye, through the blanket of light fog, you keep watch of Harjit as he works. He searches with a practiced ease, the picture of efficiency, spending just enough time at each door and alley entrance to determine all is well without wasting a single unneeded second. You try to keep pace with him but it’s impossible to do so and remain satisfied that you’ve paid sufficient attention to your surroundings; in the end you settle for falling behind him. If it bothers him when he has to wait for you at the corner he doesn’t show it.

The remainder of the afternoon is spent in much the same way, the pair of you slowly working your way around Harjit’s designated beat. Not all streets are as quiet as the one Mrs Chapman’s sits upon.

On one a lady stops you to report a burglary. She launches into her complaint so quickly and with such frenetic energy you can’t quite manage to get a word in edgeways to explain that, whilst you might be accompanying a constable, you are not actually one yourself (as so readily demonstrated by your lack of blue coat and badge). Instead, you have to resort to frantically waving Harjit over, an action she takes great umbrage with. Luckily Harjit manages to calm her slightly as he jots her statement down in the little police notepad he carries around with him - although he does have to assure her that you will be suitably reprimanded by a superior for being out of uniform before she’s willing to let the two of you leave. Once you are out of her earshot Harjit drops his head to yours and explains close to your ear that such reports have become increasingly common in the neighbourhood and there was little hope of much recourse for the woman. Whatever had been stolen would be long gone.

On another road you find yourself distracted by a young lad with rosy cheeks and a cherubic face who stops you to ask very politely for directions. You’re about to tell him he couldn’t have picked a worse person and call Harjit over to assist when you turn and notice that he’s already standing right beside you; clutched in his grip is the wrist of a second boy, one whose hand had apparently been reaching into your coat pocket. Realising the jig is up the first lad bolts with such haste you only just catch a glimpse of the tattered back of his jacket disappearing into the gloom of a nearby passageway. The second lad struggles for a moment, clawing futilely at Harjit’s grip while unleashing a torrent of profanity that would make even the most hardened docker blush. Then he goes limp. You, naively, take this for capitulation instead of the feint it is and are stunned when next the boy launches a swift and brutal kick at Harjit’s shin. It has its desired effect, the pain causing Harjit’s grip to loosen just enough for the urchin to break free and flee after his accomplice. Harjit looks set to chase the pair but you talk him out of it. After all, you reason, it’s not like you even have anything worth stealing in that pocket. The worse the boy could have made off with was a crumpled handful of census forms and if the lad could find a use for them he would already have been doing better than you.

Harjit occasionally stops at buildings along your route just as he warned you he would when the two of you had set off. Some are populated and there he exchanges hushed whispers with whoever comes to the door. You stand off to the side, curiosity not quite able to overcome the manners drilled into you. More often the buildings are abandoned. With most of these he doesn’t invite you to follow him (although he rarely expressly forbids it) and on the whole you are content to wait outside; there’s something unsettling about these buildings: the way you could swear they didn’t exist until Harjit stops and points them out to you, the strange shadows at the windows that you have to turn away from to convince yourself it’s just a trick of the light.

This feeling of unease follows you into the one building you decide to accompany Harjit inside of. He on the other hand seems perfectly at home in the strange, decrepit house, more comfortable even than he appeared on the street outside. You cleave close to his back, hand poised ready to reach out and grab his coat sleeve at the slightest danger although it proves unnecessary. When you arrive at your destination, a room toward the back of the house, he invites you to look at the wall. At first there’s nothing there, just musty old wallpaper but you humour him and keep your eyes trained on it. Then it happens; the writing appears. Faint at first, a dull red. Then it grows brighter, amber to yellow to a blazing white like a fire stoked. The lettering is like nothing you’ve seen before, some esoteric ancient script no doubt. You feel the beginning of a headache come on and Harjit, sensing your distress, leads you out of the room. He explains on your way out of the building that some people react poorly to the writing but it should pass quickly now you’re no longer in its presence. Indeed, stood on the steps outside taking in deep breaths of cold, damp London air you feel much better. Harjit apologises and promises you needn’t accompany him into any further buildings, he says he just thought you might find it interesting. You wave his concern off and as you walk away your thoughts flick back to the symbols, turning them over in your mind. They were interesting. Maybe a future expedition to study them in more detail is in order. One when you are better prepared.

Later, after you had reached the halfway point of the route and begun to loop back toward home, you find yourself being hailed over to the other side of the road you’re on by Harjit. Down a darkened alley he shows you to his find - a seemingly abandoned litter of kittens, their piteous mewling clearly audible from the discarded crate they find themselves in. You crouch down to get a better look. They’re darling little things, barely old enough to open their bright blue eyes and you can’t help reaching out a finger to gently pet the closest silken head. Your mind promptly sets to work conjuring all manner of excuses to give to Horatia to convince her to let you keep them: they can live under my bed, I’ll feed them scraps from dinner; when they’re grown they’ll keep the rats out of the basement; just look at their tiny faces, how can you say no to them. Your thoughts come crashing to a halt however when it turns out the litter is considerably less abandoned than originally thought. Their mother returns, hissing and spitting contempt at the two of you and you beat a hasty retreat before she can sink her fangs into any wandering fingers.

By the time you two have circled back round to Mrs Chapman’s the afternoon has slipped well into evening. It’s hard to tell time without the sun to guide you but the lamps have been dimmed somewhat into what passes for dusk in the Neath. Your feet ache a little but it’s a pleasant ache. The ache of a job well done. You’re about to climb the steps when Harjit stops you just short of the door.

“You did well today,” he says.

“I got pickpocketed by an eight-year-old and nearly mauled by a tabby cat,” you respond but even the deadpan tone of your voice cannot negate the smile tugging at your lips.

“No beat is ever entirely smooth. I have colleagues who would have handled it worse.”

“Then that is a damning condemnation of the constabulary. But thank you. For all of this. I enjoyed it, and well, I do feel like I’m a bit better orientated in the neighbourhood.”

“How about a test then?” There’s mirth in Harjit’s eyes that from anyone else would have you worried you were about to be made the butt of a joke. “And if you’re not needed elsewhere perhaps a celebratory drink if you pass?”

Curious and thirsty you agree, “Why not?”

“Do you remember the public house we passed on our return leg? Three stories, green door. There was a drunken man hanging out of one of the upper windows singing.”

You have to rack your brains a bit but you think you know the one he’s referring to; a rendition of ‘Down Among the Dead Men’ that tuneless sticks in the memory.

“Do you mean The Gold and Fleece?”

“I do.” Harjit nods. “Do you think you could make your way back there unassisted?”

Up on the surface The Fleece had been your local, although it went by a different name then, but since the Fall your patronage had become sporadic. It had moved and the clientele had changed. You had changed. There had been that period when you hadn’t left your room much (or at all, to be truthful) and even after your recovery you hadn’t felt much up to the kind of socialising one does in a pub. You’d barely recognised the place when you passed it earlier, but yes, you believe you could find your way back to it.

“I do.”

“Then lead on.”

... ... ...

Luckily your confidence was not misplaced and you lead Harjit along the way back to The Gold and Fleece without any embarrassing missteps. The pair of you spend the walk in a comfortable silence, you concentrating hard on which way to turn next and Harjit politely allowing you the time to think. It doesn’t take you long to reach the pub but by the time you arrive you’re ready for a drink. You stop in front of the building before entering, the sound of patrons inside just about audible through the closed green door.

“Well, here we are,” you say with a little flourish of your hand toward the pub sign flapping gently above your heads.

“Well done.”

“Did you ever doubt me?” you tease.

Harjit only gives you a smile in answer, allowing you to draw your own conclusion, then he reaches past you to the handle and opens the door. You step into the warmth of the pub paying little attention to the publican yelling at you to shut the damn door before you let the heat out. Inside is cosy and bright, a pleasant contrast to the chill outdoors. London was never exactly known for its balmy climate but now it finds itself stuck in a cave the weather tends toward mild at best and almost Siberian at worst. At least rain has, for the most part, ceased to be an issue.

It’s reasonably busy inside but not so much that you’ll struggle to find somewhere to sit. Most of the crowd is congregated around the bar but there’s a steady trickle of movement throughout as patrons collect their drinks, drift toward the fire to warm themselves or change seats in an attempt to avoid a particularly raucous neighbour. Occasionally a voice raises above the general background noise of the room and you catch a snippet of conversation; the price and quality of what passes for ale seems to be a popular topic. Harjit’s hand briefly touches your shoulder to attract your attention.

