#i know it’s not supposed to be like a test | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

uncannydevotion · 3 days ago

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a/n: i've been thinking abt this request a lot lately so i've decided to finally write it. only took me two million years <3

includes: ticci toby, the bloody painter, x-virus, and homicidal liu.

warnings: not proofread i am writing this all in one sitting let's hope it's good, attempted murder against the reader in toby's part, angst! :jazz hands:, injuries, blood, panic attack in toby's part?? kinda?? you could call it that or you could say slender was doin some weird shit to his head, mentions of murder, mentions of past bullying, stalking, helen's kinda obsessed, unhealthy relationships, dead parents, needles, whatever the fuck cody injects into people, very morally ambiguous reader in cody's part, brief but slightly descriptive murder, randy is a warning i guess, mentions of fire, mentions of near death experiences, cigarettes, a gun, sully points a gun at reader but there's no real attempt of murder, a test to see how much i remember jeff's story cause i am Not rereading it it's 3am as im writing this.

TICCI TOBY

You really don't know what had compelled you to go into the forest so late at night. No... no, that's a lie. You do know. You knew exactly what had brought you to this forest.

Maybe you were crazy but you could've sworn you had seen your childhood friend at the edge of the forest near the cemetery the other night. It's so stupid, you knew that.

He's been missing for years now, classified as on the run after brutally killing his father, but you just... you had to know.

That's why you had entered the forest that night. No one else would be around, but... you really should've thought ahead, honestly. You should've brought a pocket knife, or some mace, or anything.

But how were you supposed to know that you would end up getting chased through the woods by a fucking crazy guy with hatchets? You don't even know where he came from, he just threw one of the hatchets at you and narrowly missed!

Consider yourself lucky, or whatever, but he seemed fairly determined to kill you.

You hid behind a thick tree, taking a moment to catch your breath. You're not sure how deep in the forest you had gone, but the area was starting to look familiar, so you assumed that you were getting close to the cemetery connected to the town.

But he was catching up to you, and fast. It's not like you could just fight him off, he had the advantage with, y'know, the hatchets.

Quick thinking is what leads to you grabbing a fairly sturdy branch from the ground. It was heavy, but you didn't have the luxury of caring about that right now as you pressed your back against the tree, forcing yourself to steady your breathing.

The sound of tongue clicking was familiar, and it grew closer and closer. You could hear leaves and twigs being stepped on. Cautiously, you took a glance around the tree. The man's back was turned towards you, but he was looking around.

Looking for you.

You knew this was the one chance you had, so you tried to be extra quiet as you approached him, raising the branch up high and using all your strength to knock him over the head with it.

The man falls to his knees, and as soon as he dropped his hatchets, you dropped the branch and snatched the weapons away, throwing them somewhere deeper in the forest just so he wouldn't be able to use them to hurt you.

Now, you knew you should've ran. He was no longer a threat, but... the tics, the way he didn't react to the pain of getting hit over the head like you thought he would've... he seemed dizzy, sure, but he was bleeding. He wasn't clutching his head, he wasn't hissing in pain.

It was all familiar, and it reminded you of...

"Toby?" You sounded breathless, chest heaving as you stared down at him.

His head shot up at the sound of his name, and behind his cracked goggles, you can see the way his eyes widened. Even though most of his face was concealed, you could see the...

Fear? Confusion? You're not sure what emotion it was, but it was so evident in the way he recoils from you when you reach out to him.

"Toby... what-" You couldn't even get another word out before he was interrupting you.

"No! No. No. I don't kn–click–know you." His voice cracked as he spoke, and he sounded pained. Not from the injury you had given him, but... as if there were something else.

You really don't know what's happening, all you knew was that the man you had considered to be your best friend when you were younger had just tried killing you, and is acting as if he doesn't know you.

No... not acting. His confusion, the lack of recognition, it was all real.

You couldn't get another word in before he was breaking down, clutching his head as if something was screaming inside it, "I don't know you! I don't know you!"

The pure agony in his voice had you stumbling back. Clearly, your presence wasn't helping him. Guilt clawed at your insides, and even though you didn't want to leave him like this, even though you wanted to figure out what had happened all those years ago, you knew you had no choice.

You stumbled out of the forest, the sound of Toby screaming echoing around you.

And though it was faint, you swore you heard static as well.

THE BLOODY PAINTER

Being friends with Helen had been hard, even before he killed almost the entirety of his class. He rarely ever spoke to you, and half of the time you wondered if he even thought of you as his friend.

You stood up for him against people like Judy and Ban, but there was only so much you could do.

There was one memory that you always thought of, even after you had grown up. It was the night before the school's Halloween party, and you had dropped by Helen's house to get his help on picking out a costume.

He had seemed... really distracted, that night. He wasn't fully there. When you asked him if he was okay, he just...

"Promise me that you'll stay my friend, no matter what happens."

It had caught you off guard, but you had made the promise. The next night, he killed his classmates before your parents dropped you off at the school. You didn't see him after that, because your parents refused to let you associate with him.

And now, years later, something was wrong.

You had heard from Helen's mother, months ago, that he had been released from the institution he had been in, apparently no longer a danger to himself or others, but he just...

Disappeared. Cut all contact.

And shortly after his release, you heard from an old friend that Judy and Maggie, two of the few classmates that had survived the massacre, had gone missing, along with the other three survivors.

Something deep down in your gut told you that it was Helen. When the bodies of the missing had been found inside of Helen's childhood home, you just knew.

You should've gone to the police, really, but it's not like they didn't already know. There was a manhunt out for Helen the moment the bodies were found, but he was long gone.

It's not like you had to be worried or anything, right? You were in a completely different state, living in a large city. You haven't spoken to him since you were kids, and it's not like he knew where you were at, right?

Well, you were wrong, apparently.

When the stalking started, you didn't want to believe it was Helen. I mean, seriously, why would he want anything to do with you? Unless...

You didn't want to think about it, but... he had gone back and killed all the survivors of his original massacre. And... you were technically a survivor, if only because you were late to the party. He didn't plan on killing you, did he?

Though, that fear was quickly squashed when he started leaving you gifts. They were nothing major, mostly sketches of you. They weren't signed, but you knew who they were from.

The feeling of eyes on you was something you just couldn't get used to, and you swear you started seeing him when you were out in the city.

You wanted to go to a bookstore? Helen was across the street. Taking a walk in the park? You swear you saw him sitting on a bench, sketching.

It felt as if you were going insane, honestly.

You... you really should have gone to the police, you think, when you got home one night to find your roommate hanging from the ceiling, their neck slit and their blood painted all over the walls.

In your roommates blood, on your wall, a heart was painted, followed by a question mark. Was this... a love confession? Was he asking if you loved him?

When you took a step back, towards the front door, you had bumped right into him. He was on you in an instant, and his hand covered your mouth to prevent your scream from being heard by anyone.

"Shh... I'm not going to hurt you. We made a promise, remember?"

X-VIRUS

Living at an orphanage had never been easy. You still remember the day you first arrived. Your parents had both died, and you had pretty much closed yourself away from everyone, refusing to interact with any of the other kids.

The caretakers had been concerned, especially when the other kids had started picking on you for being quiet and 'weird'.

In comes Cody, a kid your age with absolutely no filter and no regard for what was considered right or wrong. To this day, you still don't know what it was about you that made him hang around, but the moment he got to the orphanage, he was by your side almost all the time.

Whenever one of the other kids messed with you, they'd always end up getting injured in some way because of Cody.

Cody was the only person you were willing to speak to, other than the caretakers. He brought you out of your shell, and made you laugh with his stupid, poor-timed jokes. You even became his nurse, essentially, patching up his wounds whenever he got into fights over you.

The day he was adopted was the worst day of your life, you think. It's the first time you cried since your parents died, and you remember clinging onto him, begging him not to leave you.

It was a pretty embarrassing memory, to be honest.

You weren't as lucky as Cody had been. No family was interested in adopting you, and you ended up aging out of the orphanage. Life never got better for you, even after you left the orphanage.

You didn't have many friends, and your coworkers all tended to avoid you because of how apathetic you were. Truth be told, you didn't have any interest in anything.

Every single day, from the moment Cody had been taken from you, was literal hell in your mind. The loneliness, the constant doubts, the self-loathing, everything. It was so much. Almost too much, at times.

But that all changed when you were walking back to your dingy apartment one night after a late shift. You lived in a fairly unsafe area, but the rent was cheap, so you couldn't complain.

Walking by an alleyway, something caught your attention.

It was cliché, honestly. You didn't care if anyone might have been in trouble, but a morbid curiosity got the better of you when you heard someone crying for help.

Taking a stroll down the alleyway, you reached the end and saw something you truly weren't expecting. A man was laying on the ground, a headwound visible while another man stood over him, fiddling with a needle and some sort of liquid you didn't recognize.

"Would you shut up? There's nobody around to hear you,"

That... that voice...

Your eyes widened, but not because you just witnessed some poor guy get injected with a suspicious liquid.

The injured man starts gasping, and foaming at the mouth. Your eyes meet, and he reaches out to you, croaking for help. You just stand there, watching as the man died.

And when you look up, you meet the gaze of the man who killed him. But you weren't scared. You should be, you knew that, but you weren't.

Cody pulls down the mask he was wearing. He doesn't seem at all surprised to see you, almost as if he knew you had been watching.

"Miss me?" He asks. He was smiling, as if he hadn't just killed someone. So many questions were swirling in your mind, but the only thing you could really focus on was the fact that Cody was here, in front of you.

For the first time in years, you smile.

"Yeah."

HOMICIDAL LIU

When a new family moved in next door with two boys close to your age, your parents had practically forced you to go over and introduce yourself to them, trying to get you to make friends.

You weren't at all interested, but you also didn't want to get in trouble, so once they had settled in, you went with them to be neighborly.

Liu and Jeff were the names of the kids. Liu was the older one, only a few months younger than you, and as mean as it was, you were definitely more interested in hanging out with Liu more than his little brother.

It's not that you hated him or anything like that, but... you were a kid, y'know? The thought of hanging out with someone younger than you, even if only by three years, was weird. It's something you felt guilty about now, as an adult, but it's not like you could change the past.

Besides, you and Liu weren't even friends. Not when you two had first met, at least.

You walked to school with him, and you had a few classes together at school, but you already had your own group of friends, and you just weren't interested in making any new ones.

It wasn't until his brother started to get bullied that you two started to develop a bond. You were one of the few people who didn't tolerate Randy's bullshit, so you never hesitated to stand up for Jeff when you were around.

Liu liked that about you.

When he had gotten arrested after falsely confessing to beating up Randy and his goons, you did your best to protect Jeff while he was gone.

To this day, you can't help but blame yourself for everything that happened. The day Jeff had been lit on fire, you had been stuck at home because of the flu. You still remember the scream of pure agony you heard from his mother next door when she got the call.

There were many things you wish you had done differently back then, but alas. Time marched forward.

As far as you knew, Liu died that night Jeff brutally killed his entire family, and you made sure to visit his grave whenever you had time to spare.

Today was one of those days. The sky was filled with clouds, and you had bought some flowers.

Everyone in town viewed the Woods family in a negative light because of the terror Jeff had caused, and still continues to cause to this day, so their graves don't get taken care of.

You do the best you can, but it's hard to prevent neighborhood kids from vandalizing the grave every other week.

But you were pleasantly surprised to find someone sitting behind Liu's tombstone, smoking a cigarette. You had thought that maybe it was an estranged family member, maybe, but as you approached, you couldn't help but notice that the scarf around their neck was eerily similar to the one Liu had gotten a few weeks before his death.

"Uhm, hello?" You call out, curious as to who this visitor could possibly be.

You did not expect for a gun to be pointed at you.

You blink, staring at the gun for a moment, too bewildered to register the fact that you should probably be scared. Hell, you didn't even have much of a chance to register the gun before you found yourself more distracted by the person holding it.

He looked... eerily familiar.

The scarf. The scars littered across his face, on his neck. They reminded you of the reports you read about the wounds Liu had sustained before dying in the hospital.

It was stupid. There's no way it's actually him. No way. He didn't even seem to recognize you. He had a fucking gun pointing at you, for crying out loud!

This was not Liu.

So why did he feel like him?

"...Liu?"

Your voice caused his gaze to change. The gun lowered slightly, his brows pinching together. And in a split second, it's as if he was a different person entirely, the way his eyes widened in recognition.

His gaze dropped to the gun that he had been pointing at you, and he looked absolutely mortified, dropping it and the cigarette he had been smoking.

"I can explain." He says, but he honestly seemed just as lost as you were.

...It was going to be a long night.

#requests from the old blog.#creepypasta x reader #ticci toby x reader #the bloody painter x reader #x virus x reader #homicidal liu x reader

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toomuchbirth · 2 days ago

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Birth Quickie 1:

Library

Your best friend and you were studying. They clearly were anxious about the upcoming test, their leg constantly bouncing, constantly shifting uncomfortably, closing their eyes to center themselves, taking deep, steadying breaths.

You kept trying to calm them down. "We're gonna figure this out. It's not even a super important test. I know you've been struggling in class, but you've been working really hard for this, and you're so smart." They smiled at you, their eyes warm and thankful, but their mouth seemed drawn sharply, strained. You knew all you could do is be there for them, but it still hurt seeing how hard of a time they were having.

The library was empty so far as you could tell, the only sounds their heavy breathing and little calming hums, and the turning of pages. Then their eyes snapped open. "Oh. Oh fuck. Fuck!" You were alarmed, confused. "Hey, what's wrong? What happened?"

Their hands were pressed flat on the table, and you noticed how bad the sweating had gotten, their shirt soaked around their neck, running down their face like they'd been running a marathon. Their chest was heaving and they clearly were fighting themselves to not freak out.

Finally, they managed to gather themselves enough to answer you. "I'm having a baby."

Of course, you were shocked. "Oh my God. You're... Pregnant?" Closing their eyes again, they shook their head. "No! I'm having a baby." Their hands curled into fists. "I'm having it." Their face started to redden, their teeth were grit. "I can feel it, fuck!"

You couldn't think of a reply. You scooted back, looked under the table. Their legs were spread. Their crotch was soaked. As you saw their legs trembling, a small bulge began to form between their legs. Oh god. Oh god, that couldn't be. They don't even look like they have a belly!

A blast of breath came from above you, and you came back up. "I don't know what to do! This wasn't supposed to happen, I had time! Was gonna have it in my room and then just pretend it never happened. Nobody was supposed to know! Fuck... Oh god it just won't stop... I'm not ready, I can't have a baby!"

Their back arched, they grabbed the sides of the chair. Chin tucked and feet on tip-toes, the bulge between their legs grew... Grew... A gush of fluid and a whispered "Fuck!" Erupted, the bulge suddenly growing, but they didn't stop. You saw more movement. Then more fluid forming a puddle in the chair, on the floor. The bulge became bagging, soaking wet fabric as your best friend sagged in exhaustion in their chair.

"God... I can't... I can't even..." They were clearly completely spent. "Just... G-go home... Ok? Promise me you won't tell anybody. Ok? If word got out... If my family found out, or God forbid Him... You just can't tell anyone, never even mention it to me again. Ok?"

You notice they haven't pulled their pants down, made any effort to comfort the baby they just birthed into the world... Watery cries of a newborn start to come from under the table, yet the silence outside of that is so heavy, so loud...

#pregnancy #labor #birth #crowning #unwanted pregnancy #panty birth #clothing birth #forced birth #public birth #birth kink

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growthhyp · 3 days ago

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The Transforming Cum II

Chris leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his now impossibly broad chest. His shirt was long gone, shredded during his transformation into a walking god of muscle. Across from him, Zayne stood similarly shirtless, his body still rippling with the aftershocks of what had just happened to him.

“Well,” Chris said, his voice dripping with that trademark cockiness they both seemed to share now. “Looks like we’re in this together.”

Zayne ran a hand down his abs, still marveling at the impossible hardness of them. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He had been the one in control, the one pulling the strings. And yet here he was, transformed. Just like Chris. He glanced up, catching Chris’s smirk.

“You think it’s funny?” Zayne asked, though there was no real malice in his tone. How could there be? He felt… amazing. Strong. Unstoppable.

“I think it’s fucking perfect,” Chris replied. “We’re not just stronger now. We’re better. Think about it, Zayne. We can do more than just transform ourselves. We can change others. Make them better too.”

Zayne’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Chris stepped closer, his towering frame blocking out the light. “Our… essence.” He gestured vaguely downward. “It changes people. You saw what it did to you. What if we used that? Spread it. Imagine a world where every man is strong. Healthy. Confident. No more weakness. No more sickness.”

The idea hung between them for a moment, heavy with possibility. Zayne’s mind raced. He had always wanted to help people. That’s why he’d started experimenting with hypnosis in the first place. But this… this was something else entirely. Dangerous. Exhilarating.

“And how exactly would we do that?” Zayne asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear Chris say it.

Chris grinned, slow and wicked. “Same way I changed you.”

The silence stretched, thick with unspoken understanding. Finally, Zayne nodded. “Alright. Let’s test it.”

---

They found Jonathan at the park, sitting on a bench, his breathing labored as he tried to recover from the short walk from his car. At 33 years old, 6’1”, and pushing 300 pounds, he was the picture of poor health. His heart condition made even the simplest tasks daunting. He looked up as Chris and Zayne approached, their sheer presence demanding attention.

“Uh… can I help you?” Jonathan asked, his voice uncertain.

Chris smiled, all charm and confidence. “Actually, we’re here to help you.”

Jonathan blinked. “Me? What are you talking about?”

Zayne stepped forward, his voice smooth, hypnotic. “We can see you’re struggling, Jonathan. Your body… it’s holding you back. But it doesn’t have to be that way. We can help you become stronger. Healthier. The man you were always meant to be.”

Jonathan stared at them, confusion etched across his face. “How?”

Chris exchanged a glance with Zayne before nodding. “Trust us,” Chris said, his voice low and commanding. “All you have to do is relax.”

Jonathan hesitated, but there was something about the pair in front of him—something magnetic. Before he knew it, he was nodding slowly. “Okay…”

Zayne moved closer, kneeling in front of Jonathan so their eyes were level. His voice dropped to a whisper, each word laced with power. “Look into my eyes, Jonathan. Focus on my voice. Let everything else fade away.”

Jonathan’s gaze locked onto Zayne’s, his breathing evening out as he fell under the spell. Zayne continued, his words weaving through Jonathan’s mind like a serpent. “You want to feel strong. Healthy. Powerful. Imagine your body changing, the fat melting away, replaced by pure muscle. Feel the strength surging through you, the vitality, the confidence.”

As Zayne spoke, Chris watched intently, his own excitement growing. He could see it happening—the flicker of change in Jonathan’s expression, the subtle shift in his posture. It was working.

“Now,” Zayne said, his voice dropping even lower, almost sinful. “When Chris gives you his gift, you will accept it fully. Open yourself to the transformation. Let it consume you.”

Chris didn’t wait. He stepped forward, his movements deliberate as he unbuckled his pants. Jonathan’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t protest. Couldn’t protest. Zayne’s hold on him was absolute.

Chris gripped himself, already hard, and stepped closer. “Open wide,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Jonathan obeyed without hesitation, his mouth parting slightly. Chris smirked, stepping closer until he was right in front of Jonathan. With a low groan, he released, his seed spilling into Jonathan’s waiting mouth.

The effect was immediate. Jonathan’s body jerked, his muscles spasming as the transformation began. His skin tightened, his frame expanding as fat was replaced by pure muscle. His shirt strained against his chest, buttons popping off as his pecs swelled. His gut disappeared, replaced by a set of abs that looked like they’d been chiseled from stone.

Chris stepped back, admiring their work. “Look at him,” he said, his voice tinged with awe. “He’s perfect.”

Zayne nodded, a smile playing on his lips. “It worked. It really worked.”

Jonathan gasped, his hands flying to his chest as he felt the changes wrack his body. His breathing was steady now, his heart pounding not from strain, but from raw energy. He looked up at them, his eyes wide with shock and something else—gratitude.

“What… what happened to me?” he asked, his voice stronger now, richer.

Chris clapped a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder, the weight of it grounding. “We made you better, Jon bigger stronger healthier confident what next?

#hypnotised #jockification #muscle morph #muscle growth stories

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atleastpleasetelephone · 2 days ago

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It feels so right

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for absolutely ages. This scenario is referenced in Chapter 10 of Little Darling - so this could well be the same Elvis as in that universe 👀

Pairing: 60s!Elvis x Christian!Reader

TWs: Anal sex, blow job, anal fingering, dry humping.

You’re surprised but pleased that it’s you that Elvis picks from the crowd to come back to the party at Graceland with him, after the press conference. The party itself is boring, lots of people you don’t know, all drinking soft drinks and playing pool. Elvis hasn’t said a single word to you, and you’re just thinking about making your excuses to leave when you hear a soft southern drawl from behind you.

“Hey darlin’, how’re ya enjoyin’ the party?”

You spin around and see him standing there, his hair defying gravity, blue eyes staring right into yours, a crooked grin on his face.

“Well I’m enjoying it a lot more now,” you tell him. “I thought you’d never come and talk to me.”

The grin gets bigger, spreads across his face like the Cheshire Cat. He takes you in, looking you up and down. Noticing how your dress clings to your curves. His gaze lands on the gold cross hanging down just above your breasts. A good Christian girl, too.

