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ssa-dado · 2 months ago

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7 - Cogito, ergo Sum

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader

Genre: slow burn, sad just sad stuff, angst

Summary: On a train to Riverhead, you confront buried memories of your father’s death and the complex emotions stirred by Peter’s welcome back party, where Hotch’s past with Haley left you feeling like an outsider. Hotch, haunted by memories of his abusive father and first love with Haley, grapples with his choices and regrets. Meanwhile, Hotch and Peter clash over your safety and personal boundaries on the job, discovering the next target of a series of poisonings. Warnings: Grief, domestic violence, emotional abuse, anxiety, CM case. This is quite sad

Word Count: 4.5k

Dado's Corner: Not me sobbing like a kid while writing this haha. Poor Aaron you deserve a hug. That said, I experimented a bit with the style of this chapter - it's quite cinematic. I drew inspiration from Suits' 2×08 where Harvey goes to visit his father's grave and the narrative interlaces flashbacks, present and the characters' point of view so beautifully. Also - this has a sister chapter coming up next so don't worry.

previous chapter ; masterlist

The train rattled gently as it made its way toward your hometown, Riverhead, each passing mile pulling you deeper into a past you had long avoided. The rhythmic clatter of the wheels against the tracks was a steady, relentless metronome, marking each second that brought you closer to face your father’s grave.

You glanced up to see a little girl holding her father’s hand, her tiny fingers wrapped tightly around his as they made their way to a seat just past yours. The sight was simple, ordinary - something that happened every day - but today, it felt like a punch to the chest.

Watching them, you felt the train become a catalyst for everything you’d been trying to bury; the pain surged, raw and unfiltered, hitting you all at once. The easy affection between them, was a reminder of what you could never have again. Your throat tightened, and tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to spill as you stared at the floor, trying to swallow the ache of everything you’d lost. In that fleeting moment, the emptiness of your own hands felt unbearable, as if the absence of your father’s presence echoed a thousand times harder in the quiet hum of the train.

You stared out of the window, but the passing trees and fading buildings blurred into the background, their muted colors mingling with the fog of your thoughts. You’d taken the rare step of taking a day off to make this journey, a day that was supposed to be about finding some semblance of closure, or at least confronting the loss you’d tucked away behind your work.

But you hadn’t been able to think only of your father. Your mind kept drifting back to Peter’s welcome back party the previous week. Where you sat at the table, Gideon’s words lingering in the air, the concept of thesis, antithesis, and synthesis feeling painfully apt in that moment.

“Everyone, this is Haley,” Hotch said, his voice carefully controlled. “We… we go way back.”

Only now you could clearly see at how Haley smiled, but her eyes were constantly on Hotch, her presence radiating a sense of ease that only came from years of knowing someone deeply. “It’s been a long time, Aaron,” she said, her tone gentle but layered with unspoken memories. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You watched the interaction with a heavy heart, feeling like an outsider in your own team. The connection between them was undeniable, and for a moment, you felt a pang of jealousy, a sharp twist in your chest that you hadn’t prepared for.

You had just started to let your guard down with Hotch, to allow yourself to see him not just as your stoic coworker who would crack a joke every once in a while - but as someone you could trust, someone who understood you. And now, here was a piece of his past that you hadn’t been privy to, thrown in your face without warning.

As the evening wore on, you tried to engage, to laugh at Rossi’s jokes and nod along with Gideon’s stories, but your mind kept drifting back to Hotch and Haley. You couldn’t help but feel the sting of not knowing this part of him, of realizing that no matter how close you’d gotten, there were still walls between you.

At one point, Hotch caught your eye from across the table. His expression softened, a silent question in his gaze, as if he could sense your discomfort. But before he could say anything, Haley leaned in, pulling his attention back to her, and the moment passed.

Gideon, ever observant, leaned closer to you, breaking the awkward silence that had settled over you.

“You know, Y/N,” he said thoughtfully, tapping the cover of the book you’d bought for Hotch, “Hegel’s all about finding balance. Sometimes, the only way forward is to let go of what you thought you knew and embrace the contradictions.”

You nodded, but the words felt too close to home. You weren’t sure how to find balance in this moment, how to reconcile the sudden wave of emotions crashing over you. All you could do was hold on and hope that, somehow, things would make sense again.

Now your mind was buzzing with a mix of emotions: shock, confusion, and a sinking feeling of being completely blindsided. It was in the way Hotch and Haley exchanged glances, the comfortable proximity, the shared history etched in every small gesture. It hurt more than you’d ever thought it would, making everything sounded distant, muffled, like you were underwater.

The gathering had been a lively affair, full of laughter and shared stories, but a specific moment kept replaying in your mind: Haley’s warm smile as she said goodbye to Hotch, “It was really good to see you, Aaron, I’m glad you’re doing well. Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime.”

Hotch nodded, his expression warm yet tinged with a hint of sadness. “Yeah, Haley. Take care of yourself. See you around.”

With that, she gave a small wave to the table and headed back to her group of friends, leaving Hotch standing there, momentarily lost in the past. As he returned to his seat, you could see the way he was grappling with the emotions stirred up by the unexpected reunion. He caught your gaze briefly, offering a small, almost apologetic smile that only deepened your sense of uncertainty.

As she walked away, Rossi had thrown a smirk Hotch’s way, raising an eyebrow as he quipped, “So, old flames burning bright again?”

Hotch rolled his eyes, though there was a faint, embarrassed flush to his cheeks. “Rossi, don’t start,” he warned, though his tone was more amused than annoyed.

“Oh, come on, Aaron,” Rossi continued, clearly enjoying himself. “Haley’s quite a catch. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a little lovestruck.”

Hotch sighed, but there was a softness to his demeanor that hadn’t been there before. “It’s not like that, Dave. We… had our time. It just didn’t work out. She wanted a family, a stable life. I was too caught up in my career, trying to make it into the Bureau. We were just… heading in different directions.”

There was a pause as the table absorbed his words, the rare glimpse into Hotch’s personal life catching everyone a little off guard. You could see the flicker of understanding in his eyes, the acknowledgment of choices made and paths taken, and it resonated deeply with you. It wasn’t just about Haley; it was about the sacrifices, the regrets, and the constant pull between duty and desire.

You had stood on the sidelines, listening, and telling yourself it wasn’t jealousy you felt, but something else entirely. Hotch and Haley’s history was full of things you couldn’t touch, memories you couldn’t rewrite.

The ease between them that felt unreachable, at least for you. It highlighted your own struggles, the way you and Hotch danced around each other’s guarded edges, each too closed off and too stubborn for way too much to admit the walls you’d built were anything but necessary. You had worked hard to break through those barriers, inching closer to something that resembled real friendship with Hotch, but seeing him with Haley made it clear how far you still had to go.

One of your coworkers, ever the instigator, smirked and raised their glass, turning the conversation light again. “Ah, first loves. We’ve all been there, right? High school sweethearts, college crushes, and then… life happens.”

They nudged Peter playfully, their grin widening. “I bet you’ve got some stories, too. You and Y/N? Seems like you two have your own history.”

The comment, though playful, struck a chord. You could feel all eyes momentarily on you and Peter, the unspoken insinuations hanging in the air. Peter chuckled, leaning back in his chair with a casual ease that belied the tension simmering beneath the surface. “Oh, come on, let’s not dig up the past. Y/N and I? We were just kids. We studied, we got into trouble, and then we grew up.”

Rossi, always enjoying a chance to stir the pot, raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? ‘Just kids,’ huh? I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. Seems like more than just studying to me.”

Peter shot you a sideways glance, his smile both teasing and sincere. “Well, you know me, Dave. Always mixing business with pleasure.”

You forced a laugh, though it sounded hollow even to your ears. “Please, don’t encourage him. Peter was more like the annoying older brother I never asked for.”

The table erupted in laughter, and for a moment, the awkwardness eased. But underneath it all, there was a thread of unspoken tension, a reminder that you and Peter’s relationship, much like Hotch and Haley’s, was layered with complexities that no amount of jokes could untangle.

Hotch watched the exchange quietly, his gaze lingering on you longer than necessary. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—was it understanding? Regret? You couldn’t quite tell, but it was clear he was processing his own thoughts amidst the lighthearted teasing. The parallels between his past and what was unfolding now weren’t lost on him.

Then memories shifted, drawing you deeper into the party’s ambiance: the clinking of glasses, the chatter of old friends reuniting, and Peter’s infectious laugh as he moved through the crowd.

You remembered the moment he found you in the corner of the room, handing you a glass of wine with a casual, “So, are you ever going to let me take you out on that date?”

You had laughed it off, deflecting with a joke. “You’d have to catch me when I’m not buried in case files.”

Peter’s smile had softened, and he leaned against the wall beside you, his eyes searching yours in that disarming way he had. “I’m patient. You know that.”

There it was, an offer that seemed perfect on paper. Peter was kind, funny, and someone you could talk to for hours without feeling the need to perform or pretend. He had always been a constant, someone who understood your messy family dynamics and never judged you for them. Yet, for reasons you couldn’t quite name, you had hesitated.

It wasn’t just fear that a relationship might ruin your friendship, though that was part of it. No, this hesitation was something deeper, something that had started to shift within you over the months you’d been at the BAU.

The job had changed you, had made you see the world differently, and maybe that change had rippled into the way you saw Peter, too. He was familiar, a comfort you could rely on, but when he looked at you with that earnestness, you felt a strange dissonance, like you were two notes that no longer harmonized as they once did.

You shook off the thought and turned back to the scenery, trying to refocus. The landscape outside shifted, becoming a blur of rolling hills and scattered houses, but all you could see were memories of the afternoons you’d spent with Peter.

He was a piece of your past that felt safe, steady, and uncomplicated. You remembered the day he’d chosen your mother as his thesis supervisor, the excitement in his eyes as he explained why.

“She’s brilliant,” he had told you, sitting at your kitchen table, his hands animated as he spoke. “I mean, I’ve read everything she’s published. Working with her is like… I don’t know, getting to play with a master.”

Your mother had smirked from the kitchen, where she was brewing tea. “I’m not sure if ‘play’ is the word I’d use,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “But I’m glad you’re eager. I could use someone with your enthusiasm.”

Those afternoons felt like moments frozen in time, filled with academic debates that stretched into the evening. You would sit with Peter, surrounded by books and papers, discussing everything from human behavior to obscure psychological theories. Your mother would occasionally join in, her sharp insights cutting through Peter’s eager optimism, and you would feel an odd sense of belonging, of being seen and understood in a way that was rare. You and Peter fit so easily then, like two pieces of a puzzle that made sense together.

So why now, when Peter had finally asked, did you feel that familiar comfort turn into something that almost felt suffocating? It wasn’t fear, not exactly. It was something more complex, more tangled.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but whatever it was, it had kept you from saying yes. Part of you wondered if it had to do with the person you’d become at the BAU, the person who had learned to live in the shadows, to thrive on the unspoken and the unsolved. There was a distance between the you that Peter knew and the you that existed now, and you weren’t sure how to bridge that gap.

As the train chugged closer to Riverhead, you let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of your own thoughts settle in your chest. This trip was supposed to be about your father, about facing the memories you’d buried along with him. But as the scenery continued to blur outside your window, you realized it wasn’t just him you were here to confront. It was yourself, and all the tangled, unresolved things you’d left behind.

Back in his apartment, Hotch stood motionless in front of his closet, the faint hum of the city outside barely reaching his ears. It was supposed to be a simple, mindless task: changing out of his work clothes, slipping into something comfortable to signal the end of another long case. But that morning, the weight of the past lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating, refusing to be ignored. Seeing Haley again had shaken something loose inside him, memories that he had tried to bury beneath layers of duty, responsibility, and the unyielding armor of his carefully crafted stoicism.

He stared at the closet door as if it were a portal to another time, a past version of himself that he had spent years trying to forget. His hand hovered over a hanger, hesitating before he finally pulled the door open. He reached for a pair of sweatpants, the movement automatic, but his fingers brushed against something unexpected, something soft and familiar. He pulled it out, holding it up to the dim light of the room. It was an old pirate hat, worn and faded, buried at the back of the closet like a forgotten relic.

The sight of it was enough to send a rush of emotion coursing through him, his heart tightening with the weight of memories long left untouched. It was a small, silly thing - a costume piece from a high school play - but it held the echoes of a time when life had felt simpler, when love had been a lifeline rather than a distant, unattainable dream.

Hotch turned the hat over in his hands, his thumb tracing the worn edges. It felt lighter than he remembered, the fabric frayed but still holding the shape that had once made him feel like someone else - someone braver, someone who didn’t wake up every day terrified of what the morning might bring.

Holding it now, he was transported back to those days in high school, when he had first met Haley during their school’s production of The Pirates of Penzance. He could still remember the nerves that twisted his stomach into knots as he stepped onto the stage, feeling every bit the awkward, shy boy who never quite knew how to fit in.

His father’s presence loomed over every aspect of his life, a dark, volatile force that made every day feel like a minefield. Mornings were the worst; he’d wake up before dawn, his heart pounding with the dread that his father would already be up, the stale stench of whiskey on his breath and anger simmering just below the surface.

Every morning, Hotch would lie still in his bed, his ears straining to hear the slightest sound - a creaking floorboard, the clink of a bottle, the unmistakable thud of something heavy being thrown against the wall. He’d close his eyes tightly, his breath catching in his throat as he braced himself for the inevitable: the harsh sound of his father’s voice, slurred and laced with venom, cutting through the stillness of the house like a knife.

“You worthless piece of shit,” his father would sneer, eyes bloodshot, fists clenched. The insults were always the same, a relentless barrage of contempt that felt like punches to the gut. And sometimes, they were. The bruises left behind were easy to hide, but the fear lingered, seeping into every corner of his mind.

But then there was Haley.

Haley, with her bright smile and infectious laugh, had entered his life like a beam of light piercing through the darkness. She was everything his world was not: warm, kind, and unafraid to be herself. He could still see her as she had been that first day, standing backstage with an easy confidence that seemed to light up the entire room. He had been fumbling through his lines, tripping over words as he tried to keep his hands from shaking, feeling the familiar grip of anxiety clawing at his throat. But then she had turned to him, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Not bad, Hotchner,” she teased, her voice light and teasing, breaking through the wall of his self-doubt.

She nudged him playfully with her shoulder, her touch gentle but grounding. “But if you’re going to be a pirate, you’ve got to look the part.” She reached up and tilted the hat on his head, adjusting it with a flourish. “There. Much better.”

He had laughed then, a rare, unguarded sound that felt almost foreign to his own ears. It was a laugh born of something deeper than humor - it was relief, joy, and a sense of being seen in a way he never had been before. That moment had been the start of everything: the stolen glances, the whispered secrets shared between classes, the way she’d lean in close, her eyes bright with something that made the whole world seem less terrifying.

Haley became his first thought in the morning, replacing the dread that had once greeted him when he opened his eyes. Instead of the anxiety that his father would be there, ready to strike, his mind was filled with thoughts of her: the way she smiled, the sound of her voice, the softness of her lips whenever they kissed, the easy way she’d tease him about his nervousness on stage. She was his anchor, the one person who made him feel like he wasn’t drowning in his own fears.

Every morning, instead of waking up with his heart racing at the thought of his father’s rage, he’d wake up thinking of Haley. He’d think of their rehearsals, of the way she’d roll her eyes when he messed up a line but would always follow it with a grin that told him she was proud of him anyway. She had made him feel safe, like maybe, there was more to life than the fear that had defined his every waking moment.

Hotch hadn’t just fallen in love with Haley; he had clung to her like a lifeline. She was the first person who had shown him what it felt like to be cared for, to be valued for who he was, not for what he could endure. She was his sanctuary from the storm that raged inside his home, and for a while, she had made him believe that he could have something good, something real.

But as he stood there now, holding the hat, those memories were tinged with the bittersweet realization of what he had lost. The love that had once saved him had crumbled under the relentless weight of his ambition and the demands of his career.

He had chosen the Bureau, chosen to bury himself in the pursuit of justice, thinking that if he worked hard enough, if he dedicated himself to the job, he could finally be free of the shadows that haunted him.

But in the process, he had lost Haley. He had lost the last piece of innocence that had made him believe he could balance it all: love, career, and a future untangled from the pain of his past. Now, the hat felt like a symbol of everything he had tried to bury, a reminder of the boy he used to be and the love that had once made him feel whole.

Hotch closed his eyes, a wave of grief and regret washing over him as he placed the hat gently back in the closet. The memories of Haley, of the warmth she had brought into his life, were still there, but they were shrouded in the painful truth that he had let her slip away. He had spent so long running from the fear of his father, trying to replace it with something brighter, but in the end, he had pushed away the very thing that had saved him

The shrill ring of his phone cut through his thoughts, jolting him back to the present. “Hotchner,” he said, masking the turmoil beneath his usual calm.

Gideon’s voice came through the line, urgent and clipped. “We’ve got a situation. A series of poisonings in Long Island, targeting public spaces. Libraries, parks, shopping centers. It’s escalating, and the unsub’s leaving messages. We need you here, now.”

Hotch glanced back at the pirate hat before slamming the closet shut. “I’ll be there in twenty,” he replied, shoving the memories aside as he grabbed his coat and headed out the door. There was no time to dwell on the past; the present demanded his full attention.

At the BAU, the team gathered around the conference table as Gideon outlined the details of the case. The poisonings were strategic, each attack aimed at places where people gathered, spreading panic through the community. The unsub’s taunts came in the form of cryptic messages, each one hinting at the next target.

Hotch’s jaw tightened as he scanned the crime scene photos, feeling the familiar pull of duty override everything else.

“We’re splitting up,” Gideon said, his gaze sweeping across the room. “Hotch, you and Peter will head to the latest crime scene. Rossi and I will cover the first.”

Hotch nodded, his face impassive as he gathered his things. He was already mentally mapping out the approach, compartmentalizing the emotional weight of the morning. But as they drove, Peter, clearly uncomfortable with the silence, tried to break the tension.

“You know, about that bet I won,” Peter began, glancing over at Hotch with a hint of a smile. “The date… with her. I’ve been trying to figure out how to make it special.”

Hotch’s eyes stayed fixed on the road, his expression tightening at Peter’s words. The mention of you - the team member who had started to break through the cracks in his own carefully guarded exterior - sent a surge of conflicting emotions through him. His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“Have you really thought this through?” Hotch asked, his voice low, almost a growl. “You and her, both in the field, both seeing the worst of what people are capable of… it’s not as easy as you think.”

Peter shrugged, trying to maintain his casual demeanor, but there was a defensive edge creeping in. “We’ve always been good at separating things. She gets it - she’s smart, one of the smartest people I know. We can handle it.”

Hotch’s frustration boiled over, his tone sharpening. “It’s not about being smart, Peter. This job… it changes you. It gets into your head, your heart. And you’re fooling yourself if you think it won’t affect you both. What happens when you’re forced to make a choice - her safety or the job? How do you keep that from clouding your judgment?”

Peter’s smile faltered, and his eyes flicked toward Hotch, the beginnings of anger flashing across his face. “You don’t think I know that? You think I haven’t thought about it every damn day since I realized I wanted more with her? At least I’m honest about where I stand. I’m not hiding behind this job like it’s the only thing that matters.”

The tension between them was palpable, the car’s interior charged with unspoken words and unresolved conflicts. Hotch’s gaze remained fixed on the road, but his mind was racing. Peter’s words hit closer to home than he cared to admit, scraping against wounds that had never fully healed. Peter’s willingness to embrace his feelings, to take the leap Hotch had always hesitated to make, stung in a way that was hard to articulate.

“You don’t get it, Peter,” Hotch said finally, his voice quieter, more resigned. “You have no idea what it’s like to live with the consequences of those choices. I’ve seen what it does to people, how it tears them apart. This job… it doesn’t let you have a normal life, no matter how hard you try.”

Peter stared at him, searching for something in Hotch’s expression that he couldn’t quite find. “Maybe not. But I’d rather take the risk than spend my life wondering what could have been.”

They lapsed into silence, the argument left hanging between them, unresolved. Hotch felt the weight of Peter’s words settle heavily on his shoulders, mingling with the guilt and regret that had been simmering beneath the surface since seeing Haley again.

He didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know if he even had the right to. Peter’s defiance, his willingness to fight for what he wanted, was a painful reminder of the choices Hotch had made and the things he had lost in the process.

When they arrived at the crime scene, Hotch pushed all of it down, shoving the emotions into that familiar place he rarely let himself go. The crime scene was chaotic, with officers milling about, evidence markers scattered across the library floor.

Hotch’s keen eyes scanned the room, piecing together the unsub’s method, the subtle clues left behind. But something caught his attention: a bulletin board crowded with flyers and notes, too chaotic at first glance, but hiding something.

He moved closer, pulling back layers of paper until he found it: a cryptic message, written in neat, deliberate script. As he read the words, his blood ran cold, the implications settling like lead in his stomach.

The riddle painted a clear picture of the next target. Hotch’s hands trembled slightly as he stepped back, the reality sinking in.

Riverhead.

The place you were right now.

Without a word, Hotch turned and sprinted out of the building, his heart pounding with a fear that went far beyond the professional. This wasn’t just another case. It was personal, and every second mattered.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #hotch x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds x reader

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wcbblife · 6 months ago

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Paige as a girl/boy mom HCs! (pt 2)

a/n: hope you enjoy bc this has taken over my mind completely.

Boy mom:

If he ever goes into basketball, she'll coach his little league team and the resemblance between them is uncanny. They're both competitive and when he makes a shot, she'll do those small celebrations (y'know what I mean. Like those she does in games when she's at the bench).

She's a sucker for his toothy grin. Especially if he has some missing teeth when he's a toddler. I think they would remind her of her brother when he was little so much.

In the mornings she has to wake up at the crack of dawn for practices or games, you swear he has a superpower because he always wakes up early too. Those are some of your favorite times because those slow mornings are unusual with such an energetic toddler. He’ll just follow her around and once she’s done with the basics, she’ll pick him up and do the rest of her things with him sleeping on her shoulder.

They would 100% plan one of those cheesy birthday surprises for you. Like they’ll turn on the lights and scream with matching grins while breaking into a birthday song simultaneously.

Your favorite sight is them both waking up with equally tousled hair and matching sleepy faces. I mean he may be your kid, but Paige is literally in every single crevice of his face.

He constantly challenges her by telling her that he’ll finally beat her in video games, but he never can. She does share with you that she’s worried he finally will one day because he’s a fast learner. But it's almost a tradition for them to sit down at least once a week and battle it out.

He also always challenges her to do different celebrations whenever she scores. And he’s always glued to the screen to see her pull it off. It’s a way for them to stay connected while she has games far away. They ask her about it, but she always stays quiet, wanting the tradition to be a secret of theirs.

She looooves to see him wear her jersey. It gives her the motivation to absolutely destroy whoever she’s going against.

You find it funny that he always copies her face whenever she has a tough finish in a game. Like they both have the exact same celebration face (that face scrunch she does as well as screaming towards the air while flexing). Again. Literal twins.

I get the feeling she will just… hold him up by his leg while they’re playing. Then just show him to you like he's a trophy while he dies of laughter.

Both have the same sleeping stance and sleeping face. Mouth opened with an arm and leg slung haphazardly around. She never believes you until you take a pic of them both sleeping one afternoon.

She calls you guys when she’s away and he’ll just snatch the phone to talk to her. They’re usually late after a game.

“Hey… Isn’t it your bedtime?” Paige's voice comes through the phone, tired. “But mom, I just missed you so much! The game was so close I just couldn't go to sleep” You see her smile through the call, “Alright bud, I'll give you this one.” After you three talk some more, they both fall asleep mid conversation, and you could only smile.

Girl mom:

Talking about games, her favorite thing to do after her games is bury her daughter in kisses and watch the way she shies away because they tickle. She’ll be locked in at the end just looking at her and you and she’ll break into the widest smile once you two come walking towards her.

She would 100% be one of those players that does her press conferences with her kid in her lap. Sometimes she’ll be too distracted by her, and her coach will silently ask you to take her for a bit but there's no separating those two. You also would never think of taking her away because Paige literally lives for you and her baby girl.

I think Paige loved to give her baby those early stages baths. She would be so gentle and lowkey scared as she cradles her and passes moist wipes all over her tiny body. It lowkey calmed her down after a hard day to see her girl so calm and peaceful.

Would tease her baby girl by acting like she’s not going to pick her up cuz she gets super fussy about it. She folds way too quickly though.

Has her camera FULL to the brim with pictures of her sleeping and looking adorable. Definitely has 0.5s of her too. Makes her laugh wayyyy too much.

Does that thing where she taps her daughter's mouth really fast while she shouts so that it sounds really funny. If you get what I mean?? It makes them both laugh way too much.

Omg she definitely dances with her by making her step on the top of her shoes. After so many of her birthday parties with music it's basically a tradition for them to do now. It is your absolute favorite thing in the world because Paige is just so tall.

Paige never failed to give you a heart attack when she was still a baby. I feel like she would make a makeshift baby carrier with her morning robe and just walk around with her while the baby snoozed.

At the beginning, Paige used to wear bright blue or pink or just neon colors so that her daughter was able to recognize her in court.

Tea parties happen a lot with those two. You’ll open the door to find them sipping on the non-existent liquid while faking some funny accents. They’ll just turn to you with a look of “Can we help you?”

#women's basketball #wcbb #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader

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itsnathateasy · 1 month ago

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aot characters reacting to you asking them “what are we?” (part 2)

warnings: just fluff word count: 1,4k author's note: i’m sorry if your fave isn’t here, even tho it’s a part 2! i focused on the characters i connect with the most, also, why did i go so overboard with zeke lol

read part 1

⭑🌻 ⭒🤎 . ✦ 🙈 . ⁺ . ✦ 🙈 . ⁺ . ✦ 🙈 . 🤎⭒🌻 ⭑

reiner simply goes “what do YOU think we are hehe…” you could tell he was being more awkward than before you popped the question, because he kept rubbing his palm on the nape of his neck, as he was getting more and more red by the second. “i guess i need some reassurance reiner. we’ve been dating for a while and i’d like to know what lies ahead, are we an item or are we casual?” “damn y/n, do you really wanna be in a relationship with me?” at this he plopped himself down on the chair, burying his head in his hands. “ugh… you do remember i’m in love with you, right? and you wanted to talk about moving in together soon, but we need to check another box first” you didn’t think you were being too mean, but reiner was silently sobbing?? (poor baby!) “hey… reiner… you don’t have to respond right now, i’m sorry to upset you… but we need to talk about this soon, yeah?”, you ran your hand from his shoulder, down to his arm. “nothing to talk about y/n… i’m in love with you too, i just… i can’t believe you see a future with me, you know?” you moved closer to him and he parted his knees a bit to rest your head between his legs as he kissed you on the forehead. “we’re an item, y/n, and we’re more than good… we’re more than good”

bertholdt didn’t understand the question at first, and asked you to “complete your sentence, y/n! what are we doing? what are we up to? what do you mean?” but the look on your face was enough for him to register the information and simply go “oh”. he sighed as he moved closer to you, clapping his hands together once (and quite awkwardly) before he spoke. “i know that i’m having the time of my life with you, everyday spent with you is wonderful and i love you so much. if the same applies to you, i’m confident we can make this official. what do you say, y/n?” your response being burying yourself in his arms and squeezing him as tightly as possible.

annie would probably give you a good glare when you ask her this, examining you with her gaze, not sure if you’re playing tricks on her or if you’re being serious. eventually, she’d drop the “playing it tough” facade and talk things through with you. “we probably should’ve talked about this way sooner, don’t you think y/n?” she questioned as she leaned her head closer to yours, your heads accidentally banging on each other, resulting in the both of you bursting into laughter. “well, you know what they say annie, friends who headbang together, stay together, i’m sure we can apply it to lovers too”, she smiled at you contently, one of the few times when her smile reached her eyes, her pupils dilating as she stared into your orbs. “you know what y/n, i’m certain we can apply it to lovers” she said as she sloppily banged her head on yours again.

historia gets so nervous she ends up crying, you have to console her back to calmness. it’s not that she’s bothered by your question, but it was too soon for her. “just let me explain myself, y/n”. she told you all about why she reacted like this, the main reason being she’s lost all of her family and many friends and is afraid to properly commit to anyone for fear that they might be gone as well. “are you willing to stick by my side y/n?” she asked you with pleading eyes. when you reassured her that you have all the time in the world, she finally relaxed into your embrace.

pieck was working on your car, half of her body presently concealed by the machine. however, she responds at once, not a tiny bit phased by your inquiry. “we’ve been dating for a while now, i think it’s high time we made our relationship official. plus, with zeke and porco being in town these days, it’s easier to plan our formal dinner, don’t you think? of course you should contact your friends too and make sure at least some of them are able to attend on such short notice. how about two sundays from now? we should get some decor too, right? and a banner that says “just married”, as a joke of course. we can discuss marriage after the party. y/n, are you still there?” she questioned when you didn’t respond. “just wasn’t expecting you to be so eager about this, but yes, it all sounds amazing pieck! can you come up from the car now so i can kiss you?”

you caught zeke in the midst of him completing some paper work, he was so focused, he paid you little mind. “what was that, y/n?” he asked. you didn’t respond, your arms folded on your chest. you weren’t dropping this AGAIN. you’d tried to discuss this matter with him before, but he’d asked you to put it off. this time, you were determined to get a proper answer, even if it meant waiting for him to acknowledge your question. “are you for real now?” he looked up at you, pen falling on the side by the way he was relaxing his grip on it. “i’m for real zeke. i can’t go on like this. i see so many of our colleagues flirting with you at the office and you do nothing. how am i supposed to feel? if i’m your sneaky link, i’d much rather know about it”. zeke pushed his papers aside and patted on his legs, motioning you to sit in his lap. “i never realised this was so important to you, i’m sorry. in my head, we’re very much together, but i see why you want to let the world know. also, i’m not addressing my colleagues’ flirting, as i never addressed yours…” at this point he pinched your cheek playfully “because we work together and i’m trying to keep things drama free, so i’m being friendly and declining their offers. but it’s just you and me babe, don’t worry your mind too much” he put his fingers on your chin, softly pulling your face upwards so that you’d face him. “do you want us to drive together at work tomorrow and walk in holding hands? hm? would that be okay with you?” “yes, zeke, but can we also do that everyday after tomorrow too?” “if that’s what you wish for, love” he said as he kissed you softly.

petra blushes all over and avoids your gaze. as the seconds pass and you get no response out of her, you realise she’s spiralling, you have to pull her out of her thoughts, which you do with a gentle squeeze on the arm. “no need to worry about it, petra. i’d just feel so much safer about us if i knew where we’re standing”. she put her own hand on yours, touching it softly before moving it away from her arm, so that she could hold your it in both of hers. “it’s understandable, y/n, this… conversation’s been long due… but we’re in a relationship, i think. i mean, we’re officially in a relationship. this is what you want too, right?” “yes, petra, of course it’s what i want!” you hugged her and kissed her all over her face, and, as if it was possible, she kept blushing more with each peck. “do you think we should tell captain levi, y/n?” you held back a laughter, before admitting that it was captain levi, who, in fact, encouraged you to talk things through with petra. “so… you mean that captain has known this entire time?” poor baby almost fainted out of embarassment.

yelena isn’t amused, and i mean, not at all amused, she thinks you’re pulling her leg. “seriously, y/n, you ask me this after you’ve met my family, been sneaking away with me during your patrols for months on end and basically everyone knowing we’re together??” she was glaring at you, her gaze filled with anger. “shit yelena, just making sure… we’ve never really discussed our relationship status before, that’s all… please don’t look at me like you’re about to kill me”. at this statement, yelena calmed down a bit, she hadn’t realised you were unsure of where you two stood. “i can forgive you neglecting your duties, but not you not thinking you’re mine”

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creedslove · 1 year ago

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WE CAN'T 💔 - PART TWO

Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: things aren't great between you and Javier after you refused going out with him, but you two are just too stubborn to admit your feelings

(This is the second part of the WE CAN'T 💔 drabble)

• PART ONE

Warnings: angst, a tiny bit of fluff, Javier is a dick

A/N: guess what, I rewatched the McPickle scene and got jealous again 😀🤌

1.3k

Waking up the next morning to a cold empty bed, knowing that if you hadn't refused Javier's invitation, you would probably be waking up in his bed, or having his weight and warmth next to you; if maybe you hadn't felt so disgusted by Javier's clear acquaintance of those hookers, you would be lying next to him. It was a bittersweet feeling, on one hand, that was definitely a deal breaker for you, it made you uncomfortable to know he was just so regular for those girls he had certain intimacies such as knowing their real name, and not only that, they liked him, they giggled and blushed when he was around, whenever some of them were arrested for whatever reason, they'd always ask for Javi and of course, he would be nothing but sweet to them.

You could handle it if it was in the past, if you knew you could overlook that behavior, ignore the jokes around the office and give him a new chance, but the problem was mainly because Javier didn't simply want that; he was more comfortable in his evils ways, shielding himself from any commitments, running away from relationships and feelings, never wanting to settle down and allow himself to feel things, to him, the deepest connection he engaged was one where he didn't have to face any rejections nor personal attachments; he paid, he fucked, he came and he sent home. When he dared break the cycle he found himself so comfortable in it, he got rejected by you, so he vowed himself he wouldn't give you or anyone another try. He was fine just the way he was, not even knowing what came to him in order to make him have that awful idea of asking you out. He just didn't have the patience to go through it all over again, first dates, getting to know each other, flirting, and all of the ritual before he could actually sleep with the person, so he would stick to Helena, Gabriella, Vanessa and all the girls who loved pleasing him.

He wasn't sure how he would act once he faced you at work, he decided not to worry about that, burying his face into Vanessa's neck while she moved her hips against his, his cock throbbing at the feel of her tight pussy. He closed his eyes and fought hard the urge of pretending you were in his lap, he didn't want to, you'd refused him, he didn't want to even think of you, all it mattered at that moment was his pleasure and his pleasure alone.

•••

However, facing Javier in the office wasn't as bad as you thought it could be, just as you would never know he was also anxious about it. You were worried Javier would treat you like shit, would be rude or mean, and he worried you would spread what happened through the office, telling everyone you refused him, because of his ways. And yet, neither of you did what the other feared. Things were a little tense, Javi kept a lot to himself, not talking to you unless it was necessary, but when he did, he was soft and polite. The flirting and compliments were missing, but you would survive that. You liked Javier, a lot. But you two were incompatible and nothing could change that.

So days turned into weeks that passed by really fast and before you could even realize things, your birthday was right around the corner; in the meantime a lot had happened: you and Javi drifted away from each other, Connie had left Steve and the chaos in Colombia continued draining the three of you in a spiral of violence and depression, but once in a while, you felt the need of shaking things up and having fun, and because of that, you decided to throw yourself a small birthday party. There would be a cake, booze and some friends from work. Steve had already confirmed, being totally lost without his wife, not knowing if she'd broken things up with him or not; some other friends from work also said yes, but there was one missing: Javier Peña.

When you walked to his desk, he was on the phone, mumbling and chuckling, you could hear the name Gabi. You fought all the desire you had of rolling your eyes and walking away from him, but the moment he noticed your presence, he ended the call and turned his attention to you.

"Hey, Javi… my birthday is coming up next week, I'll have a small gathering at my place and I'd like you to come.. you don't have to bring me any presents, though"

He was quite surprised at the invitation, nodding and telling you he'd be there.

You were so excited about your party, getting ready and dressing up so nicely for it. People didn't take long to arrive, Steve was the first, of course, being the upstairs neighbor, he got to your apartment to help you up with everything. You chatted about many things, Connie, Peña, and work, and you realized Steve was actually pretty nice. Not that you didn't know that, but you often only paid attention to Javier, he was the only one you wanted to see.

As the party went on, you couldn't help but stare at the door every now and then, wondering what time Javi would be there. You were kind of excited to see him, perhaps you missed him, or perhaps you wanted him to see you, desire you and realize what he'd been missing because of his inability to seek cheap comfort.

But just as you waited through the whole party, Javier never came. As people began saying their goodbyes and leaving, you realized he probably didn't even have any intentions of showing up in the first place. He was such a dick, you couldn't even believe you even thought you could be friends with him.

Steve could tell you were disappointed and he knew exactly the reason why, better saying the reason who, you were disappointed in the first place, so he decided to stick around some more, helping you clean up and gather the empty liquor bottles.

As you were dragging one garbage bag full of them through the hallway, Javier walked in. His arms were locked tight around Gabriella's waist and you stopped dead in your tracks as you stared at them. The hooker swallowed looking at the two of you and feeling the tension in the air. Javier licked his lips and remained silent. He didn't know what to do, should he wish you a happy birthday or should he pretend he'd forgotten about it. Your heart was shattered, even if you didn't know if he did that to get back at you for declining his date or if he just did it out of cruelty, but it didn't really matter, at the end of the day, it just showed you you mattered less than a hooker to a man who claimed to have feelings for you, a man who claimed to at least care about you as a friend.

Steve walked towards you and held your face between his hands, learning forward and kissing your lips. His hand stroked your cheek, at the same time his warm lips were against yours, you didn't expect that kiss to feel so good, just as you didn't expect him kissing you at all.

As he broke the kiss, he smiled at you softly

"Good night, Y/N" he said gently and turned to Javier "night Javi" he said as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't just kissed the woman Javier had feelings for but was too much of a coward to stop hurting her. Steve went home feeling glad; Javier deserved to see you with another man after breaking your heart just as you deserved some affection, even if Steve didn't love you, he cares about you enough to try and give you a special moment in your birthday, something Javier didn't even try doing it.

____

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tempobaekh · 1 year ago

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Between Realms

Pairings: Ga Motak x Scarlet Witch!reader

Warnings: angst, tiny bit fluff maybe?? idk? I think my shitty story writing should be a warning as well

A/N: I’m having a Motak brainstorm right now. Like the amount of ideas I have to merge marvel and tuc bc why tf not? So this is fic number one of my idea and I have another one in the works. I kind of hate this one but also like it idk this gotta be my worst work. Also an idea from my babe @slytherinshua made me come up with this<3

The Counters' new place buzzed with activity as they analyzed, in their eyes, a new threat that had emerged.

Y/N, considered an evil spirit, had become an enigma even they couldn't comprehend.

Possessing abilities beyond their comprehension of just how strong she was, she was a force to be reckoned with.

But she wasn't using her immense abilities to harm others; she had become an anti-hero, despite having powers that can cause utter destruction, she chose to use them to protect those around her.

You see she was an innocent victim that was unfortunate enough to be targeted as the host to the evil spirit.

When Y/N was conducting study in a lonely library that not many people visited, that is how she got into this strange situation.

This library contained a strange collection of mystical artifacts, scrolls, and books, many of which had been untouched buried deep inside the library.

In her quest for knowledge and understanding of the mystical arts, Y/N stumbled upon a seemingly harmless amulet. This amulet was decorated in complex runes and symbols from several spiritual traditions, exquisitely covered. Unknown to Y/N, the amulet was more than just an artifact; it was a prison.

The amulet had been crafted centuries ago by a powerful sorcerer who sought to imprison an evil spirit of chaos and destruction, a spirit even Yung wasn’t aware of.

The evil spirit was known for its ability to corrupt and consume the souls of those it possessed, granting them immense power in exchange for their humanity.

Y/N, driven by her insatiable curiosity and the desire to harness the amulet's hidden potential, decided to wear it. In doing so, she unknowingly triggered the amulet's ancient enchantment. The evil spirit, dormant for ages, sensed a new host and seized the opportunity, merging its essence with Y/N's consciousness.

The fusion was not without its struggles. Y/N fought to maintain control over her own mind and body, while the evil spirit sought to dominate her.

It was during this internal struggle that Y/N's powers began to manifest, Y/N's powers allowed her to manipulate and harness a mysterious energy source that appeared as scarlet-colored manifestations when she wielded her abilities.

This scarlet energy was a visual representation of her power and became closely associated with her.

Which earned her the name Scarlet Witch.

The Scarlet Witch attire is a manifestation of her powers and her connection to the evil spirit within the amulet. It's a distinctive outfit that combines elements of traditional mysticism with a touch of modernity.

Her attire doesn't materialize automatically. She can summon it at will when she chooses to engage in combat or tap into her Scarlet Witch powers.

This allows her to blend in with regular clothing when she doesn't want to draw attention to her abilities.

The attire consists of a flowing crimson robe adorned with arcane symbols, it also includes a headpiece with a red gem that helps channel and focus her powers.

While wearing the Scarlet Witch attire, Y/N's powers are enhanced and more focused. It allows her to harness the full extent of her reality-warping abilities, manipulating the environment and creating illusions or defensive barriers as needed.

Y/N can control when the attire appears and disappears, giving her flexibility in choosing when to use her powers discreetly or to engage in battles against the Counters or other threats.

The attire serves as a symbol of her unique situation, a reminder of the evil spirit within her, and her ongoing struggle to keep it in check. It's a visual representation of the duality within her, embodying both her heroic and potentially destructive capabilities.

As she grappled with this newfound power, Y/N realized that she could control the evil spirit within her to some extent.

She used her abilities to keep it in check, preventing it from causing harm to others, or taking control over her and using her as an extension to do its evil deeds.

However, she also understood the danger she posed, should the malevolent spirit gain the upper hand.

So she started to distance herself from everything, from the world.

Y/N's life took an unexpected turn from that moment onward. She became a reluctant anti-hero, determined to protect both herself and those around her from the evil spirit's influence, even though her using the powers was seen as evil.

This intricate dance between good and evil formed the foundation of her struggle in keeping everything at bay, despite being physically and mentally tormented by the evil spirit within her.

Y/N's first encounter with the Counters was entirely unexpected. She had been living a relatively solitary life after merging with the evil spirit and gaining her Scarlet Witch powers.

Her primary focus was on controlling the evil entity within her and using her abilities for personal defense rather than offense.

One fateful evening, as she was attempting to contain the evil spirit's influence in a deserted part of the city, her powers inadvertently drew the attention of the Counters, as she unknowingly stepped in their territory.

The Counters, always vigilant for signs of supernatural disturbances, sensed a powerful and unusual energy source in the vicinity.

They were going in this mission blind, not knowing the full extent of powers Y/N had as she was so powerful that Hana couldn’t even tell which level evil spirit this was.

As Y/N struggled to maintain control over the malevolent spirit, her powers caused a rift in the fabric of reality, which the Counters detected. They rushed to the scene, expecting to confront a malevolent spirit wreaking havoc.

Hana, being the vigilant and pragmatic member of the Counters, initially believed that Y/N was just another evil spirit posing a potential threat to innocent people.

She saw Y/N's powers as a potential risk to the balance between the realms, and her skepticism made her determined to follow the standard protocol.

During the initial confrontation with the Counters, Y/N found herself overwhelmed and facing a team of skilled individuals who were determined to subdue what they believed to be a evil spirit.

She had the power to defend herself, but her moral compass guided her to avoid causing harm.

As the Counters closed in on her, their combined abilities proved too much for her to handle without revealing her full potential.

She decided to surrender peacefully, knowing that it would be the quickest way to show them that she wasn't a threat, and that she just craved help, she wanted to separate herself from the torture that was the evil spirit.

Once captured, Y/N was taken to a specially prepared containment chamber within the Counters' headquarters. The chamber was designed to neutralize supernatural entities and prevent them from using their powers to escape or cause harm.

The chamber was a dimly lit, translucent enclosure with intricate protective runes etched into the walls and floor, personally made by the people in Yung. The runes acted as a barrier, preventing Y/N from using her powers to manipulate the environment or escape.

The room had a cold, sterile feel to it, amplifying her sense of isolation and confinement.

When the Counters confronted Y/N during that initial encounter, she was faced with a difficult decision. Her life since merging with the evil spirit, against her will, had been one of isolation and struggle.

Controlling the evil entity within her had taken a toll on her both physically and mentally. She had experienced moments of chaos and danger as she tried to grapple with her newfound powers.

Before merging with the evil spirit, Y/N had led a relatively normal life. However, the traumatic experience of the evil spirit's possession had left her scarred. She had seen the damage it could do, not only to others but also to her own sense of self. The spirit's relentless attempts to take control had caused her unimaginable pain and suffering.

Y/N had made a vow never to harm innocent people, driven by a deep-seated fear of becoming the monster she had seen within the evil spirit. Her powers were both a blessing and a curse, and she carried the weight of that burden every day.

Y/N's emotions during her containment were complex and conflicted. She felt a mix of fear, frustration, and a deep sense of injustice. She knew that her intentions were not malicious, and she had hoped to live a quiet life, free from the evil spirit's influence.

However, being confined and treated as a threat by the Counters stirred feelings of anger and helplessness. She also felt a sense of isolation, as she couldn't fully explain her situation to anyone without risking further misunderstanding.

It was during her capture by the Counters that Y/N's connection with Motak began to form. Motak, who often kind of acted like the leader of the Counters, was known for his calm and compassionate demeanor, even in the face of supernatural threats.

He was the first among the Counters to sense that Y/N was not the typical evil spirit they had encountered.

As Y/N was contained within the Counters' headquarters, Motak spent time observing her.

He sensed her inner turmoil, her struggle to control the evil spirit, and her genuine desire not to harm others. Something about her vulnerability and the conflict within her resonated with him on a profound level.

Over time, Y/N began to open up to Motak. She shared the story of how she had come into contact with the evil spirit and the traumatic experiences she had endured since. Motak, in turn, shared stories of the Counters' mission and the moral dilemmas they faced.

Their conversations deepened their understanding of each other, and an unspoken connection formed between them.

Motak was drawn to Y/N's strength and resilience in the face of adversity, as well as her determination to use her powers for good, and he could not deny that Y/N was utterly beautiful, a sight for sore eyes.

Y/N, on the other hand, found in Motak a kindred spirit, someone who saw the potential for good within her despite the darkness that loomed.

His unwavering belief in her goodness and his compassion touched her heart in a way she had not expected.

Ga Motak was conflicted. He stood by the glass doors, peering into the room where Y/N was contained. Her powers radiated like a cosmic storm, but she held them in check.

She was not the menace they had expected.

In the midst of the chaos, Hana, the fierce and determined member of the team, was resolute about their mission. She argued vehemently, "We can't let this continue, Motak! Y/N is dangerous, just like any other evil spirit. We must summon it and put an end to this!"

Motak remained silent, his eyes fixed on Y/N. He couldn't bring himself to treat her like a typical evil spirit. Something about her drew him in, an unexplainable connection that transcended their roles.

Y/N, once she had established a degree of trust with the Counters, thanks to Motak being a big help, attempted to explain her unique predicament.

She told them about how she had unwittingly merged with the evil spirit through the ancient amulet. She described the trauma and pain she had endured in controlling the spirit's influence and how she had developed her powers as a result.

However, even with her heartfelt explanations, there remained a degree of skepticism among some of the Counters, particularly Hana.

She was still wary of Y/N's powers and the potential threat they posed.

The Counters knew that to fully address the situation, they needed to deal with the evil spirit trapped within Y/N.

So they formed a plan.

Their plan involved summoning the spirit and finding a way to separate it from her without causing harm.

Y/N, having a deeper understanding of the evil spirit's nature, offered her assistance in this process.

She believed that she could use her powers to create a controlled environment, a kind of pocket dimension where the spirit could be safely contained during the separation and summoned back to Yung.

Y/N's powers were intertwined with the evil spirit due to the amulet's fusion. The Counters recognized that her abilities could be a valuable asset in their mission to protect the balance between realms.

Therefore, the plan was not to completely strip her of these powers but to separate them from the malevolent spirit.

To achieve this separation, the Counters devised a plan to use a combination of their supernatural abilities and Y/N's powers.

They would create a ritual that temporarily weakened the connection between the amulet and the evil spirit, allowing Y/N to use her reality-warping abilities to draw the spirit out.

Once the evil spirit was drawn out and contained in the pocket dimension Y/N had prepared, the Counters would focus on separating it from the amulet. This was a delicate and dangerous process, but Y/N's control over the spirit gave them the best chance of success.

The ultimate goal was to leave Y/N with her powers intact but free from the evil spirit's influence.

It was a complex and risky plan, but Y/N and the Counters believed it was the only way to ensure that she could use her unique abilities for good without harming anyone or being consumed by darkness.

Later, the night before the dangerous ritual, as the headquarters grew quiet, Motak found himself alone with Y/N.

She was still in the translucent barrier, her eyes reflecting both power, and vulnerability but also showing fear for what was about to happen.

"Y/N," Motak spoke softly, "You are going to be okay, we can do this" he tried reassuring her in his deep voice, almost sounding like he was telling himself that.

She met his gaze with an intensity that sent shivers down his spine. "Motak, there's a reason I control the spirit within me. I don't want to hurt anyone. I've seen what absolute power can do, and I refuse to become a monster. I want to be free.”

He stepped closer to the barrier, his hand reaching out, longing to touch her. "We can do this, I will free you from this shitty spirit.” he paused letting out a small chuckle as Y/N also let out a watery laugh. “This plan must work, we can do it together."

Y/N's eyes softened, and she nodded. "We can rewrite our own destinies, Motak, but we must be careful. The line between good and evil is thin, and we walk it every day."

As the ritual to separate the evil spirit from Y/N's amulet reached its climax, the room filled with an otherworldly energy. Y/N's Scarlet Witch attire shimmered, and her powers surged to their peak.

Beads of sweat formed on her forehead as she concentrated, aided by the collective strength of the Counters.

In the center of the room, a swirling vortex of crimson energy emerged, drawing the evil spirit out of Y/N's body.

The spirit fought and resisted, but Y/N's unyielding determination, combined with the Counters' supernatural prowess, proved stronger. With a final surge of power, the spirit was captured within the pocket dimension Y/N had created.

A collective sigh of relief filled the room as the evil spirit was successfully separated from Y/N.

She collapsed to her knees, drained from the intense effort, but her powers remained intact, her amulet now free of the evil influence.

“Y/N!” Motak rushed to her side, offering his support as she regained her strength, cradling her delicately to his chest.

He pressed light kisses to her forehead, whispering praises with his lips pressed to her skin.

The other Counters observed in awe, realizing that Y/N's abilities could be a valuable asset in their mission to protect the balance between realms.

Hana, who had been the most skeptical of Y/N, watched the proceedings with a newfound respect. She understood that Y/N's intentions were pure, and her powers could be a force for good.

With the evil spirit contained and neutralized in the pocket dimension, the Counters turned their attention to sending the evil spirit back to the darkest depths of Yung where it belonged.

While Y/N, for the first time in what felt like a long time, felt free, relaxed, and safe in the arms of the man she fell deeply for.

The man that vows to protect her and love her no matter what.

In the days that followed, Y/N and Motak's connection deepened further.

They had faced the darkness within and emerged stronger together. Their forbidden love had defied all odds, just as Y/N had defied the evil spirit's attempts to consume her.

As they looked toward an uncertain future, Y/N, Motak, and the Counters had rewritten their destinies.

They were no longer just hunters of evil spirits; they were protectors of the balance between worlds, guided by the belief that even in the darkest of circumstances, love and understanding could prevail.

And so, in the quiet moments between battling supernatural threats, Y/N and Motak found solace in each other's arms, knowing that their love was as powerful as the abilities that had brought them together—a love that could conquer any challenge that lay ahead.

Note: gifs, pictures, and header DOES NOT belong to me. CREDITS TO THE RIGHTFUL OWNERS!! Feedback is appreciated.

#kdrama #the uncanny counter #the uncanny counter season 2 #the uncanny counter x reader #the uncanny counter: counter punch #kdramaimagines #kdramaimagine #kdramascenario #kdrama scenarios #ga motak #ga mo tak #ga motak x reader #ga mo tak x reader #so mun x reader

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just-here-with-my-thoughts · 7 months ago

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Welcome To The Outpost: Part 2.4 - Grief

gif from @midnightdjarin

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: CT-9904 Crosshair, Clone Commander Mayday Word Count: ~3875 Read Here on AO3

Synopsis: Commander Mayday was grievously wounded during the avalanche. As Crosshair insists on carrying him back to base, Mayday reflects on his regrets.

Read Part 1.1 - Frozen Read Part 1.2 - Rise From The Ashes Read Part 1.3 - Lost Battle Read Part 1.4 - No Way Out Read Part 1.5 - Rock And A Hard Place Read Part 2.1 - Last Chance Read Part 2.2 - Broken Read Part 2.3 - Swept Away

The churning and tumbling had stopped. All around him was still, the weight of snow pressing and compressing his body so that he could barely hold the breath in his lungs.

And yet, through his closed eyelids, Crosshair sensed light. That meant he must be near the surface.

He began to struggle, thrashing his way through the seductive cold of the ice until he reached air, eyes shooting wide open as a gasping breath heaved into his body.

His chest burned from the time without air – how long had he been under the ice, at the mercy of the avalanche? And still the seductive cold of that whispering grave pulled at him, sapping his strength, willing him to lie down and sleep.

He fought the urge with a physical shake, pulling his arms free of the snow and righting himself. Dimly he realised he had lost his helmet. Perhaps that explained the cold, but also why his enhanced eyesight had noticed the faint filtering of light that guided him here. If he’d been shuttered behind the tinted visor, he might have stayed beneath the surface until suffocation took him.

The mountain air bit against bare skin already numbed from being submerged in the ice, so cold it burned. Crosshair grit his teeth together to keep them from chattering and tried to recall what had happened.

The avalanche, no doubt triggered by the resonance from the cave collapse. Running.

Mayday, pushing him out the way of danger.

Stumbling, falling.

Mayday’s body, swept up and dashed against a boulder with a sickening crunch. The last sound he had heard before his world became ice and snow.

Mayday.

Glancing around at the near-featureless expanse of white left by the avalanche’s destruction, Crosshair tried to pinpoint something, anything, to get his bearings. There was the mountain peak –the tunnels they came in by had most surely been buried in the surging snowfall.

A tiny spur of dark rock jutted up from the surface. Something constricted in Crosshair’s chest and, fighting the chest-high snow every step of the way, he began to head towards it.

Instinct, more than logic, saw him scrabble at the snow around the boulder, franticly sweeping at the surface until his numbed fingertips met resistance. His hands shook so much that delicacy wasn’t an option, but he did his best to be gentle as he brushed the snow aside.

He unearthed a familiar helmet, powdery ice crystals clinging to the fabric and grubby plastoid. It tilted easily, empty.

A rising tremor of panic shuddered through Crosshair’s body as he dived back into the snow. Now his gloved hands found hair, and flesh, and he grasped broad shoulders to pull the buried commander to the surface.

As he broke free of the ice Mayday choked a sodden breath, his body reacting automatically to the air. His eyes were closed, skin pale with cold, beard almost white with snow.

"Mayday... Mayday!"

It felt awkward to wrap his mouth around the unfamiliar syllables of the reg commander's name. He'd spent the whole time avoiding it, not wanting to give the impression of connection.

But now the instinct to call him by name came as easily as saying Echo, or Tech.

A soft groan in response was enough to assure him that the commander was surfacing from unconsciousness. Crosshair gave him another shake, leaning in close, breath clouding the air between them from his desperate, open-mouthed gasps.

“Mayday, wake up!”

Dark brown eyes fluttered open, glazed with confusion. Mayday tilted is head to the side, a weak cough signalling his return to awareness.

“Come on.” Crosshair barely recognised his own voice, the urgent plea in his tone. “We have to move.”

Mayday lifted a trembling arm from the snow, grasping weakly for Crosshair. The sniper caught his hand, ready to haul him up, but Mayday pushed him away.

“Go.” His voice was no more than a wheeze, and his eyes closed as another wet cough racked his body. As the spasm passed his breath hissed out in a sigh, his face contorting with agony. “I won’t make it.”

Crosshair paused his efforts, gaze roving over the commander’s face. Then he reached for the other clone’s helmet, carefully lifting Mayday’s neck so he could slide the protective headwear back into place.

Mayday choked a laugh through the vocoder as Crosshair looped his arm under his shoulders, gently positioning his body alongside Mayday’s and lifting him to his feet.

“Stubborn, aren’t you.”

Crosshair didn’t reply. Mayday was dead weight against him, unable to stand by himself.

“Where’s your bucket, lad?”

The sniper shook his head, taking a fighting step through the snow, hauling Mayday with him. “Lost in the avalanche.”

“Got your rifle?”

Crosshair paused, startled, his sudden stop pulling another grunt of pain from the commander. He hadn’t even thought about his rifle.

He cast his gaze back along the trough of disturbed snow where he had fought his way to Mayday. The dark metal of his firepuncher was half-buried where he had originally surfaced.

He could almost hear the weak grin in Mayday’s voice as he said, “Never known a sniper get separated from his rifle.”

“I had other things on my mind.”

Crosshair carefully eased Mayday back into the snowbank before wading back along the channel to retrieve his rifle.

Some deep part of his mind was horrified that he had let it go. It had been in his hands when the avalanche struck. He was trained never to leave himself defenceless. Countless missions, years worth of training; no matter how bad things got, the only way to get his rifle out of his hands was to pry it from his unconscious fingers.

And yet, fighting his way from the ice, his only thought had been to find Mayday.

Making his way back to the commander, Crosshair carefully lifted him again. Maday sagged against him, and he took the weight gladly.

This time he didn’t bother with reassurances, fighting the chattering of his teeth. He merely set his sights on the horizon and began to walk.

Mayday heaved another shallow inhale past the stabbing pain in his lungs, light-headed as the gasping breaths failed to deliver enough oxygen to his system. Every staggered step through the snow jarred his injuries, still unchecked, but there was no need to stop and assess them.

He was dying.

His memories following the avalanche were hazy. Crosshair’s voice had come to him as if from a long way off, tinged with desperation. He’d fought his way towards the sound, command instinct compelling him to reassure the younger trooper.

As consciousness gripped him and pain swamped his senses, he’d realised he wasn’t making it back to the outpost. Better to tell Crosshair to go on alone.

A command the sniper ignored. Instead he’d dug Mayday out of the snow, gentle as he could be when he cried out in pain, then carefully lifted his body to help him walk.

Not that Mayday was doing much walking. Crosshair was half-dragging him, Mayday’s own legs too unsteady to take him more than a few steps at a time.

But still the sniper carried him. So much for his earlier dismissive attitude.

A faint, distracted smile curled Mayday’s lips inside his helmet. He’d seen Crosshair’s façade for what it was early on, recognised the self-imposed distance that only those who truly cared – and had been truly hurt – ever exhibited.

He leaned a little more heavily into the sniper. Despite his acid demeanour, and all the rumours about the CT-99s, Crosshair cared. He could have left him in the snow and didn’t. Even when Mayday told him to.

Now it was Crosshair’s turn to stumble, almost going down in the snow. Mayday dropped to his knees beside him, trying to get his blurred vision to focus on the sniper’s narrow face. The thin clone was wracked with whole-body shudders, his armour not meant for the weather, what little body heat he had rapidly being lost through his unprotected head. His brown eyes were narrowed in a determined glare, but it took him two tries to push to his feet again.

Still, Mayday didn’t try and rise immediately. Instead his hands went to the strips of dirty fabric binding his chest, numbed fingers barely able to find the ends, and started to unwrap it.

Crosshair turned wearily, ready to help the commander stand, and stopped when he saw what Mayday was doing. He huffed an open-mouthed breath, too tired to speak, but the question was in his eyes.

“Gotta cover your head,” muttered Mayday by way of explanation, swallowing against pain as he moved his arms stiffly to unwrap the fabric. “Gotta keep you warm.”

Piercing brown eyes studied him as he wound the length of fabric round his hands, slowly revealing the white clone trooper armour he wore beneath.

His cuirass began to crumble. He’d been hiding the cracks in it for so long he’d almost forgotten them. Now, without the cloth wraps holding it together, the entire chest plate began to disintegrate.

He saw the soft horror in Crosshair’s questioning gaze and swallowed, summoning an explanation.

“Standard clone plastoid… isn’t designed for prolonged exposure to the cold. It goes brittle, cracks.” He panted with the effort of speech. “Doesn’t soak an impact, but it’s better than nothing. Least it’s another layer again the cold.”

Crosshair dropped to his knees with a strangled protest, stopping Mayday’s hands. His gaze was on the ground between them, unable to look at him.

Mayday lifted a trembling hand, clapped it clumsily against Crosshair’s shoulder in an attempt to reassure him. But the sniper covered his hands with his own, taking the bundled strips from him. Then he lifted the sliding bottom section of the cuirass back against Mayday’s ribs, beginning to ravel it back into place.

“What’re you doing?” slurred Mayday. “You’ll freeze without this.”

“So will you, if your armour falls off your body,” bit Crosshair, annoyance his tone, a mask for fear. He batted Mayday’s hands away and quickly resecured the bindings.

Mayday sagged forwards, forehead of his helmet coming to rest against Crosshair’s pauldron. “I’m gone anyway,” he said softly, a bitter chuckle sending lancing pain though his ribs to choke the sound off with a gulp. “You need to get yourself out of here.”

“Shut up,” snarled Crosshair, pulling Mayday’s arm back across his shoulder, heaving him to his feet. With his other hand he retrieved his rifle, thumping it butt-down into the snow. He levered himself against the rifle, starting their stagger forwards once more, feet dragging through the snow.

Mayday couldn’t contain the mewl of pain as he stumbled against the sniper, something in his chest dragging and stabbing further at the already damaged parts of him. Crosshair paused, a flash of concern crossing his drawn features. Mayday quickly shook his head, a silent plea not to worry, and forced his injured body to stand straighter.

Crosshair was exhausted. Just as exhausted as Mayday. And if Mayday didn’t keep walking, Crosshair wouldn’t either. He’d sit by his side and let the snow take him.

The question now was how long could he hold on, for Crosshair’s sake.

Day passed as a brightening of the snowstorm that turned the whole world to white. Night descended with it dulling to grey once more.

Through it all the two clone troopers trudged wearily on. Hunger gnawed at Crosshair’s insides, a familiar emptiness. They’d brought no rations.

Each time his long eyesight picked out an ice vulture circling overhead, he wondered if it would be the one to feast on their corpses.

But somehow they fought on. At his side, Mayday struggled through the snow, barely able to stand at times against the driving wind. Sometimes his arm slithered from around Crosshair’s neck as he collapsed to the ground, lost to the brief respite of oblivion that claimed him.

Crosshair had no such respite. Each time he lifted Mayday once more, draping the unconscious commander across his back and finding some inner reserve of strength to carry him.

Mayday always awoke before long. The movement of walking jostled him, starting him groaning as he came back to wakefulness. Crosshair didn’t investigate. There was nothing he could do about whatever injuries were hidden inside his armour, and the exposure would kill him first if he tried to inspect them. Better to ignore his cries of pain, and keep walking. Get back to the Outpost.

It was their best chance of survival.

No amount of dogged determination could keep Crosshair walking forever. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept. They’d walked all night to reach the raider’s base, then most of the day after the avalanche. That was without however long he’d been awake before that, nervously awaiting the mission, the flight to Barton IV and the fight at the depot.

Sleep was an alluring idea, but seductive though it was some deep-seated self-preservation told him it was impossible. A rest though. Just a short break, sheltered from the wind and driving snow, a chance to gather his reserves to continue. He could spare the time for that.

Not that there was anywhere sheltered enough to stop. He’d carry on. They’d walk a bit further. Surely he’d find somewhere they could stop.

The storm increased its ferocity. True dark enveloped the mountain, the kind even Crosshair struggled to see in. Still no shelter.

Crosshair could hear the commander’s laboured breathing through the vocoder of his helmet. He felt every grunt of pain that shuddered through the man, transmitted to him where their bodies pressed close together.

They had to stop. Mayday couldn’t go on.

Reluctantly Crosshair steered them towards the wall of the mountain. It wasn’t shelter. Not really. But the nook in the cliff-face was enough to rest against.

Levering himself up the slope with his rifle, Crosshair all but collapsed to sit against the rock-face, tucking his back against the dark wall. Mayday followed him down, half-staggering, and without thinking Crosshair wrapped his arm around Mayday’s body and pulled him close.

It was meagre comfort, his body too numb to feel the contact. But he draped his other arm over them too, rifle coming to rest across their laps. In response Mayday curled into him, knees and arms coming up as his helmet rested against Crosshair’s shoulder, a sigh of relief escaping him as his body sank against the sniper’s.

Crosshair tilted his face against him, ignoring the chill of the ice-crusted fabric as he pressed his cheek to Mayday’s helmet. He had to keep his mind busy. Couldn’t let sleep creep up on him.

Had to get them back to the outpost.

Had to save Mayday.

“Geo and Dene died in a snowstorm.”

Mayday’s broken laugh pulled Crosshair from the edge of slumber and he sat up with a jerk, startled by the unexpected comment. He settled his expression into a frown, pulling his arms, which had slackened, more tightly around Mayday.

“Ray of sunshine, aren’t you,” he grit out between chattering teeth. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“It was my fault. I ordered the patrol.”

Crosshair didn’t know what to say to that. He chose to stay silent, but at least Mayday’s words had given him the jolt of adrenaline needed to stave off sleep.

The commander was no longer shaking. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Should’ve done better. Should’ve done more to protect my men.”

Mayday’s voice faded in and out, the edges of his words blurred by pain.

“That’s what a leader does. He protects his squad.”

A real leader protects his squad.

Look where that’s gotten you. They’re all going to die here because of your failed leadership.

Crosshair’s stomach seized, a churning sensation that would have made him feel nauseous if he’d eaten anything in the last thirty-six hours. Instead it was just cramps, almost indistinguishable from hunger pangs, except for his brother’s voice echoing in his memory.

“You did what you could,” he muttered, the platitude sounding hollow even as he said it.

“Should’ve done more. Should’ve… should’ve fought harder to get the Empire to send supplies.”

Crosshair’s answer was a bitter scoff. “You’re one man. The Empire weren’t going to listen to you.”

He hated himself as he said it. Hated the bitter taste of truth as he refuted his own delusions to reassure the other man.

For a moment Mayday fell silent. His head went heavier on Crosshair’s shoulder, and for a moment Crosshair feared he’d passed out. Then, “I’m failing you. Just like I failed them.”

“Shut up.” His voice shook. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Guilt was compounding Mayday’s grief over the deaths of his men, and Crosshair risked being pulled into the vortex of his despair. His brown eyes roved over Mayday’s helmet, snow-crusted and tucked so close to his chest.

He brought one arm around Mayday’s shoulders, giving a squeeze that he didn’t know if the cold-numbed commander would feel through his armour. His eyes stung hot despite the ambient temperature, and he pressed them shut before tears could freeze on his lashes.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he repeated in a shattered whisper. “Please don’t say that.”

He felt Mayday shift against him, didn’t open his eyes. Just held tighter, until Mayday straightened, righting himself so he leaned less heavily on him.

“Hexx was my oldest friend. We’d been together since… since forever.”

Crosshair grunted, easing his eyes open and letting his gaze relax over the swirling snowstorm outside their huddled position. He didn’t ease the pressure of his arm around Mayday.

“Been with him since the beginning. Thought I’d see the end with him, too. Never thought he’d go before me.”

His voice wavered, regret leaching into his words. “Kriff, I never imagined I’d have to go on without him.”

“You’re a trooper,” said Crosshair flatly. “You know the risks.”

“Yeah. Just… we’d survived everything up ‘til now. Almost survived this.”

Mayday’s voice grew stronger the longer he talked, like the train of thought was staving off unconsciousness. Crosshair wanted to tell him to be quiet, to keep his doubting, draining words to himself. He couldn’t find the heart to.

“I was just a shiny when we met. Fresh out of Kamino. He had green paint, but it was so new it didn’t have a scratch on it. He wasn’t much older than me.”

Crosshair huffed a soft breath of disbelief. That wasn’t forever. Him and his brothers had been together forever. Ever since he was a cadet, too tiny to remember a time before his brothers were his world.

Part of him wanted to stay quiet and listened to the older clone talk. Part of him burned as Mayday’s unsteady voice evoked those jealous, bitter thoughts about his own past.

“I remember after the order. Scouring our paint off. Stripping the armour back to white.” Mayday choked on a wet cough, the spasm wracking his body and causing him to collapse weakly against Crosshair once more. “Still saw green hexagons every time I looked at him. Couldn’t… couldn’t understand it at the time. Why the Empire wanted us all the same.

“Veetch never got to paint his armour. Never got… never got a lot of things, that boy. Lived on Barton IV, and died here too. Not much of a life.”

Crosshair thought of the two troopers who had shadowed Mayday when he first arrived at the base. They had both looked battle-worn and weary to him, their armour scarred by the elements and similarly bound by dirty wraps, just like Mayday’s.

He didn’t know which had been Veetch, and which had been Hexx. Usually he didn’t worry about that sort of thing. But now he was ashamed.

Mayday’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Tell me about your squad.”

With a surprised exhale, Crosshair almost laughed. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“What colours did you wear? Before the Empire put you in this.”

Mayday’s knuckles rapped weakly against Crosshair’s chest-plate. Crosshair caught the other clone’s hand in his own, wrapping his fingers round Mayday’s, for what little good the extra warmth would do.

“Grey and red,” he said, barely recognising the voice as his own. “Ash grey and blood red.”

Mayday’s feeble chuckle reverberated though their closely pressed bodies, and Crosshair found the sound elicited a wild, hopeful light in him. He rested his forehead against Mayday’s bucket, squeezing his eyes shut as he begged a maker he didn’t believe in to spare the commander, just a little longer.

“You clone commandos always were extra,” wheezed Mayday past his laugh. “Poetic.”

Crosshair found a shaky, shuddering laugh was drawn from him too, so unfamiliar that he panicked to hear it and clamped his jaw shut. When was the last time he laughed?

He didn’t remember. Too long. Not since before.

Before the order.

And now here he was, facing death in the freezing wilderness, and it felt hysterical and freeing to laugh.

Agonising, and cathartic, to let Mayday needle the memories of his brothers, like drawing poison from a wound too long unattended.

He replied at length, squeezing Mayday’s numb fingers in his own. “Yeah. I guess it was.”

“How was your armour painted?”

“With a crosshair. And skulls.”

Mayday’s snorted laugh set off another coughing fit, and Crosshair scrambled to his knees, leaning the commander forwards and holding him until it passed.

“A crosshair,” panted Mayday at last. “That’s on the nose.”

Crosshair just huffed a laugh, settling them back into their nook. The storm still raged, but somehow it seemed further away now.

“And skulls?”

A nod. “Yeah. All of us had them.”

“I’d’ve liked to see that.”

Crosshair lapsed into quiet, his thoughts turning inwards.

His stomach burned hot and sick with resentment, bile gathering behind his teeth as he remembered how they left him. But his fingers, numb inside his gloves, had other plans. With a trembling hand he reached up, began to trace the traitorous pattern on Mayday’s helm.

Half a skull. Even as he tried to shut out the thought, it was impossible to ignore the parallels between the long-haired commander and his estranged brother. His fingers skimmed through the crust of ice on Mayday’s helmet, picking out the pattern in perfect relief.

“They left me behind. After the order.”

He hadn’t meant for his voice to crack. Hadn’t meant for the sob to escape.

Now it was Mayday’s turn to fold his arms around him, drawing Crosshair close against his chest.

“I know, lad. It’s okay.”

Fourteen months since the order. Fourteen months under Imperial control.

Hunting his brothers down. Not understanding the buzzing in his head that wanted them dead.

Then wanting them to suffer the way that he had suffered.

Before they had left him. Again.

Something inside Crosshair broke. As inexorable as the avalanche had been, the tide of grief he had been holding back burst through the brittle dam of his self-control. The howl that ripped from his lips rivalled the wind, anger and sorrow mingling as his so-long repressed fears refused to be chained inside his heart any longer.

Mayday held him as he shook apart. And continued to hold him as they finally slept.

Read Part 2.5 - Betrayal

*something something broken armour Mayday showing Crosshair the fractures in his soul allowing Crosshair to feel his own loss*

I gave passing consideration to concise storytelling and then decided to completely disregard that in favour of writing whatever I liked to my heart's content. So sorry not sorry for the long chapter I guess :)

How are you feeling, beloved readers? There is only one more Angstpril prompt for me to fill: Day 29, Betrayal. I'm sure you all know where this story is heading.

Have you enjoyed all the stories this month? It's been great to work on this challenge in partnership with @kybercrystals94 and @the-little-moment! Keep an eye out for our last few stories, and the eventual master-post rounding up all our fics :)

#angstpril2024 #thebadbatch #fanfiction #day26 #grief #the bad batch #the bad batch fanfic #tbb fanfic #clone commander mayday #commander mayday #barton iv #the outpost #tbb crosshair #crosshair #ct 9904 #crosshair & mayday #crosshair and mayday #littlekyberthoughts

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violettduchess · 2 years ago

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A/N: Since I was not able to complete all the fic requests for the Fall Fluff Autumn Angst Content Creation Challenge, I thought I could still do the ones I had left as headcanons 🌟

Leon, Luke, Chevalier and Gilbert x reader

Word Count: 1756

Ikemen Prince Fall Fluff Headcanons 🍂

Leon - Warming Hands 🧤

You step through the terrace doors, buffeted by a playful autumn breeze. Your walk through the forest on the palace grounds with Clavis had been invigorating. Together you planned most of the activities for the Fall Festival. Between your creative ideas and his connections with different merchants and important townspeople, you had managed to figure out the nuts and bolts of how to get this celebration off the ground and you are feeling tremendously proud.

And tremendously cold. The woods had been much cooler than you had anticipated and your gloves, forgotten somewhere in the tumult of your bureau, would have been good to have along. The shallow pockets of your long, gray coat had done a passable job but you can still feel the chill wrapped around your fingers, tiny claws biting at your skin.

“There you are!” Leon smiles, tossing the folder of paperwork he had been carrying indifferently onto a table in passing, his focus only on you as he crosses the room on those long legs. One look at the ruddiness of your cheeks and the way your hands are clenched together tells him all he needs to know.

“You forgot your gloves again, didn’t you love?” Sheepishly you nod and he shakes his head affectionately, reaching out to take your hands in his. They engulf yours in warmth and you can’t help the small sigh that escapes you as he gently rubs your chilled skin.

“You know, those cheeks are also looking very rosy.” He leans down, peppering them both with kisses. You squirm in delight and he laughs, your hands still encased in his, his breath warm against you. “And your neck must be freezing! How reckless of you!”

“Leon! I’m wearing a scarf!” But your prince is undeterred as he pulls the scarf aside, burying his face in the side of your neck, his onslaught of kisses broken only by the sound of his warm laughter.

Luke - Cozy Sweater 🧶

His visits to town can take a long time, especially when he is meeting friends. You turn your attention back to your book, trying not to wonder when he will be back. You get through two paragraphs of which you actually only read a sentence or two before you get up, tossing the book haphazardly on the bed, and walk to the tall window, looking out at the cloudy, autumn night. No stars, only a sliver of moon. It’s cold and dark and you want Luke back so you can curl up in his arms where you feel warm and safe and cozy.

Your gaze travels around the bedroom and then stops on an oversized green chair in the corner. Hmm. He may not be here but…..

Crossing the room, you run your fingers over the pile of clothes he has decided must live on this chair and nowhere else. You rifle through them, only stopping when you come to the soft, olive green sweater toward the bottom. Luke loves this sweater and wears it often. He wouldn’t mind if you just-

The sweater is saved from the bottom of the clothes pile and then pulled over your head, not so much you wearing it as it wears you. The sleeves hang far past your hands and the hem falls somewhere mid-calf. It looks a bit silly, like a child playing dress up, but you close your eyes, wrapping your arms around yourself. Ah, it smells like him. The faint scent of woods and a sweet grace note of honey. It may not be his arms, but it feels pretty darn close.

A few hours later, when Luke walks through the bedroom door, he finds you curled up on his side of the bed, in his favorite sweater, fast asleep. The book you were reading has slipped to the floor from hands lax with sleep. His heart glows with tenderness at the sight and he takes a moment, a tall figure at the foot of the bed, to simply drink it in. Then he quietly sheds his clothing down to his lavender tunic and climbs onto the bed next to your sleeping form. He wraps his big body around yours, sheltering you in his arms, and joins you in sleep.

Chevalier - Pumpkins 🔪

The face isn’t quite right. You lean back, head tilted to one side as you examine your pumpkin. The mouth is lopsided, one eye is decidedly bigger than the other and you don’t know how but you have given him several noses.

“You said it would be frightening.” That voice. When did he show up? You turn around to face your husband who is standing behind you, one brow raised ever so slightly as he surveys the massacre of pumpkin parts you have spread out on the terrace table.

“It….kind of is?” You gesture toward the other pumpkins you carved, pointing the tip of the carving knife in their direction. “It’s better than those….er….practice pumpkins.” He snorts at the white lie that your previous attempts were practice and not you being horribly inept at carving.

You scowl at him and his stupid (ok attractive) little smirk. “It’s not that easy!”

Something flashes in the blue depths of his eyes. Amusement? A challenge? A scintillating combination of both? “Isn’t it though?” And then he is sitting next to you, the carving knife out of your hand and in his. Though an inanimate object, you swear it seems to be relieved to be held by someone else.

He reaches for one of the pumpkins that has been hollowed out but not yet cut and then shifts, turning his back so that you can’t see what he is doing. You cross your arms, the head shaking merely icing on the cake of your annoyance.

"You, your highness, have never carved a pumpkin in your life. I grew up doing this! It really isn’t as easy as it looks.” No answer. You sigh, turning to look up at the bright leaves overhead, the splashes of red and yellow against the clear blue of the autumn sky.

The bench creaks as Chevalier stands up in what feels like far too short a time for carving a pumpkin. “There.” You turn your body to look at what he has done and what you see……is not a surprise. In front of you is a pumpkin with an expertly carved evil face. The eyes are narrowed angrily, the menacing mouth open to reveal sharp, wickedly pointed teeth. He even managed to create a sloped brow and crooked nose.

You feel his hands squeeze you lightly when he places them on your shoulders, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. Turning his head, he whispers in your ear, his voice low and soft. “You can use it as a model example as you continue practicing.” You may not be able to see him, but you can feel the amusement in his words, the warm undercurrent of affection that is always for your ears alone.

As he turns away, his mouth curved in a self-satisfied smile, you flick a pumpkin seed at him and watch as it clings to the back of his white cloak, a tiny stowaway coated in orange pumpkin juice. And you find yourself grinning.

Gilbert - Cinnamon Kiss 💋

You know he is working, but you can’t help the way you excitedly throw open the heavy, carved doors of his study with one arm. “It’s here!”

At the sound of your voice, he sets aside the missive he was reading, a light smile gracing his lips. He has been working so hard lately and the sight of the pile of papers on his desk, the circles under his eyes, the tired slope of his shoulders, pulls at your heart, slowing your steps as you approach. You repeat yourself, this time less loudly. “It’s here.”

He reaches his arms out for you, pulling you onto his lap and sighs as he buries his face in your shoulder. His voice is muffled, almost small, when he speaks. “You’re here. What could be better?” You smile softly as you reach for his chin, your fingers gently tipping his head away from you. “This.”

You set the small, circular tin on his desk. It’s a beautiful deep red, decorated with golden stars and swirls. Gilbert looks curiously at it, shifting you slightly on his lap as he pushes a few papers out of the way. “Is this the package you’ve been waiting for? From Rhodolite?”

You nod, your eyes bright with anticipation. Leaving forward over the stronghold of his forearm, you carefully lift the lid of the tin. Immediately the scent of cinnamon fills the air and you can see by the way he smiles that he now knows what this is. “They arrived.”

Your favorite cookies from your favorite bakery. Not once have you ever regretted leaving Rhodolite for love of this man, but because of the tension between the two countries, traveling back and forth has become dangerous. Which makes this gift, a favor from Clavis, all the more special. Carefully, you reach inside and select a star-shaped cinnamon cookie from the tin. “Enjoy, Liebes,” he says warmly but you shake your head. “Not me. You. You get the first bite.” He cocks his head, gaze soft like morning mist as it caresses your face. “But–”

No buts allowed, you think as you simply press the cookie against his lips. He laughs quietly, catching the cookie before it can fall and then takes it into his mouth. You watch eagerly as he chews, tense with anticipation as you wait to hear his judgment.

“And? Isn’t it the best thing you have ever tasted?”

He licks his lips, tightening his arms around you, pulling you even closer against him. “It is certainly the best cookie I have ever eaten, ja.” Your smile burns away the exhaustion that has been haunting him all evening. “However…..”

“However?”

“HOWEVER”, he repeats with a slow grin, “it is not the best thing I have ever tasted.” And then he is so very close, his lips mere centimeters from yours, one hand wrapping itself around the nape of your neck. “That, Häschen, would be this.” And then his mouth is on yours, cool lips parting. He tastes like cinnamon and nutmeg and nighttime and magic. As you wrap your arms around his shoulders, as his hands grip you tightly, you decide he is right. This really is the most delicious taste in the world.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesroseforclavis @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @leotoru @ariamichel @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @moonstruck-writing @scorchieart

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nyoxt · 2 months ago

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8, 13, 50 for Mutt and 9, 16, 36 for Belrod :D 💛

Mutt: [8] How open they are about their true feelings, both positive and negative? She's more open with negative ones- if she's annoyed or angry-you will know about it, if not verbally than with body language/expressions. With positive feelings she's pretty much very closed. You'll need to pull those out of her with the tongs. While trying to not get shot or kicked.

[13] What kind of sense of humor do they have, if any? Mutt has little sense of humor and it's mostly dark/sarcastic. If she jokes she does it with the straightest face and blunt/dry delivery. Surprisingly her most usual “jokes” are pranks- and those used to be quite sadistic/bullying in her younger years- like shooting someone in the foot and laughing at the resulted suffering, but later became less violent. I mean, it's still got a violent flail to it, but it's more of a force of a habit than realized intention. But when her pranks are actually funny- Coyote might bestow upon her some small boons, like a good luck for a short time or a magic buff. [50] What are they really good and really bad at? Mutt is very good with guns, inflicting violence, following orders, decent at planning combat encounters. Can be a pretty good leader, but not enthusiastically. She’s rather bad with magic. She’s been awakened since her teen age, but never seriously worked on her abilities or connected with it much, thinking that guns/rifles are a more reliable way to fight. Aaaand she's especially bad at forming healthy connections with other people- because for the majority of her life she used to stick to the meanest strongest groups she could get into, with strongly reinforced hierarchies on top of that - so forming new relationships which are not grounded within strength or combat experience- is h a r d. And it’s also made harder because Mutt can’t exactly realize the roots of this problem, doesn’t know what help to ask for, and doesn’t want to ask for help because it is something awkward and being awkward is a sign of weakness and being weak will get you to the bottom of the food chain-> the cycle continues Belrod: [9] What is their love language? Gifts- he looooves to bring people his favorite ppl things they want/like; actions of service; words of affection. Many many words of affection. Screams of affections even- if he befriends you he might scream from the rooftops how awesome and cool you are and how much he loves you. Literally, like, climbing on some roof and screaming. [16] Do they easily rely on others to help them out, or prefer doing everything themselves? Bel was always a perfect team player, he’s very good at finding his place and use in a team. And growing up with a rather big family+a huge extended family and in a tightly knit community- he knows when and how and who to ask for help and how to rely on others! His challenge during Origins+Awakening was actually in learning to do things alone sometimes and make important decisions by himself. [36] Do they own items that have sentimental value? -The boots his mother made him. He couldn't walk in them for the long travels because they were a bit too tight, but they were always in his backpack. Bel gifted them to Morrigan when she said she likes the embroidery on the boots. Because he thinks that things are the happiest when used for their purpose, and will bring more luck this way than when buried in the bag.

-his mother's tiny knife. It's not very useful in serious combat, but it's easy to conceal and is great for surprise stabbings. He hates when people insult its size/usefulness, and threatens to “put it in your eye and see how funny this “toothpick” will look up close”.

-Alistair's rose. Bel keeps it dried between the pages of his journal.

-"Fang" dagger. Bel finds blade's shape hard to get used to, but it belonged to his mother, so he loves and cherishes it.

As you can see- he loves his mom a lot.

#Thanks for the ask :3 #oc: mutt #oc: belrod

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drtyelvisfantasy · 1 year ago

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Puppy Love🐶🩷

Parings: Austin Butler x reader

Summary: Austin surprises you with small little puppy for birthday and also decorates your house with balloons of your favourite colour and surprises you with flowers🩷💐

Song for the fic: Puppy Love- Paul Anka

🩷🐶🩷🐶

The sun was already beginning its ascent into the sky as the reader stirred awake, feeling the warmth of the morning light filtering through the curtains. It was your birthday, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation in you chest. As you stretched, you noticed a little note on the bedside table, written in Austin's familiar handwriting.

"Good morning, beautiful! Get dressed and meet me downstairs. I have a surprise waiting for you. Love, Austin🩷."

A beaming smile spread across your face as you quickly got ready, curiosity dancing in your head. With your heart pounding, you ran downstairs, your steps light and filled with excitement.

As you stepped into the living room, you froze, your eyes widening in awe. Pink balloons floated in the air saying happy birthday, streamers adorned the walls, and twinkling fairy lights cast a soft, ethereal glow. The room was transformed into a dreamlike wonderland, and at the center of it all stood Austin, a grin playing on his lips.

"Austin, what's all this?" You asked, your voice filled with wonder.

Austin's eyes sparkled with mischief as he gestured toward a small box on the coffee table. "Happy birthday, my love. Open it."

Your hands trembled ever so slightly as she approached the box. She carefully lifted the lid, and her heart skipped a beat. Nestled inside, a tiny puppy with soft, fluffy fur and curious eyes stared up at her. It was love at first sight.

"Austin, you... you got me a puppy?" the reader whispered, tears of joy glistening in her eyes.

Austin nodded, his voice filled with love. "I know how much you've always wanted one, and I thought it was the perfect time to bring this little bundle of joy into our lives. Happy birthday, my love."

Overwhelmed with emotions, you scooped up the puppy into your arms, feeling its warmth against your chest. You showered the pup with gentle kisses, your heart swelling with love and gratitude for Austin's thoughtful surprise.

As you played with the puppy, Austin reached behind his back, revealing a bouquet of pink roses. Their delicate petals bloomed in an array of shades, releasing a sweet, captivating fragrance. He extended them towards you, his eyes filled with adoration.

"Because pink roses represent love and affection," Austin explained, his voice soft. "And I wanted to remind you of the love I feel for you every single day."

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you accepted the bouquet, feeling overwhelmed by the depth of Austin's love. You buried your face in the roses, inhaling their intoxicating scent, and turned to Austin, your voice filled with gratitude.

"Thank you, Austin. This is the most incredible birthday surprise I could have ever imagined. I'm so grateful for you."

Austin wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace. "You deserve every bit of love and happiness, my dear. I couldn't imagine my life without you, and I promise to cherish and love you, always."

They sat on the couch, the puppy nestled between the two of you, as you both spent the day reveling in each other's presence. Laughter filled the room, mingling with the sweet scent of roses, as you both created memories that would forever be etched inside your hearts forever.

As the day drew close to an end, you leaned your head against Austin's shoulder, with your fingers entwined with his. The puppy curled up your lap, finding comfort in your love. In that moment, the two of you realized the beauty of your connection, the immense joy you both found in each other's presence.

🩷🐶🩷🐶

#austin butler x reader #austin butler fluff #austin!elvis x reader #austin butler #austin!elvis imagine #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley fluff

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dino-boyo-agere · 9 months ago

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This amazing art piece of my human OCs was made by @littledinosaursposts!!

It's the first ever art piece of these OC's, that are incredibly important to me & I'm absolutely in love with it!! <3

So, thank you again for bringing them to life!

I've been planning on telling y'all about them for a while, but it's so much lore and some of it is a little dark.. uh.. so anyways, here is a "tiny" summary..

Who is who on the picture:

Frank is the tall black man sitting on the floor, he is Chrisses best friend and future husband. In his lab is sitting Nate (yes, I choose the same name for me lols) . On the couch are sitting Nate's big Brother, Chris and Riv, who is Frank's child and Nate's best friend.

About the characters:

Frank - A 25 yo black man and single father of River (Riv). He became a dad at the age of 16, took full custody and raised his kid with the help of his mum. Rivs mother always wanted to be a career woman and Frank always wanted to have children. Frank is now a preschool teacher and LOVES children so much. He's autistic and likes how honest and direct they are, he is very good with children. He calls his kid "Muffin", Nate "pipsqueak" / "Pip" and Chris "Chrissy"/ "Love". He's an absolute rock for Chris and never fails to support him. He knows exactly how to handle a traumatized kid like Nate, since he was a child psychiatrist for a while.

Riv - is 8, goes by they/ them pronouns. Riv loves heavy metal and spending time with their dad. Together they often play video games, DnD or make music (Riv plays the drums and Frank the guitar, bass or piano.) Riv has a hard time connecting with their peers, they are also autistic. Frank did a really good job raising a very intelligent kid, emotionally and generally. Riv knows exactly what they want and are really good at communicating their needs. They share a lot of interests with Chris and the both of them often enjoy horror media or metal music, while Nate and Frank partake in calmer activities, like crafting. Nate is Rivs best friend and "sibby". Even though Riv is bodily younger, they feel like a big sibling, since Nate is permanently regressed and mostly stuck at ca. age 5.

Chris is the big (half) brother of Nate, he took his sibling in after the police removed him from the house of their father. He didn't know the kid existed, no one did (more of that later). He's 26 and trying his best to take care of this deeply traumatized kid. Frank is his neighbor and best friend.. and even though he thought he was straight, he's beginning to realize that he has a huge crush on him. Chris is very loving but a bit overbearing and overly cautious & overprotective with Nate. But Frank is pretty good at grounding him. Chris is trying his best at raising his traumatized sibling.

Nate - ❗Tw - mention of abüse & deäth❗ The police found him chained up in the basement when looking for drugs at the father's house. Any type of abuse one can imagine, he had to go through. His mother was found after he told the police "she sleep in roses." Her body was buried under a rose bush.❗Tw over❗

His left arm is amputated under the elbow and he has many scars. He's still a little underweight, but he's getting better. Nate is intersex and his gender is ambiguous. He has no construct of gender, so he doesn't care what pronouns ppl use for him. The kid has heterochromia, with his right eye the same shade of blue like his brothers eyes, and the left one a turquoise. He also got the same blue streak his Chris has, bc he wants to be like him. He is permaregressed, with his age moving between 3 and 13, depending on the day and possible triggers, tough he's mostly stuck at about 5. He's semi verbal and has selective mutism. His bio age is unknown, since there is no birth certificate. He loves his brother, he calls him "Kiss" because he has trouble pronouncing the name Chris and he calls Frank "Dad" because he keeps hearing his bestie Riv call him that. Nate is obsessed with dinosaurs and the kid would drop everything and anything for an apple.. he loves apples so much. That's because when he was found by the police, one of them gave him some apple slices, that was the first time Nate ever tasted anything sweet.

#nates little ocs #my ocs #agere oc #oc #ocs #sfw interaction only #sfw #sfw agere #agere #age regression #agere community #age regression community #age regressor #agere fandom #agere boy #tw: abuse mention #tw: death mention

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fanficfish · 1 year ago

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a couple of persona 4 headcanons

Just a list of my Persona 4/affiliated media headcanons (I really hope this doesn’t get buried lmfao…also before you ask no I don’t normally post persona I kinda got hooked through the Honkai SR fandom. What can I say, Yu’s very relatable about not wanting to upset and needing to protect the cute kid calling you “big bro”)

I have no idea what’s going on with the whole “Teddie lives with Yosuke” thing because I have literally searched up everything (don’t ask about my youtube watch history please) and here’s my take on it: Yosuke basically came home with a Teddie in tow, presented him as a guy with nowhere to go who was willing to work for his keep, stuffed him in his closet because the “spare bedroom” is his dad’s home office or something, and at some point the Hanamuras just accepted they have two sons now because how can you not like sweet, innocent, naive-but helpful Teddie? Also Yosuke played Teddie’s disappearance off as him being at Yu’s or something. I have no idea how that man pulled this off but it worked. (yes I”m a sucker for hanabros)

I still can’t decide which i prefer: Yu x Yosuke or Yu x Rise (I do like the idea that RIse grabbed Yu, flung him over her shoulder, and marched off into the sunset, though like…have you seen the Persona 4 partner dances???)

I’m actually kinda surprised Yu just goes back to wherever he came from for his third year, like just stay in Inaba for your last year of highschool? You already stayed a whole year. And he canonically has parents who are away a lot on business. But to make sense of this, I propose: He goes back only because the school he’s going to gives him a leg up into the uni he wants to go to (which is understandable. Inaba is a tiny rural town in the middle of nowhere, he’ll probably get some better connections in a city school or something). He definitely comes back on every holidays possible, and messages his friends so often that his new friends at his other school are just like “bro….please at least wear the right uniform….”

RIse’s idol group starts flinging around wild theories on what she did during her year-long break. It ranges from everything from hooking up with three different guys (they spied on her while she was doing a video call with the others (FaceTime apparently existed in 2012, which I kinda forgot about. I think the flip phones kinda just threw me off.)

Yukiko and Chie definitely get together. Have you seen those two? They’re definitely roommates, at the last.

At some point someone asks about Teddie’s bear costume, and Yosuke covers up by saying Kanji made some alterations to it. Kanji does not approve, and Yosuke is seen later running through Inaba with an angry Kanji on his heels.

Also that new outfit Teddie wears in the epilogue of Golden? That’s just Yosuke’s old stuff - Teddie still wears the first human clothes he ever got for fancy occasions, but between Yosuke and Chie they manage to talk him into regular stuff.

And they definitely have a running joke where they introduce Teddie as an exchange student from France (with that bright blond hair and Ouran Host Club-esque style choices, it was bound to happen) whenever they meet someone new. Yosuke knows Teddie will play along anyways, but buys him sweet treats as a bribe anyways. They usually drop the act pretty quite, but it’s really funny for the Hanabros. Especially if Teddie is crossdressing, because that man totally kept his Alice outfit.

Kanji, unfortunately for Yosuke, uses Teddie as a model whenever he decides to get creative. Yosuke is considering getting a second closet because Teddie shares most of Yosuke’s old stuff. Like clothes (Yosuke is the only one who has stuff in Teddie’s size, and Teddie’s growing a bit anyways), In the winter, Teddie regularly shows up to places wearing Yosuke’s sweaters and jackets, and Yosuke is just thankful that Kanji makes Teddie stuff like that in Yosuke’s size so both of them can wear it.

TImeskip: Nanako moves to the city with Yu for highschool, so she can attend a more liberal-arts focussed school. Yu doesn’t mind (he’s like, 26 at this point, and probably works some kind of office job (he likes a bit of quiet in his life, after the chaos called his teenage years and having famous idol Rise Kujikawa as a mate) (and also he gets free Nanako time) and Dojima, finally taking more breaks from work, sometimes drops in to say hi and maybe buy dinner.

Yu also gets to shovel talk Nanko’s first boyfriend. Nanko has to spend half an hour reassuring him that Yu is actually in fact a really nice guy….and then turns around to see Yosuke and Rise waiting for their turn to shoveltalk. And while Yu is scary, having your girlfriend’s older brother’s brofriend and Risette staring you down was not a good follow up. Nanako is rightfully mortified, Yu does in fact bake apology cookies, and Yosuke and Risette manage to drag the couple into an impromptu dance session to ease the tension just a little after nearly scaring the poor kid half to death. (The poor kid is someone in the Phantom Theives, because I saw a really cool AU on AO3 and it lives rent-free in my head. And I like the idea of Nanako becoming a Phantom Thief because “it runs in the family, thanks a lot Yu >:l “

Naoto ends up taking Aketchi under her wing. Does she mind? I mean, to her he’s not entirely horrible. Is she pleased with his actions? …that’s debatable

Inaba becomes known for having great weather. Except for the one time Marie catches a bug going around the town, that ends up behind a horrible mid-January snowstorm. .

Those are the ones I have right now. I’m still working my way through everything (HSR is taking over my brain, I love the Astral Express crew dynamic-)

(also I'm really disappointed we didn't get human Teddie dancing with the others. I need that boost of serotine of watching Yosuke and human Teddie try to dance together.)

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doorrobloxstuff · 1 year ago

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Gay Lizard Acupuncture.

Bury me low and bury me with Ambush pictures

The formatting is super fucked up I am so sorry

Also Seek is trying SO BAD NOT TO SHOW..ANYTHING.. The strength not to kiss Lizard is immense. The strength author trying not make them kiss is also required immense willpower.

Figure also can’t really talk “normally” due to the sheer volume of shit that’s slowly making its way into its mouth.

That weird mind connection thing between Seek and Figgy they also had due to Seek constantly chilling in/on its body is also severed due to how long they were apart.

It can however do a bit of Morse which Seek understands well enough.

—-

In a large cave, a small waterfall cascaded and flowed into a tiny stream that split the cavern in two. Crystals glowed and vines that just as luminously shined a gorgeous blue all across the cave.

It was also infested with thousands of eyes. Blinking. Staring. Watching. All of them belonged to a dark humanoid creature with four arms. Eyes dotted themselves all over its arms and all across its collar. It held small needles in three of its hands, they seemed locked in concentration.

Beneath it lay a large being still small compared to the vast ocean of inky blackness it’s companion was made up of. It’s skin agonizingly jutted outwards in rocky pieces. It’s ribs too, had small spiny rocks jutting out of them.

It lay flat on its hard stomach. Completely still. The only sign of life being the labored rasps it made.

Seek once more pushed another pin into Figure’s tail. Carefully examining the many, many..thousands perhaps of cracks within the structure of its hardened skin.

Seek would be more fascinated..if it wasn’t actively turning Figure into a living statue.

Seek traced a finger from its tail to the back of its head.

All along its lower back..all the way down to its legs..completely impenetrable..

“Pure stone.” It murmured. “If you can even call it that..” Was it stone?

Perhaps it was some sort of keratin armor skin..gone horribly awry.. maybe it was skin that simply never shed..?

Perhaps it could be removed..? Able to be shaved off even?

Seek twirled the needle in its bottom left hand.

It also began to consider..other possibilities..more unpleasant ones..

It traced a finger slightly downwards before putting in another needle. This one near the base of its tail.

What if this was some form of malignant cancer..? Or perhaps even something somehow more horrible then that..? Seek silently cursed itself for lack of familiarity or progress on what could be killing Figure.

A city’s worth of knowledge it had at its disposal… it had wasted countless decades reading utterly useless romance novels and human mythology when it could’ve prepared itself for a situation like this!

It moved its hand back towards the nape of Figure’s head.

For now.. it was just going to play it safe..treat it like the chronic illness it is..mitigate the pain..maintain some sense of normalcy..with what medical knowledge it did have..

It carefully pushed two small cracks apart and managed to carefully guide another pin into it’s dusty flesh.

It backed away, giving the needles time to settle in Figure’s muscles.

It settled on a nearby mossy slab of cave rock.

Taking its time to relax and unwind a little into its thoughts as it watched Figure’s pained rasps begin to subside little by little.

Human mythology..

it remembered a story from one of the countless books it read in its city.

Between tales of silly giant wooden creatures used to deceive people to long epics of adventures long ago..one story stood out to it in its memories.

The tale of a human man who found the women of his kind too flawed for himself so as a result.. he sculpted a bride from ivory and fell in love with his creation. Loving no other thing but her.

The cave’s temperature seemed a bit more humid.

Then..during the holiday of one of his gods. He prayed that he may find a woman as beautiful as the ivory statue he had made.

And in doing so.. a goddess answered his prayers.

Once the sculptor returned home to his studio and kissed his ivory statue..he found her lips warm and his ivory lover alive.

Seek found the story amusing at the time.

Silly human.

Imagine being so egotistical that you reject your own kind and fall In love with a stupid statue! How preposterous! How pathetic! How amusing! How..below it..

It watched Figure stir. It was silent now. The rasping and cries had long since vanished.

Had it fallen asleep..?

More importantly, why did it care? Figure was certainly no Galatea and certainly not…after..everything..after.. Seek Felt a small wave of emotion coming. Something it couldn’t describe.

A mixture of anger and frustration tainted with..that made seek deeply uncomfortable.

It crawled into Seek’s chest and choked its way into its throat.

Silly Seek. Foolish Seek even.

It gripped the moss it sat upon.

Don’t be feeling that now. Now. Now. Just NOT now. Not here, not with it. NOT NOW!

Emotion clouds your judgement! You make stupid, rash decisions! That’s not very godlike of it! Anger, resentment, Grief..perhaps something else even..whatever it felt!

NOT HERE. NOT NOW.

The cave got more humid. Some of its eyes were reddened. Just until it can back to the city.. just not now.. please..Don’t let it feel anything now.. It tucked its face into its hands.

Figure whimpered softly before it opened its jaw a tad and let out a sharp sigh that made its companion a bit startled.

It formed a hand from a nearby wall and carefully lifted its head to address the other exhausted entity.

“You’re awake early…another nightmare I presume..?” It said cooly, its voice echoed across the cavernous room and cascading back with the intent to soothe.

Figure could really only nod before releasing a distorted trill that made Seek snort.

“No Figure, your in a cave, remember..? The needles?”

Figure trilled again. Seek looked almost insulted.

“I am not using you as a ‘pincushion!’ These needles SERVE a purpose and humans traditionally use them to minimize pain and discomfort-“

Seek carefully lifted Figure’s head to get a better look beneath its neckline.

Figure suddenly hissed and jerked its head to snap at Seek before it heard an audible snap and let out a groan of pain.

“… Something of which.. you have plenty of…”

Seek carefully began to pull pins out. Starting with the back of Figure’s head and going downwards.

Figure after awhile hesitantly trilled again. This trill was low and long.

“..Ah, no. It’s fine. Very little can hurt me physically..” Seek grumbled.

Figure released another trill. This one still morose but a tad softer.

“..Ah, Screech and…our…eldest..? They live outside my city, in fact..I saw them just last week. They’re completely fine and Snare still lives with me.”

’Our’ eldest..it felt foreign in the air as it lingered.

Figure lowered its head. Getting comfortable before letting out a more a..teasing trill.

“Yes Figure, MY city.” Seek announced proudly and gesturing to its chest while it plucked out another needle and twirling said needle with a bit of gusto.

Figure another long skeptical trill that made Seek go silent. Figure continued to trill as it went further into explaining its point.

“That’s..not how it works. It’s not Snare’s city too. Just mine. I literally live in every inch of it..”

Figure trilled again, this time it was a bit more throaty and louder.

“N-NINETY NINE PERCENT!??!” Seek screeched much to Figure’s delight.

The blind entity laughed with its stomach before letting out a soft wheeze of pain coupled with a weaker trill.

It stayed silent for a few seconds as Seek murmured something obscene under its breath..then after a moment, Seek began to slowly slide the needles out of Figure.

Figure made a curious trill..

“..Yes, there is books. There’s many..many books. Probably more then you’ve ever seen in your lifetime..even more then the ones you’ve seen at the hotel..”

Figure trilled again in obvious interest.

“..I suppose I could bring you some in braille or maybe I could..give you directions there..” Seek’s voice edged with uncertainty.

The room grew a tad humid once more as Figure tilted its head slightly as though trying to decipher Seek’s intention, whatever that may be.

Seek tentatively pulled out a few more needles in silence.

Figure slowly tested its mouth, before hissing in pain and and closing its scarred muzzle. A soft whimper of pain filled the air.

Seek’s eye narrowed and it slowly strode over to the front of Figure’s mouth.

“Open, please.”

Figure growled and turned its head away.

Seek crossed its arms and muttered something under its breath. “Really now..? I’m just trying to help you, it’s the least you can do..”

Figure whined softly and made a weak trill that made Seek roll its eye.

“..I’m just looking. Now open it up.”

Slowly, Figure peeled its mouth open, congealed blood, saliva and pieces of rock slowly tumbled downwards from its gaping maw. Pus dripped at the sides of Figure’s gums and pieces of rock cut into its tongue.

Seek only needed a glance at the repulsive mess of blood and rocks that permeated Figure’s mouth in stern, sterile silence. “..Alright, you can close it now.”

It said while forcing its eyes away. Figure quickly shut its mouth and laid its head back down.

As Seek pulled out three more needles. It wordlessly did so with precision and much more accuracy then the last whilst observing the silent Figure on the ground.

After awhile, Figure slowly raised its snout to the air. Feeling the changes in the air. Listening to the sound of the waterfall rippling. The tiny snaps of its flytraps. The soft sound of worms digging in nearby dirt. The gentle tinkling of crystals. The puissant buzzing of Seek’s ever-expanding energy field and the blinking of its many eyes.

It made a distorted trill.

A short question that made Seek shiver.

It took out two more pins silently.

The final pin being the first one it placed within the base of Figure’s tail.

It turned away.

“I won’t let that come even close to fruition. If necessary..I’ll..give you some of my mass.”

It pulled out the final pin and set it aside with the rest.

Pulling itself away to observe Figure. Of whom, shuffled a little before slowly getting up and stretched its legs.

Feeling significantly in less pain then before turning its head towards Seek and trilled softly.

“That means nothing. I’ll be returning tomorrow with something to remedy-“ Seek shivered in revulsion.

“…whatever happened to the festering wound that is the interior of your mouth.”

Figure made a trill of frustration, but Seek was already making its departure. Its eyes locked towards the exit.

“..Enough. Goodnight Figure.”

And soon, Figure was alone again.

It shambled over to its nest, pressing it’s muzzle into its soft mossy surface and quietly wept.

——————————————————————————-

I attempted to stay subtle.

#roblox doors #doors roblox #they were then caught snuggling by hide canonically a few weeks later #same bed #blankies and pillows galore #in each others arms #author.txt

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