“What would you like to drink?” he asks.

“Anything’s fine, whatever’s cheapest!” you reply, straining to be heard above the din.

“If you’re sure? It is my treat.”

“I'm sure, I’ll go find us somewhere to sit.”

You slip into a side room and onto a bench where it’s quieter as Harjit heads for the bar to order. When he returns he’s carrying two small measures of a dark liquid. Whisky, or an approximation thereof. Not your favourite unfortunately but, well, a free drink is a free drink. You’ll just have to make sure you get the next round in and pick something more palatable. He rests your glass in front of you on the slightly sticky tabletop and places his own opposite before picking up a discarded stool from the floor to set himself down upon.

You pick up the drink and hold it out in front of you in a toast. “To not getting lost! Cheers!”

“Cheers!” Harjit echoes you while reaching out and pressing his glass against the rim of yours before the two of you drink. His lip twitches in amusement as you grimace when the whisky hits your tongue, woody and unpleasant. “I was like that at first. Lucian forced me to drink it until I developed a taste for it.”

You swallow and despite the taste the alcohol is pleasantly warming as it settles in the pit of your stomach.

“And so you plan on doing the same to me?” you ask.

His smile grows, almost reaching his eyes, as he speaks, “Yes.”

“And what if I never develop a taste?”

“Then you can sit there and grimace while we drink.”

Despite the smile on his face there’s a melancholy in his eyes. One you’ve begun to recognise. Harjit can be difficult to read, he keeps his emotions close to his chest and not out on his sleeve. Pleasant, polite, dutiful Constable Singh; at first you’d thought that was all there was to him. Then you thought he was just private, deliberately keeping everyone at a distance with a civil mask. Over the past few months of your relationship however you’ve come to suspect it’s not so much that he’s intentionally distancing himself, it’s just he no longer has anyone close enough to share the parts of him deeper than surface level with. In particular, you’ve started to become familiar with the little tells of sadness behind the brave face he puts on which appear only when he’s thinking of Lucian. In previous conversations you had tried to avoid mentioning his missing lover unprompted but now you think it may be worth changing tack.

“Any progress with Lucian?” you ask.

“No. It appears no one has seen him after you did that night.”

Your curiosity from earlier comes flooding back. “Was that what you were asking about, when we stopped at those houses?”

“Some of them yes. Others I was just checking in on the residents. Sometimes I hear news of a man matching his description but every time I follow it up it’s not him. I’m starting to think there’s a reason he’s disappeared so completely.”

“Oh, I’m sure there’s a reason!” you’re quick to respond. “A very good one no doubt.”

“I meant more that he may have left intentionally and covered his tracks. He was always good at going unnoticed when it suited him.”

“Ah…” You aren’t quite sure how to follow that and go to take another sip of whisky to cover up your reservation. Luckily Harjit continues speaking, removing the need to come up with a response.

“I’m not sure I’d even blame him. There are days when I wake up and can’t picture his face at all, not until I jog my memory with his portrait. It’s only been a few months. I could understand losing some of the finer details of his appearance but to be unable to recall it entirely… Maybe there’s something wrong with me, maybe I was never that taken with him if I can forget him so easily, maybe Lucian picked up on that and left.”

There’s a thought that springs to mind as he speaks but you’re hesitant to voice it, knowing it might be a mistake; that you might be crossing a boundary. The two of you are undeniably friendly but your friendship is still relatively new. Your conversations before this one rarely touched on deeper sentiment; even when discussing Lucian they had been more focussed on practical advice instead of any emotions involved. You sometimes get the feeling Harjit might want to open up about some of the things he avoids speaking of but your relationship had never felt close enough for you to be comfortable bridging the gap. It still didn’t in truth, but you had to put your comfort to one side. This was something you thought needed to be said.

“Please don’t be offended by this–” Harjit tenses as you speak but it’s too late to back out now, “–but I think you should be kinder to yourself.”

You half expect him to clam up or demand you drop the topic. Instead, Harjit looks at you with wary eyes, silent but apparently willing to hear you out.

“I mean it. There is nothing wrong with you, in fact I think you’re dealing with all this remarkably well. This thing with Lucian... you’re going through a terrible loss and you’re handling it with a strength I think very few could manage.”

“Terrible? There are people down here who have lost entire families, lost their homes and businesses or their lives. Loss is hardly unique in London these days, even if the circumstances around Lucian’s disappearance are unusual. He’s just one man. One man who was only in my life for a few years. I still have a job and a roof over my head. I’m still breathing. That puts me in a far better position than plenty of people down here.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to grieve—”

Half a scoff escapes his mouth before Harjit manages to rein himself back in. Having recomposed himself his next words are careful and controlled.

“It’s not that—” Harjit glances around the room and lowers his voice a bit. “I’ve dealt with my fair share of grief; grief alone I could handle. In truth, it’s not knowing how to feel about Lucian that I struggle with. The constant shifting between mourning him, to feeling like a fool for doing so because clearly he must have just become bored of me and left and then despising myself because what if he’s out there lost or injured while I sit here forgetting what he looks like? Any one of them I could cope with but all at the same time? I don’t know what to do with that.”

His confession momentarily stuns you but it doesn’t surprise you as much as it could have. There had been moments when Harjit sounded conflicted over Lucian, when you’d written off the bitterness in his voice as being from stress and obviously not directed at his missing lover or worse, himself.

“Right, well… perhaps you could try to cope with them one at a time then?” That had sounded less foolish inside your head. Harjit cocks his eyebrow but doesn’t otherwise respond, giving you the opportunity to clarify. “I mean it. Take some time and allow yourself to properly grieve him, and time to be angry at him, and time to worry about him. You don’t have to say anything, and it certainly doesn’t have to be to me, but I think you should try working through these feelings. Maybe in writing?”

You had expected Harjit to be silent, or at least to take his time replying but his response is instantaneous, “No, if I’m going to go through all this it may as well be with you. I have no interest in writing this down and, well, there’s no one else that I could even begin to get into this with.” He looks around, there’s still no one sat by you but the previously quiet room is beginning to fill out. “But not here. Too many people.”

... ... ...

Harjit leads you back towards your lodging house without saying a word further but unlike before this silence is tense. For a while you think his destination is Mrs Chapman’s but he stops short, on the same road but further up at a building you’d not paid much attention to previously. In fact, you struggle to find evidence of its existence in your mind before this moment. Same as you had earlier in the day the pair of you walk up to an unbarred door and enter the abandoned building without any issue. This time, instead of walking through to the back of the house he leads you into what was probably the former drawing room. This building seems in better shape than the other you visited. The wallpaper appear less decrepit, you are less worried that the ceiling will collapse in on you and there are no traces of the strange writing, or at least they are as far as this room goes.

There’s a small amount of furniture remaining, visible only in the scant light coming through the half bordered up window, dusty but otherwise intact. Harjit pulls two of the chairs close to one another but instead of sitting he hovers by the arm. Only when you take a seat opposite him does he finally lower himself into the chair and even then he remains perched on the edge.

“Alright so… shall we start with the first thing you mentioned, with grief?” you query, finding it almost physically painful to break the long silence.

“We’ll start with grief,” Harjit agrees.

You pause ready to see if he’ll continue speaking but he seems to be waiting for you to prompt him. You’re not sure what to say, not sure if what you might say won’t just make this worse but you’ve come this far and if he is willing to trust your judgement you can summon the courage to try.

“So, let’s assume Lucian is dead,” you begin. “He died that night I saw him, or maybe later during the Fall. What would you do?”

There’s another long pause before Harjit speaks and for a moment you think you’ve started too harshly and he never will, that the rest of the evening will just be the two of you sat in awkward silence and dirty chairs. Then his voice cuts through the room, stronger and clearer than you were expecting.

“There were so many times I’d thought him dead before. Times when he disappeared off on some ill-conceived mission and I didn’t hear from him for days after he was supposed to have returned. But then he would reappear. He would always reappear. I suppose it trained me to always expect relief after any concern. I don’t know what to do now it seems he’s gone for good.”

“He’d disappeared like this before?”

“No, never like this. But it wasn’t unknown for him to be untraceable for a bit. He often got himself involved in things he shouldn’t have. The Great Game, he called it. I’d asked him to be more careful in England when I agreed to come with him, but he laughed me off. Here he had home court advantage, he said, and it would be much easier. Evidently, he was wrong.

“It still feels like any day now he’ll just walk back through the door like he did in the past. I’ve not even tidied up his belongings, they’re still exactly as he left them; although how I haven’t gotten sick of the clutter is a mystery. I wasn’t able to bring many of my own effects with us on the ship here, I travelled with little more than the clothes on my back. So, I suppose they at least stop our— my— the room from looking barren.”

“And would you want to return home, to the Punjab?” you ask, “I know that’s not really a possibility at the moment, but if it were, assuming Lucian isn’t coming back?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. Lucian was the only reason I came to England, with him gone it should be an easy decision to return. I left all of my family and friends behind and have not replaced them here with anything equal to their weight. I’ve not replaced them with anything really, I had Lucian and that was it for the most part. With him gone, I miss them terribly.

“But my decision to leave was not a popular one. I didn’t reveal the true extent of mine and Lucian’s relationship when I announced I was planning to go with him back to London, even the ones who would not have censured me for loving a man would have drawn the line at a British soldier. I know they would happily welcome me back, but I heard so often from them in those last few days before our departure that there was nothing in England for me. Perhaps I simply do not want to admit they may have been right.

“I am an outsider here; a fact this city is incapable of letting me forget and, while I have been amused at London’s quite literal fall, there is still so much of it I cannot stand. But these buildings—“ he gestures around the room, “— these pathways and places that are forgotten to most except the scant few people whose memory they inhabit. London has no shortage of outsiders and here in these secret places perhaps I feel a kinship.

“So, even if the option becomes available to return, I cannot say if I will take it.”

There’s a sort of finality to Harjit’s last sentence that suggests he’s gone as far as he’s willing to with discussing any grief he may feel be it toward Lucian, his homeland or otherwise.

“Do you want to move on?” you ask, “Or we could stick with this topic for a little longer?”

“No, let’s move on. That may not have truly counted as a discussion of any grief I might have over Lucian but I believe it is as close as I can get at the moment.”

“So, next we deal with the idea he may have, er, left you intentionally, was it?”

“Yes.” He nods stoically but there’s anger and hurt in his eyes.

“Alright, so let’s say he has and then you stumble across him on the street. What would you say to him?”

There is no hesitation this time when Harjit begins speaking and you suspect this is something he has wanted to get off his chest for a while, perhaps even to himself, “I’d want to know why. Why leave? Why leave in that manner? To disappear without a trace, without a word. More importantly, why bring me here in the first place? I just don’t understand why. If I was just some silly exotic toy he picked up that was to be discarded later, why let me come all this way?! He knew what it took to get me to agree to follow him to England, he begged and pleaded for me to leave my entire life behind, to take a chance on him. Was that all a lie?

“It took so much to get me to trust him. It went against my every instinct. But I was in love and I thought he loved me, that we would be together until the end of our days; I would not have gone with him for anything less. Was he planning on abandoning me all that time, was he really that cruel and I that stupid? Was it a game to him? To see how long he could string me along for, how far he could get me to go. And then, once some unknown win condition had been met or when he had simply become too bored I was tossed to the side. Could I have prevented this if I was smarter, less naïve? That question haunts me.

“Or did I do something? Did I put too much pressure on him? Did he see something in me that he could no longer love? That I’m the sort of person who would drag a friend from what was supposed to be a celebration to rant at them about the imagined failings of a man who might be lost somewhere, dead or dying! If he did who could really blame him for fleeing in the night?”

You had steeled yourself to sit back, to quietly listen and let Harjit talk himself through this (that was, after all, the whole purpose of this endeavour) but you are unable to let his last comments go unaddressed. “This is what I meant when I said you should be kinder to yourself. You hardly dragged me here, I’m the one who bought this whole thing up. Besides, it’s perfectly natural to feel angry at someone who has betrayed you.”

“I don’t even know if he has. That’s not natural, it’s completely irrational!”

“Those two things aren’t contradictory. And anyway, the whole point of this exercise is we work through your feelings from the assumption that the given scenario is true. For the sake of this Lucian has left you, abandoned you with no word.”

Harjit doesn’t respond, his face a stoney mask. You aren’t sure if he’s conceding the point or if he just cannot bring himself to argue any further. Perhaps you’ve gone too far with that last statement.

“Do you want to move on onto the third thing you mentioned?” Despising yourself, the third thing Harjit had mentioned was despising himself, but you can’t find it in you to voice those words out loud.

“I think I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

You recognise the deflection for what it is and allow him the out, but not before getting a comment of your own in, “Of course. But Harjit, I need you to know. There’s nothing you’ve said here that makes me think any less of you, that would make any reasonable person think any less of you. You’re a good man, one of the best in London—”

“That is rather faint praise.”

“Hush while I’m complimenting you,” you chastise him fondly, and are relieved at the reappearance of what might be the shadow of a smile on his face. “As I was saying, you’re a good man. And I have interviewed what feels like half of London at this point so I am qualified to make that statement. If Lucian couldn’t see that, then that’s his fault not yours. And if he has died, I am sorry and I hope you get some closure in whatever form you need it.”

“Thank you.” Harjit stands and brushes the dust from his coat. “Now, let’s get you home, I’ve kept you much later than I’d planned.”

You follow him back through the dark hallway back toward the street outside. Harjit holds the door open for you and you step through the threshold into the chill of the night’s air. The gas lamps lining the street have dimmed further reminding you of how late it had gotten but across the road there are still lights on at Mrs Chapman’s.

You turn back to face Harjit as he hovers in the doorway and voice a question you’re not sure you want to hear the answer to, “Do you feel any better?”

“Not really.” This is what you feared might happen. “I think it has helped to say some of it out loud, some of the things I couldn’t even truly admit to myself. But right now I feel terrible and exhausted. It’s been a long day for both of us and I just want to sleep.”

“I think that’s to be expected. You’re not going to be able to process these things in one conversation or one night. I’m just… I’m glad you felt comfortable opening up. You do so much for this community, you deserve some support yourself. Even if it is only from someone like me who doesn’t know what they’re doing and can’t tell left from right.”

He says your name, suddenly looking almost vulnerable, “Do you think he abandoned me?”

You answer him the only way you can: honestly, “No Harjit, I don’t.”

“And do you think I’ll find him again?”

“I– No. I think he’s gone. I’m not sure if he’s dead but whatever was done to him, I don’t think there’s any coming back from. I’m sorry.”

The look on Harjit’s face is that of a man confronted with a truth he’d known for a long time without being willing to acknowledge.

“Thank you for being so candid with me. I don’t think I could have coped with you lying in some vain attempt to spare my feelings,” he says.

“Anytime. And if you ever need a second pair of eyes with your rounds again, well, you know where to find me.”

Harjit nods. “I’d best get you back home now.”

You offer your elbow to Harjit and allow him to walk you the short distance back to Mrs Chapman’s. You had considered protesting that it was unnecessary given how the building was just across the street or even insisting that you should be the one to walk him back to his lodgings but you suspected given the events of the evening that would be a step too far for his pride. It had ended up an abnormal evening for the pair of you and the familiar ground of escorting someone home might do him good. The walk across the road takes only moments but by the time you two are standing at the door, ready to part, the discussion in that room feels a million miles away.

It's late enough that the front door to the house has been locked and as you fish around in your pocket for the key Harjit speaks, “I would welcome your company if you do feel like joining me again.”

“I’d like that.” You smile as you produce your house key and turn it in the lock. “And next time we go down the pub I’m buying!”

“Maybe you’ll even be able to drink the whisky without wincing.”

He’s not going to let you live that down is he, you think.

“Ahh, probably not.” you reply with a lopsided grin and, after the pair of you exchange your goodnights, as you turn toward the warmth of Horatia’s parlour and leave Harjit at the door you catch just a glimpse of the smile returning to his face.

#mask of the rose #fallen london #harjit singh #fic: one shot

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aceontheline · 1 month ago

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Romance is Timeless (Main Story): Chapter 4

T//W: Bedroom scene (I will put a text cut before it, so read at your own risk!!!)

Amy and Husk are getting into the groove of things a lot more. Romantic one-on-ones and the like.

Early the next morning, I hear some noise from down in the kitchen, and realize that Husk isn't immediately in bed cuddling with me. A bit dazed and curious, I wander downstairs to the kitchen. On the way, I see Charlie and her father, just idly chatting in the lounge area. Charlie stops me for a moment and informs me that Husk is in the kitchen, making food for us. I tilt my head curiously, asking her if this is the same Husk we know and love, knowing he isn't exactly a world renowned chef or anything. "Yes, it's him. We were supposed to keep it a surprise, but... It's so cute that he's trying for you!" she said, her face beaming with her usual smile. I just smile back at her, joking about the kitchen potentially being on fire. I wander on into the kitchen... Smelling some pleasant mix of aromas. Husk sees me walk in and smiles warmly, walking over to me quickly to give me a hug and a kiss on the forehead.

"Good morning, my little one. I made us some breakfast to enjoy together. I just decided, since I woke up a lil' earlier than usual, to treat you. Whaddya think?" he asks me, gesturing me to the stovetop.

"Looks and smells wonderful! Thank you so much, Husky" I say, kissing his cheek in return.

He smiles once more, his tail somewhat twitching behind him as he moves back to the stove. Before going to sit and have some food, I grab some orange juice I bought not long ago and pour myself a glass, with Husk asking for one too. "Of course!" I say as I pour him one. I bring both glasses to the table and he brings both plates, which look well prepared. He sits down next to me, wrapping an arm around me as we just sit down to eat together. He's made a lovely array of pancakes, eggs, and sausage. For me, he opted out on the eggs and instead just gave me a fruity yogurt.

"I remembered your food restrictions list. Sausage is up there, probably cuz of all the fats and oils. That's why I got... Turkey sausage! It should be better tasting for you" Husk said, before taking a bite of his pancakes. I take a bite of it, smiling softly.

"Mmm... You're right! It is pretty good. I guess I can work my way to regular sausage eventually" I reply jokingly.

We chuckle to ourselves. After that, we pretty much stick to idle chit-chat, talking about the crazy night before. In terms of Alastor, we decided that if he creeps up on us again like that, then serious action needs to be taken, like referring to Charlie (since she's the hotel manager). Switching topics, we speak about potential date ideas that we had for the next week, finally sticking to one of Husk's ideas. A simple night drive all over the Pride ring, getting snacks from the local convenience store, listening to music, and ending it all by finding a secluded spot to enjoy some stargazing. "Sounds lovely, doesn't it, my little rose?" he asks, massaging my shoulders gently. I sigh in relief, feeling the tension in my body start to slowly melt away. "You didn't have to massage me, I was gonna agree anyway" I reply in a joking manner. Husk, then, jokes a bit himself and "threatens" to stop rubbing on my shoulders then. Seeing the pout on my face, he immediately goes back to it with a soft chuckle.

That night, we had immense amounts of fun. Riding along the Pride ring with the music blaring loud. Not a care in the world as we kept on riding. Once the ride was over, we went up to an old hill to go stargazing. While we were sat on the hood of the car, the music was playing in the background and we were sharing snacks together. Under the starlight, we cuddled a little bit and just enjoyed each other's company. We talked more about our current hopes and dreams, as per each other's thoughts to try and make the scene a little less quiet.

"Myself? I obviously just wanna live my life with you as best as I can... Even being under Alastor's damn thumb. Hell, since about a month ago, I've noticed that I've cut back pretty damn good on the liquor. It's a start, but I don't drink nearly as much as I did before" Husk says, rubbing the back of his neck. I kiss him on the cheek.

"Hey, don't discount your efforts. I'm really proud of you. Whether it's one hour, one week, or one year... Sobriety is HARD to maintain. Knowing that the root to your addiction is literally RIGHT there? Probably doesn't make things any easier. But, here you are. One month and severely cutting back. I'm so happy for you" I reply, putting a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

"I seriously don't know where I'd be without you, my little rose. You keep me going on most days. As corny as that may sound, I'm honestly just happy as I can be, having you by my side" he states, pulling me in closer. "What about you, doll? What do you wanna do with yourself?" he finishes, clearly curious.

"Me? I want to just save money and go traveling. I'm a part time realtor now, so I suspect that I'll be making quite the advanced paychecks. But I wanna use them wisely. Experience all there is to experience and have fun. Of course... Hopefully, all with you" I respond, finishing my train of thought with a kiss to his lips.

For the next night though? A simple night in together. We were going to watch a movie together, like the times before we were in a relationship. We'd practically spend entire nights together just in our presence. People would've already thought we were dating at that point, but we'd typically just shrug off the accusations and go about our lives. Though, now, the pretense that we're dating is actually correct. We decided on an older movie that Vaggie recommended to me a while ago, "Dirty Dancing". She said that it was a decent movie, so I wanted to check it out. Turns out, yeah. She was absolutely right. Husk and I were talking through, but only to elaborate on plot points that were happening, and were actually enjoying ourselves throughout. Though, at some point, Husk pauses the movie and asks me to sit on his lap instead of sitting on the couch. I laugh softly, agreeing without much hesitation.

I cozied up in his lap, clearly enjoying the closeness that we had together. Husk's wing lazily wraps around me, almost like a security blanket of sorts. We continue watching the movie, and actually are really enjoying it. We're at the scene were Baby apologizes to her father for lying, but calls him out on his hypocrisy for lying as well. Even as the man refuses to tell the truth afterward, not being so moved to open up, I throw my arms up and say "C'mon! After THAT?!" Husk just chuckles softly, shrugging to himself. "Man's REALLY sticking to that 'I don't want my daughter marrying anyone OTHER than a Ivy Leaguer' nonsense" he says, myself nodding in agreement.

At the end of the movie, during the pivotal dance scene, Husk pulls me off his lap, and looks at me with an expectant look. He holds his hand out as the music picks up a bit, looking to dance with me. I smile softly, taking his hand and following his lead. By the end of the song, he does one of those dramatic dips to the ground, making us both laugh... Then he goes in for a kiss. I kiss him back, feeling the passion in it escalate, enjoying each other's embrace as we continue. Once Husk pulls away, he looks at me up and down, smirking to himself.

"Y'know, doll... Everyone's asleep right now. You wanna...?"

"... Yes" I answer, knowing exactly where this is going.

"W-Wait, really?! Y-Y'know you don't have to. We've only been dating for so long and-"

"Husk. I know. But... I'm really in the mood right now" I reply, kissing him passionately once more.

Part 3: ( Here )

Masterlist: ( Here )

Husk and I head upstairs to his room, while we're still kissing. After a while of just standing in his doorway and making out, he leads me to his bed, gently putting me down on it. He crawls on top of me, looking at my body up and down. We kiss a little more, with him making love bites all along my neck and collarbone. As we continue this, Husk slowly starts to take my clothes off. He sees the lacey bra I'm wearing under my shirt and just smirks at me. "This would look better over... Here" he says, taking it off sensually, putting it on the floor. He sees my bare breasts and slowly makes his way up to them with his hands, which were already travelling up and down my body.

Despite his claws being ever present, he had rather gentle hands. Though, I certainly didn't go without a few marks along my body. He cupped my breasts, squeezing them gently as he made his way down my body, kissing and nibbling all over. Once he got to my intimate area, he looks up at me, almost as though seeking approval. I bite my lip and look at him with half lidded eyes, craving this intimacy. Husk smirks and starts to lick down there. His tongue is rough and feels like sandpaper, typical of a cat. Though, oddly enough, it feels so pleasurable. My hands grip the bedsheets tightly as he tongues around my sensitive clitoris, chuckling wickedly to himself.

"Heh heh... Looks like I found a spot that makes you squirm, eh, doll?" he teases, now using his fingers to rub on it. I squirm under his touch, moaning and whimpering. "Ooohh... Such pretty little noises you make for me. Keep going, Baby" he says in a low, seductive tone, massaging my clit.

"A-Ahh... Husky!" I moan out, my toes curling.

"Hehe, are you gonna cum already? I haven't even started yet, Kitten" Husk teases, continuing to rub it.

After a while of him "warming up", I see his erection twitch in his pants, making me gasp faintly. He chuckles, hovering on top of me once more. He stands up for a moment, taking his pants and boxers off. Surely enough, his member was actually rather long. Definitely bigger than either of my ex boyfriends were, making me chuckle to myself. I reveal that intimate detail to him, making him laugh as well. "Looks like they couldn't measure up. I certainly hope to" Husk says, going back to kissing me for a moment. Suddenly, I feel him slowly pushing himself inside of me, his length making its way into my already wet pussy. I feel the head already inside, making me bite my lip once more. He chuckles, once again teasing me that he's "just getting started".

