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rowanaelinn · 3 years ago

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Strange Love

A one shot I’ve been working on for a few days to thank you for 100 followers!! I’m so happy to see people enjoying my fics, i truly love it.

warning: nsfw

“What can I get you?” The barkeep asked Aelin with his most charming smile. He was young and a brunette, exactly Aelin’s type, and according to his name tag he was named Chaol. If only she was less tired or if she was in Doranelle for her own fun she might have tried to flirt with him. “We’ll take two Sex On The Beach, please,” Fenrys, Aelin’s best friend, and coworker, ordered for them both. As funny as it was, whenever they saw each other they drank the same thing. They had met at a work conference five years ago, both of them were sitting at the bar, not in the mood to keep up with their boss, and both of them were drinking the same thing. it had become their ritual, that little thing that made their friendship special.

The waiter nodded and started preparing the drinks. When Aelin looked at her friend he had an eyebrow raised and a small smirk on his face. “What is it?” She asked.

“That guy is basically Sam with straight hair, you can’t keep seeing men that look exactly the same.”

“That’s not true!” It was true. “Besides, I wasn’t going to try anything.”

The look he gave her proved he didn’t believe her. When Chaol brought their drinks and winked at Aelin, she couldn’t help but laugh with Fenrys. “Okay, I may have a type,” Aelin admitted and Fenrys shook his head as he drank. “But there is nothing wrong with that!”

“Of course there’s nothing wrong with it, Ace. But having a type and dating the same guys in different fonts every time are two very different things. You need to spice things up!” He shook her shoulders and they both laughed. “You work your ass off all the time. For Mala’s sake, you haven’t got laid in two years.”

She took the little piece of pineapple hanging on the rim of her glass and threw it into Fenrys' head, right between the eyes. “I should never have told you this.”

Of course, the bastard just laughed, he never took things seriously, exactly like Aelin, as long as it wasn’t about her. “We are on another continent for four days, why don’t you go for it and have some fun.”

“I am at a club with you, I’m having lots of fun.”

“Unless you want to sleep with me again, I can’t give you the fun I’m talking about right now.” This time she took Fenrys’s piece of pineapple and this time he received it on the nose.

“Sleeping with you was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.” Fenrys put both hands on his heart, pretending to be hurt by Aelin’s words. She shook her head as she laughed and looked around her. The club was quite crowded for a Thursday night, Fenrys and Aelin both had been lucky to find seats at the bar. “So you want me to take advantage of Elide and Lorcan’s wedding to have sex, that’s what you mean?”

“You'll meet a lot of people at their rehearsal dinner tomorrow or at the ceremony on Saturday. Many of them will be Lorcan’s friends that you will see only for two days.”

“I’m Elide’s bridesmaid, Fen. I won’t have time to flirt.”

“Elide told me Lorcan’s best man was hot!” he tried as he finished his first drink and ordered another one for both of them.

“He is Lorcan’s friend, I don’t trust anyone who pulls out with Lorcan’s bullshit,” She said and finished the end of her glass so that Chaol could take it back and put another one in front of her. “Besides Elide.”

“Amen,” Fenrys said as they clinked their drinks. Lorcan wasn’t Aelin and Fenrys’s biggest fan, and the feeling was mutual. Elide might see another side of this man when it’s just the both of them because Aelin didn’t know why else she would marry him. But Aelin never saw her sister happier than when she was with Lorcan, so Aelin was happy for her.

“Well since you don’t want to get laid tomorrow and Saturday, why not tonight? If you discreetly turn around you’ll see one of the hottest men I’ve ever seen staring at your back.”

Aelin was skeptical. Fenrys and her had similar tastes in women but not in men. She took her drink in hand and turned around slowly as if she was just looking around the club.

Her breath caught when she found a man with silver hair looking at her. He was sitting a few seats away from Aelin, and his eyes were fixed on her. She had dressed up well, she might not have gotten a lot of action lately because of her job but she still loved to be looked at. She was beautiful and she knew it, so she had no reasons to hide.

She had borrowed one of Lysandra’s dresses today, this one was gold. The dress was tight and exposed enough of her chest and back that she caught several glances at her tonight. The stranger was one of them. He had no shame in lowering his gaze to her breast and biting his lip. When his gaze descended again on Aelin's body, she arched her back slightly, crossing her legs to make her dress rise a little more.

As he drank in the sight of her, she marveled at the way his white shirt exposed his muscles. She even caught a tattoo on one of his arms, and with the way his head is turned toward her she could swear the tattoo went up to his neck. It was Aelin’s turn to bite her lip, she always found men with tattoos hot.

When Aelin looked back at his face he had a satisfied smirk, happy to catch her staring. She wouldn’t feel ashamed, not when it seemed he had to readjust his position in his seat after looking at her. She drank her cocktail down in one and delicately wiped her lips with her thumb, drawing the stranger's attention to them. Gods, it was almost too simple. Aelin loved the hunt, she loved to make things last. If she didn't have to fight for something it meant it wasn't worth it.

But the man wasn’t at her side yet, he was just sitting and seemed content to look at her. Most men would already be talking with her now or would be using their tongue in another way. But if Aelin learned something in twenty-seven years of life, it was that men didn’t like to wait. But maybe this silver-haired stranger did, maybe he was like her.

“You’re going to help me,” Aelin said as she took Fenrys' hand, he hurriedly finished his drink before getting down from his chair, following Aelin onto the dance floor. She slightly accentuated the sway of her hips, sure to have the stranger's attention on her.

“You’re the devil,” Fenrys chuckled as his hands slid on her hips and turned her around, pressing her back into his front. They started dancing slowly, both of their hips moving together. As her head fell back on Fenrys’s shoulder and one of his hands trailed up to her stomach, she opened her eyes to find the stranger staring at them.

If Aelin knew anything else about men is that they felt entitled to what doesn’t belong to them. So if she wanted to make him jealous to get what she wanted in the end, she would rather use Fenrys than a random man who could get violent for rejecting him in the end.

“With all the work I put into this I sure hope you'll ask me to join,” Fenrys said loud enough for her to hear as his lips grazed where the shoulder met her neck.

“Go find your own fun,” Aelin wasn’t shy in the bedroom but never had she done a threesome and she certainly wouldn’t have her first with a stranger.

The stranger’s eyes narrowed as she slid a hand on Fenrys’s blonde curls, arching against him. He tightened his grip around his glass of whiskey. Aelin's eyes were fixed on his fingers. She could imagine what they would feel like on her cheeks, breasts, stomach, tights or even inside her. Her inside twitched at that thought.

From the look on his face, he knew what had just been on her mind. Was this supposed to impress me? He seemed to ask as he arched his brow. He leaned in his seat and made a sign to Aelin to keep going. She couldn’t help but smirk and decide she liked this man.

Not one to back down from a challenge, Aelin winked at the man and turned around. She slid her hand around Fenrys neck and he automatically knew what she was doing. He laughed as he lowered his head to kiss her.

The kiss was heated, exactly the way it needed to be. One of his hands gripped her ass, bringing her closer to him while the other found her breast. She moaned, imagining the stranger's hands instead of Fenrys’s. Aelin opened her eyes to find him right in front of her, still sitting, staring at them. He was breathing heavily, eyes fixed on her. It felt so scandalous to kiss someone just for the show, just to provoke someone else.

She closed her eyes as Fenrys broke the kiss to start nipping at her neck. She threw her head back, still thinking about someone else's lips. Fenrys was good at it, but he wasn’t the one she needed now.

“Can I cut in?” A deep voice interrupted them as a warm hand slid on Aelin’s waist. She turned around to see deep green eyes staring at her. Her heart started beating faster at the mischief in these eyes, Aelin had no idea what she had just got into. Fenrys took his hands off her and kissed her cheek, murmuring to her to stay safe, to call him if she needed and he left them alone. Or as alone as they could be in a crowded club.

Having him so close to her made her feel many things but she did her best to keep a normal face. She gasped when he used his hand around her waist to turn her around, pressing her back to his front. Well, that wasn't exactly what she imagined herself doing once she spoke to him. “Don’t be shy, baby. You seemed to like dancing like a whore five minutes ago, didn’t you?”

She could feel herself getting wet at his crude words, this man was going to kill her before the end of the night and she wasn’t complaining. “Maybe I just don’t want to dance with you,” she taunted as her hips started moving with his. As she arched her back to feel more of him, she felt the evidence of his desire. Gods, he had gotten hard watching her. That might be the hottest thing Aelin ever lived.

“Is that why your eyes were on me when your tongue was down his throat?” One of his hands slid up, close enough to her breast for him to stroke the underside with his thumb. Her head fell back on his shoulder and she turned her head to find his eyes on her. She could see all his features now, and she’d been stupid to think every man she had been attracted to had been her type. Her type was him, nothing else.

She couldn’t answer, too overwhelmed. Looking at him as he touched her was too intense, she ground her ass harder on his erection, wanting to make him as desperate as she was. His hand slipped around her waist, holding her as close as he could, as the other one cupped her cheek, keeping her eyes on him. His thumb traced the curve of her lips, she opened her mouth and she stuck out her tongue to lick the tip of his finger in the most provocative way possible while keeping her eyes innocent.

He growled and inserted his thumb in her mouth, she closed her full, luscious, lips around it and turned her tongue around the tip. He leaned to her ear and whispered, tickling her with his hot breath, "You want me to fuck you, baby?"

She nodded eagerly, no longer caring that she looked desperate when his hand slid down to her thigh, just below her dress. He stroked her skin, if he moved his hand up a little he could touch her panties. “Are you wet?” He asked, making her clench around nothing. She didn’t have time to nod before his finger stroked her lace-covered slit. She moaned loudly around his thumb, suddenly grateful for the music. He slipped one finger under her panties and groaned at what he found. She closed her eyes as he caressed her folds, not touching either her entrance or clit. This man was a tease and Aelin loved it. “You’re so fucking wet, is it all for me?” he asked and let out a low laugh when she didn’t answer. “Does it turn you on to be touched in front of everyone?”

As if only remembering where they were, Aelin’s eyes shot open and she turned her head, trying to see if anyone was looking at them. Aelin’s mouth was left empty without the man’s thumb. He used his free hand to push her head back on his shoulder, forcing her to look at him. He had a satisfied smirk on his lips and didn't look worried about the hundreds of people around them.

“Nobody’s noticing you, baby. But you’re gonna have to stay quiet for me because I’m going to make you come right now and I don’t want anyone else to look at you.”

She wanted to protest, she really wanted to. But all she did was bite her lip when the stranger's thumb flicked her clit and another of his fingers plunged into her entrance. He didn’t wait before thrusting into her at the right rhythm to get her off. He added another finger and Aelin couldn’t help but let out another moan.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the pleasure but it apparently wasn’t in the man’s plan. “Look at me when I make you come, baby.” Too gone to care, Aelin opened her eyes and clenched around his finger when she met his eyes. He had the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen and having them on her as she started rolling her hips against his hand was almost too much. “You’re so tight, I can’t wait to feel your cunt around my cock,” He whispered in her ear as he added a third finger. He circled her clit one last time and she fell over the edge, hiding her head in his neck as she bit her lip to the blood not to scream of pleasure. He didn’t stop thrusting into her, prolonging her climax. When her walls stopped spasming around his finger he stopped, pulling out his fingers.

Her legs were shaking and if he didn’t use his arm to hold her she would have fallen on the floor. “You did so well,” he praised her, kissing the top of her head. She just let a man whose name she didn’t know finger her in public and made her come faster than anyone ever did. She could almost laugh at the situation if she wasn’t still so needy.

“Join me in the bathroom?” He asked and she didn’t answer, only took his hand and started walking. The moment he closed and locked the door, she was thrown on the wall and his lips crashed onto hers. She jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist, sliding her hands through his soft silver hair.

"What's your name?" She asked as he kissed her jaw and then her neck.

He looked back at her face, she was grateful he was holding her legs because she felt them weaken, pinned under his stare. “What’s yours, baby?” She wanted to say she asked first, but she knew enough about him to know he was in control.

“Celeana,” the lie rolled off her tongue easily. No matter how good this man was, he was still a stranger and Aelin was a woman. The less he knew about her, the better. “Yours?”

“You won’t need to call me anything else than ‘sir’.” He said with a proud smirk as he got her back on her feet and turned her around to face the mirror. He pushed her so her hands rested on the sink, the only thing holding her when he started kissing her neck.

“If I’m too rough you say red, understand?” He asked, looking at her in the mirror. She just nodded, leaning her back into his front. He pulled her dress up around her waist and spanked her. She bent over the sink, only held on her legs by the man's hold on her hip. The pain spread throughout her body, setting all her nerves on fire. “Use your damn words, Celeana.”

“Yes.” Not the answer he wanted because he spanked her twice, once on each ass cheek, harder than the first time. She couldn’t hold back her moans.

“Want to say something?” He asked, his tone mocking. She shouldn’t like this, shouldn’t like being treated that way. She had had public sex and been degraded for the first time in her life tonight, and the gods knew how much she loved all of it.

“I understand, sir.” She breathed.

“So you can be a good girl, that’s surprising.” He said as he stroked her ass. “You’d deserve to be spanked to the blood for kissing another man in front of me.” She moaned at his words. she arched her back, silently begging for more. He let out a soft chuckle and instead of giving her what she wanted, he took his hand off her ass. She cried out, mourning the loss of his hand.

He wrapped her long golden hair around his wrist, pulling at it. He made her look at him in the mirror as he slid the strap of her dress, exposing her bare breast. Aelin hated wearing a bra, and stopping wearing one did wonders for them.

The man took one in his hand, playing with her nipple as he used his other hand to pull harder at her hair. “Beg for it,” He commanded but Aelin didn’t. Unhappy with her behavior, he slapped her breast, hard. He took her nipple between his fingers and twisted, making her cry out in pain. “If you don’t beg me, you brat, your pretty pussy is the next thing I will spank and I won’t stop until you come.”

“Gods, please,” she moaned, a tear falling from her eye. “Please, sir. Fuck me, I need you in me, sir.” She didn’t care how pathetic she sounded, she would die if she didn’t have this man in her.

“Celeana?” He asked as he made her panties slide down her legs.

“Sir?”

“You’re not allowed to come until I tell you to, understood?”

“Yes, sir.” He bent her over the sink and unbuckled his belt. Aelin wanted to see his cock, he had felt so big against her ass.

His tip teased her entrance and then her clit. She didn’t care if someone heard her moan as he slowly entered her. He was big, bigger than any of the men she ever had. He buried himself to the hilt, groaning as her walls spasmed around him. It hurt to have him inside of her, but she welcomed and enjoyed the pain, and he knew it.

That’s why he didn’t wait for her to adjust and started thrusting into her, hard. Her eyes shut, focusing entirely on the feeling of him filling her.

She was shaking so much she didn’t know how her legs kept holding her. He pulled out and entered her again, hard, his balls slapping her clit. “Your cunt feels so fucking good,” He moaned, going faster, harder. His hand slammed on her ass, tearing another cry out of her. She was close.

He made her rise, hanging the angle of his cock, keeping her from falling with a hand around her throat. Delicately, he tightened his grip, and Aelin’s eyes rolled. His other hand found her clit.

“Sir,” she moaned, trying to hold her orgasm back.

“What is it, baby?” He was breathless. “Use your words, Celeana.”

“Please, can I come?” She prayed to every gods in the world he would let her come, but when she opened her eyes and found him smirking she knew her prayers were useless.

He only said “No,” and thrust faster in her, chasing his own orgasm.

Aelin wished she had a name to moan as she tried to focus on everything but the feeling of this man in her pussy and his finger on her clit. She cried, both in pain and pleasure as he kept going, hitting that spot deep inside of her nobody ever hit before

“Let go,” he grunted. “Come for me, Celeana.” His grip around her neck tightened even more and she lost control. She screamed, loudly, as she fell over that cliff of pleasure. Barely noticing she squirted. He kept thrusting into her and came a second later, spilling himself inside of her. Both leaned on the sink, trying to take their breath.

He pulled out of her and made her sit on the sink. Her back rested against the mirror, too tired to do anything by herself. He got dressed and took some paper to clean her up, she whimpered, too sensitive to be touched. He softly apologized, kissing her shoulder as he helped her get her dress back in place.

“Think you would want to do this again?” He asked, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. There was only curiosity and desire in his eyes, not demands.

“Sorry,” She gave him a small smile. “I’m not from here and anyway, I don’t really do more than one nightstand.” Gods forbid anyone ever gets attached. He only nodded and gave her a small smile full of understanding.

“Will I ever get your name?” She teased him, earning a soft laugh from him.

“I think I‘d like to keep some mystery.”

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

“We’re late,” Fenrys stated as they both entered the elevator.

“We’re fashionably late,” Aelin corrected him and he snorted. Both of them were past the point of fashionably late. Elide would be mad at her, she knew it, but Lorcan would be too and she kind of liked the sound of that.

“She’s going to kill you,” Aedion warned as he met them in the hall. Aelin quickly took him and Lysandra in her arms and started walking to the reception room.

“She won’t be physically violent, she won’t take the risk to ruin her bridesmaid look.”

“It’s Elide we’re talking about, it’s not physical violence I would worry about if I was you.” Lysandra chuckled, of course, she would find it funny. Aelin rolled her eyes but laughed along with her friend. Soon they were in the room, they were careful not to make noises, not wanting to drag attention to them.

She looked at her watch and sighed, one hour late wasn’t that bad, was it? At least, Fenrys would suffer from Elide’s rage if it came to that. Aelin took a glass of champagne and walked to Elide and Lorcan. Lorcan was talking to someone but she couldn’t see who because this bastard was just too tall. “Ellie,” Aelin started, taking the small woman in her arms. Maybe affection will make her less angry?

“You bitch!” Elide whisper-shouted, pushing Aelin away from her. Well, her plan definitely didn’t work.

“Elide, you look ravishing,” Fenrys winked and Aelin had to use all her focus not to laugh at Elide’s angry face. She was almost shaking as if it was taking everything in her not to yell at Aelin and Fenrys. If she laughed right now she was kicked out of the wedding, she knew it. Elide seemed to relax a little as Lorcan’s arms wrapped around her shoulders.

“Galathynius, Moonbeam.” He nodded. “So your plane didn’t crash.” She said with a point of humor but Aelin didn’t care and flipped him off. Fenrys just softly laughed and put an arm around Aelin’s shoulder, a normal way for him to show his affection.

“You two didn’t meet Lorcan’s best man.” Elide said as the man who talked with Lorcan turned around. Aelin’s heart stopped. No, no, no, no. “Rowan, this is Aelin, my sister. Aelin, this is Rowan, Lorcan’s best friend.”

This had to be some kind of sick joke, there was no way the man who fucked her last night was Lorcan’s best man. The universe really hated her. His eyes widened when he saw her and even more when Elide said Aelin’s name. Her real name.

Fenrys burst out laughing loudly, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

—————

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#rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #rowaelin smut #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fic #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass

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happyandticklish · 4 years ago

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Not Just An Annoyance

Notes: For the ask by @ticklish-sidekick. Based somewhere between the Titan’s Curse and The Battle of the Labrynth. As someone who was once the younger kid with the stupidly obvious crush on their older peers, I related a lot to Nico throughout the series. I hope you enjoy my sweet emo child as he receives all the tickles he deserves! :)

Summary: Nico keeps annoying Percy to get him to tickle him, and Percy is oblivious as per usual.

“What’s that?”

Percy jumped near out of his skin at the sudden presence of the other boy peering over his shoulder, banging his knee into the cafeteria table. There was something about the way Nico moved that made him slightly uneasy, like he was sliding out of the shadows. He glanced down at the sword Nico had asked about, which mere moments before had been a pen; Percy had wanted to polish it while everyone else was out at activities.

Evidently, not everyone.

“Uh, it’s my sword,” Percy answered, holding it up for him to examine. “Riptide, technically. Haven’t you seen it before, in battle?”

Nico’s eyes widened at the sight. Before Percy could do anything the boy had snatched it out of his hands, running his fingers over the blunt side of the blade. “Yeah, I mean, a couple times. I’ve never seen it up close though. How come it has a name? How does it turn from a pen into a sword? Do you actually know how to fight with this? Could I try?”

The questions buzzed around Percy’s head, whizzing too fast for him to concentrate on one. He decided to focus on the last one, as he figured that was the most prominent one. “Absolutely not. You’ll get yourself killed.”

He held out his hand for the sword, but Nico was already swinging the sword down in a wide arc, flushing in excitement as it whooshed through the air. “Awesome.”

“Nico, c’mon, give me my sword back.” Percy stood up, attempting to wrestle the hilt of the sword away from him. Nico was small and squirrely however, and easily evaded his grasp, clumsily slashing at empty air several more times. “That’s not safe, you know. And your technique is all wrong.”

“Then teach me the right way,” Nico responded brazenly, completely oblivious to Percy’s growing annoyance.

Percy narrowed his eyes at the insolence. He knew the kid didn’t mean to get in his way, but that didn’t stop him from making endless troubles for Percy. He thought back to Manhattan, and all the times he had acted up in similar manners. He remembered a certain technique his mom had used on him in those circumstances, and he figured they would surely be just as effective now.

While Nico was distracted attempting to heft Riptide into a natural thrust, Percy managed to sneak up behind him and place both hands on his sides. Nico froze, his entire face going red though Percy of course couldn’t see that.

“Give me the sword Nico,” Percy demanded. “Or else.”

Nico stiffened, trying to act brave through his apprehensive confusion. “No. I’m still using it.”

“Okay,” Percy said, shrugging as if to say the matter was taken out of his hands. “You asked for it.”

The last thing Nico expected was for two pairs of fingers to dig suddenly into his sides as Percy enacted his tried and true method. Nico jumped, bursting into uncontrollable giggles as he squirmed in his hands.

“N-Nohohoho!” Nico protested, attempting to wriggle out of his grip but finding that Percy’s strength vastly outmatched his own. “Ahahaha, Nahahat fahahahair!”

“Are you gonna give me the sword?” Percy asked, knowing that technically speaking Nico’s grip was weak enough on the weapon by now that he could grab it himself if he wanted. He decided it was more fun this way, however. “Hmm? What’s that? Are you at a loss for words?”

That’s a first.

“Stahahahap!” Nico screeched, dropping the sword finally and attempting to pry away Percy’s hands. “Ehehehe, pffft, nohohoho mohohore!”

“Are you gonna leave me alone?”

“Yehehehes!”

“And quit asking so many questions?”

“Yehehehes, yehehes!”

Finally Percy backed off and Nico collasped to the ground, wrapping his arms protectively around his middle. Percy calmly retrieved his sword while the other glared at him. “Tickling is not fair.”

“It’s called strategy,” Percy informed him, bumping him affectionately with his foot as he walked by. “See, you did learn something.”

Nico watched as Percy capped his sword, the weapon instantly shrinking down into a pen that he pocketed before walking off to go find the others. His skin still tingled anxiously as phantom tickles ran up and down his sides. He slowly clambered to his feet, trying to shake off the leftover embarrassment from acting so childish in front of someone as cool as Percy. Crumpling into a ball of giggles in front of your hero certainly didn’t help when you were trying to look tough.

But there was something about the way Percy had smirked when he had grabbed his sides, the teasing lilt to his voice, that awoke strange, fluttery excitement in the pit of his stomach. Percy was normally so dismissive of him, treating him as some annoying younger brother; it was nice having all that attention focused on him for a change.

So for the next couple weeks, Nico found himself doing everything in his power to provoke Percy into another “attack”. And, as most would say about him if asked, Nico could be very persistent when he wanted to be.

“Nico!” Percy spluttered, resurfacing after the other had shoved him quite suddenly and unexpectedly into the lake. “What the hell?”

Nico shrugged, flashing him an impish grin. “I wanted to see if the Son of Poseidon could swim better than normal people. I guess I was wrong though, because you seem to be struggling quite a lot.”

“Because you shoved me—” Percy exclaimed, before cutting himself off with an irritated smirk. “Alright then. But you only have yourself to blame for what happens next.”

“What do you mean—wah!”

Nico yelped in surprise as Percy’s hand shot out of the water suddenly, grabbing his ankle and jerking him into the lake with him. He landed with a splash next to Percy, waves cascading out around him. He came to the surface with an indignant gasp, and barely had time to get his breath back before Percy had pulled him into his arms, fingers wiggling into his now soaked shirt.

Nico shrieked, instantly squirming and attempting to evade his grasp, but Percy’s grip on him was too strong. “Ah, wahahait, nohoho, Pehehercy!”

“This is what happens when you mess with the great Percy Jackson,” the other triumphed, squeezing his sides rapidly and prompting a flood of embarrassing squeaks and giggles from Nico.

“Ihihihit wahahahas juhuhust ahahaha prahahahank!” Nico protested, throwing his head back with a wild grin and kicking his legs out violently in the water. “Thihihihis ihihihisn’t fahahahahair!”

“It’s perfectly fair,” Percy argued. “This is revenge, plain and simple. I wonder what would happen if I just…” He grabbed both of Nico arms, holding them above his head with one hand. With the other, he started rapidly spidering fingers in his left armpit. Nico promptly freaked out, writhing and bucking like crazy as the unbearable sensations took over. It was a credit to Percy’s superior abilities as a swimmer that he was able to keep both of them afloat through the process.

Nico got truly desperate when the touches changed from light fluttering into intense drilling, directly in the spot where his armpits met his ribs. “Nahahahaha, stahahahahap, stahahahahap, ohoho myhyhy g-gohohods!”

“Alright, alright.” Percy let go, whereupon Nico’s arms hastily clamped to his sides, and paddled their way back over to the dock. Nico gratefully pulled himself up and collapsed on the wooden platform, freezing cold and giggling.

“That was mean,” he accused, throwing an arm over his face to hide his growing blush.

Percy pulled himself up besides him, playfully poking him in the side to hear him yelp and scramble away. “Hey, sometimes you gotta be mean to teach someone a lesson. Besides, you’re too easy. I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as ticklish as you are—it’s kind of adorable.”

Nico opened his mouth and closed it, attempting to somehow stammer out a response to that. Before he could, Percy had shot to his feet and was off again, presumably to go dry off. Nico flushed violently and, after a moment of hesitation, followed in suit, the slight breeze combined with his dripping wet clothes causing goosebumps to scatter up his arms.

Nico failed to get any sleep that night, as Percy’s words echoed over and over again in his head until he eventually buried his face into his pillow in delighted embarrassment.

The provocation only continued as time went on. Nico sprinted frantically across the camp grounds one late afternoon, dipping in-between confused campers who stared after him quizzically. In one of his hands he clutched a simple necklace—a necklace which happened to belong to one Percy Jackson, furiously in chase behind him. Already, helpless laughter spilled from the young boy’s lips as the anticipation of the chase caught up with him.

“Nico!” Percy yelled after him, hastily apologizing to campers as he bumped and stumbled into them. “That’s important, give it back!”

