#ive had this wip for like a month but want to share him with the world | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

akirameta84 · 1 year ago

Text

idk when or if ill finish this and ive had a habit of sharing my unfinished wip fics lately so heres the sequel to the werewolf au oneshot i wrote (and that i also shared the first part of months before i finished and posted it to ao3 lol)

id say its a bit under halfway done? idk. it follows directly after the last oneshot and may be confusing without it. and its an unfinished fic so you wont be missing anything if you just wait for it to eventually be finished and published (even if it might be a year rip)

but yeah. this is the first half or so wip of "Howling Harassment" sequel to the kubosai werewolf oneshot "Lycanthropic Liasons"

has not been edited or proofread obviously cause its not even done

its 5.3k words, and warning for vomiting mentions. if you want to skip the mini scene where kusuo is sick (he doesnt puke in the scene but talks about having done so) ive bolded the start and end of it. you wont be missing any plot details with it, but this wip preview does end shortly after it with just a paragraph so if you plan to skip that scene you can just stop reading at the first bolded part and be fine

enjoy i guess

also my italics didnt copy over so :shrug: place them where you think they go

Kusuo had been enjoying a very nice nap, relaxing peacefully and soaking in some warm sunshine, when the feeling of something wet dripping onto him slowly roused him from his slumber.

He blearily opened one eye but then immediately snapped both open when he caught sight of the tan wolf, shockingly with a normal looking chin, leaning over him and drooling all over his face. Recoiling and lurching to his paws in the same beat, he stumbled a good few meters away from Nendou, standing tensely in the grass.

They were right outside the makeshift and, honestly, poorly constructed hideout of Kaidou and Aren’s, and Kusuo had thought that if he took a nap outside he could both enjoy the sun on his fur and separate himself from Nendou, since the idiot would likely be enthralled by Kaidou and Aren attempting to play card games with paws.

Apparently Kusuo had been very very wrong. He sat down hard into the dirt and reached a back leg to scratch painfully at his head, like it would help get all the saliva off of him even though he knew it wouldn’t.

Nendou had been staring at him the whole time until a deep bark from the hideout entrance sounded, calling his attention. Aren’s deep purple and very furry but scarred head stuck out from the door made of blankets and glared at Nendou, having heard Kusuo’s mental distress. Nendou whimpered but strutted over to the entrance and headed inside.

In regards to the werewolf telepathy, since they were unsure if Nendou could hear them, attempting verbal communication without the ability to speak words was necessary to try and talk to the idiot who had also found himself lycanthropic by unknown means. At least they knew where he was now and Kusuo could fix any problems his disappearance has started to cause.

Kusuo was slightly worried as well that, due to the fact that he was missing all of the last week, Nendou couldn’t turn back like Kaidou and Aren had at first. Kusuo had been able to teach them by just instructing them through how he usually activated his shape-shifting, and it had thankfully done the trick.

He was still hoping that Nendou could hear their trains of thought even if they were blocked from his. He’d shown no signs of it, but this was Nendou. He could be hearing everything and not give a single clue.

Either way, it was still absolutely bizarre to have someone (Or up to three someones) reading his mind for a change, even if the fact that he didn’t have to bother with proper communication as much was pleasant.

‘It’s still bizarre to me that you’ve heard all of our thoughts up to now from when you met us, Kusuo.’

Yeah. That was fair. Kusuo lifted his head and gazed at the darkening sky that was many shades of orange and pink as the sun gradually lowered into the horizon. It was rather pretty and almost soothing to stare at. It’d been decently bright and blue when he’d gone to sleep, so he’d gotten a good few hours in.

That was good. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep once he went back home and dealt with what would be waiting for him. There was no way his brother had already gone from England to Japan in under twelve hours, even if their mom calling about limiter issues was fairly serious, but he’d still get harassed via television video call from his brother and either wait in dread for his brother to fly over or just teleport himself and get it over with.

Both sucked.

‘I think you’re over reacting. Surely your brother didn’t literally create something that turns people into werewolves. That sounds impossible. To be fair, so does being born an esper, but still.’

‘…B-but how else did it get…created?’

Kaidou was very bad at hiding his excitement at the concept of a mad scientist making something like lycanthropy, even if he posed his question as.

And also how he wondered if Kusuo’s brother could make him into a vampire instead, because when he watched a movie series called- ‘Hey stop stop sto-’

Kusuo snorted but obliged and cut that train of thought off, standing up and padding over to the hideout entrance.

Regardless, the answer was very much no to Kaidou, there really was no other potential source, and yes to Aren. Kuusuke was most certainly behind this and Kusuo was either going to make him fix it or commit fratricide.

‘…Can you…m-maybe-’

‘If he makes a cure I’m not letting you stay like this, Kaidou.’

Kusuo arrived at the blanket covering and stepped inside right on cue to see Kaidou’s best attempt at a canine frown and puppy eyes…the latter of which was quite a lot more effective in a literal dog form than it normally was for the boy seated on a pillow in the very corner of the hideout, front paws splayed over a bunch of cards on the carpeted ground in front of him.

He looked away before the eyes could take effect. He was getting far too soft and was not about to consider willingly keeping one of his friends a goddamn werewolf when he could reverse it.

When. Not if. Kusuo kept making sure he left no room for doubt in his mind. That way it would be easier to kill Kuusuke if he failed to make a totally guaranteed cure.

Aren was padding back over to the light blue wolf, a sulking Nendou in tow, and though Kusuo’s thoughts had already spelled out for the two of them that he was about to go home and get the confrontation or whatever over with, he still had one more pressing issue to attempt to solve beforehand.

‘Nendou,’ He projected outwards, staring at him as if it would help get his message across, taking a few more steps on the frankly uncomfortably textured carpet.

To his slight shock, the tan wolf spun his head around so quickly he feared Nendou would break his neck (A familiar sight, Nendou did that far too much, even if it had less of an impact without the…mildly disturbing human face), tongue lolling out of his mouth as he watched Kusuo expectantly.

Aren and Kaidou looked up, intrigued, their minds similarly surprised that Nendou could hear their minds just fine.

…Could he? There was a chance that had been Kusuo’s own inherent telepathy as it was hard to tell the two versions apart, unlike the ease at which he could separate the lycanthropic ability and his own shape-shifting.

If it was his own and the idiot couldn’t hear Kaidou or Aren that wasn’t that much of an issue. Kusuo was the one who needed to help him turn back, after all.

(Considering the fact that Nendou didn’t visibly react to any of Kusuo’s ambient thoughts about that, actually, Nendou was not connected to the werewolf telepathy. He can only hear projected thoughts from Kusuo’s. Kaidou seemed utterly fascinated by that, while Aren was just mildly annoyed at how it was so complicated. Kusuo was in agreement with his boyfriend, and not just because of that status).

Nendou’s head tilted after the good few moments of staring, and Kusuo realized he should probably elaborate on why he got his attention before he was licked or pounced on again.

‘Do you want me to show you how to turn back tomorrow?’

He almost offered to do it right now but remembered, bitterly, that they were all stuck like this for a good while longer thanks to the moon cycle.

To his surprise, Nendou responded by shaking his head no, slobber flailing from his tongue as he did so. He heard Kaidou yelp as a drop landing in his eye, according to his thoughts.

That was…not the expected or desired answer at all. Kusuo wished he could just ask why straight up, but he would just go through the options instead.

Aren had sat down facing the two of them, even though Nendou was still turned away from Kusuo and looking back with his head, face far too amused to be anything but smug.

‘I bet he’s going to already know how to-’

‘You’re jumping ahead in the narrative, shut up.’

‘…I’m what?’

Kusuo firmly decided to ignore him. Kaidou could probably use some help putting all the playing cards away, he not so subtly thought of but didn’t directly project as he looked over and saw the small wolf in question pushing around the cards with his paws to try and get them all in a small stack again.

Aren just rolled his eyes but turned away to assist, and Kusuo gave his attention back to the ever still and rapt Nendou.

Seriously, he kind of wished that Nendou had lost interest in their one-sided conversation during the decently sized breaks in it. That would be less creepy.

‘Are you saying no because you already know how?’ He asked next, using purely his own deductive reasoning and nothing else.

‘You are really something special, babe.’

Kusuo shifted in place, annoyed, as Nendou nodded. There was no bothering with asking why the fuck he had stayed like this a week when there wouldn’t be a reply. He just huffed out a breath of air and asked one last question.

‘Will you please turn back and be human again by tomorrow?’

Nendou unflinchingly nodded at the downright angry tone of Kusuo’s, finally spinning around fulling and raising a front paw up, curling it and uncurling it awkwardly.

Was that supposed to be a thumbs up? Probably. He could only guess that it was because the idiot tended to give so many of those normally.

Kusuo nodded to himself and walked away, putting as much space between him and Nendou as he could in the small hideout, ending up next to the other two slightly less idiotic wolves.

‘Slightly!? It’s more than just slightly!’

Aren just chortled.

‘Do you want help getting home before I go, Kaidou? I can teleport you and then make your family perceive you as human if they happen to see you before you’re able to change back. And, of course, make your disappearance today nonexistent.’

There was a worrying hesitation before Kaidou replied, his snout twisting awkwardly as if he were trying to bite at his lip, and he paused in gently nudging a few cards to the side and merging them with the growing stack. Kusuo used his telekinesis to grab them all and order them neatly into a stack, floating them straight into the box.

Kaidou blinked at him, startled but grateful, but refocused his mind quickly.

‘A-actually I want to. Uh…t-tell them. I don’t want to hide it forever and it would just be…easier. To tell them.’

Huh. Kusuo had heard Kaidou’s mind dance on that possibility, but it had been thought about so little that he hadn’t expected the boy to actually decide on that course of action in the end.

‘…I hope it goes well, then. Do you still want help getting home right now or will you wait?’

‘I’ll w-wait with Aren. Get some nerves out. And go home when we’re back.’

‘Very well.’

Kaidou and Aren had taken to keeping spare clothes in the hideout, so that plan would work just fine for them. Kusuo had no need, he could just teleport freely around those two since his secret wasn’t secret between them. And, in all honesty…it felt nice to have have a friend closer than Aiura or Toritsuka know, as well as someone even closer but not family.

But for now he also was definitely not telling any other friends. Not until he was ready to actually do it on his own terms for once.

Kusuo turned around and walked towards the exit of the hideout despite not needing to in order to head home, but it somehow felt more polite to leave this way and then teleport.

‘I’ll see you guys tomorrow, then.’

Kaidou and Aren seemed baffled that he’d said farewell which was rather fair since he never gave those or said hello much at all, but responded in kind themselves.

Before he could make it all the way out, though, footsteps sprinted towards him, and he didn’t have much time to react before Aren shoved his face against Kusuo’s, rubbing them together like he was a cat instead of a wolf.

Aren’s expression was far too innocent afterwards as he drew back and somehow grinned, and Kusuo rolled his eyes and turned away, keeping his body but most importantly his stupid tail with a mind of its own still as warmth bloomed in his chest, grateful his face couldn’t flush like this.

He continued walking moments after, only not doing something to be polite and reciprocate because he needed to leave and not because the prospect of doing so like this was embarrassing.

He briefly wanted to strangle Aren when he heard his mental chuckle at his denial.

As soon as he had fully crossed through the blanketed doorway, tail and all, Kusuo gathered his energy and teleported to his bedroom, a location so familiar he didn’t even need to conjure the image in his head to travel to it.

And, as soon as all four of his legs landed on his bedroom floor, his television turned on and his brother’s ugly face filled the screen, telepathy canceler adorning his long blonde hair, some of it covering his left eye and the rest of it in a ponytail, despite Kusuo being nowhere close enough to read his mind. He bared his teeth at the image and intentionally raised his hackles.

It took less than a second of being home for his brother to make an entrance.

Fifty six milliseconds, to be precise.

Kuusuke sniffled, feigning sadness as his tinny voice sounded through the speakers, “I can’t believe my own baby brother is so angry at me paying him a pseudo visit. How upsetting, after mom called me so worried about you and everything…”

Kusuo just sat on his floor and glared at the television, making eye contact not with Kuusuke’s image, but with the camera perched very visibly on top of the television.

His brother knew he’d be slaughtered if he had cameras permanently installed in Kusuo’s or their parent’s bedrooms. But he’d been barely spared when he added one to his TV that only activated when he was video calling, and the living and dining rooms got actual full-time cameras.

“Hmph, no response? Not even a rude comment?” His brother paused purposefully and smugly, “Oh, wait, you can’t respond! Without your telepathy, since even with my lovely canceler I’m still far out of range, you can’t speak like that.”

A teasing glint entered his brother’s visible eye as Kusuo continued to glare, unimpressed, “Or can you? Come on, can you speak, Kusuo? Speak? Like a good dog?”

He had to put physical effort into swallowing his growl, because that would have almost given Kuusuke exactly what he wanted. His bedroom sat in silence as they had an impromptu, or really, with his brother, expected competition to see who’s resolve gave first.

Kuusuke didn’t bother to try very hard, giving up with a shrug quickly because as much as he liked to make fun of his brother and attempt to win at every little thing, proper competition or not, they shared the same trait of impatience.

Kusuo’s patience was better overall, though. It had to be, growing up with his powers and all.