Husk continues thrusting his cock into me, myself feeling like I'm on the brink of already cumming. I couldn't help it, when I haven't felt this good in so damn long. He continues to run his hands all along my body, paying particular attention to my breasts and my hips. His thrusts inside me remain consistent, rather firm and quick. For the first time in a long time... I feel myself let go. I moan even louder than before, finally releasing around him. Husk smirks, slowly pulling out of me. He looks down at me with devious intent, telling me to get up for a moment. He sits down over the edge of the bed, commanding me to get over his knee. As I do so, he strokes my bare ass, gripping onto it. He, then, spanks me firmly, making me moan loudly.

"You're gonna learn a thing or two... Cumming before me? I'll punish you for that, doll" Husk says, spanking me more and more.

"S-Sorry, Husky... I c-couldn't control it-"

He keeps spanking me, again and again. The redder my ass becomes, the more aroused I am. After he finishes, I get up and make out with him yet again, sitting down on his lap in such a way. His cock is still hard, so I position myself over him on his lap. "Ooh, I like the way you think, doll" Husk says, keeping his grip on my thighs and hips, so I don't fall off. I ride him while on his lap, making him moan and groan. His moans are actually arousing me more, so I become wet once more. He chuckles. "You like it when Husky moans for you, hmm?" he teases, stroking his hand through my hair. He tugs on it a little, making me moan louder once more. As his claws run up and down my body, I already feel myself closer to a second orgasm. However, I do my best to try and hold back the sensation, assuming Husk would want to with me.

After a while of riding his lap like this, I saw that look in his eye. He was certainly close to finishing. He bit his lip and grunted a bit. "Fuucckk, doll... You're so good... So wet. I-I'm about to-!" Husk moans out, thrusting himself up a bit to enhance the feeling. I tell him I'm about to cum again, making him grin wickedly. He keeps thrusting up into me and... The both of us cum at the same time. He slowly pulls me off of his cock, laying me down on the bed gently. Husk immediately goes to cuddle up against me, wings wrapped around me and all. As he settles down, he kisses the top of my head and clutches onto me.

"You were so good, Baby... How was it for you?" Husk asks, kissing the back of my neck.

"That was... The best I've had in a long time, Husky..." I reply, my breath coming out rather ragged.

"Good. Just glad you enjoyed it as much as I did" he says with a gravelly, deep timbre.

After a little while of cuddling like this, the both of us take a shower together, then get ready for bed. We get back to cuddling each other in bed, his head resting on top of mine. Husk turns on his fan for some white noise as we slowly fall asleep, nestled as close to each other as we possibly could get.

#t/w spicy scene #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel oc x canon #oc x canon shipping

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pheita · 1 year ago

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🐙

Hi nonny, sorry for the delayed answer. I was already in bed when the ask came and then I forgot about the ask until I opened Tumblr on my PC This is for "Always Prepared" I just gave a 2nd round of edits For better understand. The scene takes place in some sort of sex club, but everyone is still clothed.

🐙 share a snippet where the character is being a brat/smartass

A man sitting two seats away from her at the bar looked at her in wonder. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed his gaze and turned to him. He wasn't ugly, but he wasn't a person you'd notice quickly either. On the street, she would have surely passed him by, but that was exactly why bars like this were so interesting to her. Slowly, she rearranged her crossed legs and turned more toward the man. "Is there anything I can do to help?" "I'm just surprised a lady like you hasn't been approached before." He tried to smile, which seemed a little intimidating. "Well, you just did that now." "If you want to look at it that way." He set down his mug and extended his hand. "I'm Markin. I've never seen you around here before." "I just moved in a few months ago, too." Markin's face brightened, and he slid his chair a little closer. "I figured you weren't from around here. Most women stop dying their hair colorfully when they get past thirty." She had to grin. But she had already noticed that fact herself a long time ago. "I'm just different from most." "That's for sure." He tried to get Tashwyn's attention. Someone took advantage of that moment to come up behind Nesryn. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, which tempted her for a moment to punch that person in the face, but she remembered in time that it would only draw unnecessary attention to her. Instead, she turned around with a sour expression. "Is this weakling bothering you? I can have him kicked out anytime, you know." The man in front of her had the dimensions of a young Arnold Schwarzenegger and the slimy grin of a pimp. The temptation to smack him came up again. "Don't worry, we were having a very nice conversation until just now." "Let me introduce myself. I'm Goshki. Councilman Goshki, in case you're not sure." At that moment, she understood what Pashyn and Tashwyn had against him. "I'm sorry, I'm just here on a slightly longer visit at the request of the Highest Dragon Alashtaire, so I'm afraid your name doesn't ring a bell." "Oh, you don't have to, my dear. This is the only thing that has to tell you anything." Goshki put on a strained expression. Seconds later, he had four arms. Nesryn didn't even twitch an eyebrow. By living in the academy, she was familiar with every form of magic by now, and she had seen students who could transform more easily and far better. "Until you can pull off that trick with your little friend and do it in such a way that they both work, you can stick those show-off tricks where the sun don't shine." Tashwyn next to them inhaled sharply. She had managed to get to the other end of the bar, then something like this happened. "What do you mean, show-off tricks?" "I see students every day who can do it with more ease. Or can even turn into animals. You can't impress me with that." "You live in the academy?" Goshki's eyes poked out and there was a small vein at his temple that throbbed violently. Nesryn threw back her hair and smiled at him. "As I said, I am a guest of the Highest Dragon Alashtaire, who has placed me in the students' quarters due to lack of facilities. If you like, I can get you some tutoring, it seems you are clearly out of practice." He gasped and stomped off. Tashwyn reached across the bar for Nesryn's arm. "Have you gone mad, sweetie? That could have turned out very differently."

#writblr #writing #pheita answers #always prepared

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agentsquirrelsgotrobots · 1 year ago

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OK, I had to write this. Warning that this is a long post, but I couldn't help myself.

Charlie didn't know what to do.

He had heard about the invasive metal robots, but wasn't prepared for the idea that Griffin Rock would have to deal with them.

Sure, there was a seeker or two that would land on the mountain to rest for a few hours when migrating or if there was a storm, but only once did they stay longer than a few days. The town was too close to the mountain for their comfort, and being an island, he didn't think he would have to worry about the car ones.

He was wrong.

He came home after work to a busted open garage, his kids all thankfully still working or at school. There were four of them, one helicopter, a fire truck, a bulldozer, and a police car, all sitting in a huddle in the back corner of the garage by the boiler.

He did the sensible thing.

He called his kids, and Cody's school.

They would stay at the Greenes until they left or the town could build a new firehouse. The worry was that they would have a bunch of babies and overwhelm the town, but by now, Charlie knew that the state and federal government was well versed in evacuating and resettling towns that had been taken over by stranded bots like them. Still, it was weird to see a flier among them.

But, they seemed friendlier than the stranded seekers and didn't attack Charlie's car when it went down the driveway, so maybe they were a little more accustomed to being around humans.

He started panicking, however, when Kade called back and said that Cody had been sent home sick and might be trapped upstairs.

Charlie then noticed that they were all huddled in one corner, chattering and grumbling curiously.

Charlie took a risk. He got out of his car, careful to make sure that the door made just enough noise to announce his presence.

The helicopter noticed first, pulling back fins on the sides of its heads and ducking behind the police car bot with a nervous chatter.

The police car petted its head and gave Charlie an inquisitive look. It got up from where it was sitting and approached Charlie, not leaving the firehouse, but still sticking its head out of the destroyed door.

So this one was reasonably friendly. At least, it was used to being around humans, and without a nest, it didn't mind being nearby.

Charlie knew that would change if they managed to have a successful herd, but they would likely leave if they were looking to settle like that.

He knew it wasn't unheard of for seemingly infertile bots or ones that were done having pups to cluster together and stay in one place, especially if they found a town they liked. Charlie once again sent a prayer to whatever God would hear him that they were not going to have babies and that they were friendly.

The bot suddenly - inhaled? A loud whooshing rang out as whatever ventilation system the bots had sucked in air. The police car chattered at the other three, and Charlie noticed that the fire truck was holding something very gently. The fire truck chattered back before setting something on the ground in front of him and making the bulldozer stand up.