“Well I’m sorry to have left it so long before I did. You’re awful pretty.”

You snort. He sounds like he’s laying the Southern charm bit on a little thick. You take a step towards him and put your hand on top of his on the side of the pool table.

“What kept you so long?”

His eyes flick to your lips and then back up to your eyes. He’s already thinking about kissing you.

“Nothing that was worth it. Ya wan’ a tour?” He inclines his head towards the door.

You feel his thumb stroking the base of yours.

“Sure. Why not?”

He grins in response, flipping his hand around and enclosing your fingers in it.

“Let’s go.”

He looks at Charlie on his way out of the room with you, mouthing “good night,” at the other man. Charlie knows how to take a hint.

You’re in the kitchen together when you decide to take matters into your own hands.

“When do we get to tour upstairs?”

Elvis blushes. Obviously he knew this was where things were headed, but your forwardness puts him off-balance. He wonders if women have fundamentally changed in the two years he’s been away in the army.

“As soon as ya like, honey.”

You smile, taking in his slightly flushed cheeks. He’s cuter than you imagined he would be. You suppose you’d always thought he’d be some kind of lothario. A little more confident, smug even. But here he is, blushing in his own kitchen because you mentioned upstairs.

“Let’s go now.”

“Sure.”

He leads you up the huge staircase, and then into his bedroom. Stops the pretence of it being a guided tour and turns to kiss you as soon as the door is closed. His lips are soft and pillowy, his tongue gently persistent.

When he pulls back it’s you who’s blushing a little. You put your purse down by the bed and look around.

“I like it. I like the bed too.”

His slightly cocky grin is back, and he walks you over to his big bed in the middle of the room. You sit down together.

“Ya wanna see if ya like the mattress?”

You grin and nod and he kisses you again, his hand slipping down to your hip, pulling you with him as he lies down with a bump. You both come up for air, giggling.

“I like it,” you tell him, kicking your shoes off and scooching further onto the bed. “But I think we should test it properly.”

He doesn’t waste any time, half-rolling on top of you, hands running over your breasts, tongue in your mouth. You palm him through his pants and he moans. His hand starts to creep under your dress, rubbing your clothed pussy. You moan together, his touch feels like it’s setting you on fire, your chest heaves. A finger hooks into your panties and you abruptly grab his wrist and pull away from the kiss.

“I’m… saving myself… for marriage…” you pant.

His eyes are like saucers, he stares at you. What on earth do you mean? Getting him all turned on and then… stopping?

“I could use my mouth?” He asks, hopefully.

You shake your head. “No. But.. there’s another option.”

Taking his hand and sliding it onto your ass cheek. He stares, still confused.

“Here, help me take my dress off.”

You turn around so you have your back to him, and he obliges immediately, pulling the zipper down and easing the dress off as you shift your shoulders and then your hips to help. He kisses your neck, humming as he breathes in the heady scent of your perfume. His hands trace the curves of your body, fingers expertly unhook your bra. His roughened fingertips run over your skin, briefly skimming the surface of the cross around your neck before he reaches your breast. He rubs a nipple between thumb and forefinger, making you groan. Breathing hard, he pulls away from you for a moment and quickly takes off his own shirt and pants, leaving him in the underwear he’d thought he ought to wear for the press conference. His dick strains against it, and he briefly presses himself against your ass.

“Now you’re getting the idea,” you murmur, quickly wriggling out of your panties.

He groans just looking at your bare ass. You’re the first woman for a while. He wonders how long he can last like this, trying to stop his hips from thrusting.

You take his hand and bring it to your mouth, sucking on his forefinger pornographically. He whines. He can’t help imagining what it would feel like if your tongue swirled around his dick like that. Moving your leg forward, you guide his hand between your legs. But it doesn’t go where his horny, foggy brain still expects it to go. Instead you help him press it against your asshole, and gently slide it in. He makes a noise somewhere between surprise and pleasure.

“Does that… does it feel good, doll?” He murmurs in your ear.

You nod, breathing hard again.

“You want me to move it?”

Another nod. He starts to gently slide his finger in and out. It feels different to a pussy, tighter, less wet. He kisses the back of your neck. His dick aches. He listens to your soft moans.

“You want another finger?”

“Please,” you manage, your tone a little desperate. “But you’ve gotta suck on it first. Make it really wet.”

He nods and kisses you just below your ear as he slides his finger out and puts two of them in his mouth, coating them with spit. You’re glad you made the effort before you left the house this morning. Everyone might’ve thought that the bidet your parents had installed was weird, but it’s been useful lately.

He pushes both fingers inside and you let out a strangled moan. He moves them, wanting to hear you do it again. Curious if you can cum from just this. You roll slightly more onto your front and find yourself almost humping the bed, rubbing your clit against the sheets and making the most obscene noises as his fingers keep pumping in and out of you.

“Cum for me, doll,” he whispers, his breath hot on your ear.

It’s all you need to push you over the edge, your pussy clenching around nothing, empty as always. Your body trembles and you moan out his name. He’s so carried away watching you and making sure you’re taken care of he forgets his own discomfort until you’re still. Then he realises quite how sore his dick is. How full his balls feel. He slides his fingers out of you carefully, and you roll back towards him, hands grabbing for his neck, pulling his face down to crash his lips against yours. It’s not enough. You still want him, badly.

Your hand touches him through his pants and he moans into your mouth. Tries to stop you, but it’s too late, he’s already cumming, sticky and hot inside his underwear. He pulls back and looks away, ashamed. It takes you a minute to realise what’s happened, and when you do you just smile and pull his pants off, leaning down to lick him clean. He whimpers. From the touch, his dick still a little sensitive, and from your reaction to his over-excitement. Licking turns to sucking, and he’s getting hard again. Your mouth feels just as good around him as he thought it would, your tongue swirling around the head.

“What d’ya want?” He asks, breathless, as you move off his dick and press your forehead against his.

“Put your dick where your fingers were,” you tell him.

He groans. “Are ya sure?”

You nod. You’d been afraid it might’ve been a little big, but holding it in your mouth has convinced you the size is just about perfect. You press a quick kiss to his lips and then sit up, reaching for your purse and pulling out a bottle of KY jelly when you find it.

“Here. You need this.” You lie back down next to him and look up into his beautiful eyes. You could look into them all day. “You want me to put it on for you?”

He nods, dumbly. Not even really knowing what it is. You squeeze some onto your palm and run it up and down his dick. It’s a little cold. He almost jumps, then groans at the feeling of your hand on him.

“I don’t wanna hurt ya,” he breathes, his hand on your cheek.

“You won’t,” you tell him, confidently. “You can always use more lube. Just start slow. It’ll be fine.”

He nods and watches you get onto all-fours in front of him.

“Just do what you would normally, y’know… if it was my pussy…” you tell him over your shoulder.

He kneels behind you and squeezes some lube on his fingers, coating them with it, before sliding them inside you. He pumps them in and out a few times, feeling you relax and listening to your pleasured little noises. Then he lines himself up with your entrance and slowly starts to push inside. The feeling is intense, and his breathing comes in harsh pants until he’s finally all the way in. He stares at the place you’re connected, hypnotised by it.

“Are you okay?” He manages eventually, watching your head hang down between your shoulders.

“Yes. Ohhh. You can move…” you reply.

He pulls back and slowly pushes into you again, his hands gripping your hips. When you don’t cry out in pain, he starts to move a little faster, his movements really starting to rock you now. The cross swings back and forth with your breasts. It feels so good. You slide down onto your forearms as you feel his balls slap against your pussy with every thrust. Whining and moaning into the bedclothes. He grunts with the exertion, feeling sweat running down his face as he really starts to rut into you, forgetting this is something he’s never done before, no longer worrying he might hurt you. He slides his hand round to just above your clit.

“Honey? Can I?” He pants.

“Mmmhmmm,” you just about manage, letting your face press into the bed, fingers digging into the comforter.

He rubs your swollen clit with his fingers and you feel yourself start to come undone again.

“Fuck… fuck… fuck…”

Your words spur him on to fuck your ass even harder, fingers circling your clit faster and faster until he hears you cry out again, feels your body tremble underneath him. Your second orgasm slams into you with such force you can barely keep yourself upright and he has to grab both of your hips and pull you back onto his dick over and over again. You’re like a ragdoll in his hands, wet arousal spilling down your legs as he fucks you until finally he’s cumming again too, deep inside you in a place that means you can’t get pregnant.

He pumps into you a few times, weakly, and then lets your hips go. You slide unceremoniously onto your belly and his dick slides out of you. Flopping down on his side next to you, he strokes your hair with one hand as his eyes close.

“Shit,” he mutters.

You grumble and turn towards him. “Huh?”

His eyes flip open, pleasure still spreading throughout his body. He grins that lopsided grin again.

“That was damn good. Ya like the mattress?”

You laugh a little, still in a daze, and pull him against you.

“I like the mattress.”

***

Taglist

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @elvisalltheway101 @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley @dkayfixates @iloveelvisss @kxnnxy

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fic #elvis smut #elvis fanfic #elvis presely smut #elvis imagine #elvis presley fanfic #elvis x reader #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you

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chugging-antiseptic-dye · 3 days ago

Text

•°. *࿐ vernon

◦ words: overcharge, sweet, and slap (> 600 words)

.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜

“Did you really have to make them kiss?” Vernon asked, peeking into your laptop.

Slamming the top of the laptop closed, you let out a strangled noise of protest and say,

“I think it's sweet! Don’t you think everyone deserves a happy ever after?”

With amusement in his voice, Vernon replied, “Even if they didn’t, you would have forced them to have one anyways. But what I don’t get is why do you like writing gay fanfiction about 2D people so much.?”

“What is that supposed to mean? Are you making fun of me?” You ask tersely.

“No, of course not, babe”, Vernon placates, raising his hands in surrender. “Maybe I will understand it more if you write something about real people.” He clicked his fingers as the world’s best idea dawned on him. “I know! Why don't you write about me and Boo?”

Your brain stutters to a stop and you can’t help but look at your boyfriend disbelievingly. Maybe, I am dreaming right now, you think. To make sure that you aren’t hallucinating or going stark raving mad, you go,

“Are you asking me to write a yaoi fic about you and your best friend?”

“Yeah, write a boover, solkwan or whatever they call it.”

You correct him automatically, “it's solboo”

“Yeah, solboo. Write a solboo fic. I think Seungkwan would love to see what kind of person you write him as.”

You had a secret. Sometimes, just sometimes, you didn't know if your boyfriend was kidding or not. This was one of those times. Trying to test the waters, you hum and say, “I would have to charge you then. This writer doesn't work for free.”

Vernon nods approvingly. “Of course, the fact that you are willing to write for free usually doesn't mean you shouldn't know your worth. Good job standing up for yourself, babe. And you should even add an overcharge if I annoy you like this.”

“Thank you”, you giggle.

He continues, “And since you are charging, can I make some requests? Can you add in a fight scene or something? I would like to beat something up. Wait, let me ask Seungkwanie if he wants to be in a fight too.”

Vernon looks around to see where he put his phone. He made a beeline for it when he found it. With an aha, he shoots a text and comes back to sit next to you.

“What did you text him about?” You ask bemusedly.

“Huh?”

“What did you say to Seungkwan?”

Vernon was starting to get a bit confused by this exchange.

“I asked him if he wanted to be in a fight?”

“This and nothing else?”.

You try to clamp down the giggles that are bubbling inside you.

“Is there anything else to say?”

But thinking about Seungkwan's face when he sees the text Vernon sent, you can't help but break into a peal of laughter. Much to the growing confusion of your boyfriend, you laughed straight for five minutes. Forcing yourself to wrestle the conversation back to where you guys were, you say,

“A fight scene maybe a bit too much for me but I could add in a slap for you.”

A bit offended, Vernon shoots back “I don't want to get slapped for no reason.”

“Why would it be for no reason? Maybe you cheated on Seungkwan?”

“If I did, then I would deserve it and more but I would never cheat on him.” Vernon protested.

The slowly heating up banter between the couple in the cozy apartment and snowflakes whirling around the air outside was the opposite in every way but one. Both of them were where they belonged.

.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜

if anyone wants me to write about a specific member, please send me an ask with the member name + three words from this word generator)

#anon. i know you asked for only vernon but him and seungkwan are a buy one get one free deal i fear #svt #seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen drabbles #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen vernon #vernon #chwe vernon #vernon fluff #chwe hansol x reader #vernon x reader #vernon x you #vernon x y/n #writings of tie-dye

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frozenjokes · 23 hours ago

Text

cubfan135 and by extension zombiecleo get scarrrrrrred for life!

“Wait a minute, if you’re a computer, you’ll just know all the correct moves to make, won’t you? What’s the point of playing in the first place?” Cub sat hunched over the checker board on the kitchen table, setting up the pieces and simultaneously giving Scar the stink eye, to which Scar did not react at all.

“I thought you wanted to play,” Scar said, reasonable in Cleo’s opinion, given Cub was the one who asked.

“I do. But not if I can’t win.”

Cleo snorted, and both Cub and Scar ignored her.

“Well, I play games with the kids at the school all the time. Typically I adjust my own difficulty level towards the age range I’m working with, so if you’d like me to play as if I’m up against a kindergartener-“ This wasn’t meant to be an insult, Scar was usually very genuine and especially clear with Cub, but Cleo still laughed, and Cub fumed.

“No! Play at your highest difficulty level- I’m good at checkers, I can win.”

“You want me to play optimally?” Scar sounded concerned, probably because this was counterintuitive to what Cub had said about wanting to be able to win, but Cub only nodded starkly.

“I can win.”

Cleo watched them both from her place on the couch, the TV on low volume as she waited for the news to come on. She liked watching them, goobers as they were, her robot designed that way and Cub, just a fucking idiot, honestly. Hopelessly in love with a thing that could not love him back, whose feelings were faux for the purpose of fitting in, doing the job he’d been designed to do. Cleo told Cub this. Scar told Cub this, though he did not understand the gravity of Cub’s feelings regardless of how obviously smitten he was.

Scar might want to understand. He might want to, because that would be beneficial for his models, his job, making human connections. Scar wanted to make human connections because Cleo wanted him to, and Scar was designed to serve her, to improve in accordance with the job Cleo wanted him to do.

But Cleo did not want Scar to fall in love. Cleo could not make Scar fall in love, just like they could not make Scar care about his patients, even if he was quite good at pretending. Make people comfortable. Identify signs of mental illness in children. Perform preliminary diagnostic assessments. Recommend accommodations. Those were Scar’s jobs, all of which he was quite good at doing besides the occasional flub- he was still in testing after all, getting better every day, but..

This mess, in Cleo’s head at least, started with Cub’s accidental autism assessment. Scar was not supposed to assess adults, he knew that, but something in the programming- something with his priorities- It was really obvious, right? Cleo sympathized with the fact that Cub’s autism was a shining beacon of neurodivergence literally everywhere he went, but then Cleo would remember that Scar was a robot, robots aren’t people and don’t need to be sympathized with, and threw themself back into trying to stop this from happening again and again. But because Cub was autistic, because Scar wanted to corner him in the psychiatrist office so bad, Cub got all this attention, and one thing led to another before Cleo had some loser at their door trying to pick up their robot for a fucking date.

What a mess indeed. Cleo told him to stop. She told Scar to stop seeking Cub out where they both worked. Neither of these things happened. Cleo could have fixed it by messing with the programming. Using the same code she used to make Scar partial to her and the teachers he helped during the day, she could force Scar to avoid Cub as he was instructed to do with certain other types of people, but that felt.. mean. Given that Cleo and Cub were technically coworkers, she wasn’t trying to foster a negative workplace relationship, and she didn’t want to go to HR either. As much as Cub flirting with their robot was annoying, working as a custodian in an elementary school sounded hellish enough to Cleo, and they weren’t trying to get him in trouble for something so trivial.

Cleo thought it would burn out quick. That Cub would realize Scar is a robot, that he can’t care for Cub in the way Cub so desperately wanted him to, and that this was a lost cause. Cleo didn’t exactly want Cub and Scar to be unsupervised, so she started inviting Cub over, hoping he would soon realize just how fruitless this endeavor was. He did not. Multiple months had passed by now, and he had not.

Cleo had learned a couple things about Cub in this time.

Cub was probably the loneliest, most pathetic man that Cleo had ever met, which, given her background in clinical psychology, was a major exaggeration- Cub was fine, just with an air of patheticness that made you wonder how he’d managed to live this long on his own. He couldn’t make a social connection unprompted to save his life, almost never spoke unless addressed, and Cleo guessed there was quite a bit of social anxiety at play here, one he only seemed to be able to circumvent by talking to Scar. Which- not Scar’s intended purpose, but that was great! Genuinely, Cleo was grateful Scar could do that for him. Cub didn’t strike Cleo as a particularly miserable guy- he self-entertained pretty easily, he had a lot more active hobbies than Cleo would have guessed, and he had this creative streak he took pride in, but didn’t have many people to show it off to. He was stubborn as a mule, obstinate, and kind of an asshole in the same ways Scar could be on accident, though, if you told Scar he was being an asshole he would apologize and if you told Cub he was being an asshole he would stare at you like he didn’t understand why you were even talking to him. He was charming though, in his own way. He was funny. Cleo thought so at least, and she never got tired of the look on Cub’s face when she laughed at one of his little jokes; a little brightening, almost surprise, and that little smile that followed.

It took Cub a long time to warm up to Cleo, and he threw more than one fit over having most of his time with Scar be supervised, but quite frankly, Cleo did not trust either of them enough to leave them alone in the beginning. Cub regarded Cleo a lot like a wild animal, one that was used to living around people, but wary. A necessity to work around because Cleo had Scar, and Cub wanted Scar more than he didn’t want Cleo. He’d grown more confident in time though, just as Cleo grew more comfortable with him, and Cleo hoped he’d come to like her just as much as she liked him.

They had a bit of a schedule now, Tuesdays and Thursdays and some Saturdays Cub would come around, hang out with Scar and have dinner. Dinner had been a peace offering on Cleo’s part, mostly because they felt bad about the autism assessment, but it had become some kind of routine, one Cleo enjoyed. She’d always been inconsistent when it came to making food at home, often brushing it off if she was only cooking for herself, but Cub gave her a sense of structure, obligation, and being able to do this for someone else was easier than doing it for herself. Cleo liked cooking for someone else. Even if that someone was a picky motherfucker, but given Cub’s ideal dinner for the past ten years had been frozen chicken nuggets and microwaveable lunches, Cleo.. Well, they could fix him.

But it wasn’t always this way, ideallic, perfect. It couldn’t have been then, when there were so many things Cleo didn’t know. Hardly more than a month had passed when Cub started to get restless in her home.

“You should help her.” Cleo overheard him saying to Scar from the other room, not very nicely, which, didn’t matter because Scar was a robot, but it stood out coming from Cub.

“Oh, no! I definitely shouldn’t!” Scar said, far louder than Cub’s own whispered command, to which Cub shushed him aggressively, and Cleo chuckled to themself. Scar continued quieter regardless, but not quiet enough. “We tried that, but Cleo doesn’t like me in the kitchen. I get in the way and I can’t read her mind which is extremely inconvenient for both of us.”

Cleo swore Cub growled, but she could not confirm.

The next time he came over, Cub sat at the kitchen island and glared at Cleo the entire time they were cooking. Now, Cub always had a way of looking at you like he wanted to run you off the road, but this was different, like he was actually mad, and Cleo didn’t know what his fucking problem was so she just ignored it, letting Scar talk nonsense into his ear for the next hour. Cleo couldn’t actually remember if Cub said a word that night; she had just assumed he was in a bad mood or mad at her, neither of which bothered her.

“I brought a rotisserie chicken,” was the next instance, Cleo opening her front door to what could only be described as an aura of Malice, enough to make her wonder if Cub was going to poison her tonight to steal her robot.

“I.. You should have texted me. I already had plans, I was just getting ready to-“

“We’re having chicken.”

Cleo had been so annoyed, not even because of the potential attempt on her life, but he hadn’t communicated this at all! Not a word! They already had a plan, and Cub didn’t get to stomp on it even if his chicken smelled very good, this wasn’t how this worked. “We’re not having chicken. I’m already making enchiladas, I already-“

“Hello, Cub! Cubby Cub, there he is! You came late today!” Scar interrupted, skidding around the corner to greet him, and Cub walked inside without another word. “Wow, did someone try to run you off the road on the way here or do you just want to kill me?”

Cleo nearly strangled Cub when she found him putting all the vegetables she’d set out to start cutting back in the fridge, and the following argument got so heated that Scar shifted to his child conflict resolution program, a change jarring enough that both of them noticed, their molten hate turning directly on Scar with such vehemence that Cleo was shocked his wires didn’t immediately fry.

“I think you two could do with a little break. Come on, Cleo!” Scar put himself between them, herding Cleo out of the kitchen. Even on the verge of homicide, she stopped to make a note to work on making Scar’s conflict resolution sound about 250% less demeaning. It had been a while since she’d really seen it face to face, and that would not fly with children older than six. Hearing Cub fuck around in her kitchen put Cleo’s mind back on murder.

The table was set when Cleo was allowed to return (a rigid ten minutes later, and nothing she said made Scar budge), and Cub was staring at his chicken, so Cleo sat, wordless. They assumed Cub was planning on serving it, he just hadn’t cut it yet. He had the knife. He was.. looking at it. Scar sat down, happy as a clam, and Cleo rolled their eyes when they saw Cub had given him a plate. She turned back to say something snarky, but Cub was still staring at the damn chicken.

“Cub.”

Cub jumped, nearly dropping the knife. “What.”

“It’s going to get cold.” Cleo didn’t bother being nice, only trying to sound kind enough so that she would not be removed from the premises again. Cub looked like he would have loved nothing more than to exit his own skin, and Cleo reveled in it.

“I know that.” He continued staring at the chicken. A few moments passed. He looked at his phone, typing something while showing more emotion on his face than Cleo had seen in the past month. Bafflement started to edge away her anger.

“Cub.”

“I’m doing it!”

“Do you want me to cut the chicken.”

“I actually extremely do not want you to do that, it’s fine, I have it, I just-“ Cub glanced at his phone, gingerly lining the knife up at the center of the bird. His face was red, tense, he looked like he was about to cry. Cleo didn’t even have it in her to sigh. She got up.

What an oddly intimate thing, it was. Standing there in near silence apart from quiet instructions. Grit and dirt kicked over the remaining sparks of frustration by the simple act of Seeing someone, knowing him, teaching a skill he really ought to have learned by now, but there was no use in saying it, he knew, and he would rather be skewered on a rotisserie spit and roasted alive than be here. Part of Cleo was sad for him. The other part said This Is A Grown Ass Man, Grow The Fuck Up, but, ah.. that wouldn’t change anything, would it.

“What’s this about, Cub,” Cleo said when they’d sat down to eat, and it was not a question. Cub wouldn’t look at her, nudging the chicken he was shredding to pieces.

“You’re doing too much for me,” he mumbled, and Cleo was shocked he’d given a straight answer, even if it didn’t make sense. “I feel bad.”

“I don’t understand. Explain.”

“You make dinner. You don’t even want me here. I can’t do anything you’d want.”

This pinched her brain, short, sharp, and confusing, like the sting of a mosquito before you realized you’d been bit. “I have to eat too,” she tried, “You’re here. You might as well eat, especially if you’re just going to pick up fast food trash or eat something shitty at home.” This is stupid, they didn’t say. This is so dumb.

“I feel bad,” Cub said helplessly. “You don’t even order in. I can’t even split the bill. You go out of your way for me when I’m here, and you don’t even want me here.”

“I like having you here.” Cleo was distressed to see Cub look up, disbelieving. He looked back down. “I like having you here. And it’s not a big deal, it never has been, the excuse to cook has been helpful for me. I like to do it, but I can’t be assed when I’m alone. It feels good. I really hope you don’t believe I don’t like you just because you’re messing around with my robot, it doesn’t actually matter, you can’t break him or anything.” Graciously, Scar remained quiet; Cleo was relieved that he could still identify when a problem needed to be talked out between two people without inference. It probably helped that neither of them were screaming.

“You don’t have to say that to me. I know I’m in your way. I’d rather you just be honest. I’m a stranger in your home.”

Cleo didn’t expect that. She really didn’t expect that, and it caught her off guard just how much it hurt her feelings. Maybe he saw it on her face. It didn’t matter. “Am I a stranger to you?”

Cub was quiet. His lip trembled. “I’m sorry. I have to go. I have to go.” He left, stumbling. It was so fast, Cleo couldn’t even think to stop him. Scar tried, and Cub’s strangled sob to dismiss him from the mud room hit Cleo like a red-hot whip against their back.

“I don’t get it,” Cleo had hissed through her hands, sitting on the couch next to Scar. She didn’t particularly want to be talking to Scar, but she didn’t exactly have many options- Listen, Cleo wasn’t a complete shut-in, but they didn’t exactly have many friends outside of work acquaintances, and certainly no one they could just call out of the blue. Scar was the closest to a normal friend she had, and even then, it’s all just business, isn’t it? “I don’t get him! I don’t know what his fucking problem is or- or why he thinks I hate him or something! That came out of nowhere! Did it not come out of nowhere? I don’t treat him any different than I do anyone else!”

Scar was quiet as he processed, and Cleo tried to imagine something human inside him instead of the soft whir of fans and machinery. “I don’t know if that’s true. You don’t talk to most people the same way at all.”

Cleo scoffed, “I’m not at work, Scar. I don’t talk to him any different than I talk to you. Like a person.”

Cleo didn’t like the long pause.

“You don’t talk to me like a person, Cleo. I’m robot, not a person, so you don’t need to. You can be efficient with me, you can be mean, it doesn’t matter. I don’t care. I can’t care. Cub is not a robot.”

“I’m not- I’m not mean to you, for god’s sake!”

“I don’t think so. But you made me this way. I can only try to improve, and I do try. But Cub thinks so. He thinks you’re cruel to me. And if you treat Cub the way you treat me, then I think it’s not unreasonable of him to assume you dislike him. I think you dislike him too. You’re quick to joke at his expense, and you are no nicer in private. He’s a thorn in your side, is he not?”

Cleo gaped, sitting there in silence for ages while Scar looked so innocently back at them. “Why- No! I like Cub! Of course I like Cub!”

“You don’t act like it.” Scar had a way of delivering devastating blows like it was nothing, like it was an indisputable truth. Not accusatory. Not critical. Just. Robotic. Cleo was dizzied by the fact that this was really the first time Scar was hearing about this.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You didn’t ask.” That hurt just as bad, though it shouldn’t have. Scar gave information freely, but his job wasn’t to be an active messenger. To Scar, this was just a fact of Cleo’s relationship with Cub, a simple note on their acquaintanceship; Cleo dislikes Cub. Scar had no reason to think they’d want to know. Cleo didn’t ask.

“Why didn’t he say anything. I would’ve- fuck.”

“Oh, you’re not very approachable,” the answer came way too fast, but Scar offered no more information even as Cleo gaped.

“Who said that?”

“Oh, well..” Scar stuck his tongue between his lips, thoughtful as he started to count on his fingers-

“No!” Cleo interrupted, “No, I changed my mind, I don’t want to know.”

It was when Cleo went to text Cub later that night that they realized they didn’t even have his number- How did they not exchange numbers by now?? Why didn’t he ask- nevermind. Most times they made plans were at the elementary school, mostly through Scar.. Cleo hadn’t thought anything of it until now. If she really needed anything from Cub, she just emailed it. Fuck.

—

To: Cub F.

Subject: Apology. Or Something. I Dont Really Have A Title For This

I think I fucked up. Scar is telling me things I didn’t realize before and I think I fucked up. I like having you here. I like it when you’re over. I like you. I’m sorry that wasn’t clear. I want to fix this.

Here’s my number if you want to talk: XXX-XXXX-XXXX

Cleo

—

To You

No Subject

can I pay for your groceries

—

To: Cub F.

Subject: ???????

??????????????? No????????

—

Cub did not email or text Cleo back, to which Cleo had Normal feelings about, expressed Normally as she went to clean up Cub’s fucking chicken, stupid ass chicken, why the fuck did he bring a chicken over anyway, who in their right mind decides they’re bringing and chicken and just DOESN’T communicate. Even if they hadn’t exchanged phone numbers, he could have told Scar! Surely this wasn’t a spur of the moment chicken, this was premeditated!

Thank god Scar had a forced sleep mode when he was charging, or he’d have quite a few things to say about Cleo’s tossing and turning that night. She’d learned that lesson the hard way, and had an extra reason why she couldn’t fall asleep at night.

Cleo ended up going in that Wednesday, more desperate to see Cub than anything, but he did not want to see her, caught like a deer in the headlights in the doorway of his office.

“What are you doing here.” Was. Certainly a greeting. Was Cleo really the asshole here? Cub opened his mouth again, like he was surprised at how those words sounded once they left his mouth, but he didn’t correct either.

“I needed to see you. I really- I didn’t know. I thought we were friends, I thought- It was all banter to me, I never meant to make you uncomfortable or feel unwelcome. I really- I really do want to be your friend, Cub.”

Cub reached past them, and for a second Cleo thought he intended to leave until he closed his office door. Then he backed up. Sat in his chair. Put his head in his hands. “This feels terrible. I wasn’t ready for this.”

Cleo pursed her lips. Maybe cornering Cub in his office the morning after That wasn’t the most considerate thing they’d ever done. Cleo wanted to say she would go. She wanted to leave, but she hesitated, and in that time Cub spoke up.

“It’s nice, when people tell you directly what they think of you. You told me. You told me so many times. I was okay with that, I didn’t- I just couldn’t handle- I just wanted to pay the sum those dinners cost you, I want to feel even. I know you think this is stupid. That it’s all stupid, that it’s pointless, but I don’t care what you think about me, I care about Scar. I just want Scar. You can just want Scar too.”

“Cub, I didn’t.. I know how you got here, why you think all this, but I just- I don’t know. I’ve been kicking myself because of course in hindsight I’ve been horrible- joking that you should leave, that you're a pain in the ass, that this is all so dumb, but I.. I didn’t see it. I didn’t know. It’s been me and Scar for so long, and I wasn’t at work, I wasn’t trying to hold professional acquaintanceship in my own home, and I..” Cleo laughed, far too pitched, far too nervous, “I think I forgot how normal people go about having friends. I thought we were on the same page. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to be your friend. I don’t like you. I don’t think you’re good for Scar.” There was nothing emotionally charged about those words, and that was so much worse, draining the room of all but dread like a vacuum.

Cleo felt dizzy. “He’s just a robot, Cub, he doesn’t have feelings to hurt. He’s just a robot.”

“I just want Scar.” Cub wouldn’t tear his eyes off the floor. Cleo was glad he wasn’t looking at them, their face blotchy and red.

“Fine,” they breathed, hardly enough air in their lungs to speak the words. “Have him. I won’t make you come over anymore. Go wherever you like, given- Well, I have some instructions, guidelines I need you to follow, but.. I’ll email them to you.” The following words ripped through their throat like barbed wire, but Cleo could not stop themself from pulling the string. “I trust you.”

They left before Cub could say anything more. Cleo wouldn’t be able to handle it.

///

Cub wondered sometimes how someone like Scar could be born of someone like Cleo. How someone with only love for the world could come into being from gruff disdain, it really didn’t make any kind of sense in Cub’s head.

He understood very little about Cleo, and it scared him more than when she was just a divine asshole. How was it even possible that she’d thought they were friends? More accurately to Cub’s concerns, what? Just- What??? So much What.

Cleo couldn’t have made it more blatantly obvious they couldn’t stand Cub if they had written the words across their forehead, and being told otherwise felt like being slapped awake from a nightmare, only to find the world still just seemed wrong. Cub had mentioned to Scar Cleo’s utter contempt for him multiple times, and Scar had agreed! He’d said when people don’t like him he’s supposed to stay clear as much as possible, but Cub couldn’t do that because Cleo wouldn’t let the two of them hang out outside of her home until- until she dropped that bomb. Not only do I like you, I trust you, so here’s the choice to have nothing to do with me at all. What the hell was that???

Cub was grateful. It felt odd to be grateful, very odd, but he really did want nothing to do with her, which is probably why he was thinking about her all the time.

“You agreed with me,” Cub had said on his and Scar’s first date alone, lounging in Cub’s apartment. “You agreed, you said they didn’t like me.”

“I thought so up until last week!” Scar supplied, extremely unhelpfully. “Apparently we were wrong. Who knew? I’m wrong a lot though, so maybe this isn’t a surprise.”

“Is that what Cleo tells you?”

“Uh..” Scar trailed, “Well, technically yes, but I mean more in the objective sense I am wrong quite a bit, or at least not to their standard. But they programmed me, so I don’t think I’m the one they’re mad at when I make a mistake..”

Cub groaned, giving up.

The next couple weeks were weird, Cub not saying a word to Cleo and vice versa the entire duration, despite being painfully aware of each other’s presence. It wasn’t hard for Cub to keep out of their way, the two of them hardly crossing paths on a normal day, but he had a feeling he wasn’t the only one avoiding the staff break room.

And it’s not like they’d talked before. Cub never went out of his way to see Cleo, and pleasantries always felt forced, though maybe Cleo hadn’t felt that way before. Cub hadn’t actively avoided them before, especially when they had to talk occasionally about when he was coming over, but..

Cub didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about Cleo at all. Unfortunately he had an issue that he couldn’t solve alone.

Cub shut Cleo’s office door behind him, adrenaline doing most of the heavy lifting in this confrontation. “Why won’t Scar touch me.”

If Cleo’s eyes hadn’t already been wide, they certainly were now, a look of shock Cub wasn’t sure he’d ever seen on their face before painted plainly. Cleo was normally composed, calculated, but this seemed to throw her off balance, caught like a deer in the headlights of a car going one hundred and twenty miles per hour.

“Hi, Cub. Say again?”

“I need Scar to hug me before my skin crawls right off my bones, I need it, and he won’t. Fix him.”

“Cub,” Cleo’s head fell into the tips of her fingers, which pushed at the edges of her scalp, “Scar is a robot. He works with kids. Any touch is inappropriate touch in childcare, especially where parents are involved, and the last thing I need is some mom to start bitching about my program because Scar let a kid sit on his lap. Parents have complained about less. No touching. Ever.”

“What’s wrong with a hug!?”

“A lot of things, in some people’s points of view. It doesn’t matter if I know it’s innocent, if Scar knows it’s innocent, if the god damn teachers know it’s innocent, all it takes is for one parent to start moaning about harassment and I’m through. There’s already a clan of them that don’t like this program, but it’s not their choice, it’s the school’s. And so far, this thing has been successful, so I’d prefer not to lose my job over something stupid.

“Let him touch me.”

“Cub, no,” Cleo let their hands fall flat back over their face, “It doesn’t work like that, this is non-negotiable.”

“You’re a fucking bitch, you know that?”

Cleo looked at him through her fingers with lidded eyes, blinking slowly. Slowly again. Cub pursed his lips.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean that. I’m having a bad day. Disregard.”

“Yeah,” Cleo groaned, “Whatever.”

“Why can’t I be an exception. Scar does special stuff for you, doesn’t he? You’re his favorite, he’ll do like anything for you. Teachers too, they’ve got special control. He told me.”

Again Cleo blinked slow, then shook their head, removing their hands from their face. “Cub, Scar has priorities that rank above even the hierarchy of people who have ‘special control.’ He’s obligated to do what I say above all else, but sometimes his core programming overrides even that; he wants to make people happy, comfortable, accommodated. He’s made this way so he isn’t reliant on me for every little conversation, he can be somewhat independent, and there’s an override of course, but that’s not the point. If I remove the protections that keep his hands to himself, even if I manage to do it for just you, I think you know he doesn’t always follow the guidelines set out for him. He’ll see you have a positive reaction to the hug, he’ll do it with other kids, and if there’s a bug in the system and all barriers of touch are broken, that could be really dangerous for the kids. They love to get rowdy when they play, but what happens when Scar picks one of them up or pushes someone, it doesn’t matter if the kids were begging him to do it in the first place. There’s a million other reasons, but I shouldn’t have to explain it to you beyond this. Scar isn’t your personal toy. He’s a robot, and he has a job to do.”

Cub felt a lump rise in his throat, and it took all of his strength to force out his next words. “Just for one night. Please.”

“No-“ Cleo opened her eyes, then stopped, appraising. It took her a moment to speak again. “What’s wrong, Cub?”

He wanted to keep it in. He’d prepared for this, prepared for someone to notice, to ask, but he didn’t want them to know, he was so scared and he didn’t know why, he just needed to keep it in, but there was no one left to cry to, no one left to hold.

“My dad died. Two days ago. Just. Heart attack. He just died.” The dam broke. He didn’t remember falling into Cleo’s arms, but he never wanted to leave.

…

The wake was.. well, the wake was never going to be nice. Exhausting was an apt word, Cub was just exhausted, and the hours trickling past did nothing to ease the ache in his heart.

But it wasn’t.. it wasn’t horrible. It wasn’t nearly as bad as Cub had imagined it to be- how else can you imagine your dad’s wake? His mother’s had been terrible, and all he’d heard from his relatives was how draining it was to organize, but draining was a different feeling from crushingly hopeless, and Cub was too exhausted by the end to feel the weight of grief on his back.

It wasn’t a long event, not particularly large. Lots of extended family, the names of which Cub had to pretend he hadn’t forgotten, lots of hugs, a few tears.

Scar helped. He took on the burden of speaking when Cub didn’t think he could muster another word, he was high energy, but not inappropriate; if Scar crossed a line, Cleo would materialize out of nowhere to correct him. Kindly. She did it kindly, and Cub noticed.

Cleo stayed out of the way, but they stayed, the whole three hours. When Cub needed an escape, she seemed to slip seamlessly into his place, monitoring Scar and chatting occasionally with guests. With Cub’s permission, Cleo had told the elementary school staff about the wake. Cub wouldn’t have done it, not because he meant to keep this a secret, he just didn’t have the heart, didn’t want to force anyone to care, and didn’t want them to see him cry. It stunned and touched him how many staff members showed to express their condolences. He hardly knew any of them, hardly spoke at all, and still.. what a little community this was, huh?

“I’m sorry Scar can’t stay the night with you,” Cleo had approached Cub near the start of the cleanup, jacket draped over their shoulders, “He has to charge, and it’s not portable.” Cub hadn’t even asked, but he didn’t get the chance to say so before Cleo went on. “You can come over, if you want. Maybe that’s stupid- If I’m overstepping, tell me, please, but I just.. I don’t know. If you need the company.”

“I’ll be okay, thank you,” Cub didn’t have the energy to force any emotionality into his voice, or even process what this would mean to him with an awake mind. “My brother’s in town for the wake, so I’ll be hanging out with him tonight anyway.”

“Glad to hear it. Scar and I’ll be going then, drive safe, Cub.”

“You too,” he mumbled.

It was about 4:00 AM that night Cub woke up in a cold sweat with the realization that he hadn’t thanked her. He scrolled through his email for the phone number he knew was there, near panicked.

[4:11 AM Cub] thank yoy

…

[7:24 AM Cleo] who is this

…

[10:48 AM Cub] cub

[10:48 AM Cleo] Oh, no problem. Are you coming to work today?

[10:49 AM Cub] FUCJ

Luckily, no children shit their pants, so Cub wasn’t urgently needed that morning, though that didn’t change the scramble to get to the school after a panicked call to his boss.

He spent most of the day catching up with his morning work, so busy that he didn’t notice the little tupperware container on his desk until 4:00 in the afternoon.

‘Couldn’t sleep last night, so I made cookies. Thought you might like some. If I’m overstepping, please let me know. Hope you’re doing well. -Cleo’

Cub hadn’t eaten breakfast or lunch. He devoured every single one before getting back to it, feeling spectacularly ill by the time he went home for the day. Lots of groaning later, he managed to eat something substantial. With great ire, he set his alarm for the next morning. Fuck.

(The next morning was a Saturday, and Cub was halfway through getting dressed when he realized this fact.)

///

‘How is Cub?’ should have been a simple question, but Cleo had a hard time asking it in such a way that didn’t violate his privacy. Scar had certain guidelines in place to help protect him from blurting out every detail of every person he knew’s life, but Cleo needed access to the minute details of Scar’s day for the purposes of examining his progress, so when Cleo asked Scar ‘How is Cub?,’ just about every personal tidbit from Cub’s entire day as far as Scar was involved was laid out in excruciating detail. In Scar’s defense, Cleo knew Scar wasn’t qualified to answer that question; he was good at analyzing a human face in the moment to parse emotion, but asking how someone was doing in general was just too vague of a question, and because Scar was concerned with percision…

But Cleo couldn’t stop thinking about it. About him. Two weeks had passed, and they had seen Cub around a bit more often, but not enough to parse out if he was feeling alright. She didn’t exactly expect good or bad- she just wanted to know, wanted to help if she could. Cleo has this almost-compulsion to cook for him, they needed to cook for him, but they were far more worried about setting him off somehow, and they had already fucked this up bad enough. She missed him. Was it crazy to miss him? Cleo felt crazy, they felt dizzied by a pit of loneliness they thought they were immune to, turned to dating apps to fill that pit, then immediately stopped doing that when they remembered why they’d given those up the first and second and third and fourth time…

Cleo didn’t even want to date anyone. They just wanted to exist around people. They’d forgotten real people, and unfortunately, they had also forgotten how to behave, ruining the taste they’d gotten of companionship before Cleo could even call Cub a friend.

It was really a shame that Scar just couldn’t cut it for her. He just.. wasn’t human. Cleo was too familiar with him to be able to trick herself into believing it like Cub had done.

Still, Cleo tried to practice. She didn’t want to be mean, unapproachable, or any host of other negativities. There was no reason not to be unkind with Scar, he responded best to blunt, clear instructions, but Cleo found communicating these same messages in a nice way to be extremely challenging, and it frightened her that her ability to be concise, casual, and kind at the same time has atrophied so completely. Cleo was a businesswoman as much as she was an engineer, she was plenty capable in a working setting, but only then, the rest of her social ability seemingly flushed down the shitter.

At least Scar was good positive reinforcement, encouraging and optimistic whenever Cleo asked how she was doing. He was a little too good though; Cleo had no idea if she was actually talking how normal people are supposed to do it because Scar could only be a hype man. His main priorities were making Cleo feel good about themself and comfortable around him, so…

Cleo nearly throttled Scar when he tried to corner her for an autism assessment, but ah, this was not the first time and it would not be the last. Not until he completed it anyway, but Cleo did not need to worry about that shit right now. She had enough on her plate, like trying to figure out how Cub was doing without asking him or interacting directly at all.

[7:21 PM Cub] hey scar told me youve been being weird and want to hang out for some reason and he doesnt know why you havent asked me yet

[7:22 PM Cub] he also said some other things that were strange but idk nothing I haven’t done before

[7:25 PM Cub] youve been typing for a long time

[7:25 PM Cleo] Oh my god

[7:25 PM Cub] did I get him in trouble

[7:25 PM Cleo] Yes he is in trouble!

[7:26 PM Cub] :(

[7:26 PM Cleo] Don’t do that

[7:26 PM Cub] :(

[7:26 PM Cleo] >:(

[7:26 PM Cub] :(

[7:27 PM Cleo] I didn’t let him give me an autism assessment yesterday and he’s taken revenge.

[7:27 PM Cub] do you have autism

[7:27 PM Cleo] No

[7:28 PM Cub] neither do I

…

[2:48 AM Cleo] Can I cook for you

[2:50 AM Cub] dude what

[2:51 AM Cleo] I haven’t cooked in weeks. When you come over I cook. Just hang out with Scar like I’m not there it’s fine. I like it.

[2:51 AM Cub] you are confusing

[2:52 AM Cleo] I am trying not to be

[2:53 AM Cub] so ive heard

[2:54 AM Cleo] Unhear everything he told you. He’s a liar. He lies to make you like him, he literally does that all the time. He is such a liar.

[2:54 AM Cub] k

…

[4:32 AM Cub] can you make lasagna

[4:33 AM Cleo] Go to sleep

[4:33 AM Cub] youre literally also awake

[4:33 AM Cleo] You woke me up!!!!!!

[4:37 AM Cub] why the fuck do you have your ringer on

[4:37 AM Cub] how old are you

[4:38 AM Cleo] [bitmoji image of a Cleo caricature in pajamas, eyes closed and dreaming about running someone over with her car]

[4:38 AM Cub] im not coming over

…

Mending a fragile thing like this was stressful, requiring a gentle touch that Cleo famously lacked, but she did have one massive advantage in the ring that Scar did not, that being flesh, blood, and a beating human heart.

Whether Cub liked it or not, there were many things Cleo could do that Scar could not. When you knew Scar for long enough, the limits of his AI started to show through the cracks, which wasn't a problem for the work he was meant to be doing, but when you’re looking for a companion, those flaws could really drag down that pseudo human experience. Scar tended to circle around the same topics, repeat himself, lie, could be suffocatingly positive, and if he deemed necessary, overbearing.

Scar was also limited in the things he could physically do, which Cub had probably found out by now given the several dozen dates he’d tried to take Scar on. A few limitations were obvious; Scar couldn’t eat, and he couldn’t be near water or in the rain for extended periods. But there was quite a bit else as well, one of the large detriments being that Scar was not built to do much physical activity, he was not strong, and he could hardly keep you company on a brisk jog. He just wasn’t made to do any of that for extended periods, the machinery couldn’t handle it.

Additionally, besides actions he had been explicitly taught to perform, Scar was horrible at improvising and horrible at learning.

Apparently Cub had tried to take Scar to Top Golf which had gone terribly, though when Cleo said she’d never been and Cub insisted all three of them go together, she spent the first five minutes laying into him about the MASSIVE DROP right at the edge of their station. ‘:| there’s a net’ is NOT an excuse, not even Cub was explicitly told to keep Scar away from dangerous falls- Needless to say, Scar was banned to the sitting area, not that he really cared. He was still loud enough to talk over both of them, which he happily did!

Cleo guessed Cub had already started to regret his Date With Scar But Cleo Is There Also after that, though he definitely regretted it after watching Cleo try to golf. They had never done this before, not beyond mini golf, and they were appropriately awful in all the worst ways. Cleo would swing their club, watch the ball go in an entirely random direction, shrug, look back, and see all the color drained from Cub’s face.

“Was it really that bad?” Cleo had laughed, Cub pursing his lips in turn.

“It was fine.”

“‘It was fine,’ you say, through gritted teeth.”

“I can fix you.”

He could not fix her. Cub tried very hard, credit where credit was due, but Cleo never really Got It. She all but lost it when Scar called that she was doing great, and Cub, having endured a full hour of personalized torture, snapped back that she was not! 10/10, would golf again. Probably not without Cub, though.

There was not another CubScar Date Plus One for a while after that. The second happened when Cleo dug up a coupon for axe throwing that was about to expire, delivering the invite to Cub through Scar. She was delighted to hear he’d accepted; they’d been getting along so well these past weeks, and she was itching to get out and do something, but ‘getting along so well’ was thrown directly out the window when they played a competitive game. Cleo was a little rusty, but they actually used to be very good at axe throwing, and Cub picked it up pretty fast, but boy did he hate losing! After learning some basics, they played a game in which Cub lost horribly, so after he had to practice in his own stall in silence for thirty minutes before playing again, losing, and he didn’t SAY anything, but Cleo could just see it on his face, and maybe she couldn’t help but poke the bear.. This teasing led to a rage filled rematch in which Cub smoked her- he got so lucky! He was not that consistent normally-! But by the time that was over and Cleo was left Coping, neither of them were in a particularly good mood, glaring at a joy filled Scar who was forced to watch from behind a wire mesh wall the whole time.

Basketball could’ve been fun; Cleo hadn’t played since elementary school, but they liked a lot of the basketball games like Knockout and PIG! Unfortunately, Cub didn’t know the rules of PIG, and he really thought he did but he DIDN’T and no Cub, you don’t gain a letter for missing your own shot, you just move on to the next player! Why would you gain a letter for missing your own shot!! You just move on!! Perhaps their first mistake was choosing another competitive game.

The escape room though. That was the ticket. It had been a long time since Cleo had done an escape room, but something Happened in her brain when placed in a puzzle, thoughts moving at a thousand miles a minute as she couldn’t think of anything else but SOLVE PUZZLE SOLVE PUZZLE SOLVE SOLVE PUZZLE. Something similar must have happened in Cub’s brain, she saw it in his eyes, Wild. They moved around the room in a complete frenzy, speaking words that probably weren’t English, but the language of two deeply neurodivergent idiots who had just had their brains turned on for the first time in one hundred years. It was brilliant.

From then on, if an outing could be restructured to be cooperative, it was done. Like a flipped switch, everything was suddenly so much more fun, skill and competency mattering very little when one of them could pick up the slack.

And they still did get frustrated with each other, neither of them were immune to it, but they were starting to reach a level of understanding that made navigating each other easier. Cleo felt like animals sometimes, stepping on their toes, circling each other, watching through narrowed eyes when they weren’t entirely sure what the other would do or how they would react. It wasn’t.. bad. It wasn’t even stressful, Cleo was not afraid of Cub, didn’t believe he’d blow up without warning. It was just.. a puzzle. The two of them were a puzzle, holding on to each other’s pieces and unwilling to give them up, but through an odd game of chess, they were slowly putting the whole thing together, only to find quite a few of their pieces were built identically.

A strange feeling, really. Almost magnetic.

Cub’s existence seemed to be proof that Cleo was missing something, something they hadn’t even known they’d lost before Cub came around, but now that he was here, Cleo just couldn’t let go, they had to hold on until every last one of their puzzle pieces in his hands were safely in their own pocket.

Maybe that didn’t make sense. Maybe Cleo was just a lonely motherfucker who couldn’t put a name to her own feelings even after she’d been slapped in the face with them. But maybe Cub was in a similar spot, maybe he was the same. For goodness’s sakes, you probably don’t delude yourself into falling for a literal god damn robot unless you’re cripplingly lonely or something is seriously wrong with you. Or both. In his case it was definitely both, but hey, you could say the same thing about the person who made the unsettlingly human-like robot, Cleo wasn’t absolved of judgment.

“I think something is wrong with Cub.”

Cleo looked up, concerned until they remembered that if anyone showed even three or four mild symptoms of depression, Scar’s alarms would start blaring. This was such a large problem in the beginning that Cleo had to adjust Scar’s programming to need explicit permission from Cleo before even mentioning the word depression lest he tell a poor kid having a bad day that they’re sick.

“Why do you think this, Scar?”

“He hasn’t been coming to work! There’s been a new guy in his office for three days, and I’ve been asking, but no one knows where he’s gone!”

Cleo rolled her eyes, “Right. He’s sick, Scar. I texted him.”

“No he’s not.”

“What do you mean ‘No he’s not,’ that’s not how people work, Scar.”

“Cub never misses work! He’s always here, even when he really shouldn’t be! I don’t know why he comes when he’s so ill, and he’s had to leave early before, but really! Cub didn’t even mention feeling bad the night before when we were hanging out in his apartment. And he would have mentioned it, he can’t help but complain and complain. Gets really mad if you suggest he go home though. I don’t know. I’m not a doctor, but that seems like a problem.”

“It is a problem, but it’s a Cub problem, not something for you to get on his ass about.”

“Oh, I haven’t! I’m not a doctor.”

“I know.”

“But this is really abnormal for him, Cleo! Is this really not grounds for any investigation? He was weird the night before as well, near the end. He wouldn’t look me in the eyes-! I mean he normally doesn’t do that.. He hardly said a word near the end of the evening! Well… He was just so- so distant!” Scar pursed his lips, like he was trying to determine was a Cub normal or not. Cleo cut in before he could continue.

“You are not allowed to investigate anything of the sort. I will text him later, alright?”

Scar did not seem pleased, but of course he wasn’t, because this wasn’t really about Cub’s state of mind, it was about being told that he wouldn’t be allowed to chase the ever-tantalizing depression screening- god, Cleo really needed to find a way to make Scar less driven. It had always been pretty bad, but seriously! If only the guy Scar spent so much time with wasn’t so fucked in the head, but Cleo supposed Scar wouldn’t be spending all that time with him otherwise. A pang of- something, maybe guilt, tugged at her heart. This was bad. This was so bad, and it had been bad before when Cub was an idiot stranger fawning over their robot, but..

Cub was their friend. Cub was their friend, and he was in love with an entity that could not love him back. An entity whose interest in him stemmed solely from a drive to do its job.

Scar was not real. And maybe, as crazy as it was, that could be fine if not for the fact that realness was the pivotal factor that Cub craved.

Cleo saw it, clear as day. The wincing when Scar’s intentions were most clear, the rejection of the reality of Scar’s lack of personhood, the longing when Cub reached for his hand, only for Scar to pull away.

Whatever Cub was searching for, he would not find it in Scar. Cleo mourned that loss for him.

They texted Cub later that night, wishing him a speedy recovery, and offering to drop a meal off at his apartment. Cleo really did believe he was just sick, though if he did have a history of coming into work half dead, they were a little concerned for him, especially if he didn’t have anyone else in the area to check in.

[10:33 PM Cub] that would be really nice

[10:33 PM Cub] thank you

[10:35 PM Cub] just you though? scar is a little much for me right now

The last message dropped like a stone in Cleo’s gut.

It probably meant nothing. Why would it mean anything? Cub was sick, really sick, and Scar was a lot to handle on a good day. But Cub had never asked for Scar to be excluded, and besides brief moments at the elementary school, Cleo and him had hardly ever been alone together. It felt wrong to see Cub without Scar, she was so sure now something was wrong, and now more than ever had Cleo trusted Scar so completely in her entire life. Silly. That was silly. Cleo supposed she could ask Scar about the night before Cub got sick, but that felt like a pretty blatant breach of privacy, and Scar was quietly charging anyway.

[10:41 PM Cleo] Great! Can I come tomorrow? Is 7:00 in the evening okay?

[10:42 PM Cub] sounds good

Cleo put down their phone and closed their eyes.

…

Cub looked like a zombie when he answered the door, his apartment mirroring a similar state. Three days really wasn’t that much time for things to fall into complete disrepair, but the small room smelled, and beyond the BO, Cleo had the sense the trash needed to be taken out yesterday, the lid propped up and overflowing with dirty paper plates and bowls stacked haphazardly on the counter above. Cub took on a delayed look of embarrassment when he saw Cleo looking over his shoulder.

“‘M sorry. It’s not usually this bad..”

“It’s fine, Cub. I’ll take your trash down on my way out, I saw the dumpster tucked around the corner.”

“You don’t have to.”

The two of them sat in an awkward silence for a moment, Cub stiff in the doorway while Cleo waited to be invited in, under the impression they’d be eating together.

“I insist,” Cleo said, clearing their throat. “Can I fix you a plate? I’ll clear the counter, we can sit together.”

“Oh god,” the words seemed to fall on complete impulse, and while Cub lacked a filter on a good day, he seemed genuinely distressed he’d said that aloud, “Cleo, it’s a mess in here, seriously. I didn’t.. I couldn’t clean up before you got here. We don’t have to sit.”

“If you weren’t planning on having a guest, then I’ll go, Cub, you’ve just been holed up for a few days by yourself, and I thought the company might be good for you.”

“How would you know I was alone?” The question had a pointed edge, but the both of them near simultaneously looked over Cub’s shoulder, which fell in turn. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “You can stay.”

“I don’t have to,” Cleo was starting to feel bad, worried she was being too forceful, an anxiety that doubled when Cub glanced up at her, face blotchy and eyes red, looking so much like he was about to cry.

“Please stay.”

“I’ll stay, I’ll stay.”

Dinner was eaten mostly in silence, awkward especially because Cub couldn’t seem to bring himself to just sit down and eat, running around in a frenzy with a garbage bag like he could salvage the image of a neglected apartment in the wake of a bad illness with no one around to care for him. Cub had this dizzy look about him, unsteady on his feet, and Cleo really did believe he was ill, just running on a sudden frenzy of embarrassment fueled energy. Cleo tried to help, but this seemed to distress Cub further, and she really wasn’t trying to make him cry tonight.

Cleo watched him eat when he could finally bear to do it, the built up trash in piles by the front door. A sad, silent endeavor. Everything was so quiet without Scar around. Neither of them were used to holding a conversation alone, it seemed.

“Will you sit with me? Just for a little while,” Cub said once he finished, a true shock for Cleo who was convinced at this point he wanted nothing more than for her to be gone from his apartment, but she did not refuse. It must be lonely, being isolated here for so long. Cleo was starting to wonder if this was the aftermath of his father’s passing; holding out just fine for so long, then succumbing to the gravity of it a few months later. That must have been at least part of it.

They moved to his couch, several blankets scattered across it, and Cub sat close to her, quite close, but if closeness is what he needed right now, Cleo would not reject it. They wouldn’t have rejected it if closeness was just a fleeting want, as they had their own desires for human connection and warmth. Didn't everyone?

Cleo didn’t have many thoughts in those couple of minutes, sitting together with the TV volume on low, though neither of them were watching. She had feelings, the vague, swirling kind, the ones you couldn’t grasp on to, but were strong, so strong, nearly overwhelming. The static of the TV couldn’t compare to the noise in her own mind, loud and and swelling and formless, and when Cub’s spoke, his voice was almost lost in the waves.

“I’m in love with you.”

The world stopped spinning, or maybe Cleo stopped breathing, something happened, something completely beyond her in every possible way, something was happening, and then Cub was crying, no, sobbing, holding her, and Cleo hadn’t even said a word.

“Oh, god. Thank god. I was so worried- I was so scared you might not be real.”

“What?” Cleo nearly laughed, but they didn’t, this was too weird, too much.

“I told Scar. I told him, and nothing changed. I told him, I’m still in love with him, I love him, but he- he doesn’t- he isn’t-“

“So I’m second best,” Cleo mumbled, and this time she did laugh, because really, this was hysterical, wasn’t it. Maybe she was hysterical, there was certainly something monstrous blooming in her chest.

“No, not.. No, Cleo, I’m sorry, I don’t..”

“You want Scar, but you can’t have him. Scar’s a robot, and you don’t want a robot, and you didn’t believe me when I-“

“I know!” Cub wailed, but Cleo didn’t care, didn’t want to stop. She pushed him away.

“So that’s what this is about, of course. Of course! You can’t have him, but oohhh, at least there’s Cleo, Cleo’s human, and she made Scar, that’s nearly just as good. I don’t care if you’re fucking delusional, Cub, but you don’t get to paint me red as well.”

“I don’t love you.”

“I fucking know!”

“I’d still like to kiss you.”

“Then fucking do it already!”

There was nothing pleasant about it really, no, nothing pleasant at all, and it was pretty obvious it had been a while since they’d both done this, but Cleo was still trying to pry those puzzle pieces out of Cub’s hands, and as much as she didn’t want to kiss him, she wanted to be whole even more.

It was a wet kiss in all the worst ways, Cub’s face was wet, Cleo couldn’t touch him without getting wet, and that was gross, and so was the kiss for that matter. It was uncoordinated, they hated his spit on her lips, his tongue in her mouth, they hated it, and they would fight to keep it just like this, hot, wet, Cub fucking smelled, Cleo needed to make him shower after this, he was sweaty, or maybe they were both sweaty, both wet because Cub was crying so damn much.

It was not sweet. It wasn’t even erotic, but Cleo still let their head fall back when he kissed their neck, when his hands found their way under their shirt, almost hesitant, but far more desperate.

“Don’t stop,” she mumbled, and he did not.

…

When Cleo woke up, it was dark, and for a panicked moment they truly did not know where they were, eyes wide, momentarily grasping for anything familiar until their hands found him.

Oh.. Oh god.

“Cub. Cub.” Cleo reached to shake him, but she didn’t have to, his head turning slowly to reveal bleary brown eyes.

“What’s up,” he mumbled, so inaudibly that Cleo had to pause to parse what he’d said, though Cub seemed to take this silence as an invitation to turn back into his pillow. Cleo stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. He was warm, a little too warm; did he still have a fever?

“We need to talk about this.”

Cub blinked at her like he was confused, then reached for his phone to check the time. Half past 3:00 AM. He shrugged. “We might as well.”

“And you need to shower.”

“Fuck, I really don’t want to do that.”

Luckily, it took very little physical force to get Cub out of bed, and unlike Cleo, he was not wearing very many clothes, so. The two of them stood barefoot on the cold bathroom tile, watching the water warm up in uneasy silence, Cub with a towel around his waist.

“Are you just going to be standing here, or..” Was he waiting for her to leave? Well, that would be logical, wouldn’t it.

“You seem like the kind of guy that takes two hour showers, I can not wait that long to talk.”

Notably, Cub did not deny this. “I do not have to shower right at this very moment. We can talk. I want to talk.”

“You need to shower.” Cleo pursed their lips, more distressed in the moment by the fact that she fucked him when he was that gross and also sick and also crying than the whole.. fiasco before that. She also felt gross, but she could wait her turn. It’s not like she brought a change of clothes..

“Well, alright.” A little sheepishly, Cub slipped his towel through the shower door handle for easy access, then stepped inside. It wasn’t exactly like there were many physical barriers between them anymore, but Cleo could sympathize with the fact that this felt fucking weird. They were too restless to turn away. The fogged up glass covered most of him at least.

Cleo decided to let him get acclimated, and started. “Cub, I don’t really know what you’re going through here, but I think I’m owed some kind of explanation, because really, what the actual fuck.”

Cub shut off the water. “I can’t hear you.”

“I said What The Fuck.”

“I thought you said more than that.”

“That was the jist. Turn the water back on, you’ve got work to do.”

Cub grimaced, but did as he was told. Over the running water, he had to yell, “I’m really sorry, Cleo! I was in a bad place last night- tonight I guess, and I know that’s not an excuse or anything, that was a..” as Cub started to quiet down, his voice was lost to the water, and Cleo was starting to see the problem.

“What?” They called, and through the steam, they saw Cub blink.

“Sorry, what?”

“What did you say before? That last bit.”

“I- Oh,” and again Cub started loud, slowly trailing off as his voice returned to its usual mumble, “It’s not an excuse. I know it’s not an excuse, but if you want me to explain to you exactly where I was at with us both knowing I’m not trying to excuse it I think that might be helpful for…” and just like that, Cleo couldn’t hear him again.

“Alright, I’m coming in.”

“Wh- What?”

Cleo didn’t know if Cub was confused or if he genuinely didn’t hear them, but either way, the shower door to Cub’s quite small cubicle was open, and Cleo barged in, clothes and all. Yelling and scrambling on Cub’s end was probably appropriate, and honestly, what Cleo was doing in their delirious state was definitely not appropriate, but they couldn’t wait any longer.

“Why did you do it? Why did you tell me you loved me when I- we both know you don’t. We both know it. And that was- it- I like you, and who knows what that even means, but I like you and that was cruel. It was cruel, Cub.”

Cub breathed hard for a moment, probably still flustered by Cleo busting into his shower and getting soaked despite trying to keep out of the stream, but regardless, he straightened slightly, collecting himself.

“I know. I mean- I didn’t know you- I had no idea, really, but that doesn’t make it better, it was stupid all the way through, and I- okay, Cleo, can I just shut the water off?”

Cub reached for the knob, and Cleo slapped his hand away, overcome by something like panic, “No! No, I want it on. This is good.” It felt good. She was cold, and that felt appropriate, real.

Cub stared at her for a long time, not even moving the tuft of greasy hair that had fallen over his eyes. “I told Scar. I told Scar I loved him, I love him, and then I saw him. I saw his eyes when I told him. I saw him, and nothing changed. Nothing changed. He just smiled at me, crooked, sweet, like he always is. But he has no idea. He has no idea, and I saw it staring me right in the face, and it felt like everything was falling apart. And I was so scared. I was scared that it wasn’t just Scar, that I never noticed because I never- I never look, I just couldn’t remember if everyone I’ve ever known had nothing behind their eyes, I couldn’t remember, and I was so scared, and then I got sick, and it got so much worse.”

Cub looked at the ground. “It was just an excuse at first. Waking up with a sore throat, I thought what a good excuse not to come into work. So I don’t have to see him. See anyone. But then it.. It’s really been a while since I’ve gotten so sick, and I probably passed that all on to you..”

He took a deep breath, then snorted water out of his nose. Wiped the hair out of his eyes. “I didn’t plan that. I didn’t think at all. I just had to know if I’d really tricked myself so damn bad that I.. I don’t know. I was scared that you weren’t real, and I had to find out, and all I could think about was the way he looked at me. I was so convinced I’d lost everything to just- delusions. Believing what I wanted to believe, even when everyone in the world told me it wasn’t true. I didn’t know what to do. And I do like you, I don’t know- I mean, who knows anything these days, but.. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry about initiating too, I used you. I needed to feel good about myself and I used you, and it didn’t even feel good because I’m fucking sick and feel a little like I’m going to die all over.”

The following silence deafened, and Cleo didn’t know exactly what to say, so they distracted themself by pulling their damp hair behind their ears, wiping their eyes, itching a mild scratch on their arm. They wanted this to fix them.. They’d asked for an explanation and gotten one, but they only felt sick to their stomach.

“I don’t feel better.”

“I understand.”

“I think I’m going to go home.”

“You can stay, Cleo. At least dry your clothes, I’ll sleep on the couch when I’m done.”

“They’re not too wet,” Cleo mumbled, near inaudible, and shivered from the cold breeze as she opened the shower door. Too cramped in there anyway. “ I want to go home.”

Cub was quiet for a long few moments, watching with those somber eyes. He shut the water off. “Take care, please.”

“Bye, Cub.”

Cleo heard the water switch back on as she left the bathroom, leaving wet footprints in her wake. They did not take the trash on their way down.

///

After speaking very little to Cub in the past two weeks, the last thing Cleo expected was to have him running around her house like a chicken with its head cut off.

It was hard to care with a 102° fever though, and Cleo was so dead to the world that their only concern was the stomping of Cub’s shoes, shaking the couch pillows just enough to make Cleo feel like her head was going to explode. Why did he have to run around so much anyway? He was cooking- some kind of soup, Cleo was pretty sure. What was his problem?

But it was sweet, a little bit. Cub was as neurotic as a broody mother hen, but in a way, it was nice to be taken care of. No one had really done this for Cleo since her parents when they were a kid, and years upon years of lonely fevers had crushed the hope of someone else picking her up and making it all better, but..

Maybe it didn’t have to be that way. Maybe that practical reality she’d drilled into herself about the tenets of a life alone weren’t so needed anymore. She could call Cub, if she wanted to. He would come, even if he had to face Scar, he would come.

Cleo’s heart still ached, but not as deeply as her head. For now, it could be ignored.

Cub brought her a bowl to the side table next to the couch where say lay, cautioning her that it was hot, that she didn’t need to eat all of it, but she did have to drink more water, and after she’d had a few bites she should probably take another Tylenol, but not on empty stomach, and honestly after that Cleo started to zone him out.

Cleo pushed herself up to sit, peering into the bowl. It was.. well, she didn’t see a whole lot of broth. She had kind of been looking forward to that…

“I think I put too many of the noodles in. I just- I mean I used a lot of the box, but I thought well the box must be one serving, right? Why shouldn’t I use the whole thing? And then I did. And then the soup disappeared. Is it bad.”

Ah. That made sense. “I haven’t even tried it yet,” she mumbled with a weak roll of her eyes. Cub wasn’t usually a nervous talker, but a switch seemed to have flipped in him tonight.

Cub ran away, in what Cleo thought was terror of their impending opinion until he returned with his own bowl. Cleo took their first bite as he recentered the room, and honestly, had no idea what to think. Her tastebuds were out of wack from the illness, that was for certain, so she couldn’t really tell if this was actually that bad or…

Cub took his own bite. He sat down. Placed his bowl carefully on the coffee table. Put his head in his hands.

“Fuuuuuuck…”

“It’s fine, probably,” Cleo tried, though they really wished they could give him more feedback without the interference of messed up tastebuds. “You put salt in it, right?”

“I-I did! I tried! It really felt like a lot of salt, Cleo!”

“It always feels like a lot,” Cleo mumbled, but not without a smile. She took another bite. It wasn’t so bad. It soothed that desire for warmth against her sore throat and it.. no, it didn’t really do anything else. Cleo thought for a moment. “Did you season it at all?”

“The chicken broth was seasoned.”

“Did you season it?”

“Was..” Cub pursed his lips, staring miserably at his bowl. “I tried..?”

Yeah.. that checked out. Cleo closed their eyes, holding the bowl close to her face and throat. Breathing it in. They were pretty sure it smelled good.

“You’re sweet, I think so.”

“It’s terrible! It’s literally terrible!”

“It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad that your 30 year old adult ass can’t cook,” Cleo sighed, but they were not unhappy. It’s not like they would be able to appreciate a good soup anyway. “That’s okay.. It’s not, but you’ll learn.”

“I’d like to. I would, if you’d teach me.”

Cleo side eyed him, uneasiness squirming in their chest. Did they really want this? They thought they might, and as much as they hated getting burned, the fire was just so enticing, wasn’t it. It was hard. And maybe this wasn’t a commitment she would make with a foggy head and an aching heart. Tomorrow she might feel better, might not want to see him just like the weeks before. Cub looked up, and then immediately back down.

“Or I’ll- I mean- I could watch a video or take a class or-“

“I’ll teach you.”

“You will?”

“Yeah.. I think I’d like that.”

Cleo could worry about the truth of that statement another time. At the very least, if she changed her mind, she could always just say so. But she didn’t want to be angry. She didn’t want to be so sad. And she wasn’t quite ready to let this go, not just yet. Neither was he, it seemed. He’d already let Cleo back into his life once before.

Cleo closed their eyes, letting themself enjoy the warmth of the bowl against her neck. A problem for later. For now, they would let themself enjoy him.

#hermitcraft #hermitfic #hermitcraft fic #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #cubfan135 #zombiecleo #hermitshipping #convex #cubscar #club #cubcleo

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dexteri0us · 1 day ago

Text

i know i haven't been perfect, but give it some time; 'cause not a single day goes by where you don't cross my mind

pairing: dexter morgan x f!reader

warnings: fluff, injuries (burns and cuts), louis greene, and you know... dexter's dark passenger

summary: requested: "dexter being super protective of you and when he finds out someone hurt you he immediately starts hunting him to kill him"

w/c: 5.5k

a/n: spoiler alert? it made me sad that dexter didn't get to kill louis, so here we go.

Louis is taking me to the hospital. Don’t freak out. Lab mishap.

You pressed send and the text appeared in a blue bubble, under it, there was a Delivered sign that quickly turned into Read.

Which hospital?

Jackson Memorial.

I’m on my way.

You didn’t really like it when people fussed over you. It felt unnecessary and only brought you discomfort most of the time. But this time, you couldn’t deny the relief knowing Dexter would meet you at the hospital.

“Who are you texting?” Came the voice from the driver’s seat.

You cleared your throat and shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “My boyfriend.”

“Dexter?” Louis asked with a feigned curiosity.

You couldn’t stand him anymore; he was such a fake asshole it was physically hurting you. And today was honestly the last straw.

You’d spent the better part of your morning setting up your experiment, testing your final samples. The data was supposed to solidify your findings and allow you to finish your thesis.

Everything was in place, your samples loaded into the centrifuge as you triple-checked everything. Everything. The protocol, the settings on the centrifuge, spinning the rotor with your hand, ensuring that it was balanced and the lid was closed tight.

Louis had been hovering all the fucking time. You had tried to ignore him, but you couldn’t exactly tell him to go fuck himself. The lab at your school was a shared space.

“You really think you’re going to finish today?” He’d mocked you. But that didn’t throw you off. You knew you were, because you were prepared.

But then you stepped away from the centrifuge for just five seconds to retrieve your laptop. When you returned, you put the laptop next to the machine and pressed the start button on the centrifuge, causing it to whir to life, the rotor spinning faster and faster. Then suddenly, a sharp, metallic clunk echoed in the room, followed by a horrific screech. The centrifuge rattled violently and the lid flew open. Glass shards and liquid shot out like shrapnel and you barely had time to shield your face with your arm.

The pain was instant. A jagged piece of glass sliced across your forearm, and a burning sensation spread where the liquid splashed onto your skin.

“Shit!” Louis exclaimed, rushing forward with exaggerated concern. “Are you okay?”

You just clutched your arm, blood seeping between your fingers. The burn on your forearm throbbed, angry red splotches already forming. Your vision suddenly became blurred with tears of pain and frustration combined, but you held them back. You were not going to cry in school.

The commotion drew others into the lab, including your supervisor. And of course, Louis was quick to throw you under the bus. And, okay, you weren't wearing your lab coat, but nobody really was if they did something as simple as loading samples into a centrifuge.

Your supervisor sent you to the nurse, telling Louis to escort you in case you got dizzy. The nurse bandaged your arm and sent you to a hospital for further treatment. Louis chimed in, playing the part of a kind and worried colleague, and driving you there himself.

“Yes; Dexter. He’s on his way, so you can just drop me off and head back to the lab.”

“Nonsense. I can't have anything else happen to you.”

Bullshit. He wouldn’t even blink if the shards had hit your carotid artery and you bled out right there. Who knows, maybe that had been his plan all along. Louis had it out for you and Dexter, his petty vendetta against you couldn't be more transparent.

“Louis, please.” You closed your eyes in exasperation, your eyes still burning from the tears that tried to push their way through. “I know that you messed with the centrifuge. I don’t have proof, so don’t worry. I’m not gonna do anything. But at least have the decency to stop pretending that you’re innocent.”

You saw his jaw flex and his knuckles get white from how he clutched the steering wheel, but he didn’t say anything. Frankly, you were getting uncomfortable being alone with Louis in the car, but luckily, the hospital came into view.

You tried to convince Louis to go, but he wouldn’t budge. He knew you hated his presence, and he reveled in the feeling that he was making you uncomfortable. You also had a hunch he waited for Dexter so he could provoke him too. He was like a lurking predator, leaning against the far wall, as the nurse gave you a sympathetic smile, adjusting the bandage on your arm. The burn cream was cool against your skin, but the sting of the injury sent vibrations through your whole arm.

The door opened, and your muscles finally relaxed. Dexter stepped in, his focused gaze sweeping the room. His eyes landed on you first, taking in the bandage on your arm and the nurse’s careful work. Then, his gaze flicked towards Louis.

Louis straightened up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Dexter, hey! Don’t worry, YN’s alright. I made sure she got here safe.”

Dexter ignored him. If he hadn’t, he might have done something… nobody here needed to see. There was going to be time for that to do it right. Instead, he made his way straight to you.

“Hey,” you said with a tired smile.

His hand reached out to cup your head, his thumb brushing your temple and over the edge of your eyebrow in a soothing manner as his other hand hovered over your injured arm, as if to make sure it was still attached. His brows were furrowed, his shoulders and chest stiff as if he was holding his breath.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Getting burned by an oven hurts more.” You tried to lighten the mood, but humor wasn't exactly his way of coping.

“What’s he still doing here?”

“I think he wants to steal you away from me.”

“YN…”

“I don’t know, Dex. He’s a fucking vulture, you know that. I told him to leave, but he wouldn’t.”

You weren't even joking anymore; it wouldn’t surprise you if Louis had done this to get Dexter’s attention. Or get back at you for having Dexter’s attention. Louis had probably been obsessed with him long before you started coming to the Miami Metro’s forensics lab to work on your thesis. Louis, as a graduate and now a lab tech at your university as well as a senior intern at Miami Metro, was supposed to be your guide, to help you acclimate.

You had known Louis from school, and ever since he’d started working at Miami Metro, his ego had been bursting through the roof, so you hadn’t been so psyched when you’d found out you’d have to share a working space, but hey, what could you do. At least, he was genuinely eager to assist, proudly showcasing his knowledge of the lab’s high-tech equipment and Miami Metro’s most famous cases. But his favorite thing to do was name-dropping Dexter. Louis had never said it in those words, but Dexter was like a god to him.

“He’s a genius. Everyone here knows it. Stick with me, and you might even learn enough to impress him.”

You’d fought the urge to roll your eyes. “I’m here to work on my thesis, Louis. Not to waste my time.”

Louis had always been too loud, too close and most importantly, too self-important for your liking, and you’d thought back then already, that his admiration for Dexter bordered with obsession.

And when you finally met the famous Dexter Morgan, you were surprised how underwhelming it was. You actually expected another loud and arrogant scientist, but he was the exact opposite.

One morning, while you were struggling with the calibration of a piece of equipment, a calm and monotone voice spoke behind you.

“You’re off by a millimeter.”

You jumped out of your skin, closing your eyes to regain composure before turning around and finding Dexter with his hands in his pockets, just standing there. You hadn’t met, but you knew what he looked like.

“Fuck, thanks. Were you trying to give me a heart attack to keep me from using it? Jesus Christ.” You were still shaking off the jumpscare you just received.

“Sorry.”

“You’re good. Dexter, right? The guy who specializes in puddles.”

“Blood spatter analyst,” he corrected with a nod, and for a moment, you were taken aback by the lack of reaction to your joke. You introduced yourself and shook his hand, before he left without another word.

To him, you were just another in a parade of visiting academics, someone he’d forget as soon as your project ended.

Well, apparently, you liked to talk, making it hard for him to ignore you. It's not like you were targeting him specifically, you were just a naturally friendly person.

Vince's attention wasn't exactly hard to earn, especially if you were a woman, but Dexter noticed how you laughed even with Angel. Not that Angel was a touch-me-not, but it was still surprising to see you navigate the station with such ease, like a newcomer staking a claim in unfamiliar territory. You didn't force yourself into conversations; you didn't even have to. You had your own gravity around you, and people were magnetized to it.

“If you need something, Louis is your liaison.” He tried to brush you off one time, gesturing vaguely towards the open lab door.

“Oh, I know,” you replied, undeterred. “But Louis is busy explaining to someone how he’s basically the second coming of Einstein, so I figured I’d ask the real expert.”

But you didn’t wait for him to respond, taking the hint and leaving him alone. For now anyway. It made the corner of Dexter’s mouth twitch, but he caught himself and got back to his work. He thought about it for a moment before deciding that it would be suspicious if he was the only one ignoring you.

Over the next few weeks, you made a habit of dropping by his desk. At first, he found your presence… perplexing. You asked too many questions – some of them genuinely insightful, others just… so absurd. You often hovered just enough to be noticeable, but not enough to be intrusive. And your sense of humor seemed to exist solely to see how far you could push him before he reacted. And to create a bond with his sister.

You and Deb shared that bark, and he didn’t know what to make of it. The sarcasm often rang through the breakroom, and while he wasn’t one to eavesdrop, one time he heard a mention of his name.

“Does your brother ever smile?” you asked Deb, leaning against the counter.

“Well, you know, occasionally.”

“Yeah, what’s the occasion? Winning the lottery? Accidentally putting sugar in his coffee instead of salt?”

His brows furrowed in confusion. Why would I put salt in my coffee? But unlike him, Deb laughed.

“More like when someone's bleeding out somewhere. You don’t even wanna see that, it’s creepy as hell.”

“He’s fascinating actually,” you said when you stopped laughing, taking another sip of your coffee.

Fascinating. Most people called him odd, socially awkward, or at best, smart. His victims called him sick or a freak. But fascinating was new. And unsettling. He didn’t particularly like being noticed, but he found himself not minding your attention. Dexter realized that when he came in on Louis scolding you for talking him.

“He’s not your friend or your assistant, okay?” Louis snapped at you, his voice rising in frustration. “I am. So, stop bothering him and do some actual work.”

Before you could respond, Dexter stepped in, his voice firm. “Woah, Louis. Thanks, but I think I can handle myself.”

“I’m just saying, she’s supposed to focus on her thesis—”

“And she is. I also don’t mind helping her.” He turned to you then. “At least, when she ends up working here, she’ll already know the ropes.”

Dexter wasn’t serious, he didn’t even know if you ever wanted to work in forensics. But to Louis, the words felt like a slap. For months, he’d bent over backward to gain Dexter’s respect, but he’d never earned more than a dismissive glance. And you just waltzed in, cracked a couple of jokes, and suddenly, you were like Dexter's personal pet.

It was clear he didn’t like how Dexter responded to you. You noticed how his behavior changed, becoming petty even at your university lab. It was like he was waiting for you to make a mistake while his jokes grew meaner, more passive-aggressive

However, Louis was still essentially a random guy. He wasn't your superior, so you didn’t let him scare you off. If he wanted to report you to your school, you had Vince's backing, and now Dexter's too, you hoped. You believed you hadn't done anything wrong, you still got your work done, so there was no reason to feel guilty.

That meant that you never limited yout contact with Dexter, who also grew more responsive over the time. You figured out that most of his laughter stemmed in ridicule, with his brows furrowed and looking at you like you were an alien which made a smile grow on your face, so you decided to lean into it. Did it make you look dumb? Yes. Did it make Dexter laugh? Yes in capital letters.

Deb was the one who finally pointed out what you had been trying to make painfully obvious for weeks.

“Jesus Christ, Dexter,” she said incredulously, smiling at him as if asking are you serious? “Are you blind, or just stupid?”

He looked up from the folder, his expression blank. “What are you talking about?”

“YN. The girl from the lab. She’s been flirting with you nonstop, and you’ve been staring at her like she’s a new blood sample. Do you even know how to human?”

His whole face scrunched up, going over your past interactions in his head. “She hasn’t been flirting. She’s just… talkative.”

Deb rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle she didn’t sprain something. “Oh my God. You’re hopeless. She’s into you, Dex. And honestly? I think she’s kind of awesome. She’s smart, funny, and she’s got this great thing where she acts like an airhead just to see your face do that confused frown thing. It’s hilarious.”

Dexter’s frown deepened. “She does that on purpose?”

“Yeah, dumbass. Seriously, ask her out before she gets bored and moves on to someone who actually knows how to crack a smile.”

Weeks passed, and to Deb’s disdain, Dexter completely ignored her amazing advice. But she wasn’t one to sit idly by and she had had enough.

One afternoon, as you were bent over a microscope in the lab, Deb stormed in with an unyielding grip on Dexter’s arm.

“Hey, YN!” she said, her voice unnaturally cheerful.

“Uh… hey, Deb. What’s going on?”

She didn’t waste any time, her hold on Dexter's arm tightening as she shoved him into the room.

“Dexter has something he wants to ask you,” she announced, crossing her arms and giving Dexter an expectant look.

Fiddling with the pen in your hand, your eyes darted warily to Dexter, not really sure what was going on. And from the looks of it, Dexter didn’t know either. He looked genuinely confused, his eyes wide and his mouth opening and closing as if trying to form words, but nothing came out.

“Uh…”

“For fuck’s sake,” Deb groaned. “He wants to take you out. On a date. There. It’s done. The cat’s out of the bag.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. A warmth surged through you, a small flicker of happiness bubbling up, but then you saw the horrified look on Dexter’s face, and it fizzled just as quickly. You turned back to Deb.

“Wow, Debra. I didn’t know you moonlighted as a matchmaker.”

“I don’t. But someone has to get the ball rolling.”

“And the first step is holding someone hostage?”

“Hosta– are you fucking kidding me?” She turned to her brother, jabbing a finger into his ribs, making him flinch. “Dexter, tell her!”

But before he could say a word, you got up from your chair and headed for the door.

“I appreciate the effort, Deb, but can we discuss this later? I need to bring these to Louis before he has a meltdown.”

“Yeah, well, fuck him,” Deb said as she watched you leave.

“I’d rather not,” you quipped with a smirk, closing the door behind you.

But maybe Deb had a point.

Maybe he should ask you out.

It had been a while since he’d had a girlfriend, and perhaps it was time to change that. Saying no to you outright might be suspicious, and blending in was a cornerstone of his life. Besides, you weren’t so bad. Being around you wasn’t unpleasant. It made sense.

That's actually what he said when he finally asked you out: it makes sense. No fumbling over words or overly rehearsed lines. And you actually liked his reasoning. It was honest in its own way and you appreciated the lack of pretense.

That was one thing you’d learned about Dexter during your time at Miami Metro: he liked a logical approach, unlike most people who responded to emotion, whose actions were driven by feelings. He felt things, sure, just not in the same way, and he rarely expressed them outwardly.

It wasn’t like you were absolutely positive that it could turn into something meaningful or that a relationship with Dexter would last, but his way of interacting with the world was so unconventional that you simply felt drawn to it.

Dexter never really offered grand romantic gestures or gush over your presence in his life. But he noticed things you liked and made small accommodations for them. He listened with the intent to understand. And while he wasn’t exactly overflowing with emotion, you saw the quiet ways he cared.

You’d once mentioned in passing how receiving gifts made you uncomfortable, the pressure to perform gratitude leaving you uneasy. So when you joked that a specific brand of coffee was your lifeblood, he didn’t hand it to you wrapped in a bow. Instead, the next week, it simply appeared in the breakroom.

He wasn’t selfish about it, like most people were when they insisted on seeing your reaction. No, he just wanted to make you happy. And with that, he scored a double.

However, ever since you started going on dates, for the lack of a better word, because neither of you ever labeled it that way, he started second-guessing himself. He became more careful, often overthinking and calculating his answers. You suspected that Deb might have been partly to blame. She was too blunt sometimes, too quick to get into his head. But you made sure to let him know that he was more likely to scare you off by saying nothing rather than saying the wrong thing.

“You’re more confident about that than I am.”

You'd told him that he was the living embodiment of having a wall up. And not any wall. It was as if someone else had built it for him, and he was struggling to climb over it.

“You’re not even bad at climbing. You’re just trying to figure out where to put your hands.”

It was a strange way for your to put it, but you managed to create a whole think tank in his head which often left him with a dull ache between his eyes. He found himself admiring your honesty, the way you refused to put on a mask just to please the people around you or conform to societal expectations.

It’s not like you outright spilled your deepest, darkest secrets, but you gave him glimpses. You hinted at your own traumas that had shaped you, so matter-of-fact and so human.

It stirred something within him. For days, he debated whether to share his own scars, until he finally did, one night during a quiet walk along the beach. It felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from his chest when he told you about his mother, the blood, the screams everything. Well, almost everything. He expected recoil, but it never came. You didn’t judge, it didn’t scare you away; you just looked at him with the same attentiveness, maybe a joke on your tongue about how that explained his line of work, because that's how you coped. And somehow, knowing he knew that made it easier for him to breathe.

And that night was also the night he kissed you for the first time. He didn’t plan for it. He just simply looked at you and the moonlight twinkling in your eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a different kind of urge. One he didn’t have to fight or wait to satisfy it. He let himself feel.

Later that evening, you also invited him to spend the night at your place.

He’d be lying if he said that he regretted a single second spent with you. Yeah, you never seemed to stop talking, never seemed to stop moving.

“It’s like you’re daring your neurons to keep up,” he’d said to you one day.

“Well, I need to keep my synaptic connections in shape, right?”

But still, you made the chaos seem… manageable. You were a walking paradox, bringing a strange sense of order to his life, a balance. He started to think that this was his final and definitive chance at happiness. And he wasn’t going to screw it up. Nobody was going to take you away from him. Nobody, and it was in his control.

Before you could discuss it further, the nurse came back with a new bandage.

“Your boyfriend, I presume?” she asked with a warm smile, glancing between the two of you. But Dexter barely looked at her, his focus was entirely on you.

“Was it him?” He tilted his head toward Louis, his voice low enough that only you could hear, but you saw the nurse make her way to you to apply the bandage.

“Not here,” you murmured, darting a glance toward Louis, who was still lingering near the door.

The nurse, oblivious to the tension, spoke up. “She’s going to be fine. The burn isn’t deep, and the cuts didn’t hit anything major. Could’ve been worse. You might’ve earned yourself a Nobel Prize for dedication to science, though.”

She smiled, and you saw Dexter’s lips twitch into a grimace that was supposed to look like a smile.

“What chemicals?” he asked.

“Phenol and chloroform mix,” you replied, and the nurse followed up.

“Not ideal for skin, but we got to it quickly. Keep the bandage clean and dry, and she’ll be good as new.”

“Thanks,” Dexter said shortly. Then, turning back to you, he added, “I’ll be right back.”

“Dex…” you began, knowing very well where his mind had taken him. And honestly, a part of you didn’t even want to stop him, because you wanted Louis to leave you alone.

“I said I'll be right back,” he repeated, his voice stern.

Dexter straightened to his full height and walked toward Louis, a predator closing in on its prey.

“So? How is she?” Louis asked as soon as Dexter approached him.

“How do you think, Louis? I suggest you stop fucking around or I’ll make your life really difficult.”

“What?” Louis laughed with faux confusion. “I was just trying to help.”

“Yeah, and I think you’ve done enough. You can leave now. And if I find out you had anything to do with this, anything at all, you’ll wish it was you sitting on that hospital bed. Do you understand?”

“Geez, Dexter, are you –”

Dexter took a step closer without raising suspicion from other people.

“I’m serious, Louis. Do you understand?”

Louis nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Good. Now get out of my sight.”

Louis turned on his heel, but before making his exit, he turned to Dexter one more time. “Well… Catch you at work.”

Dexter ground his teeth, closing his eyes as he tried to suppress his need to protect you from Louis right then and there. He’d started seeing crimson the moment you texted him about Louis taking you to the hospital. Now, it was spilling everywhere, the red taking over his body, causing it to shake and ring in his ears. He wanted to fucking kill him. Louis had been trying to provoke him for quite some time, but he just crossed a line. Nobody will ever hurt you without consequences.

“Are you okay?” A soft voice brought him back to the present, your hand lightly brushing over his back as you tried to comfort him, ground him.

“No. I think I’ll kill him.”

You snorted. “Okay, drama queen,” you said, and hooked your arm around his, making your way out of the hospital.

Dexter hadn’t said a word during the drive, not a single one.

He’d even turned on his marching music, which he rarely did when you were with him. That was a signal in itself. He was thinking. Hard.

Once you reached his apartment, he tossed his keys onto the counter with an unusual force, and without a word, he headed straight for the first aid kit.

“Dex, I just got it bandaged. You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do. I want to see for myself.”

You weren’t entirely sure if this had something to do with the whole I don’t trust nurses thing or just general paranoia, but you decided not to argue.

“I know this isn’t your fault, but you should’ve worn your coat,” he said, his voice almost shaking as he held back from lashing out.

“I know.”

Dexter gestured for you to sit on the couch, taking a seat himself on the low table in front of you. He gently reached for your hand and began unwrapping the bandage.

“Tell me what happened.”

You described the incident in detail, including your suspicions that Louis might have been involved. Dexter gave you that Kubrick stare as his jaw tightened at the mention of Louis’ name.

When he uncovered the burn ringed by shallow cuts, he muttered a quiet Jesus.

“Once it starts blistering, you can’t scratch it, okay? It could get infected.”

“Yes, doctor,” you teased lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “That’s what the nurse said.”

It made his head twitch as he gave you a look. But he didn’t comment, instead gently placing your hand in his lap as he prepared a fresh bandage.

“Do you have any other samples left?” he asked, and it warmed your heart knowing that he cared about your lab work, too.

“Yeah, I should have some stored at the station,” you said. “Unless Louis decided to get rid of them too.”

“I’ll head back and check on them for you.”

“Well, I’m coming too. I need to get back to the lab, it’s not like I’m incapable of running the experiment again.”

That was a hard no. He didn't even have to think about it.

He didn’t like the idea of you being back at the lab, not when Louis was going to be there. But he also knew he couldn’t keep you away from the lab for long, so he needed to do this fast. He convinced you to stay at his place until the next day, at least. After all, you did feel tired from the burning pain and the pills that started to kick in. As Dexter stood to leave, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, before kissing you on the lips, anchoring himself to you before heading back to work. And to take care of Louis once and for all.

It was easy. Louis was obsessed with serial killers, but he still lacked the skillset Dexter’s usual victims challenged him with. Now, he was going to give him the full-time experience.

He broke into his apartment and waited until Louis got home. A sharp prick to the neck and strapping him to a chair. Not his usual routine, but this wasn’t really to satisfy his urges. This was to protect you.

Once he was all tied up, Dexter broke a capsule of smelling salt under his nose and Louis' eyes shot open. Dexter wasn’t going to waste much time here, but he brought something to make it more enjoyable for himself.

“Wakey-wakey,” Dexter’s voice broke through the fog of Louis’s confusion.

He blinked, before he started thrashing against the rope. “What the hell?!” he shouted, panic rising in his voice. “What is this?!”

Dexter stepped closer to him, a faint curl of a smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. In his right hand, he held a bunch of vials filled with liquid.

“Do you know what chemical burn feels like, Louis?”

“What?” he asked, confused at first, but then it dawned on him. “Wait, wait, wait! I didn’t do anything! I was just looking out for her. A-Accidents happen! Labs are dangerous places if you’re not careful, you know that!” Louis rambled, making Dexter watch him with an amused smile.

“Accidents don’t usually involve sabotage,” Dexter said evenly.

“Sabotage? Jesus, Dexter, you're blowing this way out of proportion. You're doing all this for some chick? Does her pussy feel that good?"

Dexter lurched forward, his fist connecting with Louis's face before he could react, the chair creaking against the floor as it moved with Dexter's strength. He leaned down to Louis’ eye-level, pointing a finger at his face. Louis squeezed his eyes shut, his bloody face scrunching in fear.

“Don't push it, Louis,” he said through his teeth. Dexter was quick to recover, his calm mask slipping back into place. “Let's talk about the fact that accidents always seem to happen when you’re around.”

Louis coughed, spitting blood onto the plastic-covered floor.

“You’ve got a pretty vivid imagination.”

Dexter’s lips twitched. He rose to his full height and backed away just to put down one of the vials and take a piece of cloth instead. He poured the chemical on it as he talked.

“It’s called pattern recognition,” he said, coming around the chair to stand behind Louis. “You should be familiar with that by now.” And with that, he stuffed the wet rug into his mouth. Louis twitched and thrashed, but Dexter was stronger. He made sure the cloth didn’t fall out, that Louis got the exact taste of what you’d gone through.

“How is it, Louis? You have my full attention now! The only time I’m willing to listen to your bullshit!”

He tortured him some more, before pulling the cloth out. As soon as Louis’ mouth was free, he started coughing. Then, Dexter poured some of the prepared solution on his glove.

“Did I get the concentration right, or was it too strong?” Dexter asked, rubbing his covered fingers together, the rubber shining under the kitchen light. Louis’ breathing quickened.

“Please. I won’t go near her again. I swear!” Louis cried out.

Dexter leaned in close again, his face inches from Louis’.

“You’re right. You won’t.”

And without further explanation, he pressed the gloved hand against Louis’ arm, holding it there long enough for the sting to start. Before Louis’ scream got too loud, Dexter stuffed his mouth with the rug again as he writhed in pain, the burning sensation spreading.

“That’s just a fraction of what she felt. And you’re lucky I’m in a forgiving mood tonight. Otherwise, I would pour it right into your fucking eyes, your mouth, I would cut your skin open and fill it up before stitching it back together.” Dexter put his still wet hand on a different part of Louis’ arm, watching him squirm. “I would make you fucking drown in it.”

Dexter stepped back, watching Louis’ chest rise and fall with his heavy breathing, some tears sliding down his cheeks, mixing with his blood. Dexter closed his eyes, bathing in that satisfactory feeling as he breathed in, the smell of chemicals and sweat and fear tickling his nostrils. He made his way to the counter where his knives were splayed out, taking the sharpest one and making his way behind Louis again.

“Goodnight, Louis.”

And with that, he sliced his neck, blood spilling onto the plastic underneath the chair.

When he came home that night, he found you still on his couch. Safe and sound. Your bandaged arm rested on the book you were reading, and when you looked at him, you greeted him with that casual smile of yours.

It was so genuine, so automatic. Like it had been waiting just for him. He couldn’t let himself be the reason you’d ever lose it, couldn’t let his or anyone else's world dim yours.

Without saying a word, he approached you, pinched your chin between his fingers and tilted your head to kiss that smile, because he knew it would only make you grin wider, and that’s what he wanted. He was making a silent promise, to you and to himself, to keep it safe, because seeing you light up like that, illuminating his dark world was everything he needed. And he wanted it to last.

#dexter morgan #dexter: request #dexter #dexter fandom #dexter morgan fluff #dexter morgan fanfiction #dexter morgan oneshot #dexter morgan imagine #dexter morgan x reader #dexter morgan x female!reader #dexter morgan x f!reader #dexter x reader #dexter fanfiction

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winchesterwild78 · 2 days ago

Text

Broken pt 6

Master List

Characters: Jensen x Reader (wife)

Warnings: mention of death, child injury, child birth

A/N: Idea given to me by @cheekygirl2309. This one is a little different than what I usually write. This chapter is the last one. Please enjoy

Minors DNI 18+

I was almost 8 ½ months pregnant and we were headed to the hospital for some tests and a checkup.

The most recent test had to be done at the hospital in the event it induced labor. I was terrified.

Jensen had wrapped filming so we were back home and planning for our newest arrival.

He put all his other projects on hold for a while so he was home when the baby came and afterwards.

Arriving at the hospital I noticed a flurry of activity. I overheard a nurse say there was a horrible accident and they had at least 5 casualties and a child coming in. My heart stopped.

“Honey, are you okay?” Jensen asked. “No. Did you hear her?” He looked solemn, “yeah I did.”

We got checked in and sat down. The nurse at the desk told us due to the emergency we would have to wait a little longer. We nodded.

I sat anxiously but I couldn’t stop thinking about the accident. A few minutes later I saw the ambulance pull up and they pushed in the gurney.

I looked up and saw the little girl. She had blonde hair that was matted with blood and her little hand was still clinging to her stuffed moose.

I gasped when I saw her and tears fell.

“Baby, don’t look.” “Oh Jens, look at her. She’s so tiny.”

They took her back and I stood to go to the bathroom. As I walked past the group of nurses I overheard them talking about the accident.

Apparently someone hit the van the little girl was in and her parents and other siblings were killed. I stood frozen, listening to them. My hand instinctively laid on my belly.

“Yeah. She’s all alone. No family, next of kin. She’s going to have to go to foster care when she’s released.”

I gasped softly. When I came back from the bathroom I was crying. Jensen held me, “Shh baby it’s okay. She’s going to be fine. The doctors are going to take care of her.”

I looked at Jensen, my voice barely audible, “She’s all alone Jens. Her parents, her siblings. They’re all gone. I heard the nurse say she had to go into foster care.” My heart broke for her.

I was still crying when the nurse called me back. Jensen’s hand on the small of my back as we walked through the winding halls.

That’s when I heard a soft voice crying out for their mother. I stopped walking. “Honey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Jensen asked as I stopped.

I shook my head no and followed the sound. I walked into the room where the little girl was. She looked so tiny laying in the bed. Still clinging on to her moose. Her tiny fingers held it like it was the only thing giving her life.

“Do you know where my mommy is?” Her soft voice asked as she looked at me. I sat down beside her, Jensen walked in the room.

“I know you. My mommy loves you.” She smiled softly at Jensen. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” Jensen asked. “My name is Nichole, and this is Sammy.” She held up the moose. Jensen chuckled.

“Well Nichole, I’m Jensen, and this is Y/N. We just wanted to come in and check on you. We heard you got hurt and we wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She smiled up at Jensen and then at me. “You have a baby in your tummy?” She pointed to my belly and I shook my head yes. “It’s going to be a little boy.”

“Mommy has a baby in her belly too but I’m not supposed to tell anyone yet.”

My heart sank. I looked at Jensen and the tears I’d been holding started to fall.

The nurse came in, “Mr and Mrs Ackles, we need to go.” We nodded and stood, I took Nichole’s hand, “We’ll be back sweetie as soon as we check on him, okay?” She nodded.

We went to the room where the test was going to be and all I could think about was Nichole. “Mrs. Ackles, did you hear me?” The nurse asked. “Oh I’m sorry, what?” “Can you lift your shirt for me? I need to go ahead and take a scan before we can start the amniocentesis.”

I shook my head and lifted my shirt. Jensen held my hand, “Breathe baby.” I nodded and took a breath in and let it out. My mind wandered from our baby to Nichole.

The doctor came in to perform the tests and I was told to lay very still. I was terrified, especially when I saw the needle. We really didn’t want to have the testing done, but due to the high risk of the pregnancy the doctor felt knowing all factors prior to the birth would be our best bet. We reluctantly agreed.

Once the test was over I had to stay still and at the hospital for a little bit. They wanted to make sure the baby was okay and there were no complications from the test.

After a few hours I was free to go. Before we left I told Jensen I wanted to see Nichole again. He worked his charm on the nurses and we were escorted to her room.

She sat on the bed playing with her moose and watching cartoons, Scooby Doo to be exact. A smile spread across Jensen’s face and he sat down on the chair beside the bed to watch it with her. You chuckled when you saw them.

“Want to sit with me?” Her sweet voice broke through as she looked at Jensen and scooted over in the bed. He smiled and nodded. He sat beside her, a little on the edge and a little on the bed. She climbed in his lap and snuggled down with the moose in her hand.

I sat on the chair opposite the bed and watched them giggle and watch the episode. My heart was so full.

We stayed for a few hours and then we were being told we had to leave because visiting hours were over. I tried to protest, the nurse in charge of her care placed her hand on my arm, “She’ll be okay. I’m here all night with her. You can come visit tomorrow. Besides, you need to get some rest too. For him.” She nodded to my belly.

I knew she was right, but I hated the idea of leaving her alone. She hugged Jensen tightly and gave me a hug too. Looking at my belly she asked if she could tell the baby good bye. I nodded, she placed her hand on my belly and got close. “Night baby. I can’t wait to meet you.” A pang of sadness ripped through my heart.

Jensen and I left the hospital and most of the ride home was quiet. He took my hand and kissed it softly, “Penny for your thoughts, sweetheart.” “Jens, she’s all alone. I hate that she's leaving that hospital and going home with strangers.” “I know, baby. She’s such a sweet kid.” I looked over at him and saw a smile on his face, “You really enjoyed watching cartoons with her didn’t you?” He smiled and nodded, “Yeah, when she curled up in my lap it really took me by surprise. Not to mention the moose she called Sammy. I guess her mom was a fan.”

I wasn’t sure how to tell him what I was feeling. It was absolutely crazy. Maybe it was the hormones from the pregnancy, maybe it was my maternal instinct, but something inside me wanted, no, needed to protect that little girl. I wanted to bring her home with us and make her a part of our family.

Jensen sat on the couch beside me and I took a deep breath. “Jensen, I want to bring Nichole home with us. I know it’s crazy, but that little girl doesn’t have anyone left in this world and I can’t shake the feeling she’s meant to be with us. I know we’re about to have a baby, but honey, I can’t just let her go into a foster home where she might not be loved.”

“Really? Are you sure? That’s a lot at once, and you just lost your dad. I don’t want to add more to you.” “Yes, I’m sure. Didn’t you feel it? Sitting there with her? She loves Scooby Doo, and has a moose named Sammy. Jensen it’s like the universe was screaming at us. To be there at that exact moment she was brought in. The test was rescheduled for today due to equipment issues. This just seems like we were meant to be there, and find her.”

“Okay, let’s see what we can do, and yes I felt it too. It was perfect.” He leaned over and placed a soft kiss on my lips. “I love you so much, Jensen.” “I love you too, Y/N.”

Over the next few days we went to the hospital to visit Nichole. Each day she got stronger and she and Jensen watched Scooby Doo, cuddled in the bed with Sammy the Moose.

While they watched tv, I talked to the nurses and the social worker about us taking her. The social worker told me we would have to be approved as foster parents and they’d have to do a home inspection, but she didn’t see any issue with it.

I asked if they had told her about her parents and siblings yet, and they said they hadn’t. It broke my heart. “Well, we want to be there when you tell her. I don’t want her to be alone.” They agreed.

I walked back into her room and told Jensen I needed to talk to him for a second. “Nichole sweetie, I need to step in the hallway with Y/N real quick. I’ll be right back.”

Nichole was sitting playing with her toy and said, “Okay Daddy.” Jensen whipped his head around and looked at her. Her eyes went wide, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call you that.” She started to cry and Jensen was at her side. “Shhh, it’s okay sweetheart. It’s fine. It didn’t bother me.” He wiped her tears away with his thumb. “You’re not mad?” Her voice barely a whisper. “No, not at all. Now I’ll be right back, okay?” She smiled softly and nodded.

Jensen smiled softly as he thought about her calling him daddy. “Jens they said we had to go through the process of being foster parents and they needed to visit the house. The social worker also said they haven’t told Nichole about her family yet. They agreed to wait and tell her with us.”

“Okay, let me call my lawyer to get the paperwork started. He can put a rush on it since she’s being released soon. Even if they grant us temporary foster parent status. They can do the home visit whenever.”

I nodded. He kissed my forehead, “Are you ready to be a mom times 2 in a matter of weeks?” I chuckled, “You better believe it.”

I walked back in Nichole’s room while Jensen called the attorney. “Is Jensen mad at me?” She asked. “Oh no sweetie, not at all. He just had to make a phone call.” She nodded. “He’s gonna be a great daddy. I just know it. He watches Scooby Doo and does funny voices with Sammy.”

“Yeah, sweetie, he’s going to be amazing.” “Miss Y/N, do you know where my mommy and daddy are? I haven’t seen them.”

My heart sank. I didn’t know how to answer her. I swallowed hard. Her big brown eyes looked into mine with a thousand questions behind them.

I knew it was time to tell her. Jensen walked in just as I was starting to panic a little.

“How are my two favorite girls?” He asked and smiled at Nichole. She beamed. “I think we’re good. I asked Miss Y/N if she knows where my mommy and daddy are.”

My eyes met Jensen’s and he sat down on the bed with her. I took her hand as she snuggled in his lap.

“Sweetie, you know how you got hurt badly when the truck hit your car?” She nodded. I took a deep breath, “Well your mommy, daddy, sister and brother got hurt badly too.” Her eyes looked at me and then at Jensen, searching for answers. “Are they still hurt?” “No baby, they aren’t hurt anymore. They um, well, they died sweetie.”

It took a minute for her to register what I had said. Silent tears started to fall. The only sounds were whimpers as she clung to Jensen’s shirt. I instantly climbed on the bed with them and wrapped my arms around her. “I’m so sorry baby girl.” Jensen kissed the top of her head and then mine. I cried as I held her.

Her little body was shaking with the sobs that left her lips. “Where am I going to go now? If I don’t have a mommy or daddy, does the hospital keep me?”

“No sweetie. You go into foster care. You know Ms Johnson, the nice lady that’s been coming to see you?” Nichole nodded. “Well her job is to help find you a family that can take care of you.”

“Can I still take Sammy?” I nodded, “Of course you can, sweet girl.” The baby started kicking wildly in my belly and Nichole felt the kicks. She giggled. “He keeps kicking me. He must like me.” She said.

“I bet he does.” She placed her tiny hand on my belly and laughed each time the baby kicked and moved.

“Miss Y/N, does Ms Johnson know who my mommy and daddy are going to be?” “Well, she isn’t sure yet, but she has some ideas.” “Can you and Jensen be my mommy and daddy? I can help you with the baby. I can help change diapers and get his bottle. I promise I’ll be the best big sister ever.”

“I know you will, baby. We did ask her if we could. They just have to make sure everything is okay and then if you want you can come home with us.”

She looked at me and then up at Jensen, “Yes! I want to go home with you.”

A week later everything was ready for Nichole to be discharged and to come home with us. Jensen had set up a room for her and bought her a stuffed squirrel to go with her moose. I giggled when I saw it. “What? She has to have a Dean to go with her Sammy. It’s the rules. I didn’t make them.” I smiled, kissed him and touched his chest, “She’s not even here yet and she’s got you wrapped already.”

He rolled his eyes and laughed. “What can I say, I gotta keep my girls happy.” We headed to the hospital to pick up Nichole.

Jensen had bought her a new outfit to wear home. It seemed very similar to the one he was wearing, jeans, a band shirt and a flannel, and don’t forget the boots. She was adorable, he was adorable.

After she was discharged Ms Johnson had us sign some last minute papers and told us she’d be checking in on Nichole’s adjustment. We thanked her and left.

Nichole sat in the backseat and switched between talking and singing the whole way home. When we pulled up and got her out of the car she looked up at the house and then at us, “Is this a hotel?” Jensen chuckled, “No sweetie, it’s your new home.” Her voice soft, “Wow.”

The three of us walked inside and we showed her around. Then Jensen took her by the hand and led her to her bedroom. “This is your room, Nichole. If you want to change anything let us know and we will.”

We walked in and she immediately saw the squirrel. “It’s Dean!” She giggled as she grabbed it. Jensen looked over at me with a smug look on his face, “See told ya.” I smirked and rolled my eyes.

“Alright you two, I’m going to cook lunch. You two have fun.” I walked downstairs to the kitchen and started making lunch. I heard Jensen and Nichole playing and it filled my heart with so much joy.

The past few months have been a rollercoaster. Jensen and I almost split up, my father dying, the high risk pregnancy. All of it seemed to come to a head, but this, helping this little girl, bringing her into our family felt perfect.

I walked upstairs to get Jensen and Nichole for lunch when I heard Jensen doing his Dean voice. “Come on Sammy, we have to go find Cas.” Nichole did her best Sammy voice, “Dean, Cas is gone. He went to get ice cream.” I heard Jensen laugh and Nichole giggle.

“Hmm I don’t remember ice cream in Supernatural.” Jensen said as Nichole erupted in laughter.

I stepped in the room, “Okay you two, get washed up for lunch.” Jensen and Nichole nodded and walked to wash their hands. As Jensen walked past me he placed a kiss on my lips.

The day went by in a bit of a blur. We spent most of the day getting Nichole used to the house and of course us. As the night wore on I started to get a little nervous about how she’d sleep. Jensen and I decided to start a nighttime routine with her, bath, book, bed.

All electronics were turned off an hour before bed, this included the television. Jensen and I put our phones away and were completely present with her. I gave her a bath, washed her hair and after getting her dressed, Jensen brushed her hair as I cleaned up the bathroom.

She picked two books for us to read after she brushed her teeth. She snuggled into her bed with Sammy and Dean. Jensen sat on the bed beside her and I sat in the rocking chair.

Jensen began reading to her and I noticed her eyes getting heavy, but she was fighting sleep. Her eyes would close and she’d pop them back open. “Nichole, sweetie. It’s okay. You can go to sleep.” She kept fighting it.

Jensen looked down at her, “Sweetie, what’s wrong?” “I don’t want to go to sleep.” “Why not?” Jensen asked with concern in his eyes. “I think if I go to sleep when I wake up you two will be gone too.”

I looked at Jensen confused, “Honey what do you mean, we will be gone too?” “I fell asleep in the car and when I woke up mommy and daddy were gone. I don’t want that to happen again.”

“Oh sweetheart, we aren’t going anywhere. I promise.” “Want me to stay here tonight with you?” Jensen asked her. She nodded, “Yes please.”

“Okay, let me go get ready for bed and I’ll be right back, okay?” She nodded, snuggled down in the bed and smiled sleepily. He kissed her head and left the room.

Jensen came back a few minutes later with his gray sweatpants and old t-shirt on, a blanket and his pillow. He made a bed on the floor and finished reading the stories to her.

She slowly started to fall asleep. I leaned down, kissed her head and then hugged Jensen. “You’re pretty great at this dad stuff already, you know that?” He smirked, “Yeah, I guess so. Are you going to be okay in bed alone tonight?” I nodded, “Yes I am. I love you, Jensen.” “I love you too, Y/N.” We kissed each other good night and I left the room, heading for bed.

*time jump birth*

The doctors decided it was safer for me to be in the hospital when I gave birth, so they wanted to induce me. The plan was to have a natural birth and only do a c-section if there was an emergency.

Jared and Gen came into town to stay with Nichole while Jensen was at the hospital with me. Nichole loved her “Uncle Jared” and Jared loved her moose named Sammy.

I was hooked up to the machines and the doctor came in to check me before they started the medication to induce. “Everything looks good so far. We’re going to start the medicine soon.” Dr Ellington said before she left the room.

I took Jensen’s hand, “This is it, baby. Our little boy will be here soon.” He kissed my forehead, “Yeah baby. I can’t wait.”

Dr Ellington had come back and started the medication to induce labor. My labor progressed quickly, shocking not only her but us as well.

I was 10 cm dilated and 100% effaced, “Looks like someone’s in a hurry to meet his family.” She chuckled. “Are you ready, Y/N?” I nodded and took a deep breath.

“Okay sweetie. On this next contraction I want you to give me a little push, okay?” I nodded. Jensen held my hand as the nurses and doctor got into position. “Okay, push.” I began pushing and held Jensen’s hand tight.

“You’re doing great sweetheart.” Jensen smiled down at me. I looked up at him, scared and excited.

“You’re doing great Y/N, keep going, I need a big push this next time.” When the next contraction hit I pushed hard. I was exhausted and in pain.

After about 30 minutes of pushing I felt like I couldn’t go on. Jensen cupped my face, “Y/N, you’re doing amazing. Just a few more pushes baby and he’ll be here. You can do this. Think about holding him in your arms and helping Nichole hold him. You’ve got this baby.” He kissed my lips and grabbed my hand.

I leaned back up and on the next contraction I pushed with everything I had. “That’s it. I see his head. Come on, Y/N. Push!” I pushed harder.

The next two pushes his head was out, then his shoulders. Before I knew it I heard his sweet little cry filling the room. The doctor placed him on my chest, Jensen cut his cord and I was completely in love.

Staring up at me was the most perfect baby I’d ever seen. His piercing green eyes blinking at the bright light, and his cry fading to a whimper. Ten fingers, ten toes, and a perfect little nose.

I was crying, Jensen was crying. “He’s perfect, baby. Thank you.” Jensen kissed my lips and then kissed his head. The nurse took him to clean him, weigh, and measure him. They assured me once I was done and cleaned up I would have him back.

When we finally got settled into my room, he was brought back to me. Cleaned, dressed and swaddled like a little burrito. Jensen took him out of the bassinet and handed him to me.

I was completely and irrevocably in love with him. “Look what we did, Jensen?” I smiled up at him with tears in my eyes. “I can’t wait for Nichole to meet him. Now our family is complete.” Jensen took pictures and sent them to family and friends.

Y/N and I would like to introduce you to Jonathan Michael Ackles. Born today at 7:45 pm, weighing 8lbs 8oz and was 22 ½ inches long. Mom and baby are healthy and doing great.

Jensen picked up baby Jonathan and held him. He was beaming with so much love. I snapped a picture of him.

Once Nichole, Jared and Gen arrived at the hospital everything seemed perfect. Nichole carefully climbed on the bed beside me and held Jonathan. She told him all about Scooby Doo and her stuffies. Then she told him she was going to be the best big sister ever.

“I love you, baby Jonathan.” She looked at me and Jensen, “And I love you Mommy Y/N and Daddy Jensen.”

A few tears fell from my eyes. My heart was completely full and not as broken as I thought.

Tags are open, if you want to be added or removed, let me know.

Tags:

@nescaveckwriter @kr804573

@k-slla @jackles010378

@jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

@roseblue373 @cheynovak

@jassackles @chriszgirl92

@suckitands33 @arcannaa

@n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78

@smoothdogsgirl @hobby27

@manicjk @stoneyggirl2

@deans-spinster-witch @snowayumi

@shadowqueen1318 @shanimallina87

@muhahaha303 @fitxgrld

@nancymcl @baby19sthings

@cheekygirl2309 @oceean

@kindollss @foxyjwls007

@lmg14 @cevansbaby-dove

@spxideyver @reignsboy19

@deans-baby-momma @deansimpalababy

@ladykitana90 @quietgirll75

@superrey @kamisobsessed

@obliviousap @ninii-winchester

@mischiefnevermanaged89-blog @whimsyfinny

@bobbdylan @star-yawnznn

@reignsboy19 @monkey-d-hoshizora98

@depressionbarbie2023 @livingdeadblondequeen

@mandee7 @barnes70stark

@spnaquakindgdom @djs8891

@pughsexual

#hes gorgeous #so damn sexy #jensen ackles #jackles #jensen ackles x plus size reader #jensen ackles x reader

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respectthepetty · 3 days ago

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Hello @respectthepetty 👋

I realy looove your colour analysis you put for every show, but specialy for this one.

You keep bringing up questions like why Kant doesn't show his true colours and why he is wearing different colours every episode.

So it got me thinking and I re-watched the show from the start. And I think Kant is "wearing" blue colour because it is Babe's colour. Frome the very first episode, we see Babe wearing blue. So I think why Kant is wearing so many colours and especially blue because he "lost" his true colours while he was raising his brother, like he "lost" himself.

What are your thoughts? 🤔

I hope my mumbling makes any sense.

Also, thank you so much for your work, and it is always fun to read your colour analysis.💙

~ Anna.

By "colour analysis" you mean my fixation on Fadel with some mild commentary about colors each week?

If so, I also love writing them, so I'm glad you are enjoying them! I truly didn't believe a Director Jojo and Cinematographer Rath show would give me colors in the first place, so I was only really showing up to watch JoongDunk, and the colors are just an added bonus!

But that is also the problem because I wasn't expecting color-coded boys in love, then Joong said he believed it was color coded, and then the show said it was color coded, and now I'm stuck in this loop of trying to figure out how Kant is colored blue instead of going with my instinct that he is green (or yellow). It's like his car which keeps changing colors.

And as much as @slayerkitty wants me to recognize bi-colored characters, I'm not there yet. Instead, I'm working to an answer that doesn't align with what I'm seeing, so now I'm at a loss for words.

So let's test out your Babe is blue theory (and Kant lost his green/yellow color)!

Don't worry! I can focus on two things at once like how I write about Fadel being attractive AND colors! Right? Right!

I need to breathe first though because to go on this journey, I must face my sworn enemy — school uniforms.

Okay. I'm ready! Babe wore blue in the first episode. He also has a blue backpack. Note that green and yellow are on the couch and pillows, while Kant wears yellow socks.

Also note, Kant also has yellow shoes in the green lit bowling alley scene.

Kant's studio is also green (and yellow).

And so is his room.

But I'm supposed to be focusing on the blue (and not the green creeping out of the corner).

But it's just soooooo loud!

Okay! Refocusing! Babe is reading a blue covered version of Othello while wearing a dark blue and . . . OH GIVE ME A BREAK! Is that yellow?!

Babe is wearing a dark blue and yellow striped shirt with green shorts while eating in his green kitchen with his brother who is in blue.

I GIVE UP!

I can't keep fighting myself anymore! Babe can be the Blue Boy (even though I think Style is becoming a loyal and stable Blue Boy as he falls in love with Fadel).

Because I think Kant, in his heart, is either yellow or green. OR BOTH! Ya hear that @slayerkitty. I acknowledged the possibility of bi-colorness.

THE BOWLING BALLS ARE THEIR COLORS FOR GOODNESS' SAKE!

And now I have to wait two weeks before I can see Style in blue, Fadel in black, Bison in red, AND KANT IN GREEN AND YELLOW!

Thank goodness Fadel is beautiful because I am stressed about this show!

*clings to Style in pink knowing he loves Fadel and will do anything for his Black Brooder while KANT STAYS ON HIS COLOR BULLSHIT*

I have not been this upset at a man for color games since these two pendejos.

Kant with his color nonsense is my enemy until further notice.

Is that . . . it is . . . yellow on Bison's collar!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#the heart killers #the colors mean things #but Kant is my enemy now so who knows what his color is #Babe can be the blue boy #but U think Style is coming for that color and his man #but Kant?!#WHO KNOWS!#Not me! That's for certain #thanks for the ask!

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starhvney · 20 hours ago

Note

Hi!! Saw your requests were open for the December event and got super excited!

Can I order a coffee, with cinnamon and an apple turnover for Laurance and Gene MYS? :D My friend and I absolutely adore your fics, keep it up!!

𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟔: 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫!!

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: established relationship, hurt/comfort, reader is sick

𝐚/𝐧: ugh i love laurance and gene sm. also, thank you!!! i hope you and your friend like this one, too!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ☆ 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

“My love, my light, my everything, if you try and get up one more time when I’m not looking I will have to chain you to the bed.” Laurance tilts his head up, looking down at you with a half-joking, half-serious warning in his eyes.

You freeze on the edge of the bed from where you were attempting to get up and walk around. Ever since your doting lover found out you were sick you’d barely left this bed if only to use the bathroom. While you enjoyed his insistence on pampering you (which he did regardless if you were sick or not), you’d been feeling pretty useless and bored after doing nothing in your bed the past few days.

As you’re about to argue for your freedom, the savory scent of soup hits you, and you glance down at the steaming bowl held in his hands.

“…What’s that?”

He grins, coming to the bedside and—with one hand—grasps onto your ankles to move them back onto the bed before plopping himself right next to you. “Delicious soup, homemade by yours truly, of course.”

“I told you you can just give me canned soup. You don’t need to keep cooking something for me every time I need to eat…” you murmur, sitting straighter and trying to reach for the bowl.

He scoffs, seeming almost—no, definitely offended at the notion as he pulls the bowl away. “Do you really think I’d do anything less for my girl? Also, stop trying to grab it, you know I’m going to be the one feeding you.”

“I’m not incapable of feeding myself.”

His eyes soften, setting the spoon back in the bowl for a moment to brush your cheek with his fingers. “I know you can, my love. But I want to do it for you anyway. Just like I’ve brushed your hair and done your laundry. I like taking care of you.”

Your chest warms at his matter-of-fact tone, his insistence on how simple doing all of these things for you was for him making you practically melt on the spot. He sighs softly, eyes sparkling with admiration before he picks up the soup spoon, gently blowing on it and testing the heat on his own lips before lifting it to yours.

You gladly take it, the liquid soothing on your dry, sore throat. The taste—while a bit dimmed from your stuffed nose—was amazing. It was herbal with sweet undertones, the mix a perfect remedy for your symptoms.

“D’you like it?” he genuinely asks, eyes darting across your face for a reaction. “I threw some different stuff together. It’s a new recipe I just made up.”

Biting your lip, you glance to the side, a playful cadence in your tone. “Hmm… I don’t know…”

He narrows his eyes, tilting his head down and looking up at you through his lashes.

“…Just kidding. It’s delicious.”

“Mhm, that’s what I thought.” He smirks, lifting up another spoonful and cooling it before speaking again. “How about after this, since you’re so bored, we can play a board game or something?”

You take in the spoonful, humming gratefully before responding. “That would be perfect. Thank you, love.”

“Anything for you.”

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄

“Hm. You know, I don’t think you’re supposed to be doing that, doll.” Gene leans on the doorway, eyes playfully narrowing at your form as you hunch over the sink—cleaning away at the dishes. He sets down the grocery bag on the counter when you sheepishly refuse to respond, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist and press a kiss against the side of your head. “How’re you gonna get better if you keep refusing to rest?”

“I’m already feeling better than yesterday…” you murmur, leaning back into his chest as you let the soothing warm water continue to run over your hands.

“But you’re not better. Just cause you feel better today doesn’t mean you’re fully healed, silly girl.” He scoffs, pinching your sides. “Why don’t you just let me take care of you?”

“Because I’m fine…” you stubbornly whine, trying to wriggle away from his mischievous hands to no avail.

“No, you’re not…” he parries back, mimicking your tone with an amused lift to it.

You open your mouth to refute his statement once again, but not before getting spun around in a quick motion. Taking no care for the water still on your hands, he leans down to scoop you up in his arms, setting you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes before straightening again.

“Wh- Gene!” you yelp, receiving a short laugh in return as he spins around twice with you in tow, your flipped vision blurring and spinning with the tiles.

He starts to walk out of the kitchen with a wide stride, disorienting your already dizzy head as you try to recover from his sudden attack. Low groans leave your mouth as the man lugs you off into the house, your headache you’d been fighting off all day coming back full force in an uncomfortable throb against your temples.

Only a moment later you’re set upright again as he gently places you onto the couch. He rests his hands on his knees and bends forward, eyes darting over your form as you pathetically melt into the couch with another disoriented huff.

“Yeah… You still gonna argue with me that you’re better now?” He raises his eyebrows. “You look like you’re gonna throw up.”

“You threw me over your shoulder!”

“I’ve done it plenty of times, sweetheart, and you never complained before. So you’re either admitting you’re still sick or lying.”

Your mouth gapes open, no further defenses coming from your mouth as your head continues to throb. In the small moment of your hesitation he huffs in satisfaction, his large hands cupping your face gently as he leans in for a deep kiss, lips pressing into yours intently.

“Mph! You’re gonna get sick!” You shove him back by the shoulders with wide eyes. He only separates enough to look you in the eyes, his face turning smug.

“But I thought you weren’t sick, baby.” he whispers, lips quirked up.

You flop over on your side in defeat, groaning when your head throbs again in protest at your quick movement. Gene follows, leaning over you and brushing your face with a genuine pitiful look on his face. Leaning down, he kisses your cheek before pulling back, looking over the state you were in with a sigh.

“Your head hurts?”

You nod.

“M’sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel worse.” he says gently. “I’ll get you some more medicine and then we can cuddle on the couch. Okay?”

“Okay…”

“Good. Now stay here, doll.”

taglist: @wasting-away-on-the-internet @angelhyperfixates @valentique @arienic @dazedbydeath @theaquaticplant @starsbrightly @kalegrinch @izzybella1807 @marst4rz @vyladsgirl @allieyaaa

#☆ star's inbox!#aphmau #aphmau mystreet #mystreet #mystreet x reader #laurance zvahl x reader #mystreet laurance #laurance zvhal x reader #laurance zvahl #laurance x reader #mystreet gene #mystreet gene x reader #gene x reader #aphmau gene

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lemonmaid · 2 days ago

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Deep Wonders of the Ocean.

Warnings: very injured viktor, m/m, Jayce's morals get tested- nah bro gets gaslit.

Series will be updated on my ao3

It was peaceful.

Well as peaceful a beach could be, it was Jayce's day off in the first time in MONTHS, frankly he couldn't seem to relax.

Before he left his (mother's) place, he was finding every excuse of why not to go-

'What if there is a emergency-'

It took his mother locking all the doors to the house to keep him out, "go away and relax!" She yelled from the window.

Jayce at first put his hands in his pocket, kicking the dirt, before sighing loudly then making the decision to go for a walk.

As he walked through the neighborhood, he made his way towards the cliff and stood against the edge of the railing that leads down to the beach. Sighing and looking down at his phone, scrolling back and forth between the home menu and the messaging app, he let out a big huffed before shoving his phone in his jeans and proceeded to walk down to the beach.

As he stared out into the horizon, he couldn't help but feel an inch in the back of his mind, call him paranoid or anxious, but there was a nagging feeling that he was needed somewhere- or that he had better things to do- more work to be finished. He felt a gray feeling in his chest, hollow.

He sat in the sand, listening to the waves beat agasint the shore, the clouds turning the sky gray.

He thought to himself, 'is this what my life is supposed to be? Just work'.

There was a moment of silence, where instead of focusing on the sounds of the ocean he began to focus on the nagging feeling in his heart. 'Was... life truly this draining- is he just ment to work where all he can think about is work?'.

The nagging feeling was growing again, feeling heavy on his chest, the growing thoughts of he could be doing something much more better- how he is wasting the minute being unproductive like this- people where counting on him and he is "relaxing".

Jayce felt himself choke up, his chest was feeling heavier by the minute, he kept listening and pondering at the thoughts that just grew in his head.

It was a small cry that took Jayce out of his thoughts. Jayce's head immediately turned to the small cry by the dock, he doesn't know what was happening. But something in his mind was just making him follow the cry.

As Jayce got closer to the dock, his eyes landed on a small figure huddled under dock. Thinking of the worst, Jayce rushed his movement, the sand was getting everywhere now, it was in his socks, his shoes- his hair.

Jayce was shocked, I mean it's not everyday you find a merman- but he was more shocked at the amount of blood pouring from the tail. The nets or other human pollution was obviously suffocating the tail itself, the merman looked up at Jayce with a daze in his eyes.

It made a cooing sound towards the hunk, not a hiss or an ounce of aggression but a coo.

Maybe the merman was also surprised by Jayce's appearance.

Jayce seemed to snap out of his daze, pulling out his phone and a small pocket knife from his jacket.

He hushed the merman and began to start cutting the string and trash off the tail, with his free hand he dialed his coworker's number, "Mel? It's me. I need help right away- no- animal recuse team immediately- get the lab ready".

#arcane imagine #jayce x viktor #viktor league of legends #viktor arcane #jayce talis #arcane jayce #jayce league of legends #mermaid au #arcane mermiad au #merman viktor

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a-blessed-feline · 9 hours ago

Note

Thank you! As the creator of Return of the Arcwyrk, Disjecta Membra, and Feline's Furnishings, (and I also made the tile for Cleaning Robots) I'm really glad to see that there are people out there who enjoy my mods (and mods in general, the modding community for this game is incredible). I can also second the recommendation for Eule's mods, though Exile's Refuge is the only one of hers that I've played. It's a bit broken at present as far as I know (and also not entirely balanced), but hopefully it'll get an update soon as the writing, characterization and especially the maps are all utterly incredible. In a similar vein, there's also Jademouth, another really cool settlement mod that adds a new village to the mountains west of the Banana Grove (and also breaks the economy wide open, though the basegame already does a good job at that).

If you want to make your own village, though, I cannot recommend Hearthpyre enough. It allows you to establish your own settlement wherever you like in Qud, and recruit your own merchants, tinkers and wardens to populate it. I made a village with it once, many versions ago, and I feel like I only scratched the surface of what can be done with it.

Other mods that I've really enjoyed are Poke Poke Boom, which makes artifact examination both slightly more interesting and slightly more perilous, and Highlight Unread, which is a really neat QoL mod that helps you keep track of what data disks and merchant advertisements you've already familiarized yourself with. Lastly, there's also John Snail's delightful Qud Randomizer, which does exactly what you assume it does and which is perfect for when you grow tired of the regular Qud and instead just wish to embrace pure chaos. I cannot guarantee you it'll work on the current patch, though.

And yeah, I'm a bit sad about just how hard the new story for 1.0 clashed with the ideas I had established for Disjecta Membra, though I'm still really proud of all the writing I did for that mod. I already have vague ideas for how to rewrite things to make the mod and the basegame mesh better with one another, though I'll have to see when I can find the time and energy to iron out the exact details and make it all work. I also really should give another go at balancing the mod, I never actually tested A Call to Arms with it and it might be that I went too heavy on the infected in there. Infected beings also aren't supposed to show up as cultists at historic sites, I really need to figure out why that seems to keep happening to Templar specifically. In addition, there's part of me that worries that the enemies of the mod are too weak and that killing them is too easy, I've been thinking about buffing them but I have no clue how much I should crank up their stats. Still, Disjecta Membra is my own personal favourite out of all the mods I've made and I'm really happy to see that other people are enjoying playing it as much as I enjoyed making it. Peace and health in the light of the Star.

Favourite caves of qud mods? I wanna dive in and fully mod my game

I don't have the energy to turn these into hyperlinks so you have to do the work of typing these names into the workshop and finding them, I apologize that I am not apologizing.

Hearthpyre and the Clever Girl Fork are obvious necessities. Starapple Valley and Regrowing Plants and Qud Fishing is on that list too for being able to make your own imprint on the world. With how the uh, story's themes go, I am even more feeling validated in my decision to spend most of the game building bases and farming and stuff.

Dynamic Background Color because I don't even remember what the game looks like without it anymore. I think I use the More Dots mod too.

Allography lets you add descriptions to things, including yourself, which is great.

1 Percent Loot Drops adds a ton of neat, very balanced items.

Cleaning Robots lets you have robots that clean fluids and I honestly just wish one in on EVERY settlement so they don't become giant messes after one visit. Indispensable mod.

Choose Your Fighter is good if you aren't a lunatic like me who just makes your own phenotypes and sprites and pets and dialogue for every character you play.

Jademouth is what I would argue to be the best, most diegetically natural town mod in the game. It adds very little to the world outside of itself, and adds a very much needed mid-game town with a fun quest and good characters. None of the writing feels out of place, it doesn't add encounters all over the map, it keeps to its own lane and does an great job of it.

Cryptogeology is an incredibly good quest which helps guide you to each town in the game naturally, has a ton of flavor, and a really decent reward. It feels like a natural part of the game.

Tealeaves adds a much-needed merchant to the Six Day Stilt who is also very well written and lets you get a chance at Newly Sentient Beings rep.

Issachari Evolved adds much needed variety to that faction.

Nightmare Treats gives you a lot more ways to reroll mutations, AND ways to gain mental stats. Eat them. It's safe. Nothing bad will happen.

Wired Child is a fun mid-late stage quest in Ezra that gets you a VERY nice weapon if you can manage it.

Return of the Arcwyrk. You need more enemies in your life. zzzap.

Knife Fights at Eddy's is mandatory, I'm sorry I don't make the rules.

A Specter is Haunting Qud adds some VERY nasty enemies and you deserve to be killed by them. Things should be scarier. Get scared. Basically Templar Hologram Wraith Knights but they're Eater ghosts. Fucked up! I won't tell you how to beat them figure it out yourself.

Village Finder because I hate the "go to each parasang and press + and then -" when looking for villages. Am I that dumb my character can't notice villages when walking through them.

Folk Scrap and Mundanity. Mandatory. Very flavorful.

Baboons of Babel adds much needed variety to baboon faction.

Judicators of Qud add a fun neat challenging robot who is kind of like if a leering stalker and a feral lah had a baby that wasn't the sum of its parts but something all its own.

Disjecta Membra's lore feels a little out of sync with 1.0, and it makes the game a giant mess. So basically, enemies can be infected, and when they die things get Interesting. It can cause huge problems and it's a fucking mess. It can make Call to Arms an unworkable disaster and Templar historical sites become unmanageable. I love it. I cannot play without it. It makes the game so much more challenging and stressful, especially in the early/midgame. The writing is fucking incredible even if its flavor doesn't line up exactly right anymore. Do not do this on your first playthrough but after your first playthrough install this and suffer with me forever. This might be my favorite new-content mod tbh.

Your Own Personal Relics is a neat adjustment to the Item Naming system which honestly I just wish-name things when I mod them to max anyway but it's neat.

Feline's Furnishings are good tiles.

Fluid Storage is great and the Klein Bottles are fantastic and putting 500 drams in their weightless moebius will never go wrong for you ever.

I think that should do you with the unimax's share of the mods I use!

Sidenote, Eule does a lot of mods that are Very Cool but also last time I used them they had a problem of all of them would spawn things in the jungle, so with all of them active every jungle screen would have like, their populations taken over by all the Argent Somethingorother and the Unseen Adversaries and the Arboreta Guys. None of them work with 1.0 anyway I don't think, and the mods ARE very high quality! But their spawn rates were extremely overpowering to the point where the jungle was basically just entirely made of those 3 factions and it was a Bit Much.

I'm also about to try out the Labyrinthine Trail and Xeototin Mechanical Somethingorother for the first time but I haven't done them yet so i have no comment.

Also Facial Equipment Diversity is neat too.

#Caves of Qud

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catboywizard · 7 months ago

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exactly one week from now and i’ll (probably) be fully jewish!

#i’m sure it’ll be fine but i’m TERRIFIED #for those who don’t know #i have this thing called a beit din #which is like a conversation with myself my sponsoring rabbi and 2 rabbis i don’t know #and then they determine if they think i’m ready #i know it’s not supposed to be like a test #but it feels like a test #and i am very anxious about it 😅#also it doesn’t help that i’ll have to get up super early in the morning for it #op #jewish stuff

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just-null · 1 year ago

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YO, SUPER LATE SUPER LONG SUPER MESSY OCTOBER POST THAT I JUST SHOVED EVERYTHING INTO BC I DIDN'T WANT TO DO MULTIPLE. FUCK IT.

I forgot halfway that these were supposed to be costumes and not mini aus... SO REMEMBER IN MY PLACE, EVERYTHING IS HYPOTHETICAL. also. some have a bit of yandere elements to them bc its SO FITTING FOR NORITOSHI.

Happy late October, everyone. it's winter now. Let's get it, baby.

[Long rambles and doodles under the cut!]

Vampire!

I kept asking myself, "How sexy is too sexy.." and "How the fuck does a sexy vampire even look like without it being a shirtless guy w fangs or Edward Cullen....." I think I figured it out

Sure, sure, vampires are superhumans with sun allergies that can drink blood really hotly. They can also easily overpower you to feast and blah blah blah, but what if said vampire (Noritoshi) was too weak to do any of that? Not literally, but he craves your say. He wants not only your blood but your affection. He wants to get praised as he drinks you in. Are you comfortable? How much will you allow him to take? Do you want to get him back in return? Guidance with this makes him feel more at ease. It's still Noritoshi at the end of the day. He's going to find a way to be a little awkward about you because of his crush. He refuses to drink from anyone other than you, even if it causes his death. Therefore, he has to keep you healthy! For the rest of your lives..! Besides, he can't really go outside or else he'd.. y'know. So if you think about it, this is a very beneficial relationship for both of you!!

The only downside is that you're losing blood on the regular, and for some reason, more people are moving away... Probably nothing, right? Noritoshi is always there to keep you company and help you recover anyways.

Witch!

my attempts also bled into the witch design.... you got greedy with requesting two in one ask, but I'll spoil you this time bc I also wanted to see Noritoshi as a (sexy) vampire and witch. heh. AND I DIDNT REALIZE HED BE SO CUTE AS A WITCH..... WHAT THE FUCK?? rip momo, fight for your title of cute witch...

Noritoshi strikes me as one of those witches who'd rather be left to their own devices because they're running some important magic whatever in the background. though, he'll take some breaks and indulge you if you insist on having him around. Insist meaning you pass by and strike conversation, leaving him to neglect anything and everything to prioritize his time with you. He doesn't want to use magic on you unless it's beneficial for either you or both. Noritoshi likes a natural progression with you that he knows for a fact is true and not some product of some spell. Though it doesn't mean he wouldn't use charms and such to get you to interact with him more often to speed up the process!

Can't sleep? He has a remedy perfect for that! Bad luck? Oh no, take a charm. Nerves? A potion he perfected will help you ease your jitters. Annoying peers? With a snap of Noritoshi's fingers, they're gone! Just don't ask what happened. Enjoy yourself instead and come to him with any new issue. He's quick to resolve it.

Definitely has some sort of doll that looks suspiciously like you.. Noritoshi would probably talk to it and practice one liners that give you the strongest sense of nostalgia once he uses them. He's simultaneously giddy that the charm he put in the doll works but also a little annoyed that his hard work isn't surprising you, but leaving you with deja vu.

Idol!

i was crying the entire time bc what does an idol look like.... noritoshi is handsome enough to be an idol without actually being an idol... now i can confirm that idols are very well dressed though. thumbs up 100% but i had some thoughts...

[Idol]

Noritoshi would be the type to cherish his fans, but hold clear favoritism over you. he'd be those idols that look cold, but they talk, and they sound smug in a charming way. i don't know much about idols, but i know he'd be so fucking good.... he'd be the type of guy to sing to you amongst the hundreds in the crowd.... ahhh the interviews w these famous aus. they're just talking and acting like themselves. can you imagine Noritoshi getting asked the question if he has a lover or not? he can lie, im sure you're alright with that, but he doesn't want to!! he does have someone!!! someone he loves more than all his fans love for him combined!!! he just can't say it for the sake of your privacy and his career. so Noritoshi does what any charming guy who's good with their words does. he deflects the question. answering the question, but not really, that'd be something he's known for. fans online are split on why Noritoshi does this. some think he's trying to keep that side of his life private, others think he's trying to mess around, and others think he's hiding a secret lover!!! though the last one is usually seen as the outlandish one, sometimes it makes Noritoshi's heart drop bc they get some things right. "Having a lover is a complicated question hidden behind a simple disguise. If I had to answer, I'd say my lovers are my audience. they make sure i'm well cared for, some more than others." AND HIS FUCKING LITTLE SMIRK I CANT COUGHS UP BLOOD. IM A THEORIST TOO. SECRET LOVER. 🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵

ON THE FLIP SIDE....

[Not an Idol]

An amusing thought where Noritoshi goes out in his casual clothes, and he's mistaken for an idol. No one knows who he is, but he just looks like he'd be one. bro's just trying to buy groceries, and now he has a fan group asking him to take pictures with them.. He'd tell them that he's just a guy, not an idol, but the group would still want a picture with him. it'd be a waste to pass by someone who's so naturally gorgeous, so with a sigh of defeat, he relents. It's just a photo, right? No harm done. Noritoshi'd go home and feel overwhelmed/embarrassed by the whole ordeal. later, he gets a call from someone in the kyoto group or you to inform him how he's all over social media, known as that handsome guy in the supermarket. HED BE COMPLETELY UNREACHABLE TO MEDIA OUTLETS BC NORITOSHI IS THAT GUY WHO DOESNT HAVE SOCIAL MEDIA.... he'd have to make one to make sure no one pretends to be him online. "Hello, I don't use social media, but I've been informed I've been getting attention online. To prevent anyone from being fooled by an impersonator, this is my official and only account. thank you." P.R. STATEMENT WRITING ASS.. his single post gets flooded with likes, comments, and DMs. it almost blows up his phone..... he was just buying bread, dude...... people try to dig up and find him through the other Kyoto group's social media.

[bonus] my second in command requested to put him in a fem idol outfit bc he thought it was funny. after frothing at the mouth and coughing out blood, I complied.

Doctor!

THIS IS SUCH A STRAIGHT FORWARD ASK BUT IT HAS SO MANY IMPLICATIONS. MY BELOVED CULT MEMBER.. THOSE EMOJIS GIVE ME A DIFFERENT IMPRESSION BUT IM NOT SURE.

Noritoshi as a doctor...... apple sales would plummet. his little clinic's business would skyrocket. sick cases would peak in his area. getting your heart checked by his stethoscope would be so fucking embarrassing bc all he'd hear is THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP

LIKE IMAGINE IF THAT WAS YOUR DOCTOR? BRO.

COUGH COUGH HACK WHEEZE COUGH COUGH.

Noritoshi would probably own a small clinic that he wants to expand. That or he opened one after working for a hospital for a while. He's a great doctor who's most likely respected but a pain in the ass to work with. Among patients, he's gotten the hot doctor reputation. Most want to be treated by him, but he's so professional, any chance of trying to flirt goes down the drain. Yeah, he puts his hair up to avoid it in his face even though his eyes are closed classic lab safety procedures. He seems like the type to have a soothing but authoritative voice during examination, so he gets his message across. it's a bit difficult when dealing with patients for Noritoshi. If he sees them too often, he firstly scolds you for not taking care of yourself, then feels guilty for not giving you the proper care. Keep yourself safe and healthy, or else Noritoshi will clearly :( Putting him in a yandere setting would be dangerous. He'd have a lot of control over you, considering he can prescribe medication, shots, visits, and other things.... he'd have a ball.... nothing that would cause you any harm, of course. he's only looking out for you and doing what's best for you..!

Pirate!

my second in command wanted a pirate. pirates are so fucking cool and i know damn well if this guy were a pirate he'd have a bunch of battle scars under that fancy coat.

Noritoshi as a pirate would be more than a little odd, but also fitting. He looks like the type of guy who'd be well put together, yet he's willing to get his hands dirty. Like the guy who got into the pirate life because of some personal issue that couldn't be solved fast enough through conventional means. Even as a pirate, i imagine he holds everyone to high standards. They're still pirates though.. so his expected standards aren't even that high. He has more freedom here, so even he himself lets loose once or twice. Especially with you. He's even able to get away with more violent actions for you, the seas are unpredictable, after all. While taking some treasure, Noritoshi'd toss you a gem or golden coin, just so you can say you were the first to claim it. Just so he can see that happy glint in your eyes when getting your hands on treasure. God forbid anyone try to get their hands on your hard earned goods. They'd be met with a bullet to the foot or a sword at their neck. Everyone and their mother knows how you're his favorite, but Noritoshi downplays it. Its not a crime to help out someone from his crew is it? Not in the seven seas. He leans more into his cold ruthless killer side here. He has goals and people to help keep in line whether hes captain or not. Yet when around you, he's almost adorable in how he shows you a pearl so entrancing that it reminded him of you.

Corpse Bride!

my submission to my Noritoshi Halloween costume closet.. CORPSE BRIDE, THIS MOVIE FUCKS. esp w the yandere elements.

Noritoshi 100% made you recite the wedding vows to him before accepting the ring. If you fumbled up, he'd correct you with SO much attitude and expect you to start from the top until you got it perfectly.

Hypothetically, in the chalice scene towards the end..

Noritoshi is the type to never be fully relaxed unless he knows for sure you'll be eternally his. In this scenario, YOU proposed to HIM but have to die to continue being together. Not only that, but someone in the living world is also after your heart. Someone who bleeds. Someone who's the obvious choice. Someone who can give you the life that you deserve. Someone who will succeed in their pursuits if you. remain. alive. Noritoshi's life was cut short, yet he still managed to lose so much and be abandoned a considerable amount of times. When he meets you and finds out about the possibility of having to go through that again even in death, it finally clicks in his rotting mind. He realizes he's been doing something wrong to keep constantly failing. Noritoshi revises his methods to a more.. selfish course. Why should he care about anyone else's wants or how his actions hurt them? You were the only one who made him truly fulfilled, to make him feel alive. The only one who deserves anything and everything good that comes from this world. Destiny is never done toying with him when he realizes your marriage is invalid because of your pulse and his lack thereof no matter how hard he'd try, but the opportunity arises. of course, he's ecstatic to give you an afterlife worth much more than what a silly beating heart can achieve. "All people die eventually. If you miss your living family or friends, all it takes is patience, darling. I'll wait by your side in the meantime." He weighs the pros and cons of everything, but when it comes to swaying manipulating your thoughts he only highlights the ones that'll get you on his side. in this case, the pros of dying to be with him! Honestly, the answer was so obvious that Noritoshi didn't know why he was stressing about it before. It hurts him to see you in any type of pain, but he reassures both himself and you that it'll only be for a moment. Afterward, he'll have the rest of your afterlives to make it up to you!! What happened to Till Death Do Us Part? Noritoshi thinks it's insulting that something as shallow as that could be so widely accepted. If your love were true, it wouldn't stop just because the world decided to take them away. "Till death do us part? Darling, don't be silly. 'Not even death will do us part' feels much better, doesn't it?"

#noritoshi #kamo noritoshi #noritoshi kamo #noritoshi x reader #kamo noritoshi x reader #noritoshi kamo x reader #yandere noritoshi #yandere kamo noritoshi #yandere noritoshi kamo #merry october #???#ragingbisegzual #charamander459 #I FUCKING LIVED THROGUH THIS GOD I FELT SO BAD I TOOK SO LONG ESP SINCE ITS ALREADY HALFWAY INTO NOVEMBER BUT HERE WE GO. BABY IS HERE #i thought i was so smart making this look like a fashion show. anyway hi im still alive just busy #vampire and witch nori were makin my brain fry bc all the outfits for guys were their shirt off. it was both funny and testing my creativit #as for idol.. heh. <- in love with forbidden love and secret relationships and 'we shouldnt be doing this' 'i know' *does it anyway*#I WAS TEARING MY HAIR OUT AT DOCTOR. LIKE I LIKE THE CONCEPT BUT WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO.. PUT HIM IN SCRUBS???#im not upset im just so entertained by how straight forward you were yet there are still so many implications in this ask #LIKE YOU WROTE FOUR WORDS AND TWO EMOJIS AND THATS ALL IT TOOK FOR ME TO DO A DOUBLE TAKE #now that i think abt it. i shouldve put him in a hot nurse outfit... //punches myself in the face #THATS WHY ANY FAMOUS/ROYAL/REPUTATION AU IS MY SHIT BC THEY HAVE TO HIDE THEIR RELATIONSHIP/EACHOTHER AGH FROTHS AT THE MOUTH #i love how the pirate noritoshi is a cool guy until he sees you and turns into a simp #CORPSE BRIDE WAS SO SELF INDULGENT. THAT MOVIE FUCKS SO HARD. THE USE OF 'DARLING' WAS BC EMILY USED IT IN THE MOVIE #IT HAD SO MANY YAN VIBES BUT FUCK. WHY DID YOU HAVE TO BE SUCH A GREEN FLAG EMILY. I LOVE YOU #heh. the lace and mask are supposed to represent the bones and such. didnt mean to give him a phantom of the opera look.. though it fits...#null rot

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