“I will say, it is a lot harder to decipher what you want to say like this. I’ve mastered your blank human expression, obviously, but I am very much not a canine person. Maybe I should have made werecats instead…”

Kusuo didn’t even bother to hide his growl that time, narrowing his eyes and translating his words clearly enough that his brother was easily able to garner the meaning when given more information than an empty glare.

“Oh? Am I responsible for you and your friend’s predicament? Obviously. To be completely truthful, though, you were never supposed to find out, and you were especially not supposed get infected yourself.”

Kusuo tilted his head to the side, keeping his eyes narrowed to hopefully keep his skepticism clear.

His brother laughed at first, “Aw, you look adorable like that. It barely looks like you’re angry,” Kusuo snapped his head back up instantly, “But no, I am not lying. That’s why I kidnapped and gave the virus to your brainless friend initially, so you wouldn’t hear any thoughts about it.”

Kuusuke paused to wave a hand dismissively at the question Kusuo didn’t even try to ask, anticipating the obvious.

“I never left London and your friend never left Japan, either. I had robots kidnap and inject him with the serum I had mailed to a private lab I own in the area beforehand. It was easier and I had no risk of getting infected myself. What I failed to realize is that your little pet idiot could break out of a room made of solid steel walls and take off the tracking collar in the process.”

The screen briefly flickered to an image of, presumably, the room Nendou had been held in. There was a large hole in one of the gray, metal walls, opening straight into the outside, and the image barely lasted a few seconds before his brother was back in view.

Ah. Kusuo didn’t think that was possible either, but this was Nendou they were talking about, who has done countless other inhuman feats like his stunt in the school marathon. If Kusuo didn’t know any better, he’d say that Nendou also had psychic abilities.

“Anyways, I’m sure you’re wanting my help with this…issue of yours?” Kuusuke questioned, not leaving room for Kusuo to respond before continuing.

Not that Kusuo would have replied anyways, but the implications were still rude.

“Why don’t you teleport over here right away and let me have a look? I have to admit, much to my shame… I have no way of making a cure without seeing the biological structure of the transformed state first. Otherwise I might be reverting things that are actually a part of your human body.”

That was the biggest pile of bullshit Kusuo had ever heard, and his eye roll only conveyed a tiny fraction of how pissed he was.

“Ah, you’re too smart for that, huh, Kusuo? Yeah, I actually don’t know if I can revert the lycanthropy at all, haha! I never planned to in the first place.”

…Sometimes, the truth hurt significantly more than the lie he had tried to get fed. Kusuo sighed, quite displeased, and stood with a stretch, walking right past his television and heading for the door of his bedroom, which he swung open telekinetically.

He couldn’t see his brother anymore, but he could, unfortunately, still hear him, “Cold shoulder, huh? I never said I wouldn’t try, Kusuo,” He paused mid-step, body halfway out of the door, “Teleport over tomorrow before school, since I really don’t think you’ll get anywhere near me transformed and you’re stuck like this until around six in the morning tomorrow, and I’ll see what I can think of. I won’t keep you anymore, mom’s about to call you down for dinner. Goodbye!”

Kusuo heard his television forcefully shut off with a faint click at the same time his mom’s thoughts grew in volume as they targeted him with ‘Ku-chan, dinner’s ready!’

He’d known dinner was ready. That was why he’d teleported home at this time and had started leaving the conversation when he had. Hmph. Maybe it was a little bit of intentional cold shoulder, sure, but it was mostly dinner.

Or at least that was what he’d tell his mom if Kuusuke whined to her about Kusuo being mean, because he was just being mean for the fun of it. It wasn’t like his brother didn’t deserve it. Sure, he said he was going to genuinely try and fix the whole stupid werewolf thing, but it was his fault in the first place so the effort overall amounted to nothing.

…Did Kuusuke say six in the morning? That probably meant the initial shift had been at six this morning, which added up. That was utterly ridiculous. It was from sunrise to sunrise on the day and night with the fullest moon. How irritating. Kusuo was very good at tuning out Kaidou and Aren’s train of dialogue at this point, helped by his seventeen years of experience tuning out telepathy in general, so much so that he could even forget about them, but their exclamations of horror at that time-frame brought them back into the forefront for a moment.

They’re going to be waiting in that hideout much longer than anticipated… Kusuo sent them a brief condolence. He sent himself a reminder to set an alarm for tomorrow morning so he could shift back promptly.

Abruptly done, Kusuo turned back into his room instead of stepping all the way out, finding and grabbing his dinner telekinetically and bringing it straight to himself, ignoring the silverware for obvious reasons. Upon seeing his plate float away from his table, his mom’s thoughts became rather worried, but he reassured her that he was fine, just still. Having issues.

“…And I’ll be going to see Kuusuke early tomorrow,” He tacked on as well, rolling his eyes at how that statement fully calmed her down in the end.

Setting the plate down on his desk, Kusuo did his best to hop onto his desk chair, grumbling as he landed and the chair teetered precariously before balancing. Doing that was much easier as a cat, considering he weighed around ten pounds as one compared to now in which he was probably a good bit over a hundred.

Mildly annoyed, he huffed again tonight, and started eating (And being a bit disheartened at how dull the normally delicious tonkatsu tasted. He didn’t have anywhere near as many taste buds as a human did, so it was like the flavor was distant and sad), debating on if even trying to sleep when he felt wild awake and irritated was even worth it.

Well, even just lying restfully in his bed would be nice, and Kusuo decided listlessly relaxing was how he’d spend the rest of the night. School tomorrow would probably be a pain after having to deal with his brother, and a mental break would be necessary.

If only he had his germanium ring to truly relax in silence, properly removing both forms of telepathy. As much as he was fond of his nuisances, it was socially draining to always be either in a conversation or hearing one, as the werewolf telepathy was louder than his.

‘Are you telling us to shut up?’

‘Of course not. I’m complaining to myself, not you.’

‘…Right.’

Back on track, even if he could wear a ring on paws, it was no longer functional. The initial transformation had taken his ring with it, just like his clothes, and it’d been warped and broken beyond repair due to Kusuo’s innate strength. If it hadn’t, he likely would’ve tied it to a string and placed it on his neck.

As it stood, it was one wrong tap from Kusuo away from shattering, which wasn’t good when one weak tap from Kusuo could kill a person.

At least in the fading hours of daylight as dusk transitioned to night, people were settling down; and while most people weren’t going to sleep, they were going from a busy day to a mellow night routine, and their minds quieted as a result.

Finishing his meal and barely stopping himself from zoning out and letting his brain decide to lick the rest of the plate clean, he squinted at the empty dish and activated his clairvoyance to see if he had any coffee jelly of equal value in the fridge.

Fantastically, he did. Thank god his parents didn’t splurge on fancy dishes and silverware. This cheap ceramic plate had the same value of a slightly high in value convenience store coffee jelly, and so he apported the two of them, not caring at all that his empty plate was now in the refrigerator.

Kusuo could put it up later, before his parents noticed. Probably.

The lack of hands was making Kusuo actually appreciative of the full scale of his ESP for once, as ripping the seal off of the cup of jelly was as simple as a flex of his mind.

His tail thumped against the side of chair from where it dangled downwards as he shoved his snout straight into the cup. The taste may be watered down and nowhere close to how divine it was normally, but there was still enough of it present for him to enjoy it blissfully.

When he finished it and licked the entire inside completely clean he apported the empty cup for a significantly cheaper but still good brand of coffee jelly, since eating the contents regrettably lowered the value.

He deserved two for this whole ordeal. Maybe three…

…Perhaps not three, actually, since it wouldn’t do if he ate too much coffee jelly while being unable to truly enjoy its delectable flavor…yeah, two would suffice. That reason was why he had avoided his favorite treat even when dealing with being miserable and shape-shifted against his will, but a whole day stuck as a dog warranted it.

----

Kusuo should not have eaten any coffee jelly.

His head and stomach burned fiercely but, at the very least, he heard little to no mental voices due to it being the middle of the night. Even Kaidou and Aren were fast asleep, evidently, since there was no trace of them in his mind. So he did get the reprieve of his headache was significantly less than it could have been in this moment.

His mom rubbed his back (Basically petting him but the comfort was something he would have gotten the exact same way in a human form, so whatever), kneeling down on the floor to be next to him as he sat on the same, chilly, bathroom tile, right in front of the toilet.

Caffeine was toxic to canines, as well as most other animals. Technically it was still toxic to humans but that was irrelevant due to humans having the constitution for it.

Wolves did not have the constitution for it. It made them very ill instead.

Yes, he’d known that, but he’s eaten coffee jelly in his cat form with no repercussions despite his biology being just as altered as it was now…but, on retrospect, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever spent the next few hours after those moments remaining in a cat form and letting that body start to digest it, instead turning back before that could happen.

His mom’s mind was frantic with distress which was fair considering she’d found her normally invulnerable son still transformed and heaving the contents of his stomach into the toilet in the middle of the night after waking up from the noise of him teleporting and landing loudly into the bathtub at first because he’d been disoriented and nauseous, but she’d refused to let her mind come up with and ask questions until she was sure Kusuo was going to be alright.

She was a godsend, and so he decided to explain of his own free will so she wouldn’t start crying, which she was far too close to for comfort, flicking his gaze to the side so that it met hers.

“I’m okay. Or getting there. Dogs can’t have coffee or they get sick. I ate two cups of coffee jelly after dinner…I think I forgot to take the plate I apported into the fridge back out as well. Sorry.”

“Kusuo…” The use of his actual name was usually a bad sign, but now it was more out of exasperation and worry than anything of the scolding variety, “Can you still not turn back?”

He just shook his head, not wanting to explain that he wouldn’t be able to until a time frame that was far too specific for what he was still pretending was a power malfunction.

Kurumi just hummed sadly at that, continuing to stroke his back even as his scooted a bit away from the toilet. His stomach was still rolling queasily, but Kusuo was fairly sure that his body was done being absolutely disgusting.

He almost shuddered remembering how it had felt. He was beyond glad his ESP made him neigh immune to disease, because vomiting was the most unpleasant thing he’d ever experienced so far in life.

As he continued to pull himself back together, staring blearily at the white bathroom floor tiles, his mom asked him another question, “Would medicine help?”

“Even if it did, given my powers, I can’t take it like this. Human medication is a very big no-no for animals,” He sighed mentally and slowly raised himself off the ground, taking shaky steps past his mom and towards the open bathroom door. It was dark in the house, and so the hallway outside looked pitch in contrast to the illuminated bathroom, even with his ability to see in the dark.

The bathroom was, fortunately, rather close to his bedroom, so he decided against teleporting and padded slowly back to his room, pausing as his mom rushed ahead to open the door for him, leaving the bathroom light on in the process.

That was sweet of her, even if he probably could have used his telekinesis fine. He sent a quiet thanks to her and closed the gap to his bed agonizingly slowly, as his stomach lurched ominously whenever he tried to speed up more than a tiny bit.

Kusuo had actually managed to drift asleep briefly before this incident, lulled sufficiently by soft mental voices as he laid on his bed, and now he was even sleepier feeling. It seemed like getting sick had actually assisted in granting him some much needed rest.

He didn’t bother to shut his bedroom door, nosing under the covers of his bed until he was completely buried and comfortable, wondering faintly where his mom had gone when he heard her footsteps go downstairs, but overall not that concerned about it.

It was only when he had nearly fallen asleep again that his heightened hearing noticed her approaching his bed, and she called for him as she approached the lump of covers he’d become, “Ku-chan?”

He stuck his head out from under his blankets, the rest of his body curled up tightly behind him, looking curiously at his mom as she held a bowl full of water out at him, setting it down on his end table once she’d confirmed that he knew of its presence.

“If you feel up to it, you should make sure to drink some water, okay? Otherwise you’ll get dehydrated, since you just threw up,” She reached a hand down and stroked his head gently, and Kusuo nodded both to signify that he heard her and to dislodge it politely.

He knew that. He just hadn’t felt like getting himself water when he would have survived the night regardless. But, now that it had been brought to him, he crawled up on his bed until he could stick his muzzle into the bowl and drink as his mom turned to leave, wishing him a good rest of the night that he almost forgot to return.

Drinking from a bowl like this was mildly demeaning, but it was significantly less of a hassle than using telekinesis to drink from a cup was. So, since he was feeling very icky and wanted to exert as little energy as possible right now, he decided he didn’t care, tucking his head right back under his blanket once he’d had enough to satiate his thirst.

----

Waking up to an alarm at six in the morning when he didn’t have to be at school until closer to nine would usually be a miserable experience, but for once, Kusuo was downright filled with joy when he remembered why he was startled out of a deep sleep so early.

#werewolf au #akira scribbles #<- i guess even wips can go here now lol #saiki k #saiki kusuo no psi nan #the disastrous life of saiki k.#kubosai

22 notes · View notes

excadrill · 1 year ago

Text

tagged by @yj-98 ilyyy 🫶🫶🤍

RULES: Reveal the titles of the documents in your WIP folder and tag as many people as there are documents. Let others ask questions about the ones that interest them and post snippets or explain the contents as you see fit!

tag as many people as their are wips.. eep.. sorry i'd put this under a cut but it's not working on mobile 😭

ankhgiveaway.sai [i held an art giveaway in february and havent finished the prizes even tho i keep looking at them and going 'i need to and Want to finish this..']

yuukigiveaway.sai [same as above but the person who requested this one deactivated so i. don't know if i'm still gonna finish it]

sonomomo.sai [my current priority 'For Me' wip.. ive shared this wip w some people but ive never done a proper piece for the 'cycle of life and death' thing for them so that's what this one is..💙❤️]

exozinewip5.sai [pokemon zine oc piece, not supposed to share zine wips so idk if i should say more but it's of my beloved gymsona.. this zine will be free + digital and i'll ofc be promoting it more when it's done but it's soooo cute keep your eyes out for this one :3c '5' not bc im contributing multiple pieces but bc this piece is big and slightly intimidating for me so i keep saving different versions when i do major merges]

pocketzine-nymble.sai [another pokemon zine piece, so i can't really say more But it's not the only thing im contributing to this zine, ive just finished all my other stuff already]

oczine-thumbs.sai [thumbs for an oc zine i signed up for that i'll probably drop out of bc im not feeling like a vibe w everyone else there >w>;;; ]

philip.sai [philip piece ive had sitting around basically since i finished W.. about a year ago now i think ? but i transferred it to my '23 wips folder bc i still wanna finish it..it was supposed to be a 'this one will be quick and easy so i'll have smthn i Finished this month outside of zine stuff' but. zine stuff took up all my time and energy oops]

mrtourism.sai [this one's a silly post-canon kirihiko art i've Also had sitting around for like a year. i chip away at this one sometimes but then keep restarting bc im unsatisfied with the lines i wish i could just sit down and finish it bc i Love Him]

platform.sai [ummm silly ryotaro thing i drew after watching the den-o final stage ^__^ not a high priority one but it's cute so like. maybe one day]

punkjackhelmet.sai [file name was bc i was originally doing helmet studies before it turned into a full sketch. punkjack with the beat buckle bc i was doing this right after his special came out 🎃🫶]

colourwheel.sai [ummm well. yeah im not good at finishing art memes when theyre still on trend. i did all the sketches for these but i probably won't finish at this point..]

poppyangel.sai [poppy ex-aid i sketched as a break between big stuff the other day that i like a lot so. maybe will finish but might just post unfinished if i cant find the energy to get to this one sooner. feel bad that i like ex-aid so much but don't have any clean art done for it..]

millirider.sai [toku oc planning :3 i was saying last night i finally figured the helmet out which ive been struggling with for ages so hopefullyyyy i get around to doing a proper ref sheet]

im not at my laptop rn so im doing this off the top of my head but i THINK that's everything.. tagging umm @ankhisms @heartvisor @madaraki @circeancity @horrorcomedies @yu3s @pleuvoire @kosukeiichi @danothan @seashrine @asticassia @eclipse-song @kirider only if you guys wanna 🤍🤍

#simon says

9 notes · View notes

geometricalien · 1 year ago

Note

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤

awww thank you for including me. this has just been sitting in my box for the past couple of days but HERE I AM- in no particular order:

This doesn't really have a name... It's just called Merman AU

and it's not a 'fanfic' it's half a collection of headcannons for this AU and half snippets from this idea that I posted on tumblr at @haikyuu-aus-cuz-i-cant-write (oops look who has actually written now jfdksalf) basically this is a cross between the little mermaid and the monkey's paw. I really liked this but it was wayyy too big of an idea for me to write and you can see that I stopped after writing Suga's wish which is reallly funny considering this whole idea spawned from wanting a mermaid/human bokuaka AU and i was not near to getting to the meat of the story at all

Things That Hold Us Together: Steel Bolts and Tender Hearts

yes i just recently posted this, yes i've had this in my folders for like 3 years. this one... this was spawned from an old friend - who i don't speak with anymore - offhand comment that a fanart looked like akashi was an android. four hours after they said that i had half of this fic, and they said it was the best writing i ever shared with them. they encouraged me to expand it but i kept hitting a wall and then we had a falling out and through out the years ive been coming back to this trying to add and edit and i decided to reclaim it as my own and publish it. the idea is that it's an introduction to a lighthearted sitcom/romcom between decommissioned war android akashi and engineer who fixed him up furihata

Language Barriers

i cyclically get star trek brainrot and this time it had a dash of akafuri, i really like how i described things in this one since furihata doesn't think in words but emotions and images instead, idk it was a good writing exercise

Horror wip

ive been hemming and hawing at it for literal months now because i have one central driving image behind my eyelids that i want to get to. its just been... harder than usual to get to it. i've rewritten like 3 times trying to get it write. i've currently landed on 2nd person narration with some thrown in spices of 1st person to signify that we are in the being- akashi's- point of view haunting furihata (the you) and its giving me an opportunity to make the reader feel akashi's destroying love from the front seat. my other goal with this is to write some surrealistic imagery soooo yeP

I Will Follow You Down Through The Gates of Hell

i cant not include this. this damn fic/series/idea has been brewing in the back of my mind for so damn long if it was a human child it could hold a fucking conversation. the imagery. the themes. the depth of emotion- AND WE ARE BARELY GETTING INTO THE WAR!? ITS BEEN 50K+ WORDS AND ITS JUST GETTING STARTED (or ending, if you wanna look at it that way) idk its... its been so long since i wrote part 1 that that fic doesn't feel like "mine" anymore? idk but it always makes me smile seeing an email saying that someone else liked the fics too.

#ask box #alienjack #jack #thank youuuu #i watched talk to me and it got me in a writing inspired mood hence why i dusted off a fic and posted it and finally got around to doing #this too #idk... i know they say to write for yourself- and i do!! (mostly) i don't read ocean eyes thats for damn sure-#and i know that all of my akafuri fics are for myself but some of them...#idk. i feel divorced from? does that make sense? a limb chopped off and given away?#like its not mine anymore?#maybe its just because they have themes i don't resonate with at the moment... maybe bc i didn't do them complete justice?#im not sure #do u feel that way at all? or because you are a literary person you feel more connected to your words #than i do...#some people need to write. they need to express thoughts and feelings or they will combust. they need to pluck words from the air #and sing them in song for the heart.#im im not liek that.#at least. that feeling that driving inspiring consuming feeling doesn't rest on me often.#there is one writing. one little drabble that i wrote while in my emotions that... that is mine.#maybe thats the difference.#as much as i have written. its a mimicry. a mockery of plot and feelings. things i have seen and read elsewhere.#i couldn't place my hand and breathe life into an emotion i haven't felt. not true emotion.#maybe i should just go to bed instead.#sORRY #lil rant

7 notes · View notes

kidsomeday · 9 months ago

Note

I was going to ask for Magical Medieval Vashwood Thing for WIP Wednesday, but I definitely want to request you work on your original story, whatever it may be

You get so much extra writing this go around, because you get both! Thank you for the asks. Both stories apparently wanted to get lots of woods. Felt good to have words just sort of do their thing. -

Medieval Magic Vashwood Thing Wolfwood moved back over to the window for another cigarette, though judging by the way Roberto was waving his own around at the table it wasn’t a necessary courtesy. Still, it got him away from the group again, a chance to calm down after more socialization than he normally had in a month. And the night air smelled sweet coming in off the little garden and somewhere a night blooming flower was sharing itself with the world. Vash and Millie came back in, carrying a tray of sweet breads, butter, and jam. Tea was refreshed, and from somewhere Millie produced a glass of something hoppy smelling for Roberto. They provided a calm background to the passionate debate between the others- it had veered from Roberto’s card play to some archaic rule about animal husbandry- and Wolfwood was stuck with something that might have been nostalgia but wasn’t because he’d never been allowed this kind of life, never been close enough to another person to have their weirdness become rote, never known people so well they could hand out bread with the exact amount of butter and jam you like, never laughed at a joke so well worn a simple look was enough to cause another burst into laughter. He knew that longing well enough, the memory of being so cold and hungry and looking in to warmth, happiness, little families sitting around the table and smiling. The nuns did the best they could, but there were so many other children, and food was so often scarce, and their clothes more mended patches than original garment. But he had sat there at the table. He’d made Millie laugh and Roberto snort in surprise. He’d made Vash compete in a secret game. Meryl had even given him a compliment at one point. It made him feel strange and unsettled. Sitting away from everyone was better, for now.

Original Story Thing

Caleb was staring at him like they’d never met before, and Henry had to assume it was hard for him to process things before. It was quite the situation to have to be in. As troubling as the situation was for him it had to much, much worse for Caleb. It wasn’t either of their fault that he was that sick. It was his fault that he hadn’t told anyone and had been apparently willing to curl up in a corner and suffer through the weekend, but Henry had long since stopped trying to figure out why people did anything. “There shouldn’t be any permanent damage to the chaise lounge,” he added, thinking that may have been contributing to Caleb’s anxiety. “I ordered some of the best cleaning supplies I could find. Veronique will be pleased. She’s consistently on me to purchase, and I quote ‘the supplies our antiques deserve.’” By now Caleb was looking around, his face getting progressively whiter. He took in the IV in his arm, the blankets spread over his lower half, and the slew of supplies Henry had to started to gather. “I’m going to throw up,” Caleb said, then proceeded to do so.

#wip wednesday game #wip fanfiction #wip writing #wip wednesday #my fanfiction #my writing #wip original writing #wip vashwood fic #yay words words words!

2 notes · View notes

bytedykes · 1 year ago

Text

wip game!

tagged by @princess-of-purple-prose <33 ty for tagging me! :D

Rules: in a new post w/ rules attached, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIP’s; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write three sentences in that file. If the file name is one you can’t share (for example, an event fic), write three sentences on it anyway, and then write three more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join, or just post.

my five most recently edited docs are:

5 times vash needed some SUN

fabiniku…………… dies

edgeworth and his phoenix obsession acting insane

mfw my boyfriend ive been dating for 6 months thought we were just boy best friends (he is dumb and i love him)

edgeworth has to plan for phoenix not to swallow the proposal ring

i like to name my docs with at least a vague summary/idea of what im actually writing so i dont get confused looking thru my files so ummm. yeag. #2 is the only one that isn't actually a real fic idea and just a doc for fabiniku related snippets lol

would absolutely LOVE to share something from #1 because the fic is hilarious to me but unfortunately i only have a few lines written. so from #5 which is a proposal crackfic and exactly what is says on the tin:

On the third sheet, he forgoes proposal planning and dedicates a few lines to comparing the visual appeal of Miles Wright-Edgeworth and Miles Edgeworth-Wright. Then he remembers that they had already decided they wouldn’t hyphenate, seeing as they work in the same field and it would most likely become confusing or inconvenient or both, and crumples the paper with a sigh.

He misses the wastebasket again.

I am a failure and Phoenix Wright is never going to marry me, briefly runs through his head, before he remembers that Phoenix is also a massive loser and they complete each other. Perfect. I am a failure and Phoenix Wright is obsessed with me and he will say yes and we will get married, he thinks. After so many years, this therapy shit is easy.

tagging @bi-demon-ium and @kar-krashew and idk who else to tag so if anyone wants to do this u can say i tagged u :) <3 once again TY FOR TAGGING ME !!! this was fun

#edited the rules a little bit bc i dont want this turning into a chain even accidentally<3 #tag game #wip #misc

7 notes · View notes

youngpettyqueen · 1 year ago

Note

☔🌧️

tyyyyyy sarahhhh <333

☔: Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

ive had an idea in my head for months now which is just a fic where the 4077 gathers for Potter's funeral. id actually thought a lot about it while I was doing my rewatch, but ive never written anything down for it because I want it to be like... this big emotional piece and im not sure how to get it there just yet

I remember I wanted the main focus to be on Hawkeye and Mildred having a relationship and him spending a lot of time with her. there was gonna be this big talk between them and some relating for some stuff I won't spoil in case I ever do write it. I also remember I wanted it to be from Hawkeye's POV, and dig into some post-canon scenarios. I think this was gonna be one where some of them stayed close, some of them didnt, there was gonna be some awkward catching up and talking, that sort of thing.

I do remember what the ending was. won't say, though. just in case

🌧️: Share something angsty from your WIP.

from my post-The Best of Enemies fic I hope to one day finish

Blood. Dried brown and crusty, covering his palms and fingers, scabbing in cuts and scraped. Charles turns them over under his scrutinizing eye and the picture is just as bad- Hawkeye’s got dirt and the same dry blood smeared up to his wrists, his knuckles scraped raw and red. BJ drags his eyes back up to Hawkeye’s face. He’s not looking at him, at either of them. His eyes are fixed on his hands, with this jarring blankness that doesn’t look right on his face. The shock is quickly overwritten by worry. Hawkeye only gets a look like that when something has gone very, very wrong.

#mash #fic bitching #IM CAUGHT UP HUZZAH #ty Sarah i had to root around for angst that WASNT Purple Heart WIP cause I need to stop posting from that and just write it #also yeah the Potter concept #been in my head for moons #maybe one day ill get around to it

6 notes · View notes

autumnalwalker · 1 year ago

Text

Snippet Share Saturday

Thank you for the tag, @late-to-the-fandom.

Passing the tag to @imbrisvastatio, @blind-the-winds, @silvertalonwritblr, @365runesoftheamalgamations, @cljordan-imperium, and an open tag for anyone else who may want to share a snippet (of any length) from your current WIP.