“Make me!”

Evocative words, a tease Nico knew the other couldn’t resist. Sure enough, Percy soon caught up to him, and instead of grabbing him he skipped straight to digging hands into his sides as the two rolled over on the grass. Laughter spilled already from Nico’s lips as electric shocks coursed up and down his body from the sensations. Percy quickly forgot about the necklace, as he did most of the stolen objects in these games they played, and simply went about wrecking the boy, wiggling fingers into every ticklish crevice on his body until Nico was squealing and begging for him to stop.

Only once Nico had truly reached his limit did Percy back off, letting the other breathe as he collapsed on the ground. Percy retrieved his necklace easily, as it had fallen from the other’s hands quite a while ago. Nico rolled over on his sides, leftover giggles wracking his shaking frame.

“Don’t take my stuff,” Percy warned him, trying to sound angry though most of the anger was stripped from his voice as he beheld the happy boy before him. “I mean it this time.”

Nico nodded frantically, but deep down knew this wouldn’t be the last time.

Weeks went by before either of them said something about it. It was a colder night, one of those midsummer evenings where one could feel the hints of autumn creeping in, and thus Percy sat huddled by the fire, his eyes closed as he absorbed the heat gratefully. There were a couple others milling in and around the fire pit, most either in their cabin or engaged in late-night conversation with friends and lovers. Nico hesitated before approaching him, worried for the first time in quite a while about being a bother. Normally he wouldn’t care as it usually resulted in Percy tickling the ever-loving shit out of him, but he was always worried that he might be going too far and that one day Percy was just going to snap at him in anger.

Not to mention, he looked so peaceful with his head tilted back, eyes closed and wind gently tousling his hair. Nico flushed, pushing the invading thoughts aside. He was well aware of the hopelessness of his crush, but that didn’t stop it from encroaching at the worst times.

“Hey,” he said, lowering himself to the ground and crossing his legs besides Percy. The other startled at his presence, whipping his head around to face him. “Nice night, huh?”

“Yeah,” Percy replied warily. He waited for a moment, clearly expecting something from the other. When Nico did nothing, he relaxed slightly, allowing himself to face the fire again.

“Hey,” he said hesitantly after a couple seconds of silence had gone by, an awkward note to his voice. “I just wanted to say sorry. For, you know, torturing you for the past month. It’s just… I don’t know, I guess I’m just not that used to dealing with kids, and I went a little overboard with you. I know you don’t mean to be annoying, or anything—”

“I do,” Nico interrupted, surprising both himself and Percy. He hadn’t meant to say the words—they had slipped out without his permission. “Mean to be annoying, that is. It’s… uh, on purpose.”

“Oh,” Percy said, frowning a little. “Why?”

Nico shrugged, picking at his fingernails and avoiding the other’s gaze. “Dunno. I guess it just… it felt nice to have your attention, you know? You usually treat me like a pest, or some minor annoyance you don’t want to put up with. I guess it was kind of fun having you hang out with me.”

“Fun?” Percy repeated incredulously. “But I was always so mean to you! I mean, what, do you like being tickled out of your wits all the time?”

Nico blushed furiously, staring intensely at the ground and not responding. It took a moment for the realization to hit Percy. “You do like being tickled? Wait—is that why you’ve been bothering me all this time? So I would tickle you?”

Nico grunted noncommittally.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Percy exclaimed, knocking his shoulder against the other affectionately. “I would have just tickled you, if you had told me that was something you wanted. You didn’t have to force me into it—in fact, I think I would much rather you ask as opposed to just stealing my stuff all the time and shoving me into lakes.”

Nico whipped his head up to stare at him for the first time throughout their entire conversation, his eyes wide. “You don’t think it’s weird?”

“I mean, I don’t personally understand it,” Percy admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I think I would die if anyone tickled me as much as I’ve been doing to you all the time. But if it’s what makes you happy, then it makes me happy. You’re my friend Nico—not a pest or an annoyance. I care about you.”

Those words, such a simple thing for Percy to say, meant the world to the little boy staring up at him. He flushed, trying to figure out how to possibly respond without sounding like a lovestruck dork about it. “Thank you,” he muttered, before kicking a foot out and digging it into the other’s side. “Idiot.”

Before he knew what was happening, however, Percy had latched onto his leg, locking an arm around his ankle and thus securing his foot in place. Nico swallowed nervously as Percy removed first his shoes than his sock, the cold air blowing preemptively against his now bare foot. Nico’s toes curled in anticipation at Percy’s growing smirk.

“Oh Nico,” he said, clucking his tongue regretfully. “You shouldn’t have done that. Especially after you just admitted that you like to be tickled, well… I mean, it’s really your fault what happens next here.”

Nico grinned, ducking his chin into his chest in embarrassment. “I hate you.”

Percy matched his grin with his own and Nico’s heart fluttered traitorously in his chest. “Of course you do.”

The camp soon rung with the sounds of Nico’s crazed giggles, leaving many a camper to stop and stare at the sight of what looked like the famous Percy Jackson tickling the shit out of the new upstart Nico di Angelo. That wasn’t the last time they witnessed such a sight either, and in the end, Nico found he couldn’t be happier with the way things had turned out.

#tickle fic #nico di angelo #pjo #percy jackson #fanfic #fanfiction #fic request #requests #tickling #percico

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asmywhimseytakesme · 4 years ago

Note

Hi, I just saw your blog and I have to ask; do you have any recommendations for people who really, really enjoyed the Murderbot Diaries? Im kinda obsessed with it

Hi @extra-plus-ordinary ! I am so flattered to be asked this because I LOVE giving recommendations.

The first thing I’ll say is, there is a very active Murderbot discord server and if you aren’t in it send me a dm and I’ll get you a link! The lovely folks there can probably give you lots more recommendations than me. I’ll admit I haven’t been on there much lately because life be like that sometimes, but you can bet I’ll be active there plenty when the next Murderbot book comes out in a few months! The folks there also found me links to a couple Murderbot short stories that you should absolutely check out if you haven’t yet.

I have to admit, my first thought on getting this ask is... there isn’t anything else quite like Murderbot! Sometimes all you want is more Murderbot and we don’t have any (yet). The first time I finished the series I started over again at the beginning because all I wanted was More Murderbot Please. It took me awhile to be in the mood for anything else. I absolutely recommend indulging that mood because personally, when all I want is Just This Book, I end up disliking anything else I try to read, even when I normally would like it. But! If you are in the mood to try something a bit different with perhaps some overlapping appeal, let me offer a few suggestions:

The Queens Thief series by Megan Whalen Turner

I have to mention this first because it’s fans of THIS series that got me to read Murderbot. Also I’ve been obsessed with these books since I was a teen. Similarities between the series include:

Sarcastic first person narration—this is mostly just in the first book of the series, The Thief. If you, like me, fell in love with Murderbot because of its voice, give this book a try. Gen is a different narrator in many ways, but I find the appeal similar. There are also some similar character dynamics and interactions with a group gradually getting to know a character they previously underestimated, and forming strong friendships over the course of the series.

However, I will note that The Thief is notably different from the rest of the series in tone and pacing, and some people find it boring. That was not my experience, but many recommend starting the series with the second book.

The second book has a character that I feel is similar to Murderbot on many levels, but I don’t want to say much more about it because SPOILERS. Actually I don’t want to say any more about the series at all because it’s really best to just go in and experience it for yourself. Take my word for it—many people love both series, there is lots of crossover appeal.

The Mandalorian tv series

Ok I feel kinda dumb mentioning this because I feel like everyone’s probably heard of this show by now and has already decided whether they’re gonna watch it. I mean, it’s STAR WARS. So I’ll be brief here, but I really feel like Mando and Murderbot have a LOT in common and would get along really well, and people drawn to one of these characters might also like the other. Murderbot wishes he had as good an excuse as Mando for keeping a helmet on at all times. They’re both similarly good at their jobs (which involve fighting), and end up coming to care for characters weaker and less experienced than themselves. They then put themselves on the line to protect their new Found Family, while steadfastly refusing to admit that they have any feelings whatsoever. Also, so far? No romantic pairings. Murderbot would approve. There are more comparisons I could make but I’ll stop....So yeah, if for some reason you haven’t given The Mandalorian a try.... do it.

Digger by Ursula Vernon

Ok, so the cool thing about this recommendation (aside from the fact that it’s a super amazing story, which I’ll talk more about in a bit) is you can read the WHOLE THING. FOR FREE. RIGHT NOW. Don’t have to put it on hold at the library, don’t have to order it and wait for it to come in the mail, don’t have to track it down in a used bookstore. ITS ALL FREE: http://diggercomic.com/blog/2007/02/01/wombat1-gnorf/

That link should take you to the first page of the comic.

The first comparison I’ll make here is the VOICE. Digger has a first person funny/sarcastic voice that reminds me a LOT a of Murderbot. Different, of course, but..., I think Murderbot would really like Digger. She would be a good client. Practical, tries to stay safe and make good decisions, and she would 100% get Murderbot’s sense of humor. She gets thrown into a crazy magical world and takes it all in stride, making plenty of friends she’s ready to defend with her life.

Yeah, Murderbot would like Digger.

I’d go on, but seriously—did you forget I just said THE WHOLE THING IS FREE TO READ ONLINE so just.... go start reading it and get a taste for it yourself.

http://diggercomic.com/blog/2007/02/01/wombat1-gnorf/

The Vorkosigan Saga

This is a big one that will keep you occupied for awhile! I don’t remember how many books are in the series... 20 maybe? I don’t even know. This is the series I re read when I was coming off my Murderbot high a few months back, because in some ways it has a similar vibe.

Anyway, this is another Space Drama that explores some interesting potential economics, politics, and conflicts of a future of planets linked by wormholes. Some of the planets have a more Corporation Rim feel, others are like Preservation, with many others thrown in the mix. The main character, Miles Vorkosigan... he would love Murderbot. He’d recruit it on the spot—a competent person who shows initiative? Wonderful! On the other hand, Murderbot would HATE Miles.... no sense of self preservation, barreling into problems with no clear plan of how to get out... he would drive Murderbot absolutely crazy.

Personally, I started reading the series with The Warriors Apprentice, and that’s where I recommend starting. However technically Shards of Honor, which tells the story of Miles’ parents and how they met, is the first book chronologically.

The Winter Prince by Elizabeth Wein

This is a very short novel (so if the Murderbot novella length worked for you, give this a try). It’s a gripping take on Arthurian Legend told from the point of view of Medraut (Mordred). Medraut reminds me of Murderbot in many ways—he feels unworthy of love because of what he is, wrestling with a violent past and trying to be better, struggling to know what to do when he is loved by people who he doesn’t think should love him. Also, like All Systems Red, his narrative is addressed to a specific person, which affects how the story is read.

So those are just a few books/series I recommend for Murderbot fans! And everyone, really, because these are all excellent because my taste is impeccable ;-).

I hope there is something here to tide you over til the next Murderbot book comes out @extra-plus-ordinary 😁

#Murderbot #Murderbot diaries #queens thief #Vorkosigan saga #Mandalorian #the winter prince #digger comic

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spencersstrawberryjello · 3 years ago

Text

Inside Scoop (Chapter One)

Chapter One - The Greatest Regret of my Life

Previous Chapter < - > Next Chapter

Chapter Summary: Dahlia Silvers is on her way to work when she makes a horrifying discovery that will change her life... and lead to her getting tangled up with the Behavioral Analysis Unit.

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of corpse (violent death), police interactions (please let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count: 2417

A/N: Yay new story!! Ok, two quick things I need to mention before we get into it: one, I have absolutely no clue about the roads in DC and I merely listed two ones that I knew were on a corner. And two: I also have no clue where the Washington Post office is, and am not trying to make any claims about the company in any way, it’s just a reputable news place in DC so I wanted to use it for the story (please don’t sue me Jeff Bezos). Ok that’s all - hope you enjoy!! :)

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It was raining.

I knew we were supposed to get a short shower this morning, but I still groaned as I walked out into the disgusting downpour bombarding the streets of DC.

The only positive thing about days like this was the lack of people on the sidewalk. Generally everyone was dashing to the subway before they could get too soaked, but I only lived a few blocks from work. So I elected to walk.

Usually, that was fine. I had my umbrella, and I got into the office in about fifteen minutes, give or take a few. After that I got my writing assignments for that day within ten, and I got to work.

Usually.

The smell hit me first. Initially, I thought it was just rotten fruit, or something similar that someone had thrown out, but the closer I got the more it smelled rancid, impossible to describe.

The next thing I noticed was the bag.

The woman’s purse had been thrown from her hand. Or maybe it had fallen, I had no way of knowing. All I knew was that I saw it sitting on the sidewalk at the mouth of the alleyway I was about to walk past.

One of the greatest regrets of my life was picking up that purse.

Because when I picked it up, I had to turn and see who it belonged to. And that’s when I saw her.

I wasn’t sure how long the blood had been pooled around her body, but it was dried on the concrete. Her head was twisted at an unnatural angle, revealing the deep slash wound across her throat. Her hands were bloodied, and I had no way of knowing if it was her blood or someone else’s. All I knew was that this woman was dead, and there was no way in hell it was due to natural causes.

The combination of the sight in front of me and the smell of decay permeating the air sent a wave of nausea through my body, and my eyes watered as I turned away, vomiting on the sidewalk not far from where the woman laid. I fumbled to pull my phone out of my pocket, my hands shaking as I dialed 911.

“911 what’s your emergency?”

“Someone’s dead. It’s a woman, she - I was on my way to work, and I just found her - holy shit…”

“Ok ma’am, I’m going to need you to calm down please, everything will be ok. Can you tell us where you are right now?”

“Yeah, yes,” I forced myself to breathe, stepping out to the edge of the sidewalk in an attempt to read the street sign in front of me. “Right by the corner of 9th and G Street NW. There’s an alley a few feet away from the intersection. She’s…” I turned back to the woman’s body for a moment before forcing my eyes away again. “I don’t know what happened. It looks bad, I -”

“It’s ok ma’am. What is your name?”

“Dahlia. Dahlia Silvers.”

“Ok Dahlia. Is there anyone else with you? Or around you?”

I scanned my surroundings before responding shakily, “No.”

“Is the woman alive?”

“No.” I don’t know of anybody who could survive their throat being slashed.

“Ok. A team is on their way, but I need you to stay calm for me, ok?”

I nodded, despite the fact that she couldn’t see me. “Alright.”

“Good. Can you stay on the scene so that investigators can speak with you when they arrive?”

My first thought was that I was going to be late for work. It’s actually kind of funny, in retrospect, how unimportant that is compared to the discovery I just made. But the thought was still there.

“I think this would be a valid reason to call in sick.” I replied. The woman on the other end of the phone laughed lightly.

“Yes, I think it would. Would you like me to stay on the phone with you until the team arrives?”

“No, I’m just… I’m going to walk away a bit? Is that ok? I can’t… I mean, I’ve seen pictures and videos of stuff like this, but I didn’t think it would be so -”

“As long as you’re nearby, everything should be fine. It’s understandable that you would need to move away from the body.”

“Ok. Ok,” I took in another deep breath, “I’m ok.”

“A team should be there in a couple of minutes.”

The line went dead, and I sunk down against the wall of the building by the alley, far enough away that the smell of death couldn’t follow me. I felt like it was in my clothes, in my hair; for a second I thought I was going to throw up again, and I put my head in my hands, forcing myself to breathe until the investigators arrived on the scene. I had half a mind to realize that it wasn’t raining anymore, but I couldn’t be bothered to figure out where I’d dropped my umbrella. My clothes were sticking to my skin, and everything on my body felt viscerally wrong.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen images of dead people before; I was a young adult, and I liked movies. Obviously I was used to gore. But the stench… nothing could’ve prepared me for that.

I was surprised at the sheer number of people that showed up: I mean, there was a CSI van, which I expected, but a black car pulled up behind them, as well as two city police cars. Immediately, the CSI team got to work, and the rest of the people began piling out of their cars. The first person to take notice of me was one of the police officers, and he immediately made a beeline for where I was sitting on the sidewalk.

“Are you Dahlia Silvers? The woman who called in the body?” He asked. I nodded, and he held out his hand to me, helping me up on unsteady feet.

“Thank you.”

“‘Course. Now, I’d like to ask you a few questions if that’s ok?”

I nodded again, and he began a surprisingly long tirade of questions. Why was I passing by, where was I going, did I walk this street every day, what did I see first, did I touch anything on the scene, did I know the woman, had I seen anyone else - everything I should’ve expected but didn’t even think about in the wake of everything I’d just witnessed.

I answered accordingly: work, work, yes, the purse, the purse, no, no - I mentioned that the vomit was mine, and that I’d picked the purse up with the intent to return it to whoever dropped it. I mentioned that the first thing I picked up on was the smell, and that I had no idea what happened. Only that my day was perfectly normal, and then -

“Excuse me, officer?” A new voice cut into our conversation, a woman. I turned to look at her, noticing the FBI logo on her jacket immediately. “I’d like to speak with Ms. Silvers for a moment, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course Agent,” He nodded, rejoining the larger group that we were standing a bit away from. I knew he was still watching me, but I couldn’t be bothered to worry about my status on this case’s suspect list right now. I was still trying to process the fact that there was a fucking dead body about five feet away from me.

“Dahlia Silvers?” She asked, as if she didn’t already know. I nodded, and she smiled, introducing herself as well.

“I’m Special Agent Prentiss, I’m with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Immediately my brow furrowed with confusion. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Well, we study -”

“No, I’m sorry, I should’ve been clearer: I know what the BAU does. What is the BAU doing here, in DC?”

“We’re investigating a string of recent murders, and we believe that this one is most likely connected to the case.”

“... If there have been enough murders here that your team needed to come down, why aren’t any of the news stations covering it? I haven’t heard anything about this.”

“We’ve put a block on most of the press until we can gain a better understanding of the situation. I understand why you might feel betrayed by the media -”

“It’s not like that at all,” I rushed to correct her, not realizing I’d cut her off again, “I’m a journalist. I work for The Washington Post. Our office is like three blocks away, that’s where I was headed when - when I saw her.”

The woman nodded, a sympathetic expression on her face. “I’m sorry that you had to see all of this.”

“Thank you,” I gave her a small smile. I did appreciate it, but honestly, I’d recovered from the sight pretty quickly. I’d started working in crime journalism recently, and that came with it’s fair share of gruesome images and stories of tragedy flooding my computer. Hence the reason why my lack of knowledge on these murders was a concern. “I’m just confused as to why I didn’t hear about the murders, while working for a news site. It would make sense for a few stories to slip through, or for our CEO to announce something to us writers - how the hell did you manage a full media block?”

She laughed a bit at my bluntness, but said, “We got here very shortly after the first murder. We were able to restrict almost all stories about the event immediately.”

“Almost all? No, you guys got all of them - I have a keyword filter set up on Google to email me whenever a seemingly newsworthy event happens in the surrounding area, and I feel like ‘local murder’ would definitely count as newsworthy.”

“That’s… surprising, but it makes sense. Never underestimate the power of Jennifer Jareau - that’s our press liaison, she handles -”

“Oh yeah, I know her! I’ve spoken with her a few times when you guys have had cases in DC.”

“Right! Yeah, she’s great…” She got a sort of far-off look in her eye for a moment before she cleared her throat, “But that’s not what I’m here to talk to you about. I know that you spoke with the local police already, but I was wondering if you’d be willing to return to the station with us so we could interview you a bit further - you’re not under arrest, you’d be free to go at any time, we just have a couple more questions.”

I was hesitant, but at the same time, there was an itch in the back of my mind. An itch to know more. If this was a chance for me to find out what’s been going on, no way in hell I’m saying no to that.

Plus, if I did say no, that would be incredibly suspicious.

So I nodded, allowing Agent Prentiss to lead me back to the black vehicle that arrived with the slew of police cars. She opened the passenger door for me before shouting to someone who I’m assuming was one of her coworkers.

“Reid! Stay here and investigate the scene - I’m going to escort Ms. Silvers back to the station, and I’ll be back to pick you up.”

I heard a faint response before she shut the passenger door, climbing around to the other side and allowing me a glimpse of whoever she was talking to.

He was standing on the pavement, still looking at the car, nodding as I’m assuming Agent Prentiss said something else to him. The blue sweater he had on over his button up presented an interesting contrast between the pantsuit I’d seen Prentiss wearing, and the ridiculous query of the nature of the BAU’s uniforms crossed my mind before I turned my attention back to the matter at hand.

The matter at hand being, of course, discreetly staring at the man in front of me.

His curly hair rested almost at his shoulders, and I was mesmerized as I watched him speak, one hand flying and the other holding onto a thin wooden cane. Finally, he nodded definitively before turning back to the crime scene, and my eyes snapped to the driver’s side door as I heard Agent Prentiss slide into the seat next to me.

“Oh please, don’t let me interrupt your staring at Dr. Reid,” She held up her hands in mock defense, trying to keep herself from laughing, “I’m merely the driver.”

“Sta - what, I wasn’t staring, I -” I immediately started to defend myself (even if I totally was staring at Dr. Reid), but Agent Prentiss laughed again.

“Relax, Ms. Silvers. I’m only teasing. He is quite a good-looking man, isn’t he? Not my type, but I’m not blind.”

I blushed, acknowledging her statement with a nod as she put the car in drive, pulling away from the curb. As we started down the road, the full weight of the events that just occurred finally hit me.

I found a corpse.

I was on my way to a police station.

I might be the main suspect in an ongoing murder case. I hadn’t actually asked about that yet.

It was almost as if Prentiss had noticed the shift in my mood - honestly, there’s a chance she actually had, she was a profiler - because she broke the silence with a question.

“Ms. Silvers? How are you feeling?” She asked. I just shook my head.

“Please, call me Dahlia. And honestly, I have no idea how I’m feeling. I… well, I’m sure I don’t need to say that nothing like this has ever happened to me before.”

“I’d be surprised to hear you say it had,” She laughed. I laughed a bit too, though I couldn’t ignore the anxiety eating at me.

“I’m pretty sure I haven’t processed it yet,” I said honestly.

“You’ve gone through a lot in the last hour,” She agreed, “And I hate to say it, but you’re going to have to go through a little bit more. We’re here.”

We pulled into the police station, and she put the car in park, hoping out. I followed suit, and we both headed up the walkway to the front doors.

I was practically trembling with nerves, but at the same time, excitement coursed through my veins at what I might learn.

The BAU might’ve put a blockade on the media from the outside, but I was getting the inside scoop.

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luvdetroit · 4 years ago

Note

Hey! I 've just read the first chapter of the dbh series you wanted to start, and I really like the plot 🥺 Do you plan on continuing it? 👉🏻👈🏻

hey, sorry for the late reply! i actually do have it planned out a bit differently than i originally wrote it in the first chapter. i think this planned version is better than the one i posted. there are many other ideas that i have in my drafts, i just haven’t released them yet.

thank you for reading it! i'm happy you enjoyed it and i'm sorry for saying this but i think i'll just scrap this idea and go with my new one (VOW). it will be somewhat similar, just more complex? and hopefully interesting!

not sure if you are even interested in hearing about them but i’ll drop them here! maybe if you or anyone is interested, i will follow through with posting them (have been feeling very bad about my writing recently).

for anyone who does read my ideas, please do not steal! i really worked hard on thinking about these and would be really hurt if anyone took them. they aren’t super original or anything, but i still created them 😩

these are really roughly written so please don’t judge 🚶🏼‍♀️🚶🏼‍♀️

please do comment or send me a message in my inbox about which idea you like more, if i should do a specific one or all of them even! 💞💞💞

1. TITLE: VOW

pairings: various! x fem!reader

genre: meta (?), angst, fluff, etc

plot: metafiction. mc surfs the web to buy d:bh and finds a seller who is willing to sell the game for cheap (suspiciously). mc contacts the user and a deal has been made.

we will flesh out the seller later, he ain’t all that important rn. so mc gets the game after maybe two days? and in the packaging the seller wrote a letter to her, it is pretty cryptic. we can get into detail on the letter and stuff later.

so mc starts the game up right away because she is excited to play it. on her first play though everything is pretty normal. there are a few differences/odd occurrences but mc doesn’t bat an eye because it’s her first time playing so she wouldn’t know.

gradually as she plays, the characters (connor and markus) are more aware of them being in a game. (sense they are in the same series and are prototypes it only makes sense for them to be able to sync themselves/go beyond their coding).

connor and markus have broken the fourth wall/have become aware with other players. they grow a deep hatred for the player. sense they can’t throw their anger at the creators of the game, they can do so with the player.

at first, connor and markus only did minor things that didn’t really stand out to the player. when connor/markus breaks the fourth wall and directly talks about the player, the player thinks it’s apart of the game.

but when connor/markus mentions the player’s name that is when they freak out a bit, but assumes the characters got their names from their playstation.

it’s only when connor/markus states some personal stuff about them do they feel fear. (connor/markus can sync with the smart tv that also contains all their info).

connor/markus have tried to sync with the game/tv enough to transport the player in the game so the player can experience first hand what it’s like to live in their world. but their connection weakens each time the player resets. their memories are also wiped out.

over time connor/markus are able to retain their memories a lot faster but forget the previous players of the game. even if they don’t remember the previous players they still think of one goal. transport the player into their world, let them suffer, seeing first hand how THEY feel.

connor/markus will be slightly oc. they will have somewhat of a dark side.

i didn’t explain this in the summary bcus i’m dumb but the game can’t be destroyed (it’s like a possessed object). even if you throw it out or something it will still go back to you bcus you own it. the only way to get rid of it is selling it.

ik some wack logic but sjakwkw

sam is the seller of the game. (his username is GAMER BOY 69). the game is sold for $10 with free shipping and no tax.

mc: does this really only cost $10? why is this so cheap?

sam: i’m just being generous

sam: are you willing to buy it?

mc: can you show proof that you actually have it and it isn’t broken?

sam: sure, hold on a second

[sam sends a video of him filming the game packaging and saying his username (in a bit of embarrassment) and mc’s. he reassured her that it isn’t broken and works perfectly fine. he tells her he didn’t like the game so that’s why he’s selling it.]

sam’s letter is in a white envelope, his writing is slightly messy, almost jittery (from nerves). he feared he was being watched by, ‘them’ so he wrote cryptically.

sam’s note: i’m sorry i did this to you. i really am. i just didn’t have any other choice. don’t play the game, please.

2. TITLE: PARESTHESIA

pairings: various! x fem! reader

genre: dark au, cult au, angst, fluff, etc

plot: in this au kamski doesn’t publicly make androids n stuff

so amanda stern is still kamski’s mentor in this au

she, ‘disappears’ at some point and is listed as a missing person

kamski knows she isn’t gone though bcus she told him her plan

basically amanda is very manipulative and warped kamski’s young mind into thinking humans being lesser beings and that kamski can really create something even more superior, androids.

kamski and amanda are humans but they are excused because of them being intelligent and having that sort of mindset- humans being filth on this planet

instead of kamski making cyberlife public

he instead also disappears after a few years later (once he’s done w college)

it’s a gap between amanda and his disappearance to not completely draw suspicion

cyberlife is created in secret, hidden from the public

belief: humans are disgusting and should be replaced by something far superior, androids.

rules: only those who have the same mindset as kamski and amanda can join the cause and contribute. (so human co workers of amanda and such help gather material and thirium (blue blood) to create more androids in secret).

practices: a member has to willingly be able to sacrifice any body part kamski chooses to replace for an android part or partake in any experiment kamski may have. if not, they aren’t fully in the cause and should be ridden of.

kamski wants to take a oblivious civilian in for a secret test of his

he wants to test out how human his androids can be and if it can blend in with humans in normal day to day life.

so he releases one of his androids, connor (rk800) out into the world. his mission is to find a human he can initiate a relationship with. once he finds that human, he slowly grows a relationship with them over time- kamski is studying all of this through connor’s eyes.

kamski is amazed by this new discovery- his androids do blend in with humans well.

the last secret test for mc is connor telling her his true nature. (telling her he isn’t human, he’s an android). connor breaks this to mc at his, ‘house’ which is connected to their secret compound/underground base.

kamski wants to know how mc will react to this news because her actions depends on whether she’s just another piece of human scum or not. this will validate whether she can join their, ‘organization’ or not.

mc will be confused by connor’s sudden news at first. she won’t believe him until he pulls back his skin to show his porcelain interior.

she’ll be surprised then and question whether their relationship was all real or not.

connor reassures her that he does share her feelings. he admits that at first this was a mission but he truly does feel for her. he asks her if she still has feelings for him even after knowing he isn’t human and mc (after a bit of thinking) says that she does.

this makes connor happy as well as kamski bcus mc got through the test. this is the first android-human relationship too.

a few days pass just to really make sure mc doesn’t act any different and really is telling the truth about having feelings for connor still- when connor informs mc that his creator wants to meet her in person one day.

connor and mc go to his place and he leads her downstairs to his normal looking basement- and there is this really intricate hidden puzzle/door that opens to their underground compound.

connor leads mc to a room and meets kamski. kamski comments on mc- on how he was surprised that mc quickly took a liking to connor and how she still has feelings for connor even after finding out the truth. he’s impressed and approves of the relationship.

he tells her he hopes she keeps her word about this organization being a secret because he wouldn’t want anything bad happening to her so soon.

after that connor and mc go about their relationship like normal. although, connor has been experiencing these odd feelings lately. he’s also been oddly wanting to act out violently towards the most smallest things. like mc talking to someone else, smiling at someone else, touching someone else, even if it was platonic.

it didn’t sit right with him. he never voiced these new feelings to kamski though. he was too afraid kamski might tell him he has something wrong with his software. he doesn’t want kamski to call him defective and replace him for another connor. he doesn’t want to be seen as not good enough for mc.

connor doesn’t act on any of his thoughts. he doesn’t let his emotions control him.

after about two weeks kamski calls connor and tells him he wants him to meet someone (rk900) and that he should bring mc.

so connor visits the compound and meets kamski in a lounge area with mc. they both enter the room with kamski casually laying on a lush couch. a small smile is brought on his face when he noticed connor and mc’s presence. he greets them both and tells them that he’s happy they could make it.

connor opens his mouth, about to ask who the person kamski wants him to meet when rk900 walks in with two cups of tea + thirium in his hands.

rk900 places a tea down in front of kamski, the other tea and thirium on the opposite side of kamski’s before returning his attention to connor and mc. his eyes scrutinizing connor and mc.

kamski’s smile widens at connor’s reaction and stands up, clasping rk900’s shoulder with one hand. he prompts rk900 to introduce himself.

rk900 introduces himself somewhat stiffly in a monotone voice.

rk900: my name is conan.

it was short and to the point. he offers an open hand for a handshake.

connor looks over conan, completely ignoring the hand offered to him, then at kamski with all sorts of emotions. the main ones being confusion and fear. at this point connor is wondering if conan is going to replace him for a reason connor does not know.

kamski breaks the awkward silence/tension in the room.

kamski: “well, connor? aren’t you going to greet your brother?”

connor takes a few moments to process this information and absentmindedly inquires, “brother?” in a small voice. his brows furrow slightly and his gaze draws towards his look alike. from up close, conan looks exactly like connor with a few differences. he was slightly taller than connor and had cool greyish blue eyes. why would kamski decide to make me a brother? i didn’t ask for one.

kamski: “yes, brother. i just thought it might be lonely to live alone in that big house of yours so i have gifted you with your own brother.”

at this point connor is having a mental breakdown. kamski doesn’t do things without a logical reason. he’s not telling me the full truth.

connor finally breaks out of his thoughts, his eyes darting back to kamski and he nods shortly, ignoring conan’s still outstretched hand and his presence altogether.

connor: [in a stony voice] okay, is that all?

conan drops his hand.

the corners of kamski’s lips twitch, threatening to split into a menacing smirk at connor’s cold reaction. kamski clicks his tongue mockingly and sits back down, grabbing his tea.

kamski: “that’s not how you should treat your brother. [sighs] that will be all, but you have to teach conan how things work around here. that’s what a big brother should do, after all.”

connor bites back a disgruntled sigh of his own and settles for a slight frown.

connor: “why wasn’t he informed before meeting me? didn’t he go through the same test runs as me?”

it took everything in connor to not let his irritation show through his tone.

kamski pins connor with an annoyed glare, a small bit of amusement shining through.

kamski: “why are you testing my patience connor? are you not happy with my gift?”

kamski’s words were light mockery, with a dark undertone to them. connor knew better than to irritate his creator further. he bows his head slightly to him.

connor: “i apologize for causing you further inconvenience. i..am just surprised by the new addition, that’s all.”

kamski simply nods lazily. waving a hand, he tells them they are dismissed.

connor turns away from his creator and him to the exit with you following right beside him silently. he places his hand on the small of your back and presses you close to him possessively. the slight tapping of a pair of shoes follow behind connor and you. connor ignores it.

connor walks through the maze of hallways without pause, part of him hoping his, ‘brother’ would get lost and never return.

he knew better though. without even looking, he knew conan wasn’t even a step behind and it irritated connor to no end.

once the three enter the, ‘main area’ which was basically the center of the compound, connor turns around to face conan.

connor: [monotonously] “give me your hand, i’ll transfer the data so this all can be over with.”

connor outstretches his hand. part of him wants to pull it back because he doesn’t want to touch him.

conan looks at connor’s outstretched hand to connor’s face.

conan: “no, i can’t do that. kamski specifically told me to get the information from you the, ‘human’ way. he wishes for us to talk to each other like brothers.”

connor looks even more bewildered at that bit of information..why would kamski do this without his consent? this..has to be some sort of test. maybe conan is just playing the role as his brother to spy on him and catch him doing something that may incriminate him? does kamski know about his odd..’glitches’? did he make rk900 just to dispose of him and replace him?

no, he couldn’t have known..the cameras in his opticals were shut off weeks ago. so why was rk900 here? what is kamski getting at?

connor also took notice of how..machine like conan is. conan walks stiffly and has a rigid stance. in that sentence he brings up what kamski wants rather than his. he follows kamski’s orders as if they were law without question.

connor still has his hand in front of him and ignores what conan says

he’s like, “it would be easier if we just did this.” (he’s irritated and is insistent)

and conan refuses, again repeating, “we have to follow kamski’s orders.”

and connor taunts conan

he’s like, “can you not think for yourself? i thought you were supposed to be alive.”

at that, mc finally speaks, telling connor off, “that’s enough, connor. i think you should just follow what kamski says. conan is just as alive as you and needs some of your guidance.”

connor’s eyes slightly widen as well as conan’s. connor’s frown deepens at your words. you’re defending him. why? you should be on his side, not him.

conan still has a blank face but his eyes are now trained on mc, curiosity being one of the emotions flickering in his eyes.

connor notices conan looking at mc and narrows his eyes in disgust.

connor: fine..we can discuss everything at my place.

connor turns and places his hand back on mc’s lower back, pressing her as close to him and far from conan as possible.

conan follows on without question.

3. TITLE: DARK EXTERIOR

pairings: various! x fem! reader

genre: dark au, angst, fluff, etc

plot: the main plot is androids taking over and humans as pets

so mc is obviously gonna be a human, she is like in one of those sort of adoption places but it’s more like a buy your pet thing

and mc is gonna be 18 y/o because yes

- mc and her parents live in a house that is located in a rather secluded area in the woods

- when word gets out about androids dominating humans and turning them into slaves- mc’s parents decide to live underground. mc is 3 y/o during this time. (the father is an artist/architect, this was originally just a project for himself). years pass with them being undetected. (it was 2038 when androids dominated humans)

- 15 years passed without them being detected and mc is 18 y/o (year is 2053)

- mc’s father scavenges for food and such once a month

- underground they still have a tv, tablet, and phones to keep up with how everything is going in detroit

- mc feels trapped after living underground for basically her entire life and learning second hand about androids, the revolution, etc

- mc starts doubting her parents and their reasons. she questions whether if there are bad androids out there who will snatch her up.

- mc asks her father if she can help him scavenge one day but he along with her mother are against that (this is on her birthday when she turns 18 y/o bcus she thinks she’s mature enough to)

- this causes a big argument between her parents and her and she voices her doubts to them- this ends with mc locking herself in her room. after awhile when it’s night time, her father visits her and apologizes for yelling but tells her she still can’t go up there because it’s too dangerous.

- mc hides her anger and lies to her father about her understanding. when it’s about midnight mc decides to sneak out and go above ground.

- mc is wandering in the woods mindlessly basking in everything- she kind of becomes careless (she doesn’t act cautious when wandering around). she maybe follows a bird she sees (owl) out of curiosity and nears markus and his crew (simon, north, and josh). they were having a picnic or just stargazing.

- simon hears rustling and light footsteps coming towards them so he alerts the others, he’s like, ‘do you guys hear that?’

- the others listen and do hear the footsteps and rustling coming rather close and quickly. all of them are tense (because they have experienced a lot of..attacks in the past so obviously they got their bars raised)

- so mc bumps into markus and everyone is surprised by mc’s sudden appearance

- mc stops in her tracks and looks at markus, it takes her a minute to really look at him bcus it’s dark and her human eyes are very poor at catching details

- she recognizes markus and is frozen. she also faintly recognizes his friends because they are also a big part of the android revolution (or so she’s been told by her parents).

- after a beat of silence north says, ‘a human?’ in a rather disgusted tone.

- josh observes you and asks out loud, ‘how can a human be this far out of the city?’

- north: ‘maybe it escaped from it’s owner or something.’

- after observing you, markus reaches out to you (you are still frozen and too scared to move) and places his hand on the nape of your neck. he realizes you don’t have a chip installed there to tell him who your owner is. (let’s say every human at birth has a chip installed to their nape to identify them and their owner)

- markus informs the others that mc doesn’t have a chip which startles them.

- north: ‘wait..it’s a fucking wild?’

- josh: ‘how could it live this long on it’s own if it is a wild?’

- (markus had his eyes on you the whole time) he asks you if there are more of you in the forest and you slowly shake your head no. they all know you are lying though.

- north: ‘there are more like it in the forest..how come we didn’t know about this?’

- josh: ‘this is pretty bad..if there are more wilds out here hiding this could damage the trust we built with the others. everyone will be outraged if they find out we let wilds slip under our noses.’

- simon approaches you slowly and asks again if there are more people like you out there

- when you shake your head again markus holds your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head up so that you can look at him in the eyes.

- with a dark look in his eyes markus says, ‘don’t lie to us again kitten because i’m not in the mood to play nice. now, tell us the truth. are there more of you out there?’

- you are scared now and regret ever leaving the hideout. knowing it would be futile to lie again, you nod. (you are unable to say anything because your throat feels constricted).

- north: ‘where are they?’

- you don’t say anything because you don’t want to give your parents away. you continue to berate yourself for your stupid decisions.

- north sighs (clearly irritated by you not answering their questions immediately), ‘well? aren’t you going to speak? or can you not speak?’

- josh tries to calm north down, ‘intimidating it isn’t going to make it talk’

- north: why are you defending it? have you gone soft now?

- josh: [sighs] are we really going to do this? i’m just trying to tell you that yelling at it won’t get us anywhere-

- north: babying it isn’t getting us anywhere and i don’t see /you/ doing anything.

- simon steps in before the argument could get even more heated and pushes the two away from each other, “that’s enough. can you both not argue for once? now is not the time.”

- a little bit of pressure on your chin directs your attention from the two arguing to markus.

- markus: show us and i promise we won’t hurt you.

- mc thinks about this, ‘deal’ and realizes at that moment she doesn’t know what the hideout even looks like from the outside bcus she was so caught up on other things.

- mc makes a half baked plan to pretend to know where her hide out is, lead them, then find an opening to escape

- mc responds after a bit of pondering, (in a feeble voice), “okay.”

- north: [annoyed and slightly surprised] that’s it? that’s all it took?

- markus lets go of mc’s chin and gives mc a slight nod, telling her to show them the way

- before mc could take any step north butts in

- north: shouldn’t we restrain it first? tie it’s hands so it doesn’t do anything stupid?

- mc really dislikes north and is pretty scared of north out of all of them.

- markus notices your discomfort and shakes his head at north, “no. we don’t need to."

- north: [irritated] but she is a fucking wild- she’s dangerous-

- markus: [interrupts north + raises one of his hands up] i said, we don’t need to.

- north huffs in annoyance but doesn’t say anything else. part of you is satisfied by seeing north being put in her place.

- markus returns his attention to you and silently tells you w his eyes to lead the way.

- you turn your back towards markus and observe the vast amount of trees before you and walk in the direction you remember vaguely running from.

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awakeneddragon · 4 years ago

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List of Kin Experiences

A while back, I decided to compile a list of various experiences that I’ve had that I consider to be at least slightly non-human in nature. I thought I would finally share it here.

The basic layout/template was made by @a-dragons-journal, but the writing is my own.

Phantom Limbs: This is a common thing to experience in the otherkin community, and describes feeling limbs that are not physically there. Though my own experiences with this are quite tame in comparison to others (as some have reported being able to feel when these “limbs” are touched), this is something that I’ve gone through for many years without thinking too much of it.

Feeling myself having claws/talons was a regular occurrence for me. Though I couldn’t “see” their specific appearance, I definitely knew they were there and was able to “move” them. This was an involuntary and consistent thing that happened. I remember being pretty insistent on keeping my nails long due to this, and it always felt wrong when they were clipped.

Feeling a tail was somewhat common as well, as were ears that would flatten or raise themselves depending on my emotions/what was happening around me. My teeth also sometimes felt sharper than they actually are. I don’t experience most of these as much as I used to, but not to the point that they’re rare.

Connection To Dragons: I’ve always had a large fascination with dragons. I'd become really attached to dragon characters in media and overall just connected with them more than other types of characters.

I remember how I would sometimes imagine myself having a dragon form, and one of the imaginary friends I had was also a dragon. When I learned of the existence of roleplaying on the internet, my characters almost always had something to do with them (could transform into one, had a dragon ally, etc.) Whenever a movie, show, game, or whatever else depicted a dragon (no matter their role), my interest was immediately piqued.

I became really interested in learning more about the different types and the many stories that have been written about them. I remember being upset when learning that a lot of the stories were of dragons being portrayed as cruel, selfish, and violent, as that didn't match my perception of them at all. I always saw them as these incredibly intelligent and gentle creatures that only attacked when threatened, or at least believed them to have more of a variety of personalities than what the media displays them to have.

I would also cling onto anything that suggested the possibility of them existing elsewhere, either in the past or in the present. Even as a kid I believed in different dimensions and the possibility of "mythological" creatures existing in ones separate from ours or on separate planets. Anything that connected me specifically to dragons was always a delight as well, such as me learning that I was born in the year of the dragon. Though zodiacs to most people are often seen as dismissible nonsense, it truly meant something to me and admittedly still does.

Connection To Nature/Elements: Though it’s a fairly normal occurrence even for those who are non-otherkin, being out in nature is incredibly calming to me. However, what may set other people’s experiences and mine apart is the sense of familiarity I feel or the urges I experience in certain locations. There have been multiple occasions where I’ve told myself, “I swear I’ve been here or somewhere similar before”, despite the fact that I never actually have.

With weather, nothing calms me more than being outside when it’s cold and windy. It’s a feeling of pure euphoria that I don’t really experience from anything else, and usually succeeds in making me feel like running around on all fours and just generally doing various animalistic things.

In terms of elements, I’ve always felt most connected to ice and wind, though occasionally I’ll feel a connection with water in terms of small bodies of it (rivers, streams, etc.) or storms.

Self-image: Though I often liked to imagine myself as a dragon when I was younger, this habit became much more significant when I acknowledged my draconity and remembered the appearance of my past form. Ever since this discovery, in my day to day life it’s impossible for me to see myself as entirely human. I know that I’m not, and there is no denying that fact for me. Whatever I’m doing; whether that be typing, walking, or eating… It’s become almost instinctual for me to envision my dragon form in the place of my human body. When I look in the mirror, my normal appearance just feels so unnatural in comparison to my kintype.

Non-human Noises: Making noises that are more similar to the sounds an animal would make is something that I’ve been doing for as long as I can remember. It’s my instinctive reaction to a lot of emotions. Snarling, growling, and hissing are all sounds that I commonly make, though on rare occasions I have made low rumbles that could be considered some sort of purr. Making and listening to these sounds is comforting to me. You can hear an example of some of the noises I make in my blog.

Movement/Expression: I don’t think I could even give an accurate number to the amount of times I’ve wanted to walk on all fours. I haven’t attempted to in a long time since I know it won’t be as satisfying as I’d like it to be, but imagining it feels so much more natural than walking on two legs.

Another notable thing for me is how unnatural it sometimes feels to use forks and spoons when eating. It doesn’t really matter what it is; I usually prefer to eat things with my hands. As you can imagine, I’ve always been a bit of a messy eater, though I do at least know now to keep my manners in check.

When experiencing anger, I often feel the urge to bare my teeth and/or dig my nails into whatever they’re in contact with.

In addition to this, I got in the habit of copying the movements of various dragon characters (Toothless, Spyro, Draco, Haku, etc.) They always felt more “right” to me.

Combat Instincts: The few times I’ve had a heated interaction with someone, I often felt the urge to claw them instead of punching them like most other humans would do in a fight. In fact, when I was a very young kid, my first instinct was to scratch people that made me upset/uncomfortable. I’m glad that I've grown out of that habit, but it was another reason that I disliked my nails being short. I saw them as the default/best method to defend myself.

Flight Instincts: Though I’m sure many wish to fly, I’m unsure if it often reaches the intensity of the desires that I often feel. Whether I’m outside or simply seeing an image where the sky is present, my very first instinct is to fly. It’s not simply a want; it’s something that I truly believe I was able to do at some point. I can very vividly imagine and “feel” what it’s like to experience the wind against my “fur” and see the ground far beneath me. This urge usually arrives in my mind before reality sets in and reminds me that flying isn’t possible with this form, and it’s something that gives me a deep level of sadness that is unmatched by almost anything else.

Prey Drive: This is a very rare thing for me, though I figured it was notable enough to include. On a few occasions when watching documentaries, I have been able to easily envision myself in the predators place. At the sight of the prey that it's chasing, I’ll feel the urge to sink my teeth and “claws” into them. Of course, I would never actually go out and harm an animal.

Shifts: In the otherkin community, the act of going through a shift refers to people who are temporarily feeling especially like their kintype in some way. I don’t personally experience a heightened sense of smell or sight like some others, but it is incredibly easy to see myself as my past form and I'll have an increased urge to do many of the things listed above.

Dreams: It’s become a common occurrence for dragons to in some way be involved with my dreams. Most of the time I’ll just simply come across dragons or humans that can turn into them, though occasionally I’ll have the physical appearance of my past form. I unfortunately don’t remember too much of the latter dreams, but I do know that even in the dream world, this made me incredibly happy. It just felt correct, and I remember feeling a strong sadness when waking up.

Memories: I know that the human mind can make fantasies seem incredibly possible and/or real, so I take all of these memories with a grain of salt. However, I have had several experiences that could be considered memories of some sort. Below I’ll list some notable ones.

The very first memory I had depicted my past form in a "hallway" (I don’t know how else to describe it) that was made entirely out of snow and ice. I remember being able to vaguely see my reflection on the floor, and I looked up to see a blinding white light that I'm assuming was the exit before I started to run towards it.

My second memory was myself being in a forest full of leaves on the ground. I was on top of a slope, which I skidded down. I vaguely recall there being a nearby river.

Another memory depicted me in a snowy landscape. It was in the middle of the night and I was flying high in the sky.

I also had another memory at night/late afternoon, but the sky was just bright enough for me to see dark clouds. I was standing in an open field and looking around. It was pretty windy, as well; like it was about to storm. It's a very peaceful memory for me, despite the bad weather.

The most recent one I had yet again has to do with the night, but relied more on feelings and strong urges than sight. I was running in a forest, potentially chasing after/hunting something. It felt very cool and the overall atmosphere of it was very “wintery”.

My first memory is what gave me a basic idea of what I looked like, though it wasn’t until in other memories where my appearance was consistent that I was more confident in myself. Funnily enough, before these memories I actually didn’t think that much of eastern dragons. It wasn’t that I disliked them, but they simply didn’t cross my mind that much due to western dragons being a much more common depiction in media.

Hoarding: This is the stereotype for dragons and something I see many dragonkin discussing, but it’s something I actually don’t relate with too much nowadays. However, when I was a kid, I would collect practically anything I could find around the house or outside. Rocks (that I would often insist were rare even though they clearly weren’t), rubber bands, beads, etc. These are all things that most people would consider worthless, but at the time they were special to me and I kept all of these items in a box that I was quite protective of.

Dens/Small Spaces: I remember when I was a kid, my mother and I built a pillow fort. I would hide and curl up inside it at every opportunity, as it made me feel incredibly content and safe. I have a similar urge whenever I see dens in movies and games. If I’m playing something that has caves, dens, or any other kind of small area, it’s very common for me to stop whatever I’m doing to just relax in these locations for a while.

And that concludes the list. I may update this whenever I recall anything else I find worth mentioning. My journey of being dragonkin has definitely been an interesting one, and I’m glad that I decided to become more involved in the community. Aside from some difficult times, being otherkin has had an overall positive impact on my life. It’s resulted in me meeting new people, feeling a sense of closure with myself that I’ve been lacking for as long as I can remember, and learning new things about dragons and the cultures of various places around the world.

#dragonkin #otherkin #alterhuman

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lord-explosion-baku · 5 years ago

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Yandere Warlock!Monoma x insecure witch!reader

Warnings: dark themes, yandere, suggestive themes, hinted dubcon scenario, light violence

A/N: THIS WAS RUSHED AS HECK. Like when I say that, the story just moves along really fast and I’m hhhh sorry about it. This is the first thing I’ve ever written for Monoma though! Fun stuff! Also ahhhh I’m not loving the way the reader reacts to how Monoma treats her. I’m so used to writing the reader with a hint of ANGERY BASTARD inside but I figured that if she’s insecure, and wack enough to fix a love potion for someone, this might be natural for someone like her?? Idk dood. I love magic and I am a newt.

“Tell me you love me…”

You’d spent so much of your time yearning for Neito Monoma, wondering if he’d ever give you the time of day. It was wild and unexpected of you to crush so hard for someone as arrogant as that warlock; usually types that constantly had to one up everybody irked the living hell out of you, especially since you were too modest by nature, too nervous to ever give yourself any credit when you’d excel, but Monoma paid you a few compliments here and there. He smiled at you during passing periods and even told you he liked the way you cast your spells. You thought that maybe he was this way with all the other witches, even so, he made you feel less obscure, visible to even a stronger caster such as him. You had no idea that he’d reciprocate your feelings, at least, until it was too late.

It was a simple potion, you couldn’t even call it a love potion. Sure, you may have added some reagents that had similar properties one would put in a love potion, but it wasn’t supposed to be for “love.” You just wanted to be more recognized by him. And woof, after you’d slipped that potion into his morning pumpkin juice, you were for sure recognized.

Things started out fine. You had stumbled upon Monoma in the school gardens, a place he rarely studied but it was one of your main haunts. He was sifting through flowers, making an eclectic bouquet full of different varieties of your flora friends. When he’d caught you staring at him, he gave you a bashful smile that nearly melted your heart.

“I was hoping this would be a surprise,” he said, tying a black ribbon around the bouquet that made the various colors of each petal pop out more. He held the bouquet out to to you and when you took it, his long warm fingers lingered of yours. Clear blue eyes scanned your face, lingering on your lips before you brought the bouquet to your nose to take in the sweetened aroma. “The prettiest flowers for the prettiest girl.”

After that, you spent so much more time with Monoma. He seemed pretty normal to you other than how often you caught him staring at you from across the classroom. He’d leave you cute little notes, if you could call them notes; honestly, they were a bit more like sonnets than anything, and he’d bring you nice gifts and pay you sweet compliments. He made you feel special. You had never known that someone who spent most of his time boasting about his power and shutting everyone else down had such a way with words! He was nearly the perfect boyfriend.

Until he started to get a little more creative with his gift giving. You’d find roses left on your pillow when you returned back to your dorm room after a hard day’s work. Warlocks weren’t permitted to enter the witch’s dorms but somehow Monoma figured out a way past certain enchantments. You thought it was cute that he was willing to break some rules for you. After you told him that you were interested in brewing a certain master level potion that required fairies blood, a super rare rageant that not even Aizawa, your potion’s professor, could get his hands on, Monoma came to you with a box full of four vials of fairies blood. That was a bit excessive. The potion only called for a tiny bit.

Monoma grew more violent towards other warlocks in your life as well. He’d hexed your best friend, Hanta Sero, giving him octopus arms after Sero carelessly threw his arm around your shoulders in the main hall, right in front of Monoma and sometime after Kaminari asked you what you saw in your new, probably too invested boyfriend, Kami’s lips were seen sewn shut for about four hours until a professor figured out how to reverse the curse. Kaminari never told you how it happened, but after everyone who was supposed to be your friend started avoiding you, you kinda figured you knew what was going on.

On top of everything else, he was advancing on your hardcore. You enjoyed the attention, in fact, you craved it, but you weren’t ready to go all the way with him and he was beginning to get really pushy. When you didn’t do whatever he wanted, he’d get frustrated, accusatory, he’d make you feel guilty about things you never did! Claiming that you weren’t faithful to him seemed like his favorite thing to do and the only way to get him to stop was for him to use a strange truth spell on you, one that you were always afraid would work so you’d tell him about the potion you slipped him, though the questions he asked never lead to that. Once he was satisfied with your answers, he’d litter your neck and body in hickeys, little bruising love marks to make sure that if you weren’t committed enough, everyone else knew that you belonged to him.

