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elysianslove · 4 years ago

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haikyuu boys that ━━

━━ would absolutely, definitely, 100% get nauseous, dizzy, possibly might faint, while their s/o is in labor. one peak and they’re doubling over the hospital bed, inhaling deeply and exhaling sharply, steeling themselves. some are surprising, some are expected. all are stupid.

iwaizumi hajime; he just cannot. he cannot fathom what is happening. there is no way you’re going through that and surviving. no wonder you’re screaming in pain. of course you’re screaming in pain. he takes one look at what’s going on and just immediately takes a step back, eyebrows raised and hand pressed to his chest like “my god.” he’s an 8/10 though because he is incredibly supportive and those arms are great to grab onto. will not complain for a second (is strangely way too quiet), but he’s worryingly pale. maybe he’s quiet cause if he speaks he’ll throw up.

miya atsumu; he’s this close to screaming. or crying. possibly both. he can’t tell if he’s scared in general or scared for you or if he’s hurting seeing you hurting. in fact, no one can tell. he just looks like he’s watching an alien abduction happen right before his eyes. like a 6/10 because he probably does actually faint. it’s almost as if he’s the one in labor. and he’s the annoying kind of supportive that makes you want to smack him like shut the fuck up i’m pushing a whole child out of me right now. but his reactions are extremely endearing and hilarious to watch back because he most definitely insisted on filming.

akaashi keiji; the silent struggler. really doesn’t wanna make it obvious at all. like he really, really, really doesn’t want you knowing that he’s uncomfortable in any way, but he’s like, sweating from how nauseous he is. a big part of it is hating seeing you in pain; he cringes every time you so much as groan or pant. 7/10 because he’s incredibly supportive but his hands are way too clammy :/ like fr get a grip keiji. again, supportive, but his voice is shaky so it’s like, really ineffective. he cries when he sees his baby and it automatically makes him an 11/10.

sakusa kiyoomi; absolute coward. pussy. it’s not about hygiene, he’s just genuinely mortified. keeps asking you’re okay like,,, what do you think, sir? he keeps looking even though every time he does it doesn’t get any better? question mark? you can see him visibly gulping cause he’s in so much shock. like a 5/10 because he forgets to hold your hand. just stands there. eyes wide and mouth parted like a dumb fish. chokes back on his sobs when he hears his baby’s cries and it’s adorable how he brings his hand up to silence himself so maybe he’s a 7/10.

goshiki tsutomu; please he probably has a panic attack mid labor. definitely screams with you and all the nurses and the doctor are like ???? holds your hand tighter than you’re holding his. apologizes the whole time. the whole time. like the doctor asked him if he wants to see what’s happening, which idk why they would consider that a smart idea, and he just wailed like, “baby i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry, can we just adopt?” a 3/10. he’s so cute but. bring someone else if you don’t want to rip your hair out and his.

kageyama tobio; he absolutely tries to pretend that he’s okay but he just gets really, really quiet once you start delivering and his lips are chapped and his pupils are blown and his face is so pale. he looks like he just got off of a really bad rollercoaster. he’s not even holding your hand you’re just hanging onto an unmoving, lifeless limb. maybe 6/10, cause he could be better in the supportive department but, at least he was quietly panicking. he does have a mini panic attack once his baby is in his arms though. like just starts hyperventilating. it’s okay though! it’s actually kind of cute <3

lev haiba; actually faints. not probably. he actually faints. like all 6′5 of him just drops onto the floor by your bed and you’re like ,,, damn, guess i’m doing this alone then. he wakes up and the first thing he sees is your baby crowning and he just faints again pls. someone has to be there with you, just like to help him to you. he cannot stand straight at all, he’s leaning on the bed the whole time. 5/10 because it genuinely makes you laugh it kind of makes the pain bearable. they have to get a chair in case he just falls back cause he’s just so dizzy pls.

━━ would be so fucking annoying. who the hell let them in this room? why did you agree to this? how are you going to raise a child with them? regrets. so many regrets.

tanaka ryūnosuke; he’s like annoyingly scared. shut up and calm down for a minute i’m trying to birth your child here. swears so much like “holy shit holy shit that’s a big baby.” like pls you’re trying to push it out of you and he has the audacity to say shit like that? treats it like it’s some sort of volleyball match like he cheers whenever the doctor praises you. maybe a 5/10 cause he’s just annoying, but it’s motivating in a way. accepts any insult you throw at him too, like he’s so on board with it. “yes, i’m absolutely a piece of shit— what do you mean you’re not getting anywhere near my dick babe wait.”

bokuto kōtarō; listen :( you don’t want to think he’s annoying but he lowkey is. he’s trying his hardest to make this an easier experience for you but you just need him to be a little quieter. like this hurts bo, calm down please. you want to match his energy but it’s literally physically impossible. he’s an 8/10 though because you doubt it’d have been possible to go through it without him. bokuto’s incredibly ripped too so he lets you hang onto him and he holds you tightly too, like grips your hands and legs so strong that it’s v physically supportive too.

kozume kenma; he’s so. quiet. like say something kozume. say anything. he’s just wincing and cringing. 4/10 cause where’s the emotion. lets you hold his hand, like wow you should be honored. insults you back if you insult him???? like what’s that about???? when he sees his baby he does like, sharply intake a breath or whatever cause he doesn’t want to cry but he’s really struggling not to, which is kind of cute you guess. films the whole thing and does like a peace sign with a very nonchalant face but he has a filter on and the filter scans your face too except you’re like screaming. actually a 3/10.

sugawara kōshi; he’s incredibly supportive yes, but mans will be laughing at you. laughing. at you. probably films you and is like properly giggling and laughing boisterously. is so unfazed by anything and everything he sees. he would so easily be a 10/10 but he becomes a -1/10 just cause he’s an ass. definitely like is breathless and is so mind-blown when he sees his baby. just in awe and in shock that he laughs like, “we made that holy crap.” good to have in the delivery room because he does make the atmosphere easier and more lighthearted, but,,, at what cost? your sanity’s.

suna rintarō; the amount of times you wanted to punch him you cannot count on your ten fingers. makes some sex joke about how you’re so stretched out. you literally want to deck him. films the birthing process and makes you watch the video when you’re not even done delivering the baby? cause he’s insane i guess? justifies it as “this is a reminder of how strong you are,” like shut up with your bullshit. it’s kinda smart tho cause you can pull this on your kid later but still. he’s so fucking annoying. if you hold his hand too hard he’ll be like “it can’t be that bad stop being such a baby,” and the baby is delivered like an hour early out of spite. a 6/10 tho cause somehow you love him and decided to have a baby with him.

ushijima wakatoshi; pt.2 to say fucking something??? he’s mostly quiet cause he doesn’t really know what to say, and cause he’s never seen you in this much pain and it’s kind of shocking him. he’s not scared though, cause it’s like, a natural process of human life and the life cycle and all that stuff, he’s just like. taking time to process it. lets you hold his hand though. also if you wanna like give up halfway through he’s annoyingly angry with you like “no. you can’t just give up halfway. stop being a coward.” like why don’t you give it a try toshi??? a 5/10. could do better.

terushima yuuji; so hyperactive that it’s infuriating. doesn’t even hold your hand, he just stands back and observes and like cheers. literally will jump every time you push, like what the fuck, my love? makes really weird comments like “what does it feel like? does it feel like you’re pooping?” like???? it feels like i’m being torn in half yu :D a 4/10 only cause when you ask if you can slap him he wholeheartedly agrees and the doctor cannot hold their laugh back. also definitely plays like the chika dance and makes the nurses do it with him. probably films a tiktok too. you’re going to kill him after.

oikawa tōru; he’s trying so hard to be supportive and your backbone but he’s just so jittery and nervous. he’s not going to faint or get nauseous, but he literally cannot stay still. he’s so anxious it’s making you anxious. his hands are shaking when they grip yours, but honestly, completely unbiased of course, an 8/10, cause it really is so endearing. like he’s breathlessly and exasperatingly praising you and you can tell he’s near tears just gasping back sobs so ,,, maybe he’s not that annoying. but he is. he is annoying. a little.

━━ would be the best of the best. perfectly supportive. a lovely anchor. not too quiet, not too chatty. is so soft and gentle with you. you fall in love with them all over again.

miya osamu; definitely a 10/10. husband material. he has a cloth that’s just patting away at your sweat. kisses your hand and knuckles. soothingly rubs at your thighs. tells you you’re doing great, that it’ll all be worth it. kisses your forehead. grins at you halfway through when you need that extra motivation. literally all the nurses and the doctor are swooning over him. he’s very nervous deep down but he won’t show it, not for a moment, for your sake. 10/10. can’t stress this enough.

kita shinsuke; another king! so soft with you when you feel like giving up. just speaks to you in hushed tones like, “you’ve come this far, lovely. you can’t back out now. think of all the happy moments we’ll get to share just a few hours from now.” and you’re like “alright i’m sold.” completely unfazed by anything he sees. okay maybe a little fazed but he just kisses your forehead after sneaking a peak and tells you you’re doing wonderfully. 100000/10. imagine him as the father of your children???? like literally who else would you want????

aran ojiro; wow another inarizaki i sense a trend. except atsumu he’s a pussy. cheers you on quietly, holds onto your legs, breathes with you, smooths your hair back, literally just an angel. if you take a small break he just spends it quietly talking with you to get your mind off the pain. his knuckles are just caressing your jaw and cheek softly till you’ve calmed down. 10/10 obviously. he’s just the right amount of loud supportive and quiet supportive. kisses you full on the mouth when he first hears his baby’s cries and can’t stop thanking you. literally wtf he’s so cute.

kuroo tetsurō; he’s actually surprisingly very serious when you’re delivering the baby. he’s cracking jokes and all before to try and get you less nervous but it’s actually because he’s freaking out. he’s mostly quiet, just holding onto your hand as tightly as you’re gripping his. he holds his breath every time you push. keeps whispering i love you and pressing kisses to your temple. a 9/10 cause he’s so quiet it’s a little scary but he cannot hold back his tears when he sees his baby. kisses you all over your face after.

satori tendō; very emotional. like so emotional. he’s teary eyed the whole time, just thanking you even if you hadn’t given birth yet. it makes the nurses cry too cause it’s so lovely to see him get so visibly affected by this. he’s just whispering thank you’s and i promise not to let you down ever and i promise to love you forever and you’re pretty sure he’s speaking to the baby you’re birthing at this point. 9/10 cause he made you cry :( no but really he’s a 10/10. super loving, keeps asking you if you’re okay, if you need water, need to hold his hand, anything. angel, fr.

matsukawa issei; relatively surprising as well because you expected him to be more than just annoying, but he’s just. in awe. he’s so amazed by how much you’re going through, and he just stores it in the back of his brain. literally thanks you for the next 50 years to come. laughs endearingly with you to lighten the mood. 9/10. a point is deducted because he jokingly said that now you’ll be able to take his dick really easily. a nurse choked in shock pls. gets real close after to whisper i love you so that only you can hear. he’s just a dream <3

━━ would not let you move an inch after giving birth. all the work is on them for the next 5 years.

all of them. not a single one is left out in this one. they’re annoying but ,,, they all love very strongly <3

end note; listen idk what this is. i had a vision where iwaizumi could not handle his s/o giving birth and the thought was actually so sweet to me, just the nurses laughing at him and he’s just breathing deeply to try and not throw up and then. this happened. anyways. this helped put me in a better mood so i hope it does/did for anyone else too!

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chronicallycrow · 4 years ago

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Footprints.

Prompt: Your soulmate leaves coloured footprints only visible to you.

Ship: Dipper Pines x Reader

Word Count: 2213

Fandom: Gravity Falls

TW: Swearing, mentions of being tied up (not detailed), mentions of blood (not detailed), also possibly for mention of forced marriage?

Summary: [Y/N] goes on a walk in the woods, alone. It doesn't go as planned and Dipper gets rather angry about what happens to them.

Again, extra thanks to Star! They also really helped me with ideas for this one!

“I'm going on a walk!” You called out, opening the door to the Shack. You and your close friend, were staying at his Great Uncle's house. “Where to?” Dipper called back, a slight bit concerned. “Just around!” You called back, though you had slightly darker intentions. You were going to go into the woods, which you had been strictly warned not to without Ford or Dipper. But you wanted to go alone- You wanted to go on adventure, and that slight sense of danger just excited you more. Nothing bad would happen to you, though, right?

You made your way into the forest, sunlight slowly beginning to dim as you walked on further. You hummed quietly as you walked, looking around at the scenery. Sure, this place gave you a bit of a creepy vibe, but it was nothing too bad! Besides, there was a trail! You'd find your way back! You were very confident in yourself of that! That showed in your stride as you walked on.

After an hour or so, you decided to start to head back. You turned around, but felt something pull on your leg. You glanced down to see little men- Gnomes! Those are what these were! They almost tried to kidnap Mabel, but there was only one, you'd be good! You kicked him away and began on your merry way back to the shack, however the gnomes had different plans, and you were soon out on the ground cold, and being dragged back to begin a courting session with a bunch of creepy little men.

It had been a few of hours, and Dipper was starting to get concerned. He'd thought you'd be back by now. He stepped out onto the porch, the sun was starting to set. He glanced around, and saw a trail of near-neon footprints leading into the woods. You'd always left those footprints. Dipper didn't know what they meant, really, and he'd brought them up to no avail, but he knew they were yours. You'd gone into the woods. Alone. You could be in danger- Oh god, oh god no- Where was Ford??

“Grunkle Ford!!” Dipper screamed, near further breaking the vending machine as he punched (quite literally?) the code in and came down the elevator (which seemed to be going much too slow). “[Y/N]- They- They went into the woods- Alone!” He started, panic clear in his voice. “They- They could be in danger! You HAVE to help me!!” He was hyperventilating, eyes wide in fear. Ford took one look at him, got up, and grabbed two flashlights, handing one to Dipper. “Calm down. We'll find them.” Dipper nodded, and they headed back up to start their trek into the woods.

“How do you know they went into the forest?” Ford questioned, turning on his flashlight as they began to walk. “Footprints-” Dipper was still out of breath from his panic attack. “Footprints?” Ford questioned. He nodded. “They're- These neon colored footprints- They always leave them behind!” Ford blinked at Dipper, looking at him confused. “I don't see anything, Dipper...” He glanced around at the area Dipper was pointing to with his flashlight. Maybe there was a hint of a bootprint, but not neon footprints. Dipper just shook his head and began into the woods, Ford close behind.

It took Dipper and Ford about an hour to find the end of the footprints. They just… Ended? “What?!” Dipper near yelled, worry and panic lacing his voice again. “Calm down.” Ford sighed, glancing at the ground. He look around a bit more, pointing the flashlight around the trail. That's when both of them noticed it- Drag marks. Something had stolen [Y/N] away. The idea of that made Dipper feel mildly sick. What had stolen them?! Were they alright? Crap- Crap!!

Just then, the both of them heard a blood curdling scream, followed by a, “LET ME GO, YOU MONSTERS!!” Ford glanced at Dipper, then back in the direction the scream had come from. “Ford, we have to go after them-” “Dipper, we're not prepared. We have nothing to counter them with.” Ford replied, sighing. “Grunkle Ford! I love them!! We can't just leave them there! Those fucking gnomes tried to court my sister and now them?! We can't just let them get taken by the gnomes!” Ford stared at Dipper, in utter shock that he'd just sworn.

The two of them then heard distant yelling, from [Y/N]. “Do you hear that?! Dipper's going to come save me from you FREAKS!!” Followed by another scream and a, “GET OFF OF MY LEG!!” Dipper than broke out into a full sprint, Ford following behind, albeit slower and more carefully.

“Dipper Pines?” One of the gnomes questioned. “Yes, Dipper Pines! He's going to kill you when he gets here!” You struggled- These stupid creatures had tied you to a tree! A tree!! And they were trying to climb up your legs?! The main one- Jeff, was it? Oh who gives a shit what his name was – Began to pace around. “He already tried to steal our queen once… Now he's going to steal you from us?” “I'm not yours!!” You screamed, squirming more. “You WILL be our ruler! My lovely, wonderful spouse!” “I'm NOT going to be your god damn spouse!” You yelled back, feeling the ropes begin to loosen a bit. Oh thank god.

“You can't keep doing this- We aren't prepared- Dipper--” Ford was now running a bit faster, Dipper was still ahead by a good bit. The both of them could see the fire from the gnomes, as well as a shadow of someone tied up to a tree. They tied you up in a tree?! Oh, that made Dipper even more angry! He was going to destroy those gnomes.

“[Y/N]-!” Dipper called as he stumbled upon the sight. “Dipper Pines.” Jeff started, turning around. “I remember you, you sound a lot different from when I first met you, and-” He stopped, and stared at Dipper, his smug expression dropping. “A lot...” He started to back up, putting his hands up. “Talleeeerrr...” Dipper crossed his arms, glaring daggers at the previously mentioned gnome. “You stole my sister and now them?! What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!” Ford, out of breath already from running so much, lost his breath again when Dipper swore. Again.

You managed to wrangle yourself loose from the ropes, falling on your knees, legs a bit weak from being stuck in the tree. Dipper ran over to you, catching you before you fully fell. He pulled you up, holding you extremely tightly, like if he let go you were going to be stolen away by the gnomes again. (Most of them were cowering in the corner from seeing a now tall Dipper.) “If you mess with someone I love one more time I am GOING to come out here and kill you all myself, do you HEAR me?!” Dipper threatened, pulling you closer to him. Ford stared at his great-nephew, astonished. He really was pissed at these gnomes.

“[Y/N]- Are you okay? Oh my god I'm so sorry- Are you okay?” His tone had softened, quite a bit. “I- I'm fine, Dipper-” He loosened his grip on you, glancing at you. “You're bleeding- Oh god you're bleeding-” He wasn't bothered by blood, unless it was yours, apparently. “I'm- Fine- Really-” “No, we're going back to the shack and getting you patched up- I'm- God I'm so sorry this is all my fault I-” He picked you up and began to carry you out of the woods, rambling about how he was sorry for swearing and how he was so sorry he wasn't there with you.

By the time the three of you had gotten back to the shack most of the shock had worn off. You felt a bit ill from the adrenaline rush, and the scratches on your legs were beginning hurt a bit, but other than that you were fine. Ford, on the other hand, was still shocked at Dipper's outburst and swearing. He got inside and sat down at the table, staring off into space and thinking about the fact he'd heard Dipper swear- At him, someone he idealized.

Dipper took you into the bathroom and cleaned you up, insisting on making sure every wound was covered. (He was still apologizing greatly about what happened.) Once he was done wrapping your legs up he finally let you get up. You were a bit shaky, but overall mostly okay. You two walked down to the kitchen, you getting a glass of water and sat across from Ford. You were trying to make the nausea from having an adrenalin rush go away.

Dipper moved behind you, his hands gently rubbing your shoulders in an endearing way. You leaned back and closed your eyes- He was definitely helping calm you down, at least a little bit. Stan and Mabel came down a few minutes later, both staring at the scene in front of them. Stanford Pines, the one who always looked ready for everything and showed no weakness, no fear, always calm as could be, was sitting there, disheveled and astonished.

Stan looked over the scene, before plainly stating, “What the fuck happened here?” “Well- You see- [Y/N] went into the woods, and-” “I'll explain. Stanley, a word?” The Stans went away into another room, while a tired (but slowly growing less so) Mabel stood in the doorway, staring at her brother, who was genuinely showing affection to somebody.

“Stanley. Dipper swore. At me.” Ford started with. A great start, really. Stan blinked, raising an eyebrow. “He swore at you?” He repeated, clearly in doubt. “Yes. Multiple times- Though the second was aimed at the gnomes. You see, [Y/N] went into the woods, and Dipper was following these- Footprints they had left?” He was still unsure on that part. “They had been taken by the gnomes. Dipper was… Very unhappy with the whole situation, and he swore at me, Stanley.” Stan let out a hearty laugh, patting his brother's shoulder- Poor Ford still looked extremely distraught.

Mabel, who had been eves dropping on her grunkle's, turned to Dipper, who was now getting you another glass of water. “You saw their FOOTPRINTS?!” She near yelled, though out of excitement. Oh my gosh! Her bother had found his soulmate!! Dipper turned to her, raising an eyebrow as he gave the now full glass to you. “Yeah?” He sat down beside you, giving you a glance. “DIPPER DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?!” “N..o?” He tilted his head. You were way too out of it to think properly- Though you did remember seeing Dipper leaving neon footprints behind him as he carried you… Weird.

Mabel squealed. “YOU TWO ARE SOULMATES!! I KNEW IT!!” At this point, all of Gravity Falls was going to be awoken by Mabel's yelling. “What?!” was simultaneously yelled by three individuals- Stan, Ford, and Dipper. You were... still a bit too out of it, and were trying to ignore Mabel's yelling. “YES!!” She squealed, running over to him. “There are these neon footprints! When you meet your soulmate, they leave them!! Eeee!! Dipper!! You found them! YOU FOUND THEM!” She was now jumping up and down. You groaned, and Dipper turned to you with a concerned look, gently rubbing your back.

You swore you heard Ford make an offhanded comment about someone named Fiddle…. Fiddleford? And Stan letting out a snort. “Mabel, that isn't possible...” Dipper shook his head, looking at you. Were you his soulmate? No, you couldn't be. Those footprints meant nothing.

“Dipper Pines!” Mabel- Almost screamed, though she was being slightly quieter now. “Don't deny it! I knew it! Look at the way you're treating them!” Dipper shook his head, though deep down he knew that was the truth. You leaned into his hand a bit as he continued to rub your back. “Dipper I know you love them!” She squealed. Yeah, you knew he loved you too. It was platonic right? I mean, sure, you were in love with him, but he didn't need to know that. “Mabel- Not that way.” Dipper sighed. “Yes that way!! You've stayed up at night talking about them!” She squealed. You glanced at him, and let out this soft laugh with a weak, “Really?”

“Uh- No!” “He's lying!” You knew he was lying- He was never good at hiding it. You let out a tired laugh, and let yourself lean against Dipper with a sigh. “Hey, Dipstick?” You muttered to him, glancing up at him. “Yeah?” He asked, ignoring Mabel again. “Can we go to bed?” He looked at you, then nodded. “Do you want me to carry you?” He questioned, and you simply gave a nod in response. The two of you had already decided you'd sleep in the same bed- That wasn't weird, right? No, not at all.

He laid you down, and got under the covers with you. “If I make you uncomfortable, tell me, okay?” He asked, softly. You nodded again, cuddling up to him. “Hey Dipper?” You murmured, nuzzling into him a bit. “Yeah?” He replied, softly. “Goodnight. I love you.” He gave a breathy laugh, though the feeling in his chest told a different story. “Goodnight, [Y/N]. I love you, too.” Now it was your turn to, tiredly, laugh. “I know, baby, I know.”

#Dipper Pines #Dipper Pines x Reader #Gravity Falls #Soulmate AU #Older dipper #GF #Fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #gnomes #writing prompt #writing #AM writes

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theonewiththefanfics · 4 years ago

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Because Hearts Get Broken (Part 1/3)

Synopsis: When your whole life you’ve been taught to push your feelings away, it’s hard to open up, even to the people you trust most. And sometimes what you give isn’t enough.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: sad. just angsty and sad. swearing; emotionally closed reader

Word count: 2904

Y/N had never been the kind of person who talks about her feelings. It didn’t matter if it was friends or family; her mindset was – they’re my problems, so you don’t have to worry your head about it.

In relationships, it wasn’t any better, in fact, it was kinda worse. It was extremely difficult for the girl to open up to her partner, which in turn she’d let so many possible relationships pass her by. Not to mention, when she was in one, they slowly deteriorated because of her inability to share with them. Which is why it didn’t come as much of a surprise when it happened between her and Harry.

Somehow unconsciously Y/N had been almost preparing herself, preparing her heart for it to break. When he walked inside his place, she’d been there to prepare them a meal in. They’d both had a stressful couple of weeks with Harry starting off on a new album endeavour, while Y/N’s boss was practically threatening to rip her head off, as she scrambled to finish everything, even though the deadlines were months away.

It just all kind of came crashing down on her when her boss suddenly called her up, telling her to rush back to the office, and when Y/N asked if it could wait until the morning, the ultimatum came that if she wanted her job, she’d do it then and there.

“Hey.” She hadn’t heard Harry come in, only noticed it when his arm wrapped around her shaking shoulders. “Hey, shh, come ‘ere.”

Slowly, he laid the two of them down, letting her head be tucked beneath his chin, as his palm rubbed soothing circles on her back. “ ‘S gonna be okay, dove. ‘S gonna be alright. Come on, now.”

They laid like that for about five minutes, until Y/N pushed her face away from Harry’s chest and laid her cheek there, taking in a few short, shaky breaths, and steadying herself by placing her palm on his chest and feeling the steady thuds of his heart.

“Wanna talk about it?” he muttered in her Y/H/C locks, placing a soft kiss to the crown of her head, but she sighed, shaking her head no.

“ ‘S fine. Overreacted.”

“You were sitting on the couch, crying and hyperventilating, dove. Obviously, something’s wrong.”

“Harry,” Y/N let out a long breath. “Can you please just let it go? It’s nothing major. If it was, I’d tell you.”

“Would you though?” The whisper went almost unnoticed, but Y/N did hear it, and it made her eyebrows furrow and push herself up from where they’d been nestled together.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean.” Harry bit the inside of the cheek. “When is the last time you ever told me what’s bothering you? Like really, truly made you upset?”

“What are you implying?” Y/N’s voice had gone steely, almost emotionless, as her brain pretty much screamed ‘it’s happening’.

“How can I help you when you don’t let me in?” His gaze was pleading, as his hands grasped onto her cheeks.

“You’re not supposed to.”

“Pardon?”

Y/N sighed and stood up from the couch, letting his touch fall away. “You’re not supposed to. They’re my problems to deal with, not yours, so you’re not supposed to help me. And there’s nothing to help me with.”

“Do you not trust me?”

“Of course, I trust you,” she scoffed as if it was the most ridiculous question in the world. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“How are we supposed to be in a relationship, if you don’t trust me?”

“I dunno,” Y/N whispered hugging herself. Sometimes she hated how her brain worked, but it was inevitable, right? It always came to this, so why not be the bad guy in the situation. “Maybe we’re not supposed to then.”

Harry was more than stunned at her reply. Not once during their relationship, he'd thought that her immediate reaction to a problem would be to immediately dismiss their love. "You - you don't mean that."

"Well," Y/N sniffled wiping at her cheeks where new tears were trailing down, "maybe I do. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. I mean they do say the first year is spent with rose-coloured glasses on, right? 'S time to take 'em off."

“So that’s it? You’re giving up just like that?”

“What do you want me to do?” Y/N exasperated throwing her hands up. “It’s the way I am, and I can’t change that. And if you can’t accept it, then yeah, maybe I am giving up just like that.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief. “I –,” he stammered, “I can’t believe this.”

“What do you want from me, Harry?”

“To fight!” He was practically yelling at this point, hoping to see some kind of emotion on Y/N’s face. “To let me in! To – to – fuck! To start trusting me!”

“I do trust you!”

“But not enough to trust me with your heart.”

A deafening silence fell over both of them because without needing a confirmation, Harry knew he’d struck gold. God, how he wished he hadn’t, but the numb expression Y/N's face morphed into told him enough.

“I’m giving you what I can.” Y/N’s voice was quiet, resolute. “And if that’s not something you can accept, then this is it.”

Now Harry was the silent one. But sometimes you don’t need words to say everything you mean.

“Okay then.” She nodded, went to the mantlepiece and took her clutch. “I’ll see ya around, I guess.”

And with that Y/N walked out of Harry’s apartment without a glance back.

***

Two and a half months later and he still couldn’t understand how everything had gone so wrong. He was at the New Year party, and Y/N was there too, courtesy of Sarah, who was their mutual friend and hosted it each year. This one was a lot more intimate, seeing as the pandemic, though contained, was still raging on, so only the closest and most important people in her life had been invited. Sarah'd been actually the one who introduced the two. Well, more so given them a shove in the right direction. A literal one at that.

The night had been absolute chaos and became an even bigger one when Y/N entered his life, Harry recalled. Drinks were flowing, bodies were moving in an erratic rhythm, most of them completely unaware of how the music boomed while voices shouted the incorrect lyrics and glasses clinked as everyone celebrated the upcoming year, buzzing with excitement as they waited for the countdown. That’s when Sarah, pulling a woman by her arm stormed towards Harry and pushed her into his chest.

“Do not let her leave your sight!” she’d hollered over the music, as Harry blinked at his drummer. “And you!” Sarah pointed at the woman, who giggled, hiding behind her champagne glass and slinking further down Harry’s frame, so much so, he had to grab onto her armpits otherwise she would fall. “Behave for at least five minutes! I need to check up on Mitch before he decides vodka would be a good addition and completely destroys the room.”

With that Sarah was gone, brown hair swishing in a high ponytail, leaving Harry confused and concerned as this stranger snickered behind Sarah’s back, showing her tongue like a child would.

“Umm,” he started not really knowing what to do. “You alright there?”

“ ‘M Y/N.” She leaned up with as much grace as a drugged-up cat, spun around to face him and extended her hand to him, and he took it, giving it a firm shake. “And I might be a lil’ bit drunk.”

A chuckle escaped his lips. “You don’t say?”

“I do.” Y/N nodded confidently about her statement as she swayed on her feet. Harry had to grab her by the shoulder for the woman to remain somewhat upright. “And when I’m drunk, I thrive on chaos.”

“Is that why Sarah shoved you to me so I can babysit you?”

“See, she just doesn’t appreciate me and my talents. She thinks that I’m ‘unreliable’.” Y/N put the word in quotation marks, and in doing so, half her champagne spilt out of the flute. “And she thinks I need ‘supervision’.” There went the other half. “Honestly, it’s Sarah that needs to be looked after. It’s not me that set the curtains on fire.”

But the look on her face told Harry something different, and a smile bloomed on his face. “You set the curtains on fire?”

“I just told you, I didn’t.”

“Yes, well, your face is telling me a different story.”

Instantly Y/N facepalmed. “Stupid face. Can’t keep in check. Listen, the curtains were just…” She waved her hand around. “In the way of the flame. ‘S not my fault they’re made from such flammable material. Should’ve gotten more fire-resistant curtains, if you ask me.”

“Note taken – don’t let you near anything that can be set on fire or is fire.”

Y/N scoffed and gave Harry a side-eye. “As if you can tell me what to do. I shouldn’t even be talking to you.”

“And why's that?”

“Stranger danger.” Y/N wagged her free index finger in Harry’s face accentuating each syllable.

“Well then, let’s not be strangers.” He extended his hand just as Y/N had and waited until she took it. “ ‘M name’s Harry.”

“Good to meet you, Harry. Now, Sarah said nothing about not letting me dance, so come on! I love this song!” she exclaimed, making Harry throw his head back in laughter as she dragged him to the middle of the room, bodies grinding against them, but it didn’t really matter. Not when Y/N made Harry feel as if it was just the two of them in the world.

“Do you now?”

“Yes! Especially when he does the ‘da – dananana da – dananana’ part.” Her eyes went wide with excitement and pride. “Sarah’s in this song as well! She's the drummer!”

His eyebrow quirked up in amusement. Y/N clearly had no idea who she was talking to, and he was kind of loving her for it. Most of the time, as flattering as it was, it could become quite taxing when people recognised you with every step of the way. He wasn’t really allowed to have his smile leave his face, nor was he allowed to stay too lost in his thoughts, needing to be on constant alert if someone asked something.

But Y/N seemed to not care, and something in Harry told him – she wouldn’t care about it if she knew the truth.

“Wanna hear a secret?”

Y/N gasped, eyes twinkling in the disco ball light. “Of course! I love secrets.”

“I’m Harry!”

“I know you’re Harry. You said it already.”

Her confused face made his smile widen even more. “No, I mean I’m Harry. Harry Styles. This is my song.”

And then it dawned on her inebriated brain. “Ooh. You’re Harry Styles!”

“Yeah.”

“Good for you then!” And she put up her hand in a high-five, and he couldn’t leave her just hanging like that, belly-shaking laughter erupting from him before he weaved their fingers together and spun her around.

That night had been one of the best New Year’s he’d ever had. Throughout the hour before the clock struck 12, she’d sobered up enough that when Harry asked if he could kiss her, she was coherent and could say yes. It’d been the best kiss of their lives by that point.

But now, seeing Y/N walk around Sarah’s apartment a smile on her face that he recognised to be fake, and laughter ringing in his ears that he knew wasn’t true, made him look back at that night and wonder if she’d been truly happy then.

She definitely seemed to have been, fuck, Harry hoped she was happy for at least some of it; that when Y/N said she was alright, she’d truly meant it, otherwise, he had no idea what he’d do with himself, but in all honesty, despite the fallout between the two, what he wished was for her to come back. To give him the slightest glimpse into what worried her. That would be enough.

In the beginning, Harry supposed, it was his own fault. He’d thought Y/N was just strong, she was so level-headed that whenever something was wrong, it was tackled immediately and righted that exact second, but in truth, it was just hiding, putting on a performance and living through a smile that was a complete lie.

He saw Sarah lean into Y/N and whisper something in her ear before her head snapped in Harry’s direction, Y/E/C eyes meeting his. He then watched her let out a breath, give Sarah a small smile and look at him once more before approaching, Harry’s own back straightening out as she opened the balcony door and entered his space.

She was a vision, a black and gold glitter romper covering her body, cinched at the waist with a solid gold-colour metal band, while the sleeves fluttered off in a ‘Morticia Addams’ style, as Y/N liked to call it, with her hair out of the way of her face in a simple knot at the base of her neck. Easy to make and easy to take out.

“Bobby pins are the creations of the Devil,” she’d muttered one night after they’d gone to some Hollywood event. Harry couldn't even remember what it'd been for, most of his focus on making sure his date was alright.

One by one she'd untwisted and twirled the metal pins out of her head. “Fucking, scraping my brain from the outside of my skull.”

Harry had chuckled, untying the lace front of his blouse style shirt. “Wanna massage?”

The affirmative groan made him grin like a child on Christmas.

Y/N was the one to break the silence, after having her eyes rake over his own form. A fitted chequered suit paired with a simple dress shirt and chequered moccasins. One of the tamer looks for him, but he wasn’t feeling very festive this year.

“Hey.”

Harry sighed, putting his hands in his pockets. “Hi.”

God, how had everything become so fucking awkward between them?

“How,” she cleared her throat, “how are you?”

“Honestly?” Harry wanted to spit out the ‘I’m fine’, the line that was so overused by her it’d lost its meaning, but he couldn’t. He’d always been an open book, especially with Y/N, so he told her the truth. “I’m hurting.”

“Harry…” Her eyes met the floor unable to hold his green gaze.

“Every day I wake up, and I’m in pain. And it’s not getting easier. And it won’t. Not for a long while.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry.” He laughed even though he didn’t mean it. “I just wanted you to talk to me. You know I’d never judge you.”

“It’s not about that…”

“Then what is it?” Harry snapped. “Because I’m at a fucking loss here. Have been for the past two and a half months.”

“It’s not easy when…” Y/N actually bit down on her tongue to not let the words out. She took in a calm, collected breath; then she continued. “It’s not easy to open up like you want me to when my whole life I’ve been taught to just push it down. Push it away, forget about it. I don’t know a different life. That’s my normal, that’s what I know. I know you wouldn’t have judged me, you’re not that kind of a person. But it’s not even about that. It’s… it’s… why couldn’t you have just left everything at ‘I’m fine’?”

“Because I don’t want to be fine,” he said, sad eyes looking right through her, right through to Y/N’s being. “I – I wanna be great, and ecstatic and fucking exhilarated or hurting or sad, even devastated. I want to feel things. And I want to share them with the person I trust most. I wanna share them with you. And I want you to share your emotions with me too. It’s not your job to carry the weight of the world on your own. That’s what a partner is there for.”

Y/N broke away from Harry’s eyes given how her own were now lined with tears that threatened to slip down her cheeks. She sniffled, using the sleeve of her romper to press against her nose.

New Years. When the previous one had started off with so much love and hope and laughter and the new one seemed to only show it had tears and heartache ahead. God, this was the worst holiday in existence.

“Ten, nine, eight,” the people inside counted down.

“Y/N, please.” One last try. He had to.

“Seven, six, five.”

She just shrugged. “I don’t know how to be different."

“Three, two, one! Hap–“

“Happy New Year, Harry.” Y/N leaned up and pressed a lingering kiss against his cheek. “I hope you find someone who can love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

With hands in her pockets, she retreated leaving him standing alone on the balcony, but right as she was about to close the sliding door, he spoke up.

“I had.”

That made Y/N spin around, cold air hitting her face just as harshly as the truth that spilt past his lips.

“Only she didn’t trust that I loved her the same.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Forever tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

A/N: Part 2? maybe??

P.S. my tags are always open :)

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beelsnack · 5 years ago

Text

The Obey Me! Boys and How They Cuddle

Because this quarantine got me touch-starved. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Slight NSFW warning for Asmo.

Lucifer: He could feel his heartbeat in his forehead as he reclined (not slouched, he would never slouch) against the back of his chair. He had at least three different reports to write for Diavolo, the ever-growing stack of bills addressed to Mammon was beginning to lean alarmingly to the left, and he had just received word that one of his brothers had broken a stained-glass window at RAD. Again.

The sound of his door creaking open startled him out of his brooding. He whipped around with a scowl already set in place, but his expression soften when he registered the human standing there. They were carrying a tray in their hands, which were wrapped carefully in the sleeves of their shirt to stave off the chill of the Devildom evenings.

“You missed dinner,” they set the tray down on the edge of his desk, away from all of the important documents. “I was worried the others were going to start a riot.”

“I wouldn’t put it past them.” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. On top of the pounding in his head, he was beginning to feel the muscle in his neck tensing from being bent over writing for the majority of the day. Great, now his responsibilities were becoming a literal pain in the neck instead of just a figurative one.

“Lucifer?” concern laced through their voice as they spoke. “Are you okay?”

Their hands were still planted on the desk where they had set the tray down, eyes trained on him like they were worried he would explode. This left them wide open, and Lucifer was nothing if not opportunistic.

“Come here.”

The human yelped as he gripped them around the waist and easily hoisted them into his lap. Their legs dangled uselessly over one arm of the chair and Lucifer had pressed their torso against his own. He kept them close, encasing them in his arms as he rested his cheek on top of their head.

“Lucifer!” they attempted to wiggle out of his grasp, but both of them knew it would do nothing. “I’m not a teddy bear!”

“Oh? But the job suits you perfectly.”

They huffed petulantly, but instead of pouting, they wrapped their arms around his neck and accepted their fate. “Just ask next time, okay?”

Mammon: “...stupid lil’...why do they hafta...treat their older brother with at least a lil’ respect!”

The door to the living room burst open, causing the human sitting on the couch to jump and quickly whip their headphones out. Mammon definitely didn’t get a little mushy when he noticed their expression go from on guard to exasperatedly fond.

“What happened now?”

The Avatar of Greed flopped unceremoniously onto the couch next to them and sighed dramatically. “Why do they always gotta gang up on me?!”

“Because it’s funny to watch you explode?”

“Not helping, human.”

They started to laugh, but when they saw Mammon slouch down a little further, they cut themselves off. “Does it really get to you that much?”

“Sometimes,” Mammon scratched at his neck. “Even when I’m trying to help, they start taking jabs at me for no reason.”

The human was silent for a moment before they shoved the worksheet they had been scribbling away at into their textbook and closed it. “That’s not right.”

“You’re damn right it ain’t! I’m a good big brother, and every time I -” a light tug on his hair cut him off mid-rant. The human had scooted down to the end of the couch and was looking at him expectantly. When had they grabbed a hold of his hair?

His human was nothing if not persistent, and who was he to deny them? He followed their tugs down to rest his head in their lap, stretching out his long legs. Their gentle fingers kept weaving and scritching in his hair, and his eyes slipped closed like a content kitten.

“You know the best ways to shut me up.”

“Mmhmm.”

Levi: When he had told them what time the stream was going to start, they had grinned and said staying up that late wasn’t going to be a problem. They had high-fived and the human had skipped off to do whatever it was normies did during the day. When 10 o’clock rolled around, they showed up to his room practically buzzing with excitement. It had been forever since they had gotten to watch a live stream with someone!

They had been so jazzed. So why in the three Realms were they asleep?!

And more importantly, why were they asleep on his shoulder?!?!

Levi could feel himself start to hyperventilate. He barely let his brothers touch him, forget about the human! The streamer had said something that was making the chat go a mile a minute, but Levi couldn’t bring himself to concentrate on anything but the weight on his shoulder.

Swallowing heavily, he managed to gather up enough courage to actually look at the human.They were small and fragile looking when they were awake and yelling at everyone, but when they were asleep, they might as well be a figurine. Their face was relaxed, so different from the victorious grin they wore when they thrashed Mammon in a game, or the determined frown they wore when Devildom culture shock smacked them in the face and they were trying to deal with it.

The soft blue light from Henry 2.0′s aquarium rippled across their face, and Levi could feel their slow, even breaths against his collarbone. His face felt like it was on fire, and he was just about to start flailing when they made a soft noise in their sleep and snuggled in a bit closer. They were shivering.

He had watched enough romcom anime to know the proper course of action, but that didn’t cool his blush any. Sighing in defeat, he managed to sneak his arm up from where it had been resting against his side and - slowly, hesitantly, holy shit what was he doing this was a bad idea what the fu - wrapped it around their shoulders and pulled them in.

Thankfully, they stayed asleep. Slowly but surely, Levi’s heart rate slowed back down to normal as he felt them stop shaking. Maybe this wasn’t so bad?

Satan: It wasn’t often that the human lost their cool. They were probably one of the most put-together beings who ever existed. But, as Satan knew all too well, one could only take so much bullshit before they exploded.

“That sorry, sniveling, micro-dicked little cockroach!”

Satan would have praised them on that insult if he didn’t think it would piss them off more. “Who has a micro dick?”

“That guy I got paired with to do the Potions project!” they had begun pacing around the library. Satan had been in enough arguments to know where this was going, so he shut his book, crossed his legs and waited. The human didn’t disappoint.

“We agreed to meet up at the cafe to work on the project after class, since the assignment is due tomorrow and we needed to get everything put together. Not only does this bastard not show up, he has the balls to text me and ‘apologize’ for not having any of his share of the work done! So now I have to do by tomorrow!” frustrated tears gathered in the corners of their eyes, and Satan had to smother the flames of his own anger. How dare this scum make his human cry?

“Kitten,” he said, hoping the familiar pet name would soothe instead of scorn. “You’re going to wear a path in the carpet if you keep pacing like that.”

They turned to glare at him, but their fire had run out of kindling. They sighed heavily, shoulders slouching as though their anger had physically drained them. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...I stormed in here and interrupted you, didn’t I? I wan’t thinking, sorry, I’ll just...”

Before they could finish their retreat, Satan was in front of them, hands on their shoulders.

“Hey now, it’s alright.” he reached up and brushed their tears away with the backs of his knuckles. “I of all people know how it is when you’re angry, I understand.”

They sniffled pathetically. “Sorry...”

Smiling gently, Satan guided them to the couch and let them slump against him. They were settled between his legs with their head pillowed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as they calmed down. Satan’s long fingers played with their hair, twirling a strand around his finger.

“Now then, I’m going to need a name, address and photo id of this formerly-alive gentleman.”

Asmo: There was nothing quite like those few moments after a couple rounds of mind-blowing sex that had followed a carefully-crafted seduction. Asmodeus sighed in satisfaction as he relaxed against the soft pillows.

“Mm...” the human stirred beside him, and Asmo turned his head to admire his handiwork. Their hair was slick with sweat, curling along their forehead and jaw like ivy climbing up the side of a house. They were soft, pliant, practically melting into the sheets, and they had the most deliciously fucked-out expression on their face.

“Hello there, darling.” he said softly, reaching up to brush their hair out of their eyes. “How are you doing?”

Confusion flashed across their face and Asmo decided to answer their question before they asked it. “Aftercare is very important, my dear. Tell me what you need.”

Unbelievably, the human flushed and buried their head in the pillow. “...dles...”

“What was that, sweetheart?”

The human resurfaced, but couldn’t quite look him in the eye. “...Cuddles.”

Asmo scoffed affectionately. “Are you telling me that, after spending the night committing all kinds of salacious acts with me, you’re having trouble asking me for post-sex cuddles?”

Before the human could proceed with the inevitable flailing, Asmo tucked them against his chest, one leg thrown over both of theirs and a delicately manicured finger tracing over his pact mark on their hip. He felt them sigh contentedly as they settled down, and he couldn’t resist laughing as he kissed their forehead.

“I’ll have you know, post-sex cuddling is the best kind of cuddling.”

Beelzebub: It was a rare occasion that only one brother was camped out in the human’s room. Usually there were at least two monopolizing their bed. But, Mammon had a modeling gig, Levi had a raid going on, Satan had just bought a new book and couldn’t be torn away from it, Asmo had a date, and Belphie was....probably asleep somewhere that wasn’t their room. Which left them and Beel.

“What are we going to watch tonight?” Beel asked, making himself comfortable on their bed. He had brought a bowl of popcorn the size of their head, and before they even picked a movie the bowl was 3/4 of the way empty.

“Come on, Beel, I didn’t even get any!” they pouted, but there was an amused gleam in their eye. “And, to answer your question, I was thinking horror, since Mammon isn’t here to scream through it.”

By the time they finished their sentence, the popcorn had been vacuumed into Beel’s mouth. The human looked at Beel with a raised eyebrow.

“...”

“...We’re out of popcorn.”

They snorted, snatching the bowl from Beel’s hands. “I’ll go make more, you pick a movie.”

When they returned, Beel was leaning against their headboard with the movie paused on the title screen. It was some Devildom flick that the human had never heard of, but they trusted Beel.

Well, with the movie, anyway.

When he made grabby hands for the popcorn, the human turned to shield it with their body. “I don’t think so! I actually want some this time, Beelzebub. I’m holding it.”

The Avatar of Gluttony looked like they had just told him Santa wasn’t real, but the human stood firm.

“I’ll share, but I’m not letting you inhale the whole bowl.” they stuck their tongue out and plopped themselves on their bed. “Let’s start this thing.”

The movie started with a demon getting disemboweled, so they knew it was going to be good. The human was situation with the bowl rested in between their folded legs, and Beel would reach over and grab a fistful of popcorn every few seconds. But, in order to do that, he would have to rock himself forward, and as a result, spilled a fair amount of popcorn on the bed.

“This isn’t working.” Beel muttered about 20 minutes in.

“What isn’t?” they didn’t even turn away from the screen. It was just getting good!

“I keep spilling the popcorn.”

“Hm?” the human briefly glanced down to realize that they were sitting among the remains of many, many pieces of popcorn. “Oh. So you do. Sorry, Beel, I’ll move.”

The human had meant to scoot just a little closer so Beel wouldn’t have to reach so far, but apparently he had other ideas.

They squeaked a little when they went from leaning against the cool wall to something warm.

“Beel!” they exclaimed, suddenly finding themself situated snugly in Beel’s lap. “What the actual fuck?”

“This is easier.” To demonstrate, he reached into the bowl that was still cushioned in their lap, plucked out a fistful of popcorn, and took a bite. “See? No spilling. And you’re still holding the bowl.”

They felt like their face was going to explode from the force of their blush.

“Is this okay?” Beel asked, apparently belatedly realizing what he had just done might be considered inappropriate.

“...Yeah, it’s okay. You have a comfy lap.”

Beel smiled. “Good. I like having you close like this.��

“Shut up, I’m watching the movie.”

Belphegor: It was hard to keep your circadian rhythm going when there was no sun. This was the third night in a row that the human found themselves unable to sleep, and they were getting sick of sitting in their room playing on their D.D.D. So, even though they knew Lucifer would use their skin to decorate his office if he found them, they tip-toed out of their room and began wandering the halls in search for...something.

Eventually, they found themselves in the planetarium. Honestly, they didn’t know what they would do up there, but it beat sitting around in the darkness waiting for their body to shut down from sheer exhaustion.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

They nearly jumped out of their skin. “Belphie!”

Belphegor was draped languidly over one of the couches, cow-print pillow hugged to his chest as he blinked sleepily at them. “What are you doing up?”

They shrugged. “Trouble sleeping.”

“Is that right?” Belphie hummed, sitting up. “You’re lucky you found me, then.”

“Why is that?” the human asked, tilting their head. Belphegor chuckled softly.

“I’m the Avatar of Sloth. If anyone can cure insomnia, it’s me.” he leaned back against the arm of the couch and opened his arms. “Come on, I won’t hurt you.”

He kept his voice nonchalant, but they felt him push his sincerity through their bond. He was still so cautious around them. Probably always would be.

Taking a deep breath, the human stepped forward into Belphie’s waiting arms. Honestly, the demon was a little shocked that the human had accepted. A slap to the face would have been his first reaction if the tables were turned.

He curled his arms around their shoulders and cupped the back of their head, gently guiding them to the crook of his neck. They squirmed, trying to get comfortable.

“Hush,” Belphie muttered, voice low and soothing. “I’m going to use magic, okay?”

He felt them nod, already drifting a little bit. Belphie took a deep breath, threading his fingers through their hair. He didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve their trust and affection. But he was going to take it anyway.

The magic laced itself through his voice as he sang. It was an old lullaby that Lucifer used to sing to him and Beel when they were fussy children, but the human didn’t need to know that. Almost immediately, they stopped wiggling and settled heavily against him. By the time the lullaby was finished, they were asleep, breath fanning deep and even across his collarbone.

Belphegor leaned down and nuzzled into their hair. “Goodnight. Sweet dreams.”

#yes hello I need affection #and cuddles #lots of cuddles #obey me #shall we date obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor

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snelbz · 4 years ago

Text

The Ranch {15}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @snelbz x @tacmc

Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

Opening day had arrived and Nesta was caught somewhere between puking and a heart attack. She hadn’t slept at all, but she wasn’t tired in the least. Cassian, however, had snored the night away beside her, not caring what day it was. She envied his ability to sleep through chaos.

Although it probably wasn’t chaotic for him.

He didn’t stress about much.

She envied him for that, too.

It was just after five a.m. when Nesta hauled herself out of bed. She did yoga, a simple workout that had been approved by her doctor, then drank a glass of water and a glass of freshly squeezed lemonade.

It was all she wanted, lately.

Lemonade.

Freshly squeezed.

After letting Beau back in the house, she checked the clock, once more. It was nearing nine, and Elain would be showing up, soon, with a haul of bouquets to decorate throughout the main house.

Nesta and Cassian were still staying in the master bedroom. It was easiest as she prepared for the opening, and Nesta was starting to think that it was best, overall. His cabin was small, and so was the house that she occupied on the land. She wasn’t certain how she would feel once guests began checking in, but for now, the master bedroom of the main house had been treating them well.

Nesta planned to dress in a modest sundress and sandals, laying it out to wear, and all the while, Cassian stayed sleeping soundly, Beau snoring once again at his feet.

She didn’t bother to wake him, not yet.

The celebration didn’t begin until one.

As she stood in their bathroom, she pulled the measuring tape around her stomach, which was still flat as could be. She held the tape up, her thumb indicating where the end of the tape had lined up with the tick marks and looked at it.

She had gone down. By four millimeters.

She groaned, sitting down on the edge of the porcelain, and rubbed her fingers into her temples. So far this baby had made her vomit constantly, she hadn’t woken up without a headache in over a week, and she had probably consumed enough lemonade to ensure she’d never need to take a vitamin C supplement again.

And she had nothing to show for it.

Save for her massive, heavy tits.

Cassian had noticed, which, honestly, wasn’t saying much.

She sighed and stepped into the dress, pulling it up and reaching behind to zip it, which wasn’t a problem, until she reached her back.

It wouldn’t zip.

The fucking dress wouldn’t fit over her breasts.

She groaned, staring at herself in the mirror, the dress remaining unzipped.

“Come on,” she said, cursing, trying again at the zipper.

It wouldn’t budge.

“Shit,” she muttered. “Cassian!”

Nothing.

The man slept like a brick.

So, she tried again, louder. “CASS!”

“Hmm? What?” his sleepy words came from the bedroom, and she instantly felt guilty for waking him, but she needed help.

“I need you,” she said, turning around to show the half-zipped back of the dress in the mirror.

A minute later, a bare-chested, sleepy-eyed Cassian padded into the bathroom. He took one look at her and raised a brow. “You look nice.”

“My dress won’t zip,” she snapped.

“It’s your tits,” Cassian mumbled, and Nesta’s lips formed a tight line.

“Yeah, I know,” she snapped. “Help me, please.”

With a sigh, Cassian came up behind her and tugged on the zipper. It moved maybe half an inch, but not anymore than that. “Babe, it’s not going to zip.”

“Well, try harder!” she scolded.

He sighed again, knowing better than anyone not to argue with a pregnant woman, but more specifically not this pregnant woman.

He pulled and pulled and pulled, until he knew it wasn’t going to budge and he looked at her in the mirror. He gently rested his hands on her shoulders and said, “If I zip this dress up, you won’t be able to breathe, and if you do, these gorgeous, amazing, huge breasts are going to make a special guest appearance for our first guests.” He reached around from behind and palmed them through her dress, hoping to at least make her smile.

The scowl she was giving him through the mirror could have frozen Hell itself.

Cassian quickly dropped his hands. “Do you have another dress you can wear?”

“No,” she snapped. “I have very few, appropriate dresses and they’re all this size, in this cut.”

She tugged on the zipper another few times, but there was nothing.

“Fuck!” she cried.

Cassian frowned, trying to pull her into him for a hug, but she wouldn’t let him.

“I need a dress,” she said, hurrying from the room. “I need something.”

“Hello?” Elain’s voice traveled through the house from downstairs.

Cassian let out a breath. “Thank the gods.”

Nesta shot him a look, but he only held his good arm up in surrender.

“Up here!” Nesta growled, frustration still lacing her tone.

Elain was in the doorway a moment later, eyeing Nesta, then a disheveled Cassian. “Something looks off. There’s a situation happening here, isn’t there?”

“My dress won’t zip,” Nesta snapped.

“It’s her tits,” Cassian supplied.

Elain cleared her throat. “Well, let me take a look.”

She walked up behind Nesta and tried the zipper, but it still wouldn’t budge. After digging her phone out of her pocket, she said, “We have a few hours yet. How about I take you into town a minute to find something new?”

“There’s no time! I still have so much to do and I haven’t even started baking and-.” Nesta began to hyperventilate, something she’d never done in her life, but thanks to these damn hormones, something that was triggered nearly every time she cried.

Cassian was there in an instant, his hands framing her face. “Sweetheart, breathe. It’s okay. I can handle everything, except the baking. Go with Elain, pick up a dress that will accommodate your growing...assets, and come back and everything will be ready for you.”

Nesta nodded, wiping away the few tears that had slipped out. She mumbled, “They’re not assets.”

Cassian looked like he wanted to protest, but didn’t. “Go. I will finish the last minute details. When you come back, all you’ll have to do is bake, and I’ll be there to help you with that, too.”

“I do like ordering you around,” she muttered.

“Exactly,” he grinned. “Alright? Go with Elain. I’ve got this.”

She nodded, hesitantly, but didn’t complain. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he breathed, then looked to Elain, thanks in his eyes.

He gave Nesta a slow, soft kiss before she left with her sister, quietly, in her shorts and tank top. Elain helped her into the passenger side of her car, even though Nesta didn’t need help. It was her sister’s way, though, with her gentle spirit.

They drove into town, mostly in silence. She was grateful for her sister, for her gentleness, her caring-ness, her kindness, but she had nothing to say. All Nesta could think about was what Cassian was getting done in her absence.

Elain parked downtown, on the main strip, just next to a little boutique they used to shop at all the time in high school. She followed her sister in and looked at a wall full of sundresses.

“Alright,” Elain said, clapping her hands together. “What are you thinking?”

“Literally anything that fits,” Nesta mumbled.

“Well,” Elain began, picking up a pink floral number that Nesta prayed was for herself and not her. “What size have you been? You don’t exactly need to jump straight into maternity clothes. So we’ll either need to pick a size up or find a more...forgiving fabric.”

Nesta glared at Elain over her choice of words, but she began to flip through the dresses. “I wear a four, so I guess I should look at sixes?” She held a dress up, but the lime green fabric nearly hurt her eyes.

“Or a stretchier four,” Elain reminded her. “How about this?”

She held up a pale yellow dress with a grey pattern stitched in. Nesta made a face of indifference. “Don’t know if yellow is a good color for me.”

Elain nodded. “That’s fair. Yellow isn’t a good color on anybody.”

Nesta chuckled and the two of them set to searching, each finding a few dresses Nesta didn’t absolutely despise.

She tried them on, but refused to show Elain any of them, no matter how much her younger sister protested. At last, she settled on a pale blue dress, reaching just above her knees. The spaghetti straps were decent in holding up the fabric that mostly covered her breasts. She changed into the clothes she had arrived in, claiming it was the one. After paying for it, she dragged Elain from the shop, ordering her sister to take her home.

Elain didn’t argue. She wasn’t one to argue, anyway, but Nesta assumed it was mostly because of her current attitude. Nesta couldn’t apologize, though. She was too pregnant to care about her sister’s wishes, as awful as it sounded.

When Elain was pregnant with Azriel’s spawn, Nesta would react the same.

True to his word, Cassian, with his good arm, was displaying Elain’s bouquets around the house, on every table and shelf. He had also vacuumed and dusted, once more, for good measure. He’d even gotten the things he thought she was most likely to need out on the kitchen island for her, although those things only consisted of sugar and flour.

Elain had made herself scarce, going to find Azriel and promising she’d be back to help as soon as Nesta needed her, and Nesta made her way upstairs, dress bag in hand. She heard the shower running and made her way into their room. The white dress she intended to wear - the one she’d specifically bought for this occasion - was still on the bed where she’d thrown it on her way out. It was next to Cassian’s sling.

She sighed and re-hung it on the plastic hanger and knocked on the bathroom door. Cassian’s muffled reply sounded and she let herself in.

He called over the water, “You find a dress, baby?”

She entered her closet and hung them both up, deciding not to wear the blue dress until after she’d finished baking. “Yeah. But I don’t like it as much as I liked my white one.”

“I’m sure you’re going to look as beautiful as you always do.”

Nesta smiled toward the shower, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. Well, not in-depth, anyways. The frosted glass allowed Cassian to see out just as much as it allowed Nesta to see in. And all she could see was a vast expanse of tan, naked, wet skin.

Gods it has been so long since they’d had sex.

Three more days and Cassian would be off of light-duty, as they’d jokingly started calling it. To the doctors, it meant Cassian was allowed to stop wearing the sling and was allowed to return to work, as long as he continued to have Az do the literal heavy lifting. But to the two of them, it meant the end of a nearly three-week-long dry spell. Longer than they’d had to go since they’d gotten together.

She nibbled on her bottom lip as she said, “Thank you for prepping for the opening.”

“Of course,” he replied, above the water. “Anything I can do to help. It’s nice to feel useful.”

She leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom to say, “The band should be arriving any minute now to set up. I could use a shower, so hurry up.”

“You could use a shower?” Cassian asked, pretending to be oblivious. “Were you inviting yourself? There’s room for two.”

“Three more days,” she warned.

“I can’t even see you naked?” he laughed, his heavy feet turning atop the tile.

Nesta sighed. Of course, he could, but the temptation that came along with such had her toes curling. “Hurry up, Nazari.”

“Join me, Archeron,” he argued. Then, he added, “I promise to be nice.”

Nesta hesitated, but sighed and stripped off her clothes, quickly wiping the remnants of her tear stained makeup off. She tossed two towels on the vanity by the shower, knowing he hadn’t remembered to grab one for himself, and pulled open the door.

The warm steam enveloped her as she stepped in and was face to face with his, well, back. She reached up and traced the ink that swept from his left shoulder blade down the outside edge of his spine. The shiver that went through him had nothing to do with the cool blast of air she’d let in when she’d stepped in, but before he could turn, she’d wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him from behind.

“Do you think people are going to like it?” Her cheek was pressed to his warm back. The question was quiet, barely audible over the water pattering on the tile.

“Like what?” He asked, after a moment.

“All of it,” she breathed. “My dress, my cooking, the opening. The B&B itself.”

He took a moment to respond before turning to meet her, his hazel eyes lit with surprise. His brows were scrunched together as he answered, “Of course they are. Nes, you have worked so fucking hard and you should be so proud at what you’ve accomplished. I know I am.”

She smiled, seeing the truth of his words in his eyes and leaned up to kiss him, pulling back when she was poked in the stomach. “Seriously?”

“It’s been a long few weeks,” he laughed, pulling her against him regardless. He kissed her, his lips still brushing hers. “He’s missed you.”

She laughed, “Oh, it’s him, is it?”

“Yes, him,” Cassian laughed. “I love you, but his obsession with you is an entirely different thing. He’s missed you. Give him some love.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Three more days.”

Cassian groaned, his head falling back. “If you tell me that one more time, I’m going to lose my shit.”

“I believe your shit is already lost,” she mumbled, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Just a quickie,” he whispered.

Nesta snorted. “No.”

“Please?” He asked, kissing her forehead, her nose.

“No,” she laughed.

“You have no idea how badly I need to be inside you.” He began to kiss her neck, her shoulder, and she let him, loving the feeling on her skin. “Let me make you feel good, baby. It will help make today easier, I promise.”

His mouth continued his assault on her neck while his hand traveled south, stopping to tug on a peaked nipple, which had Nesta whimpering softly. It continued to move down until it was over her stomach, fingers spread out. “I am so proud of you, sweetheart. You told me you were going to do this the very first day you came back and you did it. I love you so much.” He crouched, the spray of the water on his back, pressing a kiss to Nesta’s stomach. “And I love you. More than I can begin to explain. I can’t wait to meet you.”

Nesta was tearing up again, watching the man before her, this powerful man that put his life on the line for his best friend, for her, talking to their baby.

A knock came at the door. “Uh, Nes! The band is here…”

Cassian was back on his feet as Nesta called, “Be right out!”

“No she won’t!” Cassian followed.

Nesta laughed, rolling her eyes. “You’re going to make Elain uncomfortable.”

“What?” Cassian asked. “She knows I knocked you up, but us showering together is taboo? Yeah, okay.”

Nesta blinked. “Did you just say taboo?”

Cassian was peeking his face out of the glass, as if it helped amplify his voice. “She’ll be right out!”

He wrapped his arms around her one more time, even though he knew their time was short. “Hey,” he whispered, getting her to look up at him. “You’re going to kick ass today. I love you.”

She smiled up at him and rose up on her toes, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I love you, too.”

And he had no doubt. She would.

Twenty minutes later, Nesta was hurrying downstairs, t shirt and shorts on, hair dried but not yet styled, nor was her makeup done, and met Elain talking with the band in the living room.

“Hey, Lucien,” Nesta said, in a rush. “I’m so sorry. Times just gotten away from me today.”

Lucien grinned, and shrugged. “It’s all good. Elain’s organizational skills are coming in handy.”

Nesta winked at her sister. “Good.”

“I heard the news, by the way,” Lucien went on, nodding to Nesta’s stomach. “Congrats.”

Nesta’s smile softened. “Thank you.”

Elain cleared her throat. “So I was thinking we could set the band up over by the new stables. That’s where we’re serving the food, right?” A nod from Nesta while Lucien listened to his best friend’s instructions. “The vendor tables are going to be all along the west pasture edge and…” She looked down at her watch. “The bounce house will be here at twelve-thirty.”

“Great.” Nesta took a deep breath and was thinking through what all she had left to do.

Cassian’s heavy boots came thudding down the stairs, and he appeared around the corner. “Hey, Luce.” He shook his hand. “How’s that shit bag friend of yours that shot me doing?”

Lucien cringed. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t spoken to him since he was sentenced.”

It had been an emotional day to say the least. They had all been asked to testify, and only Feyre and Nesta had declined. Nesta wasn’t sure her nerves could handle it, didn’t want her baby being flooded with those kinds of endorphins. Feyre told their lawyer she lacked the ability to be subjective.

As one of the intended targets, Rhys would have spoken regardless, but since he had been the one to keep Cassian breathing until they’d gotten him to surgery, his testimony was damning. As were Elain and Azriel’s, though Elain was more of a witness than any direct involvement. Azriel had had to retrace his steps, once in person and once over a map of the property. But all Cassian had to do was answer simple questions. His body, the trauma he’d gone through was evidence enough.

Cassian nodded, opening his mouth to speak, but Nesta cut him off. “Where’s your sling?”

“Come on, Nes, it’s a family fun festival,” he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “We’re a family, we’re gonna have fun, and I’m not doing anything today that requires my sling.”

“Put it on,” Nesta said, turning to go back upstairs and finish getting ready. “Or you’ll regret it. Elain, you got this?”

She gave Nesta a glowing smile and a thumbs up. She lived for party planning and when Nesta had tried to talk a price for helping, Elain had told her she was offended and to not bring it up again.

After walking back into the master bedroom, Nesta padded into the bathroom and started on her makeup. When she was pleased, she stripped off her tee and shorts and pulled on the pale, blue sundress. Outside the windows, she could hear vendors arriving and scurrying about.

Her nerves were going haywire.

It didn’t help that Cassian had yet to come get his sling. Not only did Nesta have to worry about everything else, but she had to worry about him, too.

Nesta slipped on her sandals and unlocked the velvet box on the dresser, where she took out the necklace he had gotten for her. Standing in front of the mirror, she clasped it around her neck.

After grabbing Cassian’s sling off the bed, she was hurrying back downstairs.

She rushed into the kitchen after finding Cassian talking with Rhys, throwing the sling to him and hitting him directly in the face with the wadded up fabric. She tied an apron around her waist and began to whip up the batches she needed for the macaroons she was making.

After about twenty minutes, Feyre rushed in the backdoor. “Sorry, I know I’m late, I’m here!” She set her bags down and hugged Nesta. “I’m so happy for you.” She pulled away abruptly. “Are your tits…bigger?”

She sighed. “Does no one else know what happens to the female body during pregnancy?”

“I’ve learned, recently, first hand,” Cassian said, mouth full of baked goods. He had claimed he was helping Nesta, but he was doing no such thing.

Feyre shot Cassian a bemused look. “What kind of sex life could you two possibly be having right now-.”

“Feyre,” Nesta snapped.

“She’s right, no physical activity,” Rhysand muttered, his mouth also full of Nesta’s baking.

Nesta was rolling her eyes. “Feyre, can you take these two assholes and give them a job to do?”

“Damn,” Rhysand said, just as Cassian muttered, “Watch your language.”

This only earned them both a death stare.

They were instantly on their feet, following Feyre out of the back door.

Nesta sighed, thankful to her sister for giving her the small moment of peace and quiet in what she was expecting to be one of her busiest days yet. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and memorizing the scents around her: the warm, sweet smell of the baking macaroons; the rich, woodsy scent of her childhood home; the earthy scent of the rolling pastures. But there were also subtler smells around her, that were harder to pick up on, but just as important, like the unpleasant, but honestly, not that horrible once you get used to it manure; the hint of bleach and lemon from where she’d spent hours cleaning the kitchen yesterday; the heady pepper and spice scent of the love of her life.

Nesta tried to stop the quiet sob that left her mouth, but her hormones were so crazy. She was just so overwhelmed by where her life was, how happy she was in Velaris when she never thought she could be. She was having the baby she never thought she would with a man she never could have imagined.

And now she was carrying on her father's legacy, his dream. She looked out the window, watched as the flurry of people set up for the celebration that the whole town was invited to.

A celebration for her father, for his dream, for the rebirth of something Nesta once had no interest in, but now put her everything into.

The thoughts running through her mind had her eyes growing misty, but not with tears of sadness, only joy.

After finishing up in the kitchen, Nesta walked out into the backyard, where everything seemed to have been already set up. There were lawn games spread out, the band set up by the stables in the distance, tables laid out where the caterers were setting up the food.

People would be arriving any minute.

“Excuse me, miss?”

Nesta turned to find a woman with a kind, familiar face approaching her. “Hi, welcome to Belles & Blossoms.”

She smiled fondly. “You don’t recognize me.”

Nesta blinked a few times. “Alis? Oh my, goodness! Hi!”

She embraced the sweet woman who’d taken an interest in a surly teenager in a diner, taught her to love cooking, and all manners of it, not just French gourmet.

“I heard you were back and reopening the B&B,” Alis smiled. “We will have to catch up some time so you can tell me all about your adventures.”

“I’d love that,” Nesta agreed. “I went by the diner a few months ago, but you weren’t working.”

“Well, I’m glad I hunted you down,” she chuckled. “Are your sisters here?”

“Somewhere,” Nesta said, looking around. All she could see was Cassian standing by the beer table, helping himself. When he caught her eye, he waved.

He still wasn’t wearing his damn sling.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Alis,” Nesta said, chuckling softly. “The resident thorn in my side is poking me.”

“Cassian Nazari is a nice boy, Nesta,” she said. “He’s been sweet on you for quite some time.”

She spun, looking at her quasi therapist, surprise on her face. “What?”

Alis laughed. “You always had your nose in a book, you never stopped to notice when someone was noticing you. Even all those years ago.”

She winked and headed towards the house, blending with the small crowd that had begun to accumulate. Nesta stared after her, blinking.

“You look lost.”

Nesta jumped, having been lost in her own thoughts, indeed. Cassian was standing behind her, watching her, thoughtfully, a plastic cup filled with beer in his hand.

Nesta’s look of surprise turned into one of frustration. Her eyes narrowed. “Where is your sling?”

Cassian blinked. “I don’t understand the question.”

“Cassian,” Nesta groaned, but he was only laughing.

“I’m fine, alright?” He held up his cup as proof. “Took my pain meds, got my alcohol, even Rhys says it's fine. I promise to put it on as soon as all these people leave.”

Nesta’s lips formed a straight line. “You’re trying to uphold your tough guy image, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “Absolutely, yes. Yes, I am.”

She pursed her lips, trying to keep the smile from forming, but Cassian saw the side of her mouth twitch. He saw the sparkle in her eyes that only came out for him. He wrapped her in both of his arms, holding her tightly and kissed her forehead.

She gazed up at him and smirked, “So what you’re saying is I shouldn’t tell them all how you cried during the end of Eight Seconds?”

His tone was one hundred percent genuine when he said, “He was riding for Lane, Nesta. Even you were tearing up.”

She laughed and leaned up on her toes, kissing him. “Or that you tear up when you tell me stories of what you want to do with our baby? Or when you talk to our baby? Or when you do anything that has to do with our baby?” She was laughing by the end, but silent happy tears were streaming down her own face.

Cassian watched her, absolutely adoring everything about the woman in his arms. He hugged her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and said, “Okay, you emotional basket case. Let’s go find you some lemonade.”

“I really like lemonade,” she whispered.

She was convinced it was her one true love, as of lately.

Cassian grinned. “I know, sweetheart.”

The entire town began to gather as they walked about the grounds, Nesta sipping on her lemonade as she greeted her guests. She was surprised by the turn out. She had hoped this many people would show up, but to actually watch it unfolding was miraculous.

Cassian was his usually charming self and, true to his word, he seemed to know everyone.

“How are you feeling?” Mor asked, when they’d joined her on the porch. Her plate was piled high with Nesta’s macarons, as well as the barbecue they’d had catered for the event. How she managed to stay so fit but eat as much as she did was a mystery to everyone.

“I’m okay,” Nesta smiled. “The morning sickness is the worst part, not that I can even call it morning sickness. It happens at all hours of the day, with no warning.”

Feyre crinkled her nose. “Between that and your unintentional boob job, I’m beginning to think adoption may be a good fit for me.”

She laughed but Rhysand shook his head. “You told me last night you can’t wait to start having kids.”

She glared at him. “I said start trying to have kids.”

He chuckled. “My mistake.” He kissed the top of her head and headed to meet Az and Cass at the food table, which had apparently become a beer pong table.

Mor asked, “But aside from that, the pregnancy is...normal?”

Nesta laughed. Their friends had all had questions about it, whether or not she needed to take it easy for the next six months. They’d had questions about it, but at her doctor’s appointment the week before, he’d told her to follow the same precautions as a normal, expected pregnancy. It wasn’t staying pregnant that was a problem for Nesta’s body, it was getting pregnant.

She started to reply, but a deep voice behind her asked, “You’re pregnant?”

She turned and found Tomas and a friend on the porch steps. She looked around frantically, trying to locate Cassian in the crowd, or Rhys, Azriel, anyone that was Tomas fucking Mandray. They weren’t at the stables, not with the food. Her phone wasn’t on her. Mor didn’t know Tomas and Feyre and Elain didn’t know how truly deeply her fear of the man ran.

But Nesta nodded before turning her back to him, hoping he’d go away.

He didn’t. “Congrats.”

To anyone else, it would sound genuine, but when Nesta looked back over her shoulder, she saw the gleam in his eye, that familiar gleam, one she loathed with every ounce of her being.

He was pissed.

Years later, and he still thought he had some sort of claim on her.

“Thanks,” she gritted out, through clenched teeth.

“Where’s the dad?” Tomas went on. “Have to congratulate him, too.”

Mor opened her mouth to answer, but Nesta was already saying, “Don't know.”

Tomas nodded, Elain shooting a worried glance at Nesta.

“Well, hopefully I run into him before the days done,” Tomas said, then winked, before walking away.

Nesta’s blood ran cold.

Elain places a gentle hand on Nesta’s knee. “Are you-.”

“I’m going to be sick,” she said, shooting to her feet and heading for the house. She knew her nausea had nothing to do with the child growing inside of her and instead to do with the man that couldn’t accept that she no longer belonged to him and never would again.

She threw herself up the stairs, where no one was, and fell into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She was on her knees, her skin hitting the tile with such a force that she cried out as she hurled the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

She knew she was crying, knew her makeup was running, and it only grew worse as she thought, I have to get to Cassian.

What if Tomas did find him? Surely he wouldn’t congratulate him, surely he would have other things in mind.

And Cassian was in no condition to hold up his end of a fight.

But a soft knock came to the door.

“Nes?”

Cassian. His deep, calming voice floated through the door.

She tried to speak, but instead, another round of heaving hit her and Cassian tried the knob. “Sweetheart, the door is locked. Are you okay?”

She heard muffled voices from the other side of the door, barely registering that one was female. She tried to say something, anything, but it was as if her voice wouldn’t work. She climbed to her feet on wobbly legs and unlocked the door.

Cassian opened it, finding her with puffy, red eyes, streaks of mascara running down her face, and bruised knees where she’d dropped to the tile.

His gaze fell, heartbreak filling his eyes as he shut the door softly behind him.

“Elain found me, said something happened with Tomas.” His voice was soft, both of his hands cradling her face. Concern lacing his tone.

They had talked about Tomas before, but very little. Enough that he knew what had happened between them, knew the hatred and fear that Nesta felt when it came to her ex.

When Nesta didn’t answer, Cassian pulled her into his chest and held her tightly, closely.

“I hate him,” she whispered.

“I know,” Cassian breathed, rubbing slow circles on her back.

“My face is ruined,” she said, and when she looked at his shirt and saw the mascara stain on it, her frown deepened.

“Makeup can be re-done, shirts can be washed. Not a big deal.” He kissed the top of her head and stooped to pull a makeup wipe out from under the cabinet. He handed it to her and pulled the shirt over his head, wincing slightly as he raised his left arm. Nesta’s eyes were concerned when he looked back at her. “I’m fine, I promise. Just sore. See?”

He went through the motions of the physical therapy Rhys had shown him and Nesta silently watched. The only reason she wasn’t making him put the sling back on is because Rhysand had said it was healing well and he could use the movement to keep it from getting stiff. She sighed and nodded, trying to salvage what she could of her makeup, while Cass leaned on the door frame, watching her. Still shirtless.

Nesta tried not to look at the puckered scar forming on his chest, even if he didn’t seem to have a problem messing with the tender spot.

“It’s all going to be okay,” he whispered, watching her with his arms crossed. They were the same words he had muttered a million times since he’d been shot.

Nesta just nodded, not quite believing them, not quite wanting to protest, either. She dropped the wipe in the wastebasket and met her reflection.

Good enough.

“Perfect,” Cassian said, his voice still low.

Nesta closed her eyes and took a deep breath before meeting his stare. “Okay.”

“Ready?” He asked, holding out his hand.

“I’ll go get you a shirt,” she said, in answer.

Cassian grinned. “What? I can’t go out like this?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ll start a riot.”

He strolled into his closet and came back out in one of his old faded t-shirts he loved so much. She wanted him dressed a little more nicely, but she decided it didn’t matter what he was wearing. This was their home. Why put on an air that they were anyone but who they really were.

He took her hand, but when he headed for the door, she hesitated, tugging him back lightly. He looked at her.

Her bottom lip was between her teeth. It was a habit he didn’t even think she realized she had, but he knew she was truly worried when that full lip was caught in her teeth. He gently used his thumb to free it and leaned down to press his own lips to hers.

He asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Tomas said he… He wanted to congratulate you, on our pregnancy.” The words were small. Scared.

“Congratulate me?” Cass asked. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she said, taking a breath. The words began to flow out of her in a whoosh of air. “And that’s why it worries me. I don’t know what he wants to do to you, but you’re in no condition to fight, but I also really would prefer not to make a scene at our own grand opening, and-.”

“Nes, baby, breathe.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Breathe, sweetheart.” She did as she was told, tamping the hyperventilation down. “Do you really think Azriel and Rhys would let anything happen today? Or anything happen to me?”

She shook her head.

“Stop worrying,” he said, that little smile plastered on his lips. “If it helps, I’ll stay right close by until everyone leaves. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said, smoothing out her dress even though there were no wrinkles. She knew she was overreacting, but she couldn’t help it.

Not today.

It was all too much.

“Do you want to order pizza for dinner?”

Her head snapped up. A night to not cook, a night to eat greasy, cheesy food and just relax? “Please.” Then she added, “And can we watch a bad movie?”

He held her hand as they headed back downstairs and into the crowd. “The worst movie we can find.”