Charlie forced himself not to move or make a sound as a sniffley and definitely feverish, Cody spotted him. Cody thankfully remembered all those safety talks he had done for the town and got up slowly and carefully, being sure to make every movement deliberate and trackable as he stood up and slowly walked past the police car bot, out of the firehouse, and behind his dad. Charlie told him softly to get into the car before, without taking his eyes off the bots, getting in himself. He backed out of the driveway slowly and let out a sigh of relief as the police bot turned around and sat back with the other three bots. He drove at a very slow speed until he was out of sight of the firehouse, then slowly brought the car back up to speed.

He handed Cody his phone and told him to first call the mayor and tell him that four robots had taken over the firehouse, and to put out an alert to watch for any unknown vehicles for the time being. He also told him to call Cody's doctor, as he not only wanted to make sure that he was alright but also to get that fever checked out.

Unsurprisingly, Cody came away with barely a scratch, just a bruise on his back from being picked up off the couch and some strong medicine for his high but manageable fever.

Kade got chewed out for leaving Cody home alone at the firehouse instead of bringing him up to Ezra, but really, Charlie was just thankful that the bots let him go. Usually, when humans get abducted, the robots will let them free once the victim makes a move to leave as long as they don't hurt them. Charlie guessed that the sucking air sound was the police bot smelling him and comparing his smell to Cody's and deciding that he was his kid.

But, there were cases where, if the bot was able to feed the victim, they would try to keep it. Eventually, the victim would either die of an accidental injury or escape. Charlie heard of a story of a selectively mute boy who was still being held by a group of seekers in Colorado. The local police couldn't do more than leave bottled water, clothes, and food for him. The latest update on him was that they were able to at least get thar stuff to him semi regularly, and it appears that the seekers were taking good care of him.

That night, they were woken up to the helicopter bot knocking on the windows lightly, peering through the curtains and warbling in that high-pitched, slightly musical way that reminded Charlie of the seekers.

He wouldn't go away until he knocked on Frankie's bedroom window and woke both of them up. When he saw Cody, he waved, left a hunk of stone in front of the shredded garage doors, and left, still chirping the whole way.

Charlie funneled everyone into the kitchen, and between everyone, they combed and posted on all of the message boards and social media sites they could find. The general consensus was, say goodbye to any idea of normal, you just got adopted by a pack of bots. The message boards advised them to continue their routines as normal without disturbing them in order to get them used to you coming and going if at all possible. Staying put will get them used to you staying put, and they might prevent you from leaving if they think you might not come back.

Later that morning, a woman named Dot reached out, saying that she had gone through something similar, except she was the kid taken in by the bots. She stressed to them not to run from them, as they would just keep following them until either they took Cody or integrated themselves into the Burns family as a whole. She showed them pictures of Megatron and her when she was a kid, and a more current one of her own children and the troop of helicopter sparklings playing with her kids. The final photo convinced Charlie to jump on the offered video call.

"Have they left anything for you?" Dot asked, wasting no time. "Rocks, bits of fabric, piles of metal? Remember, they think we are smaller versions of them and will act as such."

"They left a big rock outside!" Frankie said.

"Good, they are at least trying to get more than just Cody involved. It's a good sign. They recognize you as someone important to Cody. Let me guess, they also broke down the garage doors?"

"Yeah, both sides, too."

"So they haven't been around humans for too long. It was the same with Megs. He would pull shutters and porches off. They want to get close, and if they haven't learned how to move obstacles, they will likely brute force through them. They might start roaming around soon, people watching and learning where things are. Don't hide from them if you are outside, and stay away from the windows if you are inside unless they come up to them. Take their gifts if you can, and stay calm around them at all costs. They might not understand that you are scared of them because to them, they are just trying to see if you want to join them. Unfortunately, your only choice is to say yes. They are likely too new to populated areas to know how to move on from a no. I have to go, Megs is getting jealous of the computer again." She logged off, and Charlie closed the computer with a sigh.

The Burns (and Frankie) all piled into both Charlie's cruiser and Dani's beat-up clunker and headed back into town. There was a minor traffic jam caused by the police car briefly batting at a stoplight before carefully stepping around the cars that didn't pull over when they saw him ahead. Luckily, he either didn't see the cruiser or ignored it for now.

Both kids came to school late, but the main office expected that. The rest of the family stayed at the police station to hopefully not receive any calls. Unfortunately, they were not that lucky. There was a bad car accident due to the helicopter suddenly landing in the road. Curiously, the bot had pulled the two cars apart and had already got the three people inside the cars out, breaking a fire hydrant to put out an engine fire, crushing the engine when it wasn't enough to snuff the flames.

Chief brought Dani along, and the only injuries were minor cuts and some big bruises from being pulled out of the cars. The bot waited patiently for Dani and Chief to separate themselves from the crowd of people and pulled out a ripped bedsheet, setting it on the cruiser before transforming and flying away, dropping down a few streets over, presumably to see the police car.

And so the process continued, with multiple video calls a week from Dot and Alex, the Burns slowly built up trust with what would soon be dubbed as the Rescue Bots by the town.

Everything was going smoothly until the fire truck left the firehouse. Up to that day, only the helicopter and the police car had been seen outside by onlookers, and besides coming over to set up an orange trespasses-at-your-own-risk fence out of snow fence, Charlie hadn't been by there much. Kade, Dani, and Graham had been there more often by Dot's advice since they weren't there originally, the bots might not have been able to make the connection that the three of them are the same people they can smell on the stuff in the firehouse. The helicopter was very interested in Dani, handing her a rock and gently ruffling her hair. The green bulldozer, who once wandered out of the woods with an armful of those blue crystals that people have seen bots eating on occasion, had taken an interest in Graham in the form of trying over and over again to talk to him, talking in excited beeps and chirps. Graham always just smiled and stood still until the fire truck called him back inside.

That day, the truck had wandered out of the firehouse, picked up Charlie's cruiser, and brought it back to the firehouse, with Dani, Kade, Cody, and Charlie inside. He wandered back to the firehouse and set it in the garage, the bulldozer blocking the doorway by laying against it. With the police car poking his head in through the other door and the fire truck tapping the cruiser's doors and windows impatiently, they really had no other choice but to leave the car.

The fire truck lit up when he saw Cody, his headlights flashing and smile beaming. He nudged him with a finger, a soft rumble of his engines being cut off when Kade stepped out.

Boy, o boy, did he not like Kade.

He hissed and stepped in front of the bulldozer, plating puffed out and tiny claws sliding out of his knuckles. The bulldozer sat up and put a hand on the truck's back, a soft purr whispered from his throat. The truck relaxed, and he took out a rock and handed it to Charlie, barking sharply at the police car. It moved out of the way, admitting a bouncing and hyper helicopter. It picked up Dani and brought her to the back corner of the garage, opposite from the one Charlie had found them in the first time, showing her a nest made of branches, metal, fabric, and anything else that caught the bots' eye. Notably, there was a little section that was all blankets and the red couch. Dani realized that they had moved the nest when they decided to include the Burns in their pack.

She also realized that this might have been the last time they were allowed outside. The helicopter put her on the couch, and she decided not to risk it.

Charlie looked around, realizing that they had really taken over the place. The fire truck was nowhere to be found (Boulder had taken it into the woods after Heatwave had gotten jealous), and everything even remotely soft had been relocated to the corner that the helicopter had put Dani in. The rescue alarm had been smashed, likely because the system went off automatically even if the power and water had been cut off remotely.

The garage doors had been removed completely and had been used as the walls of the nest, the brick dust and scrap metal being swept out of the house with a bunch of tree branches tied together with fabric. Chief knew that they were quite smart, just that for one reason or another, their race just chose to be nomadic by default rather than settle down in groups outside of blood relation or a mating/friend group, a fact that is stressed and repeated whenever people start to see them too much like funny animals rather then potentially dangerous groups.

Against his better judgment, Charlie wandered away from the car, not surprised when the police car took it and walked outside with it. He heard it fall and assumed that he had carried it away from the firehouse and dropped it. He then came back in and smiled.

The meaning was clear. No more vehicles.

Charlie's radio went off, and he answered it. There was an altercation at a bar in town. Surprisingly, the police car transformed and opened its doors, revving its engine. Kade and Charlie climbed in, Charlie experimentally putting his hands on the wheel and turning it. He could see the police car turning its wheels in that direction, and Charlie took it to mean that he didn't mind being driven.