So you knew you had to confront him.

Walking up the steps of the astronomy tower, your shared secret spot with Monoma, the place you’d use to make out amongst other things without being caught by any school faculty, you gripped the note you’d written out for Monoma tightly in your trembling hands, trying to steady your breath. You knew what you’d done and you had to admit to Monoma that you were responsible for how he was acting. Aizawa always said that you shouldn’t mess around with love when it came to magic. You didn’t think you were when you’d made that potion, but deep down, you knew what you were going for. This was your stupid mistake and you had to right your wrongs. You shoved the note in your pocket and opened the astronomy room door.

Monoma was already there, standing by the extravagant telescope, tapping his foot impatiently. “You’re late,” he said, hands latching onto your hips immediately. “I was beginning to think that I was going to have to fetch you.”

Instantly, he yanked you close so your body pressed flush up against his, and he turned so your back was against the wall. His body felt… warmer than usual.

“I missed you,” he murmured, nuzzling into your neck. Almost instantly his tongue slid out and he licked a strip up your neck to your ear, making you shudder against him. “Don’t make me wait for you again, angel. I can’t stand not seeing you.”

He squeezed your hips before trailing a hand up to the edge of your shirt, thumb gently caressing the skin underneath. “How are you?” He asked, playfulling toying with the elasticity of your skirt.

“Um- I’m okay,” you stammered, catching his hand in yours that only made him smirk as he brought the back of your wrist to his lips.

“Just okay?” He lifted a brow, brushing his lips across your skin. “Better now that I’m here?” He closed his eyes and breathed you in. “Oh!...” you took in another long whiff. “You got a new perfume…”

He brought your arms to hang around his neck, keeping your gaze locked into his. You wondered if he could tell just how guilty you were just by looking at you. “Did my sweet girl have a bad day?”

“I’ve just been… a little stressed, is all.”

“Mmmm, I can tell,” he mused, “lucky for you, I know the perfect way of relieving tension.”

You bit your lip, dreading the blood that undoubtedly rushed to your face. Even if Monoma wasn’t all there, he still made your heart jump, especially when he got himself riled up.

“Sound nice?” He smirked, leaning closer back to your face. “I’ll be gentle. You know I only want to take care of you, right?”

“Neito,” you began, turning your head away from his cool, mint scented breath. “N-not right now…”

He scoffed. It was too easy to aggravate him and pissing him off was a dangerous game to play. He never… forced you to do anything you didn’t want to, but he was not above throwing fits. “Then why don’t you tell me what’s going on with you? Honestly Y/N, you’ve been acting strange for weeks, and if you don’t want me to show you just how much I love you, then you might as well come out and tell me who you’ve been fucking already.”

“Neito!” You shot him an incredulous look. “I haven’t been sleeping with anybody! You know I’m a-!”

“Who is it? You can tell me,” he cut over you, not bothering to hear you out. “You know I’ll always forgive you, but I want to know what filth has been tarnishing what’s mine.”

“Nobody, Neito! I’ve never had sex!”

“Was it Todoroki? I saw him talking to you after your Charms class.”

“He was lending me notes! I missed classes because I was with you!” Jesus, you hadn’t even seen Monoma after you had charms, he was like some kind of obsessive ninja.

“It better not have been that trash, Katsuki Bakugou! He’s been eyeing you since the moment he saw that you were with me. I bet he can’t stand seeing me have something that he doesn’t!”

“You’re not listening to me!” You cried, moving your hands from his back to gently cup his face. You watched as his eyes went from feral and angry to soft and loving as you drew your thumbs across his lips, trying to ease him back to his senses. “Neito, nobody’s been talking to me… even if they were, I’d let them know there’s only one guy for me. I… really liked you, Neito. I liked you enough that I did something very wrong and it has hurt you and for that, I’m sorry. ”

“Hurt me?” He didn’t understand.

“I spiked your drink with a love potion. I thought it would just make you notice me, but now everything is wrong!”

The pregnant pause between you and Monoma was nearly deafening. He lifted his hand to neatly place over yours, his body hot. His eyes searched yours, seeming to register what you were saying. But his eyes lied.

“Liked?” His hands tightened over yours. “As in past tense?”

“That’s not the point and not really what I meant-!”

“Oh, darling, don’t be cute with me right now. I’m thinking!”

You only realized how hard you were shaking when he pulled away from you to let you breathe. Monoma ran his fingers through his hair, messing up its usually neat style. He let out an exaggerated sigh and began to pace. You brought the note out of your pocket. If he couldn’t understand your words, maybe it’d make more sense to him if he’d read them?

You reached out for his shoulders, he tensed at your tender touch for a moment before relaxing against you. You hugged him from behind, burying your face into his back and held the note out in front of him. “Please read it,” you asked, muffled by his blazer.

Gingerly, he took the note out of your hand. He read it over; it basically said all that you had done, when you did it, and why you did it. You noticed his back growing damp and you only realize that you were crying when he turned to face you, with an unreadable expression.

Monoma’s thumb found your cheek and he wiped away an escapee tear you hadn’t intended to let him see. He sighed and watched your lips part, a natural, possible submissive instinct you’d picked up since you started dating the warlock. “I love you, Y/N,” he muttered, trailing his warm, now shaking fingers down to your chin. “I love you so much, it hurts.”

“I-I know.” You forced yourself to speak even though your skin was nearly vibrating from anxiety. “And-“ you gulped “-It’s all my fault. But I’m going to fix this, Neito. You won’t have to hurt… anymore.”

Monoma’s hand found your neck, his touch tentative and gentle at first until his fingers wrapped around you and he started to squeeze.

“You know?” He demanded, his face inching closer towards yours. “If you know how much pain I’m going through, then why the hell are you trying to push me away? Why don’t you ever say you love me back? Why is my angel lying to me?!”

“I’m not,” you squeaked back, pulling on his arm but that only encouraged him to back you up against the wall again.

“I’m going to make you tell me who’s making you say these things to me and then I’m going to have you watch as I strap them to a chair and set them on fire!”

“N-no, Neito,” you choked out as he began to raise you against the wall. The corner of your eyes started to blacken as you stared into the raging blue irises of the crazed blonde.

“I’ve done so much for you, Y/N, and I’ve asked so little in return!” He scoffed at the pathetic, reddened face you were making. You didn’t think you could hold on much longer. “Tell me who it is, Y/N. Tell me who it is or I swear I’ll kill every last warlock, hell, every last caster in this whole goddamn school!”

“Aizawa!” You cried out, noting the shifting black figure across the tower windows.

Monoma blinked, registering who you had named. He was silent for a moment, not noticing the older warlock muttering an incantation behind him.

“Filthy slut,” Monoma finally seethed. “You like older men, then? I bet he gets a kick out of that, taking advantage of something so pure-“ he dropped you to the floor “-so fragile.”

Tears were streaming down your face. You couldn’t manage to look at him and didn’t dare look at Aizawa while he was preparing a spell without Monoma noticing.

“I bet you call him daddy before he makes you choke on his cock, huh?” Monoma grabbed a fistful of your hair, forcing you to look up at him. “Once I rid the world of him, I’ll make you do everything you've done to him to me. I’ll be your daddy then, and you’ll be my dirty. little. princess.” He laughed dryly, yanking your head closer to his crotch. “But why wait until then when I have my pretty angel on her knees all ready for me?”

“That won’t be happening.” Aizawa’s low voice sounded across the room. Before Monoma could even turn, Aizawa muttered something in Latin and your boyfriend’s arms were magically bound together and he fell to his knees beside you.

You grabbed Monoma before he could topple over onto the floor, hugging him tightly, whispering ‘I’m sorry’s’ over and over again. Monoma looked at you incredulously before thrashing around in your embrace as Aizawa approached the two of you.

“Obsessive and violent behavior, attempted assault on a student,” Aizawa sighed. “This is exactly why you don’t screw around with love magic, little witch.”

You wiped at your wet face, looking up to your teacher. “You knew?”

“Of course I did.”

“Then why,” you sniffed, looking apologetically bac to Monoma leering next to you, “why didn’t you do something sooner?”

“We have to from our mistakes by facing the consequences,” he said as if your situation were so simple. A potion vial appeared in his hand. “Now it's time to take care of your mistake. Step back.”

You looked to Monoma who had his lip curled up at your teacher. His eyes flicked to you. “Don’t you dare.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered before scooching away from the writhing warlock.

“Stay away from me!” Monoma snarled at Aizawa as he got a bit closer.

“You need to drink this,” Aizawa said to him, “it’s going to cure you of your ailments.”

“Lying pig!” Monoma all but screeched at your teacher. It burned you to see him this way. This was all your fault, all your fault. “You just want her for yourself!”

Monoma’s eyes once again found yours as he pleaded, “angel don’t do this to me. You love me right? I love you… tell me you love me baby, just this once— KEEP YOUR HOBO HANDS OFF OF ME!”

Monoma kicked his legs up, nearly knocking the vial out of Aizawa’s hands. Your teacher sighed, “at this rate, it might be better to just knock him out.”

“I dare you to try,” the blonde growled.

“Neito, please,” you silently begged, “this is only going to help you.”

Monoma answered you with feral noises, he was practical foaming at the mouth, being over dramatic and kicking himself away from his threat, even while Aizawa backed off and waited for your go ahead.

“If you do this for me-“ you inhaled, heart beating rapidly against your chest “-I’ll do anything and everything you want.” Though, you were sure that after this, Monoma would want nothing to do with you. “I promise you, Neito, anything.”

Monoma scowled at you. “You promise?” He asked. “Anything?”

Another tear fell to your cheek. You nodded.

He finally let up. He stopped his squirming and Aizawa could finally get close to him. Monoma didn’t fail to warn Aizawa that he was going to “be the end of him,” before Aizawa popped the vial into his mouth, and Monoma drained it dry, all while keeping his glare on you.

Minutes passed. You stayed on the floor, allowing silent tears to roll off your face while Aizawa stood cross armed, watching the motionless Monoma intently. Finally, Monoma groaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

“How are you feeling?” Inquired Aizawa.

“I…” Monoma winced. “My head feels like it’s splitting in half…”

“That’s to be expected.”

Guilt hung on your shoulders. Still, you managed to reach out to Monoma’s legs. His eyes opened, he looked right at you, then down to the floor, crossing his legs closer in to himself.

“You should probably go,” Aizawa said to you.

You never wanted this. You never wanted Monoma to be hurt, never wanted him to be obsessive or possessive, never wanted to feel how did you now. You just wanted him to recognize you so you did something vile to him and now you had to live with your guilt and your shame. Now you had to live with Monoma hating you. And you carried your guilt all the way home, using it to cry yourself to sleep.

You didn’t go to school the next day. You would have to face your problems sooner or later but after the night you had, you couldn’t face Monoma or Aizawa or anybody else who would without a doubt know about the heinous act you pulled.

You went into town, trying your hardest to forget about who you were, but whenever you saw a couple holding hands or simply exchanging glances, your heart stung. You managed to split Monoma’s head in half while you simultaneously ripped your heart to shreds. It was what you deserved.

Your legs felt heavy as you crawled into bed. You hardly had enough energy to kick your sheets over your body. You thought you just about drained yourself of all of your tears, but when your head hit the pillow, they came rushing back to you. You could only hide for so long. You were going to have to go to school tomorrow.

Sleep crept its way into your bedroom all the while another force snuck its way in. You were busy having a dream of being forced into a cauldron, when a heavy weight was pushed onto your torso. Your eyes snapped open and you found yourself face to face with Neito Monoma.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, a sickly sweet smile crawling across his face. “You were so still, so… perfect… Did you know you talk when you sleep?”

“Monom-!” Before you could get his full name out, Monoma’s lips locked into yours. He moaned as he kissed you, fingers wrapping around your wrists and bringing them up above your head. He took your breath away, but it wasn’t all that uninvited. You had missed him.

He pulled away, sighing as he took in your flustered physique. His body pressed down harder on you and you were finding your breathing to be a bit strained. He was crushing you.

“I waited for you today,” he mused, peppering kisses down your collarbone. “It seems I’m always waiting for you…”

“What… are you doing here?”

“I’m hurt you even have to ask,” he chuckled sarcastically. “Don’t you remember the promise you made me before making me drink that poison?”

You promised him you’d do anything he wanted. “But the potion was supposed to change you back…”

“It didn’t work,” he said thoughtlessly while his hand slid down to palm you breast.

“W-wait!” You grasped his hand but his merely pushed your arm back down, pulling his knees up to hold your sides tightly.

He glowered down at you. “What I mean to say is, the first potion you slipped me didn’t work.” He smirked. “Do you think that I’m so much of a fool that I couldn’t tell that a drink of mine had been spiked? I was insulted at first, of course, but your actions did give me incentive to pursue you. I’ve always had these feelings for my little angel, and soon, you will too.”

In one swift motion, Monoma held both of your hands back with one of his, while the other pressed glass against your lips. Cold liquid was forced down your throat. Panicking, you swallowed, making Monoma grin and coo, “good girl.”

You coughed when he pulled the vial away from you. He hushed you and kissed your forehead. “Things will be better this way,” he whispered as your body began to shake. “You’ll see me just as I see you. We just have to wait a few minutes.”

Your head spun and it felt like your body was sinking into your bed. Your mind was clouding over and there was nothing you could do about Monoma’s wet, hot, hungry kisses across your body. But in a matter of minutes, just like he said, it wasn’t of any negative concern. Your head, along with your heart, was changing.

“Neito,” you sighed his name and leaned up against your bed.

Monoma placed a tender kiss on your stomach before looking up at you with the most dazzling and brilliant blue eyes. You lifted your hand out to him and he wove his fingers through yours.

“Is my angel ready to make good on her promise?” He asked. You nodded and he grinned, crawling up your bed to level his head with yours. “Then let’s start with one simple request,” he said before brushing his lips against yours.

“Tell me you love me.”

TAGS FOR EVERYTHING (NOT SPICY): @ayeputita @yandere-inamorata @dee-madwriter @unboundbnha @rizamendoza808, @rubycubix @smbody-stole-mycar-radio @zellllyyyy @sarcastictextstuck @kpanime @captain-sin-allmight-queen @psionicsnow @wickedlewicked @ghost-of-todoroki @kattariapenn @im-an-adult-sometimes @bnhya @local-senpai @eggpienutbuttercroissant @usernamekate94 @reyvenclaww @hi-ho-and-hello @rubyred-imagines

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ikeromantic · 4 years ago

Text

A Kasugayama Christmas Carol

I think this is what happens when you’re playing ikesen on your phone and watching A Christmas Carol. I have no other excuse. This bit of holiday fluff is 3700 words (yes. omg)

Starring:

Kenshin Uesugi as The Scrooge

MC as ‘the assistant’ or Cratchit

Shingen Takeda as Tiny ‘Tim’

Yukimura Saneda as Nephew ‘Fred’

and Sasuke as all Ghosts

Kenshin did not like celebrations. They were a waste of time. Efforts could be better spent on war: preparing for war, training for battle, making swords and armor, building walls . . . And yet, every year in the dead of winter his assistant always wanted to celebrate. “It’s a holiday,” she would whine and ask for time off. Try to decorate. Make fancy food. What a waste.

This year, he decided it was enough. This year, no one would have a good time. Scrooge them, he thought. So he was ready when the girl from the future waltzed into his office, hands full of ribbons and origami stars.

“You will get those out of my sight,” Kenshin ordered. His mismatched eyes were small and cold, and very cruel.

His assistant winced. “But Kenshin - can’t we have just a little celebration? I’ll even bring you some pickled plums and special sake.”

She was good, he thought. Tempting him like this. “That sounds - wait, no! You get back to your desk and work on those intelligence reports. I want to know who we’re fighting in the spring. How many warriors I’ll need to muster. How many swords . . .” Just thinking about the coming battles made him feel a little better.

It didn’t seem to make the girl any happier, but Kenshin didn’t feel at all responsible for her joy. She could cheer up and do her work, or do her work with a frown.

Her head dropped, the smile falling from her face. The expression of pure disappointment almost made Kenshin change his mind - afterall, would it hurt so much to have a bit of cheer in the castle? But no. He was a man that never lost a battle. Not even a battle of wills.

It was well after dark when the girl stuck her head into his office again. “K-Kenshin? Sir?”

He looked up from his battle diagrams. “Yes?”

“C-could I go home now? It’s a holiday and - and my friends are waiting for me. I was supposed to get off work two hours ago but I was trying to finish everything first. I-It’s just too much for one day. Sir.” The words tumbled out of her mouth in a flood.

“You can leave when you’re done.” Kenshin bent back down over his own work, annoyed at the disruption.

He heard the girl slide the ricepane panel shut, her tread slow as she returned to her desk. “I pay her too much,” he muttered. “Such defiance. Deserves nothing.” But as he thought it, he remembered he didn’t actually pay her at all. She’d been a chatelaine for his enemies - he captured her, brought her back and, well, she had to have something to keep her busy. So all in all, hiring her was a pretty good investment.

Midnight neared and it was only then that the girl wearily stood, stretched her arms and back, and then trudged toward Kenshin’s office. This time she didn’t even open the door. “I finished,” she told him. Her voice was low and weary. Exhausted.

“Then I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow to start on the next batch!”

“Lord Kenshin . . . please . . . could I have tomorrow off to spend with my friends? I - I mentioned it’s a holiday?” Her pleading took on a desperate note.

“I suppose you’ll be spending it with those other poor fools. Tiny Shingen and my nephew Yuki. Wasting a whole day to make merry!”

She squeaked something that sounded like a yes.

Kenshin frowned. This wasn’t what he liked hearing. Normally, her voice was sweet. He liked to hear it call out to him through the day, masking irritants like chirping crickets or squawking birds. She knew his tastes very well . . . “Gah, fine! Take the day off! But it’s coming out of your salary.”

“My Lord, you don’t pay me. So . . . I guess I’ll see you the day after tomorrow?”

“I said so, didn’t I?” He tapped his fingers on the desk in annoyance. He’d like to give her one last, good glare before she took off but the door was shut.

“Th-thank you, my lord! Have a h-happy holiday!” Her rapid footsteps, almost skipping across the boards gave the lie to her earlier exhaustion.

“I should work her harder,” Kenshin muttered. “Then she wouldn’t have time to make friends besides me. I mean - that she would miss because she’s busy working. I don’t have friends.”

The lonely warlord eventually put his own work away and settled down for a nightcap. Warm sake and some pickled plums. Then he went to his room, dressed for bed, and lay down. Usually, he’d fall asleep as soon as his head met the mat, but tonight he just couldn’t seem to get settled.

Wind made the branches outside creak, and the window panes rattled. Eventually though, his eyes drifted shut. Welcoming darkness. Dreams he would not remember come morning. Or so he thought.

Ghost of Sasuke

No sooner had Kenshin began to drift into dreamland than he was woken by the clanking of heavy chains and a grumbly voice.

“Keeeenshiiiiiiin,” the disembodied voice groaned. And the clanking grew louder and closer.

The warlord’s eyes went wide and he stood, grabbing his beloved sword Himetsuru Ichimonji. “Who’s there,” he shouted, swinging the blade in a wide arc.

“It’s me. Sasuke. Don’t you remember me, Kenshin?”

And then in the darkness, a face materialized. Glasses, fluffy brown hair, and a pale green neck scarf.

“What’s wrong with you? Why do you look so pale? And your skin . . .” Sasuke’s skin gave off a pale glow. Kenshin pointed the tip of his sword at the ninja.

“I died, Kenshin! Because of youuuuuuuu . . .” The Sasuke-ghost wailed, and his hands shot out of the darkness to grab at Kenshin’s nightrobe.

The warlord scrambled back, away from the spirit. “No! That’s not possible. I think I’d remember if you died.”

“Your training . . . killed me,” the Sasuke-ghost whispered.

Kenshin shook his head. He had trained Sasuke hard - hard enough to turn him into one of the best ninja in a generation. But he hadn’t killed him. Had he?

The ghost came closer, chains clanking. “Now, because of you, I am bound for eternity to suffer. Because I went along with all your violent schemes. I enjoyed war too . . . and now I will pay for it. Forever!”

“I don’t believe a word,” Kenshin growled. “You’re not really here. This is just a bit of undigested plum. An upset stomach from a bad batch of sake. Spirits aren’t real. And my ninja isn’t dead!”

“It doesn’t matter if you believe me or not.” The spirit drew back into the darkness, disappearing from sight. “I only came to warn you, Kenshin. Tonight, you will be visited by three ghosts. The completely original and definitely not trademarked Ghost of Holidays Past, Present, and Future. You must listen to them. Or else.”

Kenshin laughed coldly. “I am not afraid of you, spirit. Or these . . . not . . . trademarked . . . ghosts. Let them come!”

There was no answer.

The warlord waited, crouched and tense. Nothing else happened. Tired and even more annoyed, he went back to bed. “Have to stop eating pickled plums so late at night,” he murmured. Then rolled over and tried to get back to sleep.

Ghost of Holidays Past

His eyes barely shut when a strange laugh startled him awake again.

“Ho ho ho,” the laughter boomed, and a finger tapped Kenshin on the shoulder.

The warlord leapt up and started to reach for his sword, but the absurd sight in front of him stopped him in his tracks. A face that seemed old and young all at once, with a beam of light pointed up from its head. He thought for a moment that it was Sasuke again - the thing had glasses on, just like the ninja, but this spirit wore a strange gown and wide, dangerous smile.

“Who - what are you?” Kenshin inched away from the thing, beginning to feel a bit nervous.

“Didn’t I - I mean, Sasuke, warn you I was coming? I am the Ghost of Holidays Past, Kenshin. And I have come to show you things you’ve forgotten.”

The warlord got to his feet. “I haven’t forgotten anything. So you can leave. I am tired and I want to go to bed now.”

“Oh, I think not Uesugi. You are coming with me.” And the spirit grabbed his hand. The thing’s skin was cold and clammy, like holding to a fish. It led Kenshin out of his room and into a bright-lit hallway. There, people were wasting time and making merry. There were bunnies with colorful ribbons on their necks, and a girl . . .

Kenshin gasped. For a moment she looked like his assistant - the Oda captive and timetraveler. But then he realized it was Isehime. And the boy beside her - was him? It was hard to tell. The face was young and he couldn’t make out the eyes but . . . the boy was wearing his clothes and playing with Isehime and the rabbits. They were laughing together.

“Do you remember now? The joyful times you had before?”

Kenshin blinked. He absolutely was not crying. It was just dust and the bright light. Yes. He scrubbed a hand over his face and turned to the spirit. “I don’t want to see this anymore. I’m going to bed.”

The Sasuke-similar Ghost of Holidays Past nodded. “I can’t force you to watch. But I think perhaps I’ve jogged a memory loose.” He let go of the warlord’s hand.

Kenshin stumbled back to his room and slid the door shut. What an awful vision that had been! His memories of Isehime came rushing back - all of the good times they had before cruelty and politics ended their youth. Had it been worth it to waste all that time in fun? He shook his head. No. No. That was for children too foolish to know better.

“Enough, spirits,” he growled as he got back into his futon. “I don’t want you showing me anything else.”

Ghost of Holidays Present

Kenshin’s order barely left his lips before another spirit arrived. Just like the last one, it wore glasses too. But this one had a big, bushy beard and a round belly.

“Ho ho ho! I am the Ghost of Holidays Present, here to show you what you’re missing!” The spirit stopped speaking for a moment to adjust his beard. It was slipping sideways as he spoke. “We have a journey tonight, Uesugi. Now come on!” The ghost leapt onto the window sill and held his hand out.

“This is foolish,” Kenshin grumbled. But he stood up and took the spirit’s hand anyway. “You aren’t going to show me anymore visions of . . . her - of Isehime - are you?”

“No. That was past. This is present. You see, the time-differential really isn’t that complex when you take into account the potential for flexion in dimensional space as relates to - ah - I mean, ho ho ho! Let’s uh, go!” The ghost grabbed the offered hand and pulled Kenshin out the window.

“Are you sure you aren’t my ninja?” Kenshin asked, eyeing the spirit as it led him through Kasugayama.

“Who me? No! I’m just your friendly neighborhood ghost.” He poked his round belly. “Your ninja isn’t fat like I am right?” He *carefully* tugged his beard. “And he doesn’t have a beard, right?”

“That is true,” Kenshin agreed. “Just when you were talking. It sounded like the nonsense he says sometimes.

“It’s not nonsense,” the ghost began, but stopped to point. Ahead, there was an open window. Warm lantern-light spilled out onto the snowy ground. Inside, Kenshin could see his assistant. Only . . . she was beautiful. Her hair was down and she was smiling so brightly it made his heart clench in his chest.

“What - what is this? What are you showing me, spirit?”

“Kenshin, this is the holiday-that-is. Watch.” The ghost let go of his hand.

A figure came up behind the girl, a large man with light brown hair and grey eyes. Kenshin remembered him - a former warrior everyone called Tiny Shingen - a joke, as he was not at all small. He was smiling too. Kenshin’s assistant turned around to look at him and Shingen lifted her up, starting to spin her around. But he stopped, pain twisting his smile into a pained grimace. He began to cough and grabbed at his chest.

“Oh, Shingen. I’m so sorry. If only I had more . . . firewood, yes, firewood to ah, to keep our little home warm. Then you wouldn’t cough so!” She went to a small stove and picked up a kettle to pour Tiny Shingen a cup of tea.

Another man entered the room - one Kenshin knew all to well. His always cheerful nephew Yuki. He was Kenshin’s last living relative, but honestly, the warlord couldn’t stand him. He was always giving away things and being . . . kind. Not the type of behaviour a war-focused warrior ought to be engaging in. Seeing him here made Kenshin think the boy had too much free time on his hands. He ought to make him train more. Maybe send him out scouting . . .

The girl gave Yuki a hug and he squeezed her tight. The sight sent a dangerous current through Kenshin. No one ought to be touching her like that. So intimately. She was his captive! His assistant! But . . . she looked so pleased. Had she ever smiled at Kenshin that way?

The three of them huddled around the small stove for warmth. But they all looked so happy. Chatting and laughing. As if even this meager life was worth living.

Kenshin couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed from joy or pleasure. Or hugged. He wondered if he still knew how. He tried out a ‘happy’ laugh. It sounded like a dry cough. Worse than Tiny Shingen.

“Um, what was that?” The ghost gave him a side-eyed glance.

“Nothing.”

“Ah, right then. I think that’s enough. Let’s go back to your room.” The spirit turned to go.

Kenshin grabbed his sleeve. “Wait! Tell me, spirit. Is this really happening? Or is it just a vision, like what I saw from my past?”

The ghost nodded. “It is really happening. Right now. These people are celebrating and joyful, just to be together. Even though you’ve denied them so much . . .”

Kenshin nodded slowly. Perhaps . . . war wasn’t the only thing. He could try to relax. Just on holidays. Maybe pay his assistant. Or. Give her a hug. He smiled at the thought. It might even be pleasant.

When he got to his window, he stopped and asked the ghost. “Is there one more of these visits tonight? I - I think I’d like to see more of my assistant.” He wasn’t sure why he felt hesitant to ask, but these sights stirred something uncomfortable in him.

“There will be one more visit, Kenshin Uesugi. One more spirit. The Ghost of Holidays Future.” And then in a sudden poof of smoke, the Ghost of Holidays Present was gone.

Kenshin climbed back into his room through the window and sat down on his futon to wait. He was almost excited.

Ghost of Holidays Yet To Come

Kenshin did not have long to wait. There was a rustling outside his window. When he turned his head to look, all he could see was darkness.

“Come, Kenshin Uesugi. I have things to show you.” The voice came out of the darkness, echoing and cold. Nothing like the previous ghosts of the night.

Still, Kenshin really wanted to see more of his assistant. What she would be doing the next year, for example. Perhaps this ghost could show him a future where Kenshin and the girl played with ribboned rabbits and hugged each other.

He stepped out into the darkness. In it, he could just make out a form. Heavy robes covered the body, and over the face, a mask. Horned, with bulging eyes and sharp fangs. Like a shinigami, he thought. But he was Kenshin, God of War. Demons did not scare him.

The ghost said nothing, only turned and began to walk.

“Should I follow? Where are we going?” Kenshin hurried after the spirit.

There was no reply. But soon, it became apparent where they were headed. Out of the darkness, a crowd of stone monuments and the gentle slopes of ancient kofun.

Kenshin stopped. “Wait, spirit. Why are we going to visit graves? Aren’t you supposed to show me holidays?”

The ghost turned and from the depths of its sleeves rose a bony hand, fingers curled in a universal come-hither gesture.

Feeling unnerved, and wishing he’d brought his sword, Kenshin continued on. Into the dark graveyard. The figure stopped before a fresh dug grave, the marker laying on it’s side nearby.

The ghost took a lantern from its vest and lit it with a flick of its fingers. In that dim, flickering light, the warlord could just make out the characters carved into stone. Uesugi Kenshin.

“What? No! I am the undefeated God of War. Nothing can kill me. I should know. I’ve tried.” He put a hand to his mouth surprised by the honesty this spirit coaxed from him. He looked up at it. “What - what is it that kills me? Poison? An assassin? Sickness?”

“Bitterness,” rasped the cold voice. And it gestured to several fresh graves nearby. On them, Kenshin could make out the names of his assistant, and her friends. His nephew Yuki. Tiny Shingen. And Sasuke.

“Then. This is all my fault?” He knew he’d caused countless deaths on his many campaigns. Soldiers that came to his banner, and numberless enemies. But this was different. If the spirit was right, they would die because of the flaw in his soul - not from some hostile force.

He swallowed, feeling again the hot sting of unshed tears. “Why do you show me this? Do you think I can change? I have reasons! I have lost . . . so much. If I open my heart again, then what?”

The spirit gestured with a bony finger back toward Kasugayama. There, silhouetted against the city’s lanterns, the form of a girl. His lovely assistant. Could things be different between them? Could he learn to be more than her captor and taskmaster? Kenshin wasn’t sure, but he decided in that moment to try. He was, afterall, the undefeated God of War. It would be ironic if he was his own undoing.

“I think I understand,” he said wearily. “I want to change. I do. I don’t know how but . . . I will try.”

“And you will have help,” the ghost said quietly, in a voice so like Sasuke that it made Kenshin look twice. It laid a hand on the warlord’s shoulder. “Now go home and sleep. Dawn comes.”

Kenshin obeyed. He felt bone-tired, his chest hollow with regret.

Holiday Epilogue

The morning dawned bright and early. Kenshin woke to the song of birds, and the bustle of the castle. He felt energized. Purposeful. He got up and put on his best clothes, then began summoning servants. There were so many things to get done! Food, wine, music - and decorations! Yes!

His vassals clearly thought he’d lost his mind, but they knew better than to disobey. His years of harshness served him well in organizing a feast - and not just for his vassals. For the whole town. He wanted everyone to celebrate with him- on this new day, where anything could happen.

When the people gathered and began filling their plates, a gentle sweet voice spoke up behind him.

“Kenshin. Did you really set all this up?”

The warlord turned, and there she stood. The captured Oda princess, his assistant - no, if he was honest, his slave. But no more. He knelt and took her hand. “I am so sorry for all I have put you through. Today - today is the first step in making it up to you.” He turned his mismatched eyes from her hand up to her gaze. She was wide-eyed, cheeks pink. “Can you forgive me,” he asked.

“I already did,” she smiled. And there it was. That brilliant warmth that made his heart pound.

“You are too good for this world,” he sighed. “I want you to know - if you want to leave, you can. But if you stay . . . if you stay, I’d like to treat you like a princess. An Uesugi princess.”

She pursed her lips, thinking. “I don’t want to go. I have friends here now. But, what about them? Tiny Shingen needs medical care. And Yuki - he needs etiquette lessons and some time in a hot bath -”

“What did you say, boar woman?” Yukimura shouted at them from across the courtyard, where the feast was laid out.

Kenshin stood. “Nephew! Come here! I want to apologize.”

“No thanks! I uh, already forgive you too! But I prefer to stay out of stabby range.” Yuki chuckled as he said it, but he didn’t get any closer.

The girl smiled and squeezed Kenshin’s hand. “It will take time to show him you changed.”

The warlord nodded. “I suppose it will. But in the meantime - I will have the best doctors look after Shingen. Is that . . . alright?”

“I’m sure Shingen will appreciate that,” she replied.

“Is that a goddess with my name on her lips,” asked Shingen as he stepped out into the courtyard.

Kenshin felt a spike of jealousy, but he took a breath and smiled. “Please don’t flirt with my assistant. Just . . . go get some sweets and wait for the doctors to arrive.”

Shingen’s smile was wide. “I haven’t even started to flirt, Kenny. But alright. I am feeling peckish. I’ll be back later to see how my angel fares.”

Sasuke flipped down from a nearby roof to land in a one-knee crouch, superhero style right in front of his lord. “I might have a better idea for Shingen’s care my lord. If I can offer.”

“I thought you were dead. I saw your ghost.” Kenshin reached out and grabbed Sasuke’s cheek, pinching it. “You feel real enough though.”

For some reason, Shingen and the girl were laughing. Yuki was too, from his spot across the yard.

“I assure you - I am very muth alive. Pleath let go of my cheek.”

Kenshin released his ninja. “So you are. You can tell me all about this idea later. Today, we celebrate. It is . . . a holiday.” And he smiled down at his assistant, who still held one of his hands.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikesen kenshin #ikesen shingen #ikesen sasuke #ikesen yukimura #ikesen kasugayama #a christmas carol #otome guys #otome #fluff #christmas #holidays #i'm sorry #fanfiction #fanfic

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tundrainafrica · 4 years ago

Note

1) about the social class headcanon that you write, that’s actually makes sense, but isn’t exactly what i meant. According to Isayama, Hange when she was young looked very much like Eren in the way of acting (even more with the titans), and (this part I am not sure if it is true) she lost her family at the fall of the maria wall. Eren looked like a rebellious teenager angry at everything, and recently I found out that depression in teenagers and children tends to manifest itself that way

2) (anger and rebellion), well, we know Eren was depressed (it only got worse with time) but what about Hange? seems to me she learned to hide her feelings so it wouldn't be between her and her job. We don't know her past, she probably didn't grow up in a violent place like Levi but it doesn't mean that her life was all joy and happiness you know..

--------------------------------------------- MY ANSWER --------------------------------------

Hello Anon,

Thank you again for your ask! Woops, sorry if I didn’t answer your questions. I answered those two asks in a row so I ended up just building off of the last one.

I don’t think it was ever confirmed if Hange lost her family at the fall of Wall Maria. I did some research and couldn’t find stuff on my end. If you could send me some on that, I’d love to read it.

I am aware at least that no one’s life is all joy or happiness. I think there is a difference though with growing up without ever having to consider your next meal and living in abject poverty.

There are people who have had time to be a child and there are people who haven’t. So I think to a degree, Hange had more of a childhood than Levi. And a normal childhood is incredibly important for every single child. The early years are crucial because that’s where children build wonder, curiosity. That’s one of the psychological reasons behind children’s books. They make everything so fantastical to heighten the senses of the children. Because in fact, children only get full control of their senses later in life. Before they are even able to make sense of everything, everything is just a huge bubble or conglomeration of senses. That’s why children are so perceptive, imaginative and quick to learn things like languages. Their view of the world isn’t set yet by the rules and norms of the society they live in.

That’s why asking children questions and exposing them to so many different things at a young age and providing for them is important. Children need to see the wonder of the world while not having to consider their next meal, their danger. A childhood is generally where curiosity and imaginative thinking is most easily built.

And that’s why I say, that Hange somehow is a lot more curious, sees a lot more wonder than Levi. Similar to Erwin, he had a pretty comfortable existence, he went to a good school, he had a father who engaged him and that’s why Erwin was able to think beyond what was within the walls. Same for both Eren and Armin. Eren had his father who probably fed him some info and Armin had his parents books and his parents who were curious enough to build that hot air balloon

And, I know about that scene in the manga that explained that it was the lightness of the titan head that got Hange curious about titans. I think kicking the titan head was a good catalyst for titan research but I suspect that even before that, Hange was curious about the outside world. Hange’s interest extends beyond titans for sure because it was confirmed by Isayama already that Hange would have been studying botany outside the walls if it wasn’t for the titans. Also, the way Hange is handling the new world where she’s constantly on top of developments in Paradis etc, also shows that titans are only one facet of her scientist personality.

Besides, if she didn’t have that wonder and curiosity about the outside world, I don’t think she would have done something as ridiculous as join the survey corps in the first place.

“Eren looked like a rebellious teenager angry at everything, and recently I found out that depression in teenagers and children tends to manifest itself that way”

Although depression can manifest itself in anger, similar to Eren’s probably, there’s no exact formula for how humans react to anything. It’s incredibly complex that the field of psychology (or any other field) is just a conglomerate of people and a bunch of reports and the people trying to make sense of all the results of the experiments they made. This is particularly true in the social sciences where any findings won’t point to anything as exact as those in the pure sciences.

Anger and rebellion could also stem from someone having grown up in a rich family with strict rules on how to go about this and that is generally how it fits into my head canon. Someone can have a good relationship with their family while at the same time have qualms about how they were raised. To be honest, I’m probably the same way. I grew up in a relatively well off family, I was a generally angry teenager but I admittedly have a generally positive relationship with my family.

Okay to tackle the issue on depression

I don’t want to be quick as to define any action or any emotional analysis as depression. Depression is an incredibly complex subject, there are biological causes, life events and it manifests itself in so many different ways. So many different ways in fact, that people are rarely diagnosed with just depression. There are always diagnoses which accompany it.

To be honest, I went through a period in time also where I was considering ending it. I was sleeping a lot. I quit everything. I went straight home from school. Barely talked to anyone. I talked to a counselor about it, then a therapist but it took them months before they wanted to give the diagnosis of depression. I actually never pushed through with the sessions after a while, got busy with school and eventually, this cleared up on its own weirdly. I’ll never know actually if I was depressed during that period in time. Was I going through very stressful life events, definitely. Were my answers to the tests they were giving me alarming then? Probably. They could have pointed to depression. But I generally got past it and am generally a happier person now without much intervention. So was it even considered depression? I’ll never know. Some people who are probably much stronger than me needed interventions to stay functional. They needed to make radical life decisions, like move out from their parents place, change their courses to keep going. They needed meds to keep functioning everyday.

Depression is a complex and terrifying condition and manifests itself in so many different ways. In fact, talking to some friends who really watched their life spiral down because of this shitty condition. Towards the later stages of depression, they weren’t even feeling anything anymore.

Could Hange have been experiencing symptoms similar to depression? Definitely. General teenage anger and hormones can manifest as symptoms of depression. Grief can manifest with symptoms of depression. Loss can manifest with symptoms of depression. Trauma can manifest with symptoms of depression. Hange will have experienced a lot of things that

Note : Also Eren’s depression? I honestly think given the experiences he had, inheriting the founding titan and inheriting centuries worth of trauma, I think his experience is beyond fathomable for the average person so I chalk that as completely something else.

Okay, to answer your question, Hange was probably not in the best mental state late into Season 4.

Of course she wasn’t, she lost Moblit, she lost Erwin and suddenly she was pulled into a place with so much responsibility. And she was probably suffering from a case of survivor’s guilt on top of that.

Hiding emotions comes down a lot to discipline, self control and the general strength of your inhibitions.. Emotions are manageable like I could say, I have successfully stopped myself many times from punching someone in the face. Someone’s ability to stop themselves from acting on impulses, someone’s ability to manage their inhibitions is dependent on numerous factors like home environment etc. It is also dependent on the context of that moment where someone has to choose between punching someone in the face or walking away, on the context of that moment where people choose between lying in bed and letting the day go by and standing up and plastering a smile on their face. I guess, that’s the point I wanted to make in a previous post. If Hange did grow up rich, she probably found it a little easier, to plaster a smile on her face because not ever having to experience desperation at an early age, coming to the realization that you’ve had it easier than a lot of people growing up, can do that to people.

But yes, towards the end of season 4, she was going through something. She was struggling, despite her smiling face. But really, in attack on titan, who is happy post chapter 122? Like I cannot think of a single person in that manga who is happy at that point. Please tell me if you can think of anyone.

Would I chalk up Hange’s true feelings to depression?

Manifestations of depression maybe? Post traumatic stress? Stress with little time to process anything or rest? Exhaustion? Not being in the best mental state? Maybe.

I wouldn’t use the word depression definitely.

Depression is an incredibly heavy world with so many implications. In fact, it’s a medical condition which needs to be diagnosed thus, I wouldn’t use that at all to describe anyone’s situation unless they have had multiple consultations with multiple doctors and have been laid a final diagnosis.

I hope this clears things up.

Thank you for the ask again. I appreciate it :D

#attack on titan #eren jaeger #hange zoe #meta

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bedtimebrain · 4 years ago

Text

EXO KAI: Detective Gone Wrong P3

You can find the masterlist to the other parts on my bio/description!

Characters: JonginxYou

You came to know Jongin by accident, but have no clue he’s EXO’s Kai. And when you found out....

You walked away blankly, remaining in a daze until your phone started vibrating in your pocket.

It was your boss who called and anxiously asked if you could cover her shift from the afternoon as she forgot about her wedding anniversary dinner.

You gladly agreed, thinking it might be better to have something to occupy yourself with today. Otherwise you’re just going to be spending the day thinking about you and jongki.

Still sane enough to be in need for breakfast, you went by the convenience store to pick up a sandwich. Standing in front of the fridge, you paused to think

What does jongki want? Does he... like me ?

And he KISSED ME TOO?! That’s definitely something only couples do right?!

How did everything escalate so fast overnight ?!

‘Excuse me, are you getting anything? You’re standing in the way’

You must have stood there for quite a while, looking at the irritated face of the customer. Apologising, you just grabbed whatever sandwich there was on the shelf and left after paying.

Falling deep in thought and replaying what happened last night again, you opened your sandwich packaging and bit down on your sandwich

EW! Egg Mayo!

You sighed. Feeling a little more miserable with wrong sandwich choice, you continued feeding on your thoughts on the way home.

You dive straight into your bed and hugged your big Coney plush the first thing you got back. You screamed into Coney like a lunatic and kicked the air violently with your legs.

Stupid jongki, who does he think he is. Ah yes, I secretly gave you a kiss, so what. IT WAS JUST A FRIENDLY KISS CAUSE YOU WERE CUTE.

BUT WHATS WITH KISSING ME ON THE LIPS AND WAKING UP TOGETHER LIKE ITS ABSOLUTELY NORMAL

What a flirt!! See y/n you were right. Rich, handsome guys, tsk. Bound to be bad.

You threw coney to the side and your phone came crashing down with it from your side table.

Groaning, you bend over your bed to pick it up, only to see a message from the dear boy you wanted out of your mind right now.

J:I’m heading out for work soon~ have a good day today😙

Is that a kissy face?!

Oh goodness, you were so annoyed.

Kim Jongki, are you playing with me right now?? WE ARE NOT ATTACHED

.....

at least not yet (?)

Tossing the phone aside, you decided to take a shower. Afterall showers always work best for any occasion. You got up and spent a peaceful 20minutes running under hot water, clearing your thoughts.

Though still feeling bothered, you were definitely more refreshed. Time check , it was about time for you to get changed and pick up lunch on the way to the store.

Dusting on some light make up, bunning up your hair, you changed into your working clothes. In 30 minutes you were out of the house.

On the bus ride to your working area, you were so torn between checking your phone and not to. You wanted to know if jongki texted you again, but you didn’t really want to deal with this situation.

Fiddling with your phone, you almost dropped it when it beeped to announce a message had arrived.

That’s a sign, I should look at it! Since it rang when I’m thinking whether I should

Excitedly you unlocked your phone and checked your notification, only to find that it was just a reminder message from your landlord to pay your rent.

Your heart literally dropped because you actually really wanted to receive a message from him. Just then your phone beeped again and this time it was from jongki!

J: y/n ah what’s for lunch today? I’m having kimchi stew. Texting because I thought about you who might be board having an off day today :p

Sigh, you can’t deny that boy is so cute and lovable. But you still weren’t ready to reply him. You wanted things to be clearer between both of you. While uncertainty in relationships can be the most heart fluttering period, you didn’t like being in that phase.

It wasn’t long before you reached your stop to alight. Not feeling particularly hungry yet, you stopped by street stalls along the way instead.

You arrived at your shop, feeling satisfied with the pajeon you just had. You almost forgot how therapeutic the scent of flowers were until you stepped in. The mixed floral scent of dew and freshness instantly released you from the troubled thoughts bugging you at the back of your head.

‘Unnie! I’m here! How could you forget your wedding anniversary , hahah. Have you bought a gift or something yet?’

‘Ah, y/n ah! My life saviour. No I haven’t bought anything! There’s just too many activities and occasions this month that I forgot about my own. Gosh’ she face palmed herself making you laugh

‘Then you better leave soon to get your gift! I’m here already anyway! I’ll just continue wrapping this bouquet you’re currently working on’

‘I’ll buy u a meal another day, sorry for calling you back on your off day~ oh right I’ve a parcel coming later, just open and let me know what’s inside. I ordered so many I can’t even remember what’s coming anymore.’ Removing her apron, she rushed off after saying googbye.

Looking at the tasklist, it was going to be a busy day. 5 bouquets to finish and lots of prep for the workshop tomorrow. You immersed yourself in the wrapping right away.

A few minutes later, your phone lighted up. It was a message from jongki.

J:yaaa, are you ignoring me deliberatelyy? do you want to come over again on sunday?

You scoffed when you saw the message because your detective mind came to a conclusion that the latter question was just bait to get the answer to his first question. He was tempting you with a chance at his place that was a hit or miss if you don’t reply him.

You put down the stalks of flowers you were still holding in your hands, you paused to form an appropriate reply.

Text:

my lunch was great, and i cant go over on sunday, im going to my parent’s place

You typed then deleted it, doesn’t sound about right, you remember telling him yesterday that you got a half day shift on sunday which you really hated.

Trying again,

i got called back at work

Sounds fine? Should you send it like this?

‘Delivery!’

Reacting in shock , you pressed the send button by accident at the voice of delivery man

ah shucks!

You closed your eyes and hit yourself on the head imaginatively. Smiling at the delivery guy, you received the parcels and signed them off.

One of it came in a tube, while the other was in a box.

What in the world did unnie order that would come in a tube? Wallpapers? Drawings??

The tube really piqued your curiosity, so you decided to check that first. opened it first.

Opening the tube, you pulled out a rolled piece of paper. Unrolling it, you noticed at the top right was a black and white logo that writes EXO Obsession.

Ohhhh EXO!! Unnie likes exo?

Ever since you watched 100 days my prince, you had a positive inclination towards EXO. Which also reminded you of jongki who seems to like EXO Kai.

You wondered who was going to be in this poster. Not like you would recognise them though, you thought, unless its do kyungsoo ssi.

A little excited, you pulled the poster open to full length.

Looking at the poster that stared back at you. Your smile faded away. Your jaw dropped.

‘Jongki oppa?’ you muttered under your breath

There was an uncanny resemblance between the man in the poster and jongki.

No way, who the hell is this from EXO?

You turned the poster to the back hoping to find a name of the man in the picture. But there was no information.

Flipping back over, you looked closer at the other small details on the logo, you found this 3 lettered word staring back at you — ‘KAI’.

EXO KAI? Jongki watches his dance videos... or rather, Jongki also can dance ..

There were only two logical possibilities to this , either jongki has a twin or... kai is jongki..

You had to know the answer to this incredulous situation.

Making a grab for your phone, you saw jongki had already replied you , but you weren’t even going to read it

Madly typing away

Y: Oppa, do you have a twin ?

You could feel blood pumping through your veins as you sent it.

How could this be possible ? He mustn’t be exo right?

Although you weren’t interested in boy groups, there’s no one that hasn’t heard of EXO in the whole of korea. And that’s how popular EXO is.

Even though you have never checked them out to find out how they looked like, but you still knew a few names. Names like Baekhyun , chanyeol and.. kai..

Thinking of it now, it seems to all make sense that he could dance, he has abs, he’s rich, works till late, doesn’t reply all the time....

As you waited for his text to come back in, you googled EXO Kai.

Birth name: Kim Jong In

Birthday: 14 Jan 1994

Height: 1.82m

1994 was his birth year, that’s right. Kim Jong in, difference of 1 word. 1.82m, yes, obviously describes him. Google images ? 100% similarity.

If it’s not a twin....

Ding!

His msg came in

J: uh, no.. that was so random though, why? Saw someone looking like me?

You didn’t want to believe this. The friend you’ve been hanging with and even sleeping at his place.. is kai?

In the past, when you watched those cliche dramas you never understood why people made such a huge fuss when they found out their dating partner has a hidden identity.

Like isn’t it totally exciting and fun! Especially if the person turns out to be some rich CEO. Wow, your rags to riches story would come true over night.

That’s how you thought you would react.

But honestly, all you felt was some sense of betrayal right now.

Y: oppa, I think I just found out what you do...

you sent

Just in a few seconds, he replied

J:really?! What’s your wild Guess this time ?

Your hands were shaking as you prepared to type this. The moment you send this and he confirms it... what are you going to do ?

But still, this has to be done

Y: EXO Kai. Kim Jong In.

Again, he replied instantaneously

J:omg, took you long enough!! How did you find out though??!

Clearly not being able to sense the tension over the phone, he was, as usual, cheery about everything.

Y:so it’s true ? Why did you lie your name to me?

You had no idea why you felt so emotional to the brink of tears about this truth.

J: ah, I’m sorry for lying about that.. I was worried initially if I told you my real name you might make a connection and recognise me at the start.

He double texted as soon as you received that msg, saying

J: y/n, are you ok?

You typed

no I’m not. I don’t even know how I should be feeling now, or what I should be doing about our friendship.

But.. you didn’t send it. You switched your phone to do not disturb and kept it in your bag.

You stared blankly at the poster for a while before putting it back in the tube. You’re still in disbelief. This situation was ridiculous. But it was logical.

In a state of mental breakdown, you couldn’t even wrap your bouquets right. You switched over to prepping for the workshop tomorrow instead. But your mind was so preoccupied with the whole fiasco that you kept missing things out. You just wanted work to end and have the time to yourself.

The entire day went by in a mess, but at least it finally ended. Back at home, you scroll through the multiple texts he sent you

J: hmm, seems like you’re pretty shocked about this right?

J: I wanted to tell you but you said you preferred if I didn’t though..

Then there was also a missed call from him

J: Call me back?

You swiped away all his notifications. There is something you really want to do, but not really ready to. You contemplated

Should I? Search kai up ?

Typing into Google, you searched kai. It was strange, just 24 hours ago you guys were so close, almost like lovers. But right now, you’re searching him up and getting to know him like an unreachable stranger.

You tapped into one of those webpages that told fans his entire life story. From his blood type to who he has ever dated and all that small little things people conclude from what he has said.

Again, you felt a stab in your heart and sour inside. These were things you never knew about , but surely, everyone else but you knew. It was like... jongki wasnt jongki, this him is different, it feels so far and distant from the one you knew...

Pondering on that thought, you let out a bitter laugh. Jongki really wasnt jongki. He was never jongki.

Switching to YouTube , you click on ‘mmmh’ the first result when you searched kai. No matter how you tried to keep an open mind, you didn’t like it. His costume made him strange and the song really wasn’t your type.

Deciding that’s enough for the day, you put your phone aside and tried your best to fall asleep.

—-

Back at work the next day, you decided to get some ‘intel’ from your boss about kai.

‘Unnie, you like EXO Kai?’

‘Ne!!! Wae? Isn’t his visuals to die for???’ She reacted so excitedly upon hearing his name

‘Why don’t I remember you liking EXO though?’

‘I recently just got into them because of my friend who kept playing their songs on repeat in her car’ she laughed as she fixed the flowers

‘Why did you ask though? Since when were you interested in boy groups?’ She continued asking

‘Ah... When I checked the poster yesterday I thought kai was really good looking, so I’m just asking haha. So what’s so nice about kai you bought a poster?’ Finally asking what you really wanted to .

‘Oh gawd, you really wanna know? I could go on a whole day about jongin. Though he is sooooo fierce on stage , killer looks and everything, but he has such a cute personality!! You know when they ........’

And she went on and on about it, even showing you clips of kai on variety shows, interviews, etc. In these the sense of familiarity was back, you felt like this was the Jongki you knew. Oh well, it’s Jongin now, you really got to change it out.

You laughed along with your boss and you understood why he had so many fan girls. Introducing you to some EXO songs, you had to admit you really liked them!

Knowing more about kai now, you went back home that night and sat infront of your laptop, making a search for EXO’s variety shows, music videos and the likes.

You searched up ‘kai cute moments’ and you wanted to sqush him because he was just so cute like how he was normally. At the same time you can’t help but feel a little jealous that you’re sharing these sides of him with other people too.

You watched his dance videos and he was literally a dancing king. Thinking back to when he danced for you, you suddenly realised just how many girls would die to be in your place.

It was already 1am by the time you finished your search. A msg came in just as you were about to crash

J: are you up? I’m going to the convenience store to grab some food. Are you hungry? Want to come along?

Seeing his msg, you felt a little bad about ignoring him for the 2nd day now. How should you reply him now that the situation is a little awkward ?

Nicely, your phone died as you were thinking.

Alright, just a sign I should go to bed, oppa I’ll reply you after I get my phone charged up tmr.

——

You woke up to an absolutely crisis that you overslept. Considering how you didn’t sleep well for the past 2 nights over jongin, this was bound to come. You quickly washed up and left for work.

Plugging your phone into the portable battery, you phone came back to live. Again, jongin was persistent in his texts.

J:y/n ah don’t ignore me please

J:Come over on sunday?

J: I’m waiting for your reply.

It was 1.30am when he asked you to come over on sunday, but his last message was past 3am. He must have been thinking about what happened with you.. You felt bad for being so absorbed in how you felt and failed to consider his feelings when it really wasn’t his fault.

All this started out because of your dumb self who wanted to play detective. But then again, if you had found out who he was from the start, would you have gotten this close with him? Possibly not. You replied him without delay

Y: i’ll come over on sunday

The shop gets really busy on saturdays, packed with workshops, tons of deliveries and online orders. You didn’t have time to check your phone till the end of the day, at which you saw you missed jongin’s call and texts again.

J: omg, you finally replied! is there anything you want to eat on tomorrow? i could get it if you’re coming over from work

J: we are all ok now right?

Should you call him back? It wasn’t like you were completely okay yet, you couldn’t imagine how it would like seeing him tomorrow. He was surely still that jongki you knew, but he was also kai.

Thinking to leave the rest for tomorrow to think about, you just replied

Y: there’s nothing i really want, just get whatever you like:)

Back at home, for the 3rd night in a row, you stayed up like a fan girl again, watching all of EXO ladders, their concert videos. You squealed and fangirled over them like a teenage girl. The more you watched, the more you started falling harder for them.

---

A halfday shift always makes your day go by real fast. You were standing outside jongin’s door. You were suddenly reminded of the times you watched 100 days my prince with him and talked about D.O. who he probably knows 1000x better than you do. And how you asked if he was a kai fan. Oh gawd, you wanted to jump into a hole. Feeling a little nervous and a little awkward and hella embarrassed, you didn’t want to press the door bell.

Finally pressing the door bell, you waited for barely half a minute, which felt like eternity before he opened the door. You could even feel your palms sweating.

‘Annyeong Y/N! Come in quickly!’

You didn’t reply him immediately, neither did you move an inch yet. The smile on his face slowly faded and he just looked at you, starting to chew on his lips.

Seeing his face once again, in real life, your heart skipped a beat. You knew it wasn’t because he was kai, but because he was still jongki, that someone special to you.

You quickly smiled back at him the moment you got out of your thoughts. He let out the breath that he has been holding, making you laugh.

‘Annyeong, jong..’ you paused there, about to call him jongki

‘annyeong jongin oppa’ it sounds weird to you, not to be calling him the name you were used to

You guess he must have been feeling a little awkward when you called him by his real name too, he scratched his head and chuckled.

‘I ordered pizza, are you hungry? let’s eat’ he gestured for you to go to the dining area and was ready to walk away

But you felt you had to talk to him first about this,

‘oppa, can we talk?’

He turned around to face you, he nodded slowly

‘sure..’

You walked over to him, leaving a comfortable space between the both of you.

He avoided your eye contact as you started

‘so... EXO Kai huh?’

‘...y/n, i.. you should know i have no intentions to hide anything from you deliberately, i was ready to tell you anytime. but i also thought you would react in a ‘pleasant surprise’ way rather than a ‘nasty shock’ received, so i just let it be’

He looked at you with sincerity in his beautiful eyes which showed how bad he felt. But you honestly just wanted to clear the air and lighten up the mood

‘actually, I just wanted to tell you that... I became an EXOL!’

You exclaimed and laughed. His eyes widened and stared at you like you were out of your mind, before bursting into laughter too.

But his laughter soon turned to sobs, and he rubbed his eyes profusely, which got you stunned

‘I... I thought I messed up our friendship, our relationship. And I really missed you, I didn’t want our us to end like this.....’ he said in between sobs and almost sounded like he was wailing

‘We haven’t even started...! Y/N, you scared me when you didn’t even reply at all! I thought you didn’t want to contact me anymore!’ He give you a light push on your shoulder as he emotionally spilled out all his thoughts

Though you were really confused, it was heart wrenching to see him cry so hard. You quickly put your arms around his waist and have him a hug.

‘Oppa, I’m sorry for the past few days I ignored you. I was just trying to figure how to handle the weight of the truth that you’re EXO Kai. Hahah, I’m so confused at your reaction right now you know.’

Calming down, but still sounding nasal he said

‘I’m going to make you stay here today until I’m convinced that you don’t hate me for being kai.

Oh and that you won’t go MIA on me again if you found out some other kai stuff’

Breaking away from the hug, he grabbed onto your shoulders

‘Y/N I like you, I really like you, so don’t leave my life please’

His impromptu confession got you feeling shy, you didn’t know what to do , but merely nodded in response.

Feeling all bright again he grabbed your hand and pulled you into the house.

You were glad it was as if nothing has changed, except that you probably became the luckiest fangirl alive just like this.

———

This fic went through so many content changes, I’m so glad I finished writing this! For those that waited for this part, I hope it wasn’t too underwhelming:,) feel like there’s definitely still a lot for me to work on as a new writer.

Also just dropping a note to say this would most probably be my last fic tell after may! Please check out of my other fics in the meantime too:) Hopefully I’ll be back with better writings !

#kai #exo #exo fanfic #exo scenario #exo scenarios #kim kai #kim jongin #jongin fanfic #jongin scenarios #jongin scenario #exo kai #exo jongin #exo comeback #nini #kai x gucci

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ieattaperecorders · 4 years ago

Text

Something's Different About You Lately - Chapter Seven: Carrying On

A challenging work environment proves to be too stressful for some.

Read on Ao3

Jon missed the tape recorders. He wanted something to talk into, a way to externalize his thoughts. Before the institute he'd write things down – not notes, really, just lists and scribbles he'd use to map his thinking, then discard. Couldn't do that anymore, though. Not without Elias seeing him plan.

He had a notebook and pen in front of him at the moment, and he was using them to draw the same simple pictogram, over and over. A horizontal oval, a smaller circle inside it, and a black dot in the center – which was immediately scratched out until it was no longer recognizable.

The idea had come from Gertrude. Her crates of eyeless dolls, magazines with the eyes cut from every face, they had felt like wards. He wasn't sure how effective they were against Elias, but doing something with his hands helped him think. He'd been at it for a few hours and had managed to fill most of a notebook with crossed-out eyes.

Melanie was being difficult. It was his own fault, really. He'd made the mistake of trying to discourage her from following the incident with Sara Baldwin, and only led her to feel dismissed and disbelieved.

She'd stormed out and he'd run after her, catching up outside the Institute and all but pleading with her. He confessed his fears and repeated what he'd told the others about the paranormal being dangerous. She wasn't pleased, still indignant that he'd take it on himself to decide what was best for her. But she did soften a bit. Made it clear she had every intention of continuing her investigations, but agreed to keep working with him. That was something.

It wouldn't save her, though. Not if she was determined to keep throwing herself at sites of blood and violence.

There was a knock at the door, and Jon flipped the notebook shut.

"Come in."

His door – unpainted wood, bright brass handle – opened a crack and Martin's head poked through the gap. He was still hesitating, taking stock of how busy he was before entering. Jon smiled and he took it as the invitation it was, shouldering his way in and closing the door behind him.

"Brought you some tea," he said, setting down the red and green mug Tim had bought ages ago. "Thought you might be needing a break."

"Not sure if I've earned one. But thank you."

". . . Been quiet today, huh?" Martin's tone was aimless, talking largely as an excuse to linger. "No weird surprises?"

"Not today, no. Would you like to count the doors?"

"Um. Wouldn't take long, would it? Just the one."

Jon smiled, closed his eyes and took a sip of tea. He used to take it black. He'd just defaulted to it naturally, always, until one afternoon when Martin brought him a cup made the way he took his – with too much sugar and just a little milk. Jon had taken a sip of it and realized that he liked he tea sweet. That he'd denied himself that little pleasure for years, for no real reason but habit.

That was before, of course. The Martin who brought him that tea was the one in his memories, not the one standing in front of him. This Martin thought that Jon had always taken his tea with sugar.

"No sign of Michael, then?"

"Still nothing. Maybe it's gotten bored, found someone else to harass."

"Doesn't it bother you? Knowing he's out there, trapping people in those hallways?"

"I don't know." Jon set the mug down, looking at his hands. "Obviously, yes, it bothers me. But I suppose I'm not sure what I could do about it."

"D'you think – maybe this is too easy, but – d'you think you could just smash it with an axe? The door, if it appeared? I know it's supernatural and all, but it's still wood, right?"

"I think we can be quite sure it isn't wood, actually."

"Still thought. Might be worth keeping a fire axe around? Could at least chop through a wall if you got trapped like before."

"Chopping a hole through evil architecture – strangely practical, blunt, and a little bit violent." Jon observed. He couldn't help thinking that Adelard Dekkar would be proud. "If anyone could do it, it would be you."

"Oh –"

"But no one can," he finished. "It's impossible and it would be foolish to try."

"All right, all right. I get it." Martin rolled his eyes. "Suppose I'll let you get back to it, then . . . ."

Jon stood, the scrape of his chair against the floor loud enough to make Martin turn. He hesitated, standing awkwardly by his desk.

"Ah. Hey. H-How are you holding up?" he asked.

Martin blinked. "What?"

"It's been a difficult few months," he continued, hesitant. "There's everything with Prentiss, and even if you didn't encounter Michael yourself, everything I said . . . it's a lot to take in?"

"Oh . . . well, um. Not much to say about Prentiss, I guess. You know I've been settled back home for a while. Still go a little spray-crazy whenever I see an ant, but, um. I know she's dead, so," he shrugged. "Thanks, by the way. For the, um, jar."

"I know it was a bit weird. I just thought it might, um . . . closure and all?" He tapped the edge of his desk, looking down. "Someone did something similar for me once, and, ah, it helped."

"Yeah. I mean. It is sort of weird, but it's nice." Martin rubbed at the back of his neck. "Also uh – y'know. Appreciate all the phone calls. I'm sure you're sick to death of them."

It had taken a little encouragement, but Martin had been phoning him at night for a few months. First hesitantly and infrequently, then with something approaching regularity. He'd call when he wasn't able to sleep, or wakened by vivid nightmares, and in need of another voice to settle him. No singing, thankfully. It seemed that danger was in the past.

Mostly when he mentioned nightmares, they were about the worms. But Jon suspected there were other things behind some of those calls. He remembered one occasion when Martin didn't say why he'd phoned, barely said anything at all. Just rang Jon up and asked him to please, talk to him about something, anything. He sounded like he'd been crying, and it had taken all of Jon's willpower to not ask why. He'd fumbled around until he found a book on naval history that had been left beside his bed, opened it and began reading out loud. It was all that he could think to do.

It wasn't usually so fraught as that, though. Usually Martin just needed to get his mind off things, long enough to calm down and rest. They'd reached a point where it was a pattern, a quiet little ritual of their own. A moment at the beginning talking through it, then a shift to something easy – books they'd read, movies they liked, silly things that had happened at work.

Sometimes when Martin didn't feel safe in his flat, Jon offered to come over and look over it with him. He always declined, and Jon promised himself that he wouldn't push the issue. Not unless he believed Martin was in real danger, which fortunately never seemed to be the case.

"I've actually come to enjoy our little late night chats," he said. "I'm learning a lot about independent film."

"I know I'm waking you up a lot."

"Sometimes. I still keep odd hours, though. Really there's nothing you could do to my sleep schedule that hasn't already been done." He paused, glancing back at Martin. "Ah . . . what about the other thing? What I said about Elias? We haven't . . . well, we never really talked about it?"

"It's . . . augh, I don't know." Martin shifted from one foot to the other. "Okay, would you explain something to me?"

"Of course."

"So you said that Elias is spying on us, with some supernatural clairvoyance. And he was probably doing it when you told us that, meaning he knows the secret's out, right?"

"Almost definitely. I can't be sure when he's watching and when he isn't, but I would be very surprised if he doesn't know."

"Then why hasn't he done anything?"

"Why would he?" Jon shrugged. "What could he gain from addressing it? Look at it this way – if you all think I've lost it, then he has every reason to keep you thinking that. Even if you believe me, if there's room for doubt at all he's still better off acting normal. He has no reason to discard the facade until it stops being useful."

"I suppose . . ."

"Look, its – it's all right if you don't believe me. I know it's a hell of a claim to make, and I don't have any proof. But don't trust him. Even if you can't trust me, don't trust Elias either. He doesn't have our best interests at heart."

"I didn't say I didn't trust you . . . ."

Jon blinked, startled. "Then you do trust me?"

"Wh – That's not what –" Martin shook his head. "I mean . . . yes? I guess? I don't think you're lying about this. It's just a lot, I guess."

"Have you tried quitting yet? That's probably the closest thing to proof I can offer."

"Nah." Martin shrugged. "Don't see the point, really. Either I try and I can't, so no reason to bother, or I can and I'd be leaving you all to deal with the monsters, so . . . ."

He shrugged again. So. So he wouldn't leave even if he could. Jon shook his head and sighed, smiling.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad you're here. That is – obviously I'm not glad you're trapped here, I don't, ah, I don't want that. But just . . . in general."

A surprised huff came out of Martin. He looked down and smiled, leaning towards the praise like a plant to sunlight. "Ah, y'know. Even without supernatural compulsion, I'd probably be stuck here anyway. Don't think my job prospects are that impressive."

"That's not true," Jon frowned. "You've been here, what, over ten years? That shows reliability. Then there's experience, familiarity with the catalog systems . . . you'd have an impressive resume even without any—"

Shit. He cut himself off as he realized what he'd nearly referred to. Unfortunately Martin noticed the abrupt stop, furrowing his brow.

"Without any what?"

"Hmm? Nothing." Jon looked hard at the wall, trying not to betray the tension he'd created in himself. "Was thinking of something else for a moment."

Stupid, stupid. He wasn't supposed to know about the fake degree. Martin hadn't told him about it, or he had but not this Martin, not this time, couldn't he keep the two straight in his mind? He tried to think of a direction to turn the subject towards. Martin was giving him a searching look and he knew damn well he needed to stop looking so caught, he'd said almost nothing, and if he could just act casual there would be no reason at all to assume –

"Oh . . . oh." Slow realization built on Martin's face. "Shit."

"It doesn't matter," Jon blurted out. "Forget I said anything, please."

". . . Did Tim tell you?"

"No. It's a long story and – and it doesn't matter anyway, does it?" He shrugged, a sad smile on his face. "None of our resumes mean anything here. You can't lose this job however much you might want to, and Elias already knows, so . . . ."

"Wait, what? Elias too?"

"He's known from the beginning. I suspect he's enjoyed having something to hold over you."

A conflicted look passed over Martin, and Jon saw him rubbing his thumb and forefinger together.

"God, that . . . that actually makes a lot of sense." He let out a frustrated sigh. "I used to think maybe, with some of the things he'd say . . . but I thought I was just being paranoid."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said."

"No, no," Martin exhaled, tension still fixing his features. "I'd rather know. Thanks for telling me, I guess. Even if it was, you know, an accident."

The thumb and forefinger again, moving back and forth at his side. Jon had noticed him doing that in the time they'd spent in Daisy's cabin. It was a habit that would come up sometimes when they talked about Peter, or Elias. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what it was . . . tension, rumination? More that anything else, Jon had come to liken it to the repetitive movement of a tiger pacing a cage.

". . . Are you all right?"

"Yes! No!" Martin dragged a hand over his face. "God, I don't know! It's such a stupid thing to get worked up over. I mean, if anything it's good news, right? One less thing to worry about . . . ."

"The revelation that a man you've known for the majority of your adult life has been deliberately letting you sweat over a harmless lie for a decade?" Jon shook his head. "No, I wouldn't say that qualifies as good news."

"Right!? It's messed up, isn't it?" He threw his arms out to the sides. "I just . . . now I'm thinking about these comments he'd make? Never anything where I could say for sure, but he'd mention someone else not being qualified for their job and look right at me. Or ask weird, pointed questions about the university I didn't go to so I'd have to make up something on the spot and –" his hands shook as he gestured, "– and he was laughing at me the whole time. Wasn't he?"

"It's what he does. It's what he is," Jon said darkly. "He watches other people squirm."

And you'd know all about that, wouldn't you? He could almost hear the smug bastard's voice in the back of his mind, but he shook it off. That wasn't the point. He looked over at Martin, who had gone quiet, and wondered if it would be inappropriate to put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Jon continued, staying where he was. "You have every reason to feel . . . I don't know. Angry? Betrayed? Used?"

". . . The whole ‘no quitting' thing. I saw people come and go in the library a lot. It doesn't apply there, does it?"

"No. Just the archive."

"He knew about that too. Didn't he?"

"He did. That's something we have in common," Jon said softly. "I brought Tim and Sasha into this – that's my unfortunate role in it all. But you and I were placed here by someone who knew exactly what he was doing to us."

". . . Fuck."

"Agreed."

"Well, I sure as hell don't trust him now." Martin let out a long breath, straightening up, releasing a little of the tension he seemed to be holding. "I guess this means everyone knows? Except Sasha . . . ."

"I'm sure Sasha knows too. Do you really think we have any secrets from her?" Jon shook his head. "The other day I made an offhand comment about the trouble with statements coming from criminals, and she started needling me about the time I spent in juvenile court."

That seemed to startle Martin enough to shake his mood. "Wait, what? Back up. You've got a criminal past?"

"Nothing so dramatic," Jon huffed, waving his hand "it was all incredibly minor offenses, childish things, you know."

"Sorry, I – I'm just having trouble imagining you as a juvenile delinquent."

"Whatever you are imagining, it wasn't that." He leaned stiffly on the desk behind him. "I was a fairly troublesome child. I was bored easily, and I liked to explore. Sometimes I found myself on one side of a fence that I . . . simply needed to see the other side of. A number of authority figures took issue with this."

"Huh," an amused smile crossed Martin's face. "That's . . . honestly kind of adorable."

"My grandmother did not share your opinion. The point is, Sasha didn't learn that through me. She's probably dug into all of our backgrounds."

"Ugh. Probably." Martin shook his head. "We really ought to have a talk with her about that . . . it's getting less and less like a quirk and more like a serious privacy concern? I swear she sees even the monster stuff as a mystery for her to solve."

"At least she's taking it well."

"Yeah . . . not like Tim."

Not like Tim, no. He wasn't the bitter, broken man in Jon's memories. He still smiled and joked around, and he wasn't isolating himself. But the revelation about this place had reached something deep and wounded in him. He got into somber moods, and his humor had taken on a noticeably harsh edge. Even his more playful moments seemed worrying -- he was impulsive in a way he hadn't been before, like he was desperately trying to cover it all with cheer. They were still talking at least, Jon hadn't ruined that line of connection yet. But seeing Tim's pain poke its head above the surface made him fearful. He knew that it ran deep. It was hard not to be skittish around him now.

"No," Jon said. "He puts on a brave front but I know it's hit him hard."

"Have you talked to him about it at all?"

"Not really. The other day I tried to ask how he was handling things and he just . . . slowly shook his head at me. So, ah, I –" hid in my office like a coward until everyone had left "– thought it best to drop the subject. You?"

"Mostly the same. I mean, I know it's bothering him, and I've tried bringing it up. But he always brushes it off with a joke, or just tells me to leave it. I think he talks to Sasha more."

"Yes . . . I'm glad he has her here," Jon sighed. "She seems to keep him grounded."

"And Sasha seems to manage on her own. So they're okay, more or less." Martin glanced pointedly at him. "What about you, though? Who's keeping you grounded?"

He asked as if the answer wasn't obvious, but Jon supposed it wasn't. Not to him.

"I could ask you the same," he smiled. "You're always checking in on us. Reminding Sasha to eat, nudging Tim, seeing that I don't waste away in here. Who's checking in on you?"

"Oh. You know," he shrugged, "I-- I'm pretty good at taking care of myself."

"Maybe," Jon said softly. "But you could still let somebody take care of you."

Surprised, Martin blinked and looked away with a nervous little laugh. His voice cracked slightly as he spoke – easy to miss, even easier to ignore, a quiet and ordinary pain.

"Well, unless you know someone who's likely to volunteer, I don't think –"

Jon's feet moved without his permission, one step forward, two, until he was close enough to put a hand on Martin's arm. Enough to stop his waving hand, to quiet the gesture of brushing away concern. He stilled immediately.

"You deserve to be cared for, Martin."

He knew right away it was too much, it was far too much. He'd crossed a line that he should be leaving alone, the words were too honest and too intimate and too close. You deserve to be cared for. If he'd said it from across the room in a different tone of voice, it would be possible to hear as advice – something about self-care or accepting help or something more removed. But not there, not standing so close. Nothing about this was removed.

"Oh," Martin's eyes were wide and staring. "Um. Oh."

He didn't pull back, but he was stiff under Jon's hand so he let go. If – if Martin was just startled, frozen like a deer in headlights, he didn't want to box him in. Unmoored, his hand hovered as if it had forgotten where it belonged.

". . . I would like to take care of you," he let it out in a breath. It felt like he'd been holding it forever. "If you would let me."

Martin breathed in sharply, but didn't speak. Jon spoke, words spilling out faster than he could hold onto them.

"I've felt this way for a while," he said. "I . . . I want to be there when you're afraid, or when you're lonely. I just. Want to be with you."

Something shattered when he said that, and Martin took a step backwards. He placed a hand over his mouth, stifling what might have been a laugh and might have been a sob, shoulders shaking, gaze cast down and away. There were tears in his eyes and Jon knew he'd made a mistake. It was too much, too close, too soon, and he'd hurt him and he couldn't take it back and he'd ruined it all –

"Oh, Jon . . ." Martin looked at him, eyes still shining with tears. "I've been in love with you since we ran from Prentiss together."

Carefully, Jon reached forward. Martin didn't freeze and he didn't step back, he moved towards him like a miracle. Jon's hand remembered where it belonged, it ran itself along Martin's cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin, smoothing the hair at his temple. Martin closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, and it was a gift, a prayer answered. He moved closer and then there were Martin's arms encircling him, Martin's head resting on his shoulder, Martin's breath against his ear. It was like coming home, like remembering himself. Nothing was certain and nothing was safe and none of that mattered at all, because finally, finally, he was back where he belonged. They were back in each other's arms.

"I love you," Jon said. "I'm so, so scared, but you give me a reason to be brave. You make me want to be human."

"I'm scared too," Martin whispered. "All the time."

"I know . . . God, I know," he whispered back. "I want us to have each other. I want to just – just take you places. To cook for you and show you things that I like. To do all the simple, normal things we could never do before."

"I want that too. I want to walk in the rain with you, and hold your hand, and read you my poetry."

"I want to fuss about my appearance, because I know I'm going to see you later," Jon laughed, "I want to worry about harmless, little things like that."

A contented sigh came from Martin, and he pulled back, taking Jon's hands in both of his.

"You know what I really want to do, though?" he asked, "more than anything in the world?"

"Gouge our eyes out, murder Elias, and flee the country together?"

Martin grinned. "You read my mind."

"I didn't have to!" Jon said, grinning back.

* * *

"Jon? Jon. Are you all right?"

"Hmm?" Jon blinked, pulling himself back to reality. The edge of his desk still pressed against his back. "Sorry, what?"

"We were talking about Tim?" Martin frowned. "Then you just sort of stared into the distance for a minute."

"Right. Yes. Sorry," he cleared his throat, glancing away. "Low blood sugar."

"Oh. When did you last eat? I could grab something from the break room, if you–"

"S'fine. Really." Jon pulled himself back behind his desk. "I'm sure the tea will help. I should get back to work."

"Oh. Okay." Martin hesitated, glancing back. "Don't work to hard, all right? We worry about you, you know."

The door closed behind him and Jon slumped in his seat, sighing. When his own lovesick daydreams veered into self-mockery, it was probably a bad sign. He picked up the mug, letting it warm his hands, sipping slowly.

Martin had been attentive since he came back from the Distortion's door – checking in, bringing him tea, prodding him to come out for lunch. It was . . . well, it was familiar. And nice. God, it was nice. But did it mean anything? Martin was drawn to taking care of people. Fussing like this, it meant that he was worried about him, and that thought alone made something in his chest ache sweetly. But he wasn't sure if it meant anything else.

He knew Martin had feelings for him long before he himself had noticed, but where those feelings had begun, he didn't know. He absolutely didn't know how his actions might have changed things, might continue to change them. That left him guessing, and he had never been good at guessing such things. He'd admired Georgie for a while before gathering the courage to ask her out. When he had she'd been surprised – apparently she'd been flirting with him without him noticing or responding to it. By contrast, he'd been awkward around Tim for almost a week after misinterpreting a few comments he'd made and not knowing how to feel about them. (Tim had rather kindly, if embarrassingly, put an end to it by pointedly saying Jon was ‘nice, but not his type' within earshot.)

Still. He didn't need to know how Martin felt about him. He could take a risk. Risks were something he was always taking.

Things still weren't that simple.

His feelings for Martin weren't small. They had a weight that he didn't always know how to carry. He looked at him and saw someone who'd kept vigil at his hospital bed until the pain of waiting had worn him down. Someone he'd pleaded with in the cold, deep heart of the Lonely, who'd clung to him as they walked through the fog. Someone he'd been with during the last peaceful weeks the world had ever had. Someone who gave him hope when all was hopeless.

How was he supposed to make that seem like anything that had developed in the time they'd known each other? At best he'd seem over-invested in a relationship that hadn't begun. More likely he'd come off as an obsessive stalker. And if he shared his feelings with Martin, he wasn't sure he could keep a lid on everything else. It wasn't just the end of the world. There were so many things.

How's the poetry going, Martin? What's that? How did I know you wrote poetry? Well, I assure you I found out through entirely non-invasive means that require no follow-up questions.

Say Martin, how is your relationship with your mother? Any pressing emotional difficulties you'd really like to have closure on there? Why yes, these are extremely strange and inappropriate questions for me to ask considering you've never talked to me about her! Unrelated, but if I knew the date of her impending death do you think it would be crueler to tell you, or to let it be a devastating surprise?

While we're on the subject of things I know, M artin, have you ever wondered what it's like to be digested alive? Or to be an unwilling spectator trapped in you own body as it stalks and kills everyone you love? Because I can describe both of those experiences in intimate, firsthand detail if you're curious! Ah, you appear to be backing away slowly. What a reasonable reaction.

Time was passing intolerably slowly, yet it still felt preciously short. And while he waited, hesitated and worried, he was running out of time for himself.

The Unknowing would fail, but the circus was still coming for him. And perhaps he should just let them have him? He'd survived it once, after all, and there was reason to assume things would play out as before. If he tried to struggle, tried to change things, it might go badly. They might decide he was too much trouble to hold for a month and flay him as soon as he was caught. Or someone else might be grabbed alongside him, even killed outright. To say the circus was unpredictable was an understatement that bordered on comical. The safest, most practical option was to play through his period of captivity again.

But . . . God, he didn't want to. He hated to admit it - wished there was another reason, some danger, some unacceptable risk. But the simple truth was that he didn't want to live through that month again.

He was being childish. It wasn't as if they would actually take his skin in the end. He wouldn't die or lose anything permanent, he just had to spend a month in their hands. It was only a month. He'd seen worse. He'd caused worse. Every time he thought about it his hands shook, he felt sick and couldn't eat.

Circus aside, he'd at least learned something useful after his failure to save Helen. He'd done some snooping behind Rosie's desk and found that Elias had ordered a cab for her, just as he had done originally. Meaning he was still trying to mark him. But surely, he was marked already – psychological scars had been enough the first time, and he had the full compliment there. If Elias didn't know that, that was some reassurance.

Jon was fully marked, but he was not yet suffused with the Eye's power. So the world was safe from him, for now. All he had to do was stay human. That was it. He could surely manage that, couldn't he?

Except . . . there were still other things.

The table had shaken him. He'd kept out of the archive on the day it was to arrive, not wanting to encounter Breekon and Hope. But when he returned, nothing had come. He waited, he checked and triple checked artifact storage, asked around to see if anyone had signed for it. There was nothing. After a month he accepted that it simply wasn't coming. But why? Nothing he'd done could have caused this. It was new. A change that came from something other than him.

The spiders were becoming more noticeable as well. Everywhere he went, he saw cobwebs clinging to the corners, or spotted something skittering in the outskirts of his vision. It was worst in his flat – he'd destroy any webs he found on sight, only to find they'd respun themselves hours later. They appeared in odd places – in cabinets, drawers, strung across his pillow. Sometimes he'd wake to feel something crawling on his neck, that vanished when he tried to grab at it.

They gave him peace now and then, leave him just long enough for desperate hope to leak in. Then he'd catch himself in the mirror and swear, swear he noticed a dark little leg vanish into the crevice of his ear.

All that was nothing against what happened a week ago, however.

A woman had come to give a statement, someone he didn't recognize. She wouldn't take the form. She insisted he hear her speak, said he had to know her story, that it had to be him. He protested and tried to pull away. But then she started talking. And he started listening.

He didn't want to. He tried to interrupt, stop her, walk out of the room, but he just . . . couldn't. It felt different. He remembered what being dependent on statements was like – after reading out loud became automatic, after listening was a physical need. This was something else. He wasn't in control of his body, couldn't put his hands over his ears, couldn't force his thoughts away from the rapt attention he was giving her.

It was a spider one. Of course it was.

She'd succumbed to a mysterious malaise that was making her grow slowly weaker. Not an illness, no – the doctors were no help at all, sending her back with a shrug about chronic fatigue. But it wasn't just the tiredness. Her thoughts were foggy, her emotions were both heightened and muddled. It felt like being drugged, but she was on no medications and took nothing that was recreational, so it couldn't be some previously unseen side effect. It wasn't likely anything in her environment, either. Her partner had no symptoms, and they lived together and shared most of their meals.

Of course, her partner was the one who prepared all their meals. She loved her partner, trusted them, and yet . . . it would be too easy, wouldn't it? To slip a little something into her plate every time. Just a few drops of liquid, a few granules of powder, carefully dissolved into a heavily seasoned sauce, undetectable under everything else? Her partner always did spice things so heavily, enough to disguise anything. Paranoia became hostility, and the relationship fell apart. But even after they moved out, that hazy, lulled feeling got worse. She had dizzy spells, lost time, she never felt quite herself. Her suspicions broadened. Was her food being contaminated at the store? It wouldn't be difficult to slide a needle through the loose, plastic packaging. Could it be one of her neighbors? She slept so heavily at night, any of them could slip in with an eyedropper to hold over her sleeping lips.

That last notion is what prompted her to place a camera over her bed.

When she played back the footage it recorded, she got an answer of sorts. She watched herself get into bed, toss and turn for a while before falling still. Then she watched as the blanket covering her sleeping form shuddered, as something dark began to spread from under it, out over her body. A swarm of tiny black spiders crawled over her, covering every inch of skin, biting her just hard enough to inject a tiny drop of venom. They withdrew a moment later, vanishing under the blanket and leaving no marks behind. She slept through it all.

None of the frantic investigations she made of her bedclothes revealed any sign of infestation. She burned the blankets and replaced the mattress, but the process repeated itself the next night, and the night after that, and the night after that. Even leaving her apartment didn't make a difference. Wherever she slept, they came. The watchful eye of the camera captured the same image – a thousand thousand bodies swarming over her, poisoning her, without waking her.

Each day, she grew weaker. But thanks to the camera, she knew now that there was no escape.

He'd stood frozen afterwards, whether overwhelmed by the horrors he'd been force-fed or stilled by some other hand, he didn't know, but by the time he came back to himself she was long gone. He tried asking after her – Rosie hadn't spoken to the woman much, but she did sign her in as a visitor and pointed the name out to him: Hazel Rutter. It was all he could do not to scream.

The Web had led him to the end of the world as surely as Elias had, keeping its hand in everything. And he was still dancing on its strings. Had sending his memories back been what it intended all along? Was he keeping himself free of the Beholding only so the Web could come pouring in? Would he be made into a destroyer again, remaking the world in the image of a power that had held him in its threads since childhood?

He was afraid of being taken again by the circus, but there was another fear behind that. That this time he would escape would come not through a deceitful door, but because of a lock clogged with cobwebs, a captor bloated with venom, a path to safety marked by pale, silk threads. If his salvation came at a puppeteer's hands, what would he do then?

He didn't have an answer. He spent most of his time hiding in his office, turning over these things in his mind, and he knew that he wasn't doing well.

The more he agonized, the more confining the walls began to seem. He stood to move to the door, but stumbled and hit the floor instead. He felt lightheaded. Rather than trying to stand again, he pressed his back against the wall, pulling his knees to his chest. Motes of dust swam in his vision as he tried, desperately, to get his breathing under control.

There was a noise somewhere near him, and the room was flooded with light.

* * *

Someday, Tim was going to get it through his head that knocking on a door while opening it was basically the same as not knocking. Today wasn't that day, though.

At first he thought he'd caught Jon out of his office and had been about to leave the papers he'd brought on his desk. But then he heard something shift against the wall and his fight or flight switched right on. He should probably have wondered why, like a teen in a horror movie, his instinct was to go towards the mysterious noise in the creepy, dimly-lit room. But this time it didn't matter because it wasn't an army of worms, or a soul-stealing clown. Just Jon. Sitting on the floor, breathing erratically, with a thousand yard stare on his face.

Tim hesitated, glancing quickly around to confirm that whatever Jon was spooked by wasn't still in there with them. Then he took another step forward, carefully.

". . . You okay, boss?" he asked.

Jon turned towards him and stared, his mouth moving in an unsuccessful attempt to reply. After a moment, he managed a shaky inhale and a nod.

"Yes," his voice was tight, barely above a whisper. "Yes, I'm fine."

Tim nodded. He wouldn't dignify that one with an eye roll or a sarcastic reply. He stood there for a little while, thinking.

There were options. He could drop the papers on the desk and leave, do a casual ‘well, see you later' as if there was nothing noteworthy about coming across your coworker having a panic attack on the floor. It was embarrassing, being found like this, and Jon would probably rather have privacy. Tim could walk right out and pretend this never happened. Or he could tap his shoulder later, after he'd pulled himself together, ask what it had been about then. If he did that, of course, Jon would no doubt say it was just a bit of stress and thank you for your concern but there's no need, and so on.

And maybe that was all right. Maybe that was all either of them needed.

Tim still remembered the early days, back before he'd gotten comfortable at the Institute. Back when Danny was too fresh and raw a wound, before the pain had dulled enough for his dazzlingly charming personality to come back. When he was quieter and much more short tempered, and the only person who tolerated him for long was a prickly nerd that most people found just as irritating as him.

There had been a lot of late nights in the library back then. Jon catching up or getting ahead on whatever bullshit they were supposed to be working on, Tim obsessing over his own work, looking for anything he could find about circuses and hidden theaters and place that take the people you love. They didn't talk that much, certainly not about the important things. There was some small talk, complaints about other people in research, arrangements to go in on takeout together. Mostly there was silence.

Sometimes Tim would take a bathroom break that lasted far too long and come back with his eyes red and puffy. But Jon never, ever commented on Tim's absence or on the state of his face. He'd sit quietly at the table across from him, occasionally remarking on something unimportant, certainly not asking what he'd been crying about. And maybe – hell, probably – Jon just genuinely didn't notice, because that was how Jon was. It didn't really matter either way.

Later, he would get comfortable. Later his laughter would come back, people would warm up to him and he'd warm up to them. And later, everyone would wonder how two people as different as himself and Jon could end up being friends. But during those late nights, Jon had been what Tim had needed. More than anything.

Maybe that was what Jon needed now. Someone to not notice his pain.

". . .You sure about that?" Tim asked.

Jon nodded again, whispering. "Come back later."

It was what he was asking for. No surprise there. He'd been secretive and edgy and weird for ages, and Tim hated it. But still he couldn't leave. It was that face – tear—trails drying on his cheeks, but not crying. Eyes glazed, expression distant, as if he was nowhere near his body at all. It rung against Tim's core, like a familiar tune. Like tucking someone into bed on his couch and finding them gone the next morning.

He closed the door behind him and sat on the floor, putting an arm around Jon's shoulders.

"Nah," he said. "Not gonna do that."

Jon stiffened for a moment, shaking his head. "I – really, I don't need –"

Tim squeezed just the tiniest bit, and he would never hear what Jon thought he didn't need. Words dissolved, shoulders dropped.

He knew Jon's secret. He didn't come off as the touchy sort – not like Tim, who was all side-hugs and handshakes and high-fives with everyone. Jon kept a careful bubble around him, but the second that bubble was popped-- the second someone else initiated contact, that was it. He tightened his hold, and Jon let himself be pulled closer, bringing a hand up to grip Tim's arm. He took it as silent confirmation that a tighter hug was right, brought his other arm around the front and squeezed.

They sat that way a while - Tim holding Jon in place, not looking at him, focusing instead on the opposite wall. On the stacked boxes and itchy-looking olive green coat that hung on the hook. What material was that thing made of? It didn't look comfortable, and was probably a nightmare when it got wet. Tim didn't know what a head archivist got paid, but it had to be enough to afford better outerwear than that. He contemplated this as Jon shuddered against him, muffled noises coming from him in the quiet. If at any point Tim felt tears through the fabric of his shirt, he would never, ever, ever admit it.

Gradually, the shaking died down. As Jon slowly relaxed, Tim felt a small, quiet tension melt out of him as well. When it felt right he loosened his grip enough for Jon to pull away. He did, taking his weight off and sitting a little straighter. He kept close, though, and didn't try to shake the arm off his shoulders. The bubble was popped.

"I-- forgive me," Jon's voice was hoarse from crying, but it sounded better than the strained crack he'd been speaking through before. "I don't know what came over me. Stress, I suppose. Getting to me a little."

"Yeah," Tim sighed, making a point to keep his tone casual. As if this was small talk, as if nothing worth commenting on had just happened. "It's been a heck of a year, huh?"

Jon let out a weak laugh, wiping his face with the end of his sleeve. "It certainly has. Hah. Exceptionally so."

"Not the cushy academic careers we were promised, huh?"

"Not in the least." Jon's face was grim. "I'm – I'm sorry. For dragging you into it."

"You didn't know about the not quitting thing. S'not your fault."

"You don't . . . ah – You don't think so?"

"Don't mistake it. I fucking hate that I'm here," he smiled without really feeling it. "If I could go back in time and make you absolutely hate me, so you never wanted to see me again, so you'd ask for anyone else, I'd do it. But it's not your fault. Just . . . rotten luck."

Slowly, Jon nodded. He looked surprised. This had probably been on his mind a while, then.

"Can't do that, though. So this is it," Tim sighed. "Just got to make the most of what we still have. Until something out there gets close enough to take it from us."

". . . I won't let that happen." Jon's response was immediate, reflexive, even. Sharp, quick, and absolutely meaningless.

"So what?" Tim asked. "You think you need to let it happen for it to happen? That monsters are only going to get in here with your permission?"

"No . . . no, you're right," he drew a breath. "It's not as simple as that."

"I'm not saying not to fight, though. If anything comes for me, I for one plan to go down swinging."

That quieted Jon. He looked down at his folded hands, frowning, for a while.

"Just don't be too eager for it," he said eventually. His tone was strange, careful, uneasy. "Things might not always be this way. It might – might be worth staying alive a while longer."

Tim raised an eyebrow. "You know something you're not telling me?"

". . . More than you can imagine," he sighed, leaning back against the wall and letting Tim's arm slide off him. "But I can't explain. It's . . . complicated."

He could practically hear Sasha's voice in his mind, begging him to press for more. But Sasha wasn't here, and he honestly wasn't sure if he wanted to know whatever secrets Jon was holding back.

"All right, Captain Cryptic," he nudged him with an elbow. "I won't push it. Just promise me there aren't any more worm queens hiding in the walls."

"I certainly hope not. I've had enough of worms for –" Jon laughed once, to himself, looking down at his hands "—more than one lifetime."

"I'd drink to that. Now if only I had a flask to pull out here. Then you could say--" he shifted his tone, imitating Jon's voice "'Tim, I hardly think that's an appropriate thing to have in the workplace.' And I'd remind you we work in a building of pure nightmares, and tell you to stuff it."

"Honestly, if you pulled out a flask right now I'd be inclined to join you."

"Scandalous. And here I thought you were supposed to set a good example for us."

"It's become abundantly clear to me that no one should be following my example."

Tim paused for a moment, then smiled. "You know what? Fuck it. I don't have a flask, but there's a bar a few blocks down." He elbowed him again, putting more weight into it and actually knocking him back a little. "Let's get shitfaced at eleven on a Tuesday morning. Not like they can fire us for it."

"Oh. Uh." Jon bit his lip, tension slipping back into him. "I'm not sure if it's a good idea for me to go outside right now . . ."

"Mmm." Nope. Tim wasn't going to let him get away that easily, and he was pretty sure he knew more than one of his secrets. "Not even if I rope Martin into coming?"

"I-- ah," Jon's gaze was suddenly on the coat that had captured Tim's attention earlier. Small world. "I don't really see how that would be relevant--"

"Would you swallow your damn pride and ask him out already? It's getting hard to watch."

A slightly choked noise came out of Jon, and his back went ramrod straight. And it was satisfying, so satisfying to see that even with the danger and the fear and the cloud hanging over them all, Tim could still get him worked up over something like this.

"I don't know what-- I think you've misinterpreted. . . ."

"Have I, then? Sorry for making assumptions."

"Yes, well," he was going to bore a hole through that thing if he stared any harder at it. "You ought to be."

"In that case, guess I've got the all clear." Tim pulled a leg up, leaning casually back. "If you don't want to play hooky with me, maybe I'll see if Martin wants to get drinks. Just the two of us."

"—Don't."

"Ha!" Tim grinned as Jon looked away again, diving wholeheartedly into friendly sadism. "Goodness. Who would have thought our beloved leader was the jealous type?"

"I'm no- - that isn't- -" He frowned, shoulders hunched, quietly radiating pique. "Martin is - - he's free to do as he likes. I don't - -" he glanced back anxiously. "But you were just saying that to provoke me, weren't you?"

"Seriously? Ask him out. Worst thing is he says no. And if you haven't got the guts to ask yourself, you've really no business getting riled up at the idea of someone else doing it."

"I know, I know. . . it's just - -" Jon sighed and looked back at his hands, having apparently given up on denials. "It isn't that simple."

"Right. ‘Cause you're his boss."

"Ah . . . ." Jon blinked. "Yes, that is an issue, isn't it?"

"But really, what're you going to do? Fire him if he says no? Don't think the chain of command really means much at this point. No offense."

"Mmn."

"So. I'm going to get Sasha, and we're going to use peer pressure on him, which we all know he's helpless against. Then the three of us are going to hit the bar, because fuck this place. You joining us?"

He hesitated, conflicted. "I . . . I shouldn't."

Tim shrugged. It was disappointing, but if Jon was determined to crawl back under his desk and hide, that was his choice. He stood and headed for the door.

"Suit yourself," he said. "But don't lean to hard into the whole ‘fearless leader' thing, huh?"

"Wait –"

He paused, hand hovering over the doorknob. Jon stood uncertainly in the middle of the room.

"I, ah . . . come to think of it, I--" he glanced at the clock. "Twenty minutes? I'll meet you there."

Tim smiled. "Sounds good, boss."

#tma fanfic #time travel au #tma #i had to hop in and tweak a few things that were originally in this chapter #as a result of the most recent episode #there's no spoilers mostly i deleted things

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kermitbread · 5 years ago

Text

as promised, another one lol it's kinda stupid but enjoy

also it available now in AO3. haha

Sakura didn't know who to thank for this strange sort of miracle.

She didn't know how or why, but Tsukasa's behavior had improved lately, his violent tendencies lessened a little and moreover, he was somehow learning to mind his surroundings more. Something must have happened, because she sure wanted to know all about it.

Of course, their work of spreading rumors over the PA system wasn't over yet, but Sakura was nonetheless glad for the new change. Maybe the boy was still capable of becoming a normal person, somehow.

Calmly taking a sip of her tea, she dismissed the cry-laughing noise coming from behind. Seems like Natsuhiko and Tsukasa were up to some no good again, but wasn't that what they always do?

"Okay, okay, but chibi, what I'm telling you is solid advice here." Natsuhiko ceased his laughing, just right after making some sort of unfunny joke that Tsukasa found hilarious for some reason. "You've got the 'being nice to girls' part okay and all, but there's more to that in lots of ways."

"Really?" Tsukasa leaned in, interested in learning whatever the guy was gonna say next. Natsuhiko beamed at his eagerness, as it somehow fed his own ego right up to an eleven.

"Yep. If you really wanna reach a girl's heart, you gotta show her that you care. Gestures say a lot more than words do."

"Right, right!"

"Do things like hold her hand when she talks about her day, or give her a hug if she's feeling down. They're just ordinary gestures but I can guarantee you, that's more than enough."

From afar, Sakura rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she turned another page of the book in her hands. For an airhead, Natsuhiko sure knew an awful lot about that kind of stuff.

Kinda ironic if you thought about it.

Ah, today was going so smoothly. It was just Hanako, Nene, and some tasty donuts she had made especially for him. Just the two of them on the rooftop, no exorcist kid to third wheel them, no annoying twin brother to sabotage anything.

"I hope you don't mind me adding some new flavors along the plain donuts too, Hanako-kun." Nene untied the ribbon of the packaging, letting out the delicious aroma of the treats into the air.

Hanako put on a smile. "I don't mind. You make the best donuts either way."

At that, Nene became a little flustered, waving her hand. "It's all thanks to Kou-kun teaching me, though! But thanks."

Ignoring the first part (he would smh), Hanako picked the plain one, popping it into his mouth. The softness and crispiness was just right, with that toasty aftertaste.

Simply putting: it was absolutely delicious.

It was just him, Nene, and donuts. Nothing could possibly ruin this moment—

"Nene! Amane!"

Shit.

"Oh, Tsukasa-kun! Care to join us?" Hanako grimaced internally when Nene gestured for the sudden intruder to sit along with them. Tsukasa nodded vigorously, immediately tackling Nene into one of his bear hugs.

Why did he have to be here? We were in the middle of something important!

"Oooh, are those donuts? Did you make these, Nene?"

"Yeah! Would you like some?" Nene took a donut, handing it to the boy. Hanako narrowed his eyes, making sure Tsukasa didn't do anything else weird.

"Yashiro, you haven't tasted it yet. Why don't you go first? You made it after all." Hanako calmly spoke, but his face said anything but calm.

Nene blinked, confused, but nodded. "Sure. I've been wanting to try them anyways."

"Oh, oh! I'll feed you!" Tsukasa took the donut away from her hand and pointed it to her lips, which unfortunately struck a nerve with Hanako. "Say 'aah'!"

"Y-you really shouldn't... do such things so shamelessly, Tsukasa-kun..." Nene sweatdropped, embarrassed about having to be fed a donut like a little child.

Here comes Hanako to the rescue! He promptly put himself in between them and chomped down on the donut before it could reach Nene, smugly pulling away while he watched as Tsukasa's grin faltered at that.

"Amaneee!! Nene was gonna eat that!"

"Sorry." Hanako said, definitely not feeling sorry at all.

"It's okay Tsukasa-kun! I can just eat it on my own! Why don't you go first instead?" Nene handed Tsukasa another donut, which he took at last.

It was finally quiet once more. Just two ghosts, one girl, enjoying the weather, having tasty donuts. A little strange, but peaceful.

"Guess what? The vegetables me and Aoi planted long ago are ready for picking soon! They were really growing well, too!" Nene then spoke, a proud smile on her face.

"Eh? Like the radishes there?" Tsukasa wondered out loud, eyes automatically going to her legs. Nene felt her resolve crack, and a depressed aura surrounded her.

"That... was uncalled for..."

Way to go to upset her, genius. Hanako mouthed at his twin, as he tried to comfort the upset Nene, patting her head like he would. "He was just kidding, you know."

For the first time in his afterlife, Tsukasa actually felt... bad? Well, whatever it was, it rather distraught him he had upset her.

"You gotta show her that you care." Natsuhiko's words echoed somewhere in his cranium. "Give her a hug if she's feeling down."

Time to put that into action.

Nene jumped when she felt Tsukasa cling to her again, but this time, it wasn't like the usual type of hug he normally went for. In fact, it felt a little eerily similar to how Hanako had hugged her back in that time at the Confession Tree.

He pat her head, letting her head rest on his shoulder. "There, there. I'm sorry. Don't cry, okay?"

Eh? What? Nene was honestly surprised at this sudden gesture, but it wasn't like she hated it either. It was kinda nice of him to apologize, in a way.

Meanwhile, Hanako obviously wasn't taking this in too good. He was about to interfere, but then his conscience began to nag at him.

Let them be for now. It spoke to him, and as much as he hated it, he stayed put, just settling for watching over Nene while Tsukasa continued to comfort her.

Maybe it was about time for him to start being more obvious with his feelings?

One thing was for sure, he definitely had to step up his game now.

#jibaku shounen hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun #yashiro nene #hanako kun #yugi tsukasa #hananene #its small tho #mostly its #tsukanene #im so sorry #anime #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #shkkfhhxdg #i feel like #ive awaken a secret society with these #lmao

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fallenrepublick · 5 years ago

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Can I request a Feral fix-it fic where the reader is a nightsister that is secretly sympathetic and empathetic for the nightbrothers, and after she overhears Asajj's plan to use Feral as the pawn to test Savage's loyalty, she decides to flee and save him? Something like she uses the last of her magick to create a false clone of Feral that is left behind and killed by Savage instead. She knew she wouldn't be strong enough to save Savage, but she could save Feral, and luckily they aren't pursued.

Heck yeah fix-it fics! This one was soooo long, but I did what I could for you. Enjoy!

Warnings: None :)

As someone who was given such a high-stakes position in the clan on Dathomir, you wondered why exactly it was that the likes of Asajj Ventress was allowed to return to the Night Sisters without question, and begin calling for the services of your family to her personal revenge. It was tacky, tasteless to say the least. Aware of her past and unfortunate circumstances as you were, you had a difficult time grasping the concept of her sudden superiority. Serve and protect your family was what you had been taught, yet, as far as you knew, she had done virtually nothing in return for the rest of you. In fact, you were beginning to suspect that her recklessness and unchecked anger would result in all of your deaths.

Mother Talzin, on the other hand, was more than happy to provide the woman with anything she might require to exact her vengeance on the Sith lord Tyrannus. That included a Night Brother servant. To that end, Talzin had instructed Ventress to travel to the Night Brother clan in search of her victim, and to return him to her.

The Night Brothers were separated from the Sisters for reasons that, silently, you still did not understand. The way it was explained to you, they were savages, capable of only combat and breeding, but not much else. However, that answer didn’t sit well with you, and upon further investigation against the will of your sisters, you had ventured out alone one day in search of the truth. What you had found there was enough to confirm your suspicions. Talzin had either lied to you, or was, herself, misguided in her understanding. The Brothers you had come into contact with were… normal. As a Night Sister, of course, they treated you with respect, yet they held an air of certainty about them as they spoke to you that convinced you almost at once of their civilized manner of thinking.

Back in those days, you were younger and more naive, yes, but you had not ceased your contact with the clan, having made a few friends of your own, namely the brothers Savage and Feral. Attached practically at the hip, the two had been inseparable since your first encounter, as seeing one meant with complete certainty that the other was not far off. Feral was meeker, though by no means weak. His mannerisms pointed to him as the voice of reason, a sort of calm before the storm that was his sibling. Savage was the strength of the operation, fiercely protective of his younger brother and skilled in combat to boot. Though, you mainly took to asking them questions about their lives in the clan and interests, wishing to turn your thoughts and theirs away from the pastime that so many of your sisters believed to be their only personality traits.

Those two were who you worried for the most as Ventress set off to recruit one of the members of the brotherhood. Their individuality and strong connection to each other would set them as prime targets for the abandoned apprentice, a fate possibly worse than death in the tests she would submit them to.

You took off after her, taking great care not to be seen, red clothing helping you blend in to the rust-colored planet surface. Much of the planet looked the same to you, and as you had eventually found beauty within a few of the inhabitants, the monotony of the world had begun to look increasingly dull in your eyes, a certain disenchantment occurring within your opinion of your home and own family, especially after Ventress’s return had led the whole clan to kowtow to her every whim.

Your arrival at the village was not filled with the sounds of your name or the gladness that you were usually met with by the brothers who had grown quite accustomed to your presence. You had come silently, carefully, and still, the whole clan was preoccupied by Ventress, her cold steely voice sending shivers down the spines of the weakest links in the chain. From atop a building, you could see the men,lined up in rows for her to walk through and judge like an emperor looking for a suitor. Finally, you found Feral, with Savage in the row behind, keeping a watchful eye.

She would not leave without one. The games began, each level deadlier than the last. Through it all, Savage stood beside Feral, instructing him on where to move so that he would survive. You flinched at every close call that happened, your anticipation for the worst taking hold of your nerves.

What a pathetic concept.

The final level came, the floors raising, a maze entrapping those below, and a deadly pathway for those above. And thus, your worst fears were realized. The last contestants remaining were those you had never wanted playing in the first place. You knew what would happen. They would be separated, one going off with Asajj, and the other remaining here. And by careful consideration, you knew which was which.

You climbed down as the platforms lowered, Savage already being practically dragged away by the witch woman, Feral was meanwhile held back by other members of the clan. It took all you could not to just blow her up where she sat, the speeder going up in violent green flames. But if you were caught here, everyone would be doomed.

You prepared yourself to speak to Feral, to explain to him that you would be there for the two of them, if even for this small period of time. But as you came up behind him, he was being taken away, flanked on each side by one of his clan members, your opportunity was lost, while your concern only grew.

“Wait, where are they taking him?” you asked one of the Night Brothers, a similar color to that of your friends. “It was Savage that was to be taken, not him.”

The male sighed, defeat souring the words from his mouth. “The two were close. Horribly so. The woman saw that as a weakness in Savage, and now, after he’s been given new abilities by The Mother, he will be tested.”

Tested. The word hung in the air like heavy fog as you watched Feral be taken to wait for his execution at the hands of the one he trusted most. Deliberation followed. Save him and leave Savage. Save Savage and leave Feral. Could Savage even be saved at this point? The answer was unclear, circumstances being as they were. Could Feral be saved? Yes. That was all you needed.

You rounded the back, your heart pounding in your chest for fear of what might happen if you were too late. Luckily, they were still within your reach and your approach gave them pause in their tracks.

“I have to speak with him,” you said, waving the two guards away.

They hesitated, looking between each other. “Our orders were to deliver him to Mother Talzin as soon as-”

“I know what your orders were,” you hissed, your threatening tone enough to make them back up. “But now you’re being ordered to walk. away.”

Dropping Feral, they headed off, looking over their shoulder and whispering amongst themselves. Feral was on his knees, rubbing his wrists and looking down meekly. Once the guards were safely out of view, he looked up, worry and fear distorting the brown tinted tattoos, more disconnected in pattern and function than his elder brother’s.

“What are you doing?” he half-whispered as you knelt down in front of him. “If anyone found out what you were doing…” He trailed off, unsure of what the punishment for disobeying orders in this extremely specific situation would be.

“I realize what would happen, but I’m here and I can help you.” You put your hand over his, pulling him up with you to stand. “We don’t have the time for this conversation. We have to leave. Now.” When you tried to pull him with you, he pulled back his hand.

“They’ll find us. We’ll never be able to escape,” he insisted, planting his feet firmly as he could.

A sigh escaped your lips, your brow forming a tight line above your eyes as you considered your options. It was possible to disappear, though at that point you would run the risk of being chased and the probability of failure was, unfortunately, high. If only there were some way to trick the system.

Bringing your hands together, green smoke flowed silently from the cracks between your palms, and their separation emitted a soft glow that released a denser fog. Congealing, the mist formed a body, kneeling in the position that Feral was in moments ago, matching his appearances to the most minute detail.

Feral was visibly taken aback, gripping your arm in shock. “How did you-”

“We haven’t much time.” You tugged him set again, and as his stubbornness had faltered, he was pulled behind you, balance offset by the sudden motion. “They’ll return for you in a moment, and when they do, we can’t be nearby.”

As he followed you, he kept looking back at the double, which remained relatively motionless where you had left it. “It looks so… real,” he muttered as he followed you.

“As it should. I used the remainder of my arsenal to make it. I’ll have to regenerate my strength if I want to do anything useful.” You cleared platforms up to the top of the valley with Feral following close behind.

“We can’t be made invisible or… hidden?” His voice wavered, apparently relying on your abilities to comfort his nerves.

You shook your head, the strain of the climbing and running causing you to begin to heave. “We’re going to have to deal with that part ourselves.”

Eventually, you were confident in the distance you had cleared, and you paused, holding your knees with your hands and shutting your eyes, trying to will your heart rate back to a manageable position.

He turned back, the emptiness of the space behind a comforting sight to his anxiety. “Savage,” he remembered, straightening himself and looking hurriedly at you. “We have to help Savage. He’ll be there soon and if we hurry, I’m sure we could-”

“No.” You shook your head once you had calmed yourself. “We don’t have time, and if we try, you know, deep down, that we would get caught.”

“B-But we can’t just leave him there, he’ll b-be…” he stammered.

You walked up to him, putting your hands on his shoulders, peering at him with a kind gaze. “We have to go. But I swear to you, you will see him again. You will not be apart for long.”

#darth maul #savage opress #feral #fix-it

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schoolastica · 5 years ago

Text

12th birthday

In AO3!

Summary: Morgan Happy Stark-Parker is turning 12 and Tony can't believe he raised a kid until now.

Start:

12th birthday

Tony felt the mattress stiffing, shifting as he felt a small body pressing up into his back. Maybe ten years ago, that could have meant a slow, sweet loving making session with his Alpha, but in the present, today more precisely today, it only meant one thing. So Tony turned around to hug whoever was the little monster that wanted snuggle time before the others got their chance. He was surprised when he saw it was Morgan, she hadn’t done it in about 4 years. Then again, today was a special day. When he faced her, she had a curious look in her face and hugged him tightly, sniffing her daddy in search of comfort.

- Hello birthday girl- Tony hugged back and closed his eyes, just enjoying his 12-year-old daughter. -How are you feeling this morning? - He muttered.

Tony waited for an answer but Morgan just snuggled closer and scented him deeper. That started to worry him.

- Morgan?- Tony called a little bit louder and pulled her head gently so he could see her eyes.

- I can present now- Morgan’s voice sounded unsure- When do you think I will present?

- Well- Tony started to understand why all the comfort was needed, it was indeed a sore topic- It depends on who you are most like to, I presented pretty early, wasn’t even 12. Your dad was a late bloomer, he presented at his late 14’s.

Morgan stopped hugging Tony and faced the ceiling. She had grown to be a lovely lady, full-on Peter-like. Her features were soft and delicate but she had a permanent pout, brown warm eyes, tan skin (from playing so much in the sun). She was also very tall for age, she played so many sports that she had an infinite painting of bruises in her long and lean body. That came because she definitely had Tony’s spunky personality. Any activity that got even close to being “ Ladylike” made Morgan uninterested. Not that Peter and Tony cared about Lady-like things, they tried to give Morgan all the opportunities, that’s all. So they took her in Ballet. Then Gymnastics. Anything that meant dancing and funny clothes was a no-no.

She did like soccer, karate, Nerf guns, and everything in her parent’s lab (there were some incidents but she was a smart kid).

Before Tony met Peter, he thought he was a fluke and that you could tell a person’s gender by its behavior during childhood. Alphas were tough kids, they were possessive, spunky, got into fights, and liked races and trucks. Omegas were calm children, seldom falling and going towards arts and had manners and liked soft things. Betas were medium, they liked to follow a lot, they would find a best friend in kindergarten and follow it for life.

So everyone thought Tony would be an Alpha for exactly this childhood traits, he even found his Beta best friend in kindergarten: Rhodes. He was a spunky and problematic child since the beginning, he would break expensive things and Howard would beat his tiny butt raw and Maria would be the one cuddling him (in secret). He’s genius would be in mind and temper, he would fight with teeth and claws and only be scared of the impetuous figure of Howard Stark.

And when he presented as an Omega, he thought it was a fluke. He had been such a cocky 11 years old. The presentation came after your 12th birthday but Tony presented exactly on his birthday. He was so happy, he spent the whole day in bed, Maria had to cancel his party and stayed by his bedside while he howled in pain, rolled around in sweat and cried painful tears, but he was still happy, he was becoming an alpha! Until the next day, when his scent settled down and his mom frowned upon his sight. The shame that followed would be part of his memories for a long time.

Until he found Peter, an Alpha that everyone thought it was an Omega, a fluke. So really now Tony believes this is all shit. Children will behave the way they like and biology will take care of the rest.

Morgan seemed worried, more than it was normal to be.

- What do you think I will be? - She questioned, still looking at the ceiling. Tony felt Peter slightly shifting by his side, and he knew that his mate was listening, but letting them have this conversation.

- I think that you will be an amazing woman, Morgan- Tony stared at her, hoping that she would understand his feelings. She sighed. - What happened honey? That’s not like you.

- The kids in my school were telling me some stories about people that presented Omega or Beta and were expelled from their home- Morgan got her face against Tony’s chest again and her voice wavered with tears held back.

- What? Baby!- Tony sitter up and managed a 12-year-old into his lap, like he did when she was a small baby. Morgan was full-on crying now and Peter gave up staying out of the talk and also set up.

He came in Tony’s help and tried to give soothing words for his daughter. He glanced worriedly at Tony while petting Morgan’s back.

- Okay, Morgan, listen to me.- Tony whispered to her in a calm tone- Those stories are from the past. People don’t do that anymore, well, only buttheads do- Peter glared at Tony.

- There’s nothing wrong in fearing the presentation, Morgan- Peter rubbed slow circles in Morgan’s back as he talked in a slow and steady voice- But those stories are about sad, horrible times were ignorance laid bare in the world. We love you so much, we loved you since before we knew your face and our love doesn’t have a limit, baby.

Morgan’s cry had quiet down to light hiccups and now Tony was rocking her gently back and forth and her hiccups were slowly fading. She slowly took her head out of Tony’s shoulder and decided that she wanted her Alpha daddy, so she shifted towards Peter, who gladly took her and smiled at his partner. Tony felt joy then, especially watching his mate help calm their child down. When he presented, his mother had cried disappointed tears and his father haven’t even looked at him. And started treating Tony like if he was less then nothing. He never got snuggles from his mom anymore.

And he felt joy because none of his children would ever feel like it. They might feel fear, which was normal, but they would never feel ashamed or abandoned. His child was scared and she knew that coming to her parents was the right thing. And if that wasn’t a great way to show Tony that he was on the right path, then he didn’t know what it was.

After Morgan’s tears dried and her hiccups faded, Peter took her to the Penthouse kitchen to make her his “ special birthday breakfast ” like it was the tradition. They had the whole day planned and couldn’t let a day like this start like that. First, Peter would make the special breakfast and wake the kids while Tony had called Pepper, Nat, Wanda, and Vision to help set up the perfect picnic in Central Park. The birthday party would be a picnic and about 40 kids would attend it so they had work to do. Passing through the kitchen, he saw Peter finishing up the breakfast while Morgan helped him and the sleepy-looking Maria and Harley we’re watching them.

In Central Park, they organized everything. The Picnic tables had green and red tablecloths and they hang the letters “Happy Birthday Morgan” between two trees. They cleaned the leaves and set up the games for the children and set up a table with all the food that Nat brought. They also made sure that all the paparazzi were away from where the party would be. When everything was ready, Tony called Peter saying he could take the kids to the park.

Peter arrived with the kids and they all managed to look somewhat presentable (leaving Peter in charge of setting the kids up was like letting a child dress the children up). Morgan had her usual casual clothes, Maria was in all her glory in a pink soft dress while Harley was in his favorite t-shirt, a red one with an Iron Man figure, and had the saying “I am Iron Man!’ written on it. Their kids were beautiful, mind you.

Morgan was a cute kid. She was the most similar to Peter, she had her soft chin and his eyes. Completing 12 today, you could see she was going to be as tall as Tony, for she had a slim and tall body for her age. Her deep brown hair was cut short in a spunky style, never bothering itself into a bun and being almost constantly dirty. Maria also had almost nothing on Tony, she was Peter all the way down. Her hair was light brown, long and soft, permanently combed and tied with bright ribbons or held up in tiaras. Her eyes and her baby-like cheeks formed a beautiful face, similar to her older sister and Alpha, but also unique. Now, Harley, that one was something else.

Harley was Tony’s copycat, something that even frightened him a little bit. To see a picture of Tony at 6 years old and to see a picture of Harley was almost to see the same thing. Almost, and that was important. Because Tony’s childhood photos were black-and-white and presented a sad boy, clearly suffering through a bad father and hard times. And that was not Harley. Harley was an energetic 6-years-old, he smiled 24/7, and no photo of him ever presented the contrary. He was a copycat of Tony, except he was way happier, cheerful, and more looked out for.

Morgan’s eyes shone in the sight of her pretty party and as soon as the kids started to arrive, the chaos was unleashed. Tony and some parents took care of the barbecue and the other foods while Peter took care of entertaining the kids. At 31, Peter kept having energy enough to impress all the parents that saw him attracting the kids with uncountless games and songs and even some magic tricks. And so the day went on, the party was a success. The kids were having a blessing, some of them had scratched knees or sore members, but all under control. If there was any sight that the weird theory that kids behavior could say their gender, it was destroyed here. Morgan and her pals were all in for playing violent games of chase and soccer, Harley would get excited to play with his sister so he would follow her like a puppy while Maria and two of her friends played a quiet Tea Party, all pretty and sweet.

When the time to sing “ Happy Birthday ” arrived, the sun was giving the first signs of it going down. Morgan was already so dirty, but Tony managed to gather all his kids (including Peter) to get closer to the cake and help sing the song. Morgan was so excited that she blew the candles with all the strength her lungs could express and everyone cheered loudly.

In the end, all the kids left slowly, all with a tired face, sore knees, and full stomachs. With the help of all the adults there they managed to clean things up while an exhausted Harley slept in the grass near them and Morgan and Maria enjoyed the last pieces of cake they could have. Tony took Maria in his arms and Peter took Harley and they both held each of Morgans’ hands and took them back to the Penthouse. They thought about showering the kids but they were so tired that they just put them in their beds and let them drift off to deeper sleep. Tony put Harley into his bed and just looked at his soft face, feeling his calming scent and just for the fact he existed.

When Tony finally got up from the little’s bed, he noticed Peter in the doorway, watching them. Peter moved silently and kissed Tonylightly. They hugged each other in the darkroom, only illuminated by the light from the hallway, and they just breathed each other scents for a while.

- If you ask for anther kid right now, I’ll punch you babe- Tony muttered. Peter snorted a laugh.

- Nah, I was just thinking how lucky I am.- Peter’s voice was full of joy.

- How so?- Tony questioned. Peter sighed and hugged him tightly.

- I mated with my teenage crush- Tony wasn’t sure, but Peter seemed to be blushing- I mated with my teenage crush, and our eldest child just turned 12. Im the luckiest person in the world.- And now Peter’s voice was shaky with what Tony bet was tearing. The kid was so weak sometimes, pfff.

But Tony couldn’t complain at all, especially when his eyes were moist. Yeah, they were lucky. Peter had his teenage crush and Tony, he had a new beginning. All his suffering, all life had thrown on him, all made sense if he got Peter Parker at the end of the night. So they retired to bed, holding each other close and preparing for their morning routine. In the early days, they could enjoy the quiet night together, but they were both dead tired. Instead, they got to cuddle and talk until they drifted off to sleep.

Of course, everything turned different in the morning.

#starker #starker au #stark-parker family #fluff

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eddiesasspbrak · 5 years ago

Text

When I’m With You Ch. 18

Eddie can’t stand the barista at his favorite coffee shop. Richie has fallen in love with the man he sees twice a week. Stan is dating someone but won’t let his friends meet them. Ben is in love with Beverly, but is so afraid of scaring her away he’s not moving forward. Chaotic friends navigating college together.

(this is only half the chapter I’ll upload the second half as ch19 when it’s finished)

Ch. 1

Read on AO3

2k+ words

Eddie woke to a pounding in his head, the sunlight streaming through the windows stinging his eyes and making his head throb. He felt achy and for good reason. Richie was curled up beside him, his arm thrown over his chest, his legs tangled with Eddie’s beneath the covers. All of the events of the night before came flooding back. Monica, Bryce, Richie possibly breaking Bryce’s nose, going back to Eddie’s place and then…

He could practically still feel Richie inside of him and it made him shiver.

He certainly hadn’t been planning to lose his virginity the night before but a combinations of lowered inhibitions, his honor being defended in a show of masculinity Eddie had not yet seen from Richie and the way Richie could make him feel with the way he kissed and his hands…

Eddie felt too sick to let just the memory of his night with Richie get him all hot and bothered again. His streak of never being hung over had officially ended. He felt terrible and was sure that if he moved even an inch he’d puke all over the floor and he was not in the mood to clean up that mess. He was perfectly content to spend the rest of the morning lying beside Richie, curled up in his arms basking the fact that someone loved him. Maybe Richie would be in better shape and would be able to fetch water and aspirin from the kitchen.

It wasn’t until the pounding in his head became actual pounding from somewhere close by, that he forced himself to wiggle out from underneath Richie’s arm and drag himself to his feet. The pain in his head spiked as he moved to an upright position and his head spun for just a second, not long enough to make his stomach churn. Still, he walked carefully to the door, grabbing the hoodie he’d nabbed from Richie’s closet when he was there alone and his boxer briefs, stumbling as he stepped into them. Once out the hall he became very aware that the pounding was coming from his own front door.

He should have checked his phone. As far as he knew, his friends wouldn’t be coming over but if they had they surely would have texted first. Of course, he imagined they were all still asleep or nursing similar hangovers. He couldn’t quite remember how loud they’d been the night before, but he was certain he’d die if it was a neighbor coming to complain about the noise. Maybe it was the splitting headache, but the pounding definitely sounded angry.

Eddie wasn’t really sure what to do or say when he opened the door but he wasn’t feeling well and was honestly getting annoyed that his nice, sick, morning with Richie had been interrupted so he unlocked the door the threw it open more violently than he intended. His anger melted away as soon as he saw the very red face staring back at him.

“Mom.” His voice was laced with shock and maybe a bit of fear. He’d forgotten. How could he have forgotten that she was showing up to check on him? He smelled like alcohol and smoke. The remnants of fixing up Richie sat on the coffee table, the ice pack still on the couch. He was half naked, wearing Richie’s hoodie that smelled strongly of his cologne.

Richie…he was still naked in his bed blissfully unaware that Sonia Kaspbrak was there and likely to wander out without putting anything on. At the very least he hoped he’d slip his briefs back on. He could explain away a friend who’d slept over and chose to sleep in his briefs. He could not explain away a completely naked man his mother had never seen before stumbling out of his room.

“Finally! You knew I was arriving his morning Eddie, what were you doing that kept me waiting so long?” She didn’t wait for a response as she pushed past him.

“I was still in bed…” He closed the door quietly, trying to reduce any noise that might have woken Richie.

She whirled around to face him, abandoning her inspection of the mess on the table. “This late? You never sleep this late! You’re not sick are you?”

She was on him in seconds, holding his shoulder with one hand and pressing the back of her other hand to his forehead. He tried to pull from her hold, but her fingers were like a vice around his arm.

“I’m fine. I was just up late last night…” partying, drinking copious amounts of alcohol, watching my boyfriend punch out a guy I gave a hand job to a year ago and then letting him fuck me on the white sheets you bought for me… “studying.”

“You need to sleep at night and wake up early! I’ve told you that being a night owl is bad for you I don’t know how many times. I knew that letting you move out was a bad idea.”

“I’m fine. It was one night. I’m usually in bed by eight.” Less so since he’d started seeing Richie, but she didn’t need to know that.

“This place is a mess, Eddie. You stayed up late, slept late when you knew I was arriving today, and didn’t even cleanup for my visit. And what is that you’re wearing? It’s awfully ugly. Those two pandas almost appear to be a compromising position. Tell me you don’t wear that outside.”

“No mom. I don’t.” He would now.

“What about your pants? You aren’t supposed to sleep without pants, you’ll catch a cold!”

An escape paved its way in front of him. “You’re right. I’ll go grab some and change my shirt and we can go for breakfast.”

Before she could agree or argue, he was off down the hall, regretting the fast pace as soon as it hit his stomach and still throbbing head. Once in his room, he closed the door and flipped the lock behind him just in case she followed him in spouting “I used to change your diapers and give you baths! It’s nothing I haven’t seen!”

Richie was still asleep, spread out across the bed completely unaware of the panic that was taking over. Eddie crossed the room and sat on the bed on his knees, gently shaking his shoulder. “Hey, Rich, wake up.” He said in a low voice.

Richie began to stir, and a smile spread across his face while his arm snaked around Eddie’s waste. In a flash, he was on his back, pulling Eddie down on top of him. Eddie bit back the yelp of surprise that nearly left his lips.

“Good morning. Is this a sexy wake up call?” Richie asked, running a hand down his back and then back up underneath the hoodie.

“Not even a little bit and keep your voice down.”

Richie was fully awake now, reaching for his glasses on the side table and sliding them on. “Everything ok?” He asked when he could properly see Eddie’s face.

“My mom is here.”

“Oh…oh shit.”

“I forgot she was coming to visit, and she can’t see you in here. I’m going to take her out to breakfast so you can sneak out when we’ve gone.”

“Yea, ok. I can do that. I thought she likes to inspect every inch of your apartment.”

“She does but if I tell her I’m starving I think I can get her to wait until we return.” It crossed his mind that he really should shower first but he needed to get Richie out as soon as possible before she stubbled across him and freaked out.

“Ok. Shit. Can you like slam the door extra loud when you leave so I know you’re gone?”

‘’Yes, absolutely. Just wait like five minutes afterward to be sure.” Richie nodded and released Eddie, allowing him to roll off and sit beside him instead. “I’m sorry. I would tell her if I could. As soon as I’m not financially dependent on her I will. I promise.”

Richie leaned forward, cupping the back of Eddie’s head and pulling him into a chaste kiss. “I know. Don’t worry about it. Get going and I’ll be gone when you get back.”

Eddie leaned in for one more quick kiss before jumping up and dressing, dowsing himself in deodorant and cologne to mask anything else she might smell on him. He traded the hoodie for a sweater from his closet instructing Richie to leave it behind because it was his now. When he came back out, sliding through a small crack between the door and frame to hide the inside and then quickly closing it behind him, he found his mother going through his pantry and fridge like he’d known she would.

As quickly as he could, he ushered his mom out the door, slamming the door just a bit harder than he normally would. They walked to a nearby diner and had a fairly pleasant breakfast peppered with his mother criticizing his food choices and asking overly intrusive questions about his life no mother should ever ask. By the time they returned to the building he was exhausted. He hadn’t eaten much, the syrup-soaked pancakes and coffee slightly easing the headache but doing nothing for his stomach. He was sure Richie was out of his apartment by then and it was safe to enter so he didn’t attempt to stall. All he wanted was to sit on his couch and put his feet up, maybe nap while she tore apart his apartment looking for anything incriminating.

Sonia was still going on about how he was too thin because he didn’t eat enough when Eddie opened the front door to the building and nearly crashed face first into none other than Richie.

“Sorry…I…” Richie began, unsure what to say.

Eddie paused for too long weighing how he should act and the consequences of each. If he pretended not to know him he risked hurting Richie and he really didn’t think he could pull it off believably. If he let it be known that he knew him, his mother would immediately start judging him and asking questions and Eddie wasn’t sure he could take that. Needing to decide, he went for it despite a big part of him screaming not to. “Richie. Hi. Heading out?”

��Oh, uh, yea. Pharmacy. I’m out of aspirin.”

“Who’s this?” His mom asked on cue.

“This is Richie. He lives down the hall and goes the same school. We have some common friends.” He explained, trying not to be too specific on their personal relationship. “Richie, this is my mom.”

“Oh, wow, Ms. Kaspbrak, nice to meet you.” Richie was visibly flustered as he stuck a hand out to shake hers.

“It’s Mrs.” She sneered, taking hold of his hand with two fingers for a very short ‘I don’t want to touch you’ type shake. “My husband being dead does not stop me from being a wife.”

“Right, yea of course. Sorry.” Richie looked to Eddie with panic in his eyes. He hadn’t been expecting to meet her and definitely not this way.

Eddie wasn’t sure but he thought parents were supposed to meet your partner at a planned dinner or event. Maybe a holiday party or birthday party. Kind of like how he’d met Rose and Kara. Sure, it was kind of impromptu and they weren’t really Richie’s family, but they were close enough and Richie had taken him there with the knowledge they’d likely meet. They also weren’t like Eddie’s mom, judgmental and hateful toward anyone that he interacted with. No one was good enough in her eyes but in Eddie’s, they were all perfect. Especially Richie. The way she was treating him now made his stomach hurt from more than just the hangover.

Wanting to say something in Richie’s defense, Eddie searched his mind for the right words that wouldn’t anger her. “Richie works at my favorite coffee shop. He makes amazing coffee and bakes a lot of the treats they sell.” He was trying to talk him up and even though he really didn’t want her to know him, really didn’t want him exposed to her, he couldn’t fight that desire to have a normal experience of a parents meeting a partner. So, he let his heart win over his brain. “Maybe we could go there, and you can see for yourself!”

Richie’s face was a mask of shock and what Eddie could only assume was the fight or flight instinct working its way across his features. The café was supposed to be closed that day, but Bill had texted while he was at breakfast to say they had only closed for the morning and he had misunderstood. He and Mike had to drag themselves out of bed and try not to show how hungover they were. Richie wasn’t needed but he was sure Bill or Mike would have texted him as well. He felt for them, but it was an excuse to get his mom and Richie in a neutral zone where she wouldn’t (most likely) make a scene. Eddie turned to his mother, who was still sizing up Richie with a look of distaste. He knew her instinct was to say no, but he also knew how much she loved sweets and pastries.

“We just had coffee at breakfast.” She finally spoke.

“Only one cup and you didn’t finish yours.” He countered. Why he was pushing it instead of letting her say no, he wasn’t sure. His body had been taken over and the real Eddie was inside his mind berating him for being such an idiot and screaming to end this now. Take her back up to the apartment, let her inspect everything and she’ll leave in the morning! It could all be over quickly without incident but maybe Eddie was just desperate for his mother to approve of the man he loved. Maybe he was an idiot who thought she might change her ways if he tried hard enough to show her who Richie was and how good he was. “We can get it to go.” Was his final attempt.

Richie still stood silent, holding the door open, frozen in place and unsure of what to do. This was not what they had discussed. This was no supposed to happen and he felt blindsided. On the other hand, he also really wanted Eddie’s mom to like him because he had no intention of ending that relationship anytime soon. Of course, he also knew the way she treated Eddie and his friends and part of him hoped that Eddie would get up the nerve to stand up to her. He wanted Eddie to be happy and the anxiety she caused him was going to stand in the way. He had a good relationship with his own parents though they were far away now, and it was hard to visit. Then he’d found temporary replacement parents in the from of Rose and Kara. Eddie didn’t have that. All he had was Sonia and her constant judging of his life and choices. He’d heard already of her convincing Eddie he was always sick as a child. He wasn’t allowed to go anywhere, do anything, he was afraid to step out of line because who knew what she’d take away next. So, Richie couldn’t help hating her and fearing her. Hating her for the way she treated the love of his life and fearing what she’d do if she knew the truth about their relationship.

So, Richie made a choice. He straightened his back, head held high, pushing down the nausea that followed and he smiled. “I think that’s a great idea. I’ll treat.” He said clearly and maybe a bit too cheerfully.

With both boys staring at her expectantly and her desire for something sweet winning over, Sonia reluctantly agreed. Though she wouldn’t be happy about it.

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it (2017)#it (2019)#Ro writes

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