#control issues who stopped eating and never learned how to take up any space. and i get so fucking frustrated at every doctor i talk to

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[aft4rhours]

Hey guys! 🩷 Thank you so much for your asks and messages 🩷

Honestly I just wanna get something off my chest. Someone asked me if I'm leaving or using a new blog. Both? I made a new blog, but somehow the thought of coming back here still feels so uncomfortable. And I realised it's because I addressed and worked through the 'hate' part and all.

But... there is also an issue I have had with my own readers that I didn't expect to have.

Look, there is absolutely nothing wrong with having your kinks and all. My blog itself is pretty crazy.

But... it's fictional.

It seems not only 'haters' can't separate reality from fiction, but sometimes readers too.

There is a reason I have never called my blog a "kink blog" (again, nothing wrong with that!), but rather stuck to horror.

I have talked about this before but as my interest in darker shows and works grew, I wanted to write a horror story and I realised I had no idea how to, because I have spent all my life writing pg 13 romance and fantasy 😭

I wanted to get out of my comfort zone and challenge myself. So I jumped into deep waters with requests, hoping for inspiration, and for the first time tried writing horror AND smut.

I love storytelling, I love exploring new things in writing, so even though the smut part is so big on my blog, I always give my characters personalities and back stories (at least I try lmao) and dive into their mental state because... I love writing.

And I did always want my blog to be a safe space for everyone... but that's including myself.

And I feel like some people just.... I'm sorry I'm just gonna say it.

What do you mean you want a fic based on the The Burning Sun Scandal. WHAT DO YOU MEAN. 😭 What do you mean you want me to write about your cousin. 😭😭

Am I crazy??? That's a REAL tragedy, guys, and it's so fucking upsetting and disrespectful to the survivors. And no one even stops to think the author might be upset or triggered bc they're a survivor too or bc this is, again, A REAL TRAGEDY????

It's like watching murder on a screen. It doesn't affect you the same way a real life murder with a real victim would! But it might still be too upsetting or violent so warnings exist for that.

"Um you write non con that happens in real life too" absolutely. But I am not getting inspo from REAL CASES involving REAL PEOPLE and real trauma. The people, places, events, are MADE UP, and if any feelings or situations are inspired by experiences, they're MY OWN experiences, and even then my work is far from reality.

I am not glorifying Dahmer and writing smut about him ok?

😭😭😭

And the thing is we talked about this before and I thought I made that super clear on my blog, always.

If it wasn't before, then I guess this is the post I'm gonna have to pin somewhere.

I just... I expected this from the tea blog clowns, who are shocked a writer writes fictional non con but advocates for real victims 😭 Like you write about war and suddenly you're a real life dictator. 😭

It's OK to make mistakes and learn. I'm just so so so tired of dealing with people who don't care to learn and it almost makes me feel bad for writing here. I know I can't be responsible for my readers and I can't control who follows me. But just.

If it wasn't clear before. Even though I have this in my intro post.

I'm sorry if you were looking for something else, there are other blogs for that. I'm just a writer writing fictional stories.

The only Burning Sun Scandal fic I would ever write would be with all the men getting, literally, burned to death. 💀

Anyway. Sorry, I had to get that out, I feel like I have had so much to deal with on this blog and I'm just working through it.

Take care of yourselves 🩷 hope you're all staying warm and eating well.

I will be back around to check in soon, maybe edit a fic? Who knows, maybe getting this out will make me feel better. Love you sm 🩷🫂

[clareguilty]

The Naked Thing

Hello! I was dying without air conditioning a few weeks ago and decided to make it Mando Smut Mandalorian/f!reader Rating: Explicit | No Warnings Word Count: ~2900

The Crest falls out of hyperspace too soon, and you go flying. Curling around Grogu in your arms, you twist in midair so that your back hits the console to avoid crushing him. A lever digs into your spine, and you curse loudly. That’s going to bruise. Oh well. What’s another?

“What the kriff, Mando?” you snarl. Grogu seems unbothered, blinking at you and probably learning way too many swear words for a child of his size.

Mando pulls himself off the control grid with a pained groan, helmet swiveling as he takes in the damage.

“The good news,” he begins after a moment, “is that we lost them.”

That is good news, you agree. You were lucky that the army of bounty hunters and ex-imps hadn’t kept track of you. If you had shaken them off your trail, then that would earn you a head start to a safer system.

“The bad news is that they shot out our hyperdrive.”

“Dank Farrik,” you curse again, then glance at Grogu. Maybe you should watch your mouth more?

“...And our temperature regulator and our heat shields.”

You decide that it is an appropriate time for as much foul language as you please.

“What does that mean?” you ask. You hadn’t grown up around ships -- spent the last dozen years on the same dead-end planet until Mando picked you up. The most you were good for was turning a knob or flipping a switch here and there. Usually you just kept an eye on Grogu while Mando did all the piloting and bounty hunting and whatnot.

“We’ll have to travel sublight, but we can’t land planet side because without the heat shields any atmosphere worth a damn would burn us up. Our only option is a New Republic Outpost. We’ll be able to land there, and we’ll be safe while they repair the Crest. I’ll chart us a course and let you know how long it should be.”

“You know,” you snap, “we wouldn’t be in this mess if you weren’t so scared of droids. If we had an astromech on board, then we could get the hyperdrive repaired without having to crawl our asses through deep space in the hopes that whoever picks us up doesn’t want us dead.”

Mando doesn’t say anything. You don’t know if your words meant anything at all to him because you can’t see shit behind his helmet. Huffing, you take Grogu down to the hold. Not long after, the engines fire up again.

It takes a few minutes to set in, but its quick enough to be noticeable. The ship is getting hotter. Like… unbearably warm.

You fill a canteen with water and make sure that you and Grogu are both hydrated. After a little bit of digging, you manage to find a portable air circulator. You and Grogu sit directly in front of the current, doing your best to keep cool.

Mando comes down after a little while, he cocks his helmet when he sees you.

“It’s hot,” you whine.

“The temperature regulator is shot too. We don’t have a way too cool the ship down or shield the heat of the engines.”

You sigh. “How long until we can get repairs?”

“34 hours. Will the kid be okay for that long?”

Grogu hasn’t outwardly complained about the heat, mostly just sitting in front of the circulator with his eyes closed and ears flapping, but you’ve been worried as well. “He’s kind of… amphibious,” you frown. “I’ll get him a basin of water to sit in and put him in the fresher with the circulator. That should keep him cooled off.”

Mando nods. “Thank you. Will you be okay?”

You shrug. There’s not much you can do. As long as you stay hydrated then you should be able to last 34 hours.

“Thank you,” he says again.

“For what?” All you’ve done is curse at him and berate him for not having an astromech droid.

“For looking out for him back there. You saved all of us with that droid popper. And the move with the cannon was impressive.”

You aren’t expecting genuine praise from Mando. It always felt as though you were dead weight to him. Through all the planets you’ve been on -- and been chased off of -- you’ve always felt useless.You can’t fly, you’re not the best shot, you can barely take care of his kid. It means a lot that he doesn’t actually hate you. 

“I’m starting to get the hang of this,” you grin. You had never considered yourself a hero or adventurer, but you had commandeered a cannon and shot down three imperial fighters.

“I’ll be up in the cockpit if you need anything. Just knock.” And he’s gone.

‘Knock’ means that Mando is probably going to take his helmet and armor off, which means you also get a few hours of total privacy. You set Grogu up in the fresher with a basin of water and the circulator -- though it pains you to give up the weak, artificial breeze.

It’s only gotten hotter, and your already filthy clothes are starting to became unbearable. You had gotten splashed with gore and grime and who knows what in your escape, and it wasn’t pairing well with the heat onboard.

Stripping out of your clothes, you sprawl naked on the metal floor. It’s dusty, but slightly cool, and you plaster as much of your skin to the durasteel as you can manage.

Time passes with you systematically rolling across the floor of the hold to try and keep from baking. It’s bearable only because you know there will be an end. As long as the ship keeps chugging along towards the space outpost, then you will be saved.

The hatch to the cockpit opens, and you leap to your feet. Mando clambers down, jumping when he sees you.

“You’re naked,” he raises his hands -- his bare hands -- and backs against the ladder.

“You’re naked.” you point.

“I have a helmet and pants on,” he says. But that’s all he has on. His chest and arms are bare, and it’s more skin than you’ve ever seen before on the man.

“I’ve never seen you out of your armor. That has got to be more scandalous than me being naked.”

You must have made a point, because Mando doesn’t respond. Instead, you both just kind of… stand there. You can’t tear your eyes away from his chest and from the angle his helmet is pointed it seems he’s having a similar issue.

“Did you, uh, need anything?” you finally manage to ask. Your mouth is dry, and you take another uncoordinated drink from the canteen, shivering as some of the water spills down your chest.

Mando coughs. “I just wanted to make sure the kid is okay.”

“Oh,” you turn to open the fresher door just a crack. You had checked on him just a few minutes ago, and he still seems fine. After a moment of pause, Mando comes up behind you and you can feel the heat of his skin against your back.

Grogu is asleep, curled up just in front of the circulator and the basin of water so that the cool air blows over him. The fresher is several degrees cooler than the rest of the ship, and while it feels amazing, you don’t want to let the heat in.

“I’m going to go back up now,” Mando says quickly, and then he’s gone through the hatch once again.

You resume your circuit of laying on the floor, but it feels like the ship is only getting hotter.

That’s when you take to banging on the hatch to the cockpit. “Mando, I’m going to kick your ass! You had better get us to that outpost or find a way too cool this ship down! I spent years on Tatooine, and this is the hottest I have ever been in my entire life!”

“I can cut the engines to stop generating any heat, but then we’ll just be coasting through empty space and we’ll never make it to the outpost.”

You huff. “At this point you should just freeze me in carbonite.”

Mando does not freeze you in carbonite, but you do eventually make it to the New Republic outpost. They give the three of you a small dorm and Mando arranges for the Razor Crest to be repaired. You don’t have any credits between you, so you wonder what he offers in exchange.

You toss your gear into the room and head out to get food for everyone. You always enjoy being in New Republic space. No one is out to murder you or imprison you. The officers are usually nicer. Everyone likes the Skywalkers.

A friendly droid loads you up with several plates of food, and you stop to check out the holonet broadcasts on your way back. Things in this corner of the galaxy are a little hectic -- something you just witnessed firsthand -- but its less gloomy than it used to be.

Mando is sitting on the lower bunk when you get back. He’s back in his full armor, but you can read his posture pretty well. Grogu is playing in the corner, levitating some rocks you had found for him a few planets back. You set the tray down, fully intending to take your portion and eat out in the hall or in one of the communal sitting rooms. Before you can even turn away, Mando has already grabbed a plate of food and tugged his helmet off.

“WOAH,” you raise your hands in front of your face, ducking your head before you can see too much. Curly hair. Tan skin. Moustache. If there is one thing you’ve learned, it’s that Mando doesn’t let anyone see him without his helmet. It’s a cultural thing, and you respect that. “What is with you being naked today?”

Your eyes are open, but very pointedly looking at a wall nowhere near him. He shifts for a moment, and you wait for some kind of explanation.

“Look,” he finally begins, “we’ve been through a lot together at this point. I’ve traveled with you longer than anyone since I was a foundling with the watch. You’ve saved my life as well as Grogu’s many times, and we just survived one hell of a fight. Not to mention, I saw, um, all of you today. I figure it’s only fair.”

You’re touched. It’s an honor that Mando trusts you enough to remove his helmet. For as long as you have been travelling together, you’ve assumed that you care for him far more than he cares for you. “You don’t have to,” you say. “I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

“I trust you,” he repeats.

You turn to face him. His eyes are so soft. Tired and kind and the warmest brown. He stares at you, taking you in for the first time with his own eyes and not the visor in his helmet. It’s unreasonably intimate considering he was staring at you naked with the helmet on just 16 hours before.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re kind of cute?” you laugh and look away, smoothing your hands over your pants. There’s food in front of you, and you use that as a welcome distraction.

“I’ve never trusted anyone enough before now to see me.”

How can he just say things like that? You try to drown the rapid beating of your heart behind some kind of bitter vegetable.

Mando begins to eat as well, slowly and unsurely. He picks at a few different dishes before finally speaking again. “You’ve, uh- I mean… you’re beautiful as well.”

You laugh loudly at that. It’s so shy. This man had seen you overheated and completely naked lying on the floor of his ship. You roll your eyes and shoot him a wink. “Something you like in particular?”

Mando chokes, coughing for a minute before chugging down half a glass of green jelly juice. He finally regains his composure, but his voice is rough when he speaks again. “I’d say the best view was from behind.”

It’s the last thing you expect from him. He’s so shy and reserved and has always backed down from your defensive teasing. It’s a moment before you can pull yourself together. Still, you aren’t sure what to say. Instead, you cram some shredded raw crustacean in your mouth and hope you aren’t too flushed.

Mando offers to take the trays back. The dorm bathroom has a shower with running water and you intend to take full advantage. Grogu rolls a rock at your feet as you head into the bathroom, and you lightly kick it back to him. “Are you tired of putting up with us yet? You’ve been a baby longer than I’ve been alive. I bet we seem like idiots to you.”

Grogu, predictably, says nothing. He makes a raspberry noise with his lips and plops down into a sit.

The shower is one of the greatest gifts you’ve ever enjoyed in life. Hot water, high pressure, steam and soap. You take your time washing up and letting the jets work out all of the kinks in your muscles.

When you slide the stall door aside, Mando is standing at the sink. Helmetless. Shirtless.

He jumps slightly, staring at the floor as you step out of the shower. 

“We have got to stop doing this naked thing,” you say. It doesn’t actually bother you. You like that Mando trusts you, and you’ve never been shy about being naked around others, but he’s too attractive and it drives you nuts.

“I rather enjoy it,” he manages to pull his gaze from the floor to shoot you a wink. Your pulse speeds up.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Mando,” you step forward. You’re still steaming from the shower and dripping wet. He’s never been this cheeky before, and you kind of enjoy it.

His gaze darkens, eyebrows rasing. He reaches out to grab your waist, pulling you in and pinning you against the sink. You gasp at the feeling of his skin on yours, leaning back as he crowds you against the basin.

“Grogu is napping,” he whispers.

“I think the shower will fit both of us,” you breathe.

He’s already working at the buckle of his pants, toeing out of his boots. You drag him back into the shower with you. The jets hit his back, and he melts a little. You wrap your hand around his cock, and he looks like he may collapse. His eyes flutter shut, one of his hands slamming against the wall by your head.

You lean in to brush your lips over his skin as you stroke his cock. You’d never even seen this man’s face before today, and now you’re kissing your way over his jaw and down his neck. His other hand grabs your ass, kneading the flesh and pulling you closer so your hips brush his.

Your thumb swipes over the tip of his cock, and he shudders. It happens so fast, you didn’t know he had spun you around until your cheek is against the shower wall. His hands are glue to your hips, digging into your ass and pulling you to him so he can grind his cock against your slick skin.

“Please,” you whine. You haven’t had sex with anyone since you began travelling with Mando, and opportunities to get yourself off come few and far between with three of you on the Crest. You’re desperately horny, and you’ve wanted to fuck this man since you found him in that godforsaken desert.

He lines himself up and drives his hips forward, sinking into you with one solid thrust. You bite your forearm to muffle your moans, panting as you try to get used to the sudden stretch.

“You good?” he asks, leaning forward to kiss your cheek. 

“Move,” you say, demanding but desperate.

It takes a moment to find leverage in the tiny -- smaller than you first assumed -- shower stall, but Mando begins to fuck you at a steady pace. You reach down to rub your clit, clenching around him. You’re going to finish quicker than you’re used to -- probably because you’ve been turned on since you saw Mando shirtless on the crest.

From the way Mando’s hips twitch and his rhythm falters, you guess that he’s close to coming as well.

His hands are everywhere. Your hips, your ass, trailing over your stomach and and reaching up to squeeze your breasts. His fingers brush your throat and you nearly come from the touch alone. He feels the way you tighten around his cock and places a hand on your neck, squeezing your jaw between his thumb and forefinger.

You come so hard your knees give out and your vision goes white. Mando keeps you from collapsing in a bruised heap on the shower floor by simply continuing to fuck you until he comes as well.

It’s not a lot of space, so you’re slumped together under the spray of the water. You manage to wipe yourself clean in a few swipes and stagger back out so Mando can actually wash up. He’s much quicker than you were, and he’s out of the shower by the time you’ve finished rubbing scented moisturizer over your skin. The New Republic sure knew how to treat their guests.

“I think we should definitely keep doing the naked thing,” he grins.

[fernweh-writes]

Your writing gives me so much life and wholesome vibes! ;-;💕 If you wouldn't mind could you do the slashers with a s/o who loves to make home cooked meals for them.

Ahhh, thank you so much hun <3 As someone who loves to cook and who’s goal in life is to be a spoiled housewife, absolutely.

-Fern

Slashers x S/O who likes to cook

slight nsfw content if you squint

Michael Myers

This man craves a sense of normalcy in his very peculiar life. After all, he was diagnosed with a case of crazy at a young age and ever since no one had made an effort to care about him. One of the main reasons he would ever keep you around would be because you fit the housewife role that he needs wants. You give him the one thing he always wanted that no one else ever could, domesticity.

Michael has a weird schedule and just sort of comes and goes as he pleases. This can make having a hot meal ready quite difficult, but once you begin a steady routine of cooking for him he starts to appear whenever you’re cooking. Well at least most of the time, stalking and killing can keep him very busy sometimes.

He’s not very picky about what you cook, so you have plenty of freedom to make whatever your heart desires. He’s certainly not going to complain. Although, if you remember his favorite meals and cook them for him from time to time he will be extra grateful. His gratitude is often expressed through becoming very handsy with you.

Likes to watch you cook! Again he loves the whole domestic thing and watching you serve him cook for him pleases him. Plus you just look so cute wearing an apron. Also loves how focused you can be. Don’t expect him to help you though, this is your job y/n.

Pretty sure everyone agrees that Michael has a major sweet tooth so if you bake him sweets he decides you’re never going anywhere… ever. He’s keeping you, end of story.

The only thing he ever helps with in the kitchen is licking the bowl when you bake. Snatches the spoon from you as well, he wants all of it.

Bo Sinclair

Another man that is very much into the housewife thing. Like he gets off on it.

We all know Bo isn’t quite right in the head, but we all love him anyways! He wants someone to serve him, after all he needs to be in charge and to have control over everything. This includes controlling the roles within his own home.

The fact that you willingly cook though and actually enjoy cooking sends him over the moon. He knew that he had made the right decision when he decided to keep you. This just makes him further believe that you were meant to be his.

Home cooked meals remind him of the good parts of his childhood. So watching you cook with an apron tied around your waist while humming and just being content with what you’re doing makes him melt. It’s also going to make him more likely to open up and be a little more vulnerable with you. Watching you cook just puts him at ease.

Cooking his favorite meals though is what really gets to him. Especially if you decide to go all out and be cheesy by “setting the mood” with candles and fancy silverware. He’ll make fun of you and pretend to hate it but the lack of malice in his voice gives him away.

You can often find him standing around the kitchen while you cook as well. This started once you asked him to try something once to see if you needed to add anything. Now he won’t stop waiting around for free samples.

Bo decides that winter is his new favorite season. The shop doesn’t have any heating and he also spends a lot of time chasing victims around the woods or down the streets. In other words, he’s spending a lot of time out in the cold weather. Walking into his warm house to find the sweetest wife in Ambrose putting a hot meal on a plate for him makes his day. Don’t be surprised if he begins to bring up his other ideas about how you can keep him warm.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent isn’t obsessed with the whole housewife thing the way that Bo is. He could really care less if his s/o cooked or not after all he had survived this long.

But, Vincent often gets lost in his work. This leads to him losing track of time quite often, so skipping meals isn’t something out of the ordinary. It’s not that he means to it’s just so easy for him to forget unless his stomach starts growling.

He does love that you love to cook for him though. Anytime you bring food down to his workshop so that he doesn’t forget to eat he absolutely melts. He doesn’t know how you could be anymore perfect.

Although he doesn’t expect nor necessarily want his significant other to take care of him he does enjoy the fact that you do so anyway. It shows that you care about him in a way that he hasn’t been cared for in a very long time. Especially enjoys the sentiment of you making him his favorite meals. Not only do you take care of him, you take the time to remember the little things about him! He doesn’t think he could possibly feel more loved.

After the first time he watches you cook, he’s hooked. You just look so cute and content in the kitchen. Seeing you so happy and at ease puts him at ease. It lets him know that you’re happy in Ambrose and that you really do love him.

Unlike most of the other slasher, he will help you clean up the kitchen. You two make quick work of all the dishes since you wash them and he dries them and puts them away. It started off with him washing the dishes until he watched you struggle to place plates at the top of a cabinet. Although, he did enjoy being able to press himself against your back while he helped you.

Thomas Hewitt

The fact you love to cook not only delights Thomas, but helps out Luda Mae as well. With you handling the kitchen, it takes one of the most time consuming chores off of her hands. Allowing her both a chance to rest as well as a chance to finally clean up more of the old house. And we all know whatever makes Momma happy makes Thomas happy.

Honestly though, you’re going to have to take up gardening as well. After all the town is pretty much abandoned and there isn’t much to work with. Hope you know recipes for making human meat taste good…

Once again, we have another slasher who’s ideal life involves a housewife. Thomas just wants his life to be normal for once but he also wants someone to truly care about him. He is always the one taking care of other people in the family so having you to take care of him is the one thing that keeps him going.

Thomas works hard and victims are always putting up a tough fight. Since all of Thomas chores take a lot of physical exertion, he always feels like he’s starving at the end of the day. Luckily he has you! You’ve never failed to have a hot meal waiting for him.

Don’t tell Momma, but he thinks that you’re a better cook.

Please ask him his opinion on the food. Thomas hardly ever gets a say in anything since Hoyt usually gets to call the shots. It may not be much, but you asking him for his input makes him feel important.

Cooking his favorite meals after you know he’s had a hard week just does something to him. Maybe it’s because it shows him that you care, that you pay attention and notice things. Whatever the matter, he definitely enjoys tossing you onto the bed after dinner to show you his gratitude. After all, no good meal is complete without dessert.

