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lavandulawrites · 6 months ago

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Undeserving

Yandere Zhongli x reader

Zhongli is definitely a terrifying yandere. (Let me know if anyone wanna be apart of my taglist).

Synopsis: Zhongli takes it upon himself to rid the world of those who sin

Masterlist

Warnings: explicit violence,torn limbs, kinda gory, Zhongli is very possessive, Zhongli is completely feral, reader is not directly involved with any of the violence

Word count: 2223

Zhongli had always seen himself as a reasonable man. Even before he had taken on the name Zhongli. He valued respect and honour. Zhongli had always held a fondness for contracts and their power. He often preferred to negotiate rather than fighting. It was more proper after all.

It was however in moments like this, his polished appearance faltered and revealed the beast within that had slain many.

His glowed fingers loosened his tie before he elegantly slipped off his leather gloves. He placed both his tie and his gloves on the mantle on the unlit fireplace. He slowly turned to face the sinner that sat on his newly bought antique armchair. Zhongli’s skin crawled at the sight of that vermin who had made himself extremely comfortable in his beloved chair.

The man whose name was Haoyu sipped on a cup of pipping hot tea. He showed no care for Zhongli’s possessions and handled the cup with much carelessness.

Zhongli clenched his fists behind his back. Though a dragon was only one of his many forms, his bloodlust was still ever present. His fanged teeth clenched together as he recalled the days he had used those teeth to tear out his enemies throats. No matter what kind of form Zhongli took, his golden reptile like eyes and his long sharp fangs was something he never managed to conceal.

He walked over to the chair which was opposite of Haoyu’s. His steps no different from a stalking predator. With elegance he sat down and crossed his legs. He leaned back in his chair as he picked up his own cup of tea. He inhaled the aroma and sighed him delight at the delicious smell. The tea hot and intense as it filled his throat.

“Do you have any ideas for your brother’s funeral? Or any specific wishes for the ceremony?” he asked the black haired man.

Haoyu rubbed his goatee while he drummed his fingers on the armrest. “I don’t have any specific wishes. I just want to have him buried as fast as possible. I am a busy man you see” his voice had the same pitch as that of an squealing pig.

“I see” Zhongli nodded. “As for payment, the director wants to know when you are able to pay” he continued with an almost bored voice.

“Soon. I just need to make sure my next business deal goes well. So maybe in a week or two. Two is more likely” the bearded man shrugged.

Zhongli’s golden eyes narrowed before he chuckled. “Director Hu Tao needs the payment before Friday, meaning in three days. I have told you so many times” his smiled forced. The director of the funeral parlour was a remarkable young woman. Her youthfulness made Zhongli almost feel young again and he enjoyed her company. He acted as her counsellor and a kind of guardian. Though the guardian part was something that had happened over time.

Zhongli’s appearance was youthful and he looked somewhere in his early to mid thirties. Despite that, his wisdom was greater than all of the elderly in the city combined. He knew that Hu Tao suspected that he wasn’t human, but he never addressed it.

“I don’t think I will be able to” the middle aged man shrugged. He sipped more of his tea and didn’t notice how he spilled some on his shirt.

The former geo archon’s eyes turned cold. His finger stabbing the inside of his palms. “You will have to find a way. We can’t propound the payment any longer.”

Haoyu sighed. “Don’t be so difficult! I’m sure you’ll be able to do something” he winked his goat like eyes at the brunette.

Zhongli felt offended at the ugliness that sat in front of him. “No. I am not able to ‘do something’” his voice monotone. If Zhongli wanted to, he would be able to convince Hu Tao to propound the payment, but he did not feel like doing so.

The man sneered. “Fine” he groaned like the pig he was. He downed the last of his tea and slammed it onto the newly polished mahogany table.

Zhongli’s eyes twitched at the blatantly rudeness. He took a deep breath before he rose to his feet. “I remember I told you about my collection of tableware. I should give you a tour before you leave” he smiled politely at the irritated man.

Haoyu’s frown quickly turned into a smile. “Oh I would love that” he stood up and stretched his limbs, nearly knocking down his teacup from the table.

Zhongli led him to the room where he kept his various collections. Rows upon rows of tea seats filled one of the long walls. Haoyu stopped in front of a delicate purple clay teapot. He lifted it up from its shelf and studied it closely.

Zhongli closed his eyes in annoyance, but continued to play the part of a good host. He showed him his various treasures and Haoyu was overjoyed by the different riches.

Zhongli followed Haoyu out to the hallway. “Before you leave, I want to ask you something” his voice polite.

Haoyu raised an eyebrow. “Alright. Go on.”

Zhongli ignore his rude tone yet again. “I have heard that you are good acquaintances with [Name]” his voice as calm as still water.

The man smirked at his words. “Yeah, you could say that… She’s quite the looker” he laughed. His fat fingers clasped together.

Zhongli reminded silent. He’s face similar to his many statues that were scattered over the country.

At the taller man’s silence, Haoyu raised his brow. “Why are you asking?”

Zhongli walked towards a painting of a bamboo forest. His back facing Haoyu. “I do not like it when people get their greedy hands on what’s mine. It angers me. And very much so” his voice had a sharp edge to it.

He turned slowly to face him. “You are a foul man. You lack both tact and elegance” his diamond shaped pupils small in disgust. He stalked towards him with slow steps.

Haoyu slumped his shoulders at Zhongli’s fury. He gulped loudly as his back hit the wall.

“You are not worthy of [Name’s] presence. She has told me countless times that she finds you revolting” his rage cold in his veins as he looked down at the man who had sinned the greatest sin of all. His cold golden gaze flickered down to the man’s hands. The very hands that had touched his beloved.

“I-I promise to never speak to her or touch her ever again!” Haoyu uttered as he slumped even further together. His legs were shaking in fear.

His stuttering a clear sign of his cowardice and Zhongli found it humorous how his brutish façade was just only that: a façade.

The adeptus’ entire body was filled with the want, need, to spill the blood of the man who had crossed him. He flex his hands along his side and felt the welcoming power of geo that flowed through his veins. He raised his hand in a quick motion as he wrapped it around Haoyu’s neck. He slammed his head against his wall, not caring about his expensive wallpaper.

“All sinners must pay for their sins. You are no different” he spat. Zhongli’s eyes glowed a golden hue which was the main telltale sign of his non-humanity.

Haoyu desperately tried to defend himself, but the strong hand that held his neck only tightened. The sound of his struggling breath was music to his ears.

“Be quiet” was all he said before he dropped the man.

The bearded man quickly crawled towards the front door before Zhongli brought his foot down and kicked him in his ribs. The sound of bones creaking brought a small smile to the former archon’s face.

Haoyu screamed as snoot and tears streamed down his disgusting face. He loudly prayed to be saved by Rex Lapis.

Zhongli scoffed before he brought his foot at the nap of Haoyu’s neck. He pressed down, earning a cry from the black haired man. “Take his name out of your filthy mouth” he sneered.

He manifested his spear and pointed it towards the man who laid in a kneeling position on the floor. The pointed tip, glittering in the light. His polearm had been his trusted companion throughout many years.

“Get up” his tone dominating.

Haoyu scrambled up to his legs and clutched his side in pain. His dark eyes looked up at Zhongli in fear.

Zhongli raised his spear before he brought it down to Haoyu’s left shoulder. The spear pierced his flesh and made contact with the bone. Red blood splattered on the hardwood floor. Haoyu screamed in pain.

“AGH! Fuck! HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!” he screamed as he tried to stop the bleeding with his fat hand.

The brunette laughed at his pitiful cries. “No one will help you. They cannot hear you on the outside” his lips twisted up into a cruel smile. He had used adeptal arts to completely soundproof his home.

He stalked towards his prey and stopped right in front of him. His polished shoes soaking in blood. He sneered in disgust.

He rose his empty hand. His finger tips turned into claws which he used to slash through the neck of the sinner in front of him. Haoyu gurgled on his blood as he desperately clutched his throat. His eyes wet as they pleaded to the god in front of him.

Zhongli brought his bloodied hand before him. Torn skin was attached to his long black claws. He shook his hand and sent the skin flying towards Haoyu.

With a splat the skin landed on his forehead which resulted in him throwing up. Vomit spewed out from his mouth and the gaping hole in his throat. The sight was disgusting and Zhongli felt even more offended. The smell of vomit reached his strong nose and he crushed his inhuman sense of smell.

He reattached his claws and sat his spear neatly against the wall behind him. He crouched down to the dying man’s level. His godly eyes scanning his. “You brought this upon yourself” was all he said.

Long elegant fingers wrapped around Haoyu’s left arm. Zhongli waited till he was sure he was sure he paid attention. He then ripped his arm off with no effort. The tearing sound echoed in the hallway. Blood gushed from the open wound. It was going to be long before he died from blood loss. Zhongli tossed the arm away before he stood up.

“Stand” he commanded.

Haoyu struggled like a newborn fawn, but managed to stand. His appearance similar to that of a mangled corpse than a living human.

Zhongli brought his hand up to his chest. The power of geo poured out from his every pores and onto the man in front of him.

Slowly, but surely his chest turned into stone. Haoyu screamed as loudly as his damaged vocal cords let him. Zhongli was sure to be slow. It was important for him to feel the pain as long as he could.

His harsh eyes met the gaping hole in his throat. Tendons clearly visible. His vocal cords looked rather teared as well as his Adam’s apple which was completely damaged.

“You should apologise for your unkempt appearance” Zhongli had no humanity left in neither his voice nor eyes.

He reattached his hand. He made sure to make proper eye contact with Haoyu before he curled his hand into a fist. His fist drove into his face. Before he knew it, his fist had made a complete hole. Haoyu’s body fell limp against the floor. His face completely gone and replaced by a through hole. Brain matter covered the wall and stained his beautiful wallpaper.

Zhongli scoffed at the mess. He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and willed his hands. Th white pure fabric quickly turned grimy.

He was yet again glad for the adeptal art he was the father off. With a snap of his finger the whole hallway was clean. The hardwood floors no longer coated in warm sticky blood and the wallpaper no longer stained. The body was turned into stone which quickly turned into sand.

He brought a broom and cleaned the sand up.

He would sprinkle the sand in the garden in Haoyu’s family house.

He sat down on his armchair and breathed out. He was content with his work. The only thing missing was you by his side. He picked up the contract he had written. He would encourage you to write your name on it. Then your fate would be sealed and he would finally be able to sleep peacefully with you by his side. With Haoyu and the others who had been close to you out of the picture, it was only the two of you.

Just as it should be.

He took a sip of the rich wine and let the the liquid swirl around in his mouth. A soft smile formed on his lips. He had had the adepti make a beautiful red wedding dress with gold embroidered into the silky fabric. You would make a beautiful bride and he would do everything in order to protect you. He would even take his role as an archon again if the situation called for it.

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4unnyr0se · 7 months ago

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❥ librarian | chuuya nakahara

warnings: fem! reader, meet cute, chuuya is a flirt bc i said so, wined and dined, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, bedroom sex, hickeys, making out, hair pulling, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, rough sex, whiny chuuya, corruption kink(?), reader does not know how to dress to save her life, sugar daddy(?) chuuya, unironic lip biting, chuuya is one hell of a chef, dirty talk, reader reads smut, semi-proofread

MDNI | 18+ content

word court -> 4.7k

“Excuse me, could you keep your voice down, please? It’s a library…” was something that you said more often than you would like to admit. Sure, you only took the library job because of how insanely introverted you were, but that was neither here nor there. You thought that people would have more respect for a place that let you borrow as many books as you wanted, but nope. It was either filled with screaming children, teenagers kissing in the nonfiction section, or the elderly who didn’t know how to open their email accounts, bless them.

Other than the constant shushing (and the resulting glares you get from people you’ve shushed), the library job was nice. It was comforting, it had decent pay, and you got to keep some of the books that no one wanted to check out anymore. Hell, you even got hit on once or twice by freakishly tall men. Then again, all men were freakishly tall in your eyes. You fit the tiny librarian stereotype quite well, which your fellow librarians found to be adorable.

Standing in the true crime section, your heeled feet stood on a step stool so you could better organize books about mafia activity in past decades. It wasn’t a very popular section by any means, mostly because the locals that frequented the library thought that true crime a was bit too niche. You didn’t mind really, it just meant that you got to be on the opposite side of the building and away from the screaming children. Often you wondered what it would be like to be a witness to a mafia hit, how the adrenaline pumping in your veins would make you feel. Lost in your train of thought, you neglected to notice that you were slowly slipping off of the step stool, the backings of your high heels teetering off the edge. It wasn’t a steep drop by any means but it would hurt pretty damn badly if you fell.

Taking an ignorant step back, the back of your heel found nothing to land on. Yelping slightly, you spread your arms out and waved them back and forth in what was probably the world's weakest attempt at flying. “Oh shit-” you closed your eyes shut and braced for impact, hoping that you wouldn’t land on the sharp metal bookshelves behind you.

The impact never came. Instead, you felt a warm embrace of someone holding you. You opened up one eye carefully, your baby hairs covering your forehead.

“Hey, you okay?” A deep and raspy voice snapped both of your eyes open, your gaze landing on a head of ginger hair. The man smirked at you and let you down, making sure you didn’t have any scratches by scanning your body up and down. Or maybe he was checking you out, who knows?

“Uh, yeah. I think I’ll be fine.” You nodded, dusting off your pants. No scuffs on the expensive fabric, thank God. “Thanks for making sure I didn’t hit my head, by the way. Not everyone would do that.”

The man crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, giving you a questioning look. “You must work with some real assholes then. In my line of work, ladies don’t get treated like crap. At least the ones who everyone respects.”

“Seriously? Damn, that seems like a really good job.” You smiled at him, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear.

“Eh…it has some setbacks. I won’t get into it now, too much bullshit to unpack here.” He bit the inside of his cheek, holding out his hand for you to shake. It was gloved, he seemed like a gentleman. Or maybe he just really didn’t like getting dirt on his hands.

You smiled and eagerly took his hand, looking into his subtly blue eyes. They really complimented his ginger hair and pale complexion, hell, he even looked like the main character in a popular romance novel.

“Chuuya Nakahara, at your service.” He smirked once more, letting go of your hand. He noticed that your hands were smaller than his own, in fact, you were actually smaller than he was. And that was rare, considering he was in close competition with most middle schoolers in the height category. “What’s your name? I wanna know the name of the women I saved from eating absolute shit.”

You giggled and told him your name, putting your hands in your pockets. Chuuya thought your giggle was sweet, like a song bird. It was a welcome sound in his life. After all, Chuuya was used to gunshots and screams instead of the giggling of a cute librarian with a name that fitted her oh so right.

“You got a cute name, y’know. Hope you don’t mind me sayin’ that.” Chuuya placed his hands in his pockets as well, fiddling with the lintballs in the corners of the expensive fabric.

The silent was quite awkward between the two of you. Chuuya, a secret mafia boss who’s experience with women was tainted with expensive red wine. And yourself, a librarian who was so introverted that the world could end and you’d jump for joy.

And yet, something brought the two of you out of your own little worlds and into each others? Was it love, perhaps? Unlikely. Chuuya thought that love at first sight was for suckers, and you thought that love at first sight only existed in movies.

No, there was only unspoken desires between you both. Heart rates quickening, blushes forming on your faces. Chuuya’s mind was racing, his thoughts plagued by images of you. He just met you but god were you sexy. That fucking thrifted turtleneck sweater contrasted hard with your expensive designer jeans that were no doubt a Christmas gift from a wealthy relative. You had no idea how to dress and Chuuya thought that was the most precious thing. Were you really that innocent, locked away in your own little world? You probably had no idea that your sweater hugged the curves of your tits perfectly, that your pants showed off your thighs so expertly. God, it drove Chuuya wild.

What did your lips feel like, so plump and perfect? Where they untained, fresh as snow? Or were you just putting on an act, secretly a vixen behind that innocent and soft stare? Chuuya didn’t know, but he just had to find out. The redhead had only just met you but holy fuck, you were simply perfect. He had to get a taste, even if it was the last thing he did.

“So what’s a pretty thing like you workin’ in a place like this? Do they pay you well or somethin’?” Chuuya asked, leaning against the metal shelving that held the American history collection.

You shook your head and sighed, placing a hand on your hip in frustration. “Unfortunately no, I could really use a raise.” You sighed, running a hand through your comically messy hair. “The only reason I can afford my apartment is that my parents left me quite a bit of money when I said I wanted to live on my own. I’m a lucky person, I guess.” You chuckled at the last bit, flashing Chuuya a smile that drove him crazy. He faked a cough to hide the obvious lump growing in his throat, a tinge of pink dusting his freckled face.

“Yeah, you really are lucky.” He took a step foreward, placing his thumb on your chin, tilting your head up ever so slightly so his eyes met your own. “And you’re really fucking pretty.” He whispered, taking his hand off your chin.

“O-oh, thank you.” You stammered, fidgeting with your fingers as you looked down at your feet. The Mary Jane’s you wore wree slightly scuffed, they always have been. It adds a bit of character, one could say. Chuuya smiled softly and adjusted his hat, taking a step back to give you space.

“Listen, I have work that I gotta get back to or else my boss will kill me. Can we meet up at your place after that. Y’know, only if ya want to. I’m no pusher.” He blushed at the last part, rubbing the back of his neck to avoid making direct eye contact with you. It was strange, Chuuya has always been smooth with the women he met in bars. So why were you making him so flustered? Maybe it was because unlike the girls he picked up before, you were innocent. Pure, like fresh snow.

You were taken aback by his flirtations, though they weren’t unwelcome. You stopped fidgeting with your fingers for a moment, biting down on the plumpness of your lower lip.

“What, cat got your tongue or something?” Chuuya grinned, proud of himself for his little joke.

N-no, well not exactly.” You mumbled, sucking in a deep breath so you could look at the devilishly handsome man in front of you. “I’ve, God this is embarrassing, I haven’t been on a date since college.” Sighing, you stared at the bookshelf next to you. “It’s pathetic, I know. I get if you aren’t interested in me anymore.”

Chuuya frowned and took his hands out of his pockets, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t give a fuck if you’ve been on zero dates or a million of them. That doesn’t matter. I asked if you wanted me to come over so I can fuckin’ cook for you.”

“You can cook?”

“What kind of world are you living in? Of course I cook, what kind of man can’t cook?” Chuuya pinched his temple with his fingers, silently cursing all the worlds incompetent men that drove the standard to decency so low that it was practically in hell. “Sorry, didn’t mean to shout at ya. Old habits.”

“Don’t worry about it, I deal with screaming children all day. You’re fine.” You smile, taking out your phone. “Here, put your number in and I’ll give you my address.”

Chuuya shook his head, a bead of sweat dripping from his brow. “Actually, um, my phone is broken right now. How about you just write it down for me, dollface?” He couldn’t risk putting your information into his phone, what if Mori was going through it? He could deem you a security risk and then only God knows what would happen. Chuuya wouldn’t risk it, he had to make sure you were okay with his…business before he did anything too personal like give you his contact information.

“Oh, sure. I guess giving you my number is too personal, sorry.” You awkwardly chuckled, leading him to the main library desk. You ripped off a sticky note from the pad and wrote down your address in pretty cursive letters. Chuuya smiled to himself as he saw your handwriting, it was the cutest fucking thing. You were absolutely a librarian, no doubt about it.

“So, see you at seven?” He asked, shoving the sticky note into his jacket pocket.

“Seven’s all right. What will you be making me?” You asked, beginning to type away at the library computer.

“It’s a surprise.” Chuuya winked at you, turning around and walking away. You blushed and resting your cheek on your hand. In your mind you were dancing in happiness, finally having landed a date. And such a good looking one at that. Who the hell cares if he’s short, he’s tall to you. Height doesn’t matter anyways.

Your shift ended and you practically skipped out of the library building, clutching onto the messenger bag that carried your erotic novels. The library didn’t carry anything erotic, you just disguisted the books with false covers about local history and lore. No one would be into that shit, so it was the perfect plan. The stories consisted of fantasy romances with sections that were so arousing that you couldn’t read it without thinking that you were committing some sort of sin.

Stepping up the stairs to your apartment, you opened the door and shut it quickly as to not attract any unwanted pests. Mostly bugs, they’ve become a real problem. What would Chuuya think if he saw a bug in your apartment? Your mind was speeding, anxiety building up in your belly. This was your first date in a while, what if you fuck it up somehow? Or worse, what if it goes too well and he wanted to have his way with you. Chuuya was too handsome to refuse sure, but what about you? You couldn’t even remember the last time you had sex, let alone kissed somebody? Oh God, what if that turned him off and he never spoke to you again?

“Dammit, snap out of it!” You slapped yourself across the face, hissing slightly at the pain. Putting yourself together, you strode over to your bedroom and pulled out a dress from way back in your closet. It was a decent length dress with spaghetti straps, your fanciest piece of clothing. The rest of your wardrobe consisted of sweatpants, tank tops with cartoon characters on it, the occasional designer jean, and several thrifted sweaters that had absolutely been worn by a grandfather.

The dress slipped onto you no problem, like a glove. You didn’t bother wearing any tights or stockings, the dress covered your legs up nicely. You decided to just leave your hair as it was, draped nicely around your shoulders. Light makeup here and there, if you could count mascara and lipgloss as makeup.

Exiting your bedroom, your hands dropped to their sids as you sat down on your living room sofa. There wasn’t anything good on the TV, and reading an erotic novel before Chuuya got there would have probably ruined the mood for you. Was getting ready too early a mistake? Maybe.

Your eyes watched the clock, your pupils going in circles as the second hand made its rotation over and over again until it was about 6:55PM. A knock was heard at your door, snapping you out of the cycle of clock-looking.

Squealing quietly, you speed-walked over to your door. Taking a deep breath in, you opened the door and there Chuuya stood, holding a bag of groceries in one hand and a singular red rose in the other. “Hey there pretty girl, mind if I come in?”

“O-of course, Chuuya. Uh, sorry.” You stammered, shutting the door as he let himself inside. Chuuya stood in the foyer of your apartment for a moment, quickly noticiny the hundreds of books the lined the shelves. “I don’t know why I’m so surprised doll, shoulda known you’re a huge nerd.” He chuckled, handing you the rose. His outfit was not too different from that afternoon, only the hat and the jacket were missing.

“Thank you, it’s really pretty.” You blushed, placing the rose in a nearby empty vase. “So, um, what are you making me tonight? I’m starving.” You led him into the kitchen, helping him set down the groceries on the counter.

“Kobe beef,” Chuuya said nonchalantly, looking around the kitchen. “Where are your knives? Don’t see em anywhere.”

“In that drawer right there- did you saya kobe beef?” You gasped, taking a step back. “B-but that’s really expensive! This is just a first date y’know, I would have accepted take out!” You stammered, not used to the treatment. Did he really just buy kobe beef for you? How much does he get paid?

“Yeah, what about it? You a vegetarian or something?” Chuuya raised an eyebrow, opening the beef from its luxurious packaging and placing it on the simple wooden cutting board.

“No, it’s just that…well kobe is really expensive and this is a first date! It’s not even at the nice restaurant or anything, it’s my fucking house!” You whisper-yelled at him, walking foreward so your face was inches away from your own. Your shyness was replaced with anxiety, anxiety that you really had no excuse to have.

Chuuya smiled and patted you on the head, rubbing on your hair with his gloved hand. “Don’t worry about that princess, just have a seat and let me cook for you, yeah?” He assured you, gesturing to your kitchen table. “And besides, you’re dressed up like a five course meal, so shouldn’t you be treated to one?” He smirked, finishing up the chopping of the beef. He figured out how to work your stove pretty quickly, placing the beef in a pan with a little bit of truffle oil. The stove roared to life as the beef began to quickly sizzle, a wonderful aroma that smelled like luxury filled your apartment.

You blushed at Chuuya’s comment, sitting yourself down in the chair. You watched him cook, his brows furrowed in concentration.

The beef was done cooking after a bit, being carefully plated with an array of incredibly looking vegetables. Chuuya sat across from you and took your hand in his own, kissing the back of yours tenderly.

“Bon appetit, princess.” He grinned at you, his eyes hiding a lust that was so extreme Asmodeous himself was jealous. He observed how you ate the beef so carefully, so tenderly. You savored each and every bite, sighing occasionally as the flavors hit your tongue over and over again. Chuuya bit his lip as he watched you eat, barely touching his own dinner. You looked absoltuely succulent in front of him, oblivious to how you were making him feel. Chuuya wanted to shove everything off the table and fuck you right then and there, but he decided to be a gentlemen about it. Dine you, maybe wine you, and only touch your pretty body if you wanted him too.

You finished your meal quickly, frowning to yourself at Chuuya’s full plate. “Are you not hungry or something?” You asked, ignoring the bits of beef resting at the corner of your mouth.

“I’m hungry for…something else.” Chuuya smirked, grabbing your dirty plate and placing it in the sink. He stepped over to you and took your hand, hoisting you up from your chair. Carefully, his arm wrapped around your waist so he could pull you in closer to his own form, his fingers running up and down your hip bone. “If you know what I mean.”

You blushed and slowly nodded your head, noticing how his perfect blue eyes seemed to have fireballs igniting within the azure pools. “I…I do. I just…I haven’t had sex in a while. Kind of goes hand-in-hand with the whole dating thing.” You awkwardly laughed to yourself, hoping a joke would lighten the tension.

“I could change that for you dollface, if you want me to.” Chuuya purred, tilting your chin up to his lips were just hovering above yours. “Just say the word sweetheart, and I’ll make you see stars.” He whispered, his hot breath touching your trembling lips.

You thought for a moment, your mouth still agape at Chuuya’s boldness. “...okay.” You breathed against his lips, mere centimeters away.

With your consent, Chuuya crashed his lips against yours. With one hand clutching ont your waist, the other cupped your face quite gently. His kiss was rough and passionate, groaning into your mouth at the sensation that he had so long been craving.

Your hands flew to grab onto his hair, tugging at the longer part. Chuuya moaned slightly at the sensation, squeezing the fabric of your dress. He pulled himself away slowly, choosing to instead attack the delicate flesh of your neck. His lips found your sweetspot and sucked harshly, your lips producing the cutest little moans which only made his cock harder. A bright purple hickey formed in no time at all, definitely going to last a few days.

“You wear turtlenecks, right? Shouldn’t be a fuckin’ problem then.” He growled against your neck, trialing molten kissed down until he reached your collarbone, playfully licking it.

“M-maybe we should go to the bedroom? Comfier.” You managed to squeak out, softly moaning as Chuuya continued to nip and kiss at your collarbone. He pulled away, grumbling at the loss of contact.

“Good idea dollface, smart.” He lifted you up bridal style, chuckling as you squealed. “You’re so fuckin’ adorable baby, y’know that?” He asked, kicking open the door to your bedroom. He practically threw you onto the bed and pounced, pinning your wrists above your head quickly. Chuuya slammed his lips against yours once more, shoving his tongue down your throat as your teeth clashed for dominance.

Taking a break from the onslaught of tongue-on-tongue, Chuuya gently stroked your face with his still-gloved hand. “Fucking good mouth you got, sweetheart.” He purred, shifting himself so he was looking at your hips. “Now tell me,” His hand reached to his mouth, peeling off his gloves with his teeth. “Do you want my fingers or my tongue first, princess?”

You gulped nervously, your face feeling like it was going to explode at any moment from how fucking horny you were for this man. Your legs were practically shaking under him, how was it possible that one man could make you feel euphoria without fucking you?

“B-both, please…” You whispered, not daring to look into his aflamed blue eyes that burned for you. Your aroused pooled in your belly, just waiting to be taken care of.

Chuuya nodded approvingly, lifting your dress up to reveal your panties that were soaked in your arousal. “Fuckin’ dirty girl, so perfect for me.” He whispered, hastily removing your panties and tossing them into some corner of your bedroom. He shivered at the sight of your glistening core, admiring how otherworldly it looked in the dim lights of your bedroom.

“Shit,” Chuuya groaned, gathering some of your slick on his fingertips before carefully inserting his index and middle finger inside of your sobbing cunt. He wasted no time in curling his fingers inside of you, thrusting them back and forth swiftly.

“Oh fuck, oh my God!” You cried out, throwing your head back even further into the soft pillows beneath you. Your legs wanted so badly to wrap around his hand, trapping him there for a while.

“That’s it baby, scream for me. Fuckin’ scream for me princess.” He growled, his lips sucking on your clit roughly. His tongue lapped and sucked at your desperate folds, fingers pumping in and out of you like he was in a competition. He could feel your walls sucking him in, knowing your orgasm was close.

“Fucking cum for me baby, lemem hear those pretty moans of yours!” Chuuya demanded, eating you out like a starved man.

“Oh fuck, Chuuya!” You screamed out his name as your orgasm finally hit, the knot in your belly becoming undone too fast for your own liking. You wish that moment could last forever instead of mere moments.

Gasping and panting, you propped yourself up by your elbows to be greeted with a chuckling Chuuya, licking off your cum with his expert tongue. “You taste so much better than anything I’ve ever fucking had before princess.” He spoke, his voice low and sultry.

Chuuya briefly got off the bed to take off his pants and boxers, gasping as the air of your bedroom hit his throbbing cock. He relished in your shocked expression, your mouth left hanging wide open at the sight of him.

“What, never seen a big dick before?” He chuckled, getting on top of you once more. He lifted your legs up so they rested on his shoulders, giving him the most perfect angle to fuck you seneless.

“Not in a while, no.” You retorted, offering Chuuya a smirk of your own. That one simple movement of your facial muscle was all it took for him to align his cock with your entrance, slamming it inside of you.

“That was so fucking hot babe, do it again.” He demanded, pounding himself into your core without giving you any time to adjust to his length or girth. His hands gripped the undersides of your thighs, occasionally smacking the subble skin.

“Ngh, h-holy fuck! Chuuya, shit! So fucking big, oh my fucking God!” You cried out, your hands making desperate motions to grab onto anything. Chuuya bent down, pushing you into a mating press so he could better hold your hand.

“Shit, fucking scream my name babygirl. Fuck, you’re squeezing on to me so damn tight!” He groaned into your ear, his balls snapping against your ass over and over again. Your cheeks were flushed, mouth gaping open. All that left your lips were wanton moans and cries of pleasure as Chuuya’s cock hit your G-spot over and over again, the pleasure once again pooling in your belly.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit, I’m close! Chuuya, fuck!” You screamed, slamming your lips upwards onto his own. He happily accepted the kiss, biting down onto your lower lip as he felt your cunt contract around his soaked cock.

“Fuck, can you hold out just a little longer baby? Wan’ cum with you, yeah?” He whined against your lips, furiously meeting his hips with your own as the scent of sex and longing filled the bedroom.

“Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop!” You cried into his ear, not sure how much longer you could stand to not fall into your orgasm.

He growled against your neck, his thrusts becoming staggered and desperate in a relentless tempo as Chuuya’s own orgasm approached him. “Shit, gonna fucking cum. Cum with me yeah, please fucking come with me!”

A silent scream left your lips as euphoria enveloped your body, wave after wave of ecstasy hitting you as your orgasm finally came. Your arousal squeezed and coated Chuuya’s cock, sending him over the edge.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my God! Fuck…” He gapsed into your neck, his ministrations slowing down until they came to a complete stop. He collapsed onto you, lazily kissing your neck and the hickeys that covered it.

You smiled, peeling the sweaty hairs away from your face as you embraced Chuuya in your arms. “That was…just like the books I read.” You chuckled, running your fingers through his mess of red hair. “Almost exactly like those books, actually.”

Chuuya looked up from your breast and raised an eyebrow, flipping you around so you were now embraced in his arms. “You read porn?”

You nodded, gesturing to your nightstand. “Yeah, I try to keep it a secret though. My coworkers would never let me live it down if they knew the truth.” You gave him a crooked smile, curling further into his chest.

He nodded in understanding, kissing your forehead. “Well, we gotta do this again princess. Because that was…well it was fuckin’ amazing. Who knew the cute little librarian was so dirty?” He joked, poking your cheek teasingly.

“I literally just let you finish inside of me and you’re making jokes?”

“Hey, I’m allowed to be funny. I’m a fuckin’ sex god.”

You sighed and kissed his lips, feeling your eyes grow heavy with sleep. “Y’know, I don’t have work tomorrow if you wanted to stay the night…” You yawned, embracing the feeling of coziness and warmth.

Chuuya was a bit shocked by your words at first, smacking his lips together. He smiled down at you, ruffling up your nest of a hair that was no doubt caused by his body moving against yours for a good twenty minutes. “I’d really like that, princess.” He assured you, grabbing his phone from your nightstand to type something in. “Just lettin’ my boss know I’ll be late for my assignment tomorrow.”

“What if he gets mad at you?” You asked, your sleepy voice filled with just a pinch of concern.

“Well, he can suck my dick for all I care. Although, I’d much rather have you do that.” He winked, throwing the covers above your sweaty forms. “So, are you going to get changed or are we sleeping in our date night clothes?”

“Mm, date night clothes. I don’t think I’ll be able to fucking walk after what you did to me.” You laughed, pulling Chuuya closer. You rested your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat through the expensive shirt he wore. “Have sweet dreams, okay? And…pleae be here when I wake up tomorrow.” You whispered the last part before drifting off, the cutest little snore escaping from your parted lips.

Chuuya sighed and kissed the top of your head, admiring how innocent you looked in your slumber. “I promise beautiful, I’m not going anywhere.”

#bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #chuuya nakahara #bsd chuuya #bsd x you #chuuya smut #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara smut #bsd x reader smut

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saphronethaleph · 5 months ago

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Filing a P-90

“Young man, a few moments of your time?”

CT-0102 looked up, confused.

“...how so?” the trooper asked. “You’re, uh, if you want to talk, you can just talk. If you have orders, go ahead and give them. Ma’am.”

“I’d rather not force you to discuss something,” the elderly woman said, by way of explanation. “I was wondering if you had a perspective on… weapons.”

“Weapons,” 102 repeated. “I guess… I’ve been trained with them? Using weapons is my job, I mean? Does that count as an opinion?”

“It might,” the old woman said. “But I meant more the philosophy of why a weapon exists.”

She shrugged, one hand resting for a moment on a long box by her side. “And, in particular, whether a weapon’s design tells us something about what it’s meant for.”

“This is getting dangerously philosophical, ma’am,” 102 admitted. “It’s above my pay grade.”

“It’s not above mine, I think,” the woman told him. “If you don’t want to talk, say so. I give you that permission, if you need it. But what I mean is that, for example… a lightsaber is a Jedi’s weapon, and that means that it’s a weapon of defence and of decisive attack. A lightsaber in trained hands is able to both protect others and to bring a quick end to any fight, and the respect it earns from those who see it can prevent a fight in the first place… a blaster, meanwhile, well, it depends on the blaster, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose that’s true, ma’am,” 102 admitted, glancing up for a moment as the turbulence around the ship increased – for a moment, at least.

There wasn’t anything he could do about it, so he just shrugged.

“A small pistol is intended to be concealed,” the woman went on. “It’s a weapon of self defence, but it’s also a weapon for committing an unexpected crime. While a larger, more powerful pistol, that’s a weapon of intimidation. It’s bulky enough to be difficult to conceal, and it’s less accurate than a long weapon, so it’s for both scare tactics and bringing a battle to a quick end. So does that mean it’s like a lightsaber?”

102 considered that.

“Our training covered how to handle most weapons, but it didn’t really address the cultural side of things,” he admitted. “We mostly focused on weapons for once a fight is inevitable.”

“Quