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twipsai · 2 months ago

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omega and silver fic is up! ill put the full thing under the cut yayyy

Days and weeks and months melted together, years going by as his body rusted and decayed, warping itself beyond repair as fewer and fewer people dared to enter the Flame Core, fewer caring to check in on them.

He wasn’t conscious for a large portion of it. How could he be? Why would he be? Any reason to stay present was gone.

So he sat. He waited. For what, he wasn’t sure.

…

And then.

And then one day.

One day, something new. The feeling of something stirring against his chest awoke him from a multi-decade slumber. It took minutes, maybe hours, for all of his systems to come back online. The ones remaining, anyway. Everything hit him like bullets— two lifeforms detected, tactile input detected, loss of ammunition, left shoulder joint disconnected, motor functions offline…

Everything buzzed faintly.

Finally, he could see again.

He shifted his cameras down to see…

“CHILD.”

The kid’s eyes flew open as he stumbled backwards from being curled up against his side. A scream erupted from the child’s body. Analysis showed he was a hedgehog, about six, not matching anyone stored within his database.

Though, there weren’t many people around who did, anymore.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” Omega questioned, voice echoing unpleasantly against the cavern’s walls.

The child didn’t answer, his breathing picking up speed as his hands started to tremble. He fell to his knees, eyes wide and unblinkingly staring at Omega.

“I BELIEVE I MAY HAVE FRIGHTENED YOU. THIS WAS NOT MY INTENTION.”

It looked like the child couldn’t breathe, now, as if he was being strangled by an invisible force. He grasped a hand around his neck while tears rolled down his cheeks.

Somewhere in his data storage, something like a memory surfaced. It was an unfamiliar feeling.

At some point, someone he knew had something like this happen to them.

“INITIATING ‘COMFORT’ PROTOCOL.”

Through old, crackling speakers, a song started to play. Even with the terrible audio crunching, the piano still rang out as soft as ever. Slow notes drawled on. The lifeform behind him shifted. The child took about 3.49 seconds to visually indicate he had heard the music. His ears perked up and his terrified eyes softened. Over the course of six minutes and twenty-three seconds, the child’s heart rate decreased from 110 beats per minute to 100.

The first thing that tiny child squeaked out was, “Can you move?”

Omega responded after a moment to check. “NO.”

The child then slowly stood, inching forward on trembling legs to sit closer to the music. He leaned an ear to Omega’s chest where the sound crackled out from. He was way too warm for a tiny child, and if he wasn’t showing no other symptoms, Omega would have thought he was sick.

As the song steadily reached its conclusion, the child seemed about as relaxed as he was going to get.

“What is this?” he asked.

“GYMNOPEDIE NO. 1.”

The child looked up and squinted his eyes, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“IT’S A VERY OLD SONG FROM AN ESTIMATED 400 YEARS AGO.”

“A song? What’s a song?”

Omega was never very good at explaining the more… human aspects of life. The alive parts.

Others would be better suited to explain this.

He knew many that could’ve.

“A SONG IS TYPICALLY A COLLECTION OF NOTES PLAYED IN SUCCESSION TO CREATE A MELODY. WHY WERE YOU SLEEPING ON ME, CHILD?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I DO NOT CARE. YOU HAVE NOT ANSWERED MY QUESTION.”

The child’s grey quills flared out even more than they already had, and he fidgeted with the bandages around his wrists. “Your body is cold. It’s very warm here. I was just trying to cool off…”

“WHAT IS YOUR NAME?”

“I think it’s Silver.”

“YOU ARE NOT SURE?”

“No.”

“WHY ARE YOU HERE?”

“I’m trying to get to Crisis City.”

That was an unfamiliar location. Omega checked his residual memory, and cross referenced it with previous data he had archived. “THE RUINS OF SOLEANNA.”

“Um. Maybe?”

“THE HEART OF IBLIS. INQUIRY: WHY IS A TINY MEATBAG LIKE YOU MARCHING TO YOUR CERTAIN DEATH?”

Silver sat down in the place where his left arm should have been, under exposed wires sparking threateningly. This close, Omega could see the scabs on his knees, the blood soaking through the messily-wrapped bandages, the cuts littering his arms and legs, his calloused hands and feet— he could see the determination in his eyes as he folded his hands in his lap and furrowed his brows. “I'm going to defeat Iblis.”

If Omega could laugh, he would. “DOES NOT COMPUTE. SILVER THE HEDGEHOG: SMALL, MORTAL, POWERLESS. IBLIS: GIANT, IMMORTAL, POWERFUL. I ASK AGAIN; WHY IS A TINY MEATBAG LIKE YOU MARCHING TO YOUR DEATH?”

“Because I have to! I have powers no one else has, if there's something I can do, then I wanna help!”

“FURTHER DATA NEEDED. WHAT POWERS DO YOU POSSESS, CHILD?”

“Um, someone told me its called psy– psycho— um—”

“PSYCHOKINESIS.”

“Yes! Psychokinesis!”

There was no telling how powerful the child actually was. Omega knew better than to underestimate children at this point, when three had accompanied him on adventure after adventure before the flames had consumed the world.

They were children. Most of his companions were.

His chest suddenly felt strange. Felt. He tried to run a diagnosis on his power core, only to find that it was still destroyed. Nothing had changed about his state. What made that feeling?

“Excuse me, uh… sir?”

“OMEGA.”

“Huh?”

“THAT IS MY NAME. E-123 OMEGA.”

“Oh. Well, your eyes are glowing.”

Strange. Someone once said that he was very expressive— he thought it was what she called “sarcasm”, but then went on to explain all the little things she noticed about him, and how he reacts to things. It seemed that, even with almost all of his functions offline, he was still finding ways to express himself.

“Omega?”

“WHAT.”

Silver looked up at him shyly. “Can I lean on you again? It’s very hot in here, and you’re very cool…”

“I LACK THE PROPER MOTOR FUNCTION TO STOP YOU.”

“That’s why I asked.”

A memory surfaced. Covered in rust and cobwebs and ash.

A very long time ago, he was carrying someone gently, as gently as he could. This person was tired— he had been through a lot that week. He could barely stand. So he carried him to his room quietly, trying his best not to tear the blankets he used to tuck him in. He must not have done a very good job at being quiet, because he woke up to a degree.

“Omega,” he mumbled, eyes still half-closed. “Don’t… don’t let anyone do anything to you. Even though you’re… you’re a robot… you should get to be your own person…”

He quietly took a step back.

“YOUR MUMBLING IS INCOHERENT,” Omega replied. “TELL ME TOMORROW; I WILL STILL BE HERE.”

And he turned.

And left.

Silver, for one reason or another, was dragging up memories that he thought had been trapped in old storage. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t had a conversation with another person in over a hundred years. Maybe the long stretches of silence had a way of turning one into a poet.

“YES,” Omega finally replied, “YOU MAY LEAN ON ME.”

Silver crawled over his lap, smushing himself in between Omega’s in-tact arm and torso, forehead leaning against his upper arm. If Omega thought the child would listen, he would warn him about getting tetanus from his rusted fingers.

“I have a question now. Is that okay?”

“YES.”

“How old are you?”

“73,784.8 DAYS HAVE PASSED SINCE MY CREATION.”

“Uhhh… that’s a lot…”

Eggman didn’t program conversion to weeks, months, and years into his internal clock. Eventually it would stop counting up when it hit 999,999.999 days. It also meant that he had to mentally convert it himself. “APPROXIMATELY 200 YEARS.”

“Oh.”

…

The child looked up at him with impossibly large eyes.

“Oh! Were you around before Iblis was, Omega?!”

“YES—”

“Can you tell me about it?! Please! I’ve heard stories but— but not from someone who was there! You gotta tell me!”

Much to his dismay, Omega was finding this child amusing. And familiar. “WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO KNOW?”

“Um, um…” When he was in thought, Silver fidgeted with his poncho’s hem. “Tell me about the sky!”

“...THE SKY?”

“Yes!”

Omega hadn’t been outside for most of his lifespan— he had spent it in the Flame Core. But he did remember that— “IT WAS GIANT.”

A massive expanse that blanketed the entire earth. A constant in a chaotic life. No matter where you went, the sky followed.

“IT WOULD CHANGE COLOR. MANY COMPARED IT TO A PAINTING.”

The child looked up at him with wonder in his eyes, absorbing every syllable.

“IT WAS THE ONE THING IN LIFE THAT REMAINED.”

Absolute awe was written on Silver’s face.

Omega could make a well-informed guess of what awaited him outside the cavern if he was ever fixed.

“Can you tell me about the people?”

“YOU ASK MANY QUESTIONS.”

“I haven’t gotten this many answers before.”

They were his companions. Teammates. Friends, though, that was pushing it a little, as one of them would say. After so long to think about it, to put his feelings into words, he came to the conclusion that he must have cared about them. They were almost all gone, now. Almost. But he could remember watching them from afar, completely captivated by how they moved. It was all just play to most of them. They would train against each other, race across continents, get takeout in the middle of a mission… Everything was just another day. They laughed in the face of danger. They stood tall. They cared.

Oh, how they cared.

“I BELIEVE THEY WERE NOT VERY DIFFERENT FROM THE PEOPLE OF THIS TIME.”

“No?”

“NO. THEY WERE ALL JUST PEOPLE. MUNDANE.”

Silver knitted his brows together in thought, then pointed past where Omega’s cameras could reach, behind the two of them. “Was he there?”

But he knew.

He knew.

Knew who he was pointing to.

“YES.”

“What’s his name?”

“SHADOW.”

“Why is he trapped in there?”

While Omega couldn’t see him in his position, he knew exactly how Shadow looked. Arms up and cuffed with giant metal rings, attached to a hexagonal cage that stretched over him in a diamond shape, glowing pink and white. The image was committed to his long-term memory.

Perhaps it was better he couldn’t turn to see.

“HUMANITY THOUGHT HE WAS THE CAUSE OF THE FLAMES OF DISASTER.”

Silver stood and walked behind him. The tingle of apprehensiveness of having his back turned to a sentient being was duller than he remembered. “Was he?”

“NO,” he could say for certain. “NO, HE WASN’T.”

“Then why did they do this to him?”

He could remember his claw gripping Shadow’s neck as he begged and pleaded for mercy. He remembered his body acting without his command as he unfeelingly attacked him. He remembered Shadow going limp on the floor, almost dead. He remembered watching as people crowded around him and quickly put him into stasis.

He remembered standing with him,

for centuries.

Maybe as an apology. Maybe because it was what he was built to do.

He remembered.

“HUMANITY FEARS WHAT THEY DON'T UNDERSTAND, CHILD.”

Quietly, Silver walked back to Omega’s side, leaning on him once again, and a little more curled up in his lap than he was before. “I know,” he said. “I know that.”

Of course he did. Omega could have guessed that, especially in this world; this world that was dominated by terror. After all, Silver was here, alone, at six years old. Whatever reason he had for that couldn't be a pleasant one.

“YOU REMIND ME OF THE PEOPLE I FOUGHT ALONGSIDE BACK THEN.”

“Before Iblis?”

“YES.”

“I do?”

“YOU ARE MARCHING TO FACE IMPOSSIBLE ODDS. YET YOU REMAIN OPTIMISTIC. YOU STRIVE TO PROTECT A BROKEN WORLD THAT HURT YOU.”

Silver fidgeted with the hem of his poncho. His markings pulsed with light. “Even if the whole world was against me,” he whispered, “I'd still protect it.”

“I SEE. INQUIRY;”

“Mhm?”

“HOW CAN YOU FIGHT WHEN YOU KNOW YOU CAN'T WIN?”

For a long time, Silver stayed quiet.

He spoke slowly. “As long as I don't give up… there's hope.”

How optimistic. How cruel, for a child to say those words with a trembling voice. If Omega could, he'd weep.

Then, he returned to his excited demeanor. “Hey, you know what? I could probably get Shadow out of there!”

“YOU COULD NOT.”

“I could try! If I could wake your friend up, then maybe—”

“CHILD.”

He stayed quiet.

“I MADE A VOW TO PROTECT THOSE I HELD DEAR.” He flickered some of the lights on his body on and off. “I BROKE THAT VOW ONCE. NOW, I WILL REMAIN HERE, BY HIS SIDE, UNTIL I AM GONE.”

Silver was practically curled up in his lap, forehead rested on his chest. His body temperature had dropped significantly since he had woken up. “Okay, then. Hey, I have another question.”

“ASK IT.”

“Can you make that ‘song’ again?”

How optimistic.

How cruel.

“YES. I CAN.”

The piano hummed through his broken speakers. It made ear-splitting popping noises occasionally, but Silver didn't seem to mind. He shifted so his ear was right above Omega’s internal speaker.

His companions would have liked Silver. It was obvious— maybe even Shadow would have. But they were separated by eons.

Omega only hoped the next time they met, it was for a kinder reason.

‘Hoped’...

Silver must have been rubbing off on him.

#sth #sonic fic #e-123 omega #silver the hedgehog

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valentinedaughtler · 1 year ago

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Tainted Opal (Part 2)

Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

Part 1

2 - Hand-stitched Crimson Roses

T/Ws: violence, romantic feelings, blood, mild spice scenes sometimes, fem!reader and she/her pronouns, sexual abuse/trauma (not explicit)

Synopsis: You meet up with Kaz for a meeting on the down-low at the Crow Club, but your vulnerability slips.

REQUESTS: OPEN✅

____________________________________________

As I reached the alleyway from earlier that night, my eyes fell upon a figure. They seemed to materialize from nothing.

"Hello," I greeted her with a small smile, my eyes sultry and enticing. I made note of her features, making it easier to notice her in the future. Her eyes were dark, with flecks of deep brown, like shards of tinted glass. A deep blue cloth wrapped around her head and face, but her sleek, black hair poured down her back. Her caramel skin glinted in the moonlight, but the light reflected more off of her numerous knives that were pocketed in her clothes.

"I assumed Brekker would not come himself, smart move," I added while the woman stared at me. "I have the money, darling." With a few swipes of my hands my dress's many layers warped into a large purse, strapped to my belted waist.

"You're a tailor," the woman whispered, her gaze as piercing as her knives. I handed her the embroidered purse. Mouse skeletons and crimson roses were stitched onto the fabric.

As I began to alter my dress once more, the girl vanished. I looked up in surprise, but it was quickly replaced by appreciation. I always admire a woman of her craft. My eyes dropped to the dirty stone path under me, a paper lay where the girl had stood. My joints cracked as I kneeled down to grab the note.

The Crow Club; 2 a.m. sharp

"Well, these meeting sure are getting tiresome," I mumble, making my way back to my estate. I knew I'd need to pack, assuming my deal is accepted.

I make it to the front steps of my home where large, ornate doors greet me. I've made a name for myself, it's hard to believe that three years ago I was-

"Well, a little lady is here....all alone, missy?" My thoughts are cut off by the slurred speech of a middle-aged man. He stumbles over to me, reeking of alcohol and grease. I narrow my eyes, frustrated. Saints damn it all. My eyes become inviting, my smile sweetening the deal, I look so innocent. I look my age now.

"Oh? Well I guess I am all alone," I add in an extra laugh to really tie the act together. I saunter a bit closer to the drunken man, picking up my dress to reveal my ankles. Though I really just don't want this skirt to get wet from rain-soaked pathways. Men like this will believe anything if you play the part. I get to keep some morality, even if I live in a place like Ketterdam, so I play the age old card, "Though, sir, I am only seventeen, so I should get going-"

"Little missy, that's even better, I like my women young... and unused," his grin shows his disgusting teeth, while his hands reach out to grab my wrist. I've given up trying to reason with men like this. Attempting to give them a second chance. I unsheathe my floral umbrella from my dress, as it's a gown full of surprises, and use the sharp prod to stab the man in the upper arm. My soft expression is still plastered on my face as I smack his upside the head with it.

"You bitch," he wails as blood blots his shirt sleeve. He stumbles away quickly, cursing out my existence whist doing so.

I unlocked my front door and opened with with both hands. Antique decor was scattered in an organized manner throughout the house; books spilled out of shelves, and house plants coiled around anything the could grab ahold of.

Time to get packing.

✵ ♣ ✵

The Crow Club was loud, the stretch of liquor wafted through the air, and jukebox music mixed in with the booming voices coming from all sides.

I noticed a pair of eyes on me, belonging to a young man with dark skin and buzzed hair. Two pistols were pocketed on either side of his waist and a smirk played on his lips when I looked at him. Another man to stab with an umbrella... at least he seems to be my age. I was pretty exhausted and not in the mood for this.

He made his way towards me, and his smile grew larger when he was in speaking distance from me.

"You must be Miss l/n," his voice is springy, a sense of humor bubbling in it. My left eyebrow cocks as he says this, though I guess everyone in Ketterdam knows everyone in Ketterdam. The voices carry.

"Guilty as charged," I joke with a smirk, maintaining composure. "And you are...?"

"Jesper Fahey, one million kruge was counted, so Kaz has decided to agree to your deal," he explains. "If you follow me, I will bring you to his office." Jesper turns and begins to walk towards a hall in the back of the bar.

I follow behind him but grip the weapons stashed in the layers of my dress. We walk up a stairwell towards a wooden door. Jesper knocks and enters without waiting for a response.

The room before us is a dimly lit office, a large, open window blows in cool, night air. There is a bookcase and a shelf of rum in the right corner, behind them is peeled wallpaper, which reveals knotted wood paneling. My gaze glazes past the bags of cash haphazardly spread across the floor to Kaz, at his makeshift desk. It seems to be a door sat atop wooden crates.

The scar-faced boy looks up from his papers, he gestures for me to come sit in the chair across from his desk, while Jesper leans against the entrance door.

"Have you accepted my deal, or was Jesper just getting my hopes up?" I ask with soft curiosity in my voice. He leans against his desk, clasping his gloved hands.

"You're known for your deception, Mrs. l/n, how can we trust you?" Kaz's voice makes me shiver, but I like the feeling it brings afterwards. I'm not sure how much information I should give up to him, but my desperation clouds my better judgement.

"That's all I have left," I blurt out. I nod at the purse overflowing with kruge on the desk, "that's the rest of my money in my bank account, and my secret stash. My well-being is on the line for this deal." I wonder if I look slightly manic; if I resemble the panic I feel. Kaz eyes me, most likely analyzing my face with a blank expression. He turns to the open window, where the girl from before separates herself from the shadows. "Inej, go to Ketterdam's bank and see if her story checks out," He instructs. As soon as the girl—Inej, -was there, she was gone again, a part of the night.

After a while of silence in the dreary office, Inej returned. She gracefully hopped down from the windowsill and whispered to Kaz. He shifted his gaze to me, nodding.

"You said you have a boat?" He asked, my eyes fixated on his scarred lips as he articulated his question.

"Yes, I just need a crew," as I said such he looked confused.

"Are you implying you will be accompanying us on the heist?"

"I will. Do you have a crew?"

Kaz thought for a moment. He nodded.

"We have a skilled spy of sorts, a gunslinger, an explosions... expert, a heartrender and a former Fjerdian Drüskelle." He lists the crew members, not breaking eye contact.

"And a tailor," I hear Inej add. I nod at her comment and smile.

"We leave tomorrow morning at Sunrise," with that Kaz gets up, gesturing for Inej and Jesper to leave.

As they slip out of the room from various entry points, kaz makes his way over to a map tacked to the wall, his cane tapping against the floorboards. I follow him and watch as he draws two black dots, one over Ketterdam, the other on the Little Palace of Ravka. He turned to me, parting his lips to speak,

"Ever charted a map before?"

______________

Word Count: 1385

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Prepare yourself for the hell of a heist,

-Valentine

#inej ghafa #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker #matthias helvar #nina zenik #opalring #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #seductress #shadow and bone #soc #six of crows #fanfic #fem reader #fem!reader #pirates

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generallybrontidefeelings · 4 years ago

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Stressed

Rating: NC-17

A/N: Brought to you by this post. I'm tired and sleepy and don't want to make any decisions. The degree is an actual MS you can get from American University in DC. U of Tennessee’s anthropology dept. hosts what’s called a body farm. It's a lab for forensic pathology students. Do NOT I repeat DO NOT look up pictures.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader, Marcus Pike x you

Summary: Marcus Pike is an associate faculty member at your forensics college. You ask him to be your second reader for your thesis, even though you have a huge crush on him. Nothing is better than something, right? By the time you pass your exam, you're so pent up you could scream.

Warnings: cadaver talk, pining, age difference, some power dynamics?, annoying college talk, sex, dirty talk, a God awful metaphor curtesy of Blanche Devereaux, 39

“Take a deep breath.”

You huff in a small shallow breath. Then let it out, and take in a longer, fuller one.

“Now let it out.” You let your cheeks puff up as cool air streams past your lips. “You’ve made huge improvements, and you’ve studied hard. The paper exam will be easy, and the oral will be a cinch.”

You gulp. “I know. It’s just...pre-show jitters, you know?”

He gives you a full smile, and flips the document shut. You hand him the binder clip, accidentally brushing his fingers when you do.

"Anything else I can do for you?"

You swallow, fiddling with your paper edge. God you feel like a twelve year old. You're fucking twenty-seven and about to apply for the FBI, why are you such a sap? He’s not available. Not even remotely. He will be gone in a year, back to the Bureau. There is no reason to nurse a crush. And you curse yourself for asking a man you’re attracted to - you, idiot, idiot! - to spend more time with you. Even if it is reading your dull chapter.

"No, I have everything I need, thanks."

"Then scoot. I have to read like...thirty pages of Tanner's chapter before he gets here."

You pull your bag to your shoulder. "you're not going to get that far," you scoff. The tensing in your shoulders relaxes a little when you stand to leave.

"We'll see," he says. He opens the door of his office for you. You glance back once more, and he's still in the doorway watching you go. "See you tomorrow."

"See you." Your mind swirls back and forth between thoughts of Mr. Pike, your thesis, Pike, your oral defence, your paper exam in two days, Marcus crossing his ankles in his reading chair. And you walk. Straight ahead, not looking back. But when you get to the door handle you turn around. And he's still there. Watching.

You've never been so stressed in your life.

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

You met Marcus Pike on a muggy afternoon in August deep in the heart of Tennessee. The air warped off the pavement as you drove together to the School of Anthropology to visit your cadaver lying relaxed and prostrate in the middle of a fenced field. The air is already warm, then lightning flashes in the clouds to your right, and plopping rain drops scatter across the lawn, and dampens A-0017’s second hand suit. His raisinette hands lie against the grass almost like he’s communing with the earth. You watched the water hit his face, and permanently closed eyelids, and shaved head.

You had no business being so fidgety while kneeling next to a cadaver. Agent Marcus Pike and the facility director chat a couple feet away, leaving you to your business with A-0017. Pike had never been to the school’s mysterious forensics lab, even though he had plenty of time to when he was earning his own masters. That’s what he said in his email to you three weeks earlier. He’d heard a first-year student was running a fibrous material experiment and asked to tag along. And you said yes. Why not? He was faculty. It wasn’t unheard of. His email was so polite too, letting you know if you weren’t comfortable he understood. Pike. The name rattled a memory somewhere. So you emailed him back, and the next morning he sent you his itinerary: he would meet you in Tennessee. He’d even pay for the rental car.

You sent your advisor a quick text to ask if he was ‘crazy.’ She’d sent back the laughing emoji. No, she said, Marcus Pike isn’t a crazy. You’ll like him.

You did like him. He was waiting for you at the Hertz desk, and heat licked up your skin when you realized - he was striking. He was the type of man you’d make eyes at in a bar without any hope of even getting a number. His brown hair was neatly trimmed, and he had a softness brought on by a light scruff that didn’t hide his dimples. You barely registered that he was apologizing for not getting to introduce himself before flying out, but promised he was who he said he was. Even pulled out his credentials.

“Bureau?” you said to his badge. “I thought you were an associate professor?” You want to smack yourself.

Oh, “I am,” he replied. He dug in his wallet and pulled out a campus ID that matched yours. “I’m taking an interim year. I thought teaching would be a nice way to ease into DC life.”

Now he was here, sweating under the storm clouds while watching you unbutton A-0017’s shirt, and half listening to the director tell him all about how they kept the lawn looking green despite, ahem, fluids. You sternly told A-0017 to be on their best behavior while you pulled their shirt back to examine some fiber swatches stapled to his rubbery chest.

On the flight back Pike asked you all about your thesis plans. You stuttered as you began. He waited, patient. You were writing on how the FBI could contribute to cultural repatriation efforts internationally by returning art pieces. Do you know what it could do to boost scholarly opportunities? The doors it could open! Why put it in cold storage when it could revitalize movements? Art breathes, after all. You were exhausted by the time the plane landed. Both from answering questions, and from keeping a steadily building tension under wraps. You hoped he didn’t notice how you crossed your legs.

“I’d love to read it.” He handed your backpack down from the overhead bin.

“Maybe you should be my second reader.” You got serious when his face perked up. “I still need one.”

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

That was nine months ago.

Your exams are in a week, and instead of thinking about preparing, all you can think of is that once everything is turned in, you probably won’t see Marcus again. He’s been your anchor these last months, and you’ve gotten used to his solid presence and encouraging platitudes. You cup your hot cheeks because it’s a dirty thought.

He lets you work in his office for a couple hours a week every week. The crammed little space is tight quarters, but he makes room for your laptop anyway. Sometimes you worked together heads bent for full time. Sometimes he read pages from your thesis, and you help him grade some papers from his first-year art history course. And sometimes you drink three pm coffee together and don’t work at all. It’s your favorite time of the week. The glow his praise gives you is embarrassing. And he’s an easy companion - nope, colleague. Your heart beats and your mouth waters every time you’re fifteen feet from his office door. The cold door knob jolts you took. You harbor a secret. Keep it warm in your belly. It swirls hungrily deep in you.

But now it’s a problem. You’re so distracted. Every time you leave his office, you’re tense from want. Your body is already over-caffeinated and achy from sitting in hard library chairs so long. But you keep going. Every time an anxious heat lights up the alarms in your head your instinct is to ask him what to do. You have to rest your hands in your head and remind yourself: he isn’t your babysitter, he’s a grown man who doesn’t have boundless time to tell you what to do. You have to figure it out yourself. Even if you really just want him to tell you what this or that section needs, is the title here misleading, is it lunch time, do you think the tone here is condescending?

What do you think? What do you want it to look like?

You think you want to grab his dumb button down collars and bite his lip. You want it to look flushed and tousled and desperate. You want to ride him in his reading chair with the door locked. It just isn’t fair.

The night before your first exam you take z-quil, drink lavender tea, and read a chapter of your favorite book to relax. Your phone buzzes at nine. It’s Marcus: good luck! You’re going to do great! Well. Better take some more Z-quill now that your heart is palpitating.

You pass both tests in excellent standing - MS in International Relations: complete. Pike attends the oral exam. Your skin goes hot when he smiles at you when the committee declares you exceed expectations. He invites you for a celebratory drink in the next couple days, which means you have two days to sternly wrangle your crush back into the dirty corner she came from.

You fail miserably.

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

“Look,” he says, setting his beer down on the glass bar counter. “I know it’s not my business, but you still look stressed out. Are your grades bothering you?”

The rim of your gin and tonic is wet with condensation from where your finger circles it. “No, they’re great.”

He bumps your shoulder with his. “Then what’s the damage? You’re jumpier than a…” he trails off thinking a good metaphor. He squints at you a little.

“A virgin at a prison rodeo?” you supply. He inhales sharply, eyes wide. “You can laugh.”

“I didn’t know you watched ‘The Golden Girls,” he says. His tone is admiring. “I was going to say jumpier than a graduate student giving their defense.” You purse your lips when he raises his eyebrows at you. “Can I help at all?”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob when he takes another sip of his beer. The soft orange lights in the bar spill around his jaw and throat, they flicker in his irises. His face in three quarter profile is august. You’re utterly exhausted from the polite ‘student mentor’ dance you’ve had to do for months while keeping your desire at bay. And more than that, you didn’t want to answer. You wanted to show him and let him decide. The sultry washboard and piano music give you that last boost.

You make sure he’s watching you, then you slowly reach out and wrap your fingers around his wrist.

Then you wait.

Marcus pauses from lifting his beer bottle, eyes glued to your hand on his wrist. It’s petite against him. He stares at your baby blue fingernails pairing beautifully with his Stirling watch - and he feels himself harden.

All the skin on your body stands at attention when he meets your eyes. Everything in them tells you he wants you just as bad. There’s a hesitant curve above his eyebrow though. You get it. You were his student - he’s such a sweet man he wouldn’t even dream of using a power dynamic like that to get laid. Your breath comes in short heaves.

“The semester ended thirty-six minutes ago,” you say over the music. He takes a deep breath. You aren’t his student anymore. Not according to the school, anyway.

You want him to decide. If he doesn’t, you’ll go home and fall apart under your fingertips thinking about how hot it would have been to lift your dress and sit on his cock while wearing your thigh highs.

“Do you want to leave?” You nod, resisting the urge to bite your lip.

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

Marcus’s apartment is homey. Streetlights flood the floor of the living room through the street facing windows. You turn this way and that to inspect the dark areas that look like bookshelves while he hangs up your coat. You squeeze your hands at your sides, because this is happening. You’re in his house. The hardwood floor is cold under your stocking feet.

You jump when he puts his hands on your shoulders from behind you, holding you a mere inch from his body. You bite your lip when his nose bumps into the back of your head.

“Are you sure about this?”

“You already asked me that,” you reply, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. You want so badly to tell him to tell you what to do. That you don’t want to make any decisions. Brain is worn out. That you want to please him, and not think. Oh, to be a freshmen simply sponging up information.

“I know,” he slides his hands to your biceps and turns you around. “I can check in again, can’t I? He cups your face when you nod. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please,” you have to stop yourself from saying something incriminating, like mister Pike, or sir, or professor.

You clutch the front of his button down to anchor yourself when his lips brush yours. His mouth is soft. It coaxes you to open so he can dive into you, his tongue swipes your bottom lip, and you respond by pressing into him. You stay pliant under him, letting him lead. Your legs feel on the verge of collapse when you break away. You can’t stand it anymore.

“I want to suck your cock.”

Both of you freeze. For a second you wonder if you’ve given him a heart attack. But you watched his thighs on the car ride back and couldn’t stop thinking about kneeling between them. Your mouth waters. Marcus can’t breathe. He’s straining against his zipper. After your declaration he wants it too.

“Okay, honey,” he breathes. He brushes your ear with his thumb. “If that’s what you want, we’ll do that.”

He tries to draw you backward toward his room where he can turn on a lamp and properly pay tribute to your body, but you pull him back. You tug him to his mid-century armchair - he has the twin to it in his office. His mouth goes dry. You have to know. He looks into your face, and from the way you’ve averted your eyes, you know.

“Please?” you say. It sounds like a sob.

From this close you can smell the vanilla and bergamot of his soap. He sits, waiting for you. When you don’t move he holds his hand out for you to take.

“Come here, honey,” he draws you close. The top of your dress swings a little and he groans when he sees the break of your dress to what he thought were tights. Marcus studies your face in the second hand street light - your mouth parted, your eyes blown wide. Your hand in his is hot. “Hey, if this is overwhelming, or not what you want-”

“It is,” you correct him.

“Tell me what’s wrong then,” he requests. You feel pained. If you don’t say it now you never will.

“Tell me what to do.” Your head aches from the stress of carrying it for so long. “I’ve had to make my own decisions for months, and I don’t want to anymore. Just - for five minutes-” you bring your hands to your cheeks and press them against your hot skin. You watch as he realizes what you want. He nods in slow motion.

“Okay,” he says. “Kneel for me.” He gets even harder when you sink to your knees. Your hands rest in your lap. Waiting. He can’t believe this is happening. Thank goodness he’s going back to the Bureau in three months. He couldn’t face the other faculty - fuck, your advisor - after this. Leaning forward he cups your chin and kisses you. You squeeze your thighs together. He kisses your ear and says lowly, “take my cock out, honey. I want you to suck me off.”

When you take him in your mouth as far as you can, you look into his face. His mouth has fallen open. His ears have turned red from flushing. It’s indescribable. It makes your mouth water further around his hard length. It’s heavy on your tongue. You move up and down his shaft leisurely, trying to savor it. Letting saliva run down onto his skin as your tongue works the spongy head. You reach up to work the base with your hand when he tells you ‘no’.

“Just your mouth.” Fuck. You moan around him as a ripple pulls from deep in your core. The vibrations of you moaning make him jolt and heave. For a few moments he apologies while you breathe deeply, then resume. You take a mouthful of him. It’s feasting. It’s mindless.

His fingers brush the side of your face, and tenderly cups the back of your head. You want to make him understand this is what you want. So you slide down as far as you can comfortably, and wait. Swallowing thickly around his length

“Fuck, honey,” he groans. He gets it, taking both hands and moving your head the pace he wants. You can tell he hasn’t been asked for this often. Maybe ever. You close your eyes and just feel. His cock filling your mouth. Aches forming around your jaw. Tears leaking out of your eyes from your concentration. Your pussy wetting through your underwear. Marcus pulling your hair. You swallow hard, then he stops. And pushes you off.

You whine in protest.

“I hear you, honey,” he says softly. His voice is hoarse. “Another time. I want you to unwind right now.” Your pussy clenches.

He takes you back to his bedroom and helps you undress. He lifts your dress over your head, and kneels to help you out of your thigh highs. One day, if you’ll let him, he’ll fuck you with them on, but he likes to see all of a woman the first time he does anything to her. He kisses the bit of skin above the waistband of your panties before standing to kiss your lips. Your help him push them down your hips until they fall to your ankles. The soft gasp he lets out at the sight of your underwear and bare body is nothing short of gluttonous.

“Lay down.”

He strips while you watch. He does it without taking his eyes off of you. There’s hunger in them. This man has an appetite, you know it. The fabric rustles pleasantly between the sound of both of you breathing. Far away, ambulance sirens blare in another neighborhood, but here in his apartment the wet sound of cars passing in the rainy street are the closest accompaniment.

“I want to touch you here,” he tells you, palming your sex and making you squeak. It’s so forward.

“Do it,” you breathe, and part your legs further for him. He leans in and kisses your temple, murmuring ‘good girl’ and you swear you could black out.

You’re already so wet when his fingers part your folds to greet the new territory. “Did sucking my cock get you wet?” He sounds amazed. He tastes one fingertip before putting it back to tease your folds. “I wonder how wet you would be just holding it in your mouth while you read.”

“Oh-” a ripple works down your spine. He smirks. The tip of his finger brushes just inside your lips to tease your entrance.

“I’m going to put my fingers in you. You,” he pauses to kiss your cheek, “relax. You earned it.” He rubs his nose up and down yours, and you nudge him back just as he slips one long finger into you. You’re glad he’s being sweet like this. It’s the perfect blend of firmness and care. You want him to dominate you one someday, maybe, but right here and now, the combination of his low voice and steady fingers is ideal. Marcus kisses your cheek and mouth as he works his finger in and out of you. It’s thick and reaches further than you ever could. You spread your legs even further to tell him, more.

Without removing his hand he moves down your body to lick your clit. He sucks and flicks it as he coaxes more wetness out of your leaking cunt. Carefully he pulls the finger out and presses his wet hand to the inside of your thigh to keep you open. He laps into you, covering the muscles with lubricant because you’re going to need it. You see his face just as he decides you’re ready; it’s contemplative, like he’s concentrating. Then he slides two fingers deep into you.

“Oh, fuck, that’s so fucking good,” your voice crescendos. You reach for his shoulder as he comes up to lie beside you. His skin is warm under your palm. You buck your hips looking for something else, seeking, wanting-

“Stay still.” You still immediately. “Just feel it, baby. I want you to be ready for me.” You know what he means. His cock is thick and smearing against your hip. He was big in your mouth, he’s going to be big while pushing into you. His fingers keep moving while he kisses the tips of your nipples. When he takes one between his teeth and tugs you break. Your mouth opens, and your legs clamp reflexively around his wrist. Your pussy gushes around his fingers - you can feel it. You can feel how his movements change from a drag as a slide. He keeps pumping. He doesn’t give up until he’s sure you’ve felt every aftershock. He’d love to take his time and work a third in one day - if he can - but tonight, he wants to move on. After you swallowed his cock in his sitting room chair he’s been thinking of rewarding you.

You feel him slip his fingers out, and roll away to the nightstand. He looks back at you, and his eyes soften a little before he asks, “do you want me to use a condom?”

“No,” you say and reach for his bicep to pull him back toward you. He comes willingly. “I have an IUD. And I’m clean.” He smiles, flinging the packet over his shoulder. It makes you giggle, but it sounds hysterical to your ears. You watch him reach down and pump his cock with the hand that was just inside you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

“Look at me,” he orders. Your eyes snap open. Marcus crashes his lips on yours. The hand not dripping from your cunt cups the back of your head. “I want to see your eyes while I fuck you.”

His blunt head breaks into you, you lose all thought. He sinks further in, until you’re squirming on his length because he’s stretching you. You suck air in and will your body will stay still like he suggested for his fingers. You look into Marcus’s eyes the whole time, trying to tell him how good he feels. You can’t make the words leave your throat. He pulls your head to him, kisses your mouth until you compose yourself and lie still. Then he gets to work. The breadth of him stills you anew. For the first time in months you fully relax, hardly making a sound as he thrusts steadily. You stare into Marcus’s eyes while your mouth falls open as he slides into you, and listen to the wet sounds of your pussy and the bed frame creaking.

Then he starts talking.

“Do you know how good you look in those blue trousers? I want to grab your ass every time you wear them,” he rumbles. His pace picks up a hair, and he feels harder in you somehow. He drops to his forearm. “I love watching it when you walk out of my office.” You knew it. “And that damn cardigan you never wear a shirt under? Those buttons slip right open, don’t they?” He punctuates it with a deep thrust that makes you squeak. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Wear it over for dinner. I’ll bite your tits through it.”

He fucks into you harder, sending shivers up your spine with every thrust. It moves you up the bed until you have to reach a hand up and press back against the headboard. You clutch him with the other, looping around his shoulder to feel the muscles in his arms pull and tug as he moves in you, working you up to another release Soon enough, the coil in your belly tightens and he reaches to worry your clit with deft fingers. His eyes never leave you. You think this man could make the hardest fuck feel like making love.

“I need more,” you tell him. You’re too embarrassed to ask for what you want. A tear leaks out of your eye because his thickness is so good, but you want something else too. You always underestimate him. He grins because he knows - he’s a detective. He figured it out. He leans down to rest his forehead on your temple.

“You’re doing so well,” he says. You arch up into him, your breasts brush his chest. “Your wet pussy is so sweet. It’s taking me so well. Are you gonna be respectful? Gonna listen?” You have to hold your breath as your hips tense. “Be good and come on my cock.” Oh fuck. “Say it.”

Your voice is wet with joy. “Yes, sir.”

“Such a good girl.”

Sparks lick up your back and through your cunt, forcing Marcus deeper into when you lift your lips. He slows to let you enjoy all your release. He kisses your neck, your jaw, your lips. Then when he hears your content sigh, he buries his face in your neck and chases his own release. He comes with an accompanying rumble from deep in his chest. You moan in return and lift your lips to catch him as he slumps, barely holding his weight off of you.

Water runs in the washroom as you tug the sheets back. The light clicks off, and Marcus appears with a washcloth. His dimple appears when you lean back and let him clean your tender flesh. He sits on the edge of the bed next to your hips, running his knuckles on the soft side of your breast.

“Stay the night,” says. “I’ll cook you breakfast.”

“Hm,” you say, mock contemplative. You run your fingers down his chest. He preens under the affection. “I will. I feel really good.” Your cheeks tingle at the admission. He smiles wide and bright.

He comes back from putting the cloth in the hamper. You roll so he can run his hands the length of your side

“Thank you,” you murmur. He lifts his face from where he’s been peppering your waist with kisses. His brow is furrowed in amused confusion. “For being good to me. For caring about what happened to me.” You’ll tell him the horror stories your friends have from their college another time.

He sighs and cups your cheek. “I like doing it. You’re bright. Supporting you is a privilege. Especially when I know that brain is going to put us all to shame one day.” You could cry.

“I’ve liked you since the body farm,” you admit. He wrinkles his nose. “I know. Not very romantic.”

“I liked you since you thought my campus ID was more official than my FBI badge.”

“I didn’t think that!”

“Get some sleep,” he says. A wicked glint comes to his eye. “I am going to wear you out before lunch.” You wiggle to get comfortable in the sheets and he curls over your back to hold you to his chest.

Orange light peeks through the gap in his blackout drapes. You eye him over your shoulder then settle into the pillow. All the tension in your shoulders is gone.

part 2

#marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #reader insert #fanfiction #writing #the mentalist fanfiction #I took some liberties with UT's school of anthros forensics lab #it does exist #DO NOT LOOK UP PICTURES #IF YOU ARE SQUEAMISH #DON'T DO IT #I AM NOT SQUEAMISH AND DO RESEARCH WITH CADAVERS #BUT IF YOU ARE SQUEAMISH #DONT #DO #IT

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red-doll-face · 4 years ago

Note

domestic oni w/ his s/o and some bebes please ;/// u know

Of course!!! I have seen the light on oni and I have realized he’s the big boi we needed. This ones for u bun ! I’ve never written for oni before so I just went off sorry 😞

Warnings: slight nsfw, slight breeding kink on onis part and reader is afab or at least has obtained baby making bits also children , mentions of blood and gore as well as nasty baby shit 🤢

WC: 1380

Kazan ‘The Oni’ Yamaoka x afab Reader

A Star in the Night

Life always balances itself out. For every bad day there was a good one. Considering his last day on Earth wasn’t necessarily what one could call good, there had to be some good here in the sprawling fog to naturally even things out, right? So, he searches for another chance. This must be Kazan’s second chance because if it were not, he would be well and truly dead. Floating in the abyss, gone forever. Here, however, he’s even met a descendent and her story makes him feel as if he’s done some good. Passed on his vengeful anger that pushed her to stand up for herself and so he decides that here will be his own slice of peace despite the souls he sends to the sky everyday.

As much as he wishes he could have left that part of his past behind. The killing and the beating. Brutality. It has become a part of him. It’s what makes him useful to the new god that rules here so he does it. If he hopes to one day achieve something here he has to please it. The new god has even taken to labelling him the Oni. The oni. A term he once despised. To torment him more, his skin is now tinged blue and his nails have sharpened and grown out black. He sure looks like one now. Blends into him like colors or ink into water. Makes the endless loop of killing a little easier.

Whatever he’s been working towards, he thinks he finally found it. In these repeated processes Kazan see’s someone unique. One of a kind among all the different screaming visages of the survivors. That’s the moment when he makes a more important decision. The choice to take you as a prize. Something of his own.

Bargaining with the Entity quickly places itself as his new priority. What would he have to do to take you away? To start again with you? The entity asks him to sacrifice 100 survivors. No moris, no escapes. Kazan is determined to get this. He is not in this place for no reason. This is his destiny. He almost lost the streak a few times. Against the hardy survivors. Against you too. But it’s not for nothing because the moment he succeeds, the entity allows him to take you. Upon seeing him, you are apprehensive. Why you? What for? All he will say is that you don’t have to be hunted anymore. Not by anyone. You can live a comfortable life, as comfortable as it can be. You’re shocked. Unsure of why this offer is being extended to you. But what would it be like to be in the fog but never have to go to a trial. You ask if you can come back at some point. If you’re free to leave when you want. Kazan doubts you’ll want to leave. He nods anyway.

And so you sit in his house. A house that used to be only Spirits. The temple however isn’t suitable and thus you live in the house. Settling in is rough. You’re not sure what to do. Then Kazan brings some old traditions. Meditating, raking stones in the garden into little lines. Lighting candles and lanterns at the shrine. It’s fairly easy to put you back into a lulling routine. One that doesn't involve blood and hooks. You start to realize that the Oni or Yamaoka Kazan, he had told you, is interested in more than just feeling bad and sheltering you from the Entity’s wrath. He acts as if you are his spouse. He comes from trials and comes to find you. Greets you. Merely wants to spend time with you. He tells you stories from a time of what must have been Japan when their were jitos, shoguns, and, samurai. He was a samurai. You’re uncertain on why you can communicate with him. Shouldn’t he be speaking a different language.

From a cupboard, he pulls little black sticks and stones used for grinding them into powder. Then into ink. Calligraphy brushes. Old brittle paper. He watches you draw little pictures and he keeps all of them, praising your creativity. How he has chosen someone as talented as you.

“Chosen? For what?” You question. Innocent enough of a question.

“To stand beside me.” That clears up nothing. You feel as if something has gone over your head.

His grand daughter, Rin treats you with kindness. She treats you as if you’re part of her family. With a familiarity you’d forgotten was real. It clicks then what Kazan is trying to do. You are to be a warped version of whatever marriage customs were held in his day. A spouse. He’s taken you as a spouse.

Once you confront him about it, he acts as if you should have always known. That it was obvious what his intentions were and that he didn't feel the need to be explicit. You retaliate with the acknowledgement that you’re not from his time. It’s your first real argument. What did he expect from you.

You don’t know when you start to actually like him. He’s not the best conversationalist unless he’s talking about fighting or battlefield strategy but he tries to entertain you. Listens intently to what you have to say. Ultimately, Kazan comes off as more genuine than your own fellow survivors. Some of them were nice. Niceness can only go so long here though. You’ll run out at some point. He brings up the last time you talked about why you were in this derelict house and he apologizes. Kazan apologizes so formally that he practically looks like he’s begging forgiveness. For not thinking of you as an individual and instead as a vessel. Finally, putting two and two together, you think he wants children. You stare quietly at him. A pause lingers and then you ask him if you wanted to bear his children, he wouldn’t respect you any less, would he? He tells you that he would crush the souls of 1000 more men should it mean you would bear his line. He would lay their bodies at your feet if it made you happy. Dramatic but fitting for someone like him.

Kazan tries for it as soon as he can. It should be impossible. The entity cannot create life, only steal it. But you allow him to try. Over and over again. Until it takes. Whenever he finishes, he takes to stuffing his seed back inside of you. Careful of his talon-like nails that seem to be made for ripping flesh apart.

After trying so many times, you feel something change. The entity buzzes about you, you can feel it. No one can see it, certainly not you but it’s excited. When Kazan returns from his stand-in profession, he’s visibly happy. Thrilled.

“You are with child.” He almost yells it, he’s so happy. He picks you up and hikes you into his arms.

It’s the birthing that makes you nervous. You're less daunted by the carrying. Kazan dotes on you, more than he had already. Treats you like a glass figurine, passed down generations. You cannot be broken or stressed. You feel like a figurine, alright. The man simply sits you down and admires you. As you swell, he looks at your belly fondly and then to your face. He pets your hair and soothes you.

The birth is painful. So, so, so painful. More than any mori, hook, or cage. Your body rips itself apart for his child. Your child. The baby is covered in blood and birthing fluid and Kazan is smitten. He’s silent, in awe of your creation. The baby is so small, so tiny in his hulking hands.

The child grows and grows. Laughs and gurgles. Kazan cares for it, a wonderful father. He cleans the blood and gore from himself before seeing your child and you watch on as he teaches them to write. Read ancient japanese. Rin is just as caught up with your baby. She’s like an older sister, the best kind. Normal childhood is unattainable but you lament at forcing the child in this world of night. Your child will never see the sun. But you figure that's because your baby is the sun.

Thanks for requesting and I hope you liked it! 💖💖

#dbd #dbd x reader #dead by daylight #oni x reader #kazan yamaoka #the oni dbd #red writes #kazan yamaoka x reader

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katsukikitten · 4 years ago

Text

Part one, no real warnings yet. Enjoy!

Bakugou's personal phone rings from the pocket of his hero costume for the umpteenth causing his skin to pop. All the while Kirishima allows his ruby gaze to fall over the hot head, having a good guess about just who is blowing up his phone. Worry snatches at Kirishima's heart for a moment forcing the question from his lips, even if it meant regretting it.

"Are you sure your mom is okay?" Bakugou freezes in his step, inclining his head to fix a garnet glare at his so called friend. He sucks in a breath to yell, body tense and in a fighting stance before his phone blares again.

"FUCK!" He shouts into the night with only Kirishima and the moon to hear. The trees swallow his frustration as he rips his phone from his pocket, answering it so harshly the LCD beneath the screen ruptures.

"What?! What the fuck do you want you God Damn hag?! I'm WORKING! Saving LIVES!" It had been a long time since he had called his mother hag, long enough there was silence on the other line for a moment.

Then much like her son she takes a deep breath and now Kirishima, the moon and the trees know why Mitsuki was calling at such a late hour. Kirishima sighs with relief nothing is so dire as life and death, although for Mitsuki it is.

"IF YOU DON'T BRING THIS GHOST OF A GIRLFRIEND OF YOURS I SWEAR TO KAMISAMI THERE WILL BE NO MORE NUMBER ONE HERO WHEN IM THROUGH WITH YOU. IM GETTING OLD I NEED FUCKING GRANDKIDS. THINK OF YOUR SWEET OLD FATHER HE AIN'T GETTING ANY FUCKING YOUNGER!"

"That's what this was about?! Ma for the last fucking time I don't-"

"You don't what? One of those hoes you sleep with has to like even your rude ass. Bring a decent one home." And with that Bakugou is left with the sound of three tones and a ringing in his ear. He grips the bridge of his nose, having no earthly idea of how to get his mother off of his back, let alone find a woman. The phone rings in his hand again, the screen filled with dead pixels and rainbow lines causing him hot to be able to see. Somehow it registers his touch as he goes from memory to answer.

"What you fucking hag?!" He screams into the receiver.

"Wow. Rude." You reply with a bite, "Just calling to tell you boss that I'm clocking out, dickhead."

"I-I thought you were my mom."

"Oh and that makes it better?" What an ass!

"Fuck you." He growls, looking at Kirishima's watch, "You're clocking out way too early."

"No, fuck you. I requested to be off by this time MONTHS ago. You can ask Eijirou-san, you approved it so he made the schedule accordingly." You quip, twirling one of your knives in your hands, "Besides I've been working waaay too long today. Oh and I found that perp hours ago."

"What the fuck?! Why didn't you tell me hours ago?"

"I fucking tried, you ignored my call. This was my third attempt." You slam the knife through the paperwork on your desk wishing it were the hot head's thigh. You rise as your eyes glance over the clock. If you didn't hurry this stupid phone call up, you were going to be late. You needed to sneak in before midnight.

"Still too early for you. Normally you want the OT." He bites, causing you to roll your eyes.

Gods you hated this guy.

"Yea, well tonight is different." You'd pay in the long run for leaving so soon but tonight was special. She asked you to be there the last time you saw her and you promised.

You never break a fucking promise.

"Some subordinate you are bitch face." He growls then an idea pops into his head.

Subordinate.

As in you reported to him, as in Bakugou Katsuki was your boss. And well you had to listen to your boss to some extent and he knew you needed money, you tell him day in and day out it's the only reason you would even dream to work with him.

Although he has no idea why you are so hard out for cash.

So he sets the bait, offering you a deal you can't refuse.

"Tomorrow is your planned day off right?"

"Yea what fucking of it?!"

"I've got a special mission for you-"

"No." You interrupt, already feeling the exhaustion of your seventy hour work week stacking up.

"You didn't even let me finish you ungrateful brat. It will be three times your pay for half a day's work. Cold hard cash." The other side of the line goes silent. Licking your lips you think over his offer, fuck, that would actually help get your head above water.

The light at the end of the tunnel.

If only you knew how dark this tunnel was going to be.

"Fine. I'll take your stupid fucking offer."

"Promise?" His voice sounds a bit different, a little bit of a tease to it, as if he knows something you don't.

"What are we in kindergarten. Yea I promise, fucking headass." With that you hang up, rushing down the steps of the agency building and into the cold air.

Your phone buzzes with a text

BakaBoss: Meet me at the agency, 11am sharp.

You roll your eyes, turning your phone to silent as you watch the nightly set of nurses do their normal routine. Barely making it in time for the security guard and head nurse to make their way outside by the one way back door for a smoke. Both too lazy to walk around to the front of the hospital, sticking a thin splintering wood block between the jam and the door, giving you easy access to the stairwell. When they were far enough away you slip into the door, sure to place the wood where they left it before climbing the stairs two at a time, racing the clock at the top half of the 11th hour. The janitor would have already mopped her floor and the only nurse on floor six was currently on the ground level half way through the small tobacco stick, she wouldn't be sticking her head into room 609 anytime soon.

You draw in a deep breath, collecting yourself and forcing back the tears as you picked the lock, a skill set that not only were you amazing at but the very same skill that landed you here.

And by here you mean stupid ass hero work all thanks to some "reforming" program by Izuku Miydoria. Still it was better than having to break out of jail in order to make cash, her bills weren't going to pay themself.

You stick a stolen credit card in between the door jab and the door, right at the locking mechanism, although you could break out of just about anywhere, this would be the faster method of escape.

"Hey, sis, I made it!" You say softly but with excitement, watching as she keeps her back to you. Her eyes wide from a mixed cocktail of chemicals and trauma, she stares out into the sky, counting the stars.

It would be one of those nights where she was too warped to tell you were there. With a sigh you sink onto her mattress. If you could even fucking call it that. It was more like a box spring with a fitted sheet over top of it, you were still figuring out how you could sneak a mattress in.

"I got you something." You say crawling to sit next to her cross legged, she turns to you and it's like looking in a mirror. Except one of you is covered in visible scars and the other is not. Hers are more than skin deep. Seeing her dull gaze never gets any easier, she stares through you for a long time before she does as she always does.

Lifting her hand gently to cup your cheek so her thumb can slide over your scar.

"How'd you get this?" Her voice is barely hers and it grabs a fist full of your guts pulling them downward. Everytime she asks that question you see the shine of a blade, a swipe of a strong hand and vision filled with blood.

Yours, there's but never hers. You like to tell yourself that's what counts but maybe you had a hand in breaking her.

You clear your throat, pulling a bag onto your lap.

"Nevermind that." You gently guide her hand away from your cheek and to her lap. When she makes no motion for the gift bag you force a smile as icy guilt collects in your chest.

"It's for our birthday silly! Can you believe we are 26 today?" You place the pillow on her lap and her hands slowly go to the plush material.

For a moment she has returned, flashing you a smile as she pushing into the soft material before she flickers out again. Like a light with just enough current to wink in and out of existence.

Time passes and the clock strikes midnight, white clad shoes stomp against the polished floor signaling it was time to leave.

"I'll try to see you soon okay?" You lean over kissing her hairline before grabbing at the old, flat pillow. Shoving it into the gift bag as you silently bound the room. Pushing the door open slightly as you slip the stolen card into the back pocket of your black jeans. With that you are down the hall and through the backdoor without raising any sort of alarm as usual.

Suddenly your phone weighs heavy in your pocket as you think of what kind of stupid errand that asshole was going to put you on. The stolen card sings in your pocket, begging to be used. So you slip into a bar to give it a good use.

&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*

A blaring alarm yanks you from the bed in a sweating panic. Knife instinctively slashing the air before you send the blade into yet another digital alarm clock. Falling back into the mattress for just a moment's peace.

That peace doesn't last long once you show up at the agency. If anything is sours as you see Bakugou leaning against the bright white brick and in civilian clothes no less.

"What's this?" You pick at his black dress shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showcasing his banded forearms. He's paired it with a pair of black jeans, one knee ripped. Oddly it looks good together. Not overly dressed nor too dressed down. His vermilion eyes glide over your figure in your black body con hero suit. He sucks his teeth, hating this next part.

"Called clothes dumbass. Speaking of we need to get you something fitting."

"For what? What exactly is this 'mission'?"

"I'll debrief you later. Right now we need to get you new clothes." You laugh in his face before your rich expression turns deadly

"With what money?"

"Calm down, it's my treat Princess." He says with satire, the name sits odd on his tongue and even more odd in your stomach. He snatches at your wrist, "Come on before the stores get crowded and we get noticed."

You find yourself in a shop filled with dresses and fancy blouses. All of which you hate. Bakugou seems to hate them too, too guady for his taste. Still he shifts through the soft silks because he knows his mother will love it.

"Oi, you can't find a single decent thing here? I thought women loved shopping."

"Yea for shit we like asshole." You hiss to him, having only found a pair of dark blue jean's.

"Heh." He scoffs, rolling his eyes until he finds the perfect top. It looks decent and it could be your style. The one thing he learned about being undercover was to not stray too far from what looked natural or from the truth.

"Put this on. While I find a necklace." He shoves the silky top into your hands and you look at the price tag. Suddenly anxiety burns in the soles of your feet soaring up to close your throat.

"Bakugou. This is too much." Katsuki stops to glance over his shoulder, this is the first time you've used his name since he hired you three years ago. He sees your hand gripping at your bicep and he watches the rare tell sign that you're nervous as you chew on one of the scars that creeps onto your lip. He comes up to you, closer than he ever has been before, your senses flood with spiced caramel.

"Oi." His voice is smooth, almost soft as he touches a ringed index finger to your forearm. You fixate on the shining black ring and your old habits have you thinking of six different ways to get it off of his finger. The thought soothes you as much as his voice surprisingly does.

"I said I'm buying, remember you brat?" The teasing returns back to his voice before it turns gruff, "Now go change to make sure I like it. I'll be back in a second."

A woman unlocks a small dressing room for you and once inside you hold your breath. Counting as you remind yourself that you cannot and will not steal anything of value while your boss was here.

If you were any other person you would tap this Prohero's account dry, really rack up that platinum card you know sat in his wallet and sell the clothes marked up for a profit later.

But even as much as you hated Bakugou, you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

Instead you slip into the the outfit adjusting yourself this way in that as the neckline says enough without saying too much. The jeans curving against your figure in such a way doing as good as a job as your hero suit. You keep your steel toed boots as you step into the small hall with the three mirrors. As you turn this way and that Bakugou appears behind you, almost earning a knife to his gut. He forces the silver blade away before pulling out a necklace from a bag he just bought. The gold chain is dainty, going through the top of the garnet making it seen as if it were a suspended droplet of blood.

It marches the eyes that roll over you as he takes a step back before his harsh mouth breathes out a word.

"Fuck."

Instantly it kills your mood as your lip pulls back over sharp teeth.

"Tsk. It's not that bad, God how do you get any pussy." You grumble, smoothing down the black blouse.

"No, dumbass. You look...you look perfect." He stares into your eyes through the mirror, his smile growing wider as they wander over your scars and finally land onto that minimalistic drop pendant necklace.

Over something you've never been able to have, something you always had to swipe from an unsuspecting neck and then pawn.

"Now. I'm going to tell you here, in this store of crowded people so you don't cause a scene."

"What?!" Anger already begins to bubble in your blood. The blades that kiss your flesh start to scream for relief.

"From now on you have to pretend to be my girlfriend. Paparazzi are starting to swarm outside of this fucking boutique and my mom follows this particular trash tabloid since they love to use me as click bait. You just have to make it through dinner tonight and if shit goes south I'll pay you even more."

#bnha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha au #katsuki x reader #bakugou x you

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my-writings-and-musings · 4 years ago

Note

Can I request the hostage prompt with whirl,cygate and megatron with a human so

Ohoho I've been waiting to do this one... Hope everyone enjoys some silliness mixed with sweetness!

Part One: You're Here!

Part Two: Here!

Whirl

·You've always had a kind of strength Whirl recognized and admired, it's one of the reasons he fell for you in the first place, but even you aren't sure what exactly gives you the fuel to snap with enough force that it freezes your captor at their active communication station. Maybe you're just tired of being chained up, but their arrogant demeanor is more than likely what pushed you over the edge, specifically with that last taunt at Whirl that used "Cyclops" as the punchline for the millionth time. Swears are beautifully melded into an avalanche of fury that starts with you demanding this lazy idiot think of a better insult for your partner than something involving his looks, because "You think YOU'RE hot shit?! There's corpses in here with more charisma than you!"

·Fear doesn't even register as you keep on tearing apart your captor in every way you can. Nothing is off limits with all the taunting Whirl has been forced to endure on the other end of the communication line, and thus you bring out every below the belt insult you can think of. The bad bot's jaw is slack as you continue, looking to their dazed face and declaring "Not to mention you're dumb enough to go after MY mech, you think a loser like you is gonna stand a chance against WHIRL?! Just last week he tossed a combiner off a bridge because he called me "fleshy", what do you think he's gonna do to YOU?!"

· The communicator is still running when your kidnapper leaves it to try and intimidate you into silence, a move that makes you laugh in exasperated dismissal. "Oh, now you're gonna THREATEN me, really? Did I not make myself clear? You've pissed off the deadliest mech in the universe, and he's got the entirety of the Lost Light helping him search, your next few hours would be a lot better spent deciding how you want what's gonna be left of you interred!" Though you're not even knee height compared to your captor, he actually seems to flinch at your words, especially with you raging so close to his gobsmacked face. The rush of finally shutting him up spurs you to continue your roasting with increasingly petty and crude comments on your partner's significantly superior looks.

·In a stroke of fantastic fortune or misfortune depending on your perspective, a tactical explosion tears into the underground base just as you start to elaborate on Whirl's many other impressive skills. Bots rain in to overwhelm your kidnapper and his automated defenses in a coordinated ambush, one quickly ruined when your absolutely giddy paramour rushes forth without a care to take out the captor in a flying jump kick with a howling battle cry. Rather than eviscerate his now vulnerable enemy, Whirl leaves the crumpled kidnapper where he lies, heedless to the battle still raging all around as his optic sparkles as he beholds you. Like a damsel being swept off their feet you're plucked from your chains and pulled into his careful claws.

·All but gushing with euphoria, he explains that your brilliant distraction tactic gave them the ability to trace your location, and that he heard every word of your spark warming defense on his behalf. You can hear the unhindered adoration in his voice, but you also get a chance to see it as he practically dances through the combat with you held in one arm. By the time your kidnapper is the only one left, he looks lovingly into your eyes and primes his gun with a tender whisper. "Want me to kill this glitch just for you, babe?" The other bots quickly interfere to insist on taking him in for a proper trial, something you're quite alright with as you explain all you really want is to get some rest. Whirl insists on carrying you all the way to bed, whispering sweet nothing's and more or less being the most affectionate anyone has ever seen him.

·Afterwards you're told what it was like on the other end of the communication line. He'd been inconsolable at your kidnapping, and it had taken multiple bots to prevent him from tearing apart the ship as the messages came in. But the moment you'd started shouting? He'd been initially frozen like the rest of them, but had eventually leaned in beside the communicator to listen, his optic getting mistier at every passing curse word yelled on his behalf. Some described his demeanor as that of a lovestruck teen listening to their crush sing a love ballad, though they emphasize his emotional reaction to hearing you was undoubtedly genuine, as it was probably the first time he'd ever been defended so passionately by anyone. The endless doting on you he engages in afterwards leaves you little doubt this is true.

Cygate

·Having two loving partners has always been a blessing, which is probably why you're so easily driven to a blind rage in the face of your captor's endless attempts to mock both of them through the brief communications he sends to the crew, which are also made more unbearable by his ever increasing list of demands for your return. At his latest taunting of their "freakish" romance, you hit your boiling point. The communicator is still running when you lay into the callous bot for having the audacity to insult anyone's choices when he's set himself up in a literal evil lair. "There's body parts just thrown around like confetti in here, and you LIVE like this?! Do you think you get to decide who's weird in this scenario?! At least those two were decent enough to have each other as roommates, you couldn't convince anything living to shack up with your creepy ass!"

·At the total silence you somehow find the fury to keep going, but harder and faster this time, your self restraint little more than a memory as you dangle from the chains keeping you still. "Is it a jealousy thing?! Are you just that peeved off you're single? That you had to steal me to cut them down from three to two? Bad news dumbass; they're STILL beating you on the dating front!" It's not helping your situation, but tearing in to the jerk who's dragged you into a cave and spent so long bullying your partners feels too good for you to stop, especially with the stupid look of indignation and confusion twisting his expression. Not to mention he gives you plenty to rip into even as he tries in vain to make you shut up.

·"You think you scare me?! Do you even know who I'm dating?! Do you think they'll let you get away with this stunt?! One of them can destroy your stupid face with one punch, the other is Cyclonus, and you've gone and pissed them both off!" While it may be a little underwhelming to threaten the guy with what others will do to him, you're hardly in a mood to complain when his expression briefly gives way to one of horrified realization. Yet that hardly calms you down in any significant way. Did he drag you to some nowhere planet and chain you to a wall without even bothering to consider the consequences?! Your back is killing you and the bots have been enduring his incoherent demands for hours, and perhaps you could forgive that if not for all his haughty taunting, which drives you to once again begin raging.

·"Did you even have a plan?! Do you actually have any idea what you're up against, or did you just think you'd swipe a human and earn an easy paycheck? Because if you had even an inkling of what my mechs are capable of, you'd be headed for the nearest space bridge and warping as FAR away from here as physics allow!" While it's a new level of ridiculous, even for your crazy life, the absurdities of the nonexistent plan simply make you see red. It's one thing to be kidnapped by someone who at least has goals, but to be chained up in a cave by some idiot who doesn't have any plans beyond profit and bragging? That'd be enough to tick you off in itself, but the additional insults he's levied at your partners bring your tirade into molten levels of anger that seem absolutely bottomless.

·You're practically red in the eyes when the whole place quakes, and by the time you realize your captor is booking it he's already made it to the door, though his escape ends there when it opens to reveal the bots you've been wanting to see more than anything. A single strike from Cyclonus sends the kidnapper clear across the room, and he's followed by a battle ready Tailgate roaring out his fury as the security systems come on. The chaos of automatic turrets does nothing to distract you from the little blue bot pummeling your captor, and it only makes the arrival of a familiar purple mech that much more heroic as he snaps your chains and pulls you into his arms. The battle is little more than a formality before the barely conscious villain is cuffed and prepared for transport to trial, something your two partners are only willing to allow under the threat of personally hunting him down if he tries to escape justice. Before even leaving the cave you're smushed in the middle of a passionate hug.

·Tailgate alternates between ecstatic buzzing and relieved weeping at your rescue, while Cyclonus never loses a soft smile but keeps finding opportunities to hold and touch you as if he needs to be reassured you're here. It's heartwarming, but according to the rest of the crew it all started at your unplanned radio takeover. No bot had been prepared to hear their favorite human erupt in such unbridled rage, but those two had been shocked in the most wonderful meaning of the word, their expressions reflecting awe like no other until the ship had actually arrived at your location. Cyclonus had actually gone slack jawed while Tailgate had threatened to faint in his arms, but joy had painted their reactions more and more as time had gone on. The tiny powerhouse and the colossal mech out of time were still effusive in their praise every time you three were together, neither having ever known someone could truly love the two of them so completely.

Megatron

·Knowing that Megatron has a sizable target on his back and a lot to be criticized for doesn't make enduring your captor any easier, which is probably why you end up reaching a boiling point after a few hours of listening to the bot who's tied you up try to claim some kind of moral high ground. A tiny human being protective of a titanic gladiator may be illogical, but you can't seem to care when you finally hit your limit, the chains keeping you in place rattling from your sheer force of rage. Because seriously, so long as we're criticizing people for immoral actions, can you cut in about the time some raging jerk tied you up just to taunt another bot and get some cash on the side? Your simple but glaring barb immediately gets the attention of the much larger alien as they stare at you in shock.

·At his bafflement you become entirely unhinged. "Really? What, do you need me to spell out the irony of all this?! You're calling MY MECH a monster, but I don't see him running many evil lairs at the moment, do you?! Kind of rich, you claiming the high ground while I'm literally CHAINED TO THE WALL and our only present company is CORPSES, don't you think?!" The various and still unexplained dead bodies dotting the cave remain as the only audience you know of while the communicator is abandoned, your captor leaving it behind so he can approach and try to growl out some kind of intimidation. It has no effect beyond making you more furious than ever before. Had the chains not been holding you down, you'd have certainly tried to swing at his stupid face while you snapped.

·"Are you trying to scare me? You, a two bit kidnapper who holed himself up in a cave, and I'm supposed to be impressed?! I'm DATING Megatron! One look at a bot that terrifies the galaxy and I decided I wanted a piece of him!" You're almost proud as you declare your undying love for your gigantic partner, something that has earned you a lot of grief from others but has made you happier than you've ever been in your entire life. While you ordinarily don't attempt to argue on his behalf, per his request, it's impossible not to just grill a jerk who thinks he has the high ground to criticize literally anyone. Plus your open and passionate fondness for the former warlord seems to be scaring your captor more than the mech himself ever could, something that brings a devilish twinkle to your eye as you continue to threateningly gush over the bot you adore, if only to pay this jerk back for all the gloating he made said mech endure.

·You're absolutely effusive as you passionately and quite aggressively go on about what a gentlemech you're dating, with ample divertions to the many ways his incredible strength and size are used for much more protective and noble purposes, like holding you close or crushing bad guys. It isn't long before you're spinning a terrifying yarn about the time you were caught in a firefight and he tore a hunk of the wall clean off to shield you from the danger before proceeding to beat the attacking forces with the corpse of their leader. The kidnapper is actually backing away slowly, which turns to backing away quickly as you begin to describe Megatron's romantic poetry skills and how some of his greatest talents lie not on the battlefield but in the bedroom, by which point he's preparing his security systems to cover his escape.

·Perfect timing, from your perspective, makes the sudden explosion of every door a beautiful and inspiring sight. In what has to be the most well coordinated ambush of all time, your friends of the Lost Light storm the cave and annihilate the resistance so fast you only have to blink before a very restrained Megatron is cuffing your petrified kidnapper and tossing him to Magnus so he can be taken into custody. When he turns to you he's actually smiling, and there's a lot behind the expression. Relief, gratitude, exhaustion, and a million other emotions swarm in his optics as the chains keeping you bound crumble like dust in his grip, and you're lifted in his cupped hands like a priceless treasure. Though he's mostly quiet for some time after, you can hear how absolutely smitten he is with you every time he speaks, and the lovestruck look of pure affection never seems to leave his face, which you see often as he appears terrified to lose you.

·A couple of other bots feel compelled to tell you; he was on the warpath when he found you missing, and many had been taking bets on how little would be left of your kidnapper once the former Decepticon got his hands on him. Yet, as soon as he'd overheard you, something about his whole demeanor had changed in an instant. He hadn't just softened, he'd been visibly moved by the passion of your defense and the fire of your love for him. The very idea that he could be defended had been unthinkable in his mind. Yet you'd faced a much larger foe without fear because you'd been so angry on his behalf, what could he possibly have done to deserve such a thing? His gratitude is apparent every moment the two of you spend together, from his rather out of character cuddling to his impressive increase in poems written to describe his adoration of you. Though it isn't at all necessary, you do enjoy having been able to let him know how deeply you cherish him.

#transformers #maccadam #mtmte #more than meets the eye #lost light #idw #tf #my writing #my asks #anon #requests #whirl x reader #cygate x reader #cyclonus x reader #tailgate x reader #megatron x reader #human reader #self insert

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alittlebitgoofy · 4 years ago

Text

if i had my way i would be yours - chapter six (taywhora)

here we are, the final chapter. it's time these girls get their feelings together, it's weird having finished this fic I devoted a lot of time, planning and energy to but all things come to an end, I've got another big taywhora fic in the works so enjoy!!

thanks to @goodemornting for betaing :)) ao3 link

A’whora felt a weight atop her as she awoke.

It was warm, an arm wrapped around her waist comfortably tight. Her tired brain tried to piece together the prior night as she melted under the warmth. Her brain felt like mush, the pleasure of being under another person keeping her too busy to think too hard about it.

But she hadn’t talked to any girls last night, she’d mostly spent time with Tayce. Sure, they’d gotten a bit drunk, but surely she would remember chatting someone up and getting them in her bed.

Wait. Getting drunk with tayce. Her roommate Tayce... Oh.

Shit. Oh god. Well, It wasn’t as if she didn’t want to—

But it was so soon. She was Tayce’s first experience with a woman. She’d offered to, gleeful at the opportunity while cautious about not wanting to take advantage of her. She didn’t take advantage of her, they were two consenting adult roommates who happened to hook up. It came back to her quickly, now. How Tayce had kissed her. The way Tayce had cuddled up to her after, a warm mix of giddy and tired. Maybe this wasn’t so bad? She’d only be able to tell when Tayce woke up. A’whora finally glanced at her phone to check the time. 9 A.M. The fatigue in her body reminded her she had only gotten to sleep around 3, letting Tayce’s soft breathing lull her back to sleep. She’d deal with all this after a little more rest. It wouldn’t hurt to enjoy it for just a bit longer. Tayce’s reaction was a lot less calm. She felt someone’s presence next to her as she stirred awake, failing to remember a thing before she opened her eyes to see A’whora with her arms wrapped around her waist. It was warm, almost suffocatingly so. The realisation that any movement would likely wake the blonde up dawned on her. Either Tayce would carefully wriggle out of her arms and risk waking her up or stew in the position and wait until A’whora woke up. Either way, they’d have to address this, and she didn’t know if she was ready to. Part of her was freaking out, how could they have gotten into this position? Would she regret it? This was her best friend, who she spent the better parts of all her days with. Tayce knew that if A’whora went cold on her again, she wouldn’t be able to cope for long.

But A’whora was next to her, asleep but still cuddled up with her. She would probably just make a dirty comment and shrug it off, right?. Though her mind screamed in what could happen the other half of her senses melted into the embrace of her companion. Her mind couldn’t help but stop racing while being engulfed in her companion’s embrace. A’whora had shown so much affection the previous night it was hard not to. “Tayce?” A’whora’s eyes cracked open blearily, tilting her head in tired confusion. A dopey smile grew on her face as she noticed the position they were in. She looked beyond silly like that, but it still made Tayce’s heart skip a beat. “Morning to you, too.”

Tayce shook her head at the laugh A’whora let out. She was clearly aware of everything that had happened, just plainly unaffected by it. Tayce envied the ease she took this with, her brain and heart conflicting with every action she made. “We fucked, huh?” “Yeah, we did,” Tayce spluttered at the forwardness, feeling her cheeks heat up. Of course A’whora would have no problem talking about the sex she’d had with her roommate the night prior. The blonde didn’t seem phased by her reaction, pulling her arms tighter around her body and bringing herself into Tayce’s side. “You’re warm.” Her words were followed by a content sigh, A’whora looking blissful as Tayce returned the affection, her arms looping around the smaller woman to pull her in tight as she could. “You’re such a softie.” Tayce tried to sound jokingly insulting, but any power to her words fizzled out as soon as she felt A’whora’s head on her chest. She melted into speaking loving words, holding the girl that caused her so much heartache like nothing had happened, as if it was second nature. They stayed locked together, the outside world not a concern in the embrace of one another. Though Tayce eventually shifted, her stomach roared with a ferocity that sent A’whora spiralling into a fit of hiccuping laughter. “Do you want beans on toast?” A’whora settled down enough to speak, a smirk still playing at her lips at the interruption of their moment.

“Depends how you make them.” “Like you taught me. The ketchup, the cheese, the salt and the pepper and the butter.” The blonde laughed; Tayce was so specific about how she made her beans on toast. There was a method to it, she’d taught it to A’whora the instant they moved in together and made her come to love the breakfast almost as much as she did. “You’ve learnt well.” Tayce patted her on the back like a proud parent, before sliding herself out of the bed to follow A’whora into their kitchen. She missed the warmth of it. But the idea of food was more than enough to coax her out. --- There was something heart-warmingly domestic about making your roommate breakfast, the meaning changed dramatically with whatever was going on between her and Tayce, but A’whora tried to keep her thoughts up.Tayce was still around, she hadn’t freaked out and ran so it could be worse.

Tayce was too busy entrapped in her thoughts to spare the blonde much more than a sideways glance. Her thoughts were buzzing even as she was trying to silence them. It was a mix of things, fear for whatever this could mean or couldn’t mean but also comfort, she’d been with someone she trusted with her life and she’d not made it awkward. A’whora’s affectionate side was a welcomed addition, the way she’d cuddled up to Tayce left her feeling lighter than ever. The way her eyes crinkled as she laughed at whatever dumb comment Tayce has made was euphoric.

God damn, she was in deep.

She somehow managed to look attractive, sat there with her hair messy in one of Tayce's baggy shirts she’d flung to attempt to cover herself, preoccupied with shoving beans in her mouth after she’d served them both breakfast. Tayce tried to focus on eating her own, though her eyes never quite left the blonde. Something about her was magnetic. She couldn’t help but look at her and feel her heart squeeze with how much she adored her.

“You just gonna stare at me or are you gonna eat? Your food is getting cold!” A’whora pouted slightly at the lack of attention Tayce was giving her food. God, Tayce wanted to kiss that pout off her.

“Hmm? You should be taking it as a compliment, I never normally put someone above my beans.” “Wow, she thinks I'm better than beans on toast. How romantic.” A’whora scoffed, she knew that it was some kind of warped compliment, something Tayce didn’t want to actually say but imply through something humorous to shelter the realisation of the true meanings of her words. Though she did get it, Tayce held her highly, over most people even. It made her hopeful, maybe they stood a chance if she cared that deeply? They ate with a few more quips, the atmosphere too easy for what they’d done the night prior. A’whora was thankful for the lack of awkwardness though her roommate was the other end of the spectrum. She had far too many thoughts and had to spill them to someone, maybe it would be good to give Bimini a call?

God, this was a lot to deal with.

---

“Bim? I need help, asap.” Tayce rushed out as her friend answered the phone, more than ready to spill everything to someone. She felt like A’whora, unable to keep any secrets without telling at least one person. Oh god, A’whora was going to tell someone. “You two didn’t get into a fight again, did you?” Bimini asked cautiously, not ready to deal with that trainwreck again. At least Tayce was more likely to admit her own fault but trying to reason with her would take too much energy. “No! The, uh, opposite actually.” The hesitation in her voice was way too obvious, the vulnerability threw Tayce through a loop. At least she knew Bimini wouldn’t bring it up to anyone. “You two fucked? Finally.” Bimini laughed down the line, it felt like inevitably they’d hook up especially after Tayce came out. The way they looked at each other? Nothing platonic about that, in Bimini’s humble opinion “Yeah, what the fuck do I do?” Tayce sighed, putting her phone to the side as she put her head in her hands. Why was this so complicated? All these feelings, it was so much to deal with. “Have you two talked about it? How’s she acting?” “She’s been pretty good, nothing odd, I guess. We haven’t talked about it really, just acknowledged it happened and then she made breakfast.” “Wait, she made you breakfast?” Bimini paused, Tayce could hear the cogs whirring in their brain. Tayce narrowed her eyes, trying and failing to figure out what she meant.

“Does that... mean something?” She hesitated. Surely it couldn’t be that important. Making breakfast for someone wasn’t that deep. “She’s showing you how much she loves you!” “It’s not that deep, I was just hungry,” Tayce laughed, the idea was absolutely ludicrous. She’d just acted on Tayce’s stomach growling, like any sane human being would.

“It’s A’whora, her love language is gifts and acts of service, y’know. She adores you and does things for you to show it, you know she does.” Bimini followed up, knowing Tayce was silently admitting defeat when she didn’t answer. As much as she didn’t believe it, it made sense. She’d offered to buy food when she messed up, often doing things if Tayce was tired. She’d always chalked it up to A’whora being a bit dramatic, but it made a little too much sense to just be a coincidence anymore. “God, what… what the fuck do I even do in this situation?” Tayce sighed, groaning at the amount of things this could all mean and how she should approach it. Who could even make sense of these things? It was a nightmare. “I’d say talk to her but you avoided that last time.” “I can’t just tell her, what if it makes things awkward?” Tayce spoke softly, unsure of what could happen and too afraid to take a huge step. All she wanted was A’whora but she couldn’t risk losing her after what had happened last time.

Bimini paused, hearing Tayce so hesitant was strange.

“This is why it took you 22 years to consider you were into women, isn’t it? You’re useless with girls.” Asttina chimed in, jumping out of nowhere to surprise both Tayce and Bimini. “Asttina! She’s going through a lot to cut her some slack.” “She needs to hear the truth, you need to talk to her or this is just going to become more of a mess.” Asttina sighed, Tayce didn’t want to admit she was right but she knew. They’d talked it out last time and it went smoothly, A’whora wouldn’t just turn cold on her if they were having a discussion. Her shoulders slumped in a small bit of relief, hoping that it wouldn’t be so scary, perhaps.

She could end up with the person that she wanted, the one no one could ever compare to.

Maybe that was worth the risk? “Alright, you have a point. I’ll talk to her. What’s the worst that could happen? We’ve already fucked, there’s not more to it.” --- A’whora knew something was up with Tayce.

She was too in her head about anything to do with feelings, especially in the wake of her recent realisations and just attempting to converse with A’whora. The way they had acted last night would set her right off. She needed a second opinion, though she suspected Tayce was calling Bimini or Asttina out of panic again. The duty thus fell to Ellie, she knew how to keep her friend's mouth shut.

“Hey bitch, what’s up?” “I fucked Tayce.” A’whora got straight to the point. Ellie spluttered a laugh, her cackles crackling through the phone speaker.

“You two shagged? Fucking finally, we’ve all been waiting.” A’whora huffed, unimpressed by the reminder of the constant jabs about sexual tension between her and her roommate. It wasn’t like she was unaware of everything, but it was mostly her profound ability to repress her feelings and Tayce being so affectionate, at least she thought it was before all of this. “Yes, but you can’t tell anyone,” She paused, “Especially not Lawrence.” “Why not? She’ll hear about it anyway, God knows you can’t keep secrets for shit.” Ellie huffed back. The pair of them were horrible at keeping things from people, Ellie almost always ended up spilling things to Lawrence when she had the chance. “Not the point, how did this happen?”

“We were tipsy and everyone else had partnered off, you were too busy making out with Lawrence, and Bim and Asttina were uncomfortably close to going at it. We went home and things escalated and she... ended up in my bed naked.”

“Do you make a habit of hooking up with your friends?” “No, only the tall ones. Which is exactly why you won’t tell Lawrence. She doesn’t need to know about what we did that time—“

“No one needs to know.” Ellie interrupted, desperately trying to steer the conversation away.She knew bringing it up would be the best way to buy Ellie’s silence. They’d never told anyone about that night and planned to keep it that way, alcohol did a lot to a person and almost shagging your friend is one of them.

“Anyway, she’s a bit.. off now, I guess. Not bad or anything but she just seemed to be processing everything very slowly. How do you deal with that?” A’whora questioned, exasperated. Tayce was always a bit of an enigma, it made navigating everything needlessly difficult but she didn’t blame her. It was a lot to deal with realising your own sexuality and coming to terms with it, she had every reason to be shaken at anything happening between them. “You deal with it by not crushing on the most emotionally unavailable person you know.” A’whora wanted to get defensive— Tayce wasn’t emotionally unavailable, she was just.. complex. She wasn’t one to be super outward with things, she liked to keep to herself when something was bothering her and not make a big deal of it. Though it served no help to the current predicament, only to show how whipped she was for Tayce.

“No, you torture your friends seeing you pine for years when it’s clear that you both love each other.” “I know you mean me and Loz but that’s you and Tayce, hen.” Ellie laughed, anyone with eyes could see they were a little closer than most friends. It was cute at first but neither of them acted on anything and one of them not realising her feelings until recently made it painful to watch. “She’s not in love with me!” The blonde huffed, “I would’ve known by now if she was.”

“She’s in love with you you’re just too dumb to see it.” Even Ellie saw it, the way Tayce looked and acted around A’whora was way more loving and tender than she’d ever been with any of her friends. It was like she was the only person to exist, everything in the world that Tayce loved rolled into one person.

It would have been cute if it wasn’t so painful to watch her not realise her own feelings. “Like you were with Lawrence?” “Yes but I have a girlfriend, now go get your welsh hound.”

---

“Aurora?” Tayce poked her head round the door to her room, visibly nervous.

Oh god. Real name, Tayce looked awkward, shit was about to hit the fan.

“Come in, what’s bothering you.” Tayce settled next to the blonde on her bed, her nerves were clear as day from her body language. The way her eyes darted to anything other than A’whora, her finger restlessly tapping her leg. She looked uncomfortable, though there was a determination pushing her though it. The way she sat up so straight like she had something to do, no matter how much it ate her up inside.

“Nothing. I mean, it’s not bothering me, I just want to talk.”There was the usual denial, Tayce knew it wouldn’t fool A’whora, it rarely did and she couldn’t fake it at the minute, not with everything on her mind “I know what you mean but saying it like that is very unnerving” A’whora laughed nervously, she wasn’t the anxious one but the way Tayce was acting made her hesitate. “It’s okay, I'm not going to kill you.” Tayce eased the tension with a joke, delighting in how A’whora smiled at the joke, wide enough for her dimples to show. “Alright come on talk to me then.” “I think i’m in love with you” Tayce blurted, mouth moving too fast for her mind to catch up.

Oh.

That was. Sudden, Tayce felt frozen, A’whora’s eyes trained on her. What did she do? No lead up, just said it. It wasn’t that hard but she shouldn’t have said it. The shock was written all over her face, it made Tayces stomach twist, a sinking feeling engulfing her as the worst case scenario seemed to come to life.

“You’re in love with me?” A’whora echoed, her voice soft with some emotion Tayce couldn’t catch on to, something meant to be comforting, hopefully.

She couldn’t reply, any words caught in her throat, fizzled out by the time she opened her mouth. What was she meant to say? She just said the scariest words she could’ve ever thought of saying. Her heart ached for her best friend in a way she never considered possible until a few weeks ago.

“Tayce…” A’whora trailed off, Tayce’s stomach churning more by the second.

She couldn’t make eye contact fearing what she might see on her face. She felt movement, A’whora coming closer to her. Was she trying to console her? Then she felt her face gently lifted up to meet A’whora’s eyes. Something shifted in her expression as she saw Tayce’s meekness, soft smile lighting up her features in a way that made Tayce’s heart flutter. She didn’t hold back, pulling her into a passionate kiss.

Tayce regained herself, kissing back as she felt A’whora melt into her. She felt more confident, taking the lead, her hand running through the blonde hair as her roommate moved closer, taking place in her lap.

They broke apart, a goofy grin growing on A’whora’s face as she stared at Tayce, eyes shining in wonder.

“I’ve been in love with you for years.” she murmured, feeling euphoric after the progression of events. Tayce cocked her head in puzzlement.

“Years?” “Years. How could I not? You’re gorgeous and the most positive energy I've ever met. Nothing is ever boring with you, there’s always something going on or that you can make interesting. There’s something magnetic about you, I can't leave you alone. We clicked so well, no one ever got me as well as you did and I think about how lucky I am we even became friends, Tayce.” “You’re such a hound.” Tayce laughed, visibly taken aback. She didn’t know how to react, that was a lot to process all at once but it made her feel on top of the world. The euphoria rushed through her, a grin growing larger on her face by the minute.

“Is that your way of saying you love me?” A’whora knew what she was trying to communicate, her face saying it all, she looked happier than she’d ever seen, apart from the time she’d bought her a personalised tin of baked beans, that was one of the few times Tayce had cried in front of her.

“It is, you’re a hound but you’re my hound.” The brunette wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into her lap to cuddle into her back. “Oh? Your hound? Sounds decent, I'll take it.” The wamrht in A’whora’s tone contrasted from her words, turning around to pull Tayce into another kiss. She knew this was going to be complicated, nothing was ever easy between the two of them but with enough communication it would work, they cared too much about each other to not try. Maybe this whole mess had been worth it, cuddled in Tayce’s arms like nothing else mattered, just the two of them against the world like it always had been.

#taywhora #rpdr fanfiction #if i had my way i would be yours

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little-mad · 4 years ago

Note

Ummm #21 from the dialogue prompt with Tara & Lane??

“Well, aren’t you fascinating”

From this list of prompts here

This was fun. If anyone has any other prompts, feel free to send them my way.

____________________________________________________________

Tara watched Thomas’s retreating figure until it disappeared into the distance. She never would have imagined she could enjoy their border-side meetings so much. At first, she’d only very hesitantly agreed to take part out of some strange curiosity. But now, she actually found herself looking forward to seeing her giant acquaintance.

Blowing out cheerful huff of air, Tara was turning to head back to town when she began to feel tremors rumbling the earth. They were the same kind of tremors that heralded Thomas’s arrivals and departures. However, the footsteps did not belong to Thomas.

Eyes as wide as saucers, Tara stood frozen in place, staring as none other than Thomas’s best friend emerged from behind a clump of trees on the other side of the border. Lane’s gaze immediately fell upon the human. He had a sour look on his face, as if he was looking at an irritating insect that wouldn’t stop buzzing in front of his face.

Tara instinctively took a step back. Though she knew giants never crossed over the border into human territory, she couldn’t help but feel as though she needed to put distance between herself and the man that had tried so hard to devour her.

“Thomas told me he had been meeting with you,” Lane began as he stepped closer to the edge of giant territory, “but it was still so bizarre to witness.” Were she not so anxious due to the giant’s presence, Tara might have felt embarrassed that her conversation with Thomas had been overheard.

“W-what are you doing here?” Tara demanded, mentally cursing herself for the weakness in her voice.

A low chuckle came from Lane as he stopped his approach a few feet away from the creek that separated human and giant land. “I suppose it must have been morbid curiosity,” he said with a slight shrug.

Tara narrowed her eyes at the giant. She didn’t trust him in the slightest, and the fact that he was sneaking behind his best friend’s back seemed to only prove her point. However, according to Thomas himself, Lane had started to get “slightly more receptive” to the idea of seeing humans as people rather than simply prey. Still, that wasn’t exactly all that assuring to Tara. “I hope you don’t intend to try to eat me again,” she warned.

Lane smirked. “Don’t tempt me.” Tara scowled and forced herself to stay in place rather than retreating backwards as her instincts were urging her to do. When it was obvious she wasn’t going to say anything in response, Lane sighed. “It’s not like I can cross the border,” he stated with an eye roll. “And besides, Thomas would kill me if he ever found out I ate his precious little human friend.” He said the words like they were almost painful to get out. He clearly still couldn’t comprehend the idea of a giant and human being friendly with one another.

“So, what? You’re just here for a friendly chat?” Tara shot back, arms folded over her chest firmly.

For a moment, Lane just glared down at the human. It almost seemed like he didn’t know the answer to the question, like he had shown up without a real purpose in mind. Finally he said, “I’m just trying to figure out what it is about you that made my friend lose his mind.”

It was Tara’s turn to roll her eyes. Thomas had told her a little bit about what he’d been hearing from Lane ever since that day. Apparently it was a lot of insisting from Lane that Thomas was insane or that his hunting instincts were broken somehow. Sometimes Tara would ask Thomas why he even bothered to put up with the guy anymore. Thomas would always remind her that Lane hadn’t told another soul about Tara and that he had never expressed a desire to end their friendship though they so strongly disagreed on the topic of humans. It was clear that Thomas believed there was some good in his best friend. Maybe Tara owed it to the guy to give Lane a chance?

She released a heavy sigh. “Listen, I’m not in the mood for a fight right now. If you want to have a civil conversation, I’m willing to hear you out.” Truthfully, she really wanted to turn tail and run home. However, whether she liked it or not, she’d somehow become humanity’s unofficial ambassador. Thomas was proof that giants could be reasonable. As much as she hated to admit it, Tara was pretty sure she would regret it if she didn’t at least attempt to bridge the gap with Lane.

The giant’s light eyebrows rose and he looked down at Tara as if he were studying her. She wasn’t exactly fond of the scrutiny, but she supposed it was an improvement from the look of distaste she’d been getting earlier. “Well, aren’t you fascinating,” Lane remarked dryly. “A human that wants to befriend giants.”

Tara scoffed, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, I never said I wanted to be your friend.”

Air rushed past her as Lane suddenly dropped into a crouch. After meeting with Thomas as many times as she had, Tara had become slightly more accustomed to the intimidatingly massive movements of giants. However, seeing the way Lane moved, she began to realize that Thomas may have been toning down his motions for her benefit.

“Good, because giants have no business making friends with their food,” Lane sneered. The same glint of hunger was in his eyes as the last time they’d met. It was obvious to Tara that he was itching to snatch her up and gobble her whole.

Lips pressed firmly together, Tara stared the blond giant down. She knew he wanted to provoke a reaction from her, though she didn’t know what he hoped to achieve in doing so. Perhaps he deemed it his duty to “put her in her place.” Either way, Tara wasn’t about to let his words get to her. “If that’s all you wanted to say to me, there are other things I could be doing,” she stated, though didn’t make to leave just yet.

Lane snorted, “Have to get back to the cave you live in, huh?”

Tara’s eyes narrowed. Thomas had told her that he’d informed Lane that humans did not in fact dwell in caves like barbarians as giant textbooks claimed. Evidently the information hadn’t sunk in. “I don’t live in a cave, I live in a house in a town,” she corrected, her voice tight with restrained irritation.

“That’s what Thomas said, but I don’t buy it,” Lane responded. He wore an amused look on his face, as if the mere idea that humans could be advanced enough to live in towns was funny.

It was clear that Lane was completely taken over by the propaganda giants had developed to paint humans in an inferior light. Unlike Thomas, he was unwilling to accept new information and quite adamant about clinging onto his preconceived notions. “Believe whatever you want,” Tara said with a dismissive hand wave. “Thomas described you as being scholarly, clearly he was mistaken.”

An angry frown formed on Lane’s face at Tara’s statement. “What is that supposed to mean?” he questioned sharply.

Tara suppressed a smirk as she gave a nonchalant shrug. “Well a real scholar would get their information from a primary source,” she told him. “You seem to base all your human knowledge on outdated secondary sources.”

During their last encounter, appealing to Lane’s morality hadn’t been especially effective. His sense of right and wrong was totally warped by brainwashing. And so, Tara decided it would be best to use the giant’s logical side against him.

With a scowl on his face, Lane shifted his weight so he now had one knee on the ground. “You’re not a reliable source, chances are you’re lying to try and make humanity seem less pathetic.”

Tara shook her head. The guy had some real trust issues when it came to humans. She didn’t see how he had any business being wary of humans when humans had only ever been giants’ victims.

“How about this then, next time Thomas comes to visit, you come with him,” she started. Lane opened his mouth to argue but she held up her hand to stop him. “I’ll bring with me something that undeniably proves how advanced humans are.” She wasn’t sure exactly what she’d bring. The first thing that came to her mind was a rifle, but her town had so few and they were only meant to be used in case of an emergency so she doubted she’d be allowed to borrow one. Maybe a book created using the printing press her town had gotten a few years back would do.

Lane looked skeptical. Tara had a feeling he didn’t like the idea of doing something that a human suggested. At the same time, if he refused it would be akin to turning away from a challenge. Lane definitely seemed like the competitive type. “Fine, but I’m sure you’ll only end up embarrassing yourself,” he relented.

Without bothering with a goodbye, Lane stood up and withdrew back into the depths of giant territory. Tara couldn’t help the smug smile that grew on her face as she watched him walk away.

#g/t prompt #g/t #g/t writing #giant/tiny #oc: Tara #oc: Lane #my writing #vore mention

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dreaminpeaches · 4 years ago

Text

“Ladies, Gentlemen, Enbies...HER--I mean Him? Or them?-- whatever, anyways here's the first part of my daydream paracosm, Humble Pie. I was really happy I was able to come up with the first part in a somewhat cohort manner. Part 2 is also going to follow this sometime soon, but after that its probably just gonna be short shorts, text exchanges, and or drabbles, but that first part’s finally a thing! And that’s cool”

“Also just reminder that this paracosm is set in a mix timeline, like people have flip phones, cassette tapes, but still also have stuff like gamer chairs, and slang like sus/lit exist, so I hope that doesn’t bother you..oof”

“Also I wrote this from my Remarkable, then convert it to text, and did some proof reading, but my handwriting is still can only be read by chickens and my dyslexia ninja has sneak 100 accuracy so..yeah

Word count: 6,115

TW: mention of Bullying, DeadBeat dad, Smoking, Drinking, Swearing (only for comedy’s sake tho’), Dissociation, Guilt (but don’t worry there’s still A LOT of fluff in this piece, tho)

Link to Alternate version on my off-site daydream blog: Humble pie part 1

=================================================================

"Okay, here we go" Beau said, taking one last drag of his cigarette, and taking in one last look at the panoramic view of the town below, Newbury, his hometown, he was away for a year because of college which he dropped out of. Well, "dropout" made it seemed like he had a choice, more like he flunked out, there were' 'reasons that 'made college impossible for Beau, reasons that he couldn't get into or more like reasons he didn't want to get into, these were the some reasons that turned what was suppose to be a 5 hour drive into an 8 hour one, making him stop ever so often to the nearest park, overlook, or clearing to get out, smoke and or take a short walk. These stops were so frequent by the time he reached his hometown’s overlook he was on his last stick, hard to believe he started the trip w/ a full box.

He dropped the last of the remains of the cig on the ground and stomped out the glow ember with his dark brown rounded toed boot, watching the embers glow go out made him feel similar in a way.

Beau took one more last look at the small town below blanketed by the dark, light sky. He looked around. the overlook, bring back memories of. late night make outs, sneak outs and general teenaged shenanigans.

Beau remembers once on a night he was really buzzed, a rare event for him, drinking with his buddies, rather it was the buzz from the beer, or he was just 'riding the 'high off scoring the winning goal for the team, or general teen hormones. He felt invincible, so invincible he stood up on the ledge and proclaimed himself as king of the world

A moment Beau looks back at and shakes his head as if to try to erase the memory from his mind like an etch n’ sketch, suddenly he got a bad taste in his mouth or maybe that's just the cigarettes "King of world….yeah, right" Beau said pulling up the collar of his jacket and shrugging his hands into his pockets, and headed back into the car.

It was getting late and there was no use in stalling any longer, might as well continue to the inevitable. Stalling may be that’s the feeling that's been following him the whole time, stalling the fact that he would have to return to his hometown a failure after being touted and praised for being a star athlete , and getting into a ivy league school, a feat his mom was really proud since she herself couldn't go to college because of having Beau at such a young age, and having to deal with a bunch of other “BS” as Beau would put it.

Beau really wanted to make her proud by becoming a famous football player and make tons of money so she wouldn't ever have to worry about bills n 'stuff and live in the malibu dream house she dreamed of living in since she was a kid, a dream she would talk about to her children like it was fairytale during when time got real tough.Even though she sounded upbeat over the phone about the news, Beau knew his mom was an expert when it came to masking her disappointment and skill that was pretty integral with dealing Beau's birth father. He just hopes she's not too disappointed

As the twilight sky grew more dark the street lights flickered on. Familiar and nostalgic landmarks and structures rolled by as Beau drove by with one hand gripping the wheel while the other hand hung casually out of the rolled down window. the nighttime breeze gentle, tossing his cart dirty blond hair mullet. The 'murmur of punk music lighty playing from the car's speaker, that was playing louder earlier but the volume's quickly depleted because blasting punk 'music at night in a small town is pretty serious offensive a risk, a younger Beau would play around with, but now being older he knows better.

Driving into his old neighborhood, seemingly not much has changed, but what do you expect from a small town? The old neighborhood consisted of typical signatures of most middle upper class .. neighborhoods, Christmas ' decorations long over due to be taken down, manicured lawns, next to slightly less manicured lawns. Some lawns adored w/ gnomes and flamingos, a step up from the lawns of homes in his childhood neighborhood whose homes had what one could consider a lawn but just barely, Beau and his brother were lucky enough to have a sizable back yard and a tree house.

His family's lawn had a bunch of outdoor toys laid about on their lawn: a nerf gun, a pink tricycle, a tiled dyed color bouncy ball and an empty container of mega bubble wand. Beau drove up in the driveway being careful to not accidentally run over any of the toys in the yard.

He eject the mixtape from the player and put it into his jacket chest pocket. Beau leaned over and rummaged through the glove compartment fishing out a small travel can of axe's body spray and another small spray can of mouthwash, he used both to cover the scent of cigarette smoke, a smell his mother was highly sensitive to. He popped in a stick of spearmint for extra measure before getting out of the car and going to the trunk to retrieve his suitcase. Beau only had one suitcase since all the stuff really needed and cared about conveniently fitted in one suitcase.

Beau propped up his suitcase as he closed the trunk, the car beeped and blinked as he pressed the lock button. He headed up the pathway to the front door, his heart beating louder and louder with each step leading up to the front door.

Beau took a deep breath, Pulling himself together. "Okay" He said under his breath as his hand slowly reach for the knob but before he could even get a good grip, the door swung open, Beau's eyes raced up to see the thinning hair of a middle aged man, Beau eyes lowered a bit more to see the mustached clad face of the man the hair belonged to. "Hey, Big Boss! '' the mustache man said with a grin. The man was Beau's stepfather, David.

"Hello, David, I-I mean Dad." Beau awkwardly greeted his stepdad, trying his best not to show discomfort at his step dad's “nickname" for him.

"Ha, ha that's okay, son!”David laughed, giving Beau a hefty pat on the back.

"Here, let me get your bags." David said, reaching for Beau's suitcase, looking behind Beau expecting more bags

“You only brought one bag?" he questioned, looking curiously.

'--I like to be efficient" Beau muttered with a shrug and a side glance. "HAHA you and me both, Big B" David chuckled playful elbowing Beau, who gave a half-smile and a small chuckle--well, more like a slight nose huff

"Hey, honey Big B is home!" David shouted as Beau closed the front door.

His mother came rushing from the bedroom in her rose pink robe w/a barbie in insignia on the front with matching fuzzy slippers, her sandy blond hair still damp from the shower.

"My little boy, oh!" she said, warping Beau in a tight motherly embrace. "Welcome home!" Beau's mother pulled back for a second, cupping her son's face in her hands “you’re still so handsome"

"Wait..." Beau gently removed his mom's hands from his face "Are you okay, mom?" He asked his considerate brown eyes searching his mother's teal eyes for any sign of distress.

"Of course, sweetie," his mom beamed. "I have all of my loved ones under one roof. What's more to ask?"

it's just that I didn't- Y-you know." Beau said with downcast eyes

"Oh, that" his mom said wide eyes and then shaking her head in dismissed

"Don't worry about not finishing college, I mean just look at me"

“But You just seemed so proud that I got in, I just didn't want to let you down"

“Sweetie, it's fine," his mom said, gently guiding his head up with her hand to look at him "I was not proud that-You were becoming the smart, sweet kind young man, I always knew you were, but now. I'm just happy that you’re here and I get to see you go. on the journey myself!" Beau chuckled tightly and blushed at his mom's admiration.

"Plus, Your mom's not the only one who is happy to have You home!” David said, gesturing towards the hallway. Beau looked to see a small figure peeking from the corner, the figure quickly disappeared followed by an overflow of giggles.

A smile slowly creeped across Beau's face, he slowly kneeled down. " "Gasp * Is that my little care bear?"

From the shadows totted out, a little girl dressed in a blue care bear patterned nightgown, her blonde hair tied up in pigtails, she grasped a love-a-lot bear in one arm while her other arm was open as she raced towards Beau, also with arms wide open for a hug "Bo-Bo"

"Hey, care bear!" Beau cooed as he picked up his little sister "Wow, You've gotten so big since the last time I saw you!

"Carrie's been asking when you were coming since you told us you were coming home "David stated

"Really?"

"Yep!'' Carrie nodded proudly "You still have the love-a lot bear I won at grad night". Beau vividly remembers winning Love A Lot and his friends making fun of him, but Carrie really appreciated it more than he thought.

"Yeah, she takes it with her everywhere!" mom emphasized “Thank god, the kindergarten has a security blanket policy!

"Aww..." Beau said fondly looking at Carrie, who had her head resting on his shoulder, still grasping love a lot.

Beau thought for a moment and looked around "wait, where Dev?"

"Oh" mom said putting her hand on her head with a semi sigh "He's been going through... things"

"Teenager things: David specified "He's the big one three now.. "

“Don't worry, I can talk to him!”Beau said, confidently, slowly nodding his head

. Carrie lets out a small yawn "Aw, you sleepy, care bear?" Beau asked as Carrie rubbed her eyes

"It's past her bedtime, but she really wanted to see you," Mom said, stroking Carrie's hair. "Is someone ready for the sleep shuttle'?" Beau asked Carrie, looking at her in her sleepy hazel eyes, she nodded in response

"Alright, Here we go!" Beau held Carrie in both hands placing his arms out in front of him, he kneeled down and started counting down. "3…..2...1. Blast off!"

Beau shot Carrie in the as he stood back up. As he moved towards Carrie's bedroom, he moved all around side to side, up and down while making spaceship sounds, Carrie was giggling all the way through.

"Incoming! "Beau shouted as he swooshed Carrie round a few more times before landing her swiftly on the bed.

"Huston, the eagle. has landed!." Beau said, holding his ear as if he had an earpiece "Not eagle! Bear!" Carrie stated holding up her care bear "correction, the "BEAR" has landed!" Beau correcting himself, bringing a huge smile to her face as she nuzzled her care bear

"Okay, night, right, care bear" Beau said patting carries head

"Wait!" Carrie said holding on to her brother's arm "Is Bo-Bo still gonna be here in the Morning?""Of course, I'm not going anywhere at least for a while.." "Beau said, kneeling down to Carrie's eye level.

"Okay, I like having Bo-Bo around:'' Carrie said "and I like being around" Beau said, "see you in the morning, care bear" Beau gives Carrie a good night kiss on the forehead.

She settles into bed as Beau closes the door. Beau grinned to himself, feeling lucky to have such a cute sister. He remembers when Devin was that little, speaking of Dev. Beau apphoraced Dev's bedroom door. The door was caution tape, Don't enter signs, with a please knock before entering sign.

At first Beau did think about knocking but then thought "I could be a respectful older brother respect the sign or I could have fun and be a little shit. He pondered about it for a minute then-"yeah, I'm gonna be a little shit.”

Beau took a card out his wallet and wedged it in between the door to jimmied the lock. He peeked through the door to see Dev playing a video game on the tv. "you little..." Beau said under his breath, before bombastically opening the door "Hey there, squirt!" Beau said, shoving the door open

"Didn't you read the sign?!" Dev said as he turned around in his gamer chair in both shock-and annoyance

"Wow, that's a pretty warm welcome to give your older brother you haven't seen in a year!" Beau snarked, pretending to look hurt'' "Nice to see you too!"

"Oh my god!" Dev said, rolling his eyes and turning his chair back to tv, bringing his attention back to the game.

"and here I thought you were working on a project or homework or some school shit!" Beau continued "but no, you're just sitting here playing one of your little nerd games"

"Oh my god, can't you just leave!" Dev groaned as he hunching closer to the tv.

"You couldn't at least say "Hi" " Beau said now standing right behind Dev gamer chair

Dev raised and waved his hand half-heartedly and flatly said "hi"

"Well, damn I feel loved," Beau said sarcastically. "aren't you at least gonna look at me?" shaking the gaming chair a bit to gain an ounce of his little brother’s attention.

“ I saw you "Kool aid man" into my room. Is that enough?" Dev said still focusing on the game Beau sighed, then got an idea "Dev! Dev! I think there's something wrong with my heart I think I gonna-ugh!" He said staggering forward a bit before falling in Dev's lap, knocking out the game controller out of Dev's hands.

"Come on! I was in the middle of battle!" Dev whined looking at his brother playing dead

"Get off of me!" Dev go armed as he tried to push beau off with no luck

"Come on, Beau!" He gored in frustration “I know you're not dead! I can still feel your heartbeat..."

Get up!" Beau remained still, Dev rolled his eyes; he knew the exact words to get his brother off his back or in this case lap.

"Big brother, can you please get off of me n Dev utter begrudgingly "Aw, you haven't call me ‘Big brother’ in years" Beau chimed with a smile, finally getting up "I'm still kind of hurt, that you cared about your gaming progress than the well being for your one and only big brother"

"You were still breathing, I could literally see you inhaling and exhaling." Dev clarified rubbing his forehead

"Touche, I guess" Beau said he then directed Dev's chair in front his bed," now that I have your attention"

"Okay, I guess I should say sorry since you couldn't and say "hi" to me because you were too busy saving some elf princess, or some anime chick with huge melons"

"I-H-Hey I don't even play those types of games!" Dev argued blushing

" .-sure you "don't'." Beau taunted with a wink, Dev goanned "Anyways, Anyways you don't have to say "hi",; but you could at least not talk to me"

Beau suggested, shrugging. "I guess" Dev mumbled kind of sinking into his chair "cool, so how's life?" Beau started, trying to start a diagoul "okay"

"How's school?"

"Okay"

"How’re your friends?"

"Okay"

"Got a girlfriend?"'

"NO”

"Got a boyfriend?"

N-NO"

"Got any crushes"

“….NO…..."

"joined any clubs or any other after school junk?"

" ..... NO..."

"Are you just gonna answer all my questions in one word?"

Dev fell quiet, and shifted his gaze from his brother

“Okay, that's it!" Beau huffed, he picked up Dev and hoasted him over his shoulder "Hey! put me down!" Dev-shouted , beating his fists on Beau's back "Not until you talk to me like an actual person, and one worded answers aren't gonna cut it, squirt!"

"MOM! Dad!"

"Mom and Dav-Dad are fast asleep, and you know they both sleep like rocks!" Beau stated'' the only person you'll wake up is Carrie, and You don't want to wake little care bear, now do YOU?"

Dev fell Quiet again, "You know I can hold you like this for hours, you aren't really that heavy, or you can just end this and talk to me" Beau suggested ending the suggestion with a sigh and started to stomp his foot impatiently..

Dev continued the silent treatment for a bit until letting out a meek "Okay...I'll try" .

Hey, three words, that's a start!" Beau cheekly commented,He sat Dev back down in his green gamer chair.

"Okay, do over!" Beau said casually sitting across from Dev and his bed. "so, how's school going?" "F-fine” Beau gave Dev a intense look, reminding Dev of his word count “N-no, I mean it's just weird" Dev stuttered choosing his words carefully, Dev fiddled with his hoodie sleeves.

"and it's weird because..." Beau initiated, gesturing his hand toward encouraging Dev to continue "It's weird because.... I don't know, Middle school is way different than 'elementary school, I mean I knew that from tv, but middle school isn't like tv."

"It's okay, nothing like tv, that thing lies” Beau softly chuckled to himself and continued “I remember thinking Pogo sticks were the SHIT-cuz 'of people and cartoons on tv made it look so easy"

"I finally got enough money for one-- you were like little you probably don’t remember this-- but I was SO HYPED, I wanted mom to watch me. I took one hop, fell on my ass, and never hopped on that bitch again. I was pissed, I think mom was trying to her best not to laugh but I was so pissed I think I didn’t notice until now. I chucked the pogo stick in the garage, and I never looked at that bitch again”

Dev let out a stiff laugh, the defensive wall Dev put was slowly breaking

"Oh WAIT WAIT!” Beau said taking a moment to correct himself “ That WASN’T the last time the last time I looked that bitch, I fished it out of garage years later, only cuz’ I need some money for Madden. So, I did look at that bitch one more time, but only to sell that bitch.”

Dev let out a more audible laugh, but quickly caught himself and recollected, returned to his disillusioned teenage state.

"Anyway, The teacher's are kind of weird, like a lot of them hate my guts already, except for the coaches who are super nice to me." Dev explained, kind of looking away from his brother

"Weird, why do you think that is?" Beau asked whole hearty

"Because I'm related to you, Numb skull!" Dev blunted , groaning putting his hand on his forehead

"Oh damn, I guess that's my fault." Beau realized, rubbing the back of his neck "My bad. that my awesomeness is just lengardy"

Dev shook his head and rolled his eyes "It's not awesome to live in YOUR shadow!" Dev sulked, sinking back into his chair, his hands covering his face.

"You don't have to follow in my awesomeness, I know I'm a hard act to follow." Beau boasted teastingly so"You just gotta make your own awesomeness."

"What does that even mean?" Dev questioned, moving his hands down, allowing his eyes to peek through his fingers, trying not to given the urge to roll his eyes

"It's like my awesomeness comes from my boyish charm and good looks..." Beau claimed, striking an award winning smile, The urge not to roll his eyes was becoming even hard for Dev, but he still had to try and respect Beau "But your awesomeness could come from being good at games, or computers shit or math or robots or something--I don't know something real nerdy"

"I guess, you're right" Dev mumbled and shrugged,lifting himself up back into a sitting position rather than almost spilling out of his chair.

"Its not a guess, its science!" Beau declared proudly, tapping his temple with his index finger

"No,that's not science!" Dev arguing his brother's stupidity, flatly shaking his head in disagreement

"See, there you go using your nerd awesomeness" Beau pointed out with a wink "Keep that up and you'll go from Beau's lil bro, to just ‘Dev’ in no time." Beau playful tousled Devs mop dirty blonde hair

"I mean.." Dev continued batting his brother's hand away, "I was also thinking of joining the video game club or the robotics club at school."

"There you go another nerdy thing that to add to your own awesomeness" Beau said

"Yeah...." Dev continued ignoring his brother's comment' “Some of my friends are thinking about joining, and it would be a nice place to go away from mom and dad."

"I had sick memories of hanging out with the team, we got into some wild shit." Beau said laughing to himself, fondly reminiscing "But I'm sure you and you geek squad could have "wild" times too, like making an anime robot 'weify." or whatever those called or finding a new math formula or something"

Dev fell quiet for another moment, Beau always seems like he’s in between being supportive and subtly roasting him, Dev then uttered "um... I think I kind of have a crush... on a girl..."

"AYE, let's go! "Beau exclaimed, clapping and shaking Dev's chair for a bit before bouncing back on the bed'' Come on, don't leave me hanging, what's her name? "Have you talked to her vet? Have you asked her out? Have-"

"Calm down!" Dev demanded "I said I had a crush, I didn't say we’re going out.'"

"Oh, so you haven’t talked to her, huh?”

"No, I-I don't even know her name" Dev huffed, he let his arms slip into his oversize sleeves and covered his sleeves with his face in frustration.

"You know you could just ask, not the chick, like just ask around"

"I can't do that because if I do, people will find out I like her and if she finds out, I would just have to stop going to school!”

"Okay, let’s just pretend you DO have the balls to talk to this girl, what's the worst that could happen?" Beau suggested

"She finds out that I like her, thinks I'm weird and never wants to talk to me again or even look at me!” Dev muffled through his sleeved covered face

"You really think she can sus that out all in one go!" Beau said "I mean she is a middle Schooler unless she's like a young nancy drew, she is not going to chew you up and spit out like that." Beau explained "speaking of which''

Beau paused for a moment to spit out his gum into the trash can "Score!"

"Anyways, have you done anything weird to her or around her?"

"No, I mean I look at her in the hallways before and in between class, but I don't like-- stalk her or anything too weird." Dev mumbled, moving his sleeves from his face, but his head was still targeted down at his fingers fiddling with a tag on his black shorts

"So, then what's the fear?" Beau inquired, resting his chin on the heel of his palm

Dev thought for a moment, his eyes shifting looking for an answer." I-I guess I just don't know how to talk to her."

"Well, fuck, that's easy" Beau chuckled “Just talk about school shit, or just say "hi"

"Is it really that easy?"

"Yeah, if you have the balls for it" Beau reiterated "Think about it like this, the dudes you play in your little nerd games have to fight a dragon, a demon or some anime witch with huge melons to talk to the girl they like and they er brave enough to do all of that wacky shit. But you’re lucky, you don't have a dragon for real in your way to keep you talking from your crush. The dragon's just in your head! If those hero dudes can fight dragons they actually can see, doesn't that mean you can fight a dragon you don't even see."

"That was a really lame and kind of confusing metaphor" Dev sassed " But I guess understand what your trying to say"

"Exactly" Beau said nodding confidentiality

"Can we talk about mom and dad?" Dev asked sheepishly, looking up at his brother, (well as much as he could with his shaggy bangs in the way), his fingers now toying with his hoodie strings

"Did something happen?"

"No, I mean yeah, I mean it's just weird" Dev said "Mom and dad are starting to get more annoying but I don't know if they were always like that or they like charged"

"No, parents don't really change-usually” Beau explained “It's just that being a teenager makes you hypersensitive to a bunch of shit and makes you wanna be alone more. Parents, the good ones like spending time with their kids and they actually want quality time n' shit and that's where they start to get annoying".

“"Oh okay,” Dev nodded.'' It's just weird because sometimes I feel like I hate them, but I don't want to. I think I just really want to be alone more like you said but I don't want to shut them out, I just want them to get that." Dev-fiddles with the strings of his green hoodie

"Yeah, I think they do in a weird old people kind of way. Believe it or not they were teenagers to even if that was back in the stone age n' shit" Beau joke"

Dev let out an actual laugh, a sign to Beau that he's little bro was being less of a moody teenager

"Anyway, even with that said mom and david-I mean dad aren't mind readers, it would be cool if you give them a heads up, you don't have to tell them all about what's going on in your little teen nerd brain but at least something simple like something weird or funny that happened at school, or asking for help on homework or a project for class or some shit like that, I'm pretty sure Dav-dad would love that.."

"I guess I could try". Dev said slightly nodding his head "But Carrie is kind of weird too!

"How can Carrie be weird, she's 5.” Beau scoffed "she doesn't do anything weird really"

Dev added" it's just sometimes she's regular cute and other times she's annoyingly cute if that makes sense"

"I mean like kind of get what you're saying but "Beau shrugged gesturing his hand toward prompting Dev to continue

"Like I still look out for her because she little, but because she's little that means I have to do dumb stuff like look for monsters under her bed or do that sleep shuttle thing you do, but I can't really do it because my arms give out halfway through and she's heavier than she looks."

"Well, little brothers and sisters are annoying, it's kind of their job, trust me I know from experience" Beau: put his hand on Dev's knee, Dev tried to Swat at it but Beau quickly put his hand back with a smirk.

"But like with mom and da-David just cuz she's annoying doesn't mean You can’t look out for her n stuff"

"I guess, its because lately, it seems like'' Dev paused 'for a beat, his hands hard gripping the strings of his hoodie, before continuing" I don't know mom and dad have been paying more attention to her than me"

A mischievous smile creeps across his face. "AW does someone miss being the baby?"'

"Oh, fuck! I knew you 'er gonna say that!" Dev blurted out, feeling really exposed, he pulled his hoodie strings allowing his head to be consumed by his hoodie, all but his nose.

"Hey! language,” Beau said, surprised at his little brother's reaction those harsh words coming out of the mouth of small boy sporting a Yoshi hoodie

"You cuss' all the time!" Dev huffed pulling his hoodie back down, then crossing his arm definitely

"Yeah, but I'm older than you, and if mom and David--DAD hear you curse they’er gonna know you got it from me and won't get off my ass about it!"

Dev stared at his brother, simmering in frustration in failing to coming up w/a good come back or a flaw in his brother's logic, He let out a heavy sigh and resumed "Anyways, it's NOT like I miss being the baby, I just miss being able to hold their attention without Carrie coming in and stealing them anyway, I don't know its weird"

"Wait, did you just say that you wanted to be alone and away from mom and David-fuck. I'm not even gonna try more-he's asleep anyways." giving up any attempt to make the word "Dad" same with the name "David"

"Yeah, I know that's what makes it weird!" Dev admitted, he sulked back deeper into his chair and let out a groan.

"You know Carrie's not awake all the time, maybe you can talk to mom and David, when she goes down for her nap, hell, I could just take her to the park for a day." Beau offered

"You'd really do that for me?" Dev peeped, quickly lifting himself up in a sitting position, surprised at his brother kind offer

"Yeah, anything to make you less of a weird angsty shut in, with a bunch of cringy keep out signs and keep out tape!" Beau gestured towards the door

"Actually, I got that caution tape from a real crime scene" Dev clarified, with a smug smile

"Really?" Beau taking a longer closer look at the door

"No, thick head, I found it in a dumpster next to party city!"

"You go dumpster diving?" Beau said, raising an eyebrow

"I have a life outside of YOU!" Dev stated proudly

"Okay, and on that... Weird garbage goblin flex, sibling bonding time is over." Beau said getting up from the bed and heading for the door

"Actually, one more thing..." Beau said quickly, turning around, rushing towards Dev, putting him into a headlock.

"Did ya miss me? Come on, tell me that you missed me!" Beau taunted as he gave his brother a long and through noogie "Ouch, Ow, Ow, Okay, okay, I missed You. Geez:" Dev pleaded trying to struggle out of his brother's grip

"That's what I wanted to hear!" Beau said with a smirk, letting 'Dev go.

"Ugh! my hair" Dev fumed , gawking at his even more messy mop of hair.

"Like you care about appearances" Beau chuckled" mop top nerd!"

"Mullet-hair metal meathead!"

"Ouch, that was pretty good" Beau teased pretending to look hurt "Garbage Goblin"

"You already-"Dev started but was cut off by Beau closing the door

"Too late, the door is closed, I can't hear you, which means I win!" Beau said through the door, laughing at his brother's muffled fury of frustration.

Beau grinned relishing in the absolute confusion of his younger brother, but that good vibe quickly faded once he arrived at the door to his old bedroom. He just stood there and stared at the door for a bit, he could feel the icky stew of the emotions from bubbling back up again.

He flexed his hand a few times as if this was the first time he's ever pored a door, Beau's hand reached for the door handle before retracted as if the knob was red hot.

Beau sheepishly looked around as if somebody was watching him, no one was but it sure did feel like it. He considered sleeping on the couch, but that would be weird, since it seemed like his step dad put his luggage in his room. so, eventually he would have to go into his room anyway.

Beau took a deep breath. "Come on, it's just a door, dude!" He told himself Beau's hand rested on the door knob, he took another deep, his hand gained a stronger grip, and he slowly pushed the door open, Beau carefully entered the room as he closed the door behind him. Looking around the room was plaster with posters of football players and a few pinups of doe-eye, sensual women in swimsuits and other scantily clad outfits.

Athletic medals, trophies and awards displayed proudly on his bookshelf that lacked any actual books, those trophies stood next to pictures of Beau with his teammates, all illuminated by the moon's dull pale blue light. These relics of what felt like a bygone era used to fill Beau with so much pride and joy but looking at them now just leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

He could barely even recognize himself in those photos. This whole room felt like a shrine or more like a tomb to someone who no longer exists.

Looking at all this stuff just made the icky feelings from before rise up to the back of his throat making the bad taste linger even longer.

Beau couldn't really pin what-these feelings were, so he shifted his focus on just getting some sleep

As he thought, Beau's step dad put his luggage on his bed. He opened his bag and quickly changed into a white tank top and some grey sweatpants. He fished out the mix tape from his jean jacket and put into the gray clucky music player on his nightstand. Beau turns the music up loud enough for him to hear but not loud enough for disturb anyone else. Heavy metal music (ironally) helped him sleep on hard nights.

Beau laid in bed focusing on the one spot in his room that wasn't decorated with high school memorabilia. Focusing on that spot was way better than focusing on the icky feelings from earlier. All he needed to was focus on sleep just sleep, Beau closed his eyes and tried to focus on just sleep.

The next time Beau opened his eyes, he was back in the hallway of his highschool. Beau looked around confused why he was back here but before he could really sus out the situation, his thoughts were interrupted by a loud thud. He followed the sound of the thud that led to a scene of a bespectacled student being shoved up against the lockers. The student's face contorted by fear.

"P-please, d-don't hurt me. "the student uttered, the words quivering as it left his lips.

"Aww, look at him, guys." a familiar voice said, Beau couldn't see whom the voice belonged to. There was a strange mist in the hallway that obscured the person's face.-

"He's scared." the voice said mockly, the person nodded towards a group of people whose faces were also obscured by the mist, they laughed in response

“Don't worry, little buddy, I'm not gonna hurt ya:" the person taunted as he tightened his grip on the student and shoved his body up against the failing student. "As long as you don't squeal" .

"You squeal, and I'll fry you like the pig you are, got it. Swine?"

"I-I p-promise I W-won't. J-just please let me go!" the student begged

Beau was disturbed by scene happening before him, but along with the feel of disgust came a feeling of familiarity, like he's been there before

Just then the fog lift to reveal the face of a younger version of Beau dawned in his red “New Burny High school” letterman jacket. He was smirking relish in the fear he was inflicting on the poor student.

Older Beau slowly back up, almost stumbling as he was coming to the realization of the origin of all those icky feelings from before

"I don't know, do we trust him, guys?" Younger beau asked cocking his head back to his teammates, who shook their head in disagreement "The Boys and I don't seem very sure of that, I think I'm gonna have to test your loyalty !" Younger Beau winded up his arm for a punch, But before his fist could make an impact.

Beau found himself back in his room in a cold sweat, hyperventilating as quickly rose from his bed. His room, still illuminated by the moonlight, with the metal mix tape softly playing in the background. He looked at his hand as if they were lethal weapons. How could I do such a thing?

#daydream blog #daydream blogging #daydream dairy #paraportal #paracosm: humble pie #para: beau #para: devin #para: carrie #immersive daydreaming #paracosm

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grim-faux · 3 years ago

Text

2 _ 31 _ Reflections

First

The rain slapped against the windowsill, the wood soaked entirely and coming apart by slivers as he shifted. For once, he was working at his fingers and not the soft timber. A particularly stubborn splinter between his fingers refused to emerge, so he sat for the time chewing off callouses.

Far below in the alley, a pack of children skittered through the gray mist racing boats in a gutter. It’s a group of what might be four, it's difficult to take full stock from the angle and how indistinguishable the shapes are. He knows they are pack because they play a game together and appear mostly organized. Games help children figure out cooperation and interdependence, it’d let them get a grip on skills, and other important things. Playing a small game could also pull them from the hostile world they inhabited, and… he didn’t know how to put it into speek. Reset their heads. Lessened the fatigue of struggle for survive, distanced them from the uncertainties they dealt with constantly. Such as food and safe shelter. It was free and light.

It would be fun to go out there and meet with the other children. See how they did speek, possibly learn where they came from - if they came from beyond the city or knew nothing but the Pale City. Maybe find out where they planned to go next. Could learn about new dangers or unseen threats. Sometimes kids share foods, but not always, it depended on the situation and how plentiful rations were. He wondered who was winning the game. The boats worked well, bobbing along the deep rapids of the gulley and staying afloat despite the turbulent weather.

Trying to meet other kids wouldn’t be safe. The Thin Man might frighten the child pack or hurt them. Worst could happen, what if chase and turned them into sad little shadows? True, that didn't always happen, but it did happen to Her. And they were not Mono. Not same. The tall thin man was unpredictable, did without reason, does without knowing the why. In all the time he chased the man in the hat, Mono didn't learn much of his ways or whims. Even for him the game was dangerous. Though the tall thin man usually seemed calm and indifferent, it was always very obvious when someone something irritated him. The Thin Man did give fair warning.

He shouldn’t be sitting here watching, but he can’t help it. Even if he can’t pack, he still longed for the together. Share foods and speek, watch for someone and then do sleep. Huddle close when it’s cold, and the weather was punishing. Call for friend, work through a hard puzzle. Trick monsters. The sort of stuff kids did.

The Thin Man keeps Mono, but that is all. The tall thin man is not child, he is the adult. Maybe once a long-long time ago, the man in the hat was child and did hide, flee from danger, and searched for food, or played games. He might’ve had a pack, or not. All of that means nothing, the Thin Man is adult now, and does not understand cardinal laws about the world. He goes where he wants, does whatever he wants, whenever he wants. The man in the hat has no fears. It’s possible he likes keeping Mono because Mono is a strange child with no friends, and Mono couldn't help but chase the Thin Man.

Or could be the Thin Man thought Mono was funny child. Not a good kind of funny, but a mean kind. Like with the feather. Mono was funny and sometimes that made the Thin Man happy, but that didn't make Mono happy. The man in the hat liked the few things about Mono that were same, but that was the extent of Mono's frail grasp. So little about company he could get the knack of, the Thin Man always changed the rules. Then again, the Thin Man didn't quite want Mono to begin with; he barely seemed to accept that Mono was.

The thought was always there, like needing to find foods. Ever present in his mind, nagging when he lost sight of the tall thin man. When the man in the hat left for the fabled "danger-ouse places". This wasn't going to last, and Mono was always nervous when the Thin Man became displeased with his doings.

“Don’t go there.” “You need sleep.” “Not there, child.” “Where are you?” “How did you manage that?” “Spit that out." "No.” “That is a danger.” “I don’t need that.” “No.” “Stop!” “Stay.” “C̷̥͠o̶̜͑m̷̥͗ë̴̬́ ̴͙̂H̶̞͠ȅ̴͓r̵̲̃ḙ̵̓,̸̳̃ ̶͎̅B̴̠̀o̶͈̾y̶͖͘.̸̯̓”

Adults. They get mad at the weirdest things. Like now, Mono was uncertain where the Thin Man was inside the whole building they were exploring. The tall thin man was put off about... something or another, and before Mono could collect his wits (after the bad fall) the man in the hat had already faded in a flashy crackle. No sign or indication where he went. As such, Mono began wandering through the twisting corridors, and sneaking around the rundown rooms barely holding together; mind set on food things while his senses remained on full alert.

The Thin Man seemed more broody than the adults normal, and inclined the quiet, dark glare onto Mono a few times. He wasn’t sure what he wanted, what the tall thin man searched for. It had been some while since Mono saw a smile; not while they strolled through the dismal roads, or broken walls into washed out building interiors. They wandered some long while, the tall thin man might be tired like Mono was. Even if lie and said he wasn't to rest, Mono knew better. The dream haunts got the better of him, despite Mono's best efforts. The Thin Man did not do a good job of look after himself.

If he could find something interesting, the Thin Man would tell him about it. Maybe. Some things he didn’t like to tell Mono about, but other times Mono could find him a new thing. An interesting thing, which the Thin Man would just tell him all about. Sometimes use the big speek, and Mono would be lost in the rumbling buzz. But it was a good sort of lost.

That task was hard yet. Not much interested the Thin Man. He liked his game, and Mono was glad not to be alone. They both got something from the company. A win.

Dull vibrations pulsed in the back of his thoughts, demanding Mono pry his focus from the window, with the children so far away. He dropped off the sill and hurried across the decrepit room, aimed for one doorway wherein the already challenged radiance flashed and dimmed. In short time he reached the portal, right when the figure bent shuffled into the room.

“Did you get to eat?” The man in the hat stood straight and rubbed at his back.

Mono rubbed at his own back. When the Thin Man gave him a look, he stopped the motion and shook his head. He showed his empty hands and frowned. If there had been food, the Thin Man would’ve gotten something too.

With a rustling sigh, the Thin Man resumed his listless stride. To his relief, the man in the hat dismissed the window, and in a distorted flicker, abandoned the room entirely. Before the bulbs winked out in the ceiling, Mono made haste to reach the connecting passage. Soon, he would only have the delicate rap of the Thin Man's heels to offer direction. If the wiring didn't work or fizzled out completely due to the Thin Man's presence, he really had to rely on his hearing and the feel of the air. Mono fancied he was becoming pro at that, regardless the frequent bump or stumble over obscure junk.

The prolonged search resulted in no meaningful results, nothing worthwhile - aside from more of the same rot, the typical invasion of insects chewing through whatever couldn't crawl away. Mono plucked at the edge of his choice hat, trying to pretend his stomach wasn't growling about the injustice of all this. For the life of him, he couldn't remember what it was that he last ate. Let alone when. It wasn't important, but it annoyed him thinking he'd gone so long without something.

Probably why he couldn't stop chewing on his fingers.

"Don't do that. Get your hand away from your mouth."

When the Thin Man leaned through the next doorway, Mono stalled long enough to stick his tongue at the hunched figure. He didn't want to chew on the bandage, the wrapping was set cozy and right, and neat. A good sum of time elapsed since his last incident, best not to get the Thin Man all riled up over minor hurts. Mono wanted to avoid another episode.

By the ground level of the building, the two returned to the endless storms via a collapsed portion of wall. Thankfully, the Thin Man ventured through roads that lay open and mostly whole, fluttering as a wispy shadow among chunks of ruble evicted off the warped high-rises. The man in the hat's travel was never restricted, not like Mono was. A chasm wasn’t a frightening void to the tall thin man; he could blink out and appear on the other side. For Mono in his unrefined capacity, he always had to search out a way across. And FAST. The tall thin man wasn't prone to wait or call.

Sometimes, the man in the hat did offer to carry Mono, but Mono was frightened by the idea and shied away from the offered hand. What if he was dropped or fell, or any number of things? Mono liked to have something solid under his feet, or in his grasp. The Thin Man was always dissatisfied with the response, but it was a rare time when he didn’t grab Mono. They could always search for another way. The city sprawling held no shortage of paths or crevices, ladders or suspicious braided blanket ropes dangling. Mono was a crafty boy - if he was permitted the time, he would find a clever route. All while ignoring the Thin Man's baleful glower. Like the tall thin man, Mono didn't need anybody. He could go anywhere on his own.

It is a very long excursion of the city roads, twisted alleys, roving within the buckling walls of splintered skyscrapers crumbling brick by brick. None of the rooms of the many locations offered anything, aside from maybe a new child's hat or intriguing artifact. The rain prattled constantly, sometimes low roads are swamped by the converging 'rivers'. In some durations the travel is intense, but Mono is never dissuaded. Nothing would stop him. The Thin Man sought cached passages through the ruble of buildings, or utilized the televisions to reach a whole other section of the city. The Thin Man was always first, only because he isn’t a television serial murderer.

Mono tried to catch himself when he flew out. The television is atop a low table and he tumbled, nearly breaking his wrist. The Thin Man is already moving, and Mono doesn't waste a second to catch up. The building isn’t in that bad of shape, compared to those they passed through from the other side of the screen. The walls at least look whole in this room, and it’s much warmer, not so damp or drafty. Maybe shelter here? The man in the hat always decided.

The Thin Man opened a door, which led into a large corridor with branching archways and impervious shade beyond each. Flashing and glitching the tall figure reappeared, bypassing the first two entries. In his wake, Mono emerged from the doorway, straying near the wall. When he didn't follow immediately, the Thin Man stopped and looked back.

Mono idled along the wall trailing the peeling wallpaper with his hand, ever cautious when peering into the first open portal he passed. As suspected, perpetual depths greeted his eyes. He angled his gaze up and up at the stony silhouette, his current hat hiding most of his face. With barely a click in his step, the Thin Man pivoted and resumed his elected course. While Mono ducked into the next doorway, down a flight of steps and toward another corridor barely perceivable, if not for the bulb framing the walls with a gray haze. Not long, he would be back. The man in the hat wouldn't miss him.

The jingle from televisions carried along the enclosed stairwell, all the while Mono stumbled. Beyond the depressed gleam of radiance, more doors and maybe another passage further along. An intermix jabber of voices stacked in conversation, rambling speek with no meaning, and other melodies crooned out. Among the cacophony of swirled sounds, a Viewer burbled at the television it gaped at.

Most the doors he couldn't bother with, even if he was confident to shift through the wood panel, Mono still preferred to conserve his energy. He couldn't be certain if he would have the vigor to pop back through, given how famished he was. It limited his search, but the scout wouldn't go far if he got stranded somewhere. Much of his searching was reserved for bare-open dwellings, and likely areas long abandoned and long looted of worthwhile treats. If a residency appeared quiet and the door could be opened, he’d invite himself in. Foremost, he kept a lookout for foods, but he didn’t want to get distracted.

The self-imposed quest was mostly focused in the rooms with beds and dressers, not the kitchens - not yet. The rooms would harbor castoff things from a world abandoned, a world detached from the one he knew so well. On top of dressers or on nightstands, he might locate something he’d never seen before. However, many of the trinkets couldn’t hold his interest or didn’t reveal enough upon first examination, to really spur the risk to haul it to the Thin Man. He wanted to find another one of the bulb things with the toy inside, since that seemed interesting for a try.

In the big living room of one residence, he did find a remote! Something he’d searched for endlessly, especially now since lone televisions seemed prone to shut off while the Thin Man was around. The Thin Man didn’t like Mono looking at the devices, unless he was watched. Bleh.

Also lingering around was a Viewer, plastered to the television and gurgling. Needing a break from all the pointless wandering, Mono perched on a tall desk table and hit the switch, causing the television to blink out. This of course, annoyed the Viewer. With a shriek it swung around and searched for the source of this outrage. How DARE! Before it could lock onto him, near invisible in the shadows, Mono would give it back its stupid television. He just wanted to have a little fun for a bit, no harm.

This went on and on, the Viewer wailing each time the television powered off, Mono seeing how far he was willing to let it get without the willies getting to him. The nice thing about Viewers was the predictability, despite how obsessed they were. And creepy. As long as he had the remote, everything would be fine-

Unless the controller switch stopped… working. Right when he shut the thing off, and the Viewer had gotten a few paces too many away from its precious entertainment box.

Yeah it was a really dumb game, but he’d not had fun like that in a while. At least he had a head start, racing out of the room and shooting down into a crawlspace beneath the floorboards of one room. He really mourned the loss of the remote, he could have used that later.

The lower floors still held together mostly, which meant he should be extra careful while exploring around. There wouldn’t be openings or breaks he could dive into if trouble reared up, but he wasn’t seeing too many of the Viewers either, despite the singing televisions. He was also a little lost, creeping from one dwelling to the next, all the corridors felt the same despite erosion in the surface and carpet. He was thinking it would be a good time to try retracing his steps, before he became too lost. He was sure the upper floors could be reached, even without the stairwell – planks of wood in the crumbling wall or anything, if he searched hard enough.

In one of the smaller rooms he did a last search of, he encountered some child standing off to the side. Their presence startled him so much, and they looked just about as terrified by his intrusion, he back peddled and floundered over his own feet. He snatched up his hat and managed to lurch into a run, shooting through the break in the lower portion of the door and fleeing down the winding hall.

Only to freeze up when the Thin Man dipped under the threshold leading into the very corridor he was in. For lack of direction, Mono swayed back and forth.

“Hey.”

The Thin Man gave him a look, intense eyes glittering beneath the bill of his hat. He was chewing on one of those burn sticks.

“What is it? Stumble onto a hazard?” he posed.

Mono tipped his head, unsure how to go about this. “N’t good. No safe.” And then he stood there like a dolt, trying to hide his eyes a bit beneath the lip of his hat. “Foods?” He began to panic internally, when the Thin Man approached. Not looking at him, but glaring at the broken door just behind him.

“No! NoNoNoNo!” He tried to get in the tall figures way, but the man in the hat just stepped over him. A soured ache formed in his gut, he wanted to stop the Thin Man but also could see himself getting knocked aside or hurt if he was more careless. “No! No!”

“For the last time, there is nothing to fear while in my presence,” he grumbled. “I won't tolerate this. Wait there!” With a snap of his wrist the door creaked open, and in a deep bow the man in the hat vanished, winking out in a distorted shadow. A long and eerie pause followed.

Mono pressed his hands over his eyes and backed away. What did he do to children that were not Mono? Some sleeps the phantom screech She made woke him up. He never heard her do speek like that. A sad little shadow. He didn’t want to hear anyone else scream like that. He wanted to stop the Thin Man, but he was afraid! A cowered! He kept backing away from the void that now existed beyond the doorway. Sorry! He was sorry! He ran away! He tried....

“Mono.” The Thin Man called, from within. Sounding distant and haunting. “Come here.”

“What!” he challenged, without a thought. What did the Thin Man want to show him? Did he plan to make an example of the child? Or, did they escape? He hoped they got out.

Once more, the Thin Man beckoned. “Come here. Now.” When Mono failed to inspire his legs into moving, the Thin Man provided ample motivation. “Î̸̪̜̐̚ ̶͎̲̘̊̆̈́̎̊̊W̶̨̙͓͂̓̽͝i̵͓͖̖̰̞̒͛́̽͜͝l̶͎͚̼͙̐̋̅̿͝l̶̩͇̯̱̋ ̴͈̰̺̑̈́͜Ṅ̷̛̬̜͑̾̕͠o̷̫̭͗̃̅͆̕͝t̷̗͎͖̏̿̉ ̷̱̫̜̠̎̇̈̂̕Č̵͍͚̒̏̌̋a̴̦̤̙̹͌̔̆̆͒͝l̷̩͖͈̈́̐͒l̸͙͚͖̤̫̮̈̍͒͠ ̴͕̗̩͓̳̟̕ Ȁ̸͎̜̫͍̫̠̆̽g̷͇̙͋a̶̢̯̻̋̉i̴̗̣̭̩̒͊́̚ṅ̴̮͉̿̓͘͠.”

He shuffled towards the doorway, gut tightening the closer he moved to the gaping entry. What was waiting? Would the Thin Man have the child in his grip, struggling and terrified by his uncertain fate? Or would the other kid be cringing in a corner, white with terror? If the man in the hat wanted him to do... something, he would flee. He would!

When Mono finally inched his way hrough the threshold, his eyes locked immediately on the towering figure standing by the wall. A little flutter of relief swirled in his chest, upon spying both of the long arms crossed over the narrow chest. That relief almost popped, when the Thin Man settled his gaze on him. He tugged the sides of his hat down around his face.

“There’s no need to be frightened,” he crackled. “It was only your reflection.”

Baffled, Mono shifted his gaze aside and searched. Reflection? He nearly jolted backwards when he spied the child again, instead, this time he stumbled. What was that! The other child appeared flabbergasted as well as lost. What was this?! No, wait… they were wearing his hat. That was His HAT!

He kept his distance, glaring. The other child followed his lead. Perfectly mimed. This was very confusing and disconcerting, to have a someone imitate him so perfectly. Something was wrong here.

“You’ve never seen a real mirror before, have you?” He felt like the Thin Man was mocking him again. Before he realized anything is afoot, he’s being pressed forward by a hand. “It won’t hurt you. Have a look.”

“No….” Mono tugged the hat down fully over his face, but couldn’t get away from the grasp insisting he address this other fake Mono. He dug his toes into the dirty carpet trying to press back, until the forceful hand withdrew. He collected himself and tugged his hat up, fully prepared to retreat… but he was nearly at the doppelganger. Could make out the color of his coat, the details of his hat, his very dour and annoyed expression.

It was like staring into a window, and someone you’ve never seen before looked back. But he knew them from somewhere. The surface was a bit dusty, the edges tinged with corrosion, but for the most part the window was intact. They were separated. He crept in closer and closer, teetering on the fringe of flight. The closer he moved, the more defined and clear the outlines of the other child became in the dull light.

Reaching out cautiously, his palm slapped the cold barrier. Solid. He gazed at the other face gawking back, and very slowly reached up. The copy mimicked faithfully, as he pushed the hat off his head. He tried to recall a time when he had viewed himself in such utter clarity, but had nothing. Unless to check for an injury or something, seeking a reflective surface was redundant. Finding a surface that offered anything but distorted complexions, was something else entirely. He never really stopped to look at himself, take in the face the world hated.

“It’s you,” the Thin Man rumbled.

“T’s me. Aam Mono,” he hummed. Tentatively, he reached up and touched at his hair, pushed it one way then parted it the other, ruffled the clumpy strands. He tugged at his ears, studying the curls and overall form. Then, mushed at his cheeks and tugged at his lips, made some faces. So that’s what those looked like. He had to look at his teeth, see the crazy gap the missing tooth made. Neat! The spot in his gum looked ugly but didn't hurt. He twirled around, admiring the fantastic coat and all its stitch work. The collar was bent, so he fixed that. Overall, he was a very good looking Mono.

A little higher in the window surface, he could observe the Thin Man. Smiling.

“Come? Look.” He leaned away from the glossy pane, peering up at the man in the hat. Who was no longer smiling.

“No. I’d rather not… tarnish the reflection.”

Mono returned his attention to the mirror Mono and looked aside. This didn’t count as anything that would make the Thin Man happy. He sat for a moment and nibbled his fingers, having a think. He was… already bored with the mirror, too. The novelty wore off before he knew it. He was still Mono, the world still hated him. The mirror couldn't tell him why. But....

“Same,” he murmured. Touching his cheek. “N’same.” He turned to the Thin Man and curled his fingers around his eyes. He offered a smile.

“That we do.”

The response kind of caught Mono. But the man in the hat knew everything already, and then didn’t say. “Reason?”

The Thin Man exhaled a thread of smoke. And shrugged. Otherwise, no explanation or insight was given. Not even an excuse.

“See… n’me you?”

Another sigh, but the Thin Man sighed wouldn’t look at Mono. “Saw some of me, in you.”

“Oh.” He was glad there wasn’t a child in this room. This wasn’t much better, but at least no one else got hurt. He tugged at a thread in the roll of his pant leg. “Tell story?” He is a little disappointed when the Thin Man turned away and bent under the doorframe.

“No, this is not the time nor place for silly stories.”

Mono snapped up his hat and climbed to his feet, rushing after the gradually retreating figure. “But story?” He hastened his pace to stay beside the Thin Man, bouncing or skipping between every two or three steps.

“You won’t like the story, I can tell you that. One day though, it will be your story, and it will hurt.” A trail of smoke left his lips.

Hurt? So many queries blossomed within his thoughts. Was there a fix? A way to stop hurt? The Thin Man knew, but couldn't fix. Though maybe....

“But… same, be'fer t'hide. And t'flee. Then you, w’th me. Do t's together....” The Thin Man ceased walking and gave him a full on glare. Mono staggered sideways, halting his panicked speek. This wasn’t good. Asking questions wouldn’t work, and the Thin Man didn’t like repeating himself.

“M’sorry,” Mono mumbled, smothering his words. The man in the hat didn't like the S speek. “Rr’sad? N’yu not say, f'hurt?” He inched closer to the Thin Man’s shoes and raised his arms. If he wanted to, the Thin Man could hold him. Getting snared or clutched frightened him, the mood of the tall thin man was always strange and mystery, Mono never really knew what might happen. But it might make the man in the hat feel better. That too was an unknown.

Instead, the Thin Man bent over and ruffled his hair. “Never mind that. Let’s move along, I do not believe there will be much food in this place.”

Mono is still put off by the dismissiveness, but he shouldn’t have pushed. He wanted answers, but the Thin Man wasn’t happy in speek about those sort of tricky topics. He liked explaining other boring trivial pieces, but not when it came to the important questions. Her. The Tower. Other children. Sad little shadows. The bits and pieces of a different world, with different pictures, and different meanings. It could be like dream haunts, it was taboo to ask friends about them. That seemed like a valid reason, despite how it burned up in Mono to know more, anything. So much same in Mono, but wouldn't utter why. Could other children... be....

The tall figure renewed his fluid stride, exhaling a stream of vapor as he went. Mono plopped his hat on and followed, as usual. In silence, as typical. Questions hovered in his mind but for now he would stash them aside, until a safer time. Perhaps when they settled in a calm and good area, then the tall thin man would want to do share speek. Could be interested if Mono copied picture speek from a book, and made a different sort of book? That seemed like a fun idea, and then, he could show the Thin Man how to make it work. Even if the Thin Man knew everything already, it would be happy to pretend he found something new for the Thin Man.

The Thin Man maybe only kept Mono because of all the same. Too much of the same, or maybe not enough. He couldn’t really figure out anything of why, the man in the hat did what he did. All of anything he did, was for himself. Yet, he made Mono a part of that, and that was okay. No one else wanted Mono.

He thought though, that the Thin Man’s lip twitched. He wasn’t sure what he did, but it faded the more he persisted with queries. Mono asked the hard questions, the ones that made the man in the hat dig for something... else. A place where the answers lay, beneath the questions, shrouded by the purpose of doing a something. The Thin Man didn't like giving answers or reasons, because like dream haunts, he had to find where the answers came from. The Thin Man was a strange and troubled adult, brimming with dark thoughts alongside the difficult unknowns. Adults would always be hostile and angered by anything that didn't belong, but the Thin Man wasn't like that. He was mostly just grumpy.

#little nightmares #mono #the thin man #thin dad #little nightmares fanfic #little nightmares fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #mono nearly failed the mirror test #hes never see an HD mono before

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thelionbyname · 4 years ago

Text

Together We Are One (prequel part 5)

(This has kind of evolved from a fanfiction into its own story, but eh, enjoy!)

“Hey Impulse! What’s going on? Little Tango called and said you wanted me to come.” A friendly voice drifted through the house, preceding its owner: another old man, but one who still had streaks of blond hair visible between the grey strands. This man walked in slightly bent over, not because of age, but because a very small girl was clinging onto his index finger. Together, they walked over to the center of the room, where a gathering of sorts seemed to be taking place. Four toddlers were sitting on the ground, facing the old man with the dirty shirt: Impulse.

Impulse looked up at the newcomers and replied, “Zed! Yeah, well... I think it’s time to tell them, and I thought it would be easier for both of us if we did it together.”

Whatever Zed had been expecting, this wasn’t it. It seemed Impulse had uncovered some memories he had tried to suppress. His eyes were suddenly filled with pain, pain that had not been there the first time, that now crashed back like a boomerang; only temporarily disposed of. He dove head first into the rabbit hole of memories that, despite having been in a hidden corner of his mind for thirty years, were clear as day, made fresh through the pain that stained them.

“Gwampa, what’s wong?” The innocent voice of the small child pulled him out of his whirlwind of thoughts, and Zed was suddenly aware of the girl gently tugging his finger.

“I’m okay, Tekkie. Go sit down.” And to Impulse, he said, “Yeah… I guess it is.”

The little girl, Tekkie, her grandpa’s troubles already forgotten, ran over to sit next to Tango and held his hand. Her soft fingers, which had not yet lost their baby fat, easily wove through his, and were clearly very comfortable doing so. He grinned at her, and she flashed a dimpled smile back. Then they turned their heads to face their grandpas.

Zed had taken a seat in the chair normally occupied by Impulse’s wife. He automatically reached for his friend’s hand in comfort, but he didn’t know if he was comforting Impulse or himself.

And in this position, hand in hand, they started.

Though there was still pain, it was a relief to talk about it, together. It was mostly Impulse talking, because he had spent his entire life dwelling on this, analysing every mistake, remembering every thought. Every time he paused for breath, however, Zedaph continued, contributing his own perspective.

The five toddlers listened intently to the most epic tale they had ever heard. They were very good listeners, gasping at the right time, whimpering when a character died, never interrupting. Only the oldest, Tango, was aware that this was all real, not just some story.

When their grandpas got to the part where little Tango’s namesake disappeared, they could not continue. Zedaph let out a sob.

Little Tango didn’t make them continue; for a five-year-old, he was very emotion-sensitive and seemed to know exactly when it was too much. Instead, he asked them, “Did they ever come back?” though he already knew the answer.

Impulse fought to hold back tears, and choked out, “No… they never came back.”

At the same time, in another world...

“Screwdriver.”

“This one? Here you go.”

“Wrench.”

“You could ask politely.”

With the sound of metal rolling over concrete, a man emerged from beneath a complicated-looking machine. He lay on a skateboard he was using as a car creeper, and his face was smeared with oil and what looked like rust. The man blew his moustache away from his mouth with a sigh of exasperation. “For efficiency reasons I find it easier to name what I need, rather than go ‘Tango, could you hand me that drill over there?’ every time.”

“At least say please?” Tango replied.

Mumbo rolled his eyes and disappeared under the machine again. For a moment there was no sound except the steady tap, tap, tap, of a hammer, but then Mumbo spoke again. “Bolt, please.”

Grinning, Tango handed one to him and replied “That’s more like it.” He heard a sigh come out from under the machine, but he could tell Mumbo was smiling. Tango turned when he heard footsteps approaching them. Suddenly, he stood face to face with Xisuma. “Gah! You startled me, X!”

X chuckled and looked down to where Mumbo’s hair was visible. “Nearly done, Mumbo? I have something to tell you guys”

“Almost.” Mumbo sounded like he had his tongue between his teeth in concentration. There was the low buzzing of a drill, and then Mumbo rolled out from beneath the machine again. “There! It’s finished! Phew… I’ve been working on that for weeks!”

“Amazing! So now all Tango has to do is program it.”

“Yes. That’ll be done within a few minutes. But you said you had to tell us something, X?” Tango reminded him.

“Yeah. Could you follow me to the meeting room? Falsie, Grian, and Keralis are waiting for us.”

The three of them walked into the next room, where indeed there were three other people sitting around a table, playing cards. False, Grian and Keralis looked up as they entered. They looked expectantly at Mumbo, who answered the question in their minds. “It’s done,” he said, with a hint of pride in his voice. They cheered, and Grian gave Mumbo a high-five. Sort of, because since he was sitting and Mumbo was super tall, Mumbo had to give a low five to Grian’s high five.

Xisuma walks carefully past a wall covered in weapons and over to a mobile whiteboard. He turned to face the rest, who had all sat down and were patiently waiting.

“I have some rather depressing news. Every day, I walk out of my apartment and meet my neighbor, who leaves at the same time. When I first moved in three years ago and met her for the first time, she was cradling a baby of perhaps four months old. Last week, when I saw her, she was holding that same baby. Then I realised, over the course of three years, that baby had not aged at all. I see them every single morning, yet I had not registered this until last week.

“So naturally, I decided to get to the bottom of it. I found pictures of us from when we had just arrived in this dimension, and saw that none of us have changed at all either. Of course, that doesn’t say much, because adults simply don’t change much over a mere three years, which is probably why we didn’t notice before.” He paused for breath, and Grian spoke.

“So, we don’t age. Is that really such a bad thing?” He grinned.

Xisuma didn’t smile. He looked at Grian sadly, and Grian’s smile vanished. “I wasn’t done. While I was trying to find out exactly what was going on, I found some other information. I asked Tango to hack into NASA for me-”

“So that’s what that was for!” Tango interrupted. Then, catching Xisuma’s eye, “Sorry.”

“NASA managed to do quite a bit of research on the time machine before we stole it. It is a miracle that Mumbo was able to fix it, when some of the best scientists in this world couldn’t. But the point is, I found some things. We previously thought that the black hole sent us to another dimension. We were wrong. We are on the same earth, but in a different timeline.”

This revelation was followed by shocked and comprehending gasps from those listening.

Xisuma nodded absent mindedly, and continued. “Black holes warp time. This explains why we don’t age. Time flows differently here. We didn’t go through the black hole, we are inside it. It doesn’t just freeze all organic matter into one state, it slows time as we experience it. For us it feels like we have been here for three years, but back home in the other timeline, it has been ten times as long. So for the other hermits, we have been gone for three decades. They probably think we’re all dead.”

This time there were pained gasps. Remorse transformed each of their features as they realised how their friends must feel.

“But it’s not all bad. Our original plan to get back was to use the time machine to travel across dimensions, but now that we know that doesn’t apply, I made some adjustments. We need to travel through time. We know the risks of messing with the past, but it is the only way to get back. You see,” He paused and started drawing on the whiteboard. He drew a straight line from left to right, and then split the line at the end so it resulted in a rotated Y of sorts. “This is what the timeline would look like, were it possible to visualise it. This,” he gestured to the bottom of the Y, “ is when we were all still back home. And here,” he pointed at the intersection, where all the lines came together, “is where we went into the black hole. We went to one timeline, while the other Hermits continued on the other. So the only way to go back to them is to take the time machine back to before we went into the black hole, because any time after that, we would still be in this timeline.” Xisuma looked around to see if they understood. It looked like some were still processing all the information, but there was only as much confusion as what was to be expected.

False spoke up. “That means that when we go back and change the past, we erase all the suffering we caused them, and their entire timeline,” she stood up and walked to the board, “will vanish.” she wiped away one of the split-off lines.

“Exactly,” Xisuma nodded. “We need to stay hidden until our past selves have gone into the black hole, because otherwise we could seriously mess up the past. This means that we have to stay far away, because past Tango or past Cleo could sense our presence.”

At this, Tango’s eyes widened. “That’s right! I used to have telepathy! I had entirely forgotten about that…” His eyes glazed over for a second, clearly seeing things the rest could not. Xisuma’s smooth British voice brought him back to the present.

“Right, yeah. I found information about that during my deep dive into NASA’s archive, too. NASA has two theories; the first being that the black hole runs on a different frequency, one that is not compatible with magic. The magic is still in the air somewhere, but humans can’t access it. The second theory is that magic is entirely dead here, because the vortex is too powerful, and magic simply can’t survive.”

They all sat and stared blankly, remembering a better time, when they were above the regular laws of humanity. They never knew why their powers had ceased to exist when they regained consciousness after being thrown around the void, until now. At least, a theory as to why. As they thought back to when they were more than human, the homesickness was suddenly overwhelming. From one moment to the next, they were all desperate to go home. It had always remained their home, all three years they had spent elsewhere. It had never felt truly theirs here.

Tango cleared his throat, which suddenly had a lump in it, and said, “I say we leave as soon as possible. I’m going to go program the time machine so it’s ready to go.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, some wiping the silent tears from their cheeks. Tango speed walked into the room with the time machine; he couldn’t get there fast enough.

Once he disappeared past the door frame, Keralis spoke for the first time that evening. “I agree with Tango. Let’s go home. Today. Anyone have things in their apartments they want to bring to the past?” He looked around, studying each face individually. He realised he hadn’t really seen them since coming here, to this new world. He knew he would only see the ghost of his past life.

“Nah, but I do want to keep these cool suits,” Mumbo said, gesturing to the six spy outfits on display in glass cases along the wall behind him.

“I second that. I just want to go home,” Grian concurs.

Within a few minutes, as Tango had promised, the time machine was ready for departure. Somehow they all managed to squeeze into the machine designed to transport one person.

With effort, Xisuma got enough oxygen to say, “Tango, you did program this properly, right? You were in quite a rush.”

“Yes, X. Have some faith in my abilities, please.” Tango rolled his eyes. “Ready? Here we go!” he pulled a large lever- with difficulty- and they vanished in a bright flash.

* * *

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanfiction #Tangotek #tango tek #Xisuma #Xisumavoid #Falsesymmetry #False symmetry #MumboJumbo #Mumbo jumbo #Grian #Zombiecleo #Keralis #Keralis1 #Impulsesv #Zedaph #Zedaph plays #Zedaphplays

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floralseokjin · 5 years ago

Text

;decalcomania 1. (m)

no matter how hard you both try, the past will never return

pairing; jeon jungkook x reader genre/warnings; angst, mature content, cheating mentions, vomit mentions words; 2,669

part 2 found here

He was torn. To close his eyes and try his best to lose himself in the past, where you were both so happy and content, so in love that the world could never hurt you, or to keep his eyes open, savouring your beauty. The way your eyelashes cast downwards, painting shadows across your cheekbones in the dim lighting. The way your mouth parted, pleasure etching its way across the rest of your face as you moaned softly. Quietly. Like you didn’t want to give all of yourself to him. Not anymore.

You had once upon a time. He was the one you trusted the most. The one who had always been there for you. Loved you unconditionally. The one who would never hurt you.

He’d ruined that the night he’d fallen into another’s bed.

It was a miracle you still wanted him after such a betrayal. But you did. Forgiveness was a work in progress. Had been for so long now, and as the weeks dragged into months, he was beginning to think it was impossible. He didn’t blame you. He hadn’t forgiven himself yet. He didn’t think he ever would.

But it was easy to kid himself when you reached for him in the dead of night. Wrapping your arms around him, lips hesitant but in need against his. Sick of the gap between the both of you. The cold sheets. The silence. You were hungry for some love. The love he’d ruined. Because even though you were finding everything so difficult, and rightfully so, you still craved him badly. He was all you’d ever known after all. Likewise, until he’d fucked it all up.

Each time he had you like this, spread so beautifully and under him, it always felt like it was the last time. Like he had to prepare himself for the inevitable. For the end.

It never was.

You were both too weak to let go. You, because you thought you needed him, and him, because he was selfish.

He chose to keep his eyes open. Only because yours were closed tight. You were lost in the past for the both of you, hanging on for dear life. That, and he knew you couldn’t dare look at him when you were like this. He didn’t know what you saw, but he could guess. Visions of him with someone else. He didn’t know what you felt, but he could guess.

And he hated himself.

He hated himself for fucking up your life.

It hadn’t always been like this. You’d been happy for a long time, young and in love. But like everyone, age caught up with you both, and with age came change. Jungkook hated to admit it, even now, after everything, but he wasn’t who he used to be. That was where all your troubles began. Where it all went wrong.

One argument. Brewing for God knows how long, about how he’d changed. Work had skewed his mind, that’s what you’d said. He’d lost himself along the way. He wasn’t the Jungkook you knew, and you wanted him back. He was stubborn, always had been, so he’d venomously denied it. He’d shouted. He’d slammed his fists against counters and thrown things. If he had changed then so had you. He wasn’t solely to blame, and he wouldn’t let you turn it all on him.

Looking back, he knew he had been wrong. He was deflecting. Scared and hurt. You hadn’t changed at all. Not even one little bit. But maybe that was the problem. You were both moving in different directions but still tied so tightly together. Unable and unwilling to cut the cord loose.

That evening he’d watched you throw his things into trash bags, hearing the same words over and over again. It’s over. It’s over. It’s over. He still heard them four hours later, the bags at Jimin’s place while he sat in a shitty bar somewhere. Alone, seething and heartbroken. He got drunk to the rhythm, it’s over, ordering one drink after the other. In the midst of it all he saw a woman making eyes at him from across the room. It was obvious what she wanted. He probably reeked of self pity, wallowing in his sorrows, glass after glass. Some people got off on that.

She made her way over and listened to him. It was nice talking to a stranger. Someone who wasn’t biased. Someone who didn’t know you. He called you a bitch at some point. He remembered that vividly. The rest he’d tried to block out. The woman had been nice to him, rubbed his shoulder as she comforted him, stroked his arm, squeezed his leg. She’d told him all the things he’d needed to hear. To make himself feel better. About how you didn’t deserve him and how much this seemed like an excuse to ease your own guilt for not loving him anymore. That tore at his heart. He hadn’t realised you might not love him anymore. He wondered how long you could have possibly felt like that. You seemed selfish, that’s what she had said, but that couldn’t be right. He was the selfish one, always had been, and definitely right now.

He’d let the woman kiss him, whisper things in his ear that got his dick hard. It made him sick to try and remember, but that’s what had happened. That’s how he’d found his way into her bed, repeating the same words in his head as he stripped and fucked the stranger. You didn’t want him anymore. It was over. You didn’t love him.

The guilt ate him up as soon as he woke up in the early hours of the next morning. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, not quite making it to Jimin’s place as he threw up in an alleyway a block away. He couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or revulsion at himself. It just kept coming, heave after heave, even when the contents of his stomach had been stripped. Memories of last night warping their way behind his eyes as he clenched them tight. It was clear then.

It was a deep self loathing that made him spill his guts.

When his phone buzzed in his pocket, he ripped it out, seeing your name. His heart dropped when he read the messages. About how you couldn’t sleep at all last night without him there, about how much you regretted what you’d said and how you couldn’t let him go like that. You loved him too much, and you wanted to try and make things work, if he would let it. You were just so damn sorry.

It made him heave again, a fresh sickness spreading, even though there was only sour, yellow bile left.

Jimin had heard him rush through the apartment, calling out to him, wondering where he’d been and assuming it was back home, making up with you. One look at Jungkook dismantled that. He had no choice but to confess, beside himself, and Jimin listened in horror, unable to understand why he would do such a thing. One thing was for certain though, he needed to tell you. He knew that even before Jimin demanded him to. If he wanted to try to salvage this, he needed to confess. The thought made him feel sick, but he knew if he didn’t, he would never be able to live with himself. He didn’t think he could live with it even after confessing…

He’d showered in scalding hot water, until his skin was red and sensitive, desperate to wash off his sin, yet it didn’t feel enough. He was still dirty. He was still a cheat.

You’d looked relieved when he’d turned up at the door, clutching him, whispering desperately about how sorry you were. He wanted more than anything to be able to reassure you it didn’t matter. To hold you tight and promise things would go back to how they were. But he couldn’t. It was a lie. You had nothing to be sorry about, while he had everything, weighing down on his heart, his body.

He would never forget the look on your face as he told you. The floor disappeared from under your feet, and you looked like you might pass out. First there was a shocked silence, denial following soon after. Then the anger consumed you. You’d shouted at him, screamed at him, until your throat was raw. The hate in your eyes almost made him cower. You demanded he gave you all the nasty, sordid details. He tried to fight, he tried to beg, but it was to no use. You wanted to know everything, and he had to fight through the haziness and his shame to recall the night previous. You listened silently, no expression on your face, eyes dead. He tried desperately to emphasise how much he hadn’t enjoyed it, but you had just sneered at him. He knew it was all just excuses. Nothing could change. He had done it. He couldn’t take it back.

Finally, you cried. You cried so hard it brought you to your knees, took your breath away. He had ruined your life in a few simple words. He remembered how helpless he’d felt. Unable to comfort you because he was the reason for your misery. He’d spent so long protecting and cherishing you and now this is what he had done. All because his pride had been bashed. All because he was selfish. All because he was a fool.

You cried until no more tears would come. Rough sobs continued to rattle your chest, tore at your throat, but with a strength he found admirable, you were finally able to compose yourself. It could have been minutes, hours, his head was too much of a mess to judge time. You looked him dead in the eyes and told him you hated him. He was the person you trusted most in this world and he’d betrayed you. He was the one you’d loved for so long, but he was the one who had hurt you so easily, without a second thought.

He tried to hold you. He tried to make you see how sorry he was, but you wouldn’t listen. He’d wanted you to so badly listen. Instead, you screamed at him to get out, and he couldn’t bear it.

He’d finally broken down. He’d sobbed, falling to his knees as you stood before him. Wrapped his arms around your legs and hugged himself to you like a scared little child. He was so scared. The reality of losing you was too much to stand. You were his life. He was nothing without you. He needed you to believe that, but now you no longer trusted anything that came out of his mouth. You were unemotional as you watched on, not an ounce of sympathy on your face. Not that he deserved it. He knew that.

So, he had no choice but to listen. To leave, dazed and distraught, aimlessly walking around town like he was lost until he somehow found his way back to Jimin’s apartment.

But like he’d said, he was selfish. He couldn’t leave it like that. He could make everything right again, make it better. He knew it.

Each day he tried to contact you. For the first week you didn’t pick up his calls, ignored his voice messages and his texts, but he didn’t give up. He just tried harder. When he finally heard your voice again, he broke down once more, plea forgotten for a moment. To his surprise you seemed moved by his reaction, voice almost gentle, just like it had always been. He didn’t deserve it. You asked him to talk about anything. Anything and everything that wasn’t about what he’d done. You just wanted to pretend for a little while. Pretend he was away for work and you were catching up.

He could do that for you. He could do anything.

Pretending came easy at first. He was just so thankful. But you’d been doing it for months now and it wasn’t getting any better. Instead of acknowledging his betrayal and trying to work past it, you’d both ignored it completely. He’d let it happen because he was a coward, just so, so happy you were giving him a chance. Slowly letting him back into your life, back into your house, and back into your bed.

Only there was something missing.

You weren’t letting him back into your heart. He had tried so hard, he was still trying so hard, but he was beginning to realise it might not work. That this was it.

He’d ruined everything. One mistake that he couldn’t take back, couldn’t forget, and couldn’t make up for. Yes, you still loved him, but it was also so more than that. Something unhealthy and consuming. Your attachment to one another had grown so much over the years, that you both couldn’t imagine life without the other. It was impossible. So, you kept holding on no matter how unhappy it made you, and he had to live every waking moment hating himself. He did not want pity, but he wished this feeling would stop one day. Without your forgiveness he didn’t think it ever would.

The most selfish need of them all.

He was long used to looking at his reflection and not recognising the person in front of him. He wasn’t who he used to be. Not even just before the betrayal, but further than that. When you were both so young and in love. Naïve, but happy that way.

He wanted to be the boy you’d fallen in love with again so badly. For you. For him. But as each day passed, he understood it was impossible.

Tonight, he tried his best. If this was the night you’d finally had enough, finally gained the courage to let him go, then he would accept it. It would eat him whole, but he’d accept it. He just wanted to make everything perfect for the last time he got to hold you like this, and then he would leave if you requested it.

Parting was always the hardest during nights like these. When he had to slip from your warmth and lose the only way he felt attached to you anymore. It killed him. His mind whirred, agonising over whether you were going to end it right then and there. He kissed your mouth softly like he always did, but so deeply tonight, like he wanted to sink and get lost.

He waited for your reaction.

Some nights everything would be okay, and you would open your eyes and smile, wrapping your arms around him, hugging him to your body. Nights like those gave him a false hope. When he thought true forgiveness was coming. Reality hit him hard again the next day. Other nights you’d roll onto your side, shaking him off. Separating you both. Instant cold back again. Those nights made him hate himself even more. He could only imagine you felt the same way about yourself.

Tonight however, was something different entirely. He watched as your face contorted, expression crumbling before you wept. It stunned him for a moment, not having seen you cry this hard since he’d confessed, but quickly he took you in his arms, cradling you to his body as you sobbed. Tears pricked his own eyes as he kissed your head and shushed you. Words on the tip of his tongue that he hesitated to get out. Finally, he did.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

Over and over again, like he was begging to make things right, begging to be heard. He would hold you all night if he had to, repeating the same apology until you fell to sleep.

He was scared. Head swarming with thoughts of the unknown.

This had not happened before. He prayed it was a good sign.

Only morning would tell.

Written 2019-20. Reworked/Edited 2021 Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

#ave is right it's angst season #cries #jungkook fic #bts fic #jungkook angst #fic:decalcomania #floralseokjin:writings

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spaceskam · 5 years ago

Text

day 3 of @alexmanesappreciation: legacy but I took a lot of liberties (also a follow up to the fic i wrote for day 2)

warning: memory loss, teenager-esque jealousy, mentions of Caulfield & 2x12

ao3

Alex knew he must've misunderstood something whenever Maria got there.

Michael caught her by the hand before she could run up to Alex and he pulled her to the side to have a word. But Alex wasn't stupid. He saw the way he touched her and the way she touched him and how close they stood while speaking to one another. It made him more uncomfortable than the fact he was standing half naked and letting Kyle and Liz prod at his body like he was a science experiment. Maybe he was.

Alex watched them until they finished their conversation. Michael squeezed her hand before letting go and she nodded simply. Maria turned to him with a big, cautious smile and came closer. With permission from Liz to touch him, she wrapped him up in her arms. He wanted to be happy to see her, but he couldn't take his eyes off Michael. What were they keeping from him?

"I'm so glad you're okay, I was worried sick," Maria said sincerely, squeezing him. Alex hugged her back easily and tried to stop looking at Michael. Just because he'd lost 10 years of his memory and it was super important to find out who and why didn't mean they could leave out massive plot points like Maria and Michael touching each other like that. But if they left it out and Michael kissed him, maybe he was looking into it too much. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired and sore," Alex answered. His whole face was throbbing and it hurt to use his crutches because of the bruising on his ribs.

But Kyle got Isobel Evans of all people to stop by his house and get something they called an iwalk. It fit around his not-leg and was sort of a substitute for a prosthetic so he could stand up without irritating his leg more. He hated it.

"I bet," Maria said, "But you still look hot despite all the bruises, so take it as a win."

"Yeah, I will," he said, eyes going back to Michael who was standing over her shoulder, "Can I put my clothes back on now?"

"Oh, yeah, of course, sorry," Liz said, rambling as she had been, "I just need to take a blood sample, but you can have your clothes on for that."

Michael came over to him then as if it was his job to help him get dressed. He grabbed the pair of sweats and the t-shirt he’d brought for him so he didn’t have to put back on the ones he’d been wearing the whole time he’d been allegedly kidnapped. Alex carefully sat down on the stool and started unlatching his thigh from the iwalk thing. Michael’s hands instinctively went to help.

“Stop it,” Alex said, catching his chin in his hand and pulling him into a kiss. Michael smiled into it and so Alex dragged it on as long as he was allowed, deepening it without concern for who might see since everyone could see. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t peek to see if Maria saw. And she clearly had because she looked away.

“Whoa, okay,” Michael laughed, pulling away. His cheeks were red and Alex was obsessed. It made all the bad things happening a little bit better. “Let’s get you dressed, huh?”

They took the straps off his thigh and Alex used Michael as leverage to pull the sweats over his hips. He pulled the shirt on carefully and slowly due to his face and ribs while Michael tied off the hanging end of the sweats. The whole process took, like, five whole minutes. So long that Alex had to pull him back in for a kiss when they were done.

“Alright, we get it,” Liz laughed, nudging Michael out of the way. Alex reluctantly let him out of his grasp. “After I take a blood sample, do you want painkillers?”

Alex felt himself relax a little at the offer. “You have some?”

“Yeah, do you need them?”

“I would prefer them,” he admitted. It was easy to push aside his discomfort when Michael was kissing and touching him. But he couldn’t have that forever and he was still hurting. Hell, he couldn’t even see out of one of his eyes.

“Okay, let me take a sample so I can start getting to work and figuring out how to fix this,” Liz said, wiping down a spot on his arm with an alcohol pad. He’d had so many of those on him in the last hour that he was surprised he wasn’t getting drunk through his skin.

“Didn’t you say someone else had this stuff in them too? Didn’t you try to find a cure for it then?” Alex asked. Liz looked up at him, face a little grim.

“Well, with Cam, we didn’t really know who or what to expect to find in her memories. She had a much weaker dose and it only erased what she saw when she was taken. She wasn’t exactly super excited to remember those weeks,” Liz explained, trying to force a kind smile, “You know, it’s a little weird seeing 29-year-old Alex’s face, but with 19-year-old Alex’s voice and eyes.”

“What are you talking about?” Alex asked just as she pushed a needle into his arm. He didn’t even wince.

“You look older, but... you carry yourself a bit lighter when you were young,” Liz explained, “Before everything.”

It was a small suggestion, but it had Alex’s mind reeling. Before everything? Was she insinuating things got worse? Or maybe she didn’t know about the shed. Maybe she had no idea what she was talking about.

Alex looked to Michael for some type of elaboration, but his eyes involuntarily went for his hand. It was all wrapped beneath a bandana, but it hid... nothing. He jumped at the sight of that, frantically looking up to Michael’s face.

“Whoa, stay still,” Liz said, “Still drawing blood.”

“What happened to your hand? I-It looks fine. I don’t understand,” Alex said, panic building in him again. Maybe this wasn’t just a weird time-jump, maybe he was in a different universe all together. “Wait, did... did my dad still...”

He didn’t know how to ask the question. And, apparently, no one knew how to answer.

The air got heavy and everyone around them stilled while Liz slowly pulled the needle out of his arm and replaced it with a band-aid. Alex’s eyes were stuck on Michael who shifted uncomfortably at the topic.

“Yeah, that still happened,” Michael said softly, clearing his throat as he looked to Liz, “I was thinking that maybe they took him to erase all of the shit he knew to make him less of a threat.”

Everyone noticed the drastic subject change, but didn’t address it. Alex, however, wasn’t as easily subdued. He wanted to know. He opened his mouth again, but he was cut off by Kyle handing him a couple pills and a water bottle. After he took that, he was again cut off by Michael stepping in close. Alex took his hand since clearly he wasn’t going to get much in the way of an explanation.

He ran his fingertips over the unscarred skin while his adult friends talked around him.

“But what’s the point of that? I mean, he obviously already had an attachment to you,” Isobel chimed in. Alex made that even more obvious by resting his head against Michael’s chest. His heart was pounding so hard he could barely hear their conversation. How was his hand so smooth again? How had he gone so long without noticing?

“Maybe they were trying to go further and failed,” Michael suggested, “Or maybe they just wanted to erase the alien thing to try and warp his position.”

Before Alex could even ask what the hell he was talking about, his mind blurred.

“Do you want to know who I am, or do you wanna know what I am?”

“Yes.”

Alex gasped and clutched Michael’s hand, looking up at him with wide eyes. Michael looked at him in concern and they just stared for a few minutes. Alex could feel that familiar buzz under his skin, contentment of being with him mixing with that tumultuous fire of arguing with him. Because apparently they did that a lot... they argued.

“What? What happened?” Michael asked, his hand laying on Alex’s neck and using his thumb to hold his chin up. Alex looked at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“My dad was the reason I know,” Alex murmured, “He told me. I’m not gonna sway on my stance no matter when I find out.”

Michael stared at him for a moment, eyes flickering over his face as he tried to process what he said. Then he pressed a kiss to his forehead and Alex let himself relax back into Michael. He hated this, hated not remembering everything. But that was the thing, wasn’t it? Something about him made it easy to make him not remember. Trauma really was a bitch.

“Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the goal,” Michael said, “Maybe they were just trying to take out our biggest threat.”

“But then why would they give him back? And why would they drop him off at your place?” Kyle asked.

“Well, he was asleep when I got there. Maybe he still had his memories and he escaped and my place was the closest, but the drug activated whenever he passed out,” Michael suggested, his hand rubbing up and down Alex’s back.

“Do you really think he’d be able to escape on his own after getting beat up that bad?” Maria asked. Michael huffed a small laugh.

“Yeah. Especially if he still had his memories.”

They kept talking, kept brainstorming, and Alex kept feeling more and more exhausted. The painkillers dulled his nerves enough for him to focus on the fact that he needed sleep and trying to remember more than one offhanded conversation and the vague context of it was making him suffer even more. He turned the good side of his face into Michael’s chest and closed his eyes. He felt safe there.

“So, what, we think he got taken and his memory erased to fuck up his role in dismantling a legacy? Wouldn’t they have taken me too?” Kyle asked.

“No offense, but you haven’t exactly been hands on lately,” Liz said as kindly as possible. Kyle scoffed. “But from what I can tell, it’s definitely Butyricol. Same grimy little cells lurking in his blood.”

“Gross.”

“Absolutely. But I’m thinking if I can extract it I can work with it enough to see if I can make something that, you know, brings back memories, sort of like a human-equivalent to the alien antidote I made. Otherwise we’re stuck with him getting maybe one or two every once in awhile,” Liz said.

“How long do you think that’ll take?” Michael asked, one hand still rubbing his back and the other cupping the back of his head. Alex was more at peace than he’d been in awhile despite the fact they were all talking about him.

“Long enough for you to let him take a nap, but not so long you should leave and risk running into more trouble,” Liz told him. Michael nodded.

“Okay, then we’re just gonna go lay in Kyle’s car.”

“No fucking in my car.”

“Obviously.”

Alex reluctantly sat up and grabbed his crutches. He hated this whole missing leg thing. He wanted his memories back if only so he could be used to it again. If that version of him was used to it. Would he ever be?

He gave an extra look to his friends. Liz and Kyle were already getting to work. Maria gave him a kind smile. Isobel was... there. And Michael was watching him, ready to catch him if he needed it.

It was a slow and irritating process making it over the messy halls and desert terrain to get to the car, but they eventually found themselves cuddled up in the backseat of the car. Alex basically laid on top of Michael, trying to get some sleep. But he couldn’t, not quite. Not until he asked the question bothering him the most.

“We’re not together, are we?” he whispered. Michael was quiet for a little while, his thumb never stopping the smooth circles he rubbed into his shoulder.

“No,” he answered, “We’re not.”

“You’re with Maria,” Alex filled in, “I saw the way you guys touched each other.”

Michael took a deep, slow breath and it made Alex rise with him. He just waited for an explanation of how Maria, if she really was his girlfriend, was letting him be so hands on with Alex. Of course, Alex wasn’t mad about it. He missed Michael. Both with and without his memories.

“We’re... over. We were sort of in the middle of a breakup before you showed back up because I spent the last week ignoring her and tearing the world apart trying to find you,” Michael said, “She wasn’t mad that I was looking for you or anything, I guess it just finally clicked that... It doesn’t matter, we agreed we’d talk later, but right now it’s all about making sure you’re safe and comfortable.”

Alex lifted his head a little to look at his eyes. He was gorgeous. Sadder and rougher than Alex remembered, but gorgeous.

“But you still like me?” Alex wondered. Michael huffed a small laugh, his hand carefully combing through his hair.

“Alex,” he said, his eyes flicking around his face. Alex noticed the moment he decided on what he wanted to say and he said it with confidence. “I love you.”

Alex’s mouth felt dry and his not-swollen eye widened. Love. That was new.

Again, before Alex could find his words, his mind blurred again.

“They’re my family, Alex!”

“Alright, maybe! But you are mine!”

Alex came back with another gasp, trying to ground himself again as Michael stared at him. The two second memory flooded him with residual gratitude that he was here. He was alive. He was his.

“I don’t look away, Guerin,” Alex told him. Slowly, a smile showed on his face and it might’ve been the most beautiful think Alex had ever seen.

“Was that just one memory, or...” Michael said, a hopeful little tinge to his voice. Alex hated to let him down, but he nodded.

“Just one,” he whispered. Michael’s smile didn’t fade any as he nodded.

“Then I want you to know I loved you then and I love you now. When you remember all the bullshit I’ve done to you, remember that I loved you through it all. I never stopped, okay? If they erased your memory to fuck with your place in your family’s legacy, than I’m gonna go ahead and use it to fuck with ours too. We were meant to be together and to be happy. I know that for a fact and I know people died to make it so. So, I’m saying it now. I have always and will always love you, Alex Manes,” Michael told him.

Something akin to giddy laughter bubbled out of Alex at the words he was hearing, his whole system flushed with love and appreciation. He knew once he got his memories back, he’d probably feel different. From the way Michael was speaking, he knew he would feel different.

But right now he felt like he was on top of the world.

“I love you too,” Alex said, moving up to kiss him, “And I’m really upset we agreed not to fuck in Kyle’s car.” Michael laughed.

“You’re hurt.”

“Yeah, but I’m 19 and sleeping with a guy in Kyle Valenti’s car sounds like the best kind of revenge.”

Michael laughed again, pressing another kiss to his lips as he said, “Yeah, well, your body isn’t 19 and 29-year-old you might have a problem with me letting you get bent like that when you probably haven’t done your PT in over a week.”

Alex raised an eyebrow.

“Bent? That sounds like a challenge.”

“Go to sleep,” Michael told him, still grinning as he led Alex’s head to the crook of his neck, “I know you feel good right now, but this is just the beginning to a whole slew of bullshit that’ll come whenever we figure out who took you and what happened over the last week.”

Alex rolled his eyes, but agreed. It was hard to sleep with the adrenaline pumping through his system at Michael’s I love you, but eventually his fatigue caught up with him.

Later, he woke up to Liz excitedly telling him that she was sure she found a way to reverse it. They injected him with it and they waited.

It didn’t happen immediately. In fact, they had to deal with a lot of stuff before he really got those memories back. They had to deal with his father, namely, and Crashcon. It was difficult trying to act like he knew what all these people had become and trying to assimilate just a little bit at a time. Even with Michael it was hard. There were pieces missing that made things different.

It all came to a head, though, when Alex found himself staring at his brother standing between his father’s gun and Michael Guerin.

“I know what he means to Alex.”

And suddenly Alex did too.

(ps if you want a fic where they actually bang in kyle’s car, check out @prouvaireafterdark‘s fic here because what am i if not slowly becoming a lynne fanpage)

#alexweek2020 #alexappreciation2020 #malex fic #malex #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic

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my-writings-and-musings · 4 years ago

Note

I was wondering if you could do something with ambulon, possibly fluff? Love the imagines btw

Thank you for giving me an excuse to love on my favorite underappreciated boy. Also, thank you, I love all the inspiration!

The chipping paint was a sore point for Ambulon, like so many other things about himself, but unlike all his other unfortunate traits it was made so much worse by the simple fact that it was impossible to hide. Having an embarrassing altmode, the true reason for his name, even his past as a Decepticon... he could cover all that up no problem. But the constantly chipping paint job? No shielding that from anyone close enough to simply see him...

It was made worse by how often bots tried to offer tips; use a primer, pay for a proper redo, try some new sealant... He knows they mean well, but none of them know what they're talking about, not really. If it was that easy, did they really think he wouldn't have fixed it by now? The Decepticon purple paint underneath was just as fragmented as the medic coded red and white on top, and that wasn't going to be fixed by anything simple.

The truth was "Flaky Paint Syndrome" could have many causes despite manifesting as a single, embarrassing result, and while most bots had poor application or easily irritated mesh to blame, his problem was rooted in something far less corporeal.

He was anxious. Every hour of every day, something had him on edge, and the constant strain on his nerves resulted in chips of paint cracking away from his always agitated frame. It was lucky really, most bots as unsettled as he was developed spark static or overheated and warped joints, his constant buzz of disquiet just made him look somewhat sloppy. Such a personality probably made his occupation seem like a bad choice, but he was content to endure the struggle for the satisfaction of saving lives, and now that he was on the relatively stable Lost Light he was managing better than he had in a long time. Thus, he hadn't had any plans on changing his status quo anytime soon.

Until you had showed up.

He hadn't even met a human before you'd joined the crew, but even if he had, he never could have expected that you'd get tangled up in his life the way you did. Something about you had just... connected with him. Maybe it was the fact that you didn't make fun of him, either for his altmode or his appearance, and also hadn't judged him for his past... Not even the reason for his silly name had made you laugh! He just liked spending time with you, even if it was to do nothing in particular.

As a result of these feelings, a desire to impress you had formed, and he'd actually made an effort to keep up with his looks for a change. Granted, that meant daily repaints completely unaided and in secret, all in his room where he twisted and turned in a ridiculous effort to look good for the person who probably only saw him as a friend. Logic didn't play much of a role in feelings, however.

Of course, it was just his luck you'd walked in on him at this most embarrassing time for the kind of friendly visit he ordinarily would have been thrilled about.

The cry of surprise that had escaped him when the doors whooshed open was impressively high pitched for a bot of his size, but you'd probably been more focused on the paint his startled jump had sent spattering in all directions, though none of it had flown far enough to hit you by some miracle.

"Ambulon, are you okay?!" You shouted in alarm, seeing the flash of red but not his paintbrush and immediately thinking of blood. Though you knew bots bled glowing pink, the instinct to offer aid at the first impulse was just too hard to ignore. Without hesitation, you hurried to get to his side, only growing more concerned as he hid his hand behind his back. Even if this wasn't how you'd wanted your visit to go you cared far too much about the medic to be concerned about such petty things. "What's wrong? Where are you hurt?"

"Who? Me? Hurt?" He rushes in ongoing panic, backing up against a desk to put as much space between you and him as possible. Despite looking ridiculous backing away from someone as small as you, all he can think to do is hide his paintbrush in an effort to save his dignity. At least, what's left of his dignity as he sputters through an excuse made up on the spot. "I'm just, uh... You know..."

Painting a landscape? Applying color to his hab suite? Decorating his medical supplies!?

"Are you painting something?" You asked, moving your small body to catch a glimpse of a bot sized paintbrush in the hand he hadn't done a good enough job of hiding. You figuring out the problem actually seemed to make him panic more, and he twisted again to hide the offending object behind his back, looking down at you as if you'd just stumbled upon him burying a body.

"Of course not!" He said in a rush, lie falling apart when the thick application of bright red he'd applied to his chest dripped downwards from the force of his rapid twisting around. Cringing, he avoided your eyes like a criminal. It would be bad enough if you simply knew about his troubles in any level of detail, but to have personally seen his juvenile and ridiculous efforts to cover up his humiliating condition... Would it be too much to ask that he dissapear at this very moment?

"Ambulon, are you okay?"

Nope, he's not, he won't be ever again but it's very nice that you thought to ask-

"Seriously, look at me."

You're firm but not at all angry as you issue the command, starting to put the pieces together in a way that makes some sense. The medic has had paint troubles more or less his entire life, as you've heard, but they had started to dissapear right about when you showed up. Though you hadn't pried, it had been logical to assume he'd been fixing himself up. Regardless of the accuracy of your guess, however, you know that this bot needs help. As much as you care for him, you simply can't let him suffer needlessly. No matter how often he switches between seeking you out and avoiding you...

"I'm... I'm fine, I promise." He mumbles, feeling like a pitiful failure for not even thinking to lock his door. There's so much to be embarrassed by he doesn't even know where to begin being mortified, but it's obvious the fallout will be a spiral into further humiliation, so he still wants to stall. You'll laugh when you hear he's been fixing himself up in a ridiculous attempt to impress you, because of course it's absurd, and he'll never be able to show his face again...

"Why are you embarrassed about some paint? I figured bots touched themselves up every now and then." You said innocently, baffled as to why he'd react in such a way. Rodimus bragged about redoing his colors all the time, so you'd figured there were no issues in doing so. Was there some other reason this could be considered embarrassing? The only possible explanation required you to go on a bit of a limb, but for his sake you decided to chance it, gulping once before you hesitantly spoke up. "Did you do this for me? Have you been redoing the colors since I got here?"

Ambulon flinched, and you realized you'd hit the nail on the head.

"I'm sorry-"

"For what?" You asked incredulously, head swimming with emotions clustering to be felt first. There was surprise, giddy delight, bashfulness, and even confoundment at the idea you could be in this situation. A part of you wanted to celebrate, but there was still far too much to sort through at the moment. His look of hopelessness exemplified the problem.

"For being ridiculous! Look at me! Pretending if I touch up some rough patches, it'll actually do anything? Ha!" He said, giving voice to the unpleasant uncertainty that lurked just below the surface. Drowning in his insecurity, he frowned hard, the absurdity of what he'd been trying to do all but slapping him in the face. Forget the species difference, you were a vibrant and charming individual who deserved far better than he. What had he even been trying to do? The answer came out of him as he sunk down to the ground and let the brush fall, hugging his knees as the weight of it all pulled him down. "I wanted so badly to look good for you, I lost track of common sense..."

"But Ambulon-"

Unable to hear you, he kept right on going, lost in his own little fog of shame. "You weren't supposed to know... Nobody was supposed to know... But I blew it-"

"Ambulon!"

You couldn't take it any more. The heartbreaking sight of the bot you thought was so delightful tearing himself apart was too much. Ignoring any common sense, you put yourself out for his sake, opening up your heart in the hope that your own vulnerabilities might help him feel better. A tender hand on his own preceded a gentle expression of reasurance as you looked into his optics.

"I'm flattered you want to look your best for me, really. But it's not necessary." You said, suddenly aware that your heart was hammering as you prepared to confess. It was probably about time you cut to the chase, after spending these months bobbing along in uncertainty, but that didn't make it any less scary to be so open. Hopefully it would all end well... "I think you look fine just how you are."

Ambulon felt his processor go blank, and all that he could do was fall back on his usual attitude with a surprised retort. "But I'm a mess!"

You laughed, but not in the way he'd feared. It was a good natured, loving, laughing with him and not at him kind of sound. "I don't care about some paint chips now and then, you goof. Why do you think I'm here?" All of a sudden your fear seemed to be turning into confidence, the anxieties you'd created for yourself melting away as the truth came out. Seeing a towering alien laid low by your simple feelings definitely made it much easier to express them. "I wanted to see you, purple and red and all, because I like you."

Something clicked inside of him upon hearing those words. So much shame and fear dissolved in what felt like an instant, his optics pushing up with his cheeks as he smiled the biggest and happiest smile he could, optics brightening the whole while. It was what he'd wanted more than anything but feared he'd never receive. Unfurling his legs, he leaned down just a tad to get closer. Heedless to everything about himself that had bothered him so much, he spoke softly in return.

"I really like you too."

"I know." You replied softly, looking to the brush that had fallen to the floor and the paint still drying on his frame as an idea hatched in your head. The two of you had a lot to talk about, it seemed, and you had the perfect way to pass the time while doing so. "Now, how about I help you finish up? Don't want all this to go to waste."

Realizing what you were suggesting, he picked up a much smaller paintbrush and handed it to you, still smiling as he helped you onto his desk where the paints laid out for use.

"I'd like that."

#ambulon #ambulon x reader #transformers #maccadam #tf #idw #more than meets the eye #mtmte #lost light #human reader #self insert #my writing #requests #my asks #anon

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