Here's a bit I wrote today from Empty Names. I had this idea stuck in my head of rapidly giving brief descriptions of a bunch of background characters a means of conveying the feel of a place rather than for the sake of the characters themselves being all that important to the story. Not sure how well that worked out, but it was a fun experiment nonetheless.

Later that evening, after having said goodbye to Sarah for the month, changing back into her usual red tracksuit, and calling to check in on Lacuna and Ashan, Eris is sitting on a barstool at 121813.

“Twelve eighteen thirteen” is the generally agreed upon pronunciation of the bar’s name, although what the name means is less agreed upon. The three most popular theories are that it’s either a date (usually speculated as either December of 1813), a scriptural reference (which scripture is a whole other debate), or a leftover address from before one of Crossherd’s major layout shifts. Lacuna had suggested it might be a tarot thing when Eris told her about it. The Hanged Man, the Moon, and Death. An ominous spread, according to Lacuna, but Eris figures it makes as much sense as anything else.

In any case, Fitzgerald Wilhelm von Harkenstein IV, the establishment’s clockwork owner, proprietor, and bartender always seemed to get too much of a kick out of the speculation to give a solid answer. Make what jokes you like about a bartender with no taste buds, but Fitzy had drink mixing down to an art. Then again, he claims to be at least as old as the city of Crossherd itself, so Eris figures he had plenty of time to practice if nothing else.

For over a century now, 121813 has served as the closest thing to a centralized organization for American monster hunters. Other parts of the world had holy orders, secret societies, and grand lodges stretching back generations, but in these parts everyone figured that a couple dozen thrill-seeking assholes who all frequent the same bar was good enough to get the job done. Most hunters usually work solo, but the bar is a good place to brag about kills, show off trophies, swap rumors on potential quarries, and put a band together if you get word on something really nasty.

It’s not peak hours yet and regulars are still trickling in, but there were already a few familiar faces there to greet her when she walked in twenty minutes ago.

Golden-eyed Gretchen who had taught Eris German and how to wield a spear.

Bai of the braided beard who had taken over Eris’s old garbage collecting route when she signed up with Road’s new venture and ever since has been alternating between thanking her for the job referral and complaining that he couldn’t take his axes with him on shift.

Wyatt, whose eyepatch is actually an AR visor to aim assist his crossbow and adjust for weight and aerodynamic differences on specialized bolts.

The green-haired enby twins, Loregahste and Lornega, who favor halberds and hammers respectively but both carry swords as backup sidearms.

Chuck in his ill-fitting trenchcoat, a relative newcomer to the game who’s already earning a reputation for going off on insufferable rants about the superiority of katanas.

The grim-faced Preacher, who never shares his name for fear of theft, never touches a drink that isn’t water, and never hides his disdain for everyone else’s choice of archaic weaponry for the sake of sport when guns were so much more efficient at completing the important work of slaying beasts.

Old Vic, the elven immigrant from off world who’s always down to party like the college kid his face looks the age of.

Plus a handful of others that Eris either isn’t all that close to or doesn’t recognize at a glance. High turnover rates have always been an unspoken truth amongst the monster hunter community. It’s been said that there are five fates that await hunters.

One: You die early from a stupid mistake, biting off more than you can chew, or just plain bad luck.

Two: You finally catch up with that one monster that was your reason for taking up the hunt to begin with, and if you survive you walk away, vendetta done.

Three: You have your first near-death experience, confront your mortality, and make the wise decision to get out.

Four: You have your first near-death experience, confront your mortality, and realize you’re hooked on the hunt that will surely kill you one day more than you are on living a long life.

Five: The hunt gradually becomes your whole life and personality until one day you hit a tipping point that causes autogenesis to kick into overdrive, transforming you into a monster yourself in need of putting down by your former comrades.

Everyone at the bar tonight - except maybe Chuck and the other newbies like him who still think they’re invincible - has long since made their peace with the idea that they’ll probably be dead by forty. Fifty tops. Other than Old Vic, of course, who’s at least twice that age, but rumors that he’s already secretly met the fifth fate have been flying around since before Eris ever found Crossherd and 121813. Having been on a funerary hunt with him herself and seen what a hunter consumed looks like, Eris doesn’t put any stock in that speculation.

#snippet share saturday #tag game #writeblr #my writing #writers on tumblr #writing tag games #empty names #Lacuna may or may not be right in-universe about the meaning behind the bar's name but that is the meta explanation of how I came up with i #It's also a very roundabout Bloodborne reference with all the Moon and Hanged Man imagery/motifs in that game.#Loregahste and Lornegna are based on my Bloodborne and Monster Hunter World characters respectively.#Fitzgerald Wilhelm von Harkenstein IV is very loosely inspired by vague memories an old D&D character of an old friend of mine.

4 notes · View notes

carolrain · 2 years ago

Text

Fragment Friday

Thanks for tagging me, @mostlyinthemorning

Rules: Pick five fragments from your unfinished WIPs and then tag five people to keep it going. Let’s have fun with it and help each other shape those fragments into published fics!

—

Okay, I dug deep into my notes for these, and I’m not sure what’ll become anything. Also, they are too long, but if this is all you're getting, here, have the complete paragraphs:

It will be okay in the end. If it isn’t okay, it isn’t the end. David hoped that meant, like, they’d be able to sort things out by the end of the week. Or month, maybe. Not that, like, Earth would be okay once the humans died out and moths the size of dinner plates and skyscraper ferns took over again.

When the others stopped for a moment to get their water bottles, Patrick had bolted for the hammock. He thought everyone would want to be there, and they’d end up fighting over it and flipping it, all of them landing in a pile of limbs and bruises. Instead, he found himself swaying alone for a moment, then suddenly joined by the birthday girl, pawing at his side impatiently until he picked her up and lay her facedown on his front. He remembered her laughter, her hot breath on his neck, her ponytail making his face itch, her sweaty back that he didn’t want to touch, but he had to so she wouldn’t slide right off of him and on to the ground.

III

“I don’t think I have any opinions on menopause, Mom.”

“Come on, David, you have opinions on everything.”

“What’s there to have an opinion on? It exists. Like climate change, or rabies. It’s not controversial."

One of the best things about being a mother to a daughter is that you can talk to her about anything. That’s what Jocelyn had told Moira, anyway. Jocelyn herself didn’t have a daughter, but she taught a lot of daughters at her school and she knew their mothers. Also, Jocelyn watched a lot of Lifetime because it empowered women. Moira had been a daughter to a mother once, for a few decades even, but she didn’t remember them sharing a lot of secrets.

She and David had gotten off to a rough start. He was born early, unexpectedly, before they’d bought a crib or picked out a name. Johnny had inked in the “David” on the birth certificate form and then left it by her bed. She was still groggy and unsure, even though he was a couple of days old. They had taken David to the NICU and then, a day later, to another hospital with a better NICU. Moira was left behind waiting for her blood pressure to go down, oscillating between two middle names. Her first acts of parenting, she thought, if she let herself think about it, were acts of failure. She failed to keep him safe inside her, she was not in attendance when he was packed up for the ambulance and driven off, and she forgot about the blank line on the paperwork. Johnny was the one who sat by David’s incubator and watched him breathe, encouraging him with stories and pets on his patchy dark hair. Moira thought of him as Johnny’s child, not really her own yet.

—

That last one is more just my head canon than Moira's voice. <shrug>

—

Tagging @mammameesh @rosebrewerj and @jamilas-pen

#fragment friday

10 notes · View notes

foxys-fantasy-tales · 2 years ago

Note

Made to taste?

Here's a bit about the WIP Made to Taste! Only a month or so before I enter a full read through and edit, then final edits. This doesn't take me near as long as drafting does, so the book should make its October 2023 release date!

Made to Taste (WIP)

Made this placeholder cover in Canva, may or may not be final cover

(critique of racial relations and capitalism, LGBTQIA+ Rep, monsters and mayhem, dark boy and maybe not sunshine but optimistic girl, meet cute, Terrible CEO villains, small business owning woman protag, magical races in modern day, first kiss, ferris wheels, cute confessions and fluffy moments mixed with helping one another during awful ordeals, they were roommates)

Status: Possible series in the works. Book one draft is complete and editing begins soon. Book two draft in progress as well.

Genres: Urban fantasy, Romance, Paranormal Audience: Adult, maybe YA Length: Not yet complete - Book One possible in 2023

When Lyra Morley accepted a rough and tumble new hire from her bar, she didn't think he would end up her new roommate in a week. Noel Akatash brings his own debts, and the people holding the accounts aren't to be trifled with. Magical home invasions aside, Lyra is more worried about her business serving the city nightlife any food she can handle all made to order.

Cooking with a halfbreed's sense of smell comes with its perks, and one of them is that she can hide her skills in the kitchen so no one is any wiser about her true nature. The night-only diner called Made to Taste is meant to be a haven for those the city would rather keep buried. Lyra, the pacifist and abstinent dhampir, would fight to keep it safe. Good thing Noel knows a thing or two about being scrappy.

Now that you know about the story, I'll choose to share an excerpt.

He was close enough he felt her shiver. He was going to make the IV upset, but he pulled out what was in his arm. His jacket was draped across Lyra before settling back in. "If that's not enough I'll get closer to you," he said bluntly. He shut up the alarm and settled. No one wanted to deal with the crazy demon that near caused a shootout in the hallway anyway.

"You did drive the doctors away, and likely the nurses too." So no new supplies until they had to. Noel had that partially covered. She watched him reach through the void at their mutual boredom and retrieve one of her romance novels from home and a thermos full of soup.

She slapped the spine of the book on his leg. "I thought you said the void didn't like you much? You still use it a lot, even with the effects."

"Just cause it doesn't like me doesn't mean I can't smack it around," he replied. “A little blood and headache is nothing." He wiped off red from his nose. “Though I won't use it to like, uh... fight the gods or anything. It's a very delicate balance."

He didn't get so much as a chuckle. A bookmark was taken from the middle and laid on the blanket between them as she continued her tale from their bookstore reading session. Her blood pressure and heartrate fell low again, enough so the machine started to complain.

As it beeped, it drew the demon's concern back to her. He looked up to see if anyone else was coming along. "Um. Lyra, I know books are relaxing, but fuck. Are you sure you're okay?" He glanced back at the monitor. It beeped once every few seconds it seemed. "That seems wrong," he said nervously, eyes locked to the small mountains that jumped up in too few motions.

She looked up. Oh no. "Uh, it's, it's fine, really. I um, usually run low."

He hummed at it. "There's almost definitely something wrong with your circulatory system then. I know you don't have insurance but Rowan's bankrolling this. We should really get you to see someone."

"R-Right." She couldn't very well deny the virtue in that, if she hadn't tried it once before herself only to get stupefied looks and bills that took her years to pay down. Noel didn't know a lot about the norm for human vitals, not that it would actually help in her case. He couldn't know. No one could.

The hesitancy bothered him. "You don't have to if you don't want to. I'm your roommate not your keeper."

"I'd really rather not." The words rushed out much too fast, but she couldn't care. The relief was palpable. "I've tried before and it was nothing but bad." She nearly ended up a research participant.

The flare of her Fade was awful splinters of cold blue fear struck through the flickering yellow of her base. Yellow. It was always a color that meant happiness to his eyes. Whatever weird thing Roseanne did, he was still feeling some of the after effects, or maybe it was the morphine dripping through him. He saw what the nurse put in. They all wanted to make him docile. All it did was make him relaxed and vaguely affectionate. He wanted to say more for some reason. Instead he asked, "What happened? I told the docs that you were hesitant about doctors. I just kinda figured that from the fact that disabled people tend to be as a rule. Was there anything um, specific I guess? Anything I should be worried about or know?"

"Disabled? I'm not, well..." She closed her eyes to the blinding white of the room and tried to relax. "They told me the facts of what the tests said, but they couldn't tell me why after so many trips, so many needles, and so many hours just waiting. Then, they wanted to put me in studies for more of the same, all the while saying 'maybe' this will lead to something. Maybe we'll find some weird drug to help, but nothing ever truly did. I got tired after years of it. I just... I couldn't handle the disappointment anymore, the stares, the people annoyed, disbelieving, or overly intrigued by me."

"Yeah. There's a word for that," he chuckled. "Disabled. When you're sick and it won't get better, and no one seems to know why is a common bonus. Especially for Nightkin. Bastards... I guess I get it though. In my own case, you get a drop of demon blood and suddenly every witch in the tri-state area wants a piece," he sighed and shrugged. "Nothing your parents can say either about it?"

"N-No. I said I didn't have a good um... Mom died when I was five and I haven't talked to dad at all since I turned eighteen. He sort of kicked me out,” she said with a diminishing shrug.

"Oh. Bitch," he scoffed before a light flicked in his brain. "Ah. That's why you took me in." He grinned.

"Huh? It's not a negligible reason I guess. I never thought of it that way. I just wanted to help out.”

"Course you did. You've had a rough go of it and you wanna make sure no one else does. It's a remarkably fleeting quality in your species." He stared at the panels on the ceiling. He tried to reach his hand up to stretch, but it fell back to his side. The void still had him exhausted. "But not like we're much better. Kindness is universal, as is cruelty. I dunno. I hit my head really hard. I'm not speaking like I'm used to. I kind of feel....younger almost." Noel took a deep breath. Whether it was due to the presence around him or the meds still floating within, in either case he felt lighter. "Anyway. I'll be out of here first probably. I'll make sure the ship's ready for you."

A smile twitched onto her lips. Her species, right, whatever that was. In the end, she was alone in that too. Lyra rested her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "I appreciate it, really. See? You give right back. Not a charity case at all. You're too stubborn to be."

He chuckled and nodded. "Damn straight. I have too much in me to just take. I have to give back. I'm immortal, powerful, and was at one point wealthy. When you have gifts it is your duty to share them, I say. Listen to me. Sounding all educated."

"You certainly sound less like the man who walked in bloody off the street and scowled at me for giving him extras on his fries for free,” she teased.

He scoffed and settled back in the bed, trying to muster up his fury, his rage, his indignant purpose. He found none of it. Instead there was only a soft feeling that he imagined to be yellow in him as well. Anger ignited in his breast again. How cruel it was to be able to see all the colors in the world except his own. Rage died as he looked back at her. "When you're not being a pain in my ass, you're surprisingly calming I guess. I've only known a few people like you before who have this effect on me. Rowan's one of 'em." He shifted his focus to the TV. "I've now decided you can't die." Lyra's chuckle cut over a kiss shared on screen. Music swelled, but she wasn't paying any attention. It did cut off the sound of the monitors enough that she felt normal for a moment. "I don't know if you're that powerful, but I appreciate not dying yet. Thank you for helping me." Her eyes were starting to droop again from all the medicine in her system. Drips from the IV were few and far between. They would be shooting her up with more soon, surely. As she slumped, her head ended up on his shoulder. "Take as good care of...Sheryl and...Rosie. The captain will be back on ship soon. I promise."

#long post #wip excerpt #made to taste

2 notes · View notes

yourmidnightlover · 3 years ago

Text

ours

Summary: spencer breaks things off just before you tell him important news, only to run into you months later to find that you're in danger from an unsub.

Content Warning: pregnant reader, unsub kidnaps/kills pregnant women, death, anxiety, vomit (reader), canon typical violence, birth, suggestiveness (16+), language, kissing, angst, fluff. *please let me know if i missed anything*

WC: 7.8 k

A/N: this piece is a bit suggestive so i'm gonna go with 16+ with this one. nothing explicit is stated or described, but it hints heavily at it. just for my comfort, 16+. i haven’t been posting much at all bc ive been in this slump recently? i won’t bore you with the details but just know that college is kicking my ass. this has been in my WIP for ages because i don’t know how i feel about the ending, but here we are. please be nice? i hope you enjoy :)

———————————————————————

today was supposed to be the day you told him. you had already imagined his reaction, the bright smile that would likely adorn his face before he picked you up and swirled you around.

you had even planned everything out. you baked a hamburger bun yourself and placed it neatly in the oven, a classic - almost cheesy - way to reveal a pregnancy to someone. now, all that was left was to wait for him to get to his apartment from work.

a part of you might've been nervous about telling him, only you've known him for so long the nerves were just nonexistent. you started off as friends, around 3 years ago when he stumbled upon your bookshop. after two years had passed, things began to heat up between the two of you. nine months ago, the tension between you finally snapped and became something more sexual.

you hadn't ever clarified what your relationship with him was within those months - it was more than a friendship and just sex. the closeness between you had become something out of the realm of friends with benefits, only neither of you wanted to admit anything.

"spencer! you're back!" you smiled and greeted him with a warm hug, his arms gently wrapped around your waist.

perhaps you thought you meant too much to him. maybe things were muddled in your own mind. part of you thought that the friendship you harbored with him had developed into something more than just sex.

"that i am," he sighed. "listen," he pulled back from your arms, holding your forearms carefully, "we need to talk."

"okay...?" you questioned, moving your arms out of his grasp. "what is it? you're worrying me now."

slowly, you could feel all of the hope and happiness from the news you were once

going to share with him slip through your fingers faster than he did, himself.

"things with my mom are just... complicated, right now. i think it would be best if we just... ended this?" he whispered, toying with his fingers and looking where they intertwine.

"you don't sound so sure of that," you scoffed. "like us having sex is over?" you crossed your arms, wanting the clarification.

if it were only the sex that was over, you could handle it. you could handle trying to keep your hands off of him, even if it would be difficult. you could handle not kissing him when he wakes up and before going to sleep, even if it would be difficult.

what you couldn't handle would be not being in his life at all. tearing away the friendship you've built over many cups of coffee, brunches, and sleepovers. it would be like tearing a baby robin away from its mother, not able to fly on its own yet. spencer was your wings, and you weren't ready for them to be clipped.

"just sex being over would still bring the tension and chaos, y/n. you know that. i think we should stop... we should stop being friends altogether," he revealed, stepping back from you.

suddenly you understood the rage and confusion exhibited in everything you stood against. you liked peace, you maintained it. it was what truly got you into books, wanting to understand why so many people could be so cruel.

and now you understood.

you didn't want him to leave. you didn't want him to make you leave under a false presumption that you would distract him. how could he do this so easily?

"you're serious?" you felt that last ounce of hope drop from your hands. "so you don't even want me in your life?"

"that's not it-"

"that's what you're making it sound like!" you threw your hands up before running them through your hair. "you don't remember how much we've been through together? my mom's cancer? you being in prison?! does it all mean nothing to you?!"

"that's not what i said, y/n. please, don't do this," he pleaded, his eyes welling with tears.

"you already did, spencer," you scoffed once more before grabbing your purse, digging through it and throwing it over your shoulder.

"y/n..." he trailed off, you turned to face him expectantly.

maybe he changed his mind. maybe he would say this was all a terrible prank gone wrong. you stood there for what felt like hours, tears in your eyes as you waited for him to say something, anything. yet, nothing was said.

"exactly," you scoffed before placing his key on the in-table, turning once more to face him. "have a nice life, spencer," you slammed the door shut, and with the door, the chapter of your life with spencer reid in it.

—

you didn't contemplate this part of your life. part of you had thought that you'd wake up the next morning in spencer's arms and tell him about your nightmare. he would comfort you and tell you that he'd never leave you like he once had. but as the days past, you realized that dream was never real. it was a nightmare. your life was now a nightmare.

in said nightmare, you had to go through everything alone.

over the next 5 months of your pregnancy, you found yourself wishing you had someone to help you out. being 6 months pregnant and having nobody to help you with simple tasks like doing the dishes or cooking was wearing you out more than expected. especially when the morning sickness, that was supposed to end by the end of the first trimester, never ceased to wake you up in the middle of the night to early in the morning.

you've spent countless nights crying, wondering where everything went wrong. spencer's mom was always a sore spot for him, but you've helped him with her before. you've even met her - she loved you, and you, her. you just didn't understand why he decided to be so rash all of a sudden.

and to make matters worse, you were carrying his child. you had to go to the first appointment alone, two days after he decided to end things with you with tears staining your cheeks. you listened to their heartbeat, by yourself. you bought a crib, by yourself. you did everything this far, by yourself. everything you had imagined doing with spencer by your side - already knocked off of the checklist. alone.

maybe you shouldn't have gotten so excited of a life with spencer so soon. after all, that's why you were so upset. you never should've imagined he was in your life. imagining that would always bring on disappointment.

and now, wandering around a baby store for onesies in an attempt to cheer yourself up, you were completing another set of firsts without spencer. or were you?

out of the corner of your eye, you saw someone wearing one of the cardigans you always liked on him. it was red, a classic color that brought out the golden honey in his eyes. you couldn't help but investigate to see what was going on once you smelled a hint of the cologne he always wore. the smell of faint vanilla that was masked by a scent of coffee and old books.

only when you got closer, you heard his voice. and this time, it was actually his voice. the voice of the man that broke your heart. the voice of the man who didn't want you. the voice of the man who's baby you're carrying.

and then he called your name.

"y/n? is that you?" there was a tap on your shoulder, and in spite of your insistence to not turn around, to not reveal what had been going on the past few months, you turned.

his eyes widened once they landed on your stomach, "are-are you...?"

the audacity he had to force you to leave. he pushed you away. he ran you away. he didn't even give you a choice to stay. he didn't want to work things out.

over the last few months you've started to realize that you thought of your relationship as something totally different than he did. to you, it meant everything. you had grown to love him as more than a friend, which was never intended to happen. but for him... well, for him it was only sexual. it had to be. how else would he be able to let go of you so easily? he's always said he's been a blinker, yet with this decision he didn't even close his eyes.

and he wanted to know something so pure, and personal, and deep about you. he had some courage.

maybe if he had felt that bold during the time you spent together, you'd still be with him.

"i think you've lost the right to ask me any questions the second you ended things with me," you felt tears welling in your eyes and allowed yourself to wipe them away.

"is-is it mine?" he stepped closer to you, you stepped back away from him.

"what do you think?" you scoffed before turning away from him once more. "if you don't mind, i have to shop for my baby."

"wait! there's-there's a case. a new one," he grasped your hand, silently begging you to turn around. "i shouldn't be telling you this. but i can't-i-the unsub is killing single pregnant mothers. we think it has a religious aspect having to do with sex out of wedlock. please, just come home with me. let me protect you and-and our baby," he held your hand closer to his heart.

"what would happen to my baby?" you asked, finally turning to face him.

"the child is taken by the unsub, probably placed into foster care. but the mothers... they-they're always killed immediately after childbirth. they're taken three months before they give birth, just to get them conditioned to the new environment. please, let me protect you," he pressed a kiss to your hand, holding it with both of his as tenderly he would a child.

if you hadn't heard the emotion and desperation in his voice and thought of your child's life without you, you might not have decided to say, "fine."

"but only because i don't want my baby to be harmed," you confirmed.

—

"y/n, we've slept in the same bed before," he huffed as you laid a blanket and pillow on the couch.

"that was when we were still having sex, or, y'know, friends," you rolled your eyes.

"you're pregnant. if you seriously won't share the bed with me then i will sleep on the couch," he ordered, sitting down on the blanket you placed on the cushions.

he hadn't changed much about his apartment. really, nothing was changed. the poctures of his mother were still by his desk, his phd's hung above it. you were quite surprised to see pictures of you and him at the state fair, him looking at you smiling while you were fixated on a large cone of cotton candy, still displayed on the table beside the couch.

"i might be mad at you, but that doesn't mean i forgot about your back problems, genius," you reminded him. "i guess sharing a bed will be fine. just... stay on your side."

"deal!" he smiled, placing a hand on your knee before you crossed your legs to remove it.

you could only hope that doing this wouldn't bring any emotions back. after having all of those months alone, reflecting on your time together, you figured that spencer couldn't handle a serious relationship with you. if he couldn't handle the intensity and heart it took to maintain a relationship, how was he supposed to be able to raise a child with you?

"so... how've you been?" he asked once you were settled into the blankets on the bed.

"you're seriously asking how i've been?" you turned to face him on the bed with a huff. "well, let's see. i mean, with all of the baby's doctor visits, moving to a place with two rooms, buying everything i need for my child, all of the morning sickness, and trying to not break down any time i think about how i'm going to manage raising my baby on my own, i haven't had much time to reflect on myself and "how i've been." so please, don't try to make small talk with me," you rambled out with more attitude than you realized.

"why didn't you tell me? why didn't you tell me i'm going to be a father?" he asked in a tone that reflected his hurt, as if he had the right to say that.

"i was going to!" you sighed. "the day you ended things, i was going to tell you. i put a bun in the oven... i thought it was a cute way to tell you," you chuckled in attempt to calm yourself down. "i still have the pregnancy test back at my place."

"i-i had no idea," he placed his hand atop yours. "i'm so, so sorry."

"yea, so am i," you sarcastically added before wiping your eye. "i'm just gonna blame the pregnancy hormones," you both chuckled.

"how has the pregnancy been?" he asked, clearly showing his concern.

"hard. it would've been really nice to have someone there with me," you smiled sympathetically. "keeping up with the house and working and just carrying a baby inside of me is harder than it seems."

"i wish i was there to help you. i can't-i can't believe i wasn't there for you during a time like that," tears of his own flew past his waterline and down his cheek. "you don't have to say yes, but, if you'd have me, i'd love to be a part of yours and the baby's life."

"what about your mom?" you questioned with a bit of an attitude. "is she alright?"

"she's doing much better. it turns out you were right, she just needed to stay in the same place for some normalcy," he chuckled. "you were always good with telling those kinds of things."

every time he had entered her in a new study, moving her to a new, strange place, you would remind him that sometimes the best thing you can do for someone in a situation like hers is to just accept it. he never listened, he has always been stubborn. but you can't blame him, he just wanted what was best for his mom.

"i guess now i can just call it 'mothers intuition,'" you nudged his shoulder lightly.

"have you found out the baby's gender yet?" he whispered, probably afraid you'd experienced another first without him.

"no. i don't really know why," you furrowed your brows slightly. "it just didn't feel right. the envelope with the gender is actually in my purse. do... would you want to look at it? together?"

"really? you-you'd want me to look at it with you?" he questioned, sitting up in the bed.

"i think that's why it didn't feel right? you weren't with me," you shrugged before sitting up beside him. "i'll go get it," you started shuffling in the bed before he grasped your arm.

"let me, please," he begged you with his eyes. "i haven't been there for you throughout your entire pregnancy, the least i can do is get your purse for you."

"alright," you smiled, gently grasping his hand as an extended olive branch.

he returned with your purse in hand, a smile adorning his face as he crawled back on the bed beside you. you retrieved the envelope from the bag and held onto his hand tightly.

"are you ready?" he asked with a grin, looking at the smile you returned with a nod. "together."

"together," you repeated once more before you opened the envelope.

as you two looked at the sheet of paper, you felt your eyes well with tears. you trailed your hand from his hand to his arm before looking into his eyes. there was a click, like you both knew your life would be changed for the better.

"it's-i'm..." you trailed off, tears already streaming down your face.

his fingers wipe the tears from your face, letting them linger before you placed yours over his. slowly, you leaned in closer to him and let your hands tangle in his hair. as if the world didn't want this to happen, your baby bump apparently got in the way of your lips finally meeting. you pulled back with a chuckle, brushing your hair out of your face.

"no," spencer furrowed his brows before bringing you back in for a kiss, him leaning in further so you didn't have to.

all the air in your lungs was expelled as your lips met with an eagerness you hadn't felt in 5 months. your hands flew to the head of hair that you missed oh, so much and gently tugged on it.

"i'm not letting you walk away again," he rested his forehead against yours. "never."

"i don't know if i can do this," you confusingly stated, pulling away quicker than you had before.

he hadn't been able to maintain an actual relationship with you within the three years you knew each other. there was always something in the way, prison, crazy psychopaths that are obsessed with him and ruining anything good in his life, and apparently his own mother.

regardless, seeing him today and being put through so much stress in such a short amount of time has made you exhausted. you turned onto your side and quickly let rest overtake you.

"i-i need to tell you something," spencer whispered after a couple of minutes, only to realize you had already succumbed to sleep. "goodnight, beautiful."

he wrapped his arms around your torso, letting his hands rest atop the place in which your child rested, feeling the most content with his life as he had in the past 5 months.

—

the next morning, spencer had woken up at around 3:30 am to the sound of gagging. he ran into the bathroom where the sound had come from and saw you kneeling on the ground, holding your hair up as you threw up into the toilet.

"sorry i woke you," you sighed out after wiping your mouth. "you can go back to bed, it-" you were interrupted my more puke. "i'm sorry," you wiped the tears in your eyes. "i should've shut the door," you laughed humorlessly.

"i'm sorry," he apologized.

it was obvious what he was sorry for. for impregnating you and leaving you to fend for yourself, even if it was unknowingly. he was t there for you when you woke up every night in need of a toilet. he wasn't there for any weird cravings in the middle of the day. he wasn't there to hear the baby's heartbeat for the first time. he wasn't there to feel the baby's first kick. he was never there.

he wishes he was there. for everything.

"it's not your problem," you mustered up the courage to give him a smile. "i'll be alright. i've done this alone for five months now, i've got the drill down."

"let me help," he knelt beside you, gently rubbing circles on your back and his fingers through your hair.

"it's not pretty, spence," you furrowed your eyebrows. "it's actual vomit. it's gross."

"i don't care," he shook his head. "i haven't been there for your pregnancy at all. please, let me do this for you," he begged.

"you can't say i didn't-" he held onto your hair as your head was thrown forwards towards the toilet bowl.

"let it out," he held onto your hair and stroked your back, repeating kind phrases. "you're doing so good," "i'm right here."

after you had finished, he washed your face for you and left you to brush your teeth. once you were done, he returned with a cup of fresh chamomile tea.

"tea?" you questioned as you grasped the warm mug.

"it'll soothe your nerves and help you sleep," he informed you with a smile.

"you didn't have to..." you reminded him as you took a sip of the liquid.

"i guess i just feel... guilty," he sat down on the bed, facing you. "i mean, i haven't been there for you at all. if i hadn't been so... childish, i would've been able to experience everything with you and helped you through everything. i just... i'm so sorry," he held onto your hand as if it were him holding your heart, guarding and protecting it as he had failed to in the previous months.

"i know," you smiled before pressing a kiss to his cheek, placing the now empty mug on the bedside table, and turning to fall asleep once more with spencer's arms wrapped around your stomach, pressed against the unborn child you shared.

you awoke with someone peppering light kisses on your neck, the scruff tickling your skin softly. you laughed and reached behind you to grasp spencer's chin, turning his face towards yours and pressing a light kiss to his lips.

"good morning, beautiful," spencer smiled against your lips.

"good morning," you chuckled before getting out of bed, stretching and cracking a few bones in the process.

"is that new with pregnancy? the cracking?" he questioned, stepping onto the floor himself.

"yup. turns out the extra weight really affects your bones," you sarcastically added. "i've gotten used to it. i think it's worth it."

"well," he walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your torso, resting his chin on your shoulder, "i think you're worth it."

"flattery, dr. reid," you lightly laughed before turning around in his grasp. "you have a case to solve and i have some baby shopping to do. so, i think it's time we part ways once more."

"oh..." he whispered softly. "right. will you be back tonight?"

"if you haven't caught the unsub, i guess," you shrugged. "if you still want me to come back."

"of-of course i do," he insisted, grasping your hand before giving you a kind smile.

throughout the day, you conveniently had off, you had bought all of the new onesies, paint for the room, a new baby blanket, stroller, and new pacifiers. having a baby was far more expensive than you had thought beforehand, but luckily you had savings to use for the supplies.

you would only have to kiss your dream wedding goodbye, not that you would have one either way.

having a child would likely destroy your appeal towards any man. you've come to terms with having no social life and no more energy. but you've also come to be excited with having a child. raising them alone would be difficult, but you've already figured out a day care that would give you a discount so long as you supply them with children's books to read to them.

and you were back in that same baby store to buy some more diapers, especially after forgetting to buy them during the day. you had just gotten back outside of the store with three boxes of diapers in hand when you felt something over your mouth.

and then it was black.

—

you had just left spencer's apartment, also leaving spencer confused. you had gone to sleep on such good terms, he didn't understand why you were being distant when you woke up. you had even kissed him good morning and then you don't want to even come back to his place? after last night? finding out the gender of the child you shared and now you acted as if it didn't happen.

then again, you had gone through hell, alone, because of him. who was he to judge you for being fickle towards him?

he had been through hell in the past few months. he had been so stressed and thought that it was better to not drag you down with him. truth is, he knew that if he stayed with you that you would've helped him with his mom. if you had done that, he would'nt have been able to deny his feelings for you. everyone knows what happens when someone in the bau finds a special someone, they're always targeted by someone. now, here you were, being targeted by an unsub regardless.

he kept your pictures up around his apartment in hopes that the pictures would be able to allow him to forget that you were ever gone. it didn't work in the slightest. he left your side of the bed untouched. sometimes, he would take the sweater of his that you would always wear and cuddle with it when he had trouble sleeping.

and now he couldn't focus on his work. he couldn't focus on the case. all he could think about was you and whether or not you - and your baby were safe.

"spence, seriously," jj sat beside him at the round table. "what's going on? you seem so distracted today."

"y/n..." he sighed, finally allowing himself to indulge his peers into what was truly going on in his personal life.

"you saw her?" she nodded. "that makes more sense."

"not only did i see her," he chuckled. "she's-she's... pregnant. it's mine."

"but it's been-"

"five months. i know," he nodded. "i had no idea until yesterday. she-she went through everything alone because i couldn't handle-i couldn't handle anything."

"spencer..." she sighed, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"it's terrible timing, truly. i mean how often to we get a case involving pregnant women?" he scoffed as he thought about the odds, if he weren't able to save his love.

"guys," derek barged into the room. "the unsub took another woman."

"again?" spencer furrowed his brows. "they already took someone two days ago."

worry.

fear.

anxiety.

all rushing through his veins quicker than they had when he had been kidnapped. quicker than when he had been shot. quicker than when he watched his own friend die in front of him in prison.

"kid," morgan lowered his voice. "it's y/n."

and those great, once irrational fears, were confirmed to be the most rational.

"no," he looked towards jj. "it can't be her. i-i just got her back. i can't-i won't lose her again," he shook his head in disbelief.

"you won't. we won't let you lose her again," jj tried to comfort him, knowing almost nothing would work aside from seeing her face and holding her in his arms.

he stayed at the station working on the profile as morgan and jj went to the scene of the crime. part of him felt surreal. like this wasn't happening. he would wake up tomorrow and have you wrapped in his arms, the last 5 months would just be a weird daydream.

you would console him and tell him that you'd never leave. you'd tell him that your baby was safe. you'd tell him that you were safe.

everything added up the more they investigated. it would be a woman who was extremely religious, taking "bastard babies" and putting them into foster care for their own good. she would have been born out of wedlock herself and not have a stable household - most likely childhood abuse with the mother's boyfriend(s). she would be in her early to mid thirties.

now they just had to apply the geographical aspects to the search and narrow it down. easy peasy.

y/n had been gone for 15 hours now, and spencer hadn't been able to think about nearly anything but that.

"you can't go," hotch ordered. "you're too attached to the case."

"that's exactly why i have to go!" spencer argued with hotch. "it's my child. if i can't ensure their safety i will never be able to live with myself. surely, you understand that."

"reid..." hotch sighed, rubbing the temples on his forehead. "get in the car."

the drive there was filled with spencer's jittery leg and the worries of everyone in the car for not only your life, but also for spencer's own well-being. he hadn't been able to tell you the most important thing, other than your child, before you went to sleep.

he was never able to tell you how he loves you and how he would never stop.

that's the first thing he would tell you after he ensures your safety- and the baby's. he would hold you in his arms, breathe in your scent, and confess his love for you. the love that he's held for you for over three years.

as the car was placed in park, orders were thrown around, but all spencer could think about was you.

seeing you.

touching you.

hearing you.

loving you.

just... you.

so he barged into the house right behind morgan, gun raised high as he went down to search the basement. nobody could imagine the drop of his heart as he saw your face, only your face being held by the unsub, lilly johnson, at gunpoint. your eyes had told him how you haven't yet given up hope of being saved.

she chuckled in your ear as she pressed the gun further into your temple, "do you know how god feels about a bastard baby like yours? it's destined for hell," lilly growled. "any last words for our lover boy here?"

"i-i know we haven't been in touch for a while," you sniffled as she pressed the gun further into you, her arm tightening around your stomach. "but, just-just know that i-i love you. i always have - so does our daughter."

"oh, how touching," the woman added sarcastically. "too bad the little one will never get to meet the absent father."

BANG

you saw your life flash before your eyes. you felt every emotion you had felt. you felt every touch you had experienced. every smell, every sight, every heart was going through your mind like a flashback. waves of autumn and spring broken apart by winter and summer, warmth and life and loss and death. a kaleidoscope of memories and colors flashing through your brain, making it hurt more than it already had until it was black.

he couldn't focus. he couldn't stand being in the waiting room, not sure what was going on behind closed doors. he had shot the unsub. the only worrying factor is that you had been inches away from where he had shot, and then you had fainted.

he ran to your body and caught it before you fell completely on the ground. managing to find a faint pulse, he was able to strip most of his worries away. until they strolled you to the back for emergency care.

spencer has had his fair share of losing loved ones. his dad, maeve, gideon, alex, the list goes on and on. throughout his losses, he's never felt as pained or worried as he had right now. perhaps it was the fact that you were carrying his unborn child, or maybe it was simply because of you.

finally, the doctor came out and announced your well being. you had managed to get a concussion, but both you and the baby were to make a full recovery. after gathering himself together, he might've cried from relief during that time, he made his way to your room.

you were lying there so peacefully underneath the thin blanket the hospital had provided. the bump from the baby you shared with spencer was just noticeable underneath the layers of fabric, it was a reminder of how lucky he was to not have lost you. your face looked a bit sunken in, most likely from the stress over the past couple of days. the main source of comfort spencer had received from your state was the steady rise and fall of your chest, the faint sound of breath entering and leaving your body. proof of life.

he sat in the chair right beside the bed and carefully grasped your hand in both of his, bringing them to his lips to press the faintest of kisses to it. it was almost as if he was worried his kiss would wake you.

"spen-spencer?" your groggy voice croaked out, wiggling to sit up before he pressed a firm hand on your shoulder.

"shh," he whispered. "i'm right here. don't move; stay still."

"i'm... i'm really sorry," you apologized, squeezing his hand in your much smaller one. "i never wanted this to happen. i should've-i should've just told you about the baby. i never should've ran. i'm so, so sorry," you reached your free hand up to wipe the tears from your eyes.

"don't apologize," he disagreed, shaking his head. "i ended things. i was immature and rash and pushed you away. i never should've done that. it's all on me. i love you, and i was so scared to say it out loud because part of me thought you would leave. but then," he scoffed, "then i forced you away anyhow and... and now we're here," he chuckled in spite of the lack of humor.

"you love me?" tears welling in your eyes allowed him to sense the gravity of his words. "or are you just saying that because you feel bad for me?"

"i love you," he clarified. "and i will never leave or let you leave until you force me away," he ran his hand through your hair, brushing a few strands out of your face.

"so when can i go home? i'm already tired of this hospital," you practically begged, beginning to play with his nimble fingers as you once had during your relationship.

"we should probably talk to some medical doctors about that first," spencer mentioned, admiring the stubbornness he had always loved you for.

"what? now your phds don't matter?" you mentioned with a laugh, the bright smile spencer had always missed now adorning your face.

"i'm so glad to have you back," he leant forward and pressed his lips to your forehead, his lips gently grazing your skin.

"seriously? i almost die and the best i get is a kiss on the forehead?" you scoffed, pushing him off of you. "i'm offended."

"i-i wasn't sure if you'd want me to uhm-to kiss you," he stumbled out.

"just shut up and kiss me, you dork," you smiled before placing your hands behind his neck, admiring the smile that rose into his face right before your lips pressed together.

"much better, doctor," you whispered against his lips when you pulled apart.

"knock knock," penelope greeted from the door, peeping her head inside to alert you all of her presence.

"hey, pen," you grinned at the blonde woman, waving her inside.

"so... baby?" she questioned as she made her way to the chair beside spencer.

"yea... baby," you nodded. "i'm 20 weeks along," maybe telling her more would lessen the hurt from not telling her.

"but that... spencer's the father?" her furrowed brows told you how confused she was of the whole situation.

"yea, yes. i'm the father," he grasped your hand tighter, looking towards you with a bright grin.

"oh my gosh," she gasped, still trying to gather her thoughts. "why-why didn't you say anything? you were apart for so long. i could've-i could've helped or done something to help."

"that's kinda why i didn't tell you," your head looked to the side as you sighed. "i didn't want your view on spencer to change, or to think that i was trying to trap him in a relationship he didn't want by getting pregnant."

"i mean, i guess i understand that," she bit her lip, clearly in defeat. "can i still be the godmother then?"

"of course, pen," you nodded eagerly with a laugh.

"oh! i was supposed to tell you that you're about to be discharged. hotch is pulling some strings to get you out of here quicker given your circumstances," she added, her eyes getting much wider as she explained.

"so..." spencer spoke up from the drivers seat after clearing his throat. "i was thinking that maybe... maybe you'd want to live together? i know it's really sudden, but if we're going to raise a child together, i think it might be best for us to be in the same place," he concluded.

"i just resigned for my lease. 5 years. i don't want to be moving all over the place with a baby," you explained.

"i figured you'd think ahead like that... which is kinda good because my lease is almost up," spencer revealed, looking over at you to gauge your reaction.

"i don't-i don't know if that's a good idea," you furrowed your brows. "i mean... last time we had a relationship you ended things abruptly and i wound up alone and frantic."

"that won't happen this time," he assured you, placing his hand on your thigh to comfort you further. "i promise that i will never leave you, or our child alone again."

there was a moment of uncomfortable silence, the kind that you hadn't felt with one another in an extremely long time.

"i-i suppose it would work," you nodded. "i could certainly use the help."

"i would love to help," he smiled as he noticed the grin beginning to grow on your lips. "even with the morning sickness and the body aches-everything. i'll be there to help."

"are you sure with the morning sickness?" you gasped in surprise. "it's pretty gnarly."

"everything," he assured you once more.

and help he did.

over the course of the next four months, he played the part of a doting father. he embraced it, even.

when you woke up three times in the middle of the night gagging. he would follow you to the bathroom with a cup of water and braid your hair or stroke your back. sweet nothings would be whispered in your ear, words of encouragement that told you how good you were doing and how you should keep going. he would give you space when you would brush your teeth and drink your water, but once you would return he would gently rub your back as he pulled you back to sleep on his chest.

when he would return home from a case, he would run to your arms, encasing you in his presence. he would bury his nose in your shoulder so he could breathe in your existence before he even got in the car with you. when the case wasn't the best, he would lay down beside you with his face right by your belly. he would place his hand over your stomach and begin talking to the baby as your hand would run through his hair.

"i will do my very best to ensure your safety. i won't let anything bad happen to you, princess. i've been thinking," you began to eavesdrop, "maybe i could stop working at the bureau and work full-time as a professor."

"wait," you interrupted. "you-you want to quit the bau?"

"for our daughter and you? absolutely," he smiled. "it's taken a toll on me for 17 years; i think it's time to move on - if you're on board with that?"

"i think it's a great idea!" you cupped his cheek and pressed your lips to his. "but you won't miss it?"

"again, 17 years is a long time. trading the extra time to spend with you would be the greatest thing imaginable," he assured you, one hand on the baby and the other one placed delicately on your cheek.

"i love you," you sighed softly and pressed your foreheads together.

"i love you, too," he connected his lips to yours, his hands beginning to paw at your bare thighs.

"spen-spencer," you grasped at his shoulders. "i kinda... i really... i'm..." you weren't sure how to word it, so instead you just pressed his lips to yours with even more passion.

"say it," he began peppering kisses across your jawline, noticing the way your breath still hitched at his movements. "let me hear you say it, please."

"i need you," you whispered. "i need you so bad, please."

"whatever you want, my love," he agreed before moving you to lay down on the bed, allowing him to pepper kisses down your collarbone.

and as you made love for the first night in months, you felt the passion radiating from his body. he cared for every inch of you, illustrating how he would be in the months and years to come. each touch was perfectly timed, each whisper of 'i love you' was spoken with truth. if spencer were the sun you were icarus. you had flown to close to him, but neither of you minded how perfectly you melted into his arms as you slept throughout the night for the first time in ages.

luckily, you already had a procedure in place for if you went into labor while at work. you trained another new employee and let your previous ones know that your due date was coming up, so they should be prepared for more hours than usual. it just so happened to be a paperwork day at the bau the day it all went down.

"yes," your voice rang over the phone. "spencer, i know it's a week past the due date, but these books just came in and people have already been asking about them. i have to get them sorted before any-"

"y/n?" he questioned. "y/n, love?!" his voice rose from concern.

"no big deal," you whispered, your voice shaky as if you were trying to convince yourself of the same. "my water broke?"

"have you been having contractions?!" he whisper-yelled as he stood up at his desk.

"i-i thought they were braxton hicks again! that's what they were last time!" you tried to reason with the genius. "i have my go bag in the car, thank god," you stated as you began rushing out of the shop, waving to your employee.

"what?!" spencer shouted. "you're driving yourself?!" he scolded.

"i don't see any other option, sweetie," you sarcastically reasoned with him.

"have your employee drive you! don't drive yourself!" he warned you before you turned to the worker with a pleading smile.

james only nodded his head, grabbed his keys, and helped you on your way out. you flipped the closed sign over before locking the doors.

once you had made it to the hospital, spencer was already in the waiting room with the rest of the team. anxiety was radiating off of his body as his knee was bouncing before you came into his view. he shot up from his seat and ran to you, encompassing you in his arms. the rest of the team sat there with smiles as they watched spencer finally relax a little bit.

"what took you so long? i've been waiting here for forever," he asked as he breathed in your scent.

"following the law?" you sassed before pulling back from the crazed man's arms. "how'd you get here so quickly?"

"following the law?" his voice rose in pitch. it didn't take a profiler to know when he was lying.

"sure you were," you rolled your eyes before another shot of pain went through your body. "okay... yea, she's getting impatient."

"she is your daughter," spencer joked before receiving a warning glare from you. he rose his hands in mock surrender before a nurse came behind you with a wheelchair.

"word of the wise," the nurse spoke up with a gentle tone, "it's smart to not joke around with someone who's about to deliver a baby the size of a pumpkin."

"right," spencer pressed his lips together as you tried to hold back a chuckle.

she led you to a private room - thanks to spencer pulling the "fbi" card. even though you had the extra privacy, it was torturous. until, of course, you were able to get an epidural. it felt like your vagina was being ripped apart - which is, in a way, exactly what was happening. it still hurt, of course, but it was a severely dulled down pain.

the team would come by regularly to check on you. they maintained a safe distance because they didn't want to feel the wrath of y/n in labor, which you understood.

when it was finally time to push, you felt the pressure built up. one of the worries women and doctors always had about getting an epidural is not knowing when to push. what a scam. your body knew - you were the one to tell the nurse you had to push. you took hold of spencer's hand and began crying out in pain.

"why the fuck did you do this to me!!" you shouted at spencer, cursing him out for making you go through so much pain. you both knew you wouldn't have changed it for the world. "GOD! AH!!" your face was lined with sweat and tears, spencer wiping them away before pressing a kiss to your hairline.

"keep going, love," he whispered with tears in his own eyes. he was positioned behind your shoulders, each of his hands taken by yours. "you're doing so great, so amazing."

"i can't," you huffed out. "i'm so tired," your head flopped to the side before spencer released one of his hands to cup your cheek, lifting your face to see his own.

"you've got this, love," he whispered. "you're almost there. we're so close to seeing her," he reminded you before you pressed one last kiss to his lips.

"she's crowning," the doctor spoke up. "one last big push, mom."

taking spencer's hand back in your own, you pushed one last time, probably breaking spencer's hands in the process. he would say how worth it it was when he saw the beautiful face of your daughter. tears were now streaming down both of your faces, enough to fill an entire pool.

spencer went to the side of the bed before taking your face in his hands, passionately kissing you. you held onto his forearm as you melted into his lips, feeling the utmost relief that you had just successfully delivered the baby you shared with the love of your life.

and that's the story of how evangeline diana reid came to be.

taglist:

@averyhotchner

@greenprisca

@muffin-cup

@spenxerslut

@spencerreid9

@spencyreidpls

@spencerreid9

@spencersmagic

@calm-and-doctor

@the-local-pendeja

@spencersrose

@beepbooptoop

@oeuryale

@pastelbabygirl19

@samuel-de-champagne-problems

@meganskane

@holding-on-to-my-youth

@beepbooptoop

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, please fill out the form on this link!

#pregnancy #tw pregnancy #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds

780 notes · View notes

royalydamned-archive · 2 years ago

Text

Second Chances

(Michael Demiurgos x Reader) - Part IV

<- Part III Part V ->

Summary: Angel in a human world, just like fish out of the water.

|AN|: "The next part is not gonna take months" lmao Barry shut the fuck up. At least we are moving a bit forward in plot, but I am not promising anything anymore with so many WIPs.

I wanted to include a bit more on here, but I don't know how I'm suddenly on 3.5k words and I don't want the parts to be too long. I do get a bit carried away, it seems like it's short and nothing really happened yet and suddenly we're past the 3k mark. Annoying.

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

There was something confusingly comforting in watching you eat. Other times, he would have found it gross, the whole concept of hunger seemed too demeaning for an angel – how your body controlled you, dictated you, with your mind defenceless to its demands.

You, however, held no annoyance in such act. Quite the opposite, it seemed like many humans took great pleasure in eating and sharing it was a gesture of affection. They truly weren't that different to animals.

Slowly you slid you plate towards him across the table, encouraging look in you eyes. "Want some?"

Michael scrunched his nose and shook his head in response. "That's gross."

"You're gross," you scoffed and pulled the plate back to you. "Do you even like anything?"

"Like food?"

"Like in general." He rolled his eyes, but as he thought about it, maybe you were right. Spending so long trying to be better than Lucifer, to prove he could do what he did, and do it even better, he neglected his own life. He built it around his brother, around nothing but recognition. For millenia he tried to be better than others until he lost himself.

"I don't know," Michael admitted, and you could see the shift in his eyes – once again solemn, remembering what once was and how to possibly get it back. "I liked home."

"What was it like?"

"Clean, bright, peaceful...complete opposite of whatever this is," he gestured vaguely outside, rather no looking out of the window into the dirty crowded streets and questionable individuals roaming them.

"I think you get fond of it after some time." A small smile played on your lips as you watched a couple pass by with a small dog in their arms, clearly tired from the heat, carrying it to spare it's paws from the hot concrete. Michael followed your gaze, his eyes going right through the scene that caught your attention, instead focusing on a man loudly screaming into his phone.

"Will never understand your stupid optimism."

"The same way I will never understand your unnecessary negativity." He narrowed his eyes at you, but you only smiled, getting another bite from your food without breaking eye-contact.

"You're eating very slowly," he said after a beat of silence, dodging the topic. It was clearly you got him.

"Trying to enjoy it."

"Why? Food is served to do satisfy a human need and sooth hunger. There is nothing enjoyable about weakness." He was serious, yet from the amused expression your face beared, it seemed like you took it as a joke.

"Hunger is a weakness?" You laughed and popped a fry into your mouth. Sometimes you made him wonder how you kept your high spirits and straight up irritating attitude.

"Clearly." You raised your eyebrows, urging him to explain the reasoning behind his words. Of course he confused your simple human mind. "Anything that can kill you is a weakness, and it's pretty easy to starve to death."

"You look at everything from the wrong angle."

"I look at everything objectively. And that is a fact." Michael watched you as you stayed silent, for a moment thinking he had won the little exchange as you seemed loss of words, but for the short time he had the displeasure of knowing you, he remembered not to underestimate you. Well, not much at least.

After a few second, you leaned closer to him across the small table that was dividing you, disregarding his personal space, and yet, he found it not utterly uncomfortable. Michael didn't trust, not his family, not anyone, let alone a person he met just a few days ago, who could stab him in the back for a few bucks for coffee – in his mind, he kind of expected you to – but as much any closeness and human contact made his skin crawl, he found himself leaning in as well. You were an exception. Against his better judgment, he met you halfway, curiously awaiting whatever thought in that mind of yours.

Michael watched you intently, following your hand as it grabbed a fry off your plate, bringing it to his face. You poked his lips with it, silently urging him to open his mouth and he could do nothing but frown, holding your mischievous gaze with his unreadable one.

"What are you doing?" he asked quietly, neither of you pulled back into your half of the table.

"Feeding you," you stated the obvious and shrugged your shoulders.

"Why?"

"I want to poison you with human food." A smirk creeped up into your face. You decided to play his game, willing to pretend you were befriending something supernatural, something that just didn't understand or know better.

"Very funny."

"Jesus Michael, just eat the goddamn fry." He just rolled his eyes and took a hesitant bite, knowing you wouldn't let him be unless he complied.

"So? How is it?"

Oily, oversalted and fake, he thought to himself bitterly, but the words didn't make it out and he cursed himself for what he said instead. "Alright, I guess."

"You hate it," you concluded, seeing right past his lie and he only had to comfort himself in the fact he didn't try to be believable. Otherwise he would have fooled you.

"I do," he admitted and a short laugh accompanied it, surprising both you an himself.

"Well, you're so far the only person I know who dislikes fries, but then again, you are not like anyone I've ever known."

"Is that an insult?" With a chuckle, you sat back, leaving Michael still leaning in, almost chasing the closeness from before, yet not realizing he sort of...missed it.

"No, I like how weird you are." He wanted to say something in return, as defense or put of the habit that had grown between the two of you, but decided against it. For a moment he let himself believe that you did like him. Nobody else ever had, and when you admitted he convinced himself you meant it, because he knew how to spot a lie. It filled him with warmth he didn't mind.

After that, he quietly waited for you to finish your meal, strangely enjoying the way you spent your time together, but he was not ready to admit to himself he didn't mind you as much as any other human.

"If you don't like fries, what do you say we go for ice cream?" You asked him after you paid, nudging him with your shoulder as you were leaving.

"No."

"Why not?"

"You've just eaten." Michael saw you open your mouth, sure that another brilliant argument had appereaned in your head, and spoke first, not giving you the chance to react. "And I don't really have any cash."

"How do you pay for the apartment?"

"With my brother's card, he won't miss it."

"Michael!" you exclaimed and grabbed his elbow to stop him from walking away. He turned to you, frowning, like he didn't understand what upset you about it. "You can't steal from your brother!"

"Why not? He stole a lot of things from me." Michael couldn't return home, he had lost his wings, his dignity, his family. He had nothing – no one – and yet, somehow, he was the bad guy again. Like he had always been.

No one, except for you, he thought and quickly shut down the irritating little voice in his head, the one that liked the way you held his hand, the one that believed you when you said you liked him. The voice that wanted to believe he had a friend.

What was this dadforsaken place doing to him after just a couple of days?

"No," you said and shook your head. "I know he must have hurt you, and you probably don't have the best relationship–"

"I hate him," Michael interjected bitterly.

"Well, alright," you looked at the man in front of you, uncertainty in the way the narrowed your eyes, as if studying him. "But isn't that one more reason not to be like him? Be a better man?"

"No." You closed your eyes and sighed at his response. Maybe trying to calm down? Think of a better argument? He couldn't tell, human mannerisms always meant something else and who was he to try and understand?

"So you still want to depend on him?"

"I've never–!" The angel stopped himself. Maybe he had depended on him, in some sense. He needed him to ruin something once again to prove he was better, but that was long gone. Michael no longer had a greater purpose; he was no soldier, no angel, no son. Just another man – human man – pondering over his life, trying to find the reason he was there. Alive. "Just take it."

You watched him fish out the card from his pocket and he angrily trusted it into your hands. The frown on his face deepened when he saw you flash him a bright smile, maybe he hated you for being right. That fit him quite well.

"Don't worry Michael, we'll get you a job." His face turned sour as he heard you say it, but knew that it was inevitable. He couldn't return home and as much as he didn't want to, he had to blend in, get used to the miserable life earth offered.

"Can't wait," Michael answered sarcastically and slowed down his pace a bit, seeing you struggle to keep up. You seemed to notice, flashing him a grateful smile, but stayed quiet, almost knowing he wanted it to go unnoticed.

"Well, I guess we can skip the dessert then. I'll go talk to Liam, he said something about needing someone to replace Steph after she quit." You started rambling about work and Michael didn't hear a thing. All he could think of, was how much he had truly fallen. The humiliation of working, like he had never been a soldier of heaven, like he had never been an archangel at all. Just another cockroach crawling around, in mercy of the wealthier, the more powerful. Submit or die.

"Not sure I follow," he said, absently looking ahead.

"In short, we'll work together. Different shifts, of course, but still. We'll be colleagues." Michael didn't understand the excitement, maybe it was solely human thing. He might even learn to be the same, over time.

The thought almost made him shrug.

"I'd...like," he struggled out and stole a quick glance your way. "to work with you. More than the other girl, that's for sure."

"Oh please, Zoe grows on you."

"Hopefully not."

Michael saw you smirk and something similiar passed through his own features as well. Just for a second. No matter how he tried to hide it, you saw. Without a word, you grabbed his hand, and to his own surprise, he grasped it as soon as he felt the skin touching his, letting you drag him wherever you pleased.

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

The pub was much emptier in the middle of the day, even more than late at night during business days. Most tables were empty, one of them was occupied with a single man, his face hidden in his elbow, clearly sleeping while a half drunk beer and a few empty shots laid by him on the table, it's wood drowned in spilled alcohol. He didn't seem to care about how wet his sleeve was from the liquor, just peacefully snored into his hand, which was the only sign that he was alive.

A bit closer to the entrance door, a pair of older men sat, ones Michael remembered from the night before. One of them, Harry if he remembered correctly, was pointing at something in the newspaper, ranting away with an irritated face, while his partner sat quietly, listening to him with a small smile playing on his lips. It made Michael wonder, how can one seem so happy with the other, while the only thing they shared in common seemed to be the bowl of chips in the middle of their table. It must be exhausting, being around someone so different all the time.

"You can sit behind the bar and I'd go find Liam, I'm sure he is somewhere in here." Before he could answer, you had gone somewhere into the back, leaving him standing by the entrance door. Thankfully, neither of the customers seemed to pay him any attention, so he sat down on one of the barstool, waiting for whatever comes next.

Back at home, he used to be convinced he was wasting his talents, that Dad was wasting his talents when he had made him to follow and submit, and not to rule. He was an archangel, a great warrior and smarter than any of his siblings could wish to be, they were the soldiers, they were meant to follow. He had been made to rule. Michael realized now, he might have been a bit less greedy, maybe that way he would still have been home, with his wings still a secure weight on his shoulders.

He was expendable. Not a son, just a figure on his father's chess board, one he could have replaced any time he wanted. And maybe he did want.

A strange pain bloomed in Michael's chest and he clenched his fists, nails digging into the skin of his palms, a poor attempt to distract himself from his thoughts. From the realization, that nobody had probably ever wanted him.

"I really dislike that sour expression on your pretty face." A voice came from next to him and he sighed.

"Hi Zoe."

"Hello handsome." Zoe hopped on the bar, sitting right beside Michael, a glass in one hand and a rag in the other as she quietly polished it while waiting for any reaction from the man next to her. For a while the only sound between them was the squeaking of the wet fabric against the smooth glass.

"I can hear you thinking," the angel said without a single glance at the woman's direction and she just laughed and jumped off the bar to put the glass to its place, almost dropping it at least three times.

"Just don't say it out loud, it'd be inappropriate." Zoe leaned over where he was sitting, inviting herself into his personal space and he straightened his back, trying to put as much distance between them as possible. "Am I scaring you?"

"I'm not scared," Michael snapped back, annoyed. "I just don't like people that close to me."

"You're the first person ever who doesn't want me close to them," she winked and stood back, some of her long, dark red braids falling into her face and she brushed them away. "I like that about you."

"Very strange thing to like."

"I like strange things." Zoe shrugged her shoulders. "My cat has no fur, I have a pink fridge and my first tattoo was a dolphin with a cowboy hat and two revolvers."

"Is there a point to this conversation?" Michael interrupted, fearing he would have to sit through a very long and unnecessary story of her tattoo's meaning, and he could only stand so much social interaction in one day.

The woman sighed, her face suddenly serious, and weirdly, he liked it better laughing and obnoxiously loud. Her silence seemed more dangerous. "You have to understand, I wanted to seem friendly, a lot of people open up to me, especially men, and as much as I do like the whole thing you have going on there" she wiggled her index finger in front of his face. "don't blame me for being alert. You have a face of a millionare, but act like an awkward schoolboy."

"The face is, I'm afraid, a personal touch of my parents," he gave her a forced tight smile, obviously lingered with irony, and she rolled her eyes.

"So your parents happened to make the almost perfect Lucifer Morningstar?" Zoe's black eyes narrowed, her long pink nails tapping rhythmically against the wood surface of the bar, and not even knowing how or why, Michael found himself being interrogated by a woman who had gems stuck to her eyelids.

"Yes," he answered quietly. "That happens when people have twins."

"Lucifer is your brother?"

"That's literally the only plausible and logical explanation. What did you expect?" She just shrugged again, like it was no big deal. As careless as his brother and equally devious, she was that kind of person he wanted to avoid. That kind with whom he had lived with for too long.

"Something more exciting. Like identity theft, face reconstruction. Things worthy of a movie." Michael looked past her behind the bar where you had disappeared, hoping you'd come back any second. As much as he wanted to believe you, that he would eventually warm up to the particular friend of yours, none of it was happening and the angel doubted it would be anytime soon.

"Sorry to disappoint then."

Zoe stopped for a moment, just quietly looking at him, and Michael fought the urge to squirm in discomfort. Amanediel used to glare at him the same; for one reason or the other, she was better at it.

"Zoe, dear." The woman's head snapped towards the couple sitting not too far away, where the man whose name Michael didn't know yet waved with a bright smile. "Can we get one more beer, and a soda?"

Zoe showed him thumbs up and pushed herself off her place behind the bar, walking towards the tap handles and passing them without a single glance. Instead, she reached into a fridge and pulled out two cans, delivering them to the already waiting couple, who started engaging her in a conversation as soon as she approached them. She, however, didn't seem to mind and even sat down on one of the free chairs, fighting for a word with Harry as they debated something he had just found in the newspaper.

Not too long after, you finally emerged, behind you a short chubby man trailed, a cigarette in hand and pair of square glasses resting on the top of his head, strands of greying hair tangled into their frame. He scanned Michael up and down, frowning deep in thought, the crease between his eyebrows as deep as a gash, and the angel dodged his intense stare, looking at you in question instead.

"Michael, this is Liam, the owner. Liam, this is Michael he–"

"Wants a job," Liam interrupted, waving you off with his right hand without a single look. Like you were nothing but an annoying bug. As if he was not the same, as mortal, as insignificant. Michael held back a scowl. "Do you have any working experience?"

"No," he answered simply, slightly enjoying the annoyed expression on the short man's face.

"Then why should I hire you?" he snapped and took a long drag out of his cigarette, blowing the smoke into Michael's face and he did everything he could not to flinch and cough.

"Your last one quit, didn't she?" Liam's face twisted and beside him, Michael caught a glimpse of your smirk. Almost proud.

"Nobody likes a smart-ass," the short man grumbled and stroked his stubbled chin. "You mean you never worked anywhere?"

"He helped with family business," you piped in quietly. "Travel agency."

"Travel agency," Liam repeated and snorted out an amused laugh, making Michael flinch as he almost sprayed him. He, however, ignored his disgusted face, like he seemed to ignore everyone at any time. "Fuck me."

"I served a long time in the army, didn't have time for career experience," the angel said suddenly, twisted delight spreading in his chest as he watched Liam's face slowly fall.

"It would be good to have some muscle around," he murmed to himself, eyes fallen onto the wooden floor and Michael knew he could no longer bear to hold his gaze. At least some of what he used to be wasn't truly lost. He still had the greatest weapon to use against humanity – their fear. "Where did you serve?"

"How is that relevant?"

"Fair. You're hired. You can start tomorrow at 4pm, but come to my office first, I want to discuss pay. And you," he abruptly turned towards you, his index finger almost poking your eyes out as Liam was closer than he had thought. "Show him the ropes. If you have any issues, figure it out. I don't want to know from you unless something is on fire, understood?"

"Yes, sir."

With that, he threw the butt of his cigarette into a nearby ashtray, and with a heavy step and loud breath, wobbled away. You and Michael watched in silence, until you couldn't even see his silhouette, and then turned to stare at each other for a few silent second.

"Do you remember when you called me a massive dick?"

"Vaguely," you responded with a ghost of a smile and Michael's right corner twitched slightly. "He rightfully took that place from you."

Taglist:

@chipster-21 @tea-effect @littlepeanut03 @spideysimpossiblegirl @flippittygibbitts @repostingmyfavs

#michael demiurgos x reader #michael demiurgos x you #michael demiurgos

75 notes · View notes