The police car suddenly sped up towards town, and Charlie stepped on the brake lightly. The car slowed down, and when he pressed on the gas, he sped up. They made it to the bar, and the two Burns broke up the fight and apprehended the people responsible for it. Surprisingly, the robot opened the back doors for the arrested men, and after Charlie took care of handling the paperwork and handed them off to the other officers, he went back out to the robot standing with Kade in his chest, fighting to unbuckle his seat belt. The bot kneeled down and picked up Charlie gently, opening his chest from the side and letting Charlie climb in. He waited for him to buckle in before transforming and driving back to the firehouse.

And so, an uneasy friendship slowly turned into a stronger one over nearly five years of the bots living in the Burns' garage.

Up until Dani came downstairs one day to find the fire truck sitting in a thankfully small puddle of his own fluids, the glass of his chest cavity open as a tiny blue helicopter, a red fire truck, and a light blue and green tow truck squirmed inside, a forth orange, probably some sort of construction vehicle, bot nuzzled the helicopter's neck.

The fire truck pulled the tow truck out of the tangle of limbs and handed it to the bulldozer before he hit the ground and hissed loudly. Dani nodded at him, and he pulled out the other two sparklings and closed his chest up. He handed them to the police car and, with great effort and some help from the helicopter, managed to stand up and take a few staggering steps over to the specially made, huge shower.

It took a lot of planning and coaxing, but Charlie was able to get a construction crew in long enough to finish the renovation. The bulldozer stubbornly kept sneaking in, lining up the tiles used in the shower and opening any toolbox left unattended in his reach. They also installed a lift big enough to fit the helicopter since it slipped multiple times over the years landing on the sometimes icy driveway, along with a big TV for the helicopter. He couldn't understand what was onscreen but liked any bright, vibrant TV show that came on. For the Burns' sanity, it was usually muted, but always on.

The police car opened his chest cavity, and the bulldozer set both of the pups he was holding inside, turning back to the nest. He removed everything with fluid stains on it, heading outside to the dumpster. Dani walked over and took out a few sheet sets from the supply closet. They made it a habit to buy out any bedding that got put on sale exactly for this reason. Not that they thought they would stick around this long, but so when the bots inevitably shredded something past repair (surprisingly, the red couch has completely held up), they could just replace it. That didn't mean laundry didn't occasionally get stolen off of clothes lines, but it did mean that it was usually the Burns' clothes.

The fire truck came back out, dripping wet but clean of - birth fluids? There wasn't any pink stinky gunk on him anymore. Dani reminded herself to pick up some good wax and polish for the poor truck. By the staggering steps and whimpering moans whenever he stood still for too long, it wasn't a fun process.

Later, when she was giving the truck a nice, warm wash, really, just a whole spa day of as much attention as he would let her give him, she noticed that the back panels of the truck's cab were puckered and bent in a few areas.

Out of curiosity, she and Charlie had pulled up the footage on the security cameras that night and watched as two pups came out side by side, the helicopter pushing the tow truck's head back in so he can pull out the tiny fire truck , the helicopter being born breach and nearly getting its rotors ripped off, finally ended with the little orange bot, which slide out in a rush of fluids that was caught by the way the chest cavity was set up and presumably either filtered back into the body or drunken by the newborns. The whole process, from the back of the fire truck's back wall opening to the complications to the final pup being born took less then forty minutes, most of that time taken up by the stuck helicopter. By their own research, most humans that have seen or caught a bot being born on camera noted that it almost never gave any indication of pain through the process unless something went wrong or was interrupted in some way. Also, four in one litter was not unheard of but is just as uncommon in bots with ground based vehicle modes as it is with humans.

The other three bots took care of the bots by themselves, only giving the pups back when the truck wanted them, usually only the other fire truck.

Cody occasionally found himself being picked up and taken to the fire truck, either being held until he wiggled to get down or being set on the edge of a pile of sleeping robot pups.

They grew fast, and once they started getting big enough to be rowdy and play rough, the bots didn't let any of the humans into the nest.

During all of this, a rescue team from the mainland had to be called in and groceries had to be delivered, because the bots would not allow more then one or two of the Burns out of the firehouse at a time, and be default, it became Cody and Charlie. Unfortunately, it was the dead of winter when the pups were born, so Cody not leaving the house until the bots feel comfortable with it is out the window. Charlie, unfortunately, still had to fight with the mayor that even though they are friendly and fine around humans, they absolutely can not be used for or around tourist attractions, especially with the pups.

Eventually, winter turns to spring, and by the time Graham is back with his masters degree the year after that, the pups are big enough that most of the aggressive guarding instincts are replaced with a bit more of a free range approach, the pups roaming around the island in a little pack while one of the bots keeps an eye on them. By then, they had all been back to work on their usual drop-in and help routines for a few months now, with the bulldozer staying behind the majority of the time with the pups.

Eventually, they each get a few cute interchangeable nicknames just like their parents, and, like clockwork, one day, Charlie climbs into the police car and notices that his back walls are a little bit swollen, and pats that one spot on the dash that he likes while congratulating him on the future litter.

Surprisingly, the Rescue Bots never leave Griffin Rock, even long after the last of the Burns bloodline moves away and dies out. They don't, however, let anyone do more than clean out anything that can rot and occasionally repair and run maintenance every month on their plumbing and electrical systems so they had the TV and shower working, even if a few townspeople had to volunteer their garages for a few weeks when it needed a serious repair or renovation. After every storm, snowfall, or windstorm, the town sends the repair company that the bots like the best to do a full sweep of the firehouse to inspect for and repair any damage. The pups, now grown, are all spotted in the town each at least once every couple of years or so, even the ones that left the town as soon as they could. The little fire truck was the only exception , a true mama's boy through and through, who moved into an abandoned house in the suburbs and is seen frequently with its parents. There are sightings of a red drone and blue helicopter flying with a whole troop of military helicopters out in the southwest, and the orange construction bot ran off one day and resurfaced in Nevada, following a red sports car mech with a large internet following and its family.

The light blue bot somehow ended up in Tokyo, Japan, tailing a green mech known for cleaning and maintaining all the stones and the grounds of a human friend's final resting place. People will often leave flowers and small items for them to decorate the graves to their liking, often giving the groundkeepers and anyone who visits an item and a dried flower.

I was rereading some of the earlier invasive species posts and I noticed that Rescue Bots have only been mentioned twice: once by me with Medix, and the other when either you or an anon (I already forget oof) mentioned the Burns walking into the firehouse and noticing four vehicles they definitely didn’t have before. So I’m here with another idea for the RBs in invasive species.

That being Heatwave/Blades/Chase/Boulder polyamory with their children Hot Shot and Hoist. Hot Shot because he’s way too much like Heatwave for his own good and Hoist because he has no where else to go (Whirl has been claimed by Milfatron, I mentioned Medix earlier, and Wedge is confirmed to have ‘con parents)… and for whatever reason I connect him and Boulder in my brain.

Genetics(..?) wise, Hot Shot definitely takes more after Heatwave (who I imagine is the carrier, but ney—) and maybe a bit of Blades, while Hoist is definitely more Chase and Boulder.

So just… the Burns having to deal with these four bots who love each other very much and their two Sparklings who are (maybe twins and) very curious.

(Feel free to delete this)

WHY WOULD I EVER DELETE THIS? THIS IS GENIUS 🤩

Poly rescue bots?! Sign me tf up! And they have two adorable babies? Even BETTER!

I hope the little ones were born at the fire house, cuz that's just too cute. My go to for the carrier in these situations is usually Blades cuz he'd just glow going through a carrying cycle, but if you wanna say Heatwave is the mama, I'm here for that too!

Regardless. Their bitties (twins?) are born at the Burns' family's place, whether they like it or not. Things are definitely tense in the beginning, especially with the sires being hissy and protective, but over time their families starts to get along and merge. The sparklings are fascinated by the squishy things that live with them! Always toddling after them and inviting themselves into the house to find a cuddle buddy or get into some mischief

This has so much potential tbh 🥰 feel free to throw more ideas my way if you have them!!

#maccadam #tfrb cody #cybertronians are an invasive species

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dxckgrxsonx · 2 years ago

Text

I’ll Prove It

Pairing - Jason Todd X (F) Reader Words - 1.7k Warnings - SMUT 18+ - Graphic Sexual Content - Oral Sex (F!Receiving) - Jason Todd would absolutely kiss your pussy before eating you out - He’s a cocky son-of-a-bitch too - Swearing. Notes - hhHHhhh I couldn’t help myself. Jason would be so good at oral, I just know it.

MASTERLIST

There’s adrenaline and courage and a burning question in the back of your throat.

The question you want to ask doesn’t come easy. It sticks and bruises at the inside of your mouth, splinters like glass and punctures you straight through the tongue. You think you have one hand locked tight around your own throat to keep you from opening your mouth.

It feels disloyal, maybe even dirty that you want to ask, want to put the words out into the judgemental face of the world. Part of you is prepared to weld your mouth shut, prepared to twist the question into something less revealing, less shameful.

But you need to know.

If you don’t ask now, you worry that you’ll never gain the courage to do it again.

“Jay.” You say, and try to ignore the heat rushing up your neck. “Would you enjoy giving your partner oral?”

His reaction is immediate, and resembles being struck by a live wire.

“Wow. Did they seriously not do it? Not even once?” Jason queries, something unreadable in his voice. His focus darts to the person sitting by the bar, eyes narrowing in scathing judgement.

You don’t know what to do with your hands, “Uh. Not really, no.” You manage to get out, and Jason nearly chokes on a growl. “They said it was too much work, that it takes ages for me to, um...”

You trail off, the words roll around bitterly on the tip of your tongue. You’re not sure if you’re ready to admit that your ex thought you took too long to finish, that they thought that there was something wrong with you and had given up on trying to make you feel good.

You don’t know if you want Jason to know that. It feels almost like betrayal, not only to them, but to yourself.

What if there is something wrong with you?

“Say it.” Jason demands, voice utterly unyielding. He leans in to hear you better and your heart skips when you realise he’s almost looming over you. All quiet dominance and borderline protection. The focus in his eyes would be unnerving if you didn’t know him as well as you do, didn’t know that he’s offended on your behalf. “Come on, darlin’. Say it for me.”

You swallow, your throat feels like it’s going to close up. You can’t look him in the eye. You still don’t know what to do with your hands, “They said it took too long for me to come, that there was som--that something was wrong with me.”

Jason swears, and you think it sounds more like a snarl than anything else, syllables ground together and gnashed out from between his teeth. You look into his eyes, the vibrant green is mesmerising.

You swear they’re glowing.

And underneath all that beautiful colour, you see something challenging rush in like a storm.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” He finally says, tugging a hand through his hair. Jason throws another furious look towards the bar, quickly coming to a decision in his head. “An’ I’ll fucking prove it.”

You can’t look at him.

You’ve got your head tipped back to the ceiling, thoughts fraying at the edges like so much cheap rope. You try to duck your head, try to meet his gaze. But you can’t. Heat splashes over your cheeks and you chew on your bottom lip. It’s goddamn impossible.

Jason presses his palms over your knees, sweeps them back and forth in an act of comfort. There’s a flutter in your chest, almost like there's something alive and kicking behind the cage of your trembling ribs.

Jason pauses. Then says your name, softly, sweetly, like he aches right down to his bones, “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I want to.” You reassure immediately, finally dropping your head enough to look him in the eye. “Jay, I want to. Please.”

He presses a kiss to the sensitive skin at the inside of your knee and your fingers shake, throat suddenly thick, “If at any point you want to stop–”

“I’ll tell you.” You interrupt.

Jason exhales, you think it might be in relief. His palms skate up your thighs, nudging the hem of your dress higher and higher until he stops when the fabric just covers your underwear. Stroking the pad of his thumb up and down your slit, Jason sucks in a breath through his teeth when he feels your wetness start to soak through the thin fabric.

“Oh, you poor baby,” He breathes, “Your pretty little cunt really didn’t get much attention, huh? I’ve barely even touched you and you’re soaking through your panties.”

Your head thunks backwards against the mirror. A bathroom isn’t exactly the best place to be. But you think that if Jason Todd offered to eat you out in the middle of a crowded room, there wouldn’t be much protest on your behalf.

He slips the damp fabric down your thighs and tucks it in his back pocket.

“I’m getting those back, right?” You ask, head still resting against the mirror. “I can’t exactly walk out of here with no underwear.”

“Sure you can.” Jason says, and you feel him grin against your inner thigh. “I don’t see a problem with you not getting them back.”

You lean forwards, hunger shredding your insides, “You’re not keeping them.”

Jason growls, eyes flashing up from between your thighs, the green is glowing. His hands shove your knees apart, spreading you open in a way that has you wanting to hide your face. A dark smirk flutters over his face, teeth sinking into his lower lip when he sees the puffy lips of your pussy glistening.

“I’m keeping your underwear, baby. You don’t have a choice. I at least want something to remember this by.” He drawls, voice deep and low and catching on the wicked edge of his Gotham accent. Firmly holding your thighs apart you feel his gaze on your cunt. “Fucking hell, look at you. You’re so wet, sweetheart. I can tell you haven’t had much attention lately.” Jason spreads the lips of your pussy apart and you feel your clit twitch and swell under the attention. “Don’t worry, pretty girl, I’ll show you what you’ve been missing.”

Embarrassment sinks its teeth into your throat.

Cockiness isn’t something you’d usually find attractive. But Jason pulls it off like it’s second nature, like it's something weaved into the very fabric of his being. He glances up at you like he’s better than you, like he already knows that he’s going to ruin you. And unsurprisingly, half of you wants to punch him directly in the face.

But he looks good.

He looks really fucking good.

And when he presses his mouth against your weeping cunt, the urge to fight him flickers and dies.

Jason kisses your pussy, kisses your clit. He moves, presses a light smattering of kisses over your thighs and stomach. His mouth is wet. You’re fidgeting, hips trying to chase after his attention. He moves further away each time, trails his mouth in the opposite direction to where you want him.

Digging your fingers into his shoulders you whine, “Jay, c’mon–please.”

Licking along the crease where the top of your thigh meets your hip Jason hums, thumbs still holding your pussy open. Finally dropping down, he presses his tongue against your leaking hole, collecting your wetness and smearing it up to your swollen clit.

It twitches against his mouth and you gasp when Jason sucks at the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“You’re so sensitive.” He mutters, sucking harder just to yank a jolt out of your body. “Bet I could make you come from just a few little kisses.” The thought of Jason kissing your pussy until you come has your head spinning, has you aching to the point of almost pain. Arousal leaks out of you, “Oh,” Jason smirks, “You like the idea of that, huh?”

Moaning in agreement your hips buck. Jason shifts his grip, uses his incredible strength to hold you still.

Dragging his tongue over your clit he gives it long, flat licks. The pressure has your eyes rolling back, fingers quickly sweeping through Jason’s hair. You never knew it could be like this, that oral could feel so good. He suckles at the little bud and you keen, muscles trembling.

“Shit-fuck-shit.” You gasp, chest heaving. “Jay, you’re s’good.”

Using one hand, Jason dips two fingers into your clenching pussy. Sliding them up to the second knuckle he twists his wrist, drags the pads of his thick fingers against that soft, spongy patch inside you and coos when you whine.

“There you go, baby.” He praises, crooking his fingers and fucking you slowly. “You taste so good. Gonna ruin you for anyone else, your pretty princess cunt is mine now, ain’t no one going to eat you out better than this.”

Grinding against his mouth you mewl, thighs shaking horribly.

Your slick coats his fingers, starts leaking over his palm and down his wrist. Jason moans into your pussy, sucks at your clit until it twitches hard between his lips. Tracing random letters over the swollen, twitching nub he catalogues your reaction to each movement, files it away in his head then pulls it forwards, uses it against you.

He gets you right to the edge with barely any effort at all.

Your head is spinning, you can’t think straight.

Jason sucks hard at your clit, fucks you with his fingers, and your limbs lock up tight. Shaking apart in his hands you choke on a garbled moan, hands grasping at his hair, his shoulders, anything to offer support as your pussy convulses against his wicked mouth.

Working you through your orgasm Jason refuses to let up until you start trying to pull away, start shoving his head in an effort to get him to stop licking and sucking at your sensitive clit. He lets you go, glances up at you, eyes fucking electric.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, “Told you, sweetheart. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

#jason todd x reader smut #jason todd smut #red hood x reader smut #red hood smut #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction #cannot get the thought of Jason kissing ur pussy out of my head #send help man down #ella writes

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