Stu Macher

His parents were hardly ever home so Stu learned to fend for himself. This included a lot of unhealthy takeout. You have no idea how he survived off of pizza for so long. Is your cholesterol okay Stu? Killing people and having to chase them down is probably the only reason he ever survived without you.

Lucky for him, now he has you! And you love to cook for him and he enjoys everything you cook. Making him his favorite foods is a quick way to get him excited so please cook them for him after he’s had a hard day.

Expect to have a fancy kitchen and anything your heart could desire to cook with. You two will definitely have a house with one of those walk in pantries so that you have plenty of space for ingredients. If you’re going to spoil him with good food obviously he is going to spoil you by giving you everything you need to do so.

Stu never though he could enjoy cooking, but you quickly show him that it can be fun. This means you can expect him to willingly help out from time to time, whenever he’s in the mood to help. It also means you can leave at ease knowing he won’t be feasting on takeout anytime you go somewhere. At least you thought so until you came home to an unbelievable amount of pizza boxes on the counter.

He is determined to invest in a label maker and put puns on all of your spices like the adorable dork he is.

Billy Loomis

Mr mommy issues absolutely loses his shit when you cook for him. Billy absolutely thrives off of you taking care of him. Once you start cooking for him he won’t allow you to stop, it becomes an expectation.

Billy likes to cling to you while you cook, quite literally. He’ll have his arms wrapped around your waste with his head resting on top of your head/shoulder so that he can watch what you’re doing. Hopefully you can maneuver around the kitchen with him attached to you because he isn’t going anywhere.

After being together for so long, Billy usually tells you when he’s going to “hang out” with Stu. Knowing he wouldn’t be back until very late, you left out food that he could easily heat up. Finding food on the counter with instructions of how long to microwave it melts his heart. Now he’s one hundred percent sure that you’re permanent.

Shows his gratitude more than you would expect him to. He will put away the leftovers while you clean up the kitchen. It may not be much, but it’s one less thing for you to do before going to bed at night.

Don’t worry, he’ll be the one in charge of dessert. It’s another way of showing his gratitude.

Brahms Heelshire

Obviously cooking for him is a requirement so it’s a good thing that you enjoy cooking. But it’s the way you go the extra mile for him that makes him set on keeping you.

You always make him his favorite foods which just fuels his spoiled ass. If you make something you don’t like he’s going to try an throw a tantrum over it. May even go as far as to stay in the walls for a whole day. But when he finds his dinner has gone cold because you had went to bed before he decided to stop being stubborn and come eat he will realize he was in the wrong.

Just make sure to put your foot down, otherwise he will never eat any of his vegetables. He’ll pout about it and complain the whole time but whatever it takes to get him to eat healthy. Eventually he will learn to stop complaining.

No one has ever actually enjoyed doing something for Brahms. He always had to force people into pretending that they cared about him. But you not only took care of him you enjoyed doing it. The home cooked meals you made left him feeling warm and fuzzy on the inside. You put your heart into the things you cooked for him, put your time into making something you would enjoy.

I keep thinking of you hiding something in his food as a way to get him to eat something without him knowing. One day he catches you sneaking in the ingredient while he’s in the walls and he is outraged. How dare you lie to him y/n, after he was such a good boy no less!

If you bake him sweets he will make himself sick from eating so many. You’re his impulse control, please hide the sweets from him so that he doesn’t get sick. It’s for his own good.

Jesse Cromeans/Chromeskull

He’s a very busy man so having you cook for him fills him with joy. There’s nothing like coming home to a hot meal after a day of chasing people down and dealing with idiots like Preston. His injuries can also leave him feeling very drained so it’s good that you know how to make plenty of different meals to make him feel better.

If you ever wanted to learn more about cooking he would 100% pay for classes for you. Could even arrange for them to be during times when he goes on business trips so that you have something to keep you occupied while he’s gone. When he gets back he expects you to show him everything that you learned.

Jesse loves it if you ever bring him food. Granted the first time you showed up at one of the warehouses he freaked out because you could’ve been hurt. Spann makes sure to reassure him that she knew you were coming and arranged for you to be kept safe the whole way there and back.

I can also see Spann being flattered if you brought extra food for her. It saves her time and allows her to get more done within a timely manner. Also means she doesn’t have to worry about everything falling apart while she tries to get food.

Watching you cook does something to Jesse and he’s not against picking you up and carrying you upstairs. He can think of something much better to eat than whatever you’re cooking. This has also led to the smoke alarms going off more than once.

[the--sad--hatter]

Steam - Chapter 1 (Loki x Reader)

Warnings - Loki, Smut, Violence & Gore, Swearing, Death, Angst, Dark Humour, Crack Humour, Shenanigan’s, Mutual Pining

Pairing - Loki X Reader (Slow Burn Romance), Enemies to Frenemies to Idiots in Love

Reader Description - Female, No physical descriptions, Only referred to by nicknames & Petnames (No use of Y/N)

Description/Blurb -

“So how’d you get the firepower? What’s your origin story?” Stark asked, peering at you curiously.

“Uh, this is my origin story…” You winced, sighing when he motioned for you to elaborate, “I got these powers about three days ago.”

It’s a tale as old as time, boy meets girl, boy tries to invade girls mind, girl sets boy on fire, boy turns into angry blue boy, they become sworn enemies.

When you suddenly become imbued with a power you have no idea how to control, Nick Fury picks you up and dumps you on The Avengers doorstep, deciding that they are best people to turn you from a wacky novice into a force to be reckoned with.

The power burning inside you has the potential to make you a hero, or destroy you completely, but your new fire based abilities are more than they appear, and in a stroke of spectacularly bad luck, The God of Mischief is the most qualified teacher to mentor you. With Loki guiding you, will you ever learn to control your power? Will you ever make it as an Avenger? Or will you crash and burn?

Only one thing is absolutely certain, when fire and ice collide, things are bound to get… steamy!

Chapter One - Ice Breaker

It was every bit as imposing as you’d imagined it would be, not that you’d ever imagined seeing it under these circumstances.

 “Are you coming?” Fury barked at you, breaking you out of your slack-jawed awe.

 You snapped your mouth closed and tore your eyes away from the legendary tower, looking at the doors where Fury was impatiently waiting for you.

 “Coming!” You squeaked, scurrying over to him, “It’s just when you said you were taking me somewhere where I could safely learn to control my powers, I was sort of picturing an underground bunker in the desert, not the freaking Avengers Tower!”

 “I utilise the assets I have, why would I send you away when I have a team of perfectly capable super-powered individuals?” He asked wryly, leading you across the lobby and straight past the security teams who did nothing to stop you both as you made your way into an elevator.

 “I’m just saying, a heads up would have been nice.” You muttered petulantly, crossing your arms over your chest and tucking your hands out of sight.

 You felt him look at you and studiously refused to meet his eye, staring instead at the numbers above the door as you were carried all the way to the top of the Tower.

 “Heads up, you’re meeting The Avengers.” He shot back.

You could say what you liked about the former director of Shield, he was true to his word, because the elevator doors wooshed open to reveal a waiting crowd of Avengers, all of them staring at the man next to you with varying levels of annoyance and/or distrust. You diligently pattered after Fury as he stepped forward to greet them, looking around the room reverently.

 The first person you laid eyes on was Tony Stark, Iron Man; the billionaire who had kicked off the modern age of hero’s, and next to him, Captain America, the first of the first, the OG Superhero. Stood behind the Captain was Sam Wilson, the Falcon and a personal favourite of yours, side by side with Bucky Barnes, the former Winter Soldier and poster-child for taking back control of your own fate. Clint Barton aka Hawkeye and the deadliest marksman in the world stood to the side with the Black Widow, deadliest person in the world full stop. In the back of the room two other figures were hanging back, emitting two very different aura’s. Doctor Bruce Banner eyed Fury with trepadition, and well-placed mistrust.

 It was the last person in the room that the majority of your attention was reserved for, the tall, imposing god who skulked in the shadows. Contempt and boredom radiated from him, and you couldn’t safely say it was directed purely at Fury. He was also the only one who spared you more than a cursory glance, and you slowed to a stop as you found yourself trapped in his curious gaze. You stared back, trying to reconcile the villain who once tried to subjugate the planet with the one you were locking eyes with. It had been months since he had joined the Avengers, but it never stopped being strange to see him standing with them whenever you watched footage of them taking on whatever bad guy of the week they were battling. However, he had been fully cleared of any wrongdoing in the battle of New York, apparently he had been mind-controlled. As to why he was helping the Avengers, nobody really knew.  

 Someone cleared their throat loudly and you forced yourself to look away from the stupendously tall god, glancing around the room to see that you now had all eyes watching you expectantly. Apparently you’d zoned out for the introductions.

 “’Sup?” You offered, waving in Tony Starks general direction.

 “So you’re Fury’s fiery friend, what has that got to do with us?” Stark sighed.

 “What, you think he bothered to explain his reasoning to me before dragging my ass up here?” You scoffed.

 “She’s here because she has abilities, abilities that she is more likely to learn to handle among similarly gifted people.” Fury explained in a tone that brokered no argument.

 Naturally, The Avengers argued.

 “We don’t have anybody with fire abilities.” You heard Natasha Romanoff point out, just before you took the opportunity to zone out again.

 You were absolutely certain that nobody cared very much what your opinion on the matter was, thankfully. You weren’t sure you had an opinion on the matter. It wasn’t like you had a lot of experience with these kinds of issues, and as far as you were away there wasn’t some superhero academy that you could enrol yourself in. Besides, you were much more interested in re-instating your staring competition with the god of Mischief.

 In the brief time you’d been distracted, he’d stepped away from the shadows and moved closer to you, staring at you with his arms crossed.

 You resisted the urge to inhale deeply, who knew ex-murderous gods would smell so nice? You looked up, and then up again.

 “How tall are you?” You asked incredulously.

 His gaze flickered down at you impassively, while you stared back and tried to mentally calculate his height.

 “I’m a Frost Giant.” He stated coldly.

 “Oh in that case, you’re kinda short.” You scoffed.

 You were flooded with immediate remorse but it was drowned out by amusement.

 “I beg your pardon?” He demanded, uncrossing his arms and stepping into your personal space.

 “Down boy.” Iron Man sniggered, stepping between you. “So how’d you get the firepower? What’s your origin story?” Stark asked, peering at you curiously.

 “Uh, this is my origin story…” You winced, sighing when he motioned for you to elaborate, “I got these powers about three days ago.”

 “So you’re a baby.” He stated matter-of-factly.

 “If I say yes does that mean I can just sit on the floor and cry until someone picks me up and holds me?” You asked, fully willing to give it a go.

 It had been three days since your life had literally gone up in flames, three days of pinning your arms at your sides, afraid to close your eyes, afraid to let your guard down for even a split second, afraid to allow yourself to feel even an iota of emotion.

 “So how did it happen?” The Captain asked firmly, getting the conversation back on track before you could find out if anyone would volunteer a hug.

 “I, well, I kind of…” You trailed off and looked at Fury for help, but he just stared back at you, the bastard.

 All eyes were on you as they waited for you to explain, nobody offering any kind of help. You exhaled forcefully and slumped your shoulders, tucking your chin so you didn’t have to look at them anymore.

 “I ate a bomb.” You whispered.

 There was a very long beat of silence before it was broken by several voices all at once.

 “I’m sorry, what?” Stark demanded.

 “What did it taste like?” The archer wondered, looking at you almost giddily.

 “She didn’t eat a bomb.” Fury finally stepped in to clarify, “She absorbed the blast, after failing to defuse it.”

 “Why was a civilian defusing a bomb in the first place?” Captain Rogers asked sharply, glancing at you in concern before turning back to Fury with a hard expression.

 “I’m not a civilian, I’m actually an Agent.” You reasoned.

 “She’s an Agent-In-Training.” Fury rebutted. “It was her first mission in the field.”

 “Baby.” Stark reiterated, faking a cough and smirking at you when you scowled at him.

 That was true, and you still didn’t think it was entirely your fault that the bomb had gone off. Yes you’d failed to diffuse it, but you were supposed to be watching the perimeter when you’d stumbled across the explosive device. It had less than thirty seconds on the clock, and you’d stupidly chosen to spend those seconds trying to stop it detonating instead of running away.

 “And you put her on bomb duty? Were you trying to get her blown up?” The Black Widow demanded, and you almost laughed until you saw the serious expression on her face.

 “There wasn’t supposed to be a bomb there, she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Fury shrugged, like it was inconsequential.

 To him it probably was.

 “She is still in the room, and I was exactly where you told me to be, when you told me to be there. If your intel was bad, that’s on you Mr Superspy.” You snapped.

 “Oh I see it now!” Stark briskly announced, “You’re trying to pawn her off on us because she’s too sassy for you.”

 “Precisely.” Fury admitted, surprisingly.

 “In the words of shortstack over there,” You hissed, gesturing at Loki “I beg your pardon?”

 “You don’t have the temperance to be an Agent.” Fury told you blankly, not bothering to soften the blow by at least telling you this in private instead of in front of the world greatest heroes.

 “I’d take that as a compliment.” Stark assured you.

 “You’re telling me I’m fired? Literally. Because I got blown up, through no fault of my own?” You huffed, clenching your firsts in an effort to keep your emotions from manifesting in a fiery inferno of rage.

 “Because you choose to try and handle a bomb you had no training to handle, instead of pursuing the target.” Fury amended, unphased by your distress.

 You bit back your retort because you knew it wouldn’t matter to him in the slightest. You couldn’t reason with him, couldn’t explain that you had made the choice not to pursue the target who’d planted the bomb, because you had to try and stop it exploding in a building filled with innocent people. Maybe Fury was right after all. Maybe you weren’t suited to being an Agent, because an Agent would have known that they couldn’t stop the bomb but they could stop the bomber. They would have let a hundred innocent people die and stopped the killer from killing a thousand more the next time. You weren’t an Agent because you’d chosen to die trying to save the hundred, and trusted in Fury and Hill to take down the Bomber.

 Of course, that wasn’t what had happened, and in the end nobody had died.

 “None of this explains how you ‘ate’ the bomb.” Clint Barton pointed out, and it was a good observation.

 “That’s because we don’t have an explanation. She went through the standard medical tests in her training, and all her bloodwork and scans indicated she was fully human. She walked into that building as a human being, and walked back out after absorbing a bomb, as who the hell knows what.”

 “So you’ve never done anything like this before?” Dr Banner asked you, speaking directly to you for the first time.

 “Not even remotely. I mean my eyes water when I eat chilli.” You shrugged.

 “Fascinating.” Banner muttered. “Inhuman?” He asked, turning to Stark.

 “Unlikely, she would have probably noticed going through Terragenesis.” Stark responded. “Mutant?” He shot back.

 “No, the mutant gene would have shown up in testing.” Dr Banner sighed, looking you over with a scientifically calculating eye. “Can you explain what happened in more detail?”

 “Sure, bomb went boom, I went AHHHHHH, and then it was all bright and hot and then the boom went away.” You told them.

 “So how do we know that it was you? What if something else contained the blast?” Someone asked, and you looked around before you finally realised it was Sam Wilson who had spoken.

 “No, it was… it definitely me.” You sighed.

 “How do you know?” Bucky Barnes interjected, backing up the Falcons line of questioning.

 That was the million dollar question. How could you be sure that you had anything to do with the bomb, that you had been imbued with fire power?

 “During the post-mission de-brief, there was an incident.” You alluded, side-eying Fury and taking a not-so-subtle step away from him.

 “Please tell me you tried to set him on fire?” Barton asked giddily, looking between you and your former boss.

 When Fury levelled you with a glare and you developed a sudden vested in the ceiling, the Archer sniggered joyfully. You chanced a look around the room and saw that Barton wasn’t the only one exhibiting mirth at the idea of Fury being set ablaze by your.. well, your fury.

 “He was yelling at me!” You defended, taking yet another step back when his glare intensified.

 “You’re lucky you had no aim and only managed to set fire to the table.” He snapped.

 “I think you were the lucky one.” Stark sniggered at Fury.

 “Do you want her or not?” Fury sighed.

 “Do I get a say in this?” You objected.

 “No.” Fury, Stark, Romanoff, and Loki said in unison.

 “I can run some tests to figure out what happened to you, if it’s reversible.” Banner offered comfortingly. “With your permission of course.”

 “I’m gonna go stand over there with him.” You huffed, making a beeline for the doctor and awkwardly hiding behind him.

 “Yeah, we’ll take her, should be an interesting riddle to solve.” Stark shrugged.

 Captain Rogers and his buddies glanced at you before appearing to have a silent conversation.

 “She can stay here while Stark and Banner figure out what happened, and we can go from there.” The Captain finally decided.

 “We’ll take good care of her.” Loki added with a charming smile.

 His eyes said something completely different, and you had a sick feeling that you were going to be made to pay for your short jokes.

 “Glad I meet your approval; I was worried I was going to fall short.” You sarked, immediately resisting the urge to punch yourself in the face.

 “Approval has nothing to do with it. Of all The Avengers, who do you think will be responsible for testing your abilities? You would do well to remember that I am more than mischief and lies, I am the god of chaos and fire.” He warned you cockily, visibly delighting in the way your grin faltered.

 You shot a pleading look around the room, but nobody was refuting Loki’s claim. In fact, they were nodding thoughtfully, or in Stark’s case; shrugging apologetically at you. You turned back to Loki, ignoring the deep sense of foreboding in your stomach.

 “Well Fe-Fi-Fo-Fuck.”

I have been trying to get back into writing for so long, and this is my last attempt. If this doesn’t work then I am out of ideas. 

I know this is a boring start but I have been re-working and rewriting it for days and I can’t improve it. If you enjoyed any part of this, please do tell me! If you didn’t, then tell me that as well. Just give me any feedback at all, I’d appreciate it so so so so so much. 

For those of you unaware (especially on AO3), I haven’t been writing for a while because my estranged mother passed away and it brought up issues that needed to be dealt with, but all that is over with now. Thank you to everyone who sent supportive messages and was patient with me ❤

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[shaydeoffical]

Let’s Slip Away: Diluc x Fem Reader: Childhood Best Friend Au

Summary: You and Diluc slip away from the annual Dawn Winery Ball and confess. Reader then deals with some anxiety about the relationship and Diluc soothes them.  

Tags:

Lots of fluff, Creepus is a wonderful person, Diluc is so smooth, dancing under the moonlight, long fit.  

Diluc x Reader

Lets Slip Away

The annual Dawn Winery Masquerade Ball, the biggest ball this side of Mondstat, or it used to be. Thankfully, Diluc had successfully scaled the ball down in size a little more with each passing year. Still, it didn't make much of a difference with the ballroom still being packed tight. No matter how the guest list shrunk, people found a way to take up the same amount of space as before. There's nothing I loved more than a dance, but it was the people I couldn't stand. Everyone liked to pretend they were an evil aristocrat once their identity was concealed. A fancy dress, a decorative mask, and a new hairstyle, and everyone felt invincible. It was the same thing every year; they'd order the staff around, drink till they lost control, and leave the manor a mess. It was deplorable.

After watching a woman toss a glass on one of the maids, I lost my cool. I may or may not have tossed my grape juice on the women in retribution. The maid couldn't do it, so I had to use my position as "Master" Diluc's best friend to get away with it. What I didn't expect was for the lady's husband to toss not just the wine but the whole glass at my face. While the glass didn't bust when the base hit my head, it did leave a notable bruise, and the wine soaked through my hair, mask, and dress.

Elzer stepped in immediately to settle the issue, and instead of sticking around to get a lecture, I slipped into the garden. Hiding between several grapevines. I listened to the music pour from the house above and pouted. If I had played my cards right tonight, I would have been dancing in an empty corner with Turner or maybe even Diluc if he was free. He always saved the last dance for me. When the party started to clear a little, we'd stay in my favorite corner and have a quick dance while he whispered about he'll find a way to have the event canceled next year. But no, I was being eaten by mosquitos fighting off a headache.

Holding my mask between my hands, the once white fabric had stained dark red. Even my cream dress was littered with splotches that wrecked of dandelion wine. Sucking in my lower lip, I held back a sudden wave of sadness. It settled into my bones and swept through my limbs in a jitter. Why was I so sad? I avenged the maid and did the right thing… but my chest ached.   Curling around myself, I tucked my head between my lap. There was a time and place for crying, and a party wasn't one. Yet, there I was, sobbing into the fancy gown Diluc had hand made for me. Of course, he wouldn't be mad at me for what happened, but the guilt was eating me alive. I had ruined the evening for myself and made things harder on my friend. "There you are. I've been looking all over-. Hey, Elzer told me what happened, but he didn't mention a welt. How badly are you hurt?" Diluc pushed through the vines faster and hopped over the last row. He knelt beside me and carefully lifted my chin so he could see my face. "I'm just being a baby." I leaned back, the moonlight catching my skin. He ran his thumb over the knot on my forehead, and he clenched his teeth. "Damn bastard." He looked back at the mansion. "He might be wearing a mask, but there's only one person in Mondstat with monogram shoe buckles." "What?" I laughed; he was so serious, but the idea of a monogram shoe buckle had me drying up my tears. "Who pays for that kind of thing?" "Mr. Barker." Diluc wiped under my eyes. "Are you hurt anywhere besides your head?" "Besides the guilt of running the dress you got me and making the party harder for you to manage, I'm fine." I let it out. There was no use in pretending it wasn't bothering me. I had learned a lot about Diluc in our years of being together. While he was a very perceptive man when it came to solving crimes and putting things together, he didn't have the same skill for guessing how I felt. He's known something was wrong before, but he'd just find ways to blame himself if I didn't tell him. "I'll have you another dress made, and those Barkers aren't your fault. Ms. Barker started it, and I ended it. There's always a little drama at these events." He twirled my hair around his finger. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to stop it entirely." "Don't go blaming yourself now." I scooted so close; I was almost in his lap. "Let's just focus on the music or the sky. I know you'll have to go back in soon, so let's just relax for a moment." "Hmm, I can hear it from here. It's nice." A soft number started to play, and people passing by the window cast shadows into the courtyard. He leaned his head against mine. Minutes passed by, and the song changed, both of us just settling our nerves. "So, I guess we won't have the last dance together this year." I hummed, the thought burning at the back of my mind. "I can't go back in there like this." I forced myself to laugh, trying to get it off my chest without sounding too sad. "We don't have to go back in. Elzer can handle the end of the night speech for me, like every year." Diluc stood, reaching his hand out to me. "Milady, may I have this dance?" "Diluc…of course, you may." I pushed my insecurities down and gripped his rough hand. Being wealthy, Diluc had been trained in many different types of formal ballroom dances. When he was in the zone, there was no one but Kaeya who could match his prowess and aura. But I wasn't blessed with the same background. I was just the daughter of the maid, and while my mother was paid well, there wasn't enough money to pay for a dance instructor. However, Diluc taught me everything he knew. We use to spend hours after his class, practicing and gliding around the living room. After some time, I even got to join the classes as Diluc and Kaeya's partner. Creepus convinced my mother it was just good practice for the boys, but looking back, he just wanted me to get that experience as well. "You okay?" Diluc gently gripped my waist as I spun back into his arms. "Yes, I was just thinking about when you taught me how to dance." I closed the gap between us and started moving with the song. Diluc took charge after a few more movements, and I gave up trying to lead. It was always a fun game for us to try to take charge, but I normally gave in fairly fast. Every now and then, he'd let me lead, but I often stepped on his toes when I did.   The ground wasn't level as a dance floor, so it was easier to just follow Diluc. Since he took the first step, he was able to find the best footholds. When we did hit a small hump, we'd steady each other and share a small smile. It wasn't a seamless performance like when we were on solid ground, but it was fun. It also gave us a reason to cling tighter to each other. His broad chest was always so warm; there was nothing more pleasant than laying my head there and closing my eyes as we swayed under the moon. "That was always so much fun." Diluc spun me out, then back into his arms. "Father use to watch us practice, he never told me directly, but Elzer said it was one of his favorite memories." Diluc pressed his lips into a line, eyes turning back to the manor. "He always loved this event, but I can't help but hate it." "I'm not a fan of the crowds or the entitled guests. But I do enjoy dancing with you." I laid my head on his shoulder, bringing him back to the present. "It seems we only dance when this event rolls around. And I can't help but wish for more moments like this. So, while I understand your distaste, I do think Creepus had the right idea. This is a chance for all of us to come together do something we all loved…it just is hard to enjoy when other people are so entitled." "I feel the same way. Dancing with you, it's always my favorite part of the ball." We swayed back and forth in a tight embrace, the music fading out and our footwork growing sloppy. "There's been so much to do recently. I'm afraid I've neglected you." "Mother told me that as friends get older, drifting apart is normal… I'm just glad you're still here with me. No matter how short that time is." He hugged me tighter, inhaling a sharp breath. "Maybe friends do, but my feelings for you are much stronger than just friends." I gasped before I could stop myself. Crickets chirped in the distance, and the lighting bugs emerged just as the party started to close. This moment was very much real…but did he really just confess? "You want to be with me?" I slowly looked up, grabbing the sides of his suit. "As more than friends?" "I do." He pulled back a little, glancing at the ground. "How do you feel? Could you ever love me as more than a friend? I know it's selfish to ask that of you, given the dangers that follow my line of duty. But I can't deny myself any longer." "My heart is going to jump out of my chest, Luc." Grasping his hand, I pressed it to my wrist. He smiled, rubbing his thumb over my pulse. "I want to be yours, and you mine. To be honest, I've had feelings for you for a while now. I just thought you didn't return them." Heat climbed up my face, and I looked away to hide it. While his confession was so smooth, mine was energetic and messy. Why couldn't I keep it calm? "That settles it then." He stepped closer, our eyes locking and fingers lacing. "We'll be together from here on out." A warm breeze went by, picking up the bottom of my ruined skirt. "Next time there's a dance, you won't have to leave my side, nor I yours. There will be no flying wine glasses or uncouth guests. We can dance the night away without worry or interruption." "I don't know if a party could ever go that smoothly." I pushed his hair back and cupped his face. "Unless we barred over half the guest list." "If you don't think I'd do that, then you underestimate how far I'll go to make you happy." His checks tined red, barely illuminated by the moon. "Oh, I don't doubt you, Master Diluc. But I'm not hard to please, we could dance in the living room like we use to, and I'd be the happiest person alive." I tugged him closer, wrapping my arms around his hips, and swaying to an imaginary beat. "It's not often you add my title before my name." He hummed, letting me lead us to the song in my head. "Master Diluc, whatever do you mean?" I batted my eyelashes and snickered. "I didn't realize I added it. Maybe it's where I've spent most of the night talking about you, and not to you that I've forgotten how to be relaxed. There was many a guest who wanted to pry about your love life." "Well, you have a definitive answer now, Lady Amber." He kissed the top of my head, stopping for a moment. His body radiated a wave of heat, and he nodded to himself. "It's starting to get cold. We should head inside before you catch a cold. I'm sure everyone's left by now." "I don't want this moment to end." I clung to his shirt, the warmth he emitted making my eyelids grow heavy. Whenever he allowed me to use him as a personal heater, I took the chance. But this was the first time I didn't worry about it being the last.   "We have many more moments like this ahead of us." He supported me as we walked towards the mansion, looping his arm around my waist. "Let's go clean up, and turn in for the night. Tomorrow we can have breakfast and go for a ride along the river. How does that sound?" "It sounds so nice." Once we were back in the house, Elzer met us in the doorway. "Where have you been, Master Diluc?" He rubbed the bridge of his nose and glanced at me. "And you, Ms. Amber, what were you thinking tossing your drink? You completely ruined the night. I could hardly contain the guests" Diluc wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and Elzer's tone sifted from miffed to muted. "Elzer, the issue was with the guests, not Amber." He steered me towards the stairs, nudging me along. "Go on to bed. I'll be up there in a moment. I have some business to finish up." Diluc walked towards his office, motioning for Elzer to follow him. Elzer shot me a perplexed look and tried to mouth out, 'be more careful' before hurrying after Diluc. I whisper back, "okay," before taking the stairs two at a time before stopping. I wasn't going to get in trouble, so I might as well show I'm not ashamed. "Goodnight Elzer," I called after the older man, with as "pleasant" of a tone as I could muster. Parties almost always stressed him more than Diluc, but since Elzer was an employee, he couldn't run and hide like Luc. Truth be known, if Diluc hadn't been there, I would have gotten a long lecture on the importance of keeping good relations with potential business partners. But that's only because Elzer couldn't let his frustrations out on anyone else. I was always there to listen and receive his distain when things went wrong. It wasn't my favorite pastime, but it did help him feel better. It was surprising he was so stressed, he actually chastised me in front of Diluc. It must have been a tough night even after I left. I usually was lectured in private, but he really was ready to let me have it.   Once in the guest room, I disrobed. The heavy gown took several minutes to untie and loosen the laces, but once it was done, my lungs could fully expand. My ribs ached, so I rubbed circles on my sides till the initial throb dulled. The night had gone better than I ever planned, and now it was over. Yet, there was a worse throb in my chest than the pain of a corset. Diluc and I were finally together. We removed the ever-lingering question and just confessed. Why did it hurt inside? Was it that the party was hard on everyone else and I was so happy? Or was it something else? Tilling the blue pitcher on the nightstand, water rushed into the ornate basin below. Dipping a rag into the cool water, I began to wash the wine from my face. It had been such a stressful night. Perhaps the empty feeling inside was fear of the unknown. Or fear that Diluc would wake up and change his mind. That he'd send me away for good once he realized he could never be with someone of such low status. Someone who didn't couldn't even keep up public appearance at a ball. Maybe, it would just take me slipping up once when I was wearing a mask? Then he'd send me away from the manor. I finished cleaning up, then tossed the water out the window. Fixing the pitcher and basin back in place, I reached below the nightstand and pulled out my nightgown. Slipping on the flowy gown, I turned down my sheets and got comfortable. This guest room had been mine for as long as I could remember. While I still lived in the cottage by the river with my mother, I spent more nights at the mansion than at home. Diluc and I would rush through his paperwork every night, and I'd help get his gear ready to go protect Mondstat. I was his sidekick in many ways. Spending so much time there at night, it just made sense for me to sleep here too. We were a great team. Plus, the close proximity made things easier and less suspicious… But that wasn't the whole truth. It was more so that my mother had met someone new, and he had moved into our shared home. He was a nice man, a retired Knight of Favonius, but I just couldn't relax around him. He was stern about me not going out after dark, so staying over at the mansion became more and more frequent. Which was better for mom and Mr.Godfrey's partnership. But while I spent more nights away, mom started to believe there was something between Diluc and me, so she was happy to see me leave home. She was going to be overjoyed to hear the news that we confessed. Though, I'm sure she'll say kicking me out was the reason we finally admitted our feelings, which was not the whole truth. Still, I did miss my own bed sometimes. Pressing my back to the headboard, I curled my knees up and rested my head between them. Sucking in a deep breath, small tears slipped past again. There was too much happening. I couldn't think about one thing for too long. So much good just happened. Why? Why was I thinking about the bad? A familiar rasp at the door rang through the room. "Come in." Wiping my eyes, I sat up and pulled the covers up to my neck. "You're crying again." He walked into the candlelight. I could tell he had cleaned up before coming to see me. He was wearing one of his loose puffy shirts and some cotton pants; his hair had been smoothed and pulled into a low ponytail, water dripping from the ends. It didn't matter what he wore. He always looked unbelievably handsome. "Was it Elzer? He knows it's not your fault. He was just worried about our trade deal." "There's just so much to think about. I can't let myself be happy." I rubbed my eyes again. "What if you realize I'm not good enough for you? Or what if my mother's partner treats you poorly because you quit the Knights? Then that couple, what if they stop working with you and it hurts the business because of me? No one is ever going to see me as anything more than a gold digger." My brain let loose, new concerns and problems being added to my mix. "I'm so negative right now, and I know you probably just want to be happy that we feel the same way…but- I'm so sorry. "He pulled back the covers and crawled in with me. Wrapping me in his arms, the blanket went over our heads, and Diluc settled down. "There you go, having to comfort me like a child." I rested my hand on his shoulder. "You sure you could learn to love a mess like me?" "I already love you." He rubbed patterns on my back, pressing a kiss to the lump on my forehead. "You've been like this since we were children, plagued with worries beyond your control. I know that after you let it out, you always feel better. And that the minute you go silent, that's when I really need to do some digging." He paused drawing on my back and instead moved to play with my hair. "We'll figure it all out as we go, all the what's and if's. We'll take them one at a time, starting with the one I have control over." "Woah." He flipped me over, hovering inches from my face. He pinned me between his legs, the v neck of his shirt hanging open so I could see the red hairs on his chest. "You could be from the richest family in Mondstat or poorest, and I'd still want to be with you." He kissed me, pressing down just until our bodies touched. "I'd go as far as to say, if you were a member of the Fatui, I'd still be smitten. I would certainly find a way to break your ties with them, but I couldn't stop loving you. So, you are more than enough for me, and if anyone makes you feel differently, then I will handle it." "That's a bold statement coming from you." I ran my fingers through his ponytail as it hung over his shoulder. "I can't argue with that logic, but I promise I'm not a member of the Fatui." I wrapped my arms around his waist, encouraging him to squish me with his full weight. "I'm going to crush you." He fought against me, but I only nuzzled his neck, blowing raspberries. "Amber, hey." "I know. But I'd also like to point out how improper it is for you to be in my room at this hour. So, I'd like to be crushed as repayment… please." I let go of one side of his hip and wiped my eyes. "You are right. It is improper." He lowered himself a little more but didn't fully lay on me. "A true gentlemen would never stay this late with a proper young lady. However, there is something else I want that's a little scandalous." "What could that be?" I gasped, my lungs not fully expanding as his weight sunk down on my chest. He noticed as he sat up to his previous position. "A kiss?" He moved his elbow up and cupped my face. His eyes glimmered with the flame that was lighting up the room. His touch was gentle but so firm I couldn't imagine being in another person's embrace. At that moment, there were only two people in the world, and I was madly in love with one of them.   "That sounds quite proper to me. You should always kiss your lover goodnight." I stuttered a little, unable to keep up the playful banter as I looked at his lips. The smile that spread on his face made the butterflies in my stomach flutter. Archons, I was smitten.   His thumb brushed my lower lip before he brought his mouth down for a chaste kiss. Testing the waters, he hovered millimeters above me, and I stole his lips in a deeper kiss. Having a lack of experience in the field, I matched the pattern he set. Just like dancing, I tried to take the lead and failed miserably. So I did was I was best at, adding the fun flourishes. I curled my fingers into his hair and snaked my hand up his shirt and across his chest. He matched my movements, caressing my face and tilting my head up to deepen the kiss. Every star in the sky dulled in comparison to the explosion of light that spread over my body. He shifted back, catching his breath. he smoothed my hair and peppered, kissing around my face before setting back. "Thank you." He laced our fingers together, pulling my hand to his mouth and kissing my knuckles.     "Will you stay tonight?" I took our intertwined hands and kissed his knuckles in return. "I don't want you to leave just yet." "As you wish." He got behind me, adjusting the covers we had tossed around earlier. "Now, let's get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow." I laid my head on my pillow and scooted back until we were slotted against each other. His hand wrapped around my shoulders in a reassuring squeeze. "I love you." "I love you more." It took a while for all the blood pumping through my body to relax again, but once it did, I fell into a deep and peaceful sleep. Dreams of dancing through the clouds with Diluc filled my head, and I had the best rest of my entire life. Next to the man I dearly loved.   

The End

Please Comment Like & Share so I know you want more Geinshein content  

[not-the-teen-witch]

Daddy Issues Lucius Malfoy x Daughter! Reader

Tiktok has done its magic and my obsession with Lucius Malfoy has sparked. Or it might just be my daddy issues acting up again, who know lol. Anyways, reader is Draco’s twin, a Gryffindor, and is basically the Sirius Black of the Malfoy family. She/her pronouns used. No warnings. Though you should know this is my first fanfic after going MIA on Wattpad and Quotev for a few years whoopsies.

Takes place over the course of first year. Listen to “Daddy Issues” by the Neighbourhood while reading to set the mood. 

I might make this into a multiple part story. But not follow the scenes strictly, just random drabbles here and there?? Idk, hopefully this won’t flop lol.

Daddy Issues

You ask me what I'm thinking about I'll tell you that I'm thinking about Whatever you're thinking about Tell me something that I'll forget And you might have to tell me again It's crazy what you'll do for a friend

“Now, Y/N. Just like your brother did it. Just run straight through that brick wall, and you’ve made.” Your mother, Narcissa, says gently patting you on the back to motivate you.

You bit your lips to hide your nerves. Straight through it, huh? Oh, merlin. What if it decides I’m not good enough for it. I’ll surely make a fool out of myself. 

You grip tightly around your trolley, “Are you sur-”

“We don’t have all day now, darling. The train leaves at eleven, sharp. Enough twisting with your thumbs and get a move on.” Your father cuts you off. 

You grimace. Your relationship with your father, the oh so great Lucius Malfoy, wasn’t the best, at least at the moment. Don’t get it wrong, you’re his precious baby girl, the absolute apple of his eye, but you have a few, in his words, tweaks in your personality that his purist mindset just did not share.  

Go ahead and cry, little girl Nobody does it like you do I know how much it matters to you I know that you got daddy issues And if you were my little girl I'd do whatever I could do I'd run away and hide with you I love that you got daddy issues And I do too

It began when you received your Hogwarts letter on your 11th birthday earlier that summer.

“Dad! I got my letter!” You say, racing down the steps of the Malfoy Manner to see your father.

He replies from his study room with a, “Don’t run, you’ll fall, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes, always so overprotective. When you reach him you wave the letter in front of him, “Look! I finally got it!”

He stops reading his book and looks up, all while shifting from his area on the velvet green armchair to make room for you. You immediately take a seat in the small space. 

“Let’s see what we have here now, shall?” You nod your head at him as he opens the letter. “Ah yes, Hogwarts. Truly shocking how they want someone with the likes of you on their grounds.”

He has a twinkly in his eye when he says this. You know he’s joking though, that’s just the interactions between you two. 

You grab his face with your hands to get his attention, “Are you going to miss me?”

“Miss you? My own and only daughter who wakes up every morning with a mission to have my hair turn grey early. Miss you, you say?”

“Dad,” you groan.

He hides a smirk, “Happy birthday, my dear. You’ll make a wonderful Slytherin and teach those mudbloods who’s in charge.” 

About that..... “Dad, no.” 

“Pardon?” 

“Stop that, don’t call them mudbloods. And what makes you so sure I’ll be put in Slytherin?”

“Ha,” he lets out a bark of laughter. “There’s never been a Malfoy that fit in any other house. That’s absurd.” 

I tried to write your name in the rain But the rain never came So I made with the sun The shame always comes at the worst time

You look down.

“Y/N.” You look back at your father. 

His grey eyes that mirror yours perfectly, look at you coldly “Don’t bring shame to the Malfoy family. Remember that.” 

You ask me what I'm thinking about I'll tell you that I'm thinking about Whatever you're thinking about Tell me something that I'll forget And you might have to tell me again It's crazy what you'll do for a friend

“Make me proud.” Your father says, right before you enter the train. 

He flashes you one of his rare, genuine smiles and kisses you on the forehead. 

You heard him, Y/N. Make father proud. 

Go ahead and cry, little girl Nobody does it like you do I know how much it matters to you

You find the first empty compartment you see on the train. Your brother already went off with some of the other pureblood children. And you’re not exactly fond of them. 

There’s a boy with glasses and another with red hair when you enter. 

“Ehm, hi...” You awkwardly say. 

The boy with glasses smiles at you. “Hi there.” 

“Would it be alright if I sat here?” 

“Sure, take a seat.” 

I know that you got daddy issues And if you were my little girl I'd do whatever I could do I'd run away and hide with you I love that you got daddy issues

You learn the two boys you sat with were Harry Potter and a Weasley named Ron. They were charming, although you were sure your father would disagree. Luckily you didn’t tell them your last name. Who knows what outburst that’d cause from the redhead. 

You stand next to them as students get called up to get sorted.

Your stomach feels like it’s being shaken by mountain trolls and you try to control your breathing.

“GRYFFINDOR”

“RAVENCLAW” 

“HUFFLEPUFF” 

The sorting hat continues to call out the names of the houses as the students go up, one by one. 

Your twin gets called. 

Just as Draco takes a seat, the hat doesn’t even touch his head when it yells-

“SLYTHERIN” 

Draco has a look of pride on his face. Typical. 

“As expected,” mutters Ron to you and Harry. 

“Y/N Malfoy” 

Oh dear. Your turn.

“ -wait you’re his twin?” Harry look sat you confused.

You see your twin brother flash you a thumbs up.

You ignore them both and step forward. 

“Another Malfoy I see. But you’re more interesting than the rest. Unexpected. Ambitious? Yes, very much so but there’s also bravery. Lots of it too.” The sorting hat says.

No! You’re yelling in your head. Bravery? That’s Gryffindor. Please no. Father would disown me. 

“Slytherin then? No, no no. Tell daddy he’s in for a surprise because Slytherin not fit for you. You fit in-” 

“GRYFFINDOR!” The hat exclaims.

The whole hall murmurs. “A Malfoy? Not in Slytherin?” “Gryffindor? Merlin, someone alert the Daily Prophet.” 

You get nudged towards the Gryffindor table, slowly you make your way.

 You hear a voice, “Well Fred, you know what this means.”

“I sure do, George.”

“WE GOT A MALFOY! WE GOT A MALFOY!” They chant and slowly the rest of the table begins to cheer loudly. The Slytherin’s table watches in awe. 

Your brother refuses to make eye contact with you. Your stomach drop at that.

I keep on tryin' to let you go I'm dyin' to let you know How I'm getting on I didn't cry when you left at first But now that you're dead, it hurts This time, I gotta know Where did my daddy go?

“First years! Follow me!” 

You begin to line up with the other first years. You stand near Ron and Harry. Ron gives you a suspicious look.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt out. “I should have told you I’m a Malfoy.”

“You really shou-” Ron begins to say.

“No, it’s alright.” Says Harry. “You had your reasonings. Besides the point” he give Ron a sharp look, “You’re in Gryffindor now, that’s all that matters.”

“All that matters?” Uh oh, it’s your brother. “Wait until father hears about this. He’ll be mortified. You can kiss your spot on the family tree goodbye Y/N.” He looks disgusted at you.

“Leave her alone!” A first year girl with puffy hair and large teeth says. 

“And what are you going to do about it, mudblood.”

That sits off a rage off anger in you. 

“Oh shut it you prick!” Your brother looks at you, shocked. “I’ve had enough with your bigotry. Go ahead, tell father. We all know how much you want to be his favorite child, you kiss up!” You let out a angry sigh at that. 

“Well then, keep an eye out for a letter tomorrow morning by him. How does a Howler sound?” 

The girl with the puffy hair grabs your arm. “Come on”

“You know, I think you and I will get along just great.” 

I'm not entirely here Half of me has disappeared

It had been a few days since the sorting ceremony. Classes were already in full swing. 

You became very close friends with Hermione Granger, the girl who helped you out when your brother was acting like a complete, wild ferret. However, you and her got along quite well. You two had similar interests and were very dedicated in your classes. Granted you knew a bit more than her since you were taught were carefully by your father.

Speaking of father, you haven’t heard from him yet. But there’s no doubt in your mind that Draco hasn’t sent a letter yet. 

You shake out of your thought and make your way to the great hall. You spot the Weasleys and Harry and make a bee-line to them. 

“Hey there, mate!” One of the twins nod in your direction. 

“No mail yet?” You immediately ask the lot.

“Blimey, at least eat something first before you start interrogating us.” Ron mumbles, his cheeks filled with food. 

Harry shakes his head, “Not yet, expecting a letter?” 

“You could say that.” You groan.

You grab a piece of toast and spread butter over it when you hear the sounds of the owls flying into the great hall. You quickly scan them over, keeping your eyes peeled for any Malfoy family owls.

You look over to your twin, an owl drops a package of goodies. Must be from mother, you think bitterly in your head. You didn’t get a package. 

The thought makes your stomach drop. They must know then.

“Huh, would you look at that. It’s a howler!” Percy Weasley points out.

The twins glace at you.

“Y/N....” One of the twins begin to say.

The howler drops right in front of you. Oh grandfather Abraxas, please help me.

In fancy calligraphy that you recognize very well, the name Lucius Malfoy is written. 

“So... are you going to open that?” George asks with an eyebrow raised.

“The longer you wait, the louder it’ll be. But hey this is Lucius Malfoy so you don’t really have much luck any way.” Fred jokes, trying to lighten the mood. 

You hands shake as you hold it, “Should- should i open it?” 

“It’s going to burst any second, no need for that.” Harry look bewildered.

“Oh to hell with it.“ You open the letter. 

“Y/N NARCISSA MALFOY!” Your father’s voice booms, the great hall quiets down to listen in. “A GRYFFINDOR?? NEVER IN THE MALFOY FAMILY NAME HAS THIS HAPPENED BEFORE. A BLOOD TRAITOR IS WHAT YOU ARE. IT DISGUSTS ME TO CALL YOU A CHILD OF MINE.”

Your face turns an unnatural shade of red but the howler continues in a calmer voice. “My own child, my little girl. Tarnishing the family name like this. Absurd. Don’t even think about coming home this winter. And enjoying the company of Mudbloods and other blood traitors? Tsk, a shame. Such a great shame. Don’t bother sending any letters, they will immediately be discarded of.” 

The letter explodes and the only evidence that it even happened it the looks of pity you getting from the three other houses. The Slytherin table is bursting with laughter. 

“Ignore them Y/N. Not worth your time. The Slytherin gits and your father. If you could even call a man like that a dad.” Ron shakes his head.

You catch your brother’s eyes, he has a soft, sad look but quickly switches when he catches you looking. 

“Did you bloody hear that? I could never be such an embarrassment to the wizarding name.” Your brother boasts. 

Your friends try to divert your attention but all you can think of is your dad. 

No. Don’t be sad Y/N, you say to yourself. You’re meant to be a Gryffindor, and you’ll prove daddy wrong. Right? You’re a Malfoy after all. 

Go ahead and cry, little girl Nobody does it like you do I know how much it matters to you I know that you got daddy issues

[theodora3022]

Good Morning, Or Good Night(Pt.3)

Summary: Night and morning series part three! This time for my favourite boys + a little gift for a friend!

Notes: These are probably even more self indulgent than others since I love them too much. Sigma and Tetchou especially, soft but strong boys are my weakness-

Next part I will cover Yosano, Higuchi and Kouyou since I recently noticed there is a lack of content for the beautiful BSD ladies around here…

Tags: @rose-tragedy​ I hope you like this surprise gift! I included Lovecraft for you if that’s okay! I tried my best to write him... @dragoning1​ here’s sigma as you asked! 

Adding a cut for the last two boys since there will be manga spoilers.

Warnings: Fluff, self indulgent content, spoilers for the manga for anyone who only seen the anime!

Edgar Allan Poe

Bedtime: Whenever you go to sleep, or he may just stay up all night reading or writing novels.

Sometimes(it happens a lot) Edgar would get too invested in a book to eat dinner or sleep, you’ll have to remind him! Make sure he stays healthy and fed :) Brew him some of his favorite tea blends to make sure he stays hydrated!

“Ah, it’s dinnertime already? Thank you my dear, I will come right after I finish this paragraph. No Karl, you cannot go first.”

His ideal way to spend the nights would include :snuggling under a blanket with you and Karl, reading books under dim candle lights near a fireplace(if it’s winter of course).

But if you insist, Edgar will come shopping with you! As long as he gets to stop by a bookstore on the way. Be prepared to drag him out of there after two hours-

Since he lives alone in canon, I imagine Edgar usually orders takeout or buy bulks of frozen dinner at a time to avoid cooking himself. If you are willing to eat these with him, that’s no problem! But if you want to cook up things yourself, Edgar would be happy to eat them. He doesn’t strike me as the picky type, so as long it’s edible he won’t complain and will just swallow. His face would lit up if it’s delicious though!

Edgar doesn’t need to “Go to work” per se, being the guild’s planner allows him to work from home, as long as the plans are available for pick up by the end of the week. So you bet him likes to sleep in. Unless you have a regular job he will want you to stay in bed with him and Karl.

If you decide to urge him to get up, however, Edgar will grumble like a little kid. He would only begrudgingly get up after thirty minutes of you lecturing the benefits of being an early riser.

Help him brush that messy hair, tie his tie in different styles, much like Ranpo he loves being taken care of. Edgar will pack a lunch for you if you have to leave for work!

Howard Phillps Lovecraft

Bedtime:...Bold of you to assume he has one. Like he won’t just fall asleep randomly on the couch or anywhere really. It would be more useful to know about his conscious schedule.

I assume you work in the Guild along with him, if they have 9-5 work days he will try to get enough sleep in the evening but no promises. (A/N: I seriously cannot find any info on this forgive me ahhh)

He doesn’t mind if you play with his hair, in fact he loves it when you buy all kinds of elastic and hairclips for them. Howard never bothered to keep it tidy himself, but it feels...quite nice. Maybe he is just too lazy to care.

Regular shopping?Like for clothes? Buy him some chocolates on your way home, he’s going to bed. If you want to go grocery shopping? Howard is putting his coat on and ready to go. He might not have much passion for other things,  but when it comes to food consider him interested.

“No, we don’t have space for this much of Icecream? That’s disappointing. Maybe we just need a bigger fridge.”

Do not be surprised if you two come home with fifty boxes of ice cream of different flavours. His tencicles will help to carry them!

If work calls for early risings, you would need to get Howard out of bed and get him dressed. How he managed to keep his position in the Guild before is a mystery. Fitzgerald didn’t fire him for being late to work this much?

(A/N: An attempt was made, please don’t criticize me too harshly ahhhh)

Proceed with caution! The following section contains manga spoilers!

Suehiro Tetchou

Bedtime:10pm, but on days off he is willing to push it to 11pm.

As soldiers, Tetchou and you have to follow a healthy sleeping schedule, to preserve yourselves in best condition for any emergencies. But he cannot say no to your watery eyes when you plead on holidays. One hour is all he will compromise.

Like Tachihara, this guy loves to work out! Be his workout buddy, time his planks and count his pushups! Tetchou would even let you sit on his back while doing push ups just to get some extra weight and to hear your giggle.

While he prefers to exercise the evenings away, Tetchou is not opposed to watching some cheesy rom coms maybe twice a week. Expect him to  make odd remarks to the storyline and the characters though.

“Why is her hair braided that way? Oh, it’s not important to the plot? Alright. Wait, there is a dog, and he is not important either? Then why include him at all?”

Tetchou loves cuddling, would often bury his face on the crook of your neck and tickle you with his breath and unruly hair.

An Emergency mission in the middle of the night is nothing foreign to him. But you won’t hear him if you are not needed. Tetchou knows his way of being stealthy! But if you are needed, expect him to carry you out of bed an hour before, dressing you in your uniforms and putting your hair into a quick ponytail if you are still sleepy.

He is not like the last two lazy ones, Tetchou got  training to do! The mornings you two would go for a daily run in the base gym, followed by a set of stretch exercises. Then if you are lazy and would just prefer to eat in the base cafeteria, Tetchou would come along. But if you want to cook something in the little kitchen of your shared quarters, let him help with the food preparation!

Learn some reasonable dishes of his favorite color combo, and you will have a Tetchou smiling non-stop while stuffing himself. He will try to cook some regular food too, but the taste...I won’t comment on it.

Sigma

Bedtime:??? most nights you literally have to force him to go to bed at a reasonable hour!

Life as a casino manager is a busy one, with overtimes. Even with your help, Sigma would overload himself with work and get into a bit of a workaholic state often.

You cannot count how many times you had to carry him to bed at midnight. He would always apologize for bothering you, and even when you insist he is not, Sigma would still buy you something to make it up. Maybe a nice dress or another set of colorful fountain pens.

“I know I get crazy sometimes, but you and the casino is all I have, love. Please forgive me for letting you worry. Thank you for bearing with me.”

When he is actually free, or you convinced him to relax for a bit, Sigma would probably be willing to accompany you to anywhere you want. The world is still new to him, so many things to explore and try. If you take him to an amusement park he would probably scream on the rollercoasters but want to try them again!

Saying Sigma is the dictionary definition of clingy would be an understatement. Can’t blame him though, he got major abandonment issues, or separation anxiety, whichever you wish to call it. Even when he is working, you need to be somewhere in sight. It gets even harder when you two are in bed, since Sigma will not let you go to the washroom even if he is deep in the dream realm. You know he cannot control himself while sleeping, so just remember to not drink too much water before bed!

He would have the chef of the Casino restaurant to cook the meals since he does not wish to bother himself or you with these time consuming things. But if you baked some chocolate chip cookies, be ready for this man trailing after you like a needy puppy!

Part 1 for ADA 

Part 2 for Port Mafia

[agathasangel]

because you’re worth it (cordelia goode x fem!reader)

Hi this is a shitty vent fic because I’m sad

Warnings: mentions of past bullying/verbal abuse/mental abuse, implied eating issues, reader just has very low self esteem in general, some teacher/student stuff but reader is over 18. Angst and maybe hurt/comfort i guess.

Summary: You never thought you were anything exceptional. In fact, you never thought much of yourself at all, and your family and peers didn’t seem to either. But one day, after finally being able to access your telekinesis in a moment of fear for your life, you were sent to an academy for girls with exceptional powers. You found a home and a family, but still never felt quite at home until one meeting with the headmistress who seemed to understand your pain.

“Remember (y/n), intention! Your powers are innate, you still have it in you!”, Zoe told you during one of your lessons. You began to really believe it, and it worked! The candle glided right to your hand like it was nothing. Normally your telekinesis only showed up when you were angry or scared, and it was almost uncontrollable.

Your first time performing telekinesis was when you were in high school. One of the many boys who bullied and harassed you relentlessly tried to run you over with his car as a “joke” when you were walking home. In a moment of fear and shock, his car flipped over. He survived, but was badly injured and the incident made the news, and you were interviewed because you were the only witness. About a year or so later, after you graduated, your parents got a call from Cordelia Goode, asking to meet with you. Little did either of them know that in the past year, there have been more incidents. Things would fall when you were angry, explode or break when you were scared. You knew you were doing it with your mind somehow, but knew you’d just sound crazy if you tried to explain it to anyone.

When you met with Cordelia, she seemed impressed by how strong your powers were. It had been so long since anyone seemed impressed by you.

“Oh, it only happens when I’m feeling some strong emotion, like when I’m angry or scared. I don’t even know if I really belong here, my parents say I-”

“That often is how it starts, (y/n). But I think you’ll master it quickly. And you do belong here. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt.” The older woman walked around the table and touched your shoulder, closing her eyes for a moment. The touch felt nice, safe. You liked it.

“I’m sorry about what that boy did to you. Or I should say, tried to do. He got what he deserved.”

Cordelia seemed nice. Everyone often talked about how kind she was, how deeply she cared about all of her girls. But there was a part of you that, despite everything, made you doubt that her kindness would really extend to you. You were so used to seeing the worst sides of the people with the best reputations. You learned to not judge people based on how they treat you, because sometimes even the “kindest” people were mean to you, and you didn’t know why.

But that feeling seemed to fade away, as Cordelia was always kind to you. You still didn’t have any friends at the academy, as you were too scared to talk to anybody for very long. You didn’t think you deserved to be around the other girls. You were scared they would make fun of you if you talked to them for too long, so you often cut your conversations off quickly. Some of the other girls thought you were stuck up, but most of them understood you were just shy.

The day you learned to control your telekinesis was one of the best days. You felt like you were a real witch and knew that you did deserve to be there after all.

About a year after you were admitted, you still struggled with seeing yourself as a real part of the school, and the coven. You couldn’t believe any of them actually wanted you, especially not the Supreme. You knew you were a real witch, and that you belonged there, but you still saw yourself as less than everyone else. You always saw yourself that way, because of what everyone told you. They said you were ugly, they criticized your body, called you stupid, annoying, weird, a freak, even your parents told you that maybe you deserved to be bullied. You still felt bad for taking up space, even though this was supposed to be your home.

One day, you were in the greenhouse late at night, working on a potion for the project you had to do, when Cordelia came in. 

You immediately started to apologize, “Cordelia, I’m so sorry, I’ll go now..” you said as you packed up and left.

“No, no, stay here and finish. You don’t need to apologize, you have every right to be here. We can share.”

“Thank you, Cordelia.”

“This is as much your home as it is mine, honey. Now what are you working on?”

“Oh, it’s just a potion I need for my incantation class tomorrow. I’m almost done, I’ll be out of your way soon-”

“(Y/n), you’re not in my way at all! Actually, I’d like you to stay if you don’t mind, I’ve been wanting to talk to you for quite some time now.”

Those weren’t good words. Were you in trouble? Was she kicking you out?

She clearly saw your face because she said “No, don’t worry, you’re not in any kind of trouble. I just want to make sure you’re alright,” said Cordelia as she checked on all of her plants.

“Why?”

“Because I care about my girls. You’re doing wonderfully in your classes, you’re becoming a talented witch. But you’ve been here over a year and you barely talk, you hide in your room, skip meals entirely or not eat when you do show up. I see all of that. I see how small you try to make yourself seem around everyone. I know you’re shy and that you’ve been hurt before, but you don’t need to hide from any of us. You especially don’t need to hide from me. Come here.”

You came closer to Cordelia, and, abandoning her plants, she hugged you tight. It had been so long since you felt affection like that.

“You don’t deserve that, (y/n), you don’t deserve any of that. I saw so much of your life just now. Every awful, untrue thing you’ve been made to believe about yourself, the horrible things people have said and done to you. You alone, here, terrified to speak to any of the girls, or even me.”

“You saw all of that?” You said as you started to cry.

“Yes. Shh, don’t cry. You’re okay... don’t worry, I’ve got you. Poor thing, you’re shaking,” she held you tighter, running her hand through your hair.

“You know, (y/n), I do understand how you feel.”

“You? But you’re-“

“I wasn’t always the Supreme, you know. In fact I was probably the last witch anyone expected to be the next Supreme. Before passing the Seven Wonders, I suffered loss after loss after loss. My mother hated me when all I wanted was her approval. My husband was secretly a witch hunter who only married me for ‘access’. Everyone told me I was weak and unworthy, and I believed it. I didn’t think I belonged here, or anywhere.”

“I’m so sorry Cordelia. I had no idea.”

“And when I stopped believing all of that, that was when my powers grew. I think your powers will grow as well once you start seeing yourself as a worthy part of our family, because you are.”

“You really think so?”

“You know, (y/n), I’ve always seen so much of myself in you.”

“Thank you, Cordelia. That means a lot.”

“And there’s one more thing...”

“What is it?”

“I love you, (y/n). I don’t know what kind of love it is yet but I know I love you. I thought at first I just cared for you like I would a little sister. But there’s a part of me that thinks I love you in another way.... of course I don’t really know yet. I would need some time. And I would never abuse my power over you. After all, my main concern is to protect you.”

“Cordelia... I think I love you too.” And you shyly kissed her on the cheek.

“You missed”, she said as she kissed you right on the lips, and you kissed back.

“Take some time and think about it. It’s been an emotional night. I won’t pressure you either way, and no matter what happens, I will always be by your side.”

You spent the rest of the night gardening with Cordelia and just feeling her presence until you both went to bed.

“Goodnight, (y/n). Remember everything I told you, my wonderful girl.”

“I will, Cordelia. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

[commonwealthoccurences]

HCs: How The Companions Confess/Date A Tsundere Sole

Note: Did my best to capture the tsundere personality! Please let me know if this is totally off base and thank you again for the request.

CW: The mildest of suggestive warnings

The Set Up:

Sole wasn’t the easiest to befriend. Sure, they had their personable side where they could calm any settler, convince any negotiator, haggle at every vendor, etc. Once things got past that, got personal, though? It seemed they shut down. They brushed off affection, went silent at compliments and reassurances, and struggled to be open with their emotions. There was no question it wasn’t a lack of affection, but a lack of expression. They defended their friends fiercely. 

Once the companions began thinking of Sole as more than a friend and started looking more closely at their behavior, though, they saw how flustered they became when shown affection. It wasn’t simply a dismissive personality; they felt something and immediately short circuited. Maybe it was a reluctance to show a sign of weakness, who knows? Regardless, the companions had their work cut out for them when it came to confessing and developing a relationship.

Cait:

The Confession:

The tsundere meets the next most emotionally blocked person of the Commonwealth

Cait didn’t have her own feelings under control, that’s for sure

She cursed loudly when she realized how she felt and how that would affect things

The worst part is, Sole was the only person who struggled with things like that more than she did

The urge to scream nearly overcame her self restraint

However, she steeled herself, and began dropping hints

She watched as Sole’s cheeks lit up red whenever she threw her arm around them playfully before they shrugged the weight off and moved away

The hardest part was reminding herself that she was right; they felt the same way about her

They hesitated to sit down when she announced she needed to talk to them

Never making eye contact, they listened to her as she stumbled through her feelings, searching blindly in the dark for the confidence she once had. The confidence before she was willing to let them break her heart

The first time they spoke, it was barely a mumble, and she leaned forward to hear better

They repeated themself, hardly any louder with a “Feel the same way.” before they abruptly stood up and walked towards the window, looking out as they chewed on their nails

Cait had to laugh to herself; they may be an emotionally constipated mess, but now they were her emotionally constipated mess

The Relationship:

The longer the relationship lasted, the more confident Cait became in seeking out affection even if they didn’t enthusiastically reciprocate every time

She would hug them from behind and they would bow their head, cheeks red for the nth time, and simply continue what they were doing before

When they did reciprocate she made sure to give obvious cues that she was happy about it; she’d grin even wider, hug them tighter, and press a kiss to their cheek

Once they got truly comfortable in their relationship, Sole began seeking out affection themself

They were fond of quickly side hugging Cait and taking off immediately, but the first time they did, it made Cait’s day

The day they crawled into bed beside her and curled up into her side without hiding their face she knew they were making progress

Curie:

The Confession:

Curie isn’t sure what to do or think at first

From what she knows of human body language, ever cue they give should indicate they don’t care for her, but then when someone tries to insult or hurt her, they don’t hesitate to put themself in the line of fire

At first she takes studying their behavior as a chance to become more knowledgeable

Then, she begins to notice their smaller, less noticeable behaviors

They get flustered when she touches them, brush off her affection, but with red cheeks and shaking hands

That’s when she realizes there’s more to their habits than she’d realized at first, and comes to the conclusion that they’re simply overwhelmed when they’re faced with caring for someone

Somehow this makes her feel even more fond for them; she came to terms with her own feelings long ago

She’s learned to be quite responsible with her emotions and sits them down to talk almost right after she realizes they feel the same way

She doesn’t expect a grand response

When Sole fumbles their words, messing with their own hands as they stare into their lap, she’s patient

Eventually they get out that they feel the same and she relaxes into her seat with a sweet smile

The Relationship:

Curie’s extremely open about affection, so she and Sole are polar opposites

She presses kisses to their cheeks whenever she passes them, pulls them in for tight hugs every time they return from a job, etc

They greet her with the same embarrassed, red face and mild response

They’re not big on PTA and by not big I mean they get completely flustered and struggle to respond in any way

However, they give her shy hugs and quick kisses when they’re alone, disappearing as fast as they appeared afterwards

She’s secure enough she doesn’t question whether or not they care, she just knows they have a different way of showing it

Danse:

The Confession:

An unstoppable force meets an immovable object

The world will stop spinning before something goes on between these two

All jokes aside, Sole will actually have to say something first

The two struggle to even look at each other; at one point Haylen threw her hands up and said “Jesus Christ, I think the only people here who don’t know you guys are into each other are you two”

Safe to say there was no longer anyone on the Prydwen who didn’t know about their feelings

After that it was a miracle if the two were within the same room

Maxson had had enough of the two best soldiers dancing around each other and sent them on a mission together. Only them.

They moved in complete silence almost the entire time- they knew each other well enough that they didn’t need to communicate verbally to have each others backs luckily- until a specific night

They were camped out, eating beans out of a can on the cold ground, and Sole suddenly said, “So.” looking extremely uncomfortable

Danse’s head shot up before he even knew it

They looked at each other for a moment before Danse nodded and just went “Yeah, I feel the same.” quietly

“Cool”

It felt more like a business transaction

The Relationship:

Afterwards, they returned to their normal short, business faces in the field

They were on the same page about physical affection and it took a long while before they were completely comfortable with showing affection

The upside to this arrangement was that they would often break into flustered, quiet laughter together whenever they were cuddling

It’s easy to be comfortable with your embarrassment and hesitancy when the other person’s just as embarrassed as you

Deacon:

The Confession:

Total opposite dynamic of Danse and Sole

Deacon loves teasing them, to the point where even Des had her head in her hands at some points

It’s a miracle Sole’s left standing after spending time with Deacon. He’s constantly flirting with them, teasingly leaning down to look them in the eye when they bow their head

When they have a stony expression in response to his affection, he just amps it up

Wants them flustered by the end of the of the interaction

Honestly, if they keep up their cold appearance, it makes them the perfect duo

Deacon loves messing with them and they never really break

He’s great at denying his own feelings; he convinces himself he only thinks he’s interested in them because he’s so in the habit of flirting with them

One day, Deacon’s been bugging them nonstop and they finally break, but not in a way that they show they’re flustered

Instead, they step into his personal space and kiss him to shut him up

(It works)

When they pull away their expression hasn’t changed even a little bit

They look him up and down for a moment and then turn and keep walking

That’s the first time they short circuit Deacon

The Relationship:

Not much changes between him messing with them and them being in a relationship

Sometimes Sole catches him off guard by getting brave all of a sudden but they always disappear right after

He’s often left calling after them, asking why they abandoned him so fast

It takes the rest of the Railroad months to realize anythings changed between the two

It’s when Sole has to leave for an extremely dangerous recon mission and they abruptly kiss Deacon so hard even he’s surprised that they realize they’re together

Gage:

The Confession:

Between Gage outright having aggressive undertones and Sole’s flat tones in response to everything Gage says, it’s hard for the raiders to believe they even get along

The pair know better though

They just struggle to make a move

Gage is terrified of letting someone in again, Sole doesn’t think they’re good enough, and together they make the world’s most anticlimactic mix

Gage has a little jealousy issue

When Mason makes some flirtatious comments, he gets angry

As soon as he and Sole get back to the Overboss quarters he faces them, “So are we coming to terms with this shit yet?”

“Excuse me?”

He moves slow enough that they can stop him, but grabs their face in his hands and kisses them

When they pull away they pause for a moment before replying, “Yeah. I can deal with that.”

They turn and return to business right away. “So what are we doing with the kiddie kingdom territory?”

They infuriate him in the best way possible

The Relationship:

Sole doesn’t particularly react to affection; they basically ignore it

Gage takes this as permission and often keeps an arm around their waist when they’re discussing something

Sometimes slaps their ass as he walks by just to get a reaction

They often turn and glare, or give him a flat expression

He knows they’ll tell him directly if he’s crossing a line, so he knows they don’t actually care

They show affection in the most nonchalant way

Often they’ll be talking about the plans for the raiders and just drop into his lap while talking to him, not reacting at all to their own movement

Hancock:

The Confession:

Quite similar to Deacon

Loves jokingly flirting with them but honestly can’t tell if they care for him in return or not

He comes to terms with his feelings quite easily; he knew there was something that was gonna draw them in about them when they walked through the gates to Goodneighbor and simply flicked their cigarette at Flynn’s threats, not changing their calm expression

They react to his flirtations the same way; they simply don’t

Eventually, he has to tell them; life’s short after all

When they listen to him, expressionless, but respond with a “Yeah, same.” he takes it as a win

The Relationship:

The only thing that changes is that Hancock knows they’re happy with the flirting he does with them

Their pushing him away eases and eventually they find themself relaxing into his embraces

They don’t particularly think about it. It just happened automatically over time

Still doesn’t approve of blatant PDA but they’re fine with him keeping a hand in their back pocket

MacCready:

The Confession:

Poor Mac

He has no idea what to think of the way they react to affection

On one hand they seem to hate it; on the other hand, they still stand closer to him than necessary and quirk their eyebrow, displeased, whenever someone hits on him

Eventually he realizes that’s just how they are, but it doesn’t particularly please him

He definitely wishes they had a better handle on their emotions

He’s one of the most notorious companions for getting flustered but Sole’s mannerisms get him so frustrated he ends up just blurting out how he feels, arms crossed, seeming annoyed

They nod. “Me too.”

The Relationship:

It sure as hell is a tricky relationship to navigate at first

Mac finds him frustrated a lot and eventually sits them down and has a serious discussion with them about expressing their emotions

They work on it after that to make things easier

It definitely helps

They still struggle when they’re around other people but they get a lot better about being more affectionate in private

Nick:

The Confession:

There’s… no confession moment

They kind of just ease into a relationship without discussion

They’re so casual about it and there’s so little discussion that they’re genuinely surprised when people as if they and Nick are together

Nick understood from the get go that they wouldn’t be obviously reciprocating his affection so when they didn’t react to them holding their waist, he didn’t think anything of it

Eventually this evolved and they were dating without realizing it

The Relationship:

At some point after everyone else in Diamond City starts asking questions, they do talk a little and decide, yeah, they’re in a relationship, just forgot to talk about it

Almost nothing changes when they do, though

Nick is in the habit of showing nonchalant affection without expecting anything back

When Sole does initiate it’s rare and quick, but he appreciates it all the same

They ease a little more into the affectionate side of things easily after they have the discussion about their relationship

Piper:

The Confession:

She gets flustered easily and Sole has a mask of stone when it comes to flirting

Overall, just a mess

She struggles to make a move on them and when she does they don’t even react which confuses her even more

She’s the type of person to try and hide her feelings and then it all comes rushing out one day, so that’s exactly what happens

“I have feelings for you, but I can’t even tell if you want to be friends still!”

“Oh. I have feelings for you too.”

Piper’s never wanted to fight someone and kiss someone so badly at the same time

The Relationship:

She definitely has a talk with them about expressing their emotions and not pushing her away

It can get upsetting to be brushed off when showing affection

Sole puts in effort and openly accepts affection in private, but struggles to initiate it for a while

Once they start initiating affection Piper relaxes and is much more reassured in the relationship

Preston:

The Confession:

Honestly doesn’t pick up any cues that they’re into him

He barely even thinks they’re friends a lot of times; sure, they defend him fiercely, but he assumes that’s just part of them defending the Minutemen/settlers in Sanctuary

They’re so straight faced all the time it’s difficult for him to believe there’s anything more than a work relationship to them

It’s when a settler comments that they’ve never seen Sole care for someone more than they do Preston that he starts questioning his previous views

Then he notices the little things they do to help him out; they pick up shifts as soon as he mentions there’s a watch slot that needs to be filled. They bring him coffee without a word when it’s freezing out. He wakes up and finds his gun cleaned and ammo restocked.

This is what gives him the confidence to come forward about his feelings

He gives a speech about how he hopes this doesn’t change how they work together and if it’s disrespectful to cross this line he apologizes

Sole just replies with a nod and says “Surprised it took you this long.”

The Relationship:

They remain completely professional in the field/in front of settlers

In fact, very few people suspect a thing

Preston gets a little confused by the lack of affection after their talk but he realizes he never should’ve expected things to 180

He simply adapts and starts showing affection the same way they do; he wants to make sure they know he cares for them by reciprocating in a way he knows they understand

So, considering he wakes up before them, he leaves hot coffee or tea by their bed every morning right before he leaves for patrol

When they get home from a tough run across the Commonwealth they wake up to the clothes they were wearing cleaned and folded on top of their dresser

Eventually they start showing traditional affection on their own

X6-88:

The Confession:

Obviously X6 is the king of a tsundere attitude, especially if he stays with the Institute

Affection??? Who’s that

They keep track of each other well and have each other’s backs and that’s how they show affection

There’s no super-forward gestures of affection

They both know about their feelings for each other; they have the same way of showing emotion, it’s hard not to know

If X6 stays with the Institute there isn’t a relationship; there’s certainly a lot of straight-faced pining, but no relationship

The Relationship:

If X6 eventually leaves, and so does Sole, then they slowly ease into a relationship after X6 gets settled in the Commonwealth

It’s a hesitant process, but happens nonetheless, and they also get more comfortable with showing each other affection (though only in private)

Overall way more understanding of Sole’s mannerisms than the rest of the companions

[maybedefinitely404]

Not Your Typical

Genre: college AU, hurt/comfort (kind of?)

Pairings: romantic Demus, Logicality, and Prinxiety

Content: some language, autistic character, sensory overload, mentions of losing friends in the past, anxiety, unintentional self harm, Roman is kind of a jerk but he regrets it, food mentions, unable to eat certain consistencies, beach/water/swimming, Janus being a disaster gay, ASL, selective mutism.

Word count: 6k

Comments: Like always, I don’t intend for these to be so long. Holy cow.

Janus is written based mostly on my experiences as someone with autism, and how it’s affected my childhood/relationships/daily life. No one’s experience is the same.

Janus was always alone. Alone, not lonely. 

Most of the time, that is. 

His whole childhood was an endless cycle of make a friend, weird them out, be alone. Find another friend, weird them out, be alone. And sometimes it hurt, yeah, but he got used to it. At home, he spent the entire day in his room, assembling structures out of legos before tearing them down and starting over. Sometimes he’d build something really cool, and that would stay up for a long time. He didn’t have any siblings, and his parents didn’t give a whoop as long as the floor was generally clear, so no one ever bothered the space ships or towers or just really long lines that stretched from one wall to the other. He liked those. 

Things changed when he got to middle school. Life started getting real, people became more than just recess friends, and that unsettled him. He made a couple close friends, friends that he really opened up to only for them to leave him when he became too much. He just couldn’t help it though; he couldn’t help the way he bounced when he got so excited he couldn’t breathe, or how he couldn’t use words when he got overwhelmed by the touch and the noise, or how he couldn’t stop talking about his favorite shows or books. He was labeled as childish. It was like a label had been stuck to his chest that read “avoid at all costs”, and people did. 

So he relearned how to be alone. He put a lava lamp next to his bed for when he needed something constant to look at, he got a collection of chewy necklaces and stim toys that never left his room. After a lot of research, he convinced his parents to buy him a weighted blanket for when every touch was too light, too agonizingly light, and he needed something firm to ground him. At school, or really around anyone, he learned to control his more obvious stimming and touch sensitivity by staying in oversized sweaters and jeans. He taught himself basic sign language for when he couldn’t talk, even though he knew his parents wouldn’t understand him. They took forever to learn basic signs, for ‘water’ or ‘quiet’ or ‘no’, and both eventually got frustrated and gave up. As if their frustration was anything compared to his. 

It was going great, not perfect but better than before, until he graduated high school. Suddenly he realized he was about to move halfway across the country, to a new environment with new triggers and new people who didn’t understand that he wasn’t frowning because he was pissed, but because smiling when you didn’t understand the reasoning was exhausting. Why do people smile and greet you when they enter the room? Why couldn’t that be more of an… understood thing? I’m here, you’re here now, we both know that, so why bring so much attention to it? For once his parents were kind enough to help him out, taking him to the campus during the summer to get acquainted with the surroundings and learn the map by heart. He talked to the admission’s counselor, explaining his disability and why that meant he couldn’t be on the side of campus near the highway, because the constant noise and common sirens would make him explode. They were eventually able to move him to one of the other buildings, one with apartments instead of dorms, even though that was generally only for third and fourth years. It took a load off his shoulders; less noise, less people. The one thing he couldn’t do was meet his roommates before the year started. 

The school got them into contact, and since he was the last to be assigned to the six person pod, they added him into their pre-established group chat. The other five already had nicknames, ranging from ‘Dad’ to ‘Rat Bastard’, and he immediately felt like an outsider. Not like that was new to him, though. Except, he didn’t stay like that. When one of the group, ‘Nerdy Mcnerd’ on the chat (he’d long forgotten their actual names), asked him what he liked and he immediately sent a list of special interests and hyperfixations, the top being snakes, it was like a door had been opened. Nerdy Mcnerd was a fan of space as well, and the two stayed up until all hours of night on their own chat discussing space and their place in the universe. Rat Bastard had an affinity for what people would categorize as “creepy animals”; octopi and squid, spiders, star-nosed moles, and most importantly, snakes. Their conversations mostly involved dopey pictures of snakes and unintelligible key smashes and emojis. Emo Disaster shared his love of darker themed TV shows, and they started a couple new ones at the same time, constantly updating each other with theories. When he mentioned his major was psychology, Dad was immediately overjoyed to be sharing the major with someone, and offered to help him study for the harder classes. He didn’t hit it off quite so well with Princey, who was put off by Janus’ so called “moodiness” and didn’t trust him. 

When they finally met, it was supposed to be great. Janus knew the environment, somewhat knew his roommates, and was surprisingly excited for the new year. His joy was suddenly vanquished, however, as meeting these people face to face took a turn for the worse. Dad, Patton, immediately tried to go for the hug when he walked into the apartment for the first time, and was slightly taken aback when Janus reared back so hard he hit his head on the wall. The glee disappeared and he apologized profusely, and that’s when Nerdy Mcnerd, Logan walked in, explaining that Patton was very physical. They were over it rather quickly, but Janus shuddered as soon as the other two turned to each other. They had already claimed one of the three rooms for themselves, so Janus chose the one furthest into the apartment. He dropped his suitcases next to one of the two beds with a deep sigh. The thought of a hug… no. It unsettled him greatly, made his skin crawl. Maybe one day, but not now. 

Emo Disaster and Princey, Virgil and Roman, arrived later in the day, hand in hand, bickering animatedly when they walked into the apartment. They were greeted with a huge hug from Patton and a side hug from Logan, and that’s when Janus recalled that they had all been roommates the year prior and again, felt a small tinge of pain. He was still the odd one out. Virgil gave a two finger salute to where Janus was sitting curled up on one of the bar stools, knees pulled to his chest and for the first time, Janus didn’t feel compelled to give a forced smile in greeting. It was a relief. The small nod was all that was needed. Roman however, was a different story. When they happened to make eye contact for the first time, the taller man still standing in the doorway, Janus flinched. Hard. The man’s eyes burned through him, as if scouring through his brain, eyes so full of passion that Janus had to look away. Eye contact was only an issue for him sometimes, but with Roman, it physically hurt. Which only made the theatre major more suspicious of him. As he passed him on the way to get a glass of water, the taller man blurted out, “You’re a first year, why are you in a third year building?”, earning him a gentle smack from Virgil. He answered with a lame shrug and rushed back to his room, conceding to just go to sleep, regretting leaving his drink on the counter. 

No one besides Janus was surprised when the door burst open at three am and a loud voice screamed, “I’M BACK, FUCKERS!” He was frozen in place, woken with such an adrenaline rush that he couldn’t move. Outside, the other four exited their rooms with varying levels of annoyance and delight, greeting the final member of the group. Remus, as Janus heard them proclaim, was his roommate, the only two dwellers not in a relationship. The gremlin burst into the room, a deranged smile on his face, and Janus wanted to cry. Why did he have to be stuck in a room with the loud one? But Remus saw the mismatched eyes poking out from under the blanket and with no hesitation, sunk to the floor next to the bed, still smiling but a million decimals softer. 

“Hey, Snakey. Sorry to scare ya. I’m Remus, but you can still call me Rat Bastard if you want. Call me whatever, I don’t really get offended. You go back to sleep, I’m gonna get settled in. We can talk in the morning.”

Janus wasn’t planning to fall asleep, not with this new person in his room, but Remus was shockingly silent as he unloaded his things (he packed a bunch of garbage bags, not even a suitcase or box), and he couldn’t help the way his eyes slipped shut. 

First semester came to a close, and he was equally delighted and horrified that everyone was staying on campus for break. It had become harder and harder for him to avoid movie nights, or family dinners (as Patton called them), or days they all went into town together. In the beginning, he put it off to being tired. Then, studying for exams. Now with school halted for nearly a month, he was out of excuses. It was getting to the point where he could feel the frustration from his roommates, and he wanted to admit how much he wanted to spend time with them, until his drawer full of secret stim toys and chewy necklaces called him back. At times, he let himself spend time with them. Baked something with Patton, talked about the stars with Logan, sat with Virgil as they studied, and it was good. He never was able to escape Roman’s cynical glares that made him absolutely shudder, but he got on much better with his twin. 

Remus never minded if Janus only greeted him with a raised eyebrow, and he was okay to have more one sided conversations while Janus drew, or after a few weeks, stared unapologetically. Because god, there was so much about Remus that Janus couldn’t help but watch, even if a normal person would get uncomfortable by his wide and unblinking eyes. Luckily, Remus was no ordinary person. But the younger still kept the drawer to himself, only allowing himself to nom on the plastic or squeeze the orbeez filled squishy snake with intense fascination when he was alone. So every time he was with the others and felt the need to stim or infodump or was about to have a stress induced meltdown, he would excuse himself and leave without so much of a goodbye. He couldn’t, not in front of them. Every time he left, he could hear Roman’s quiet remarks about him that stung more than he wanted to admit. 

He’d had so many people leave, people he allowed himself to get close to, only for them to see the side of himself he tried to hide. In his heart, he knew that part of him wasn’t bad. It was just him. Other people didn’t understand that, though. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that no one would judge him, or laugh at him because they weren’t like that, he was scared. The effort was wearing him thin, and it came to the point where he realized he had to tell them. He had to, or he would burst, and that would be way worse.

It was just three little words: I. Am. Autistic. And he’d explain everything, tell them about his stims and limits and how he needed space sometimes and hugs others, and spill everything about himself, and they’d accept him. They’d have to, right? Only, the night he was planning to blurt out the truth, something stopped him. 

They were eating dinner, one of the only ones he’d attended in a while. Patton kept glancing at him from across the table as he picked half heartedly at his lasagna, distracted from the lively conversation between the twins and Virgil. The whole thing was speckled with bite sized pieces of mushrooms and zucchini, two of the foods that he couldn’t eat to save his life. The texture made him want to recoil into himself and scream and yank at his hair, and he’d learned early in life that that wasn’t a normal response to food. He wanted to explain to Patton that it wasn’t the meal itself he was avoiding, that it wasn’t Patton’s cooking that he didn’t like, it was just the texture of those two things. 

Well, maybe that was a good gateway into his big announcement, if you could even call it that. It felt almost as scary as his coming out to his parents had been. If they didn’t take this well, he might be exiled from the group. If they tried to put up with them, they’d get irritated so quickly and slowly freeze him out. He really didn’t want that. It needed to happen though, he realized. How much worse would it be if one of them walked in on him having a meltdown, holding a pillow over his mouth to block his screams, biting almost animalistically on a necklace? How unsettled would they be if they saw him hitting his blanket pile out of repulsion of the feeling of his textbook pages? Better to warn them ahead of time. It was only luck that had gotten him this far.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Logan hit the table with the heel of his hand and let out an almost guttural scream before storming into his and Patton’s room, slamming the door behind him. Janus nearly fell backwards off his chair, matching Virgil’s surprised expression. Roman went silent, wincing slightly.

“What…” It was the first word he’d said the entire meal. Patton whipped his head towards him as if he’d forgotten he was there, a sudden sympathetic look on his face. He gave a weak smile.

“Sorry about that, kiddo. Logan has autism, sometimes he can’t handle the stimulus around him. Or maybe he just had a rougher day than I thought. I’ll check on him after dinner, give him some alone time.”

Logan has autism.

Logan has autism. 

Oh my god.

It was like everything clicked into place. His passionate talk about topics he was interested in that could rival Janus’ (if he would ever let himself infodump like he wanted). His mannerisms, his occasional emotional outbursts, his rigorous unbreakable schedule, it all made sense. For a brief second, Janus was elated. Someone like him, someone who understood! And if they accepted Logan, maybe they would be able to understand him, even if they presented different areas of the spectrum. 

But… how would that look? Janus had hidden away his neurodivergent traits for so long, repressed them until he felt like he would literally explode… what if they thought he was faking it? It’s not like they knew him well, not with the amount of time he avoided being around them. They might think he was lying to get attention, didn’t want to be left out. Wanted to be special.

Patton seemed to be waiting for a response, he noted. He gave a curt nod, hoping it displayed that he was unbothered by Logan’s disability, before giving a stupid excuse about some reading to finish over break and darting back to his room. Remus joined him later, saying nothing about the fact that Janus was huddled under his weighted blanket, no book in sight. He sat down in front of the bed, a common habit of his now, and began to quietly talk about some new dark fantasy story he was designing, his lilting voice soothing Janus to sleep.

Time passed, winter came and went, and the end of second semester was drawing near. Janus was still careful with the way he presented to the others. They had picked up that he didn’t like physical contact, and though they never said a word about it, Patton’s lasagna recipe shifted, kept changing, until it no longer included mushrooms and zucchini. Janus refused to believe it was for his sake, though. He tried to join them for a couple movie nights, but the constant fear of stimming made his anxiety spike, therefore finding the need to stim more compelling, until he had to leave. It was getting harder, however, now that it was that pleasant in-between time where he understood how his new profs worked but it wasn’t exam season yet. His excuses were dwindling. Like always, Roman made his stupid quips that hurt him more than was probably intended, and he’d finally had enough. 

Maybe that’s why he was staring out at the open lake in front of him, hands playing absentmindedly with the hem of his shirt as Patton and Remus squealed, sprinting into the water without a second thought. One of their shirts had landed on Janus’ sandaled foot, and he quickly kicked it off as the light touch began to irritate him. Logan stood to his side, watching his boyfriend with an almost imperceivable smile. 

“You guys could have helped carry stuff if you were just going to stand there!” Roman’s indignant voice carried over the lawn, muffled slightly by the pile of towels he was carrying. Virgil snorted, whether in agreement or at Princey’s expense, Janus didn’t know. Either way, he dumped his handful of lawn chairs unceremoniously onto the lawn at their feet. 

“You two set these up then. I’m hot, I’m going swimming.”

“Damn right, you are,” Roman grinned. Virgil raised an eyebrow.

“Damn right I’m hot, or I’m going swimming?”

“Yes.” He didn’t give any of them a second to retort, scooping up a shrieking Virgil before sprinting them both into the water. 

“They didn’t even take their shirts off,” Logan commented, picking up a chair from the pile and unfolding it. Janus quickly joined in, helping him set the four chairs into a line and placing the towels down in front of them. “Did you want to go swimming?”

Admittedly, Janus hadn’t actually gone swimming, much less to the beach, since he was a kid. He was lucky to have even found a swimsuit amongst his other barely worn clothing; how it had snuck into his suitcase, he didn’t know. The water looked inviting and it was hot, but right now he was exhausted from the long ride over in Remus’ truck, having to refrain from plugging his ear when it got too loud or maintain his breathing carefully when a leg touched his.

“Maybe in a bit. I’m kind of tired.”

Logan turned to look at him, dare he say scrutinizingly? He washed the expression away quickly, asking, “Would you like me to stay with you?”

“No, it’s okay,” Janus mumbled, “You go have fun. I’ll be fine, I like the quiet.” As if to punctuate his point, a child screamed from the playground, making them both flinch.

“Are you positive?”

“Yes. Go enjoy yourself, Logan.”

He nodded curtly, pulling his shirt over his head in one fluent motion and walking towards the waves professionally, as if he were walking towards a lecture. Patton cheered from the water.

Janus didn’t concern himself with the time as it passed, instead letting his mind wander while he focused on a line of ants that were crawling up a tree next to him. It wasn’t until a fast approaching form caught his attention did he tear his eyes away, hearing him give a shout of “Be right back!”.

Remus plopped himself onto the towel next to him, still panting from the run, but grinning from ear to ear. As he ripped open a water bottle and drank greedily, Janus couldn’t help but stare. Water glistened on his skin like jewels in the afternoon sun, plastering his hair down over his jaw and eyes. His eyelashes were barely fluttering against his cheekbones as he guzzled nearly half of the bottle, his adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow. The jut of his shoulder, almost touching his throat, taking his weight as he leaned back on his arm… the whole thing was fascinating. People interested Janus as a whole; the way they functioned, how they seamlessly picked up on little cues from others that Janus was still in the process of figuring out, even down to intricate biology of cells was incredibly captivating. But Remus was so much more than that. His voice when he spoke him to sleep, never mentioning it the next day, the way his dark eyes glimmered with hope when Janus agreed to eat with them, the twitch of his moustache as he covered a laugh at Patton’s corny jokes. 

He was art, plain and simple. 

Janus didn’t know if what he felt was romantic attraction. It sure felt like it, except it had never felt quite like this before. It wasn’t that he was asexual or anything, he was actually decently far from it. It was just how uncomfortable most physical contact made him that gave him the idea he might never have a partner in the way that he wanted. He wanted to hold hands, to cuddle, to kiss… but at the same time, he didn’t. That is, he didn’t know how he’d handle it. Sure, he’d had crushes in the past, cute boys from his classes or celebrities in the shows he hyperfixated on, and still the feeling of uncertainty had stayed. With Remus, something was different though. Never before had a crush ever felt so breath stealing, chest clenching, awe inspiring-

“Like what you see?” 

Janus flinched, realizing Remus had finished drinking and was beaming at him with that stupid gorgeous gleam in his eyes. He looked at his lap immediately, feeling his face heat up. 

“Sorry.” 

“Not a problem,” Remus smirked, having the audacity to wink at him before standing up. “I’m going back in. Coming?” He reached out his hand, hopeful. Janus took a breath, acknowledging that this was his first time initiating contact since he’d arrived, and grabbed Remus’ hand. The surprise on the other’s face was almost enough to make him laugh. He pulled the younger to his feet, keeping a firm hold in Janus’ hand. And… that was okay. 

Until it wasn’t. 

The second his feet touched the sand, it was like alarm bells exploded behind his eyes. He couldn’t describe it, but it felt wrong. It gave in too much, light sprinkles of sand covered the top of his feet and instantly every nerve was on high alert. He ripped his hand from Remus’, stumbling backwards onto the grass again. The elder spun to him with concern.

“Snakey? What happened?”

“I- hmm, no. I can’t. Nope. No no no. Wrong. It… hmmmm. Can’t.” The last word dragged out as his brain seemed to disconnect from his mouth. His mind didn’t work, so focused on how every blade of grass was swiping along his soles too softly, too gentle, too much. His hands had curled into fists and he was fighting against everything inside him to scream bloody murder, because oh god the wind was brushing the hair onto the back of his neck and it tickled and make it stop make it stop!

Janus could vaguely hear someone shout, and the loudness floored him. Get away, get away, it’s too much it’s too much. The feeling of the grass was gone, and he was sitting on his beach towel, but the wind was still brushing his hair too much, so he grabbed at it uselessly, begging it to stop, stop, stop. 

“What’s happening?” Roman.

“Is he okay?” Patton.

“Does he look okay?” Virgil.

“Janus, breathe. You’re safe.” Logan.

 Yeah, he knew that. He knew, objectively, that the wind isn’t out to get him and grass doesn’t hurt and sand isn’t supposed to fry your nerves. That didn’t change the fact that it did for him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it connected that they were seeing him have a meltdown, finally. But he couldn’t focus on that, not when someone was touching his arm why are they touching my arm LET GO! 

He screamed now, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. His breaths were ragged and gaspy, hands ripping at his hair to try and stop the fluttering strands. Then there was a new sound, an engine, a boat, and with it came the deep bass of some terrible music and there were people shouting and his head was hurting, why was it hurting so bad?! New hands grabbed his wrists and he writhed, pulling back from the grip that was pulling his fists away from where they’d been hitting his skull, over and over, trying to just get his stupid brain to work. Come back to the present, ground yourself, do SOMETHING!

And then something was in his hands. 

His eyes peeled open (when had he shut them?) and he saw the dark blue stress ball, almost crushed between his fingers. The hands were gone from his wrist, and he took a deep breath, relaxing his hand and watching the slime filled toy slowly return to its natural shape. It was just like one from his drawer, the first stim toy he’d ever gotten. Familiarity. He kneaded it under his fingers, enjoying the comforting texture, the color soothing to his sensitive eyes. Bit by bit he felt himself relax, still holding the toy inches from his face between stiff hands, letting his legs unfurl. Without thinking, he raised a shaking hand to his chin and did the sign for ‘water’, and immediately regretted it. It was just such a habit around his parents, the only other people who had seen him break down to this extent, how could he be so-

He flinched as a water bottle was pressed into his raised hand, the lid already taken off. The water was so good, settling his senses and grounding him, like he’d been in hyperfocus before and it was dulled now. He gave the stress ball another squeeze, captivated by the way the slime moved, not even flinching as someone snapped in front of him.

Looking up for the first time, his first instinct was to crawl into a hole and die. Logan was sitting in front of him, slowly putting the cap back on his water bottle before handing it back to Patton, who was standing just behind him. Roman and Virgil had begun packing the chairs and bags agonizingly slowly and quietly. Impressive; they were almost done and he hadn’t noticed until now. He turned to his left and his heart completely shattered. Remus was sitting statue still, a few feet away, with a look of pure fear in his eyes. He sat on the edge of his knees, like he wanted to pounce forward and hug him but was holding himself back. He appreciated that. 

Logan snapped again and Janus turned back.

‘Better?’ He signed slowly. 

‘You know sign?’ Janus responded weakly, confused. 

‘Patton too. I go nonverbal as well. Are you okay?’

The younger nodded, returning his hands to the stim toy on his lap. ‘Yours?’

‘Yes.’

“Is he okay?” Remus whispered suddenly, drawing their attention. He looked so scared, like anything could break Janus and he was scared he would cause it. Oh. Did he think he caused this?

‘Not his fault.’

Logan looked between the two, a look of confusion settling in his face. “What?”

‘Not. His. Fault.’ He signed sharply, a frustrated hum emitting from the back of his throat. ‘Not his fault!’

“Remus, he’s saying it’s not your fault. What does that mean?”

“I- I took his hand, and then this happened…” Remus started, leaning back onto his feet ashamedly, “If that wasn’t the cause, what was?” 

‘Sand.’

Logan’s eyes filled with understanding, and he responded, ‘Sand?’ as if to double check that he got the right sign. Janus nodded again, slightly thankful for the mute state he was in. He wouldn’t be able to explain this as well as Logan would. 

“If I’m understanding right, then my first assumptions were correct. Janus, did you just experience a sensory overload?”

Janus could only nod, meeting his eyes shakily. This is the moment. Now is his segway. If Logan wasn’t already suspicious, he surely was now. And he’d rather not have to explain, or come up with some half assed excuse if he was confronted later on why sinking his foot into sand had made him break. 

 ‘I’m autistic.’ He fingerspelled it, not knowing what the sign was, or if there even was one. There was a beat of silence, the twins and Virgil exchanging puzzled looks, and Janus couldn’t even bear to look at the two people who would have understood. All his fears came rushing back. Would they think he was lying, or seeking attention, or or or-

“Oh, sweetie,” Patton crooned, sitting cross legged beside Logan, “We thought maybe… well, the possibility came up in conversation before. Lo was the one who brought it up.”

“Yes. Though our experiences differ, you seemed to exhibit symptoms that are common to the ASD spectrum. I thought it feasible, but did not wish to offend or frighten you by mentioning it.”

“We thought that if you were autistic, it would be yours to tell us,” Patton smiled softly. 

“Wait,” Remus interrupted, “Janus, you have autism?”

Janus’ nervous glance up must have been enough to clue the rest of the group in, because Roman sighed and ducked his head into Virgil’s shoulder while Logan messily signed something which roughly translated to ‘how dense can someone be’. Jan couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not, but he cracked a smile anyways.

“Shit. Dude, I’m so sorry,” Roman murmured into Virgil’s shirt, “All the times I made fun of you for not joining us or anything, that was way out of line. I truly apologize.”

The youngest gave him the worldwide gesture for ‘it’s okay’; not exactly ASL, but it got his point across. Everything was packed up now, and Janus realized the implications.

‘Home?’ He asked Logan, eyebrows scrunched together.

‘Yes. You need to rest.’ He was right, he was exhausted. Getting to his feet along with Patton and Logan, he reached down to grab his towel, only for it to be promptly swooped up by Roman.

“I… I got it. Don’t worry about it. Okay?”

As soon as Roman turned his back, Janus couldn’t help his heavy sigh. This was another reason he had refrained from telling anyone. He didn’t want to be seen as a burden, or worse, a child. He didn’t need help with menial tasks like grabbing a towel. Virgil and him lifted all the belongings again, with less complaining this time, and began the short trek to the truck.

‘He’s not babying you,’ Logan signed, as if reading his mind, ‘He’s just guilty. If you want my advice, get as much out of it as you can.’

“Logan!” Patton chastised, failing miserably at hiding a smirk.                            

“Guys?” Remus’ uncharacteristically timid voice prompted them to turn back, “Could I talk to Janus for a sec?”

“You understand he is unable to speak at the moment, correct?” Logan raised an eyebrow, probably coming off more harsh than he meant to. 

“I know. Just… please?”

The other two shared a knowing look that Janus didn’t understand, before Logan turned to Janus. “Is that okay?”

The youngest nodded, watching over his shoulder as the lovebirds joined hands, leaving him and Remus alone. When he met his eyes again, he was standing much closer, eyes searching nervously.

“Maybe this will actually be easier since you can’t talk,” he laughed, before his face fell dramatically, “Fuck, that’s not what I meant. I’m such an idiot, I didn’t mean-”

Janus held up a hand quickly, as if to say ‘it’s fine, settle down’, holding back a snicker. He’d understand if someone was upset by the comment, but he’d learn to take Remus’ jokes lightly. He never meant to actually offend, sometimes he just… blurted without intending to. He rolled his finger in a ‘keep going’ motion.

“Shit. Okay,” He’d never seen Remus blush, or stumble over his words before. Not like this, at least, “Now, don’t feel obligated to say you feel the same or anything, okay? This is just, my feelings, and mine alone,” A deep breath, “I like you, Snakey. I like you a lot. More than… more than a friend.”

Oh.

Oh.

Janus was ninety percent sure he died right then and there. But Remus kept going, tripping over his words in a way that was so unlike him, and yet so perfect.

“I have for a while. I never said anything because I thought, maybe you disliked me? After today though, I think… well, maybe I was misinterpreting those signals. Like I misinterpreted today. That you didn’t want to be around me, no matter how hard I tried.”

Okay, Janus took it back. He wanted to be able to talk now, but his voice came out as another low hum, and he slapped his hand over his mouth, embarrassed. Remus pressed on, unfazed. 

“Snakey, I swear to you, that you having autism doesn’t change those feelings at all. It’s not a bad thing, or a flaw, it’s just you. And everything about you is amazing, and perfect, and this is just another thing I get to learn about you. Any fears you had around telling us, telling me, you don’t need to have them.”

He’d never felt this kind of feeling before. In that second, he knew for a fact that this wasn’t a crush that he had on Remus. That wasn’t possible, because a crush had never made him want to break his social barriers like this. A crush had never made him want to make an exception, to stand on his tip toes and kiss him, even if the thought of a new touch usually caused goosebumps to rise on his arms. Because he felt so safe, so blissfully numb, so comfortable with Remus, that he’d be willing to give it a try.

This wasn’t a crush. This was-

“I love you,” Remus whispered, his statement accompanied by a large shaky breath.

He couldn’t say it back, not right now. Later, he would. For sure. Maybe a hundred times. So he did what he’d never thought possible and took that step forward, breaking his bubble that he’d always thought to be unbreakable. 

It’s okay. You’re okay. This is okay. 

For once, he actually believed it.

Janus reached a hand up, slowly, and rested it on Remus’ face. It wasn’t light, he couldn’t do half touches. It was solid, warm, real. Not a tickling touch that made him twitch, or a brush by that stole the very breath from his lungs. The positive response affirmed his will power, and he leaned up onto his tip toes. Remus looked absolutely stunned, but he didn’t pull away, he couldn’t if he tried. His breath caught in his throat as the elder glanced down, an unmistakable look to his lips.

Had Remus always had those green flecks in his eyes?

And he kissed him. Janus surged forward, pressing their lips together harsher than he’s intended, pulling a small gasp out of Remus. There was a whoop from the vague direction of where they’d parked, followed by a loud smack, and Janus couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips.

Remus’ hands were clasped at his chest, unmoving, probably afraid that if he touched Janus wrong, this would all be over. He’d have to explain half touches later. For now, he took one of his hands in his free one and guided it around, pushing it into the small of his back until Remus got the message to keep that pressure. He let out a small sigh through his nose, an action that sent a new round of butterflies exploding in the younger’s stomach.

This is okay. 

This is all going to be okay.

[kitkat1003]

On the Issue of Mortality

AO3 Link

Chapter 2: Whether weather whether weather, whether you're invulnerable or not!

“Hey, I’ll have you know that I can control my powers now!  The only downside is I’m not invincible anymore, sooo I could die.”

“WHAT?!”

Same, Pigsy.  Same.

Monkey King doesn’t do much, when it comes to his successor.  Not at first.

Sure, he watches the Kid from time to time, just to see what’s going on.  Which isn’t creepy, not at all, it’s just...well, how else is he supposed to check on Kid?  Besides, he’s not watching him 24/7, and he can tell when the Kid is in trouble now, from the flare of power he feels whenever Kid is using the staff or some other ability.

Sometimes, though, there’s no fight.  Like when he lets Mei shoot rockets at him.  Comical as it is, he can tell Kid is letting all this power get to his head.

But hey, why not?  Kid beat DBK, let him have a little fun.  Monkey King isn’t going to knock him for that, not when he did much worse back in his day.  Way worse

Yeah...he really had an arc, didn’t he.

He lets it go until he feels a massive flare, one that definitely isn’t controlled.  He summons nimbus and heads off, and finds Kid in a crater of his own making, looking lost.

Then, Kid tries to shove the whole “stopping the bad guys” thing onto him, and, like, hello??  He gave Kid the staff for a reason.  He’s retired.  Totally, definitely retired.

“Every time I try to do something I just gunk everything up!  Something’s wrong...” There’s something deeper to those words, more vulnerable and hurt than Monkey King is ready for.  He isn’t Kid’s dad.

Wait, does Kid even have a dad?  Is that something he needs to be concerned about?  Whatever, the Kid’s at least eighteen, he’s an adult.  Adults don’t need dads.  Monkey King didn’t need one, just look at him.  He’s the great Sun Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, the Monkey King.  Who needs parents?

Monkey King gets up, hops on the Kid’s shoulders to get a closer look, as well as groom the kid a little, because his hair is a mess.  Humans have all these advancements with soap and showers and they can’t even get their hair clean.  Clearly, monkeys have it figured out.  Nothing gets someone cleaner than a good grooming.  And hey, he finds a little snack in there!

He uses his golden vision of his for a second as he grooms Kid, and, yup.

There’s the problem.

Making the Kid freak out a little is all for fun, but the root of the issue is something Monkey King didn’t want to have to deal with.  A general lack of martial arts skill is easy, you just teach them the basics and work from there.  What’s wrong with Kid is going to take a lot more work, emotional work, and Monkey King didn’t think he’d have to expend that sort of energy for this.

 The issue, of course, is simple.  Lack of self confidence.

“I have self confidence!”

“Nope.  You’re just loud.” And that’s the thing, Monkey King understands.  He was always loud but he was confident not long after.  Then again, he got his powers gradually.  Poor Kid has them all at once, probably hard to find the confidence for all of that out of nowhere.

Jeez.  Why’d he have to pick the Kid with baggage?

Fake it till you make it is what Kid says, and he wants to scream, because that isn’t how it works.  If it was, then everyone could use the staff.  It takes a specific breed of something that Monkey King knows the Kid has, but isn’t letting out.  Self confidence, at its core, comes from a strong foundation.  If Kid doesn’t have that, then they have to start from scratch, which takes time.

And he’s not that annoyed, he’s willing to wait, but the Kid isn’t.  And, sure, yeah, there’s the thing with Red Son (and holy shit, Red Son?  That brat is still around?  He’s not using the fire, but still) and the Kid’s friends, but they would be fine!  Probably.  He doesn’t think they’re that incompetent.

But the Kid isn’t satisfied with that so he insists, and Monkey King pulls out a card he doesn’t want to play.

Control over your powers for the price of invincibility.  Seriously, if it were him, he’d never. He likes living, thanks.  But then again, this Kid is apparently loyal to a fault, because not two seconds after he gives out the idea the Kid is taking it.

And he’s confident, when he seals away the Kid’s powers, but inside he’s terrified.

Suddenly, this Kid can get hurt, can die.  This Kid could get hit by a car or smashed by a demon or fall to a host of any other preventable death scenarios because he’s vulnerable now.

And the thing is, Kid doesn’t seem to care?  As if the idea of facing unknown horrors with the added bonus of being able to die is just a regular Tuesday, nothing to worry about.  Which, that is so, so weird, and startling and Monkey King is a little proud that he picked a student so selfless, so willing to face mortality for the sake of keeping others safe.

But is it even selflessness or a lack of self worth?  A lack of self confidence is bad enough, but he doesn’t even know if Kid thinks he’s got value and that’s far more concerning to him than it ought to be.

He’s also got a lot of anxiety now, because he has to watch this Kid, to make sure he doesn’t die randomly.  Great.

He flies the Kid to the weather tower, because time is of the essence, and he watches.  Every wrong step the Kid takes, he tenses.  Every slip up, as Bull Clones go flying and chase after him, as Red Son rushes him—Sun Wukong clenches his fists and physically stops himself from jumping in.  He’s retired.  Kid’s gotta learn to clean up his own messes.

Kid is actually pretty good at using the staff to block blows.  Offensive fighting with it is slow going, though, and Monkey King files that away for plans of future training.  He watches the Kid run towards the control panel and the Bull Clones close in, and, for a split second, he feels a little flare.

Golden vision.  It flickers in the Kid’s eyes and he doesn’t know what the Kid sees, but Monkey King is sure it’s enough.

Or maybe not, as the Kid gets dog piled on by Bull Clones, Red Son jumping on top of the pile.

Monkey King holds his breath, wondering if he should step in—because he knows Kid needs to learn but what’s the point of learning if you die in the process—and then.

Then.

He lets out a sigh of relief and heads out as lightning strikes the staff, watching the Kid duck behind the control panel to avoid the shock, the explosion.  Smart.  He always used brute force.  Good to know Kid has a head on those shoulders that have more use than just a battering ram.

He vanishes into the horizon as the skies clear, back to Flowering Fruit Mountain.  Once there, he takes a deep breath, eats a few peaches.  Lays back on his cloud and grooms a monkey or two to try and destress.

It doesn’t work.  Dammit.  His successor is mortal and vulnerable.  This is going to add, like, 5 times the effort he thought he would have to put into training this kid.  He has to be careful.  He has to be cautious.  He can’t just throw things at the kid and expect him to be fine.

Okay.  This is fine.  Is it?  Maybe.  Probably not.

Because if the Kid is going to really take up his mantle, he’s going to have to deal with the enemies that come with it.  Which means dangerous demons, creatures Monkey King doesn’t dare name, all sorts of dangers that can easily kill someone, if that someone isn’t invulnerable.

He has to give the Kid space, can’t smother him, doesn’t want to.  But how is he supposed to breathe easy when his successor can die any time?

Clones, maybe?  But those always come back to mess with him if he keeps them around for too long.  And he’s an easily bored guy, his clones need action.  He doesn’t think babysitting will make them happy.

Ugh, he needs a nap.  If he can even find it in himself to sleep, with all these thoughts and questions.

He’ll figure it out.  He always does, in the end.

[happypeachwhispers]

Fries Meet Guys: ALEX HØGH ANDERSEN - I DIDN'T THINK I WAS A PERSON WHO SHOULD TALK ABOUT ANXIETY - Part Two: Performing, Friendship

Thank you for your patience, here’s the long awaited part two! Are you crying, cause I’m crying. He’s such a profound human being.

Taglist: @ivarsrideordie @tgrrose @shannygoatgruff @youbloodymadgenius @boltslightning @alexein13 @ivaraddict @jupiter-sagittarius

PART ONE HERE

PARTS THREE TO EIGHT

I was all over the place, like I always am, after all, and I enjoyed that experience a lot, it filled something inside of me. I always knew I needed something else. I sure was a pain in the ass for many people, but then I met a whole group of people just like me and I learned what acceptance means. What was percieved as “different” in my daily life became normal and I felt at home. I was certainly the most determined one, the first time at the Eventyrteatret I was the only one of 50 kids in the room who didn't live in Copenhagen and had to take a long trip to get there. It was so crazy and chaotic. It was so strange that they sang and danced, and then they all danced in sync into a song they prepared for the annual performance. Well, back then I thought it was weird, but a month went by and it became completely normal for me. “I'm one of you”.

It was a new experience. You suddenly started singing and dancing in Copenhagen, how was that recieved back at home in Skælskør?

I think it took some time for the people I used to hang out with to understand that. I have to say I may remember feeling a little bit out of place. But it also has to be said, I've always been pretty comfortable in school, honestly. I have never been the one who has been so unpopular or I have struggled extra hard, I think. So it was, maybe, a little bit difficult. It might have been hard for me not to be accepted anymore because I was accepted before. Their point of view wasn't the big challenge for me, I actually think it was more an internal challenge with myself, I could feel there was a completely different world. I didn't know anything about it but I just made room for myself and I discovered there was a part of me I had no idea was there in the first place.

Was it difficult to maintain frendships in school when you were busy driving back and forth between Skælskør and Copenhagen?

It has actually not been that bad in primary school. But I have to say in high school, yes, it was. I have some friends from high school I talk to every now and then, but no, I didn't maintain any close friendship. I basically lived a double life throughout high school, where I was either at the Eventyrteatret or I was shooting the advent calendar in Aalborg. So I was pretty much not there, my social life was in Copenhagen. I had a girlfriend there too. I just didn't feel the need for a social life in Skælskør. And the free time I had was pretty much all absorbed by my profession.

I think we can all relate.

Yes but usually Danish kids in high school when they have free time they wanna party, that's what happens when you're part of a group of friends in high school.

We have had some other guests in the studio who have had very different experiences. How is your situation friendship-wise in school at this point?

I had some friends in high school, in my class and in other classes, absolutely. But I spent almost all the time with the group of friends in Copenhagen, so I was not influenced by my high school mates and their choices that much. I've felt a lil bit different because I've had a double life. I mostly had different group of friends in relation to the activity I shared with them. The group of friends I acted with, the group I went to college with and then a small group I talk to from time to time mostly individually.

Do you have both female and male friends?

Yes, I do. I would say I have more male friends tho. It's a mixed bunch of ordinary people, both women and men.

Is the way you communicate with your female friends different from the way you communicate with your male friends?

Definitely. You have to be more of a listener, I'm pretty good at listening, I think you have to adapt and communicate in a different way based on who is in front of you. See, with men you talk a certain way, that sort of street style if you will.  It comes natural because that's the way you talk to each other since the first day you met. But when you have in front of you people who are pretty cool and you have to impress them, you just have to do this and that, and that's what it's needed. But I would like to be able to be honest, always. And it's not hard at all, I’ve been really good at surrounding myself with some really, really pleasant people. I can afford to be myself at all times and they can be one hundred percent themselves with me.

What does it mean to be your authentic self for you?

It means that one can afford to have not only a good day but also a bad one. To be able to be stupid and not have to be slaughtered for it. I can be weird and crazy and say some stupid things without having to go half an hour afterwards and hit myself in the head. These are little things that are so insanely hard to find. I'm very lucky. I can pretty much talk about everything with them, we are very very honest with each other. In January, I was in Tenerife with three of my friends, and we brought along our stories in the luggage. I was suffering from anxiety and I had a sore stomach, it lasted four months, I was finally getting better. Another friend of mine, he's extreme. The love game hits him immensely. The other one suffers from depression. He generally has a hard time figuring out what he wants and what he doesn't existentially. And then we have number four, thank God, he doesn't have the same big problems. He holds us all together. It was a great experience, I remember us four sitting around the table and talking while eating pizza with shrimps. We sat for three or four hours talking non-stop about nothing but our problems that one could imagine they are extremely taboo for other groups.

Did sharing with each other give you something on an emotional level?

Oh yes, absolutely. We support each other by sharing and it's awesome to have people you trust so much to share such personal issues with. And so I think in 2019 in today's Denmark, that's what it means to be a man. To be able to comprehend people and understand. I see instead a lot of carelessness and stereotypes.

Didn't you encounter those qualities in other men, as an adult?

No, not at all. It's not about stereotypes. We have just as many problems as everyone else and we are extremely worried about it financially and emotionally. Anxiety. Social education, existential issues. It can be anything. All my friends, all the people I have in my life, they all have problems to a greater or lesser degree. Absolutely. But that's what it means to be human. And that's what it means to be a man. It means you are making mistakes, you are imperfect. You are a fool, and you must be allowed to be a fool, and you will also stand on your own. You're going to hurt other people because you're human. But you must also be forgiven, and you must also be able to forgive. You just need care and understanding.

Were you able to find the care and understanding you need?

Alex groans – Yes and no.

Do I have to change subject?

Alex laughs – No, it's ok. I am open to recieve care. It's just that I stress a lot about my mistakes, your head plays games with you and you just have to survive.

You can't control everything you can handle, what a funny paradox. You describe yourself as a person who likes to take up a lot of space and fill a lot. And then I also sense that when it comes to emotions, for example, to take a seat and ask for help, then it's a whole different thing.

Yes, that's true. I don't know, I'm fucking complicated and I don't know how to handle it at all. I believe in nature and creativity. I have always had a lot of willpower and then I had my mother showing me the right path, then you grow up and learn to control yourself. But I have a hard time talking about it. I told you, I don't know. Yes, I am a human being who goes through a lot and thinks such extremely deep thoughts, I put all that in my creativity, in my work. That helps me. Then I have moments when I'm completely wrapped in my own thoughts, but I think, generally, I'm a relaxed person. I do my very best just not to do all that thinking and that takes a lot of effort. I won't let those thoughts get under my skin because I know all too well that it's not good for me.

END PART TWO

Ask me in messages if you wanna be tagged // Feel free to like, comment and share, thank you!

[queeniewriteshockey]

Stay The Night || Final|| Nolan Patrick + Reader

A/N: So, here it is. The very last part of this story. It’s been a long time in the making and I’m truly sorry for how long it took me to continue this story. I hope the ending lives up to expectations. I’m very pleased with the whole of this story. 

I want to thank every single person who liked, reblogged, commented, or messaged me about this story. Your words and your support have meant the world to me. 

Word Count: 4,182

--

Your body has never felt more burdensome than it does right now, sitting there held down under the weight of Nolan’s stare. Escape isn’t really an option, though you are contemplating how fast you can get out of there. The bathroom is a viable option. You know there is a window in there that you could maybe slip out of like something out of a movie. If you did that, though, people would figure out that there was an issue, and you’ve worked hard to keep that to yourself. Still, maybe.

You down the rest of your beer to give yourself time to collect your emotions, though you've had months to do this, years even, and somehow never truly learned how to do this. When you set the glass down, you affix a smile to your lips and lift yourself from the seat to greet Nolan the way you should have when he first said hi. Appearances were important when trying to pretend everything was okay. You couldn't let them see the cracks in your veneer.

He lets go of Leslie as you walk up to him, and he turns to welcome you. The hug is awkward as he wraps an arm around you and pulls you into the embrace. Your body is tense and protective, as though he’s somehow going to hurt you. It’s stupid because, of course, he won’t, but you’ve already been damaged by your own mind when it comes to him. His scent fills your nose for the smallest of seconds, and it’s like a shock goes through your system. Every single moment you’ve been through together plays in your mind’s eyes.

You’re five and playing tag in the backyard of your childhood home. You can hear his laugh.

You’re ten and holding onto him because he’s crying after he fell off his bike and scraped his knee.

You’re 14, and he’s holding you because you’re crying. He just got drafted. The tears are happy and sad at the same time. He's going to leave you.

You pull back from the hug, needing the space to breathe and get out of your head. It’s too much to think about; it hurts more than you want to admit. You’ve been in love with him for longer than you can even remember. You just want it to all go away.

“Are you okay?” Nolan asks. Of course, he recognized the internal struggle. You’re just thankful he can’t actually hear you screaming.

“Yeah,” you say, though it sounds shakier than assured. “I just… I missed you.” It comes out honest because it is, but you can’t meet his eyes when you say it. The truth is you did miss him. You missed him so much it hurt, but being around him hurt more. It was a constant sharp pain like a stitch in your side that never went away. When you were apart, that stitch dulled. It didn’t tear every time you breathed. Having him there in front of you was like slicing open a freshly stitched wound.

The smile you peep on his lips does nothing to dull the pain. If anything, you can feel the wound opening deeper. The infection you’d spent several months digging out was growing again. “Excuse me,” you say, “I need another drink.”

You excuse yourself from Nolan and Leslie and make your way to the bar. About halfway there, you beeline into the women’s restroom to see about that window. It’s warm in the bathroom, and it looks like the window is open. You could make it through if you tried. Did you want to try, though? You’d run away from him once. You'd gone across more states than you wanted to count and into another country to get away from him. What was one window between escape routes?

Climbing out the window is no easy feat, but the hardest part was landing on the ground outside. You’re lucky the sink was there to give you a boost up, but face-first through a window is never the right way to go. You weren’t nearly as smooth as actors in the movies, but you did it in one take, how many of them could say that? You get up from the pavement and dust yourself off, brushing rubble from your hands and the back of your pants.

“You know,” a voice says, making you scream, “I had a feeling you were avoiding me, but now I’m sure you are.”

You turn around and see Nolan standing there, his shoulder pressed against the outside of the building. He looks so calm while he’s looking at you with his intense blue eyes.

“Nolan,” you say, trying for the calm, 'you totally didn’t just catch me climbing out a window vibe,’ but failing.

“The thing is,” he says as he pushes off the wall and walks over to you, “I can’t figure out why. The last time I saw you, you were asleep in your car, in my carport. Did I do something?” The hurt you can see behind his eyes doesn't match the casual tone he spoke with, but you’d long ago stopped marveling at Nolan’s superpower. He could lock down his emotions so tightly that almost no one saw them unless they knew what to look for. You unfortunately, knew what to look for.  

“Nolan,” you say with a sigh, but you don’t know what else to say. How do you explain that the reason you left was that you loved him so much it hurt to see him happy? That was the epitome of selfishness, and you hated yourself for it. The hatred festered like a cancer, silently growing until it consumed you from the inside out, and you couldn’t take it any longer. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“Oh, really? Because it looks like you just used that window to duck out of a bar. A bar you were excited to go to, judging by your Instagram. So… What changed?”

“Nothing,” you say, but you know he’s caught you dead to rights, and you don’t know how to get out of this. “Why are you out here? You’re supposed to be inside with Leslie.”

“So are you,” he says, not answering your question.

You want to scream at him. Why couldn’t he just leave it alone? Why couldn’t he just forget your friendship and let you move on? Why did he have to stand there with this hurt look in his eyes? And why, gods why, did he have to catch you climbing out the bathroom window of a dive bar? What are the odds of that?

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you say in an irritated tone. You shoulder past him and keep going. You’re not going back inside; you’ve already made up your mind on that. Your evening is ruined, so you call it quits.

“Well,” he says, his voice loud enough for you to hear (which in and of itself was a feat considering who was talking), “I do. What did I do to make you hate me?”

The pleading in his voice forces you to stop in your tracks. You sign softly, eyes closing to block out the sudden rush of emotions that twisted your gut. Why couldn’t it be straightforward with him? Why was nothing ever simple with him? “I don’t hate you, Nolan,” You say honestly, “I love you.”

The moment the words are out of your mouth, terror takes over your body, controlling your actions. Your heart beats so fast you’re almost sure you’re going to pass out, or worse. Your legs feel like jelly holding you up. Fear claws at your throat, making breathing hard, and all you can think about, the only rational thought you have in your head is “go,” so you do. You run. Away from him. Away from your words. As fast as you can for as long as you can. You don’t try to explain yourself, you just run.

Running is easier when the person you’re running away from isn’t yourself, though. Nolan doesn't follow you, but you didn’t think he would. Your life isn’t a movie. He isn't going to stop you and confess his love for you. You never expected that in the first place. It was why you left after all.

Your running doesn't take you home, as you expected. Your feet have a mind of their own while you struggle internally with bitter hate and disgust. It burns its way through you like acid eating away at healed wounds and leaving necrotic tissue in its wake. When you finally let yourself stop running, it isn't because you were safe or free, it's because the air your lungs so badly need seems out of reach. You pause, hands on your thighs, and head between your knees, trying to pull in little gasps of air. Is it from running or the panic attack you are sure you are having?

It takes you a moment to catch your breath, but by that time, you’ve allowed yourself to sit for a moment and collect your thoughts. The weight of everything sits on your shoulders, and you rest your head in your hands. You can’t face him again. You can’t handle the rejection that’ll come when you see him again. Maybe coming back to Winnipeg was a bad idea. Perhaps you should have just gone somewhere else. Somewhere where running into Nolan wasn’t a possibility.

Time passes like grains of sand slipping through your fingers. You sit on the curb of the sidewalk, watching the number of cars that pass you by becoming less and less. It’s the only passage of time you have to go by. You haven’t looked at your phone since you left the bar, and you had no desire to look now. You were sure you’d have a few messages and missed calls from Leslie. Maybe something from Nolan. But maybe not. Which would be worse? You don’t want to find out.

Sitting in the growing dark with your thoughts serves no real purpose, it’s not like you can hate yourself any more than you already do. You’ve exhausted your ability to berate yourself. The only thing left now is pure exhaustion covered in a blanket of cold despair. The numbness will follow, once the weight of everything becomes too much for you to carry. You can't keep sitting on the curb, looking like a homeless waif wandering the streets.

As you pull yourself to your feet, you debate whether you want to reach into your back pocket and pull out your phone for a ride or if you're going just to walk home. You’re not exactly sure how far away you are from your apartment, which, ultimately, is the deciding factor. You swipe the phone open, ignoring any and all notifications you have in favor of pulling open the rideshare app. It’s such a simple process you barely think about it when you’re done requesting the ride and sliding the phone back into your pocket.

The wait for the ride feels like an eternity. Now that you’ve chosen to go home all you want in a hot bath, your PJs, and maybe a cute sad movie, you can cry your eyes out to while lying in bed. You’re practically dreaming about it by the time your ride pulls up, and you get in. It's like a song that you can’t get out of your mind. The idea rolls over and over, tripping over a few bumps when you get hung up on the evening events, but for the most part, it remains intact.

The drive is relaxing. For the first time since Nolan walked through the door of the bar, you feel like you can breathe and maybe not let every single thought or feeling crush you. Your driver fills the silence with useless chatter, and you meet it with your own. It was part of their job, after all. It didn’t hurt to be polite to the person driving you home, so the small talk occupies your time just as much as the thought of getting home and locking the world away.

When they pull up to your building, you thank your driver and make sure to leave them a decent tip and a five-star review in the app as you walk up the stairs to your second-floor apartment. Your nose is stuck in the phone, of course, which means you don't notice until it's too late that the stoop of your residence is being occupied by a rather large and distressed looking hockey player. He really was massive, especially when he was sprawled out on the floor, legs wide and impassable.

Your feet hit the landing just as you realize that he’s there. It’s almost automatic now to turn and go the other way, regardless of the fact that the door behind him was yours. You had a moment of hope that he hadn’t even realized you were there, but the moment you turned, you heard him move.

“Y/N, wait,” he says quickly as you head back down the stairs this time to your car. You had gone to the bar with Leslie, after all. There had been no point in taking two vehicles. A hand touches your arm, and you freeze a few steps down. You don’t have it in you to look at him, but you aren't about to fight to get free of his hold on the stairs. “I really need you to stop running away from me,” he says quietly.

It’s that statement that forces you to look at him. You fear what you’ll see when you finally do, but his face is guarded. More guarded than you’ve ever seen it. His expression isn’t one you can read, and his eyes, the windows into his mind and soul give nothing away. He's hiding from you. That thought alone makes you want to cry. That thought alone is proof enough that you've ruined everything.

“What are you doing here?” You ask. Your voice feels dry and empty; all the fire and fight has left you. You don’t even have in you to care anymore; it's already over. Maybe he’ll let you down quick and easy, and you can finally move on with your life. Nolan’s never been a vindictive or mean person. Not to you, anyway. Sure, you’ve seen him be mean on the ice or to people he doesn’t like, but he’s not cruel.

“Leslie told me when you lived,” he says with a shrug. He drops his hold on you, which wasn’t all that strong in the first place and sticks his hands in his pocket.

“Remind me to kill her later,” you mutter, more to yourself than to Nolan. “Why are you here?” You ask because really that was what you wanted to know.

“To talk.”

You almost smile. Almost. A sharp bark of a laugh comes out instead. Nolan, talking. That was rich. “Do you know how to do that?”

“Do you?” He counters.

The press of your lips and the furrow of your brows are the only answer he really needs. The truth is; lately, you’ve forgotten how to talk to people. You don’t know how to communicate anymore. You’ve lost touch with not just yourself, but everyone around you.

“You seem better at running than I remember and worse at communicating. That’s my schtick, not yours.”

“Whatever,” you say with a huff. You don’t really have a choice but to turn around and walk back up the stairs. You push past him and over to your door. The key slides into the lock and the click tells you you’re home. If only you were actually comforted by that. You drop the keys and your phone into the bowl by the front door, kick off your shoes and walk through the door, leaving it open for Nolan.

He doesn’t follow.

“Are you coming in or are you going to stand out there looking like a moron? I realize it’s your natural look, but you’re letting the air out.”

You don’t need to look over your shoulder to see if he came in. The click of the door shutting is answer enough. The silence that settles between the two of you feels thick, suffocating, and awkward. You’re not a fan of the distance between the two of you. You want both more and less, but you have no one to thank for the awkwardness but yourself.

“You wanted to talk,” you remind him. You busy yourself in the kitchen, digging through a cupboard to find your rum and a shot glass. The rejection is coming; you already know that. It would be nice to dull the pain, at least. Take the edge off, perhaps.

“Uh," he says. Nolan James Patrick, ever the eloquent speaker. “Yeah, uh, yeah, I did.”

“Ah!” you say to yourself as you find what you’re looking for. The glass clinks on the countertop so that you can unscrew the cap and pour yourself a drink. You step out of the kitchen, drink in one hand, bottle in the other and tip the glass toward Nolan, “Well, then, start talking.” You knock the glass back and down the rum in one swallow. No one has ever accused you of having healthy coping mechanisms.

“I-” he hesitates. Words were never his strong suit. It’s almost sad how bad he is when it comes to talking about things, especially when they make him uncomfortable.

“You… What, Nolan?” Are you being mean to him? Maybe a little. It feels nice being the one to have the upper hand for a moment, even if you know what he’s going to say before he says it. You go to pour yourself another drink, but the bottle is snatched from your hand. "I was gonna drink that," you say though you don't need to.

He sets it down on a coffee table after he walks around the couch. “I don’t know how to do this.” The honesty in his voice and his statement makes your face fall. You don’t want to see him struggling with anything, and you know it's because he doesn’t want to hurt you.

You follow him into the little living room, a sigh on your lips at his words. “You don’t have to do anything, Nolan. It’s okay.” It wasn’t, but you didn’t need him to know that. The knife that sits between your rib cage has been there long enough to barely recognize the sharp pain from it sliding deeper. “I understand.”

His face scrunches, and he shakes his head. “No, Y/N, you don’t.” That statement confuses you, but you’re not really sure how to react, so you stand there, quietly waiting for him to explain. “I didn’t know, okay? If I’d known…”

“Please, just. Drop it. Please. It’s fine. We don’t need to do this.” You don’t need to hear him say it. Honestly, you’re good with this right here because you’re pretty sure your imagination is worse than anything he could say, and you don’t need to add that on top of everything you can think up. You just want it to be over. You just want to walk away in peace and put him in the past.

“Y/N…” He steps closer to you, his hand reaching for you.

This time you do twist to keep away from him. You don’t need his comfort. “It’s fine, Nolan. It’s better this way, anyway. You didn’t need to come over. I’m sorry I ruined your night.”

“You didn’t… I’m confused.” His hand scratched absentmindedly at the back of his head, and he kicks lightly at the ground, toeing the edge where area rug meets floor with his sock. You hadn’t even noticed that he’d taken his shoes off.

“You’re overthinking this,” you tell him. “It’s okay. You don’t have to let me down gently or anything. We can just -”

“Shut up!” The force of Nolan’s outburst makes you step back for a moment, eyes going wide. He doesn’t typically talk to you like that. “I’m trying to tell you that I feel the same way. For you. Would you just let me say it? Fuck!”

“You… What?” You blink, shock etching your features. There are no thoughts in your head when he finally says what he came there to say. It’s like you’ve logged off. Your ability to process words and feelings all just stopped. The air feels heavy, and you feel dizzy. This isn’t what you were expecting. Of course, it wasn’t.

“This is why you left Philly, isn’t it?” He asks as he steps forward. His hand reaches for your elbow, but you’re too shocked to decide whether you want to pull away or step closer. What you do is wrap your hand around his forearm. At least if your legs give out, he’ll be able to stop you from falling. “Isn’t it?” He asks again.

You nod because you can’t exactly deny it. It’s pretty clear that was why you left. “I just… I needed a place to stay the night, but you and Jacquie were there and I just.. You were happy. It was easier to just leave for good.” There was so much more to it, but you didn’t need to explain that. It was best left unsaid.

He scoffs. “Not really. I don’t think Jacquie actually liked me. Just the idea of me.” You wished that came as a surprise, but you’d seen it a lot in the few short months you’d spend around the Flyers. There were a lot of fake people only looking to capitalize on the name of the players and the team.

“We didn’t last much after you left. She didn’t like all the energy and time I spent worrying about you.” He tugs on your hair and smiles when you roll your eyes.

“You were worried about me?” You ask. You try not to sound pleased, but the little blush that works up your cheeks gives you away.

“My best friend vanishes and refuses to take my calls? Hell yeah, I was worried. When I heard that you were okay and spending time with our friends," he pauses and shrugs, "I figured I did something wrong.” His voice isn't as nonplus as he wants. The little lilt of hurt paints the words.

“No!” You tighten your grip on his arm and pull him closer. “No, you did nothing wrong. I’m sorry I made you think that. I just. I’m an idiot.”

Nolan laughs, and it’s possibly the best sound you’ve ever heard. You’ve missed that sound. His tongue peaks between his teeth; it's a sight that makes your heart skip a bit. You can’t help but match his smile; it’s innocent and sweet and real. It’s unguarded. It’s Nolan like no one else gets to see him.

“Yeah, you are,” he says while he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him.

Your smile slips a little, but it's not in a bad way. You’re shocked more than anything, to find yourself pressed against him. His fingers ghost through your hair, tucking it behind your ear before his thumb traces the line of your jaw.

His touches send a shiver down your spine, causing goosebumps to spring up.  The mood between the two of you shifts almost instantly from light and joking to thick and heavy. Breathing is hard, but it’s a different kind of suffocation. It's the kind that comes with hope and anticipation. It's the kind that settles before a first kiss.

His eyes meet yours before they flick to your lips, the bottom on is caught between your teeth. His thumb tugs lightly on your chin, forcing your lip to come free from your teeth. Even though you see it coming, it doesn’t change the shock or the thrill that runs through you when his lips finally touch yours, and you’re allowed to get lost in him. It’s better than the dream ever could have been. He’s warm and strong and firm. He tastes like alcohol and hope, whatever that means.

Your fingers card through his hair as you lift up onto your tiptoes to give yourself more leverage and possibly not break his back. You don’t want to let go, so you don’t. You deepen the kiss, taking a little of the control from him and testing the water. You’ve imagined kissing him for so long, but it falls short when compared to the real thing. You want to commit this to memory before you have to pull away for a pesky little thing like breathing.

Nolan rests his forehead on yours when he breaks the kiss, a soft smile dancing on his lips. “Can I stay the night?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You can stay forever if you want.” You tell him. It's a bit of a joke because you know he can't, but your heart is light, and you can't help but be happy.

“Forever sounds good.”

[cowboisadness]

Hang ‘Em High {Arthur Morgan x F!OC} Chapter 20

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC

Summery: Belle Hawthorne is high society looking to escape her mean husband. A robbery by the Van Der Linde gang could be her chance. Can she escape his cluches and possibly discover what love should feel like?

.....

Chapter 20

Arthur was more alert by the sixth day. Deciding to stay seated most of the time but also getting up to wander around camp with the aid of someone else, despite his displeasure of ‘needing to be babied’ as he put it. He was sitting up in his cot, his back leaning against the wagon with his journal in his lap. Sketching something by the looks of it with the way he carried the pencil across the page and his brows furrowed in intense concentration. He wanted the hangings to be tied back during the day now to let in some fresh air and probably not to feel as alone. He was always the most relaxed when he poured his thoughts and scribbled his findings into that little leather-bound book. No doubt keeping him grounded when everything around him became too chaotic to control. Glad I asked last night if I could see some of his newer drawings despite his soft protests that they weren’t anything worth looking at. The real Arthur laid within those pages. His attention turned to me as I made my way over with two bowls of stew. A smile gracing his face as he closed his journal and placed it beside him. 

“Went hunting with Charles this morning. Venison instead of rabbit so hopefully it’s slightly more edible.” I said, handing the bowl to him with a smile to match his. 

We sat in silence as we ate, both of us watching the others go about their business all around us. Abigail and John having yet another argument. Molly with her ever-faithful pocket mirror open in her hand as she fixed her hair for the hundredth time today. I never spoke to Molly the whole time being here, but it didn't take long to realise she only wanted the attention of one person here. Sean and Karen sat eating together by the fire, the latter laughing at whatever the former had just said. Javier cleaning his knife. 

Micah sulking outside of Dutchs tent as usual. Looking like a lap dog with separation issues. 

“Yer hairs nice.” He said quietly beside me, pulling me back from my observations. 

I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips, looking down to continue eating. 

“Thought it could help me be less recognisable.”

“Well, it looks nice on ya. Not that ya didn't before - just - smart idea,” He was stumbling over his words, stopping with a sigh and rolling his shoulder. 

He was starting to regain more movement and he was determined to keep it moving despite the pain. No doubt the whiskey he was constantly drinking helped.  Seeing him in constant pain from even minute movements had the guilt rattling within me. I needed to tell him. 

Placing my almost empty bowl down on the table I looked back out to the camp. Taking in a deep breath before speaking.

“I’ve been thinking...something needs to be done with Frank.” 

“You still wanting to kill him?”

“Well, yes,” I sighed “But, I don’t know. He won’t give up, that's clear enough.”

“Seeking revenge don’t help anyone. We will deal with him when the time comes.”

“When will that be? When others are hurt from his orders? When someone is killed?” He sighed then, his shoulders slumping. I watched him and waited. Maybe he had a plan or needed time to think of one. One thing was sure, Frank needed to be gone. 

“Let’s go down to the lake.”

We both walk along the lakeside, making sure to take it slow. His energy was still drained from the ordeal and healing and it would take a couple of weeks till he feels more like himself, but he knew that the injury would affect him for months if not the rest of his life. I know why he's suggested a walk and it's not just so he can escape from the constant noise at camp. But no matter how he tries I can't take my mind off what needs to be done. Living in fear until I or someone else is hurt because of this. I took some deep breaths, letting the fresh open air fill my lungs to steady myself in the hopes the waves of panic will be soothed.

“I want to thank you again for bringing me here that night,” I started with a breath, carelessly kicking the rocks at my feet. He hummed for me to continue.

“I’m a different person from who I was not so long ago. You didn't need to entertain what I was asking that night, never mind help me, but you did and it’s a kindness I don’t think I can repay. These people and the things I have learned, I just know I’m a stronger person because of it and it’s mainly thanks to you and I know I have the ability to actually stand up for myself thi-”

“Bella…” He interrupted to stop my rambling knowing full well I didn't even know I was. Total word vomit instead of saying what needed to be said. 

Another breath

“I’m going to go back,”

He stopped beside me but didn't speak. Expecting me to laugh and say ‘haha fooled you’ but this was no joke. I waited for some sort of reply but instead, he gave out an annoyed huff, looking down at his feet and then out over the lake as he shifted on his feet. Either from him still being weak or from the growing aggravation that was evident from the scowl on his face I did not know.

“I have to-”

“No.”

“Arthur I can’t just si-”

“Are you a fool? You really think going back to him is the smartest idea?”

“If it means you and everyone else will be safe. Yes.”

“I don’t know where your head has been all this time but in case you aren’t aware this life we live ain’t been safe for a long time. We been fighting O’Driscolls for years an’ that ain’t stoppin’. Pinkertons breathing down our necks and you really think we will be any safer if you go back to that sorry excuse of a man?”

I tried to think of something, anything, to say, but my mouth just kept bobbing open and closed like a fish desperate for water.

“And what about your safety?” he continued with a raised voice, taking a few steps forward to close the gap slightly. Making sure no words of his would be lost between us.

“You believe going back to him is better than having me and the others here to protect you?”

Swallowing the lump in my throat and taking in an unsteady breath, I looked away from him and out into the horizon beyond the lake. The reds and oranges filling the clouded sky as the sun began to settle beyond the edge. The distant haze dulling what would be a vibrant and beautiful night thus bringing the promise that the day’s end would be a dark and unsettled one. My mind felt just as hazy. 

“This is all my fault,” I whispered to myself, to him and to the descending sun. 

“You’re staying here where I know you will be safe” he concluded with a snarl in his voice then turning on his heels back towards camp.

Keeping my eyes on the lake I couldn’t watch him walk away again. My shoulders slumping and determined to not let tears well in my eyes to the point of falling. What did I expect? I had to tell him in the hopes he would have a better idea of dealing with this. Instead, I just got reprimanded like a child and left in the dirt, again. 

I couldn’t face walking back into camp just yet so I made my way to the jetty, sitting on the edge with my feet just skimming the water’s surface. Keeping my eyes on the haze as it engulfed everything in the distance. 

I must have been there for hours, the nights chill had set in for good and the crescent moon was giving us whatever light it could reflect. Everything was in black and white. 

Footsteps on the jetty behind me caught my attention and a voice followed.

“You’ll catch your death out here.”

It was Abigail, coming to a stop behind me but still giving me some space. 

“You wanna talk about it?”

I just shook my head. 

“Ya know, talking about your worries does help. I know that’s rich coming from me since John and I shout at each other more than we talk.”  

I shook my head again, not able to trust my own voice. It was silent between us for a few moments, the only sound being the water lapping at the shore. I thought she might have left knowing she wasn’t going to get anything out of me until I heard her steady inhale. 

“This is a nice place to clear your head or get your head in order. Arthur was sat out here just this morning, drawing in that little book of his... Drawing you.” She paused then, waiting for a reply that wouldn’t come before giving up and continuing.

“I’ve been with this gang for many years. He truly cares about you.” 

Then she left, her slow footsteps getting quieter and quieter until all I could hear was the water again. Lower lip now quivering. 

I stayed in that spot for a while longer, could have been a few hours. The moon now high in the sky when I turned my head towards the camp. It looked quiet. Everyone must have been asleep by now. 

So I made my way over, the chill now felt in my bones as I made my way over to my tent. Glancing around the camp to see it empty and quiet apart from the recognisable snores thanks to Uncle.

Everyone was asleep. 

I didn't have much to pack. A few clothes and my gun. Tearing a blank page from one of the books Hosea gave me I scribbled hastily onto it. 

The coast was clear as I slowly made my way out of the tent, making sure not to wake the girls nearby by keeping my footfalls mute. 

But before making my way to the horses I made my way over to Arthurs tent. No light escaping from the bottom of the drapes that were closed meant he must have been asleep. 

I peeked inside to see him on his back with a blanket thrown over him. His breathing deep.

Step by step I made my way inside, watching over his sleeping form as I placed the scribbled on paper on the table, the flower in the jar taking place as a paperweight.

Glancing at him one last time before leaving and making a beeline towards the horses. 

Someone would be on guard but I wasted no time as I mounted Orion and made my way through the trees so I wouldn’t be seen by whoever was stood on the pathways. Withholding myself from looking back.

@kashasenpai @fallout-cowgirl @averyspicybaguette

[misterewrites]

Hellish Blitz (Welcome to the Underground)

Hey everyone! E here after a pretty long month. Sorry it's been a rough one and I've barely had time to actually write the next part down but it is here, it is ready and I hope you all enjoy it! I am very pleasantly surprised how well this original work is doing and I appreciate everyone who reads this story or shares with your friends. Thank you so much and I hope you keep enjoying it. Stay safe, wash your hands, wear you mask and take care of each other. E out have a great week!

Here’s the link if you wanna read it on ao3!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/73437030

Chapter summary:  Now trapped in prison for a demonic hellspawn, Abigail and co. race to find the seal that will weaken the demon and prevent its a escape before it grows too powerful to stop. As Abigail and Oliver search for the seal, it is up to the forsaken paladin Fen and Archibald to distract the demon long enough for everyone to escape.

-----

“You’re terrible.”

“And?”

Abigail frowned, unsure how to respond to the simple matter of fact tone of that answer.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” She asked curiously.

“Why should it?” Oliver eyed her carefully.

“It might affect my opinion of you.”

“So?” Oliver began plucking books off their shelves and tossing them to the floor haphazardly “I don’t really care about your opinion.”

Abigail pursed her lips unhappily “You’re just the worst.”

Oliver kicked over a chair “Maybe but I’m exactly who I said I am. I’m not pretending and putting lives in danger.”

Abigail said nothing, opting to check under a rug for any sign of the seal.

“Besides what do you care?” Oliver shot back “It’s not like we’re not friends.”

“I’m trying to be polite.” Abigail mumbled softly under her breath.

“Don’t.” Oliver said simply “Speak your mind. You might not get a chance later.”

Abigail bit her lips, unsure if this was a trap or some other angle the bard had planned.

Oliver leaned against the wall, arms crossed and eyes focused on Abigail.

Abigail sighed and rose to her feet, brushing away the dust from her hands and pants “I think you are a jerk who has never learned manners ever. I think you get your kicks from pissing off people and making them feel miserable. I can’t get a bead on you and it’s frustrating! Every time I think you might not be that bad, you go and kick a paladin when they’re down! And now I’m going to die with you being an ass.”

“All better?”

“Yeah actually.” Abigail admitted, surprised how much anger and frustration she been holding in. Three days and she hadn’t really realized how much was eating at her.

“Good.” Oliver pushed off the wall, his eyes darting around for any sign of a hiding place “Let’s get a move on.”

“That’s it?” Abigail tilted her head “You’re not gonna say what you hate about me? How much of a goody two shoes I am or that I’m annoying?”

“Nope”

And like that Oliver disappeared deeper into the house, not another word escaping his lips.

-----

The creaking of the house did not help Archibald’s nerves as he and Fen moved silently through the unhallowed halls of the prison.

Archibald’s six months with the Swift Slivers brought him vital battlefield experience he never got as a recruit on the surface but nothing prepared him for this nightmarish situation: Hunting a demonic being from another plane alongside a forsaken paladin with the only goal being stalling long enough for Abigail and Oliver to find a well hidden seal and figuring out how to restrengthen it without any prior experience or knowledge. He didn’t have his family of warriors, clerics and Cecilia his basically sister. He was fumbling in the dark surrounded by strangers whose shared goal was trying not to die.

“Does your bard always make friends this way? Insults and disrespect?” Fen asked bitterly, lute locked in a death grip.

Archibald sighed. Fen had been poking and prodding about Oliver since they parted ways and always with a harsh tone.

Archibald wasn’t sure what to make of Oliver and while he only known him for a day, there was something about the bard that brought him an odd comfort. He was sharp and not just with his tongue. His quick decisive thinking had saved their lives and his firmness reminded him of Borrick. He saw through Fen’s deceit and within moments already figured out the severity of the situation and knew the paladin must’ve arrived with some sort of plan. He subtly pushed everyone into the roles he knew they would be best at: Him and Abigail the noncombatants searching for the seal and the fighters keeping the hellspawn occupied.

Archibald wasn’t sure if he liked Oliver but he knew as long as their goal aligned, he could trust him. Still wouldn’t pay to see him sing though. Too pitchy for his taste.

Out of all the terrain the archer found himself in his six months in the underground, this had been so far the worst. Nothing about this house made any sense: Halls seemed to stretch into impossible lengths, doors tilted and opened at odd angles with rooms changing each time he took his eyes off them. Fen told him the demon would regain more control of the house the more the seal weakened and was no doubt alternating any and everything it could to disorient and distract them. The good news that Oliver and Abigail should be free of such issues as the demon was more concerned with those hunting it.

“On guard” Fen firmly ordered as the pair stepped into a large dining room that no way should’ve fit inside this tiny house.

The room would’ve been spacious to move about if not for the long dinner table centered in the middle. Rusted cups and plates laid rotten and decayed across its surface as the dust swirled about in the air.

Archibald held his bow in one hand with an arrow at the ready resting between his fingers. The holy water vial was safely tucked away in his cloak pocket. He already dipped the arrow within the blessed liquid but he’d doubt a single arrow would slow the demon for long.

“Let us pray your bard is good as he claims he is.” Fen narrowed his eyes, searching through the dark for their prey.

Archibald could feel his skin shiver as the air turned hot and stuffy, a low growl faintly echoed from the shadows.

The beast asked something once more in its infernal tongue but Archibald had never been good at other languages aside common. Borrick taught him dwarvish curse words he’d never use though he desperately wished he could now.

“Steel yourself” Fen murmured unhelpfully

‘No shit’ Archibald thought to himself, notching the arrow in his bow.

-----

“So there’s nothing you believe in?”

Oliver sighed, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice as he pushed a chair onto the floor. The search was going poorly and little time remained.

Abigail rolled her eyes “I take that as no.”

“I didn’t say that, I’m just annoyed.”

“Nothing new then.”

“Well more so.”

“Just answer the question bard. I’m trying not to panic.”

Oliver paused thoughtfully, pursing his lip in concentration before answering “I’m really big in The Choir.”

Abigail raised an eyebrow “A choir? Isn’t that a little too tight knit for such a….solo act?”

Oliver shrugged “Sometimes you need an aria and sometimes you need the marching band.”

“I have no idea what you just said.”

“Yeah that’s par for the course.” Oliver sighed tiredly “We’re getting nowhere.”

“We need to think like the people who made this place.”

“No duh” Oliver scoffed “Okay. This is a prison for a demonic hellspawn.”

“Right.”

“So.” Oliver began to pace back and forth, the creaking of the wood thundering in the silence of the house “It would have to be hidden so the demon didn’t claw at it to break free.”

“Of course.”

“But they couldn’t just let it roam around here unchecked.” Oliver continued “they must’ve intended to come back periodically to check on the prison. Doesn’t matter that they suck at their jobs and forgot!” he threw his hand up in exasperation “Whatever. They needed it somewhere they could access it quick and easy.”

“I know you’re not actually listening to me but I feel uncomfortable just standing here.”

Oliver paused, Abigail could practically see his brain whirling and steaming as he tried to will whatever he was putting together into existence.

And into existence it came when Oliver let out longest unhappy groan Abigail ever heard.

“FUUUUUUU...”

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“...UUUUUUU...”

“Okay you can stop now, we don’t have forever. We don’t actually know how much time we have so be dramatic later.”

“...UUUUUUCK. It’s in the front.”

“What?! SERIOUSLY!?”

“Yes!” Oliver grunted before bolting down the hall “It makes the most sense!”

“Hey wait up!”

“Like you said no time!”

-----

“On your left!” Fen warned but Archibald already ducked under the wide swing of the demon, darting forward underneath its arm to clear some space for his shot on its backside.

The demon was prepared for this though: its arm elongated then bent itself backwards, twisting inhumanly with a sickening crunch of bones as it began to reach for Archibald.

‘Are you kidding?!’ he thought to himself as he dove sideways. He slid across the wide end of the table, knocking the various decayed silverware and plates to the floor as the arm snaked after him in pursuit. He braced himself against the wood and jabbed the holy water tipped arrow in his hand wildly.

The demon grimaced as the hand reeled back, smoke and the hiss of burning infernal flesh filling the room. Archibald scrambled backwards, allowing himself to hit the aged floor with a creaky thud.

“Regain your bearings!” Fen shouted from somewhere “I’ll distract the beast!”

Fen bull rushed the hellspawn and brought down his full weight into his swing. The demon’s face curled into something that reassembled pained surprise as Oliver’s lute crashed into its shoulder, the unmistakable sound of cracking bone filling Archibald’s ears. The demon stumbled back in a moment seemingly confused. Fen pressed the attack, chasing after his hated foe with reckless fury.

Archibald wished Fen focused more on fighting than trying to direct the archer. Any useful information he attempted to convey was already too late and pointless by the time he said it. It was clear he was not used to working in a team: In the Swift Slivers, Borrick more or less taught them to act with autonomy and to trust your fellow mercs. Fighters fought and kept the enemy distracted, archers aimed for the most dangerous foe and Cecilia blasted everything with arcane magic.

Archibald scampered to his feet, his eyes trying to readjust the chaotic back and forth of the battle: Fen fought as furiously as his opponent, trading vicious blows with the demon but making it almost impossible for Archibald to get a clear shot. The demon’s reddish skin contrast with the darkness somehow made it difficult to determine where the wall began and the creature ended. The stuffy air its mere presence created dried his eyes and impaired his vision ontop of everything else.

He gritted his teeth and backed away, arrow loose in his hand as he searched for the opening he needed.

-----

Fen could feel his body surge with the battle fury he hadn’t felt in such a long time. He felt like he had a purpose again, a calling and it was intoxicating.

Normally this infernal beast of hell would be no problem for a warrior of his caliber but at this moment he was no holy chosen of a higher being, he was merely a man and this hellspawn was not of this world.

The bard had not lied about his instrument. It bypassed the beast’s resistance to mortal weapons, bruising and batter more purplish splotches across its body as Fen laid into it.

Fen smashed the lute into its arm again, the crunch of bones heavenly to his ears. The demon snarled, swiping with its free hand but Fen brought his weapon up, the claws scraping harmlessly across the magical instruments surface. Fen countered driving the lute deep into the stomach of the demon. He winced as his wrist ached at the solid mass of muscles the lute ran into. He had forgotten this was not a sword but a mere bard’s instrument.

-----

The demon took advantage of this momentary lapse: It lashed out, trying to catch Fen’s throat. The paladin stumbled to the side. He flinched as the demonic claws raked against his aged armor, the sound of metal scraping against metal overwhelming him for a moment. He realized his mistake too late as he caught sight of the elongated arm snaked above him as it raced forward towards his head.

The demon reeled back in pain, its screams roaring like thunder across the house. The elongated arm retracted, its skin blackened and shriveled as the arrow embedded within blazed with holy light for a moment.

It shot a dirty look towards the archer whom was already prepping another sanctified payload. It growled angrily as it broke the shaft of the now normal arrow. Its skin bubbled and popped, dislodging the arrowhead from within as the demon focused on the archer.

The elongated arm swelled, the skin and muscle mass returning to normal as it launched towards the irritation with deadly intent. The archer had barely managed to dip the next arrow into the cursed water when he dove out of the way, the elongated arm barely missing the prey’s head as it dug deep into the walls.

The paladin yelled, throwing himself back into the fray with religious fever but it was not concerned. The seal weakened and each passing moment it regained more of its unholy strength. The blows from whatever the warrior was hitting it with hurt but sooner or later these human pests would be spent and all demons were well familiar with pain. It waited this long. A few moments more mattered not.

-----

Abigail could see the panic in Oliver’s eyes as he rushed back and forth, tearing the room apart in a desperate search for the seal.

Not that Abigail was much better: she was furiously throwing everything just as manically as Oliver.

They knew every second wasted was a second too long and there was still the task of actually figuring out how to strengthen the seal once more.

“THIS IS WHY I HATE CLERICS AND PALADIN!” Oliver shouted in frustration “WHY CAN’T THEY MAKE THIS EASY!? WHAT KIND OF GROUP FORGETS ABOUT A FUCKING DEMON ON A RANDOM SIDE PATH?! It’s kinda a big deal guys!”

Abigail said nothing, opting find the seal instead.

“We’re running out of time!” Abigail cried.

“No shit! Keep looking! It has to be something they could spot easily and get to!”

Abigail was about to angrily retort that she knew when she spotted something: A sunburst, same as the one on Fen’s armor, embedded in the wall near the front door.

“Oliver!” Abigail gestured hurriedly.

Luckily the bard was quick on the uptake. He made a mad dash for the symbol, eyes glowing with the soft golden light from before. Small fancy looking words surrounded the sunburst but Abigail couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

“It’s celestial.” He murmured more to himself than anything else “Of course it’s the language of the gods.”

“How are you doing that?” Abigail asked curiously as a way to distract herself “I know it’s a spell but…”

“Comprehend languages” Oliver answered honestly “Super basic spell. Normally I’d just cast it as a ritual to save energy but we don’t have ten minutes.”

“What’s it say?”

“The protection of heaven is granted by the sacrifice of pain.”

“That’s...oddly ominous. There’s nothing else?”

Oliver shook his head “And nothing’s scratched out. This is the seal they used but I’m not sure I’m getting what I’m supposed to do! This is oddly dark for the God of Redemption.”

Abigail paused for a moment, trying to remember the few sayings her family taught of the Solius. The protection of heaven is granted by the sacrifice of pain? That didn’t sound right.

“Wait” a thought came to her “Does the spell perfectly translate words? I don’t know about spells but if it’s super basic….”

“No!” Oliver cheered “It translates the most direct version of the words. So it’s not saying the protection of heaven is granted by the sacrifice of pain. It’s saying something similar.

“The path to redemption” Abigail quoted “is made by self sacrifice. That’s the closest quote I can think of in Common.”

“Give me your dagger.”

Abigail was unsure what Oliver had planned but did what the bard asked of.

Oliver took carefully and without a moment of hesitation, jabbed it directly into his palm.

“Oliver!”

But he didn’t responded. Instead he placed his bloody palm in the middle of the seal. The celestial words glowed with a soft gentle light as the blood slowly formed a circle of around the heavenly quote. The blood turned from a dark red to a pure white and the house hummed with a silent energy.

The sounds of battle, formerly unheard, now boomed from the next room. Grunts of effort and the thrashing of broken furniture echoing loudly down the hallway.

Oliver stood up “We need to go.”

“Oliver, your hand.”

“After” Oliver said with a hint of finality “When we’re all safe. Now let’s go get our solider boy. And the paladin I guess.”

The two broke into a sprint, resisting the syrupy urge to rest ebbed at their weary bodies.

“How did you know that would work? Why didn’t you tell me?” Abigail asked, trying to stay focus.

Oliver shrugged “Never ask someone else for something you won’t do. It needed to be done. If I asked you, I needed to convince you and it was going to be painful. Besides it’s about self sacrifice. It had to be willing. No hesitation knowing the freaking religion.”

Abigail said nothing.

With victory and safety filling their resolve, the two made their way into the dining room, Archibald letting loose an arrow towards some unseen threat.

Abigail sighed in relief as Oliver moved to call to the mercenary.

Their faces fell to horror as the demons elongated arm dug deeply into Archibald’s stomach, lifting him off his feet in some sickening display of victory.

“ARCHIE!”