The rest of the afternoon had gone well. They hadn’t seen Tomas again, but Nesta kept Cassian within view until everyone left.

He knew she worried about him, and he didn’t want to cause her anymore stress. She had enough on her plate.

Which is why Cassian was walking up the stairs of the little house, a box of pizza, a giant bottle of lemonade, and a twelve pack of beer in his arms. Since it was the first night of guests in the B&B, they would be spending their more private evenings in one of the little houses. Maggie would be on site from nine in the morning until five in the afternoons, Wednesday through Sunday. The guests all had the emergency number Cassian and Nesta had set up. Everything was going smoothly and he’d even stopped in to check on the guests on his way back to the house.

Tonight, Nesta needed to de-stress.

And Cassian had a few ideas on how to make that happen, starting with junk food and her requested “bad movie”.

The first step of that was already in motion. Nesta had been soaking in the clawfoot tub with a book for the past forty-five minutes while he picked up their dinner.

Beau poked his head out through the newly installed doggy door, not quite used to the weird way he’d been getting in and out of his houses. He gave a short yelp of greeting and Cass tried to get him to come through the flapping door, but after a solid forty seconds of nothing, he gave up and opened the door.

He found Nesta in the kitchen, at the stove and he set the pizza box down on the counter. “I thought you didn’t want to cook.”

“I don’t,” she sighed. “I can’t stop thinking about the smell of mirepoix, even if I don’t have a dish to put it in.”

Cassian walked to the fridge, putting the lemonade and beer in, grabbing one for himself before shutting the door. He looked into the pan. “Onions, carrots, and celery?”

She nodded, taking a deep breath. “And butter and garlic.”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

Her wet hair was bundled on top of her head. Her face was bare, not a stitch of makeup on, and she was wearing one of his old rodeo t-shirts.

He turned her face towards him and softly pressed his lips to hers. “Gods, you are so beautiful.”

Her eyes narrowed but she could stop her small smile. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” Cassian asked, cracking open his can.

“Complimenting me,” she said, simply, taking the giant bottle of lemonade he’d gotten and pressing it straight to her lips.

“No glass?” Cassian asked, amused.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Why would I waste time with a glass?”

He couldn’t argue with that logic.

He gestured to the pan on the stove. “Do you want to put that on top of your pizza?”

She scrunched her nose. “No, the smell was enough. I’m ready to eat my pizza though.” She was eyeballing the box and Cassian laughed.

She started to clean up the kitchen and he put the pizza in her hands and said, “Go. Sit. Eat. I’ll handle this.”

Nesta smiled and did exactly that, while Cass put the cooked vegetables in a bowl to cool down. Looks like Beau was going to be getting a good meal tonight.

Eventually, Cassian finished up with the kitchen and joined Nesta on the couch. After a fierce debate about what exactly fits the parameters of being a “bad movie” and genuine offense from Cassian when Nesta picked one of his favorite childhood movies, they finally agreed on a cheesy romantic comedy and Nesta was asleep on Cassian’s chest almost immediately. He turned the tv down and changed it to roping highlights, scrolling through his phone. His good arm was still around her, but he was able to do what he needed with his left arm.

After about an hour, even he was tired from the day’s festivities. When his eyelids slid shut of their own accord for the third time, he knew it was time to move to the bed.

“Nes,” he whispered, peppering her brow with soft kisses. “Wake up.”

She stirred, but whimpered, forehead creasing as she frowned in her sleep.

“Nesta, wake up, sweetheart.” He gently shook her.

She gasped, eyes wide. “Where is he?”

He framed her frantic face with his hands. “He’s not here, baby. It was a bad dream.”

She was still breathing hectically, eyes searching everywhere, from shadows in the corners to the hallway behind them. “Bad dream?”

“Just a bad dream.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Come on, let’s go to-.”

The sound of glass shattering filled the small house and Nesta screamed. Cassian immediately pulled her into himself and covered her body with his.

Beau was barking, but the shattering had stopped. And once Beau realized they weren’t under attack, he quieted down, too, going to sniff at the middle of the room.

The silence was disconcerting. Nesta was quietly crying into Cassian’s chest and he unwound her fingers from in his shirt. He stood, following Beau to where he sniffed. He was careful not to step on the glass, picked Beau up before he could do the same, and herded a shaking Nesta into the bedroom. He calmed her down before coming back out and inspecting the item that had shattered not only serenity of their night, but also their front window.

A brick, with one, solitary word scrawled in baby blue paint:

Congratulations.

#the ranch nessian #theranchnessian #shara collab #sharacollab #snacmc #tacmc snelbz collab #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

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soulwillower · 4 years ago

Text

buttercup • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

requested: Would you mind writing a Richie Tozier X reader soulmate AU where Richie is VERY self conscious and he finds out that the reader is his soulmate and the reader is well known and very pretty, so he’s just like djjdjfgjjcbvnfnf but once they actually meet she really likes him? :0 thanks if you consider!

warning: swearing, angst, richie being edgy and also a bit unstable (king shit), neuroatypical richie!!!, fluff, soulmate au!! <33 also sorry this may be rough, i havent edited it at all

[reader + losers are in college]

lmk what u guys think of this one,... idk LOL

4.1k words

♡

richie was about to be sick. yes, he really, really was going to vomit in approximately ten seconds and he didn’t know what he was going to do. the room, full of barely-adults chugging jungle juice was sweaty and bustling and the walls were closing in on him quick. those people who weren't in the main rooms were doing sniff in the bathrooms and blocking his pathway to heaven (the toilet) so he quickly stumbles towards the sliding-glass door.

he passes a guy who claps his shoulder and says in a deep voice, "you good, bro?"

no, no. he's not good, bro. thanks for asking, though.

as he finally breaks free of the plastic, out of the crusty balloon that was holding his body hostage, he takes a deep breath and sprawls himself on the back deck, staring up at the clouds in the nighttime sky. maybe he should go home and mull this over, before he crams it down his own throat and chokes to death, alone and broken on the back deck of a 22 year old business major's rental house.

he laughs to himself - an image which he's sure would be a full on maniacal scene to an onlooker - as he lights a cigarette with very shaky fingers. even if he chooses to give this situation some thought, he will end up being forced regardless because this is, quite literally, richard tozier's destiny.

y/n y/l/n is richie's destiny, and it makes him feel like complete shit.

you see - his whole life, richie knew about the fucking soulmate tattoos. of course he did, everybody did - it was, like, one of the first things you learn, ever. he knows that there's basically a soulmate for every person and often times the soulmate marks were different, the ways of finding your soulmate were wide and far.

for most of richie's life - actually, almost all of it up until the last month - he'd had a big, fat 0 tattooed on his arm and below it a humiliating phrase that was quite the epitome of richie himself.

yet it never changed, which led him, his friends, and his parents to determine that he'd gotten a time-counter soulmate mark, which he likes to pride himself on believing he did not give a single fuck about.

the number is supposed to count the amount of time that you've spent with your soulmate, and there's usually a sentence or phrase that's associated with your soulmate's first thoughts of you below it. and yeah, of course the first thing the lucky guy or gal thought of richie is 'wow, those are the ugliest socks ever.' pretty fucking on-brand, if richie says so himself.

so yeah, he never really paid attention to his soulmate mark - partly because the thought of emotionally opening up to someone enough for them to know his whole and true self was repulsive and terrifying enough to make him physically ill, enough for him to develop a crazy sense of humor as a less-than proficient coping mechanism for the insecurity and fear that lives in his mind rent-free, 24/7 365. but mostly he didn't pay attention to the mark because, you know, he thought it was lame.

that is, until it changed from the 0.

it happened on the first day of classes fall semester of this, his freshman year of college.

which, honestly, was a huge fucking bummer, because he literally came into contact with almost 800 new people that first day through classes, dorms, walking around campus, and the dining hall. and yet, as he got back to his dorm and smoked a bowl with bill, he'd noticed that his arm had said 00:51:26.

bill had been so excited he'd almost lifted richie through the roof, because 'holy sh-shit, rich, y-you did it!'

it was hard to believe someone was out there for him, though. and yeah, he didn't give a fuck about it, but he also kind of did.

richie, now thinking back on that day, groans a bit. if he'd just known, if he had just fucking looked at the thigh of the girl in front of him with the soft-looking grin and the alluring scent of orange creamsicle shampoo, who'd smiled a bit when he borrowed a pen - if he'd just known then that y/n was meant to spend the rest of her life with him, he could've... well, he's not really sure what he could have done.

he thinks to that moment in time, as he was blowing smoke out the dorm window with bill and giggling as he ate an entire bag of cheez-its, and how much he wanted to know who it was back then.

but tonight, it had become a nightmare when the information practically fell into his lap. he's at this house party in late september, and about five minutes ago it was just boring enough to warrant sitting on the rug in the living room and just fun enough to actually stay.

“-yeah, she said the first time you guys met was in microeconomics, right?” ben says, and richie huffs in agreement as he picks at the skin on his nails. ben was talking about her again, and richie's heart was beating stupidly hard. y/n, one of his closest friends that he'd made outside of the losers, never failed to make his heart run a goddamn marathon.

“-she told me the first thing she noticed was that you were wearing socks with sandals. and she thought that your socks were really ugly.” he finishes with a laugh and richie’s head snaps up at that. he feels chills spill over back as if he’d been doused with ice water and he gapes at ben. “wait, what?” richie shudders, the words escaping his lips quietly enough that his friends mistake it for a forceful exhale brought on by offense at the word 'ugly.'

“well she was right to think that.” stan says from behind his solo cup, carefree, as if richie’s life wasn’t crashing to an alarming and unbelievable halt. eddie giggles faintly somewhere from the floor where the losers are sitting, but richie’s mind is reeling too much for him to react to or even comprehend anything.

“rich, i th-thought i got you to st-stop wearing socks and sandals so long ago.” bill adds, laughing into his hand. but richie’s barely registering any other fucking information because he’s staring at ben, who is finally noticing his friend’s perplexed face. “you good, rich?” ben asks carefully.

“wh-er, wait. what exactly did she say?” richie asks, really not wanting to know the answer and yet wanting to know more than life itself. it can't be her. he’s getting odd looks from everyone now, but he's starting to breathe quickly and he thinks he might vomit. he kind of regrets never showing anybody but big bill his soulmate mark, because he's suffocating right now in embarrassment and bill is a little too drunk to assume what richie's assuming right now.

“wait, y/n y/l/n, right? from my dorm. she’s here tonight, she told me- oh, y/n!” stan calls, looking directly over richie’s shoulder. it happens so fast. y/n, in the flesh, walks past at just that moment, breaking out into a breath-taking, world-halting smile. richie's chest hurts worse than it ever has before as she waves and bustles over to plop herself next to richie. and holy shit, she's wearing shorts because even though it's cold out, the house is warm and richie can see dark ink on her thigh. a soulmate tattoo. he can't draw his eyes away even though his brain is screaming to knock it off because there's going to be something there he doesn't want to accept, but he then does it anyways.

he almost hyperventilates as he reads the words emblazoned on her thigh,

27:36:08 and right below it: "holy hell her hair smells like orange creamsicle"

he almost sobs right then and there as she greets him with a soft hand on his shoulder, completely unaware of their fate and richie has to stand up abruptly because he can literally feel the numbers changing on his arm as the seconds go by with y/n at his side.

and now, mere minutes later he's out here, laying in self pity as anxiety claws at every inch of his body and fear tingles on him like the slight presence of snowflakes falling on his skin - briefly he wonders if, as an older man, he'll wonder how he never got cold wearing nothing, vulnerable as he welcomes in that falling snow.

he would be totally daft not to wonder how he ended up with a soulmate like her, someone not only so fucking attractive but so kind and undeserving of a monstrosity of a human like him. she is, in every place he isn't, a complete and utter success of a person; he's a hurricane where she's whitecaps in the sea, he's loud and abrupt while she is kind and outgoing. maybe they do work well together, hell - they spend enough time on study dates outside of class for him to know that he does really like her. but richie also knows his standoffish, happy-go-lucky and untamed personality paired with his unwillingness to make himself appear vulnerable to most people will probably have a very large impact on... whatever it is that happens with y/n.

because that's really the point, isn't it?

she is stuck with him. bucky beaver, the trashmouth, mr. i-can't-keep-my-trap-shut-for-three-seconds. y/n, the most incredible person in this world, is the kind of person that was designed for richie to admire from afar, as he is so willing to suffer through. because as much as it hurts to watch her and to love her without loving her, it is a thousand times safer for both of them than the inevitable look of disappointment that will befall y/n’s angelic features when she discovers who her burden of a soulmate is.

the thought makes richie choke out a weak sob, sitting up and digging the heel of his palms into his sockets, trying to scrub out the image of himself from his brain. awful, awful, bad.

he takes a long drag from his cigarette and for a brief moment he wonders if, just maybe, she’ll love him back eventually. the thought makes him feel like crying all over again.

huge nose, big teeth, awkwardly skinny and too tall. maybe he's got nice hair, but he sometimes wakes up too late and can only brush his teeth and swipe on deodorant before he's sprinting out his dorm with his pickle socks and stan's old sandals, trudging to class and getting in the way of y/n's future.

but he is her future, after all - how can that be right?

he doesn't have enough time to take another drag from his cig as he hears the glass door open, the noise from the party bursting through the gap in the foundation of the house and sending him back to five minutes, ago, inside. he cranes his neck and can't bring himself to be surprised when he sees her, backlit from the party inside and figure in his mind standing like the only being in the world.

she thinks he looks devastatingly beautiful tonight. she loves the awkwardness in his bones, the way he carries himself with confidence although she's not sure he always really has it. he's wearing some dumb socks again as usual, though they're mostly covered by his black pants and red high-tops this time. it makes her smile softly.

she wants to know him, really know him, as more than just a classmate, a crush, a boy who's friends with stan uris from the floor above her own room. she wants to feel his large hands on her in more than just fleeting greetings, knucks to the shoulder or jaw. she wants the sharp taste of nicotine and mint from those life savers he was always sucking on in her own mouth as he holds her tightly against him, she wants to know everything about him and be with him, even if they aren't somehow destined to be forever. which, she thinks with an array of wild animals tumbling around her chest, they might be.

after all, someone at this party is her soulmate, and she's almost 99.8% sure it's richie. it gives her the most beautiful butterflies she's ever had, even when he stares at her from the deck with glassy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"what’s up, buttercup?” is all she says, in her mind because he's stunned her to near-silence once again by just existing, and in his mind because she is the most perfect being.

he doesn't respond despite being completely charmed by her, because he's breathing in the nicotine and its making his fingers twitch and even though he's sober by now, he thinks he may be tweaking a bit, mostly from the overwhelming set of information that just smacked into his face when y/n walked over into that room.

he watches as suddenly she's dropping herself so she's sat next to him, her legs swinging off the edge of the deck. she eyes his cigarette. "that's so unhealthy, rich." she says softly, teasing but with a lacing of truth behind it that really makes richie itch to never smoke ever again in his life. but he's a stubborn ass, so he instead takes a deeper drag, maintaining eye contact. he can feel one tear slip from his eye and he feels so fucking melodramatic as he does so, but he's at the lowest he's been in a while, so he gives himself a bit of credit.

she reaches out and pulls the cigarette directly from between his lips, sending him a pointed look as she presses it out on the finished wood of the deck. he wipes the tear away when she's not looking. and as she turns back he smirks, unsure what else to do, as he blows the smoke out of his mouth towards her face.

"hi, toots." he says in what he hopes is a normal tone, despite his blotchy and tear-trailed face. she blinks her eyes owlishly at him but just shrugs, "you left a little prematurely back there. what, do i smell that bad?" she jokes. no, he thinks, you smell like orange creamsicles.

it's bittersweet, the irony in her statement. because he knows that she probably knows what she smells like every day, as it's literally tattooed right on the meat of her leg, on display for her and whoever else lucky enough to find themselves being acquainted with the skin of her upper thigh. the thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

maybe if he were feeling a little less in-the-dumps, a little less like a complete and utter disappointment and failure that ruined this sweet girl's life, he would have ribbed her back a bit. you know, grind her gears in typical tozier fashion.

but he's exhausted and so distraught that he can't bring himself to even look at her. "i'm not in the mood" he grumbles, his heart pounding. she frowns, tilting her head.

"okay, what's wrong, richie?" she asks, and it's in that caring voice that she uses that isn't pitying but simply solicitous in nature. her calming force on him is obvious and immediate and his teeth stop rattling around in his head

he wants to scream because she's burning warm and perfect while he's frigid cold inside his body; a wasteland full of broken slinkies and half-formulated 'your mom' jokes that are melded to the crust of him with the tar that's been sucked straight from those damn ciggies. for crying out loud, if he were to so much as touch her, she'd get corrupted.

she notices as he scoots a bit away from her, and her heart hurts. he's so upset, clearly, and yet it hurts her that he can't trust himself or her enough to open up; no fault of his own surely, but heartbreaking all the same. "i care about you, and i really want to be here for you." she says it like there's going to be more, but the words kind of die in her throat as she realizes the extend of her words.

holy shit, she thinks, i'd go to the ends of the earth for him. if richie asked me to, i think i'd probably kill the queen.

"i stubbed my toe, and it really hurts." he says then, and the absurdity of his excuse makes her laugh out loud, head tilting back towards the moon as the bubbly giggles tumble from her lips. she looks at him after and his face is a twisted mix of affection and utter pain, a combination that hurts her to her core but lights a fuel in her that makes her want to help him.

"it's true." he mutters, motioning to his shoe limply, and she looks at his foot, the tip of his converse scribbled in sharpie with the word 'half-brain' and then a bunch of hearts.

"i like your socks." she says absentmindedly, grinning at him as she says it, voice teasing. but the reaction she was hoping for was nowhere to be seen as richie suddenly heaves a hiccup-sob, one so upsetting and quiet that she thinks she misheard it.

but he's keeling over and clutching his face with his hands, shaking his head, and her heart breaks. "richie, honey please tell me what's going on. or i can just sit here, if you'd rather-"

her sentence is cut off with richies own rushed words, expelled from his mouth so quickly that it's almost as if they were trying to escape while his lips tried to hold them in.

"-you're going to have to spend the rest of your life trying to force yourself to love me, and that terrifies me.”

as he says it, his stomach twists itself inwards at his admission and he thinks he's going to be sick. he doesn't deserve you, you're going to resent him for it. she's silent for a few moments, and he doesn't dare look anywhere near her as tears trail down his solemn cheekbones and drop onto the black corduroy that wraps around his jittering legs.

"richie, please, what are you trying to say?" she says quietly, sounding scared, nervous, upset... richie did that. it's his fault. he tilts his head back, his brain buzzing in guilt. "fuck," he says, and it comes out broken, "you... i- you're my soulmate." he says, looking down to where his chest rises and falls almost unnaturally, a consequence of muscle memory being tampered with by the lethally college combination of nicotine, alcohol and marijuana on an empty stomach.

earlier he was afraid that if he opened his mouth too wide he would lose control of his tongue and then the words would come out without him wanting them to, but he knows he's basically sober by now, as sober as y/n is next to him - he's just neurotic, but he doesn't want her to know that, because oh god, what if she hated him for it?

she wouldn't, right? isn't she supposed to find a way to love him?

this was a really stupid idea, but in his mind it was one that had to be done. shutting his eyes, he tugs the sleeve of his left arm upwards, taking a shaky breath. again, it's silent as she reads the words written there. wow, those are the ugliest socks ever.

she stares at the words, and the number above it, then she looks at her own thigh, where the exact same number counts on in time with his.

he wastes no time, though: "-don't worry, doll. i've got it figured out, we can just- maybe we can get yours covered and you don't have to think about it anymore. fi-find someone better, like, oh, bill - he'd treat you nice i think. just- we don't have to think about it, i'm sorry." he says in one breath, not looking at her at all.

"richie, how can i be yours if you're not mine?" she says thickly because she's fighting off tears wondering how someone so incredible and full of life could feel so undeserving.

"you can't want me, you can't." he insists, not looking at her as she gapes at him because if he were to look at her expression he may lose it. it's quiet again in their own little world here, the air silent and numbing as y/n takes a breath.

"oh my god, wait richie how are we this stupid?" she asks, perking up and lightly slapping his arm. he looks at her in shock as she begins to laugh, "we've been alone together so many times. how did we not notice?" she asks, and he chuckles a bit, shrugging.

"maybe we're not the sharpest crayons in the drawer, toots. all i'm sayin' is that i figured it out first." he says cheekily, and secretly both of them are shocked to see how quickly they fell together, as if the knowledge that they were made for each other made all their insecurities fall away.

her face softens again. "you know, i saw my timer counting tonight and i was hoping more than anything that you'd be here. that we'd be-" she adds softly, a hand landing lightly on richie's thigh, sending licks of flames up his body. she takes a breath and restarts. "do you know how fucking bad i wanted it to be you?"

and just like that, y/n unintentionally provides a luscious mix of words and tricks that fill him with barely enough confidence to let him bet when he knows he should fold.

what's life without a little risk?

he meets her eyes for the first time in a few minutes and hers are large and hopeful as they wait patiently for him to give her something. but he still can't speak without running his mouth, so instead he cups her cheeks. her lips part slowly and he stares in awe at her raw beauty, unable to hold it in longer.

he presses his lips to her quickly and to her it feels like he is trying to prove something. it makes her heart soar as he comes alive against her, pressing as enthusiastically as she is into him. he tastes, as she'd guessed, like nicotine but mostly like a mint and it makes her grin as he pulls back.

"is this okay?" he's asking then, his thumb soothing over her cheek sweetly and giving her the same butterflies she gets when he smiles; the very same butterflies that release when he says anything to her, when he comes to her dorm for a study date with two red bulls in his hand, and when she realized their tattoos beat the same.

"yeah, of course." she whispers against his lips, the feeling of his teasing lightly making her sniffle. she presses their lips together again, this time warmer, more comfortably and his hands move to her hips and tug her closer, her hands winding to his neck as his own hands explore her body, caressing her sides gently. he pulls back and holds her softly.

"your hair smells nice." he says sheepishly, and she grins so widely she thinks she may split in two. her heart flutters as she looks into his eyes, finding nothing but love. "orange creamsicle, huh?" she asks with pink cheeks, and he laughs lightly, nodding his head. "best smell ever, babe."

"you make me happy." she says it onto his lips again, and the shiver that runs down his spine is a feeling he wouldn't mind feeling forever. his heart soars because he believes her, he trusts her. she wouldn't lie to him.

"we're so dramatic, aren't we?" richie jokes, his walls sliding back up a bit, but as y/n cuddles into his chest, head against his beating heart as she presses kisses to his neck, he realizes she accepts him.

"yeah, well. we're made for each other, aren't we rich?" she asks gently as his hand falls to brush over her thigh, right over the words. "that's right, toots." he says softly, looking down at her hairline softly, still in disbelief that it worked out for him. she turns to look at him, cheeks dusted a bit as she leans up to press a kiss on his lips.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @simplesammyx @dickology64 @clownsloveyou @baby-yoda-a @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @lets-vibe-bro @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @finnskindofwoman @kait-tozier @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs

#richie tozier x reader #richie tozier has adhd #losers x reader #bill denbrough x reader #stanley uris x reader #mike hanlon x reader #eddie kaspbrak x reader #ben hanscom x reader #beverly marsh x reader #losers club x reader

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slashhinginghasher · 4 years ago

Note

Could a girl get a Drabble of seeing Brahms without the mask on now that we’re all thirsty 🥺

This has been sitting in my inbox for so long, anon you are a saint for your patience

Kiss - Brahms Heelshire x Reader

“No!”

You threw yourself to the side just in time to avoid the vase as it shattered against the wall. It had been quite some time since Brahms had thrown (literally, thrown) a tantrum of this caliber, but apparently asking to clean to his mask had brought out his brattiest side. You had started by asking nicely, of course, but you had each gotten more and more insistent, which was how you’d ended up in the library with Brahms hurling everything he could find around the room.

“Fine!” you shouted, tossing your hands in the air. “Don’t wash, then! But you don’t get anymore goodnight kisses until that filthy thing is clean. It’s gross!”

“You can’t do that! It’s against the rules!”

“New rule!” you announced, snatching up a pen and marching over to the rules list on the wall. “Naughty boys who don’t wash properly don’t get goodnight kisses.” You underlined the new rule twice, turned around triumphantly, and were immediately hit in the face with what must have been the fattest book in the Heelshire library.

***

“Shit,” you mumbled, wincing as you prodded at the large bruise on your forehead. “Idiot, idiot, idiot.” Brahms may have been a grown man, but it was your responsibility to be the adult in these situations. Losing your temper like that... One could not fight brattiness with brattiness. And boy, did you feel like the biggest brat in the world right now, pushing and prodding at something that was obviously a very sensitive topic for Brahms. Whether his issues were purely psychological or due to something physical, he was hiding his face for a reason. By pushing so hard and so callously, you hadn’t just been a bad nanny. You’d been a bad friend. And now Brahms had disappeared into the walls and you probably wouldn’t see him for days.

But you needed to apologize to him now, so you went to his room and picked up the Brahms doll, which had been collecting dust in the corner ever since the real Brahms had shown himself to you months prior.

“I’m sorry, Brahmsy,” you said, enunciating clearly out of habit. “That was so mean of me. It wasn’t right. You don’t have to forgive me right now, but I hope we can still be friends.” You picked up a comb from the dresser and began to brush out the doll’s shiny locks. “Are we still friends?”

A quiet thud sounded within the wall. Your hand froze.

“Brahms?”

Silence.

“Brahms, baby, I’m really, really sorry.” Your eyes burned with approaching tears, and you sniffed. “I was awful. Whatever your reason for... Your reasons for your mask are your business. And not wanting to take it off doesn’t make you bad, or naughty, and I shouldn’t have tried to punish you for it, and I’m so, so sorry.”

More silence.

You set the doll down and went to bed early, feeling miserable.

***

You awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of your bathroom faucet running. Pushing yourself upright in bed, you rubbed some of the sleep from your eyes and squinted at the doorway. Weak moonlight outlined a tall, dark figure hunched over the sink.

“Brahms?” He flinched at the sound of your sleepy voice, turning slightly towards you. The light glinted off something in his hand. Something smooth and pale...

He was washing his mask.

“Baby...” The word was barely more than a whisper, choked by a sudden rush of emotion. Brahms was tense, a rabbit ready to bolt. The enormity of the situation struck you all at once, and you clapped your hands over your eyes.

“It’s okay, Brahmsy, I’m not looking. I won’t look unless you say I can.” Sounds of shuffling from the bathroom. The tap shut off, footsteps creaking over the floorboards, coming to a stop by your bed. Your skin prickled with an intense awareness of the body next to you, your pounding heart nearly drowning out everything else in the room.

“Y/N.” Brahms’ voice was low and rough. A man’s voice. A wholly inappropriate flash of heat zinged down your spine and coiled in your lower belly as a calloused hand grasped your wrist and pulled your hand away from your eyes.

The moon illuminated high cheekbones, a strong brow, and a straight, Grecian nose. Soft, full lips parted around gasping breaths, so hurried he was nearly hyperventilating. Raised burn scars, which would probably be an angry pink in the daylight, traced over one side of his face, creating small patches in his eyebrow and thick beard. Honestly, you had been expecting some sort of disfigurement beneath the mask, and this wasn’t anywhere near as drastic as what you had been imagining. His face wasn’t defined by the scars; they were just there. Brahms’ eyes glittered almost black in the moonlight, the abject terror in them enough to make your heart ache.

“Oh, Brahmsy...” you breathed. “So handsome.” You lifted a hand and let it hover in the air between you. “Can I touch you?” Brahms hesitated, twisting his mask with long fingers, before giving a single jerky nod. You touched the unscarred side of his face first, running your thumb over his cheek and caressing the line where soft skin met the prickle of his beard. Slowly, so slowly, you raised your other hand to the scarred side. Brahms flinched at your gentle touch and you held still, waiting for him to push your hand away. Instead, his eyes slid shut and he covered your hand with his, leaning into your touch.

“So handsome,” you whispered again, choking on the intensity, the intimacy of the moment. “My handsome boy.” Brahms reopened his eyes and held up the mask, showing you the clean porcelain.

“Kiss?” His voice was high and childlike again, and you were secretly relieved. If he’d asked you in that other voice, you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop yourself from jumping his bones.

“Of course.” You smiled and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Good boys get kisses.” You kissed his nose. “As many as they want.” You lowered your lips to his. They were soft and warm, and he tasted... You weren’t sure how to describe Brahms’ flavor, but as you pulled back, all you wanted to do was lose yourself in him and never return. Judging by the flush on Brahms’ face and the way his pupils were dilated, he felt very much the same.

“Again,” he demanded, and pulled you back to him without waiting for an answer. You hardly minded. One hand clutched at your waist, the other holding the back of your head as he deepened the kiss. His movements were sloppy and inelegant, but what he lacked in skill he more than made up for in passion. You tilted your head slightly, creating a better angle, and nipped slightly at his lower lip. Brahms growled at that, the sound shooting straight to your core.

“Pretty Y/N,” he mumbled, lips brushing yours with every word. “Pretty, pretty, pretty.”

“No, you,” you teased, smiling against his mouth. You were crying, or he was crying, or you were both crying, but either way your cheeks were damp and the moment was so perfect you felt you could fly. Brahms pulled back a few inches, gasping like he’d just run a marathon. You ran your thumbs over his cheeks in gentle circles, trying to communicate all your love through the simple touch.

You pressed your forehead to his, then hissed and recoiled. The bruise he’d given you, all but forgotten, had chosen that moment to remind you of its existence. Brahms watched you rub at the throbbing mark with no remorse.

“I forgive you,” he said.

“Oh, good,” you replied sarcastically. “I was a little worried there that you hadn’t.” Brahms frowned, but before your big mouth could ruin the moment, you leaned forward and gave him another quick kiss.

“I’m teasing,” you reassured, pulling back the covers. “Come to bed, you silly, handsome boy.”

For once, Brahms did not argue.

#requests #brahms heelshire #haha whoops this is fluffy #the boy #god damn now i wanna make out with someone #my writing #that creative title tho amirite

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snowdice · 4 years ago

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Little Kestrel (Part 7)[Birds of Different Feathers Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan & Patton & Virgil (future Virgil/Patton but not in this story)

Characters:

Main: Logan, Patton, Virgil

Appear: Thomas

Mentioned: Janus

Summary:

It was supposed to be a quick job either way. Either Virgil would assassinate King Thomas of Prijaznia or he’d be caught and get executed. Yet, when Virgil gets the wrong bedroom and gets caught by Prince Logan and his future royal advisor, Patton, the job ends up getting way more complicated for the 14-year-old. He also ends up sleeping in a (actually pretty comfortable) closet for a few weeks…

Notes: Implied/referenced child abuse, assassination attempt, knives, torture mentioned, captivity, teenagers being really dumb

This is a prequel to Kill Dear. I wrote it 100 words at a time on my blog, but this is the edited version. If you want to see how it was crafted, look at the tag proofread stories.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Logan placed a spoon in one of the boiling pots in front of him so he could get a better look at the liquid. It looked dark enough, but he leaned forward to taste it just to be sure. At the moment, it was basically just mint and lavender tea with a couple of extras. Satisfied with it, he slowly poured it into the slightly simmering larger pot in front of him and stirred it a few times clockwise. The pot glowed a soft purple when he took the spoon out.

He glanced into the other small pot and saw that the liquid there was starting to thicken. It wasn’t quite at the honey consistency he needed it to be yet, but it was on track.

Then, he glanced up at his guest. Virgil had clearly been watching him but looked away quickly when Logan turned to him. Logan studied him for a few more moments. He looked almost sickly in the light of day, like he’d shatter in a stiff wind. Yet, somehow, this was the assassin sent to kill a king? He was an enigma.

Logan turned his attention to the binding potion still simmering on the other table. Virgil cowered slightly as Logan walked by him to check on it. He certainly did startle easy. It was another piece to a concerning puzzle.

The binding potion was coming along well. He stirred it slowly a few times and carefully rinsed off the spoon, so it didn’t get anywhere he didn’t want it before laying it back down. He checked the open book next to it and compared the color to the chart in it. It would need at least an hour or so more before it could be used, but it would be a much better solution to the one that basically glued Virgil’s hands to a chair.

He walked back over to the other potion’s station to start cleaning up his supplies.

He had some herbs that he hadn’t used and stuck a mint leaf in his mouth as he returned them to their correct containers. There was a small wedge of honeycomb left on the plate that he’d cut it on. Without even really thinking about it, he cut the honeycomb into to equal parts with the plan to offer half of it to the other presence in the room. He paused and looked up at said other presence who looked down at his lap quickly.

“Would you like half?” he asked. Virgil looked back up at him, hesitance in his eyes. “You can pick which half each of us eats,” Logan offered.

Virgil nodded slowly and Logan rounded the table with the plate. “Left or right?” Logan asked.

“…Left.”

Logan nodded and went ahead and stuck the right piece in his own mouth before offering the left piece. Virgil parted his lips and Logan popped it into his mouth. Logan almost laughed at the expression that crossed his face as he started to chew. He imagined this is what people were talking about when they mentioned feeding babies different foods for the first time. His eyes went wide, and he blinked a couple of times before chewing a bit faster. Logan smiled at him and took the plate back around to the other side of the table.

The liquid in the second pot had gotten thicker now, and he stirred it carefully a few times before deciding it was finished. He then turned off the heat and quickly scrapped the sticky substance into the main pot. The purple liquid that had been in the pot slowly turned golden as he counted the number of times he stirred clockwise and then began to sparkle as he stirred it a few times counterclockwise. Once he was finished, he turned off the heat under the pot and wandered over to the case that held empty jars.

He grabbed one of the liter ones, and while he waited for the potion to cool, he measured and marked the container with 30 careful lines. The consumer did not need to take an exact amount every day which is why he didn’t bother with separate containers, but for maximum benefit it should generally be about 40ml for the first 10 days and 30ml after that. The lines should help them keep track.

He walked back over to the potion once that was done and placed a funnel into the opening so he could pour it into the marked container. The liquid filled the container a bit higher than 40ml above the top line but having a bit extra the first day wouldn’t harm him.

He looked to Virgil who was watching him with suddenly very wary eyes. He rounded the potion’s station and approached him slowly, hoping not to startle him when he already seemed rather skittish. “Okay, Virgil,” he said. “I’m going to need you to drink this. It’s a…”

“No.”

“W-what?”

“No,” his eyes were locked on the container in Logan’s hand and he shook his head back and forth. “Please no.”

“I assure you, it isn’t poison,” Logan said. “I will even test it myself.” Yet, he was acting differently than he had with the food. He’d begun to shake and cry as he continued to shake his head.

Oh dear. Logan grimaced and set down the potion. He glanced at the door very much hoping that Patton would come through it in the next few seconds, but he did not. “What is…” Logan said. “What is wrong?”

“Please don’t,” he said. “Please. Can’t. No.”

Logan wrung his hands and then went to his knees in front of the hyperventilating boy. He tried to place a comforting hand on his knee, but he flinched violently, and Logan removed his hand quickly. He dithered, unsure what to do as the boy continued to heave with sobs.

“I am not adept with discerning feelings. Please communicate with me verbally.”

He did not seem inclined to capitulate, making pitiful upset sounds that Logan could not determine the meanings of.

“Please, no, hurts,” he said.

“You think it will hurt you?” Logan asked with a frown. “It won’t hurt you Virgil. The purpose of that potion is quite the opposite.”

He either did not hear Logan or did not register what he said. “Please,” he begged. “I’ll be good. I won’t even move. Please.”

Won’t move? Logan glanced over at the other potion still simmering at its station. “Do you think this is a binding potion?” he asked. “Why on Earth would I be offering you a binding potion to drink?” Yet, Logan watched as he shook and cried, eyes not quite focused on Logan but on something else that wasn’t there. “Did,” Logan with dawning horror. “Did someone feed you a binding potion?”

Logan had once accidently gotten some of a binding potion he was making on his hand. It had stung like a thousand small bees had attacked one area of his skin, and it was only made worse by the fact that even that small amount had kept him trapped in place for hours. Binding potions were sticky. They were difficult to remove. Even after the counter potion had been applied, he’d still felt a bit of an ache when he moved it for the next week or so. It’s why one was never supposed to apply it directly to a person’s skin.

Who would make someone drink that? Beyond the assured agony and full body paralysis, it could easily kill someone. If not cooked properly, it was literally poison and even if it was perfect, there was still the possibility that it would freeze a person’s lungs, heart, or any other number of internal organs. If someone had fed Virgil a binding potion (and while he was no expert on facial expressions, the one currently on his face made Logan sure that someone had) they had little regard for his life.

Logan tired his best to soften his expression and tone. “Hey Virgil,” he said. “It’s okay. I won’t force you to drink anything. It’s not a binding potion, but I won’t make you drink it anyway.” It took him a bit to calm down as Logan continued to give him soft assurances, but finally his breaths started to even out. “Are you alright?” Logan asked.

Virgil nodded after a moment.

“Good.” He waited for a few minutes for Virgil to calm down even more before he said anything else. “I will not make you drink any potions,” Logan promised. “Though, if you wouldn’t mind, I would like to explain the option of drinking the one I prepared.”

He gave Logan a suspicious blink, but he didn’t seem inclined to have another fit at the sentiment.

“It is not a binding potion,” Logan started with. “I am making one for you, but I have no intention of having you consume it. What I was offering to you is medicinal. Both Patton and I noted that you seem unhealthy and likely malnourished. While nothing can reverse the effects of malnutrition completely, the potion I made would help prevent many future problems as well as let your body acclimate to a more nutritious diet easier.”

Virgil squinted at him. “Why?” he asked. “I’m your prisoner. Why would you want to help me?”

“You are my prisoner which means you are under my care,” Logan said. “I will not abide by your suffering if I can prevent it. That being said, if drinking the potion causes you undue mental distress, I will not force it upon you.”

Virgil studied him, eyes hard and suspicious, but his words were tentative when they came. “Does it hurt bad?” he asked.

“It doesn’t hurt at all,” Logan promised. “Allow me to demonstrate for you?” He nodded and Logan stood to retrieve the potion.

Logan placed his thumb over the lid of the container and tilted it until he felt the liquid hit his skin. He pulled his hand away and showed Virgil the notable drops of liquid on his thumb before opening his mouth and clearly placing it on his tongue. “It mostly tastes like the honey I put in it,” he told him, “plus a bit of lavender and mint. It does have a slightly sour aftertaste, but overall, it’s fine. How about just a small amount to start and then you can decide if you want to drink the rest of the dose for the day?”

“Okay,” Virgil agreed.

“I’m going to put this bottle to your lips. You can take as little as you wish.” Virgil nodded and Logan leaned forward and pressed the container to his mouth. Virgil kept his lips firmly closed as Logan titled it up briefly before taking it away. Virgil’s tongue came out to swipe up a bit of the liquid on his lips. He seemed to brace himself as he waited for something to happen, but he calmed after a few moments.

“Oh,” he said. “That’s not bad.”

“It is not intended to be,” Logan said. “Would you be willing to drink a bit more?”

Want to read more? Click below!

AO3 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

#sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #character thomas sanders #adriana writes #little kestrel #birds of different feathers #implied/referenced child abuse #assassination attempt #past torture #captivity

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tuttifuckinfruttifriday · 4 years ago

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Final part of The Letter >:D this was so much fun @randomly-a-fan ! Luv u❤️ so sorry it took so long!

Recap here !

The Reckoning

Pairing: Jason Voorheese x MJ, Jason Voorheese and MJ x Malon, side of Freddy Krueger x Malon, Archie x Malon,>:)) ?? x MJ and Jason

Warnings: Censored curse words, violence, gore/wounds , angst, small fluff, ?? being sweet, horror

This one might not be that good D: but I tried

Don’t hesitate to tell me the mistakes I made, since it’s long af<3

There’s a lot of time skip(—) but my ideas were mixed and I forgot some things and I’m lazy-

Songs I used:

Archie blinked slowly as he tried to find where he was, having no ideas and seeing as it doesn’t look like anybody’s here. Small parts of his memory were coming back to him very slowly, so he hoped to remember all soon....

And mostly hoped that Jason would do something about it. His father didn’t know about all that Freddy thing, nor his mother... so he couldn’t really except them to help. With a sigh, he walked around and tried to familiarize himself with the boiler room...

MJ was woken up with a gasp, sighing as she realized it was the same nightmare she had yesterday. A loud alarm was blaring from under the door and flashing red lights seeped through the cracks. “What’s going on?!” Panic took place as MJ’s eyes widened, her small frame shaking. There were screams outside, and she didn’t want to know who where their owners. Everything seemed like chaos, to her horrified satisfaction, there was even a coopery smell in the air, which told her that the people behind the door wouldn’t open it soon. A scream passed her lips as she realized she was wrong and there was a sudden banging on the metal, her hands clutching the white covers on the cheap bed. She panicked even more when the door started to open, ready to run outside when they’ll open it— Only to stare at the man before her. “W-what.....???” She was shocked and a little confused, his height difference being obvious. She saw the killer in the papers, but she never thought she would see him in real life... or even live long enough to take in his features. The silent killer only looked at her, his fist, face and white clothes bloodied, as he started walking. Was he sparing her?? Not wanting to be left alone and wanting to show him that she was grateful, she caught up to him. “Th-thank you...” The tall man didn’t show in any way that he heard her, but she was just happy he didn’t kill her. What she didn’t know tho is that he already knew her, but that’s a story for another time if any of you read the previous stories—

She walked alongside him, her shoulder brushing his big arm by moments. He didn’t seem to mind, but she was starting to feel anxious as they passed bloodied and destroyed corpses on the ground. When she wasn’t looking up at him, the killer’s blue eyes took her small frame in, no emotions on his face. The truth is, when he saw that she and Jason were taken, he waited in the open to get taken in. Even if it took some time for the smaller officers to get close to him, his plan worked, like always.

MJ’s eyes widened when she saw the figure of her undead husband approaching, a big smile on her face as she ran from the side of the long haired killer who saved her and embraced him, the latter doing the same and he smeared blood on her white clothes, but she didn’t care at the moment. The Shape looked at the reunion, a small sparkle of emotions blooming in his eyes for a really small second before it disappeared.

Some time later, in the dream realm, Freddy was looking at the newspaper, a growl escaping his throat as he read the titles. “Crystal Lake massacre escapes mental asylum!” “The Shape of Hadonfield taken in and escaping!” In his rage, the dream demon threw a mug that was on the table, scaring half to death the two kids in the corner. “That bxtch....” Rage engulfed him. How tf did Michael get into this?! Freddy grumbled.

The purple-haired clown was hiding the small redhead behind him, seeing that she was really scared. Malon started to feel sick as the heat seamed to increase, her small body not being able to bear it. When Archie felt her sliding down the wall, her feet coming to rest against his, he turned around and saw her breathing in big gasp, sweat literally dripping from her face and neck and he started to panic even more.

Having gotten out, the trio (Jason, MJ and Michael) walked into the parking, The Shape immediately going to a car and opening it with random keys the husband and wife didn’t notice. Suddenly, MJ doubled-over and gasped in pain as she felt really hot, her breaths coming in small gasps as she hyperventilated. Her husband immediately rushed towards her, getting down on his knees as he tried to understand what’s wrong, the click of the car’s locks audible behind him. But they didn’t have time for that, so he opened the door and before he could do anything, Michael took MJ and put her in the back before taking Jason by the arm and putting him in the driver side. He knew a little how to drive since he had to move some victim’s car, but he couldn’t for now because of his shock with being thrown in the seat and MJ moaning in pain at the back. Before he could do anything else, Michael closed the door and looked in the direction of where they came from, still with no emotions showing on his face, only a killer glare. If glares could kill, the nurses and police officers would be dead right now. His feet slammed on the pedal when shots rang, 2 bullets piercing the back window.

—

After being far enough from the hospital, Jason got into the back seat with MJ, who was feeling a little better now. “I-I’m okay now, baby...” “Thank you... And I-I’m so so sorry, it wasn’t me who sent the location—“ With wide eyes, he stopped her by putting his mask up and placing his cold lips softly on hers, one hand behind her head. Speechless and with a smile, MJ kissed him back. They cuddled and hugged for some time, and without realizing it, Jason fell asleep beside her. When she decided that she wanted to tell him about Malon’s situation, she realized he was sleeping... so she cuddled some more with a frown, knowing she wouldn’t be able to wake him up.

—

He was in a room he knew too well, having been here when he fought The Nightmare, Freddy Krueger. He couldn’t stop himself from letting out a shaky breath, his heart going a little faster as he remembered that day. “Well hello there, Big Guy.... Care to join the party?~” Jason turned around in a second as he saw the burnt guy before him, his rotten teeth into a wicked smile. Confused, he frowned and prepared his machete beside him, even if he knew it wouldn’t do anything to him. Party?? What party?? Eyes glancing down, he regretted it. Scratch marks and hair were all over the ground, even what looked like meat which he knew it wasn’t.

His eyes widened when he saw Malon’s body behind him, her red hair hiding her bloodied face and her body on the hot ground—

“Too late.”

—-

A breathless gasp escaped his unmasked face as he sat up, realizing that he was moving. MJ, who was driving, smiled sadly when she saw her husband awake. “Good, you’re awake.” She then stopped the car, turning the keys as Jason took his surroundings in. They were back at their house, the camp. A smile smile appeared on his face until he remembered what he saw in his dream and decided to tell his wife, the latter gasping in shock. “That... that’s probably the man that took her—“ A big hand was put in her shoulder as she started to hyperventilate again. She buzzed against it, the hand cupping her cheek as it’s owner made her look into his eyes, brown eyes blinking as he looked at his wife with a calm face. He knew what he had to do, he would do the same thing he did when Malon was taken the first time... He took his wife inside, her still shaking body wrapped tightly in his arms. Before starting with the plan, they changed their clothes and Jason carefully pushed MJ to get on the bed, taking his notepad and writing on it as she frowned. “She is in the dream realm, we’ll take her back.” “You.. You’re sure Jay..?” He gave a nod in response. So with a sigh, she leaned back and tried to sleep, Jason getting behind her carefully as he set the watch on his wrist, the last time he took it coming back to his mind. He put the minuter to 35 minutes and got down. Their bodies tangled together as they relaxed, their minds going blank as they fell into their nightmare.

Boiling hot steam streamed out of the groaning pipes above them as they got up, MJ taking Jason’s hand as her eyes darted back and forth. The father was determined to find his daughter, again, even if it took his own life this time. He didn’t knew why Freddy did this, why he tried to take all the good things he had, but what he was sure of is that he would make sure to take him back to the real world and make him pay. He knew that Malon wasn’t really dead, he felt it. He only wanted to provoque him, like that last time. His thoughts were cut short when he heard a boyish scream, followed by a high pitched one. He immediately ran toward the noise, MJ running after him with wide eyes, only to trip on a chain that came out of nowhere. “Jay—“ The metal wrapped tighter around her, making her whimper and silencing her. Jason’s steps immediately stopped as he turned toward his lover, his machete at the ready. Not even taking the time to think, he swung the weapon with so much force that the chain creaked and almost broke, finally breaking when he gave another. He caught her body, slowly placing it ont he ground before kissing her head and running toward the noise again, leaving his lover all wrapped up in the rusty metal. Ignoring her calls, he knew she would be safer there. A quick glance at his watch, his breathing hitched in his throat when he saw he had only 20 minutes.

When Jason finally found the source, after 10 minutes of running around in circle, he had to hold back another gasp. Before him were Archie and Malon, the two of them covered in bruises. He didn’t know what was more shocking, Malon sweating and looking sickly pale on the ground, or Archie standing before her protectively, a claw mark on his face and two on his arm. The scratches weren’t deep, but it still looked like it really hurt. They looked like they’d been through hell, small burns covering their bodies.

He couldn’t hold himself back, jumping and tackling Freddy who only now realized his presence. They fought on the ground for some time, Malon crying and whimpering in the background as Archie tried to calm her and watched silently. Each time the dream demon tried to wrapped something around him or disappear, he would always find him at the end. Jason gave all he could, almost getting transpierced by his own weapon. 3 mins. He made sure Malon and her friend were alright before he kicked the brunt man two or three times, making him bark out a laugh. He then rolled to the side as Freddy’s glove was about to slash, taking down the kids with him as the watch finally beeped—

He rolled down the bed as he woke up, the children groaning as they came in contact with the hard floor. MJ was still sleeping, so he made sure to carry her somewhere safer before The Nightmare appeared and slashed at his back, making his daughter scream as she fell and MJ waking up. The two female screamed and cried as they hugged each other, the older one taking the small boy and pulling him back as he tried to get into the fight.

Freddy got thrown through the window as Jason jumped too, Malon following closely behind without him noticing. She was scared for her father and knew that she could never beat a grown man, but her curiosity got the best of her. They got to the lake, Jason forgetting his fears as he continued to slash his weapon, smirking under his mask when he sees Freddy leaning down and panting. They fell to the ground, and as he raised his machete and was going to kill him, the man under said something that made him stop.

“Come on, momma’s boy. Slash me infront of your daughter.~” he dared to look behind him as he caught his daughter small frame behind him, her eyes wide open. The demon had the smuggest look on his face, which didn’t help Jason’s decision as he put his arms on top of his head as he brought down the weapon with his two hands, hearing the sickening sound of the blade transpiercing his flesh.

#jason voorheese #freddy krueger #randomly a fan #michael myers #rz #rob zombie michael myers

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lennydaisy · 5 years ago

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EPIPHANY SERIES // OUTER BANKS // CHAPTER THREE.

(n.) a moment when you suddenly feel that you understand. or suddenly become conscious of something that is very important to you.

“Care to seize the day, my friend?”

Outer Banks Season 1- FEM OC! and ?

Here’s the link to Chapter Two in case you haven’t read it already <3 Check it out!!

Babysitting isn't for everybody. And at the beginning, I didn't think I was for me either. They say every child is different and this job has proved that couldn't be more true. Call it delusion, but I thought babysitting would be the easiest job on the planet. Getting paid to look after someone's kid for a few hours whilst they run for the hills for a sliver of free time. Sounds easy enough right?

Wrong!

You need to have thick skin when it comes to babysitting. No matter how much the parents reassure and praise their kid for being a literal angel on earth. That said angel will call you a do-do head at least once whilst simultaneously having a tantrum because you told them no, despite how much they promised that their parents allow them to climb onto of the refrigerator.

The first time I babysat it was actually a baby I was watching. The mom wanted to get out of the house and away from the responsibility of her 6-month-old. She had graciously written up any and every scenario that could play out in the few hours she was gone. And I was feeling confident. Until I wasn't.

They wouldn't stop crying. And their special lamb, that the board told me to give to the baby when they were upset, ran out of batteries, and I couldn't find new ones anywhere.

They refused to eat, just spitting the pureed food back in my face. They also wouldn't keep their socks on and that was the last straw for my sanity. I understood now why the mom had been quick to run out the door.

I ended up calling Kie, begging for her to come and help. I don't know how she understood a word I said, I was practically hyperventilating over the line, staring at the baby who was crawling around in a fit of rage.

Kie was truly a godsend. She somehow fed the baby and managed to get them to sleep before the mom came back. It did result in me splitting my first wage with Kie, but I wasn't complaining, I was just happy that I made it out of that house with just a headache and not an external crisis. Though that did come later.

I've babysat an 8-year-old boy, who ran away from me in the park. I did find him eventually. After giving myself a hairline fracture in my right wrist from climbing the tree he got stuck in.

I've babysat animals before. That wasn't part of my non-existing contract, but the way they spoke about their pets was very humanlike. It didn't end well for me, it never does. It resulted in me holding four leashes of four overly excited Komodo Dragons. Just kidding. The refused to move and lacked any type of emotion.

'I took you guys to the beach, be grateful.'

Now, I know what you're thinking, Komodo Dragons? Aren't those Illegal to have as pets? The answer to that question is yes! But I didn't know that. Just imagine Shoupe's face when he saw me practically dragging not one, but four, exotic animals across the boneyard. It looked suspicious is all I'm going to say.

Turns out the two guys who asked me to babysit their dragons for them we're smugglers who purchased and sold exotic animals. Not good. Apparently, they were already under the police departments radar and the pair planned on legging it to the in-country hoping to change and clear their names.

That worked out well for them, I think? Nothing else was really mentioned of it after my dad collected me from the police station. They're still on the radar, I hope. If not then there are two brawny men out there that could come and kill me in my sleep for ruining their very illegal business. Look, If you are up to some suspect things, my dumbass is the last person you'd want to be involved. I will unironically get you caught.

That's how Ward Cameron had heard about my very pristine babysitting service. Noticing the little bit of trouble that always seemed to shadow me, he offered to hire me permanently as his youngest daughter's babysitter.

That was three years ago, and here I am still babysitting Wheezie.

"This is stupid," Wheezie complains, trudging behind me, pushing forward the shopping cart filled with lost items that we found on the beach.

Since there is no internet in Kookland, in other words, Wheezie's heart line is currently in critical care. I decided to venture outdoors with her for a change. Instead of just sitting around her three-storey clubhouse or in her four-acre backyard, I thought it would be nice to comb the beach of any debris that the hurricane brought along.

There was a lot of personal items that washed up on the beach too. Wallets, bags, photographs, books, clothes, wine bottles, footballs, toys, you get the gist. Most of them were ruined, either waterlogged or just completely useless. However, somethings just needed a good clean, and that's what we are going to spend our day doing. There is no way of telling what belongs to who, so we'll just turn them into the lost and found and hope they'll check there if it was important enough to them.

Our two trollies worth didn't even make a dent in the rubble that litters the beach, but it was a start. Say hello to a summer of hard labour.

"There was a hurricane Wheezie, have some sympathy" I roll my eyes at the girl who was less than thrilled about today's plans.

"I do have sympathy," she claims defensively, "It's just pointless. No one's gonna come looking for this junk," eyes flickering through the findings in her trolley.

What we found isn't pointless. They belong to someone. I think about it the same way I did as a kid when I wanted every single teddy bear in my bed at night so none got left out, so I didn't hurt their feelings. A ragged old soccer ball might look worse for wear, but it has a home and I going to get it back there.

"It's not junk," I object, stopping momentarily, waiting for the stroppy pre-teen to catch up. "Say you lost your phone and someone found it, and returned it too you. You wouldn't be grateful?" I theorize in terms that I know she would understand.

"My dad would just get me a new one," she shrugs nonchalantly, not missing a beat.

"Well, not everyone's fortunate that way," I remind her, blinking suddenly as the sun shines on something reflective in the cart, blinding me.

Reaching towards the sparkling object, I realise that it appears to be quite expensive. It's a glass ashtray. Rubbing the damp sand off the surface, my thumb feels an engraving. In swirly calligraphy, reads the initials:

'S.G'

"I'm sorry," Wheezie apologizes, wincing when she heard my comment, "I didn't think-"

"-It's okay," I smile at the girl. It's not like I don't understand my current life situation. It's pretty shitty, I know, but I live with it. I was born a Pogue for a reason. I wasn't supposed to be born with a silver spoon in my mouth, though that doesn't mean I hate those who are. They have it easier than me and my family, sure, but that's just how it is in the Outer Banks. Some are more fortunate than others. It does, however, leave a sour taste in my mouth that Kook parents will just throw money at there children to get them to shut up, but that's just a Pogue's opinion.

The generators haven't kicked in yet, seeing as though the Camerons security code gate is bouncing loosely against its unlocked hinges. Holding the gate open for Wheezie to push by with her cart, I catch a glimpse of their usually perfectly mowed lawn. Instead, I see plenty of fallen trees and scattered branches, broken plant pots, and ruined garden monuments. It’s not a good look, especially for the high-class Camerons.

That just goes to show, hurricane's don't show mercy on anyone, Kook or not.

As a wise man once said; 'Thanks Agatha, ya batch.'

Parking our carts beside the Cameron's private pool, away from the workers who are just trying to do their jobs. I turn to Wheezie saying, "You go get some soapy water and gloves and I'll empty the carts."

Nodding her head, she rushes into her house, leaving me slightly confused, 'Where did the sudden enthusiasm come from?'

Emptying the carts, I lay out what needs to be cleaned the most: from a bronze candlestick holder to a old, yet unique, shoe buckle, and everything in between. And of course, the ashtray.

Holding it gently in my palms, legs crossed against the cold slabs, I couldn't help but feel hypnotised by the intricate marks that littered the tray. It truly was a lost treasure.

"I'll take that," announces a voice from behind my hunched figure, jumping when a hand snatches the tray from my grip.

Coming to my feet, I'm ready to snatch the tray back from the sudden thief, but I stop when I realise who it is. Why am I not surprised, I am on their turf.

If it isn't dumb, dumber and dumbest.

Throwing the delicate glass from hand to hand, Rafe lets out a low whistle, "Check the weight on that," he tosses it to Kelce who was standing tall behind him. Kelce nods his head in approval, of course agreeing with what Rafe has to say.

"Who did you steal that from Pogue?" Rafe smirks thinking he has me sussed out. Not wanting to give the satisfaction that him lobbing around the ashtray is causing me heart amputations, I stare him in the eye, "I didn't steal it. I found it."

"You did, did you," he utters pushing past me, his head low with a sick smile, taking in the view of the tressures that I had laid out, "And what about all this? Did you just find that too?"

I say nothing. He knows the answer to that question. I already told him. I don't need to explain myself, especially not to Rafe Cameron.

His eyes flicker over Wheezie and I's findings, taking in each and everyone with a curious eye, before he cracked, "Bunch of junk," kicking some of the items into the pool.

All I could do was stare. Stare as someone's possessions sunk to the bottom of the marble pool, clashing and crumbling at the foot of Rafe. I fell sick.

His friend just laughs, egging him on. Kelce patting him proudly on the back, handing him back the ashtray. Rafe turns to face me, that smirk never leaving his face, but I can't look at him. I refuse to.

"-Hey Rafe, dad's looking for you," a soft voice breaks the harsh glare that Rafe was sending my way. Nodding his head at the voice, he holds the ashtray out for me to take.

It was too good to be true.

Gullible enough, I reach out for it, only to have it slip through my fingertips. Unable to hear the shattering of the glass as it hits the red slab, my brain refuses to accept fate as I stare down at the shards.

Laughing lightly, I bite my lip, nodding my head understandingly, not expecting anything less from Rafe. A sharp grip on my wrist snaps up my damp eyes, "See you later, Pogue," he hisses in my numb ear, before marching away as though nothing happened.

Sensing a presence, I meet eyes with the 3rd and final member of Rafe's crowd.

Topper.

Smiling lopsidedly at the well put together boy who hasn't moved or spoken since showing up, "Nice friends you've got there Topper," I say monotoned, watching as the boy snaps out of his trance-like state before following Rafe with a blank expression and his tail between his legs.

Shuddering out a breath, I unclip my waist bag and begin to pick up the chunks of glass. Pausing when a pair of clean, white shoes entre my line of sight, "Careful," she crounches down, picking up a shard, placing it into my bag.

A few minutes of picking up the sizable pieces, all that was left on the slabs was a glittering shimmer. Satisfied with what was salvaged, we stand back up to our full height. It was silent. Awkwardly silent.

"Thank you," I shyly say, not at all pleased that the Cameron girl had caught me in a moment of weakness, but at least she didn't mock me for it.

"Your welcome," she smiles before reaching for the tennis rackets she had thrown on the ground before coming to help me. Certain that was the end of the exchange, I turned back to the pool where pieces of metal and loose book pages float carelessly on the surface.

It was just a bunch of junk anyway.

"Hey," Sarah turns, rubbing the back of her head subconsciously, "I'm going to save mice from the birds," she says, pointing out to the bottom of her garden where the surge has blown over, waterlogging the grass.

I just blink at the girl, confused as to why she is even telling me this. Letting out a gentle huff, "I have a spare racket," she offers, holding out one of the two rackets she has in her hands.

Finally catching what she's throwing, I look anywhere but her direction, "I can't," hoping to find a legit excuse as to why I don't want to help her be a hero for mice. Then it hit me, "I'm supposed to be babysitting Wheezie."

My triumphant smile fell as fast as it came when Sarah says, "The powers back on, Wheezie will not willingly come outside again," still holding out the bat for me to take, "Also, my dad's back, so your shift ended about 20 minutes ago."

The more reasons she adds, the more difficult she is making it to say no, and she knows it as well. Her eyebrows dancing lightly as she waves the racket around like a tempting treat.

Giving in, seeing as though I have run out of excuses to give, I grudgingly accept the racket. Maybe her being the sworn enemy of my best friend would have been a good excuse, but I didn't think of that at the time. And what would I of said:

'Oh, I can't help you, even though you selflessly helped me, because my best friend hates your guts.'

What are we, middleschoolers?

I can't help but feel wrong about it though. Like I'm betraying my role as a pogue, as a best friend. But if I feel that way about just being near the kook princess, that doesn't make me any better than her brother. A judgmental prick.

Let's call it paying back a debt. She helped me, now I'll help her. Tit for tat. Anything to make my mind feel at ease.

Walking behind the women who seemed to be on a mission, I'm met by the shrieking flock of overhead seagulls, each nosediving into the burrows, hoping to catch their next meal.

"Operation ‘Save The Mice’ is a go," she announces, holding out her racket waiting for me to tap mines against hers, declaring our battle. I couldn't help but wonder aloud, "Why does this concern us?" tapping my racket unsurely against hers.

Nodding her head in confirmation, she takes her stance, eyes now set on the sky. "You have about as much compassion as a rock," she focusses her swing, untimely missing by a long shot. It was entertaining to watch, I'm not going to lie.

"Tell me something I don't know," I reply, leaping back as the girl swings her racket with vigour and fury at the diving gulls. I can't help but laugh at her attempts.

Having enough of my laughter she turns around, a challenging look flaring in her eyes, "Think you can do any better?"

I just shrug my shoulders, twirling the racket around my fingers, smirking at my trick, but Sarah just looks unimpressed. Watching as a flock of gulls take their position to dive, I jump as high as possible hoping to swat them away.

At that moment I learned something about human capability. Humans shouldn't jump. Like ever. It's embarrassing. What do we expect? To touch the stars? It's nice to dream and imagine that when we push both legs of the ground, arms reaching high, that we are close to flying. Let's just say my non-existing dream to become an Olympic long jumper has just flushed down the toilet.

Another thing I learned is that when you swing a racket, with force, at a cluster of hungry Seagulls, you will get attacked. The only thing between them and they're next meal is me, and they didn't hesitate to remove me from the situation.

Letting out a shriek, I run away from the burrows, hands protecting my head as the birds swoop at me. Without a second thought, I run behind Sarah, using her as a shield to protect my crouching figure from the diving gulls.

After two minutes of fearing for my life, I can't help but chuckle at myself. And Sarah joins in, shoving my arm lightly, pushing me away from hiding behind her. The sudden shove causes me to stumble over my own feet, falling back on the grass. I couldn't help but laugh more, seeing stars as my stomach cramps in pain.

Sarah holds out her hand, trying her best to keep her balance from laughing, offering to help me up. I accept without a second thought, allowing her to pull me to my feet. Both smiling widely at our stupidity.

"Let's get these birds," I smirked at the girl who nodded her head in agreement. Both of us taking a battle stance, ready to defend our people. Or well Mice. They attack us, we attack them.

A cold shadow suddenly covers the setting sun that was shining against us. We let out another shriek, holding each other as we attempt to duck from the relentless gulls, running away from the burrows.

"Sarah!" I hear someone shout over our screams. Too busy protecting ourselves, we didn't even register the voice, "Mason?!" They ask in confusion.

Finally feeling safe enough from the killer birds, I look up to see Mr Cameron making his way towards us with Lana Grubbs at his side. 'Why is she here?'

"We're busy!" Sarah exclaims, picking up and tossing me the racket I had dropped when I fell, going back to swinging at the birds. She takes one side of the burrows and I take the other, waving around my racket. At this point I don't even care about the mice, those birds attacked me! So, I'm attacking them!

"What are you two doing?" Mr Cameron asks, not understanding why his daughter and his hired babysitter are running around like headless chickens.

"Saving mice," I reply, flashing my eyes over to the man, who stands with an ever so slightly amused look. "The birds are having a field day," Sarah adds, pulling me with her, chasing after the devils in the sky.

"Girls, the birds have to eat too," He implies, but we didn't hear any of it, still aimlessly swinging. "No, it's a mouse genocide out here," Sarah states breathlessly.

"It's the circle of life," Mr Cameron's patience was running thinner, "Now come on, I have a human being-" finally introducing the other presence in the garden. This pauses our attack, both looking apologetically at the lady, "-I'm so sorry. I'm Sarah."

Shaking the ladies hand, "This is Lana Grubbs, Scooter's wife," Mr Cameron introduces, "You were storm prepping with him, right?" he asks his daughter.

"Yeah," she answers, still breathless, "He helped me latch the cabin to the Druthers," nodding her head in the direction of the docked boat at the end of the pier.

'It's a nice boat,' I thought taking in the beauty of the three-story yacht, 'You can't hide money, huh.'

"Last night?"

"Yeah."

"And did he go out after that?"

"From here?"

"Yeah."

"No. Are you crazy? There was a hurricane," Sarah laughs lightly at the thought of someone willingly going out during a storm.'I could think of a few people,' bringing my attention back to the two adults in front of me.

"Well, did he say where he was going?" Miss Lana asks, her eyes erratic, "Get a phone call or mention anything?" The desperation lacing her voice makes my heart stop with sympathy for the woman.

"He didn't say anything to me," Sarah shakes her head, her tone not hiding her pity for the lady.

"What about you Mason?" Mr Cameron asks me, "Have you seen Scooter recently?" his questions sparking Miss Lana to look my way, her eyes glistening with withering hope.

"The last I saw of him was when Pope and I delivered to your house," regret instantly hit me, as I had to be the bearer of bad news. It was true though. The last time I saw Scooter was earlier this week when he opened the door for his groceries. I've seen him at Save-A-Lot a few times, but that was months ago when I had to tell him to leave because other customers were complaining that he was bothering them for money.

"I'm sorry," I apologise to the lady who just shakes her head, looking at the ground.

"Is he okay?" Sarah asks her dad who just nods, wrapping an arm around Miss Lana, "He's absolutely fine," he reassures Sarah, before guiding the dazed woman back towards the house.

"Oh!" I hear Mr Cameron exclaim, spinning round to face me, digging through his pockets, "Thank you for watching Wheezie today," he says, placing a brown envelope in my hand.

"Thank you, sir," I smile with gratitude as he makes his leave again.

Sighing, I slap the envelope a few times in my hand, turn back to a Sarah. I go to snap her out of her daydream, but get interrupted by a distant voice, "Hey Sarah!"

At the top of the disarranged lawn stood a scornful Topper, hands in his pockets as he looks down on us, making his way over at a snail pace.

"You better go," I flick my head in the direction of her boyfriend whose eyes are slitted with distaste. Holding out the racket for her to take, she nods her head and makes her way over to Topper, not even sparing me a glance.

I get it.

"I want you to stay away from that pogue, alright?" I hear him utter not so quietly under his breath, knowing fine well that I'm still able to hear him. I pay him no mind, finding my own way out. That's what he wants. Attention. That's always been what Toppers wants. And I'm not going to give him that satisfaction. Not anymore.

Humming a gentle tune under my breath as I make my way towards the gate. I double-take when I spot a hunched figure sitting by the pool, "Wheezie?"

My sudden appearance spooking her as she ripped the earphones out from her ears, the buds projecting a catchy pop beat. The girl sat on the cold slabs, clad in yellow rubber gloves and safety goggles, surrounded my various cleaning tools: a basin of soapy water, a toothbrush, a blow torch?

"What are you doing?" I ask sceptically, making my way towards her as she stuttered over her words before giving up with a sigh.

"I heard what Rafe said," she admits, her voice low as though afraid to speak out against her brother. That's the Rafe effect. He gets off on it. Knowing that everyone around him, his family included, is too scared to tell him he's a mess with even messier opinions. "And it not true," she adds.

Wheezie walks over, holding out the shoe buckle that we found on the beach. The once rusted and unrecognisable buckle now sparkled a blinding silver, and despite its eroded corners, it was still in great condition, "Pretty, right?" she notices my expression, "That's not the best part," she claims, turning over the buckle, holding it out of me to take.

Engraved on the silver base scribed, 'Made in Occupied Japan.'

"I couldn't save everything, like books and stuff, but I tried my best. I even made a box and everything," She rambles, rushing over to pick up the homemade box that read, "Lost and Found," painted in bold, pink lettering. In the box sat: a polished pin, the candlestick holder, a handful of leather wallets and all the other salvageable treasure that we found. And now the shoe buckle.

"It's not junk," she says, passing me the box, "They belong to someone and I hope they find them," she says, rubbing the back of her tinted red neck, finally understanding why I had her help me in the first place.

It's not junk.

I'm not great when it comes to other peoples emotions. They make me want to shrivel up and go invisible, but I can't help but admire the girls change of heart, but I'm still awkward so, I just ruffle her hair, hoping the annoying act conveys my gratitude.

Having enough of me for one day, Wheezie pushes me toward the gate, practically kicking me out. "See you next time kid," I shout over my shoulder, smiling as her face grovels at the word 'kid'.

Basking at my long journey home, I give up attempting to balance the light box in my arms. I place it on the sidewalk, unzipping my waist bag wanting to tuck the brown envelope, that I was struggling to hold, away.

The clattering of glass pauses my actions. Reaching in, I pick out a small piece, watching as the setting sun danced across the surface, shining every colour of the rainbow onto the tarmac.

'S.G'

Chapter Three: FIN!

I really enjoyed writing this chapter, even though it’s kind of filler. Kie would be proud of Mason for beach combing, her tendencies are rubbing off on her.

I choose for Mason not to go to the motel because that’s just what I choose, I don’t really have a reason why. Well I do, but I can’t tell you yet. You’ll find out eventually, if my idea goes to plan...

So we learned about Mason very perfessional babysitting service. Also I know that Rafe is, y’know bad, but I’m excited to explore Mason’s relationship with him. It will be interesting to write!

What did you think?

I’m really excited to write the next chapter. Mason is going to get buzzed.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter <3

Also, if anyone would like to be tagged in future chapters, just let me know and I’ll for sure do that!

*TAGLIST*

@xshinytrashcanx @prejudic3 @annoylinglyaries

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babieyangyang10 · 5 years ago

Text

violent ends (chapter 11)

(chapter 11)

series masterlist

genre: hunger games!au

pairings: huang renjun x oc, na jaemin x oc

warnings: language, death, description of injuries, hallucinations, important character death,

previous | next

Athena's POV

It was quick the way he died. Before Haechan fell forward, his left eye cried tears of blood. There was nothing on his face, no acknowledgement or realisation of what just occurred. No evidence of any previous life in his face.

Just nothing.

People always say that your entire life flashes before your eyes once you die. However, there was not even enough time for that. No time to remember the eighteen years he once lived. He was just gone.

Mark Lee and I sprung forward. Once the corpse was thrown off him, Mark lifted up Jisung from the water. The young boy bent over and began coughing up the water in his lungs.

Once he finished, you could tell the reality of what just happened to him was sinking in. Frantically looking around, he saw Haechan laying face-down in the water, blood flowing out from his wound. Going pale, Jisung silently grabbed the body and flipped him over. He ripped his hand away and would've screamed if it wasn't for my hand covering his mouth.

Not used to injuries, Jisung was practically hyperventilating at the site of my throwing knife lodged in one of the body's lifeless eyes,

"Jisung, it's okay. Don't look at it." I brought my hand down and closed the remaining eye, thinking it would help. It didn't.

"Oh my god. What did you do?!" Jisung was about to throw up.

Mark looked around nervously, before saying, "She saved you. Quick, let's go." He grabbed the distressed boy's arm and pulled him to his feet.

After we had gotten a good distance away, I could hear the cannon go off.

"That could've been me." Jisung mumbled to himself in disbelief. He looked really bad. Almost as if he could go off the deep end any second. I mean, the kid has came to the brink of death twice in the span of only two days.

Trying to lighten his spirits, I suggest, "You're a lucky kid, aren't you?"

He considers my words before murmuring, "Yeah, I guess so."

Chenle's POV

I think I'm the unluckiest kid in the world, right now.

As the Careers and Jaemin start yapping away, I take this opportunity to look around the tree for something to help us escape. Alarmed, I look around where Jaemin is perched to see a raccoon sized nest. Swaying gently, I peek around to discreetly get a better look. Immediately, the bright gold body captures my eye.

No, these aren't just any wasps, they're tracker jackers.

Made in the Captiol's labs, they were placed directly in the districts during the war. Tracker Jackers were named according to their ability to 'track' down and hunt anyone who comes into contact with them. If they bite you, most likely you'll die. Even if you don't, most people will go mad from experiencing the hallucinations from the venom.

Our options are: we let Haechan come back and kill us or possibly die from these creatures. Reaching behind Jaemin, I discreetly began sawing away at the limb carrying the nest with my knife. Both Jaemin and the people below were too wrapped up in the conversation to notice what I was doing.

I kept sawing back and forth. Suddenly, a tracker jacker came calmly out of the nest. Holding my breath, I watch as it walks onto an unaware Jaemin's hand. Unable to warn him, I just speed up as quick as I can. More and more tracker jackers began leaving the nest to check out what was happening. Back, forth! Back, forth! Another jacker lands on Jaemin's shoulder.

Then there was a cannon.

The nest fell down right after. I could hear Jaemin yelp, however, I just pulled him out of the tree and bolt. I could hear the two Careers yelling above the buzzing from the army of angry wasps.

Once we've ran far from the chaos, I stopped to check on Jaemin. Right away, I noticed the plump-sized lumps on his neck and hand.

"I'm Jaemin," He slurs, "Nice to meet you, sir."

Oh my god.

Jaemin squints his eyes, trying to focus, "I have to admit. I've never met a three-headed, green person before. Are there others like you?"

It was almost dark, we have to get home, now. I grab him and began running again. Once we get to camp, I spot Mark, Athena, and Jisung all sitting down.

"Jaemin, got stung by tracker jackers!" I'm out of breath. Lee Athena immediately runs over to us, stopping in front of the disoriented boy.

"Athena, is that you?" His eyes are excited, but confused. The girl grabs his hand and quickly removes the stinger and does the same to his swollen neck. Green pus seems out from the now orange-sized bumps.

"I think-" His eyes roll over to the back of his head and Athena barely manages to catch him before he falls to the ground. Mark runs over and helps her carry him into the shack.

The next day, she took care of him. Every few hours, she would grind up a special leaf to put on the wounds.

She knew a lot about the wilderness. While Mark stayed to watch Jaemin, she would take Jisung and I out to practice hunting. It was nice learning, especially since I have always felt bad for relying on Mark so much. Not only does he have to take care of himself, but he also has to make sure two, weak kids don't die as well. After capturing a rabbit this morning, I felt happy knowing I got to help ease the pressure, even if it's just small.

"Good job, Chenle." He praised, making my heart swell. We were all sitting around the fire.

"I bet I'll get a even bigger one tomorrow." Jisung challenged, making us all chuckle.

Eventually, the conversation led to us talking about living in our different districts.

"Yeah, I swear all District 10 has is cows and desert. Although, I got to grow up with a lot of different animals, which was really fun." I explained.

"I wish I could see a desert, but we have that fence keeping us in District 11. Growing up, a lot of us had to climb trees in the orchards for fruit, which could be pretty fun. Although, it wasn't fun when you'd occasionally run into the tracker jackers." Jisung winced in remembrance.

"At least you guys have the orchards, District 12 is really small. When you turn eighteen, you work for the coal mines. Food is pretty hard to get also. To get grain and oil, I had to enter my name into the Reaping about forty times." We all gasped aloud at Mark.

"I have a question that I've always wanted to ask," Jisung announced, "I've seen District 12 do that think with the three fingers so many times. What does it actually mean?"

"It's been around forever, I guess. It's a sign of love and respect to show thankfulness for someone or something. Sometimes we use it to say goodbye. That's what everyone did to me, when I left after the Reaping." Mark explained to him.

Jisung kissed his three fingers and held them up in the air, "Well, I love and respect all of you."

All four of us, Mark, Jisung, Athena, and myself, giggled and did the salute to each-other before heading off to sleep.

Athena's POV

It's now been two days, since Jaemin has first been stung. The swelling has gone completely down, however, he still has a bit of a fever and hasn't woken up.

The most nerve wracking part is that, until he wakes up, I can't feed him anything. I can't even give him water to drink. It's not like real life, where he would have a feeding tube. Even we were alone, we barely got anything to eat. Gosh, it really is so easy to die of hunger in here.

Today, the boys wanted to show off their new hunting skills to Mark. So, it was just Jaemin and I at the camp. Apart from Haechan, none of the other Careers have shown up in the sky so far. So, I have no idea if Renjun is the same way as Jaemin. However, his health shouldn't be of my concern, anyway.

Since they are just two members now, Mark and I have been discussing an attack on them. After he snuck to their territory, he saw that they have pilled up all the supplies. Protecting them are random mines, which, if you stepped wrong, could easily blow you up to pieces.

Instead of risking stepping on a mine by trying to fight them directly, we thought we should find a way to blow up the pile of supplies. That way, they'll starve themselves out.

Suddenly, I notice Jaemin stir. His eyes are confused and wide. He looks around his surroundings, before he sees me next to him.

"Athena!" His voice is excited and relieved, yet weak. His hand shoots out to grab mine.

I sigh, "You've been out for two days, you know."

"Are you serious?" He looks around again, "Wait, where are we?"

"We're at Mark's camp. Chenle brought you back." I said, knowing he probably doesn't remember anything.

I hear a pleasant beeping noise, which makes me nearly burst with happiness. Near our feet, a box drops. Inside is a container of warm soup and a spoon.

Knowing he was still in bad shape, I grab the spoon and scooped up some soup to feed to him. Smiling, he accepted the food. His eyes shut in delight, finally getting to eat a real meal.

He happily suggests, “You should eat some."

I know he hasn’t eaten for two whole days. This makes me feel warm, knowing that, even though he’s literally starving, he would still offer me it.

"I think Jisung and Chenle would kill me if I didn't eat what they catch,” I laugh before getting serious, “Besides, you really need it right now."

He’s disappointed, but still continues eating.

Concerned, I ask, "So, are you doing okay? I mean those hallucinations can be really messed up."

"I mean, apart from the trees turning into blood and thinking ants were eating me, I'm fine. Especially, since your here now." Jaemin laughs.

I shake my head, smiling at the ground.

"I mean it, though. I felt so bad after I lost you. If I had known you stopped, I would've gone back for you, Athena,” He stops me, “You know that right?"

"Well, I did have your supplies." I point out.

He provides clarity, "Supplies or not, you're still a priority to me. That's just not even a question at this point."

I felt a deep pang in my chest. There’s so many things I want to say. On instinct, with both of my palms, I hold his face in my hands,"If there wasn't cameras on us right now, I would-"

Jaemin breathes out, "Who's stopping you?"

His eyes darted down to my lips, then back up to my eyes. I checked his face to see if there was any hint of joking, yet his eyes were filled with warmth. It occurred to me that he was feeling the same need and want that I was. Like if I were in a black hole, I felt myself being pulled closer and closer into him.

"Hey Athena, look what I caught—oh,uh?"

Jisung, stares in shock, at the close proximity between Jaemin and I's faces.

I jump up, brushing myself off, "Come on, kid. Let's go see it."

Jisung brought me outside to see Mark and Chenle by the fire.

“Jaemin is awake.” I announced to the two boys.

“That’s really good.” I could tell Chenle had felt guilty about him getting stung.

Mark proposed, “Well, today I was thinking that we should go destroy the supplies.”

Chenle eagerly asked, “Can I help?”

“Well, I guess you could help us by starting fires with me to lead them away from the Cornocopia.” Mark turned to Jisung, “Jisung, could you stay with Jaemin?”

“What’s going on?” Jaemin popped his head out of the shack.

“We’re going to destroy Jeno and Renjun’s supplies.” I caught him up.

His eyebrows are furrowed, “Are you going?”

“Of course.” I nod, plainly.

After we ate, I headed into the shack to get my backpack. On the ground, Jaemin was looking up at me unhappily, completely different from how he usually looks at me.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s just,” He sighs, “every time we’re separated, something bad always happens.”

“Well, you still need to rest, besides I’ll have Mark with me.” I lie. Mark will be separated from me, but I didn’t want to stress him out.

“You better come back. I’m serious.” He deadpans.

“Okay, Na Jaemin.”

I brush his hair out of his face. He’s not aware, but I can’t help but thinking the way he’s looking at me reminds me of a lost puppy, “I mean it.”

“I know.” I smile.

Then, Mark, Chenle, and I began heading towards the Cornocopia. As we’re walking, I notice Mark fiddling with something on his jacket.

“What’s that?” I ask, intrigued.

“It’s a mockingjay pin.” He states. The pin contained the small golden bird with an ring around it. It’s connected to the ring only by its wing tips.

Mockingjays were the result of a failed project by the Capitol to spy on the rebellious districts. Because of this, they have become a symbol for the rebellion. It’s almost as if they are rubbing it in the Capitol’s faces.

“I like it,” I beam up at him, “It suits you.”

“I think so too. It’s cool.” Chenle gushes.

Mark blushes before coming to a stop, “This is where we separate. Chenle, after I set the fire, wait a little before setting yours. That way they’ll think it’s real and definitely come to yours.

All alone, I hide beneath the trees as I come to a stop in front of the Cornocopia. Sitting to the right of the supplies, were a group of boys. Along with Jeno and Renjun, I spotted a boy from District 3. I’m assuming he’s Haechan’s replacement.

“Guy’s look!” Jeno points out. There, hidden in the tree’s, Mark has created a fire. The smoke created a cloud in the sky right above his position.

“Let’s go, Renjun. Guard the place, until we get back.” Jeno tells the young boy.

Once they’re gone, I grab into my backpack and pull out knife. Getting ready to throw, I rear back my hand.

However, from the left, a figure darts out from the woods. Avoiding the piles of buried mines, she is calculated and precise. From the pile, the red-head grabs an armful of supplies and runs past the District 3 boy.

As a result, he stood up and began chasing her into the woods. Perfect.

I scan the pile, looking for something I could knock down to trigger the mines. That way, I would be kept safe from the blast. At the very top is a bag of bright red and green apples.

Taking a deep breath, I throw a knife as hard as I can. It manages to make a rip in the bag, but not big enough for the fruit to fall through.

So, I grab another one. I calm myself down, before I launch my second one. Almost in slow motion, I watch as an single apple drops from the fresh hole. Rolling forward, it halts on top of one of the piles.

One after the other, all of the mines are triggered. Before I can react, I am thrown back by the incredible force. I can feel ash and debris raining down on my head. In my head and ears, I can hear a sharp buzzing. With my fingers, I could feel blood coming out of my left ear.

Running back from the woods, Renjun and Jeno meet the District 3 boy in the middle. I was able to see if Jeno had even said anything. Although, even over the buzzing, I could hear the crack of the boys neck after Jeno snapped it.

Alarmed, I run back into the woods to hide. Blinking, I could feel my sight and hearing slowly coming back.

“Help!” I hear a young voice. Wow, that was quick. The Careers already found another victim.

“Mark! Athena!”

Chenle!

I run, following the shouts. Not even caring if I was about to run face first into a planned trap. His shouts continue and I feel can feel the quick tempo of my heart.

When I force my way into a clearing, I spot the young boy entrapped in a net on the grown. He stops struggling and smiles in relief when he spots me in front of him.

However, it fades when the arrow lodges straight into his chest.

To my left, I look just in time to see Mark shoot an arrow into the neck of the other District 12 tribute. Using my knife, I quickly cut Chenle free from the net. Mark runs over, propping him up in his arms. Blood is seeping through his shirt. I look up at Mark, giving him a telling look.

“Is it bad?” He doesn’t have enough strength to look down. I don’t know what to say.

“I never imagined I would go like this.” His voice is shaky, but knowing.

The cannon for the District 12 girl goes off.

Chenle reaches for my hand, “Please, don’t leave me.”

With my free hand, I wipe some of his tears, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Did you blow up the supplies?” His voice is in a hopeful whisper.

“All of it.” He smiles at this.

Looking up at Mark and me, Chenle breathes out, “Thank you both. For protecting me. Even in these circumstances, these past days have been some of the best days of my life thanks to you.”

I feel my throat become choked up. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to get attached to these people, who are supposed to be my competition. But I did and I don’t regret any of it for a damn second.

There’s fear in his eyes, “You two, don’t forget me, okay?”

“Never.” Mark and I say.

Then he’s gone.

It takes a few minutes for it to sink in for the two of us. For us to realize this boy, who was speaking a few minutes ago and laughing with us yesterday, was gone forever. I look up to see Mark distraught with the same realisation, “It’s not fair. He was just a kid.”

“I can’t just leave him here. He deserves better than that.” I agree with Mark’s words. Looking around, I spot violet, blue, and white wildflowers. I began loading my arms up with the flowers. With Mark’s help, we placed the flowers all around him.

How dare they. It’s shameful that they would do this to an innocent child. Not just him, but all of us children.

Placing my arm on his shoulder, I try to comfort Mark. Like a switch going off, he bursts into tears. I know it has been hard, the weight of caring for three people. I wrap him in my arms and cry with him.

It’s only before we leave does he turn around suddenly. After kissing his three fingers, he held them out in his direction. Myself doing the same, we both say goodbye to our friend, Chenle.

#nct dream smut #nct dream imagines #nct smut #nct dream #nct au #nct #renjun #haechan #jaemin #jeno #mark lee #chenle #jisung

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harrywritingsbyme · 4 years ago

Note

TW:\\ Physical abuse

Okay baby thank you so much for letting me talk to you 🥺 I feel like I can’t tell my friends this or any adults around me so I’m like stuck and I need an opinion, I’m gonna give you a background story so I’m sorry in advance for it being so long...

A month ago I got a puppy and he’s the love of my life 🥺🥰, a couple of weeks ago I went to clean my grandmas house with my mom and we got back home pretty late in the evening. I noticed my dad was really irritated and mad but I just stayed out of the way because him and I already don’t have a good relationship to start with. We got food and stuff and I was sitting with my mom at our island when my puppy got up on the couch where my dad was sitting, my dad doesn’t want my puppy getting up on the couch so like whenever he gets up there I’ll take him off but I was just really hungry cause I hadn’t eaten all day so I didn’t even really notice and just kept eating when my dad proceeded to grab my puppy and literally throw him across the floor like a bowling ball, my eyes literally bulged out of my head like 🤯 I couldn’t comprehend he just did that. I asked him if he was crazy and he told me to watch myself. My dumb puppy 🤦🏻‍♀️ decided it was a good idea to climb up on the couch again and I was still in the kitchen so I couldn’t move fast enough to get him off of the couch so my dad proceeded to grab him again and this time threw him so hard across the floor he was like spinning, but it wasn’t a delicate throw both times he threw him like he was a literal bowling ball and I was literally baffled like I couldn’t believe what I was seeing and right in front of my mom and my little brother. And my mom said absolutely nothing she was just staring???? So I proceeded to ask him again if he was crazy, this time way more irritated. He got up came after me grabbed my sleeve (he’s careful not to grab my arm anymore because once he did and he left a very big noticeable purple mark cause I’m really white and I bruise easily) and he started dragging me to my room telling me to respect him. I then went back to the living room and I grabbed my puppy and I told my dad to not touch me again. He then really grabbed me and he got all up in my face screaming at me and he threatened to slap my face. He took my phone from me ( I think it’s cause he was scared I’d call someone) so I really was left with nothing to do. He used to abuse my mom when I was younger so I’ve always been afraid of that so I started shaking and hyperventilating, I was having an anxiety/panic attack. Anyways my mom came to comfort me and she fought with him and stayed with me that night. And then the next day he had the audacity to call a “family meeting” and proceeded to apologize for his disgusting behavior yet he said we all contributed to what he did and he said I haven’t been showing him respect and all this bullshit and he said he had to control himself to not hit me the day before, he also told me to not say he can’t touch me because he most definitely can hit me. What pissed me off most is that my mom agreed that I’m disrespectful and that he made good points?!?? He literally said he can slap me across the face. Now my question is, could he really slap me and get away with it? I’m scared one day I’ll do something to trigger his anger even though I try my best not to and he’ll actually hit me. Would that be considered abuse or if he said he was just “reprimanding” me would it be okay? I feel like if the cops knew about this especially with his past history of hitting my mom he’d be in trouble. Also what should I do if he takes my phone away again during a situation like that? I figured I could just run out of my house to a neighbors and ask them for help or something despite seeming crazy. I can’t stand the thought he got away with hitting my mom and he could possibly get away with hitting me. I really don’t know what to do in this situation and I really need someone’s help 🥺, if you or your anons have any ideas or suggestions please let me know... also my birthdays in November 😌. Thank you so much for listening to me Taylor I really needed to talk to someone about this besides my mom cause she just pushes me to forgive but I don’t think it’s right he thinks he can just hit me whenever. I’m sorry this was so long, I love you ❤️

Bbyyyyyy🥺🥺🥺🥺I’m so so so so so sorry that you’re going through all of this at home!!! No one, not you, not your mom, not even your puppy should have to go through all of that physical, verbal, and mental abuse. It s’so upsetting to hear all of this and how he’s conditioned your mom to just accept his vile behavior. I know it may be hard, but I’d rlly convince your mom to move you two away to stay with a family member until you two get on your feet and call the cops on your dad bc he has no right putting his hands on you and your mom. And the fact that he’s being careful about how he grabs you?!?! You and your mom deserve better and hopefully you two can get to a better place. Also, I rlly rlly hope your puppy is doing okay...no animal deserves that. He should be charged with assault on you and your mother and animal abuse. And then he has the nerve to apologize...disgusting. If you EVER need to talk, I’m here. You shouldn’t be going through all of this alone and you won’t bc I’m here. I’m so glad that I can provide an escape, even if it’s just a little one. But ilysm babes and I’m here for you and my inbox is always open🥺❤️😘

#asks #anonymous #tw

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imagine-loki · 5 years ago

Text

Ragnarok

TITLE: Ragnarok CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 4: All Hela Breaks Loose AUTHOR: traveling-classicist ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you take care Odin when he was homeless on Midgard (based on the deleted scene from Ragnarok). You take him in and listen his crazy stories about Asgard and Thor thinking he’s just some crazy hobo who needs help. Then one day, Thor and Loki break into your apartment looking for their father. Hela returns in your living room and insanity ensues. RATING: T (PLEASE READ THE NOTES)

AO3 Link: Here NOTES/WARNINGS: This chapter has some rather graphic depictions of violence and wounds. I know this can make some people squeamish so I thought I’d whack a warning in here, just in case.

“Get out of my house, or I will shoot you this time,” Theo shouted at Doctor Strange. “Hi Wong, how are you?” she added kindly, smiling at Strange’s friend. He smiled and bowed politely to her.

“Oooh, I would love to see you shoot him,” Loki said, stepping out of the way to stand behind her. “You know, I’m really starting to like you. Here, don’t let me get in the way. Go ahead, fire away.”

“Don’t get comfortable,” she spat at Loki. “You’re next.”

“Who gave you gun? Why do you have a gun?” Doctor Strange asked.

“For lunatics who break down my doors,” she shouted, waving the gun at Loki, who gracefully ducked out of the way. “Or assholes who teleport into my house without my permission! Oh my God, what am I saying?” She pointed the gun back at Strange.

Thor and Odin approached them. “Loki, we need to go,” Thor said. “Oh, hello Doctor Strange. We were just going.”

Theo glanced at Odin. He looked worried. She could see tear trails on his cheek. She lowered the gun and went to him. “Odin? Are you alright? What did he say? Do I need to punch him?” she asked, pointing at Thor. He took her hand.

“We must go now,” he said, looking up at her sadly. “Back to Asgard. We need to address this situation with Hela.”

“Who?” Loki and Strange asked in unison.

“Aren’t you paying attention, brother,” Thor sneered at Loki.

“Hela, your daughter?” Theo asked Odin, ignoring the others.

“Your what?” Loki shouted.

“We cannot discuss this now, Loki. We need to go back to Asgard. Quickly, before she breaks free and Ragnarok begins. I can feel it, she is close now.”

“Oh, yes, I do think it’s time for all of you to go if someone is coming to destroy you or us,” Doctor Strange said, herding them away like geese towards the door. “Not you,” he said, pushing Theo aside. She frowned at him and brandished the gun still in her hand, giving him a warning. “Thank you for stopping by. Please, do not come again,” he said, opening the door for them and gesturing for them to leave.

A sudden piercing noise rang out from somewhere near the ceiling. Theo grabbed her ears and held them, trying to block out the spine-tingling noise like a thousand nails on a chalkboard. She heard Odin cry out in pain and she straightened up, looking for him. Loki was holding him up, Thor standing close by. Near the ceiling in the living room, where the noise was coming from, a black, vortex-like portal was opening.

“What the hell is happening in my living room!” Theo shouted. “Strange! You better knock this off right now!”

“It’s not me,” he shouted back. Wong stepped past her to Strange’s side. They lifted their hands and in front of them. Orange, circular shields formed. Theo shook her head in disbelief. After everything that had happened to her in the last five years, how on earth could she actually be surprised by anything. Especially, after the two men had literally teleported into her living room.

She turned her attention back to Odin and his sons. She grabbed Loki’s arm and pulled him back. The three of them took several steps back, behind the magicians. Loki put Odin behind him and Thor. There was a flash of light and Thor and Loki adorned armor. Theo stood between the brothers and the wizards, holding her gun and wondering what on earth she was going to have to do to have a normal life again.

A woman materialized from the vortex in ragged black clothes. Her hair was black and pin straight. Her eyes dark, with even darker eye shadow and liner. To Theo, she looked like she’d just arrived back from a My Chemical Romance concert.

“Ahh, Midgard?” the woman breathed.

“Hela,” Odin said from behind Loki.

“What a stinking rathole for you to be hiding in, you old bastard,” she said.

“Hey, I just cleaned yesterday, but your siblings wrecked my living room!” Theo said, pointing her gun at her.

“Oh, and who is this? Your slave? Or your pet?” she scoffed.

“Roommate,” Theo said, finger steady on the trigger.

“Oh, you’ve fallen low, Odin. It’s almost pitiful. But if this is the place you’ve chosen to die, I won’t argue with you. Come out from behind that greasy son of yours.”

“Greasy?” Loki spat. Thor tried to stifle a chuckle. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re excused, little brother, now get out of my way!” She charged forward. Swords shot from her hands. She moved faster than lightning. Theo reacted instinctively, jumping and pulling the trigger, firing off three rounds into the woman’s face.

Each bullet hit its mark, tearing away chunks of flesh and bone. Hela broke away from her charge, tumbling over the couch, holding her face and letting out a howl of pain. Theo was hyperventilating. She stared at the gun in her hand as it trembled with fear and shock at what she had just done. The gun had always been there for protection, but she had never planned on actually shooting anyone.

The men in the room looked at Theo in shock.

“Well,” Loki said, shrugging. “That was much easier than I expected. Ragnarok diverted.”

Hela rose from the ground, kicking over the coffee table, sending books, apple tarts, and coffee flying in all directions.

“Brother, I think you spoke too soon,” Thor growled.

She removed her hand from her wounded face. Her right eye was white, blinded; the skin around it, scarred as if burned from the bullet wounds. The muscle and sinew of her jaw was exposed, showing her teeth and jawbone. The tissue began to necrotize and turn black before their eyes. Theo took a step back out of fear, her stomach turning at the sight of what she had done.

The movement sent Hela into the attack and she flew at Theo. Two swipes of Hela’s arms sent the men careening into the walls. She was on top of Theo in an instant, screaming and howling at her.

She wrapped her fingers around Theo’s neck and squeezed. The air was trapped in Theo’s lungs and she choked. Hela had her pinned to the floor, half smashed against the wall and the wood flooring. Theo’s gun skittered across the floor and landed a few feet away. Her hand flopped, frantically for it, as black spots began to appear in her vision. Hela squeezed harder, Theo heard tiny, crackling noises in her neck and a horrendous gurgling came from her mouth.

She abandoned her gun and tried desperately to peel Hela’s fingers away from her throat; scratching, hitting, punching, kicking, her; anything she could do to get her off her, but it was to no avail. Hela stood over her like a statue and her grip was like steel.

The men were still struggling on the floor. Thor was the first to his feet as Loki helped Odin. Thor threw his hammer as hard as he could at Hela’s back. She whipped around and with her free hand, caught the hammer. The hollow thud echoed through the apartment.

The hammer vibrated in Hela’s hand. Sparks rippled out from it, licking up her fingers and wrist. Cracks formed outwards from her fingers and a noise like metal being sheered pierced Theo’s eardrums.

“That’s not possible,” Thor squeaked.

The hammer vibrated faster, the cracks split wider, and the noise intensified. Hela did not remove her eyes from Thor. Theo, who was still under the iron-like grip of her other hand, was beginning to lose consciousness. She was beginning to panic. Her limbs felt heavy, her eyes felt like they were bulging out of her head.

In an instant, the hammer exploded, sending lightning and chunks of metal flying across the room. The windows in the kitchen shattered in a shock wave that felt like it shook the whole city block. The cabinet doors flew off their hinges. The furniture shattered and curtains shredded.

Theo could hear yelling in the hallway as one of her neighbors was trying to figure out what was going on. In the back of her mind, she hoped they just minded their own business on this one.

Her mind was beginning to shut down. She could no longer think straight. The others were regaining themselves from Thor’s hammer breaking into a thousand pieces, but Theo didn’t have time for them.

The pain in her neck was too much for her to bear any longer. With all her remaining strength, she kicked Hela as hard as she could. While it did not send her flying across the room as Theo had intended, it did get her hand off her throat long enough for her to turn over and stretch for her gun.

She made a lunge for it, but her hand flubbed over it, her mind unable to coordinate her fingers to grab it. Abandoning the instinct to fight, Theo tried to run. She put the rest of her energy into her legs and tried to scramble away from Hela. She stood over her, watching the pathetic mortal who had deformed her so flop about on the floor.

Hela kicked her over, bearing down on her with her sword. Theo’s eyes widened in terror at Hela. She closed her eyes. This was it. This was how it felt last time too. Time seemed to slow, and silence fell and once again, Theo wasn’t ready to go.

Loki cast a spell that knocked Hela back against the wall. Hela’s sword slashed across Theo’s chest, creating a long gash, diagonally across her torso. She cried out in agony at the pain that erupted through her body.

Hela turned and advanced on Loki, swords blazing in a green fire. Loki stepped backwards.

“Thor! Help me!” he shouted. “Lightning her! Do something!”

“I can’t!” Thor shouted back. “My hammer!”

Hela lunged at him. Loki conjured daggers and caught her sword in a cross above his head. She was strong. He could feel the heat of the flame on her swords. Something dripped from them, thick and black, like oil. It dripped onto his skin and burned through, revealing the muscles and tendons of his hand, down to the bone.

He cried out at the burn and let his dagger fall, stepping to the side to avoid the strike of Hela’s blade, holding his hand. He hissed at it as his skin boiled, leaving lesions and blisters in its wake around the epicenter of the ghastly wound.

“It’s poison,” he muttered. He looked up and she was striking at him again. She spun quickly round to continue her attack. He sidestepped once more and made a quick jab at her side. His dagger hit its mark: a rip in the fabric of her armor. She made no cry of pain, no flinch, nor effort to conceal the wound. It bled but she paid no heed. She swung wildly with her blade, but Loki ducked out of the way.

He waved his hand, creating a bright flash of light and loud bang to distract her. In her daze, he made several copies of himself around her and attacked all at once. She spun in a circle, releasing swords in all directions, striking several of the Lokis and making them disappear. Loki could feel twinges of pain at their deaths. Strange and Wong blocked some of the swords from hitting Thor, Odin, and Theo with small force fields.

Loki rolled out of the way of the sword meant for the real him. He had to think of something else. Hela was too clever, and this was too small a space with too many morons in it for them to fight properly.

“Strange!” Loki shouted. “Open one of your portals to the empty dimension! Make her fall through!”

Doctor Strange moved his hands in a circular motion and a portal opened beneath Hela’s feet. She screamed as she began to fall. She made a last ditch lunge at Loki with her sword as she fell through the floor and the portal closed up behind her.

Theo was gasping on the floor. She felt an eerie, coldness permeating through her body. Her back arched as waves of a burning pain washed over her like fire lapping at her skin. Spasms of electric-like shock wracked her muscles, causing her to convulse on the floor. The pain radiated from her chest. She looked down. She could see the blood and the wound, but she could not feel it. The wound felt numb, but the rest of her body was filled with its pain. She screamed but the effort made her head spin.

Loki ran to her side and knelt, examining the wound on her chest and comparing it to the wound on his hand. Strange was right behind him.

“Move,” he said, pushing Loki away from Theo. He turned Theo over. “I’m going to pull up your shirt, Theo. Please, don’t punch me this time,” he said.

“No,” Theo begged as she rolled side to side in pain. “Please,” she moaned.

Strange lifted her torn sweater, revealing the long gash. Her abdomen was littered with other older scars; one rather large, star-shaped scar covering the lower right side of her torso. She struggled to pull her shirt back down but Strange held her. Loki’s eyes widened at Theo’s battle scars. He straightened up and turned to Thor.

“Thor, you stupid oaf! What was that?” he shouted, picking up what was left of Mjolnir’s handle and throwing it at Thor. It hit his chest and bounced off him. Loki shapeshifted into an image of Thor and mocked him. “’Oh no! My special hammer’s broken! I can’t do anything anymore! I’m just a weak little boy! I’m just gonna sit here and watch my crazy sister kill my dear brother! Maybe I’ll have a spot of coffee and an apple tart while he bleeds out!’”

He turned back into himself and grimaced at Thor who was fuming, ready to tear Loki to shreds. Odin stopped the two of them, putting his hands on their chests before they could go at each other. His eye was on Theo who was moaning and crying on the floor, clearly in agony from the wound she had received from Hela.

Strange and Wong were trying to hold her still to examine the wound. The gash was not fatally deep, but it was bleeding badly and parts of it had already become infected as if it were days old. Strange was confused.

Before his eyes, the tissue began to necrotize and die around the edges of the wound, turning gangrenous and then black. Theo moaned with pain. Her hand searched for something to hold. Odin knelt beside her and took her hand and held it.

“I don’t wanna go… no,” she whimpered. “It hurts. Too much.”

“It’s a poison,” Loki said, holding up his own hand to show Strange. The poison on Hela’s blade had burned away Loki’s skin to reveal the tendon and bone of his right hand. The tissue around it was blackened as if dead. “You won’t be able to deal with it here on Midgard. She’ll have to come back to Asgard with us, if she’s to live.”

“Loki,” Odin breathed, seeing his injured son. Loki paid him no heed.

“She is not leaving this planet,” Strange said, not looking up at Loki.

“She’ll die, then,” Loki retorted.

“She is a citizen of earth, and she will not be leaving with a hostile force like you.”

“Thor’s here,” Loki said, gesturing to his brother who was kneeling over the broken pieces of Mjolnir. “He’s not hostile. Just tell whoever that she went with Thor. I don’t care. If she stays here. She’s dead.”

“I don’t want to be dead,” Theo whimpered, deliriously. “Please.”

Loki stared at Strange, searching for his answer. Theo did not have much time. There was a pounding on the door.

“Police, open this door!” someone shouted.

“Nope, we don’t have time for your indecision. I thought you were a doctor,” Loki said. “Bring us back, now! Leave the silly magicians.”

“EXCUSE ME!” Strange roared as the room was filled with rainbow colors.

Bifrost opened. Loki picked Theo up. He hoped she would survive. Strange made a move for them but was blown away by Bifrost. They were picked up and thrown into the rainbow bridge, careening through space. The gate opened on the other side and they materialized in Asgard. Theo was barely alive in Loki’s arms.

“I need a skiff, now!” Loki ordered. A flying boat-like vehicle arrived almost immediately, and Loki put Theo inside.

“Loki, where is Heimdall?” Thor asked.

“Not now, you idiot,” Loki replied.

Odin was helped in by two Einherjar and Thor stepped in as well, doing his best not to strangle his brother in front of everyone. They flew to the palace and Theo was quickly taken inside to the Healing Room.

“Healers!” Loki addressed several women in the room as he entered, carrying Theo. “This woman is Midgardian. She has been struck with a poisoned Asgardian blade. I don’t know what the poison is, but it’s killed the tissue around the wound.”

“Oh dear,” one woman said. “Put her in the soul forge, sire. We’ll try to stop it’s movement through her body.”

Loki placed her on the table and the healers started the forge. Theo was awake but confused and delirious. What she saw around her did not make any sense. The table she was laying on suddenly came alive and golden clouds formed above her in shapes that looked eerily like her own body.

She had been drifting in and out of consciousness until now. Her whole body felt like it was on fire. Her chest felt as if it had been cleaved open by a chainsaw in a horror movie. Her head spun with the pain.

The shapes above her billowed and undulated as if moved by an unfelt breeze or wave. Her eyes could not focus well on them, but she thought she could make out a darker colored cloud floating somewhere around where her chest was.

Loki watched the soul forge and the healers do their work. The forge had picked up on the poison and was able to halt its movement in Theo’s body but could not identify nor neutralize it. At least with the poison stopped, the healers could have a better look at the wound. They removed her shirt, much to her distress. She fought back with what little strength she had left.

“Try to relax, Theo,” Loki said. “They’re trying to help.”

“Don’t tell me to relax, you bastard,” she hissed.

“Clearly, she’s not as far gone as I feared,” Loki said flatly.

He looked at the healers and nodded gently. They turned a switch on the forge and Theo’s limbs fell limp.

“I can’t move!” she said. “What did you do to me!”

“It’s by design,” Loki said, calmly. “So, you don’t hurt yourself or anyone else. Like I said, just try to relax and let them do their work.”

They continued to remove her clothing and clean the wound. Loki’s attention fell to the star-shaped scar on her lower abdomen. He knew the mark: a blast from a Chitauri weapon. His mind was filled with flashes of memory too fast for him to catch. He could hear the Chitauri battle cries and weapons blasting, he could hear people dying and buildings falling, he could hear the Avengers rallying. He shook his head, violently.

Thor stepped up beside his brother and addressed the healers, pulling Loki’s attention away from Theo. “Did you call him ‘sire’?” he asked the healers. “You do know who he is, right? What he’s done?”

“Oh, of course, we do, dear. We’ve known for a while now.”

“You’ve what now?” Loki asked, surprised by the matron healer’s answer.

“We all know the Allfather was reaching his limits with the Dark Elves, what with the Queen’s death and yours – twice - and all that mess with Midgard. And then, for you to abdicate, we all thought it had been too much for you too to bear.

“Then, after all that, for Odin to suddenly take an interest in philanthropy over war and military, was, well, rather unlike him,” the healer explained to the brothers, while she worked on Theo’s wound.

“And then, there was the giant golden statue of you, sire, and the plays and the speeches and the epics and the books and the new libraries and theaters and amphitheaters. We started to put a few things together. The Council called a bit of a private meeting with palace staff about it, and we agreed that we were more prosperous this way, so we just let it be.”

Loki turned to his brother smugly and smiled. “Well, how about that?” Thor’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “Wait a minute. You knew and you let me walk around in that old man’s body for years? My back still hurts from being as old as him!” Loki said to her.

“Well, sire, that’s what you get for lying to us. We also agreed that was fair.”

“Right, well, next time we have another one of these ‘little meetings’, make sure I’m invited,” he said, winking at her. She giggled and shook her head.

Odin wandered up to the forge and gently laid his hand on Theo’s arm. It seemed to calm her a bit. She was weakening again from the pain and effort. Odin looked up at Loki and smiled.

“I like what you’ve done with the palace,” he said. “I was just admiring the drapes. Your mother would have like the color. Yellow was her favorite.”

“I thought they were gold,” Loki muttered. He turned back to the healer. “What are you finding?”

“This is a strange poison. I’ve never seen anything like it before. It is so fast acting,” she replied.

“Is it possible to get a sample from it?” Loki said. He turned to a guard. “You, go to the library. In the botany section there is an old tome under ‘Skarsgard’. It’s several millennia old so be careful with it. It’s called Ancient Poisons and Their Workings. Bring it to me, quickly,” he ordered. The guard scampered off.

“Sire, we may not have time to look up an antidote for her. Her mortal body will not be able to withstand this for much longer even with the forge’s help,” the matron said.

Loki turned back to the soul forge. Theo’s life signs were fading quickly. Loki picked at the palm of his hand. A nervous tick he’d picked up from his mother. His weight shifted from one foot to another.

“Try a regeneration ointment on her,” he said. The healers moved together, preparing Theo’s wound. The matron poured an ointment out of a bottle and rubbed it on the wound with a gloved hand. The wound began to heal but immediately died again. Loki shook his head, afraid that would happen.

“Try healing hands,” he said. “I don’t know the effects of these spells on mortals.”

“Myself, either, sire, but it’s worth a shot,” the matron said, casting the spell over Theo. As long as she kept the spell up, Theo’s wound healed and her life signs improved but as soon as she let it drop, the wound began to necrotize, and Theo diminished. Loki growled to himself.

“A healing stone,” he said. The matron powdered the stone in a mortar and pestle and sprinkled the dust over the wound. To Loki’s surprise the potency of the stone kept the poison at bay for far longer than the other remedies had, but soon he could see the wound beginning to infect again, turning red and white but at a far slower rate.

“That seemed to have worked better,” the matron said.

“We cannot waste too many stones, we have to find something more sustainable,” Loki said.

“What about Idunn’s apples?” Odin said, looking at Loki.

Loki considered Odin’s proposal. No mortal had ever been given one so it would either kill her immediately, give her immortality, heal her wound, or none of the above. It was worth a shot, Loki thought. He nodded at the matron.

The healer’s kept a basket of the apples on hand as they were useful healing items for Asgardians with minor wounds and injuries and other minor maladies. She sliced off a piece of one and fed it to Theo. Her life signs improved dramatically and the infection in the wound slowed.

“Alright,” Loki said. “Give her a little more until it heals the wound. Let’s see what happens.”

The matron continued to feed Theo pieces of the apple, but the healing process appeared to taper and plateau. The wound would not heal beyond a large scab on her chest before reverting back to an open, infected wound a few seconds after Theo had swallowed a bite of apple.

“Whatever that poison is, it won’t let her body heal,” Loki said. He looked at his own hand. He felt a little twinge in his own stomach at seeing his own bones. The pain was intense at the area of injury, but Loki was used to pain like this. He was more interested in the necrotized tissue.

“Are you hurt, sire? Were you cut by the same blade?”

“Yes,” he said, simply, hiding his hand from the healer. “Keep her fed with the apples whatever way you can and try to keep her comfortable. Give her something for the pain. Mandragora, poppydew, datura, something that’s not too strong. I’m afraid it might put her to sleep permanently,” he said. “Mortal composition is weird so do not give her very much of anything.”

Theo muttered something from the bed. Loki looked down at her and leaned closer. “No opioids,” she muttered. “Please, I can’t.”

“On second thought, no poppydew,” he said, straightening up again. “Try a teeny, tiny bit of datura. And don’t let her leave the Healing Room if she starts hallucinating.”

“Yes, sire, we’ll take care of her. But, please, let me see your hand,” the matron said, grabbing his hand before he could turn away.

“No—, matron, I’m fine, please,” he said, trying to pull away.

“Shush, let me look,” she said. “I’ve never seen anything like this before. You must be in excruciating pain.”

“Really, I’m fine,” Loki said, he pulled away, but she pulled him and walked him to a counter with healing supplies.

She applied a healing stone powder to it which eased the pain and healed it somewhat. His skin did not immediately die again as Theo’s had so his healing factor was an advantage, but it still did not heal completely. The healer gently wrapped his hand in silken bandages, taking care with his hand and fingers. He winced a little when she tightened the bandage but quickly regained himself.

“I know why you’re acting this way,” she said, leaning in close to him and gesturing with her eyes back towards Odin. “You’re no use to us injured or sick so let us help you too.”

Loki smiled and nodded at her. “Thank you, matron,” he said, sincerely. “We’ll work on finding out what this poison is, just keep the mortal girl here, please.”

Loki turned back to Thor and Odin. One of the healers had given Odin a cane for him to lean on. He did appear weaker than before. He looked about as if it were his first time in the palace. Occasionally, he would look down at Theo and squeeze her hand, gently, then go back to aimlessly looking around.

Loki led Odin and Thor to the council chambers. Odin plopped down in the King’s seat out of habit. Loki walked up behind him and cleared his throat. Odin looked up at him, smiled, and moved over to Loki’s old seat. Loki took his seat at the head of the table.

“Now, Odin, tell me about Hela, I missed that part while we were on Midgard,” he said.

“Because you were flirting,” Thor muttered.

“I was not flirting!” Loki snapped. “I was cleaning up your mess as usual, brother!”

“Do you two always fight?” Odin asked them.

“Where have you actually been for the last fifteen centuries?” Loki asked him, sarcastically. “Now, would you care to explain this random other offspring you’ve locked away for several dozen centuries?”

Odin looked down, seemingly ashamed. He cleared his throat. His sons watched him as he shifted his weight in the chair.

“I have not always been honest with you, my sons,” he began. “Don’t interrupt me, Loki!” he snapped, as Loki took in a breath to make a snarky remark. He closed his mouth and let his father go on. “Asgard is not eternal. There was a time when it did not exist here. When it was not this,” he gestured to the fine palace around them.

“The Realms were not united. They were once chaotic and ungoverned. My ancestors sought for eons to bring about peace. We have succeeded but it was never a sturdy peace.

“When I was young, when your mother and I had first been married, when our peoples, the Vanir and Aesir, had been united, it was during one such unsettled and chaotic times that we had a daughter together: Hela.

“Perhaps, it was the chaos she was born into or my want for war to settle the peace, but I realized almost immediately the child’s aptitude for battle. Like she was made for it. I trained her for the battlefield. When she was old enough, she commanded my armies; fought by my side. And, together, we brought peace to the Realms.”

“By ‘brought peace’ do you mean, you bullied the Realms into a bloody submission to you?” Loki asked.

Odin raised his head to look at his son. “Say what you will,” he responded. “All successors judge their predecessors. I surely did my own father. And he his. But Hela’s appetite for war could not be sated with peace. She sought out battle wherever she looked. She wanted more than peace. More than I could ever give her. She wanted the universe in her hand.

“When I could not give her that, she attacked Asgard, her own people. I sent in the Valkyrie to stop her, but she slaughtered them all. I conjured all the dark magicks that I could, and I locked her away in Niflheim where I thought she would be safe, where Asgard would be safe from her.”

“In Hel,” Thor said.

“An echo of her own name, not it’s original,” Odin remarked. “It destroyed Frigga. She begged me to remove her memory of Hela so she would not suffer with the knowledge that she had helped create a monster. I thought I would lose her. It was never her fault. Hela was what I made her to be. Frigga wanted to do it herself, but it was far too dangerous.

“So, I removed her memories of Hela. It would be several centuries before we had another child,” Odin looked up at Thor, there was a tear in his eye for his beloved wife. It slipped down his cheek. He dropped his head, ashamed to be crying in front of his sons.

He went on, “It was foretold to me by Mimir that Hela would lead the charge at Ragnarok and kill me. And then destroy Asgard.”

“Mimir was insane,” Loki scoffed.

“He knew more than us all,” Odin said.

“Is that why you betrayed him? Because he was wiser than you?” Loki asked, darkly. Odin did not respond.

“Father, you’re the Allfather. There must be a way to stop her,” Thor said

“There is none.”

“Pfft, how Allfatherly of you,” Loki said, rolling his eyes. “So, how could she have escaped?”

“I do not know. Her cage in Yggdrasil was supposed to be impenetrable.”

“Perhaps, she had help, then,” Loki posited.

�� “Impossible. No one knew of her existence.”

Thor made an uneasy noise and Loki sneered at him. He enjoyed seeing his brother squirm at learning the truth after centuries of Odin’s lies.

“Well, clearly someone did,” Loki went on. “Someone who shares her interests, perhaps. There’s plenty of beings who would love to see Asgard go up in flames—” he trailed off, thinking of what Odin had said. “’She wanted the universe in her hand…’” he breathed, opening and closing his good hand on the table.

Loki stood so fast his chair tumbled over backwards. His face paled as white as snow, his eyes widening as if he’d seen a ghost. He ran out of the room with Thor hot on his heels.

“Brother, where are you going?” Thor asked. “Loki!”

He followed Loki through the halls of the palace. They descended several staircases. They were headed to the dungeons. Three guards walked up the stairs towards them, likely just getting off their guard duty.

“You three, with me,” he ordered. The stepped to and followed him.

They arrived at an unassuming door in the dungeons. Thor had never seen the door before. At least, he couldn’t really remember if he had.

“Loki, explain. What’s going on?”

Loki was ignoring him. He threw open the door. It led down a dark tunnel that Thor could not see the end of. Odin had just caught up with them. He watched Loki.

Loki gathered his seidr and moved his hands in intricate patterns in front of him. Green ribbons began to form woven Asgardian knotwork that he blew onto the door, magically sealing it. He flung the door shut and posted the two guards at it.

“Guard this door and ensure no one enters or comes from it, understand,” he said. The guards nodded.

Thor peered down the tunnel. He could feel magic in it that was for sure, but he could not place where it came from. He tried to concentrate on it. Magic was Loki’s thing; Thor had never really been good at it. It felt like it radiated a familiar energy, similar to the feeling Bifrost gave him when they traveled on it. The realization hit him. This door was one of the secret pathways through Bifrost that Loki knew.

“This door is to be added to the guard patrols, immediately,” Loki said to the third guard. “I want you to go to the guard barracks and summon High Commander Ingvild here at once.”

The guard nodded, genuflecting and rushing off back up the stairs.

“Ingvild? A woman?” Thor exclaimed. “Where’s Sven? I thought he was High Commander.”

“I cut off his head,” Loki said, flippantly, pacing back and forth.

“You what?! Are you mad! He was one of our best warriors! He trained us both!”

“He was plotting to kill you; do you know that?” Loki snapped. “Ensure you could never come back for the throne, overthrow our line, and take over. How would you like a giant hog as our new sigil, then? Huh? Why don’t you leave the ruling to me, brother?”

Odin chuckled. “A giant pig on our banner,” he laughed. “I always thought that man was off. He looked like a pig. You know his name meant pig?”

“This isn’t real,” Thor said, running his fingers through his hair. “I’ve gone mad. This place has gone mad.”

“Welcome home, brother,” Loki smiled, giving him the craziest face he could muster. “What’s the matter, brother? Is it mad to have a woman as High Commander?”

“Uh… no,” Thor blushed. “I just meant, uh… I was just surprised that… you know that I fully support female warriors and women… don’t look at me like that.”

Loki shook his head disappointedly at his brother as the guards gave him looks of discontent.

“Ingvild is an accomplished warrior,” Loki explained. “Crime has seen a massive fall since she took over and she rooted out all those pesky little corrupted council weasels for me. My first choice would have been Sif, of course, if she weren’t so eager to toss aside all her oaths for you, her one true love,” he bat his eyelashes at Thor. He was blushing nearly the color of his cape now.

And Ingvild is a good choice, I guess. I’m glad you haven’t cut off Sif’s head too.”

“Oh, believe me, brother, I wanted to more than once, but I refrained. You’ll thank me later. You can put all that mortal girlfriend business behind you. After you uphold your oath too. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

“Father, please, do something about this!” Thor said, gesturing to Loki.

“What am I going to do? I’ve been deposed,” he said, walking away from them. “He’s your king, now. You have to listen to him.”

Loki’s jaw dropped for a moment at Odin agreeing with him, but he took the opportunity to sneer at his brother. Thor’s fists clenched and he lunged at his brother. Loki put his hands up and the guards lifted their spears at Thor. He stopped short of strangling his brother, sparks arcing over his fingers.

“Ah, I wouldn’t do that,” Loki said. “They don’t like it when you get that close to me and neither do I, sparky.” He lowered his brother’s hands. “Ah, Ingvild, you have impeccable timing,” Loki said, addressing the woman descending the stairs. Thor growled at him but tried to control himself, dispersing the rest of his electricity into the air and making the guards hair stand on end.

#Loki #Lover #God of Mischief #Others #Submitted fic #submission #ragnarok #traveling-classicist #chapter 4

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somethingvaguetodo · 6 years ago

Text

Signals Crossed

It's hard to balance two identities, especially when you are trying to do it all on one phone. Read on AO3 here

EDIT: Now with a second part!!!

Ladybug sat on the roof of the Palais Garnier waiting for Chat Noir to arrive for patrol. She was in the second minute of her deep breathing exercises when her yo-yo chimed with an incoming message.

Her eyes flew open to read Alya’s response. Unsatisfied with what it said, Ladybug chewed her lip as she thought about how to answer.

Marinette was having a crisis. Exactly 36 minutes earlier, she had received a text message from Adrien Agreste. The message read:

Hey Marinette! I have a photo shoot scheduled for Saturday and I just spoke to Père. He said it’s okay if you want to come along! Are you still interested?

In her panic, Marinette had screenshot the message and forwarded it to Alya, who told her to respond immediately and accept. Marinette, however, knew it was better to wait to respond so that she didn’t look desperate. Alya’s disagreement had continued past the time she needed to leave for patrol, so she was continuing the conversation from the rooftops.

I want him to think I’m cool and I have a life Answering in a minute does not show him that at all

Ladybug pressed the M icon at the top of her screen and sent both messages.

A few months ago, she and Chat had been playing around with the settings on their communicators when they discovered this capability. Chat was hoping to find a way to connect to Wi-Fi so he could start an official Chat Noir Twitter, but instead found a way to add another phone number to send and receive calls and messages. She had jumped at the chance to merge her two phones, but Chat didn’t.

“Honestly, m’lady, I love that you are the only one who can contact me when I’m transformed,” he had said with a wink.

Marinette had rolled her eyes and immediately added her civilian phone number. It made it a lot easier to cover herself and back up her excuses if she could contact Alya and her parents when transformed. All she had to do was be careful to choose the correct sender - Marinette, not Ladybug - when contacting them. Tikki had been nervous about the potential for making a mistake but Marinette knew better. Tikki was wise, but she was also old, and knew nothing about technology.

Marinette grew up with phones, computers, and tablets. She had this handled.

Alya had responded: It’s been what, a half hour? That’s long enough M

Ladybug rolled her eyes, but had to admit that Alya was right.

Chat Noir touched down beside her as she was typing her response to Adrien.

“One second, Chat. I’m making plans for the weekend.”

Chat groaned, and sat down beside her. “See this was why I didn’t like this, Ladybug. I’m trying to figure out my weekend plans too but I left my phone at home and will see later if my friend answered.”

Ladybug refused to look at him until she finished typing. “That’s good for you, Chat.”

Hey Adrien!!! I’d love to come to the shoot!! x

She sent it to Alya to make sure it sounded casual enough before copying it into a new message to Adrien. Alya’s response to add a kissing emoji went unacknowledged.

Ladybug reread the message twice to make sure there were no spelling errors. She made sure there were a different number of exclamation marks after each sentence so Adrien didn’t think she was strange or overenthusiastic.

Once she was sure it was perfect, she looked up at Chat and pressed send.

“Done!” she announced with a smile.

Despite his exasperation, Chat smiled back. “Excited for those plans?”

“Yes!” Now that she had finally sent the message, Ladybug could feel the excitement overriding the anxiety. “Oh, Chat, this is going to be amazing! I’ve literally dreamed of this happening but didn’t think it ever actually would!”

Chat’s smile faded. “Ladybug, do you have a date?”

Ladybug’s eyes widened in surprise. “What? No!” Then she thought about it. “Well, I guess it could maybe be thought of as a date...” She trailed off, the anxiety coming back. She grabbed hold of Chat’s arm and squeezed it tight. “Oh gosh, Chat, do you think he thinks it’s a date?!”

He studied her closely, oddly serious. “Would that make you happy?”

Ladybug nodded rapidly. “Very happy.”

“Well in that case,” Chat said, “I hope he does think it’s a date.” At Ladybug’s surprised look, he chuckled. “I just want you to be happy, LB.” Ladybug felt herself warm up, a blush dusting her cheeks. Chat’s smile turned mischievous. “Besides, I know we’re endgame. This will be a fun story to tell our grandkids one day.”

Ladybug rolled her eyes and shoved him. “Come on you crazy cat.” She pushed herself off the roof to stand, tossing out her yo-yo and pulling the string taunt. “Race you to L’Arc de Triumph.”

Chat Noir dove through his bedroom window, releasing his transformation as he went and landing in a forward roll on the floor. Plagg spiraled out of his ring, moaning for cheese. Adrien picked himself up and walked to the bed, collapsing on his back.

He still had to complete a chemistry worksheet, shower, and change before going to sleep, but he could afford to rest for a few minutes. He picked up his phone from where it was charging on his nightstand and scrolled through his notifications.

There were a number of unread text messages, but he looked for Marinette’s name first. Adrien was disappointed to see that she hadn’t responded to him yet. He was really hoping that she would come this Saturday to his photo shoot.

He went to respond to Nino when he noticed one new message from a number he didn’t recognize. In fact it wasn’t a normal number at all.

0000M0000C0000 SMS message

Convinced that it was a scam or robo-message, Adrien ignored it in favor of answering Nino.

After sending a message, he swiped out of Nino’s thread, intending to check and make sure his message to Marinette went through. On the main page of his message app, however, he could read the beginning of the message from the unknown number.

0000M0000C0000 Hey Adrien!!! I’d love to come to...

Adrien looked at it, chewing his lip as he decided what to do. It was clearly from someone who knew his name, but a scam could have found that out. If it was a scam, it would be better to ignore it. But it could also be something important, or something Nathalie or Père scheduled that he would get into trouble for ignoring.

Deciding the curiously would kill him if he didn’t look, Adrien opened the message.

Hey Adrien!!! I’d love to come to the shoot!! x

The message sounded like it came from Marinette. He was expecting a response from her about a photo shoot, and she often signed her messages with an x.

But unless Marinette bought a new phone with an unconventional number, it couldn’t have been from her.

Something about the number was bothering him, and he took another look.

It wasn’t so much a number as a string of zeros and two letters. He doubted it was coming from a phone. Maybe an IP address? Or an e-mail? One of his fathers’ colleagues had tried to send an e-mail to his phone number and it came out strange.

Deciding to find that old message, Adrien scrolled back through his thread, watching names pass by before something caught his attention.

0000M0000D0000

He pressed it. It was a series of unanswered messages, but Adrien recognized them all. They were reminders he had sent himself: things he had to do before going to bed, homework that was due the next day, people he was supposed to reply to. But he had sent them all from Chat Noir’s baton communicator.

Adrien’s heart was pounding, but the conclusion he was jumping to couldn’t possibly be correct.

“Plagg,” he called out, and the kwami appeared with a wedge of Camembert clutched in his paws. “Can you take a look at this?”

Plagg floated over, and Adrien switched back to the message from 0000M0000C0000.

“Could this be from Ladybug?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light.

Plagg glanced at the screen and shrugged. “You know I don’t understand all of your computer stuff,” he whined.

Adrien fiddled with his phone, trying to decide what to do. He finally gave in to his impulses.

“Plagg, claws out!”

Chat Noir sat on his bed, cross-legged, and took out his baton. He opened the messaging app. There were only six conversations: Ladybug, Queen Bee, Carapace, Rena Rouge, his cell phone, and the one time he tried to message Hawkmoth only to discover that he had deactivated that feature.

He clicked on Ladybug’s. There were a series of important messages about akumas and patrols, jokes, and silly memes usually sent by Chat. He navigated to her contact card.

Her face smiled out at him, information below the photo.

Ladybug Miraculous 0000M0000C0000

Chat stopped breathing.

He held his phone up beside the baton and compared the numbers to make sure they were exactly the same. They were.

He released his transformation with an exhale, his baton disintegrating from his hands. Adrien was left sitting on his bed, phone in one hand and frustrated kwami landing in the other.

“What was that for?” Plagg asked.

Adrien decided it would be best to logically present the data he had accumulated. “I got a message from a strange number, that I now can see is actually Ladybug’s yo-yo. The message was addressed to Adrien, which means that Ladybug knows me as Adrien. It was about coming to my photo shoot, and only Marinette would be sending me a message about a photo shoot.”

Plagg blinked up at him. “So?”

“So,” Adrien echoed, his voice calm and measured, “Marinette is Ladybug.”

They both let that statement sit between them for a moment. Then Adrien started hyperventilating.

“Marinette is Ladybug! How didn’t I notice that before? It’s so obvious! Ladybug is Marinette!” Adrien dumped Plagg unceremoniously onto his bedspread and leapt up, pacing the length of the room.

“So Ladybug sends a text to Adrien, but she thinks that she is Marinette sending a text to Adrien. But she isn’t, she’s actually Ladybug who is also Marinette who is texting Adrien who she doesn’t know is actually Chat Noir and was right next to her at the time.”

Plagg watched him. “Sounds about right.”

Adrien ignored him. “Ladybug isn’t interested in going out with Chat Noir, but Ladybug who is Marinette said that she wants the guy she was texting to think of their plans as a date. And Ladybug was texting Adrien.”

Adrien turned to Plagg, his hands tugging at his hair. “Which means Marinette wants to date Adrien, if I haven’t lost track,” Plagg finished for him.

Having reached the windows, Adrien rested his back against one and slid down to sit on the floor. “Which means Ladybug wants to date Chat Noir,” he said, a smile blooming on his face. “She just doesn’t know it yet.”

Adrien started laughing, and found he couldn’t stop. Now that the shock had worn off and the information was starting to sink in, he felt a little delusional. This couldn’t actually have happened, could it?

Plagg shook his head. “How are you going to tell her?”

Adrien thought about it, and suddenly a grin spread across his face. “This photo shoot is going to be fun.”

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #ladynoir #ladybug #chat noir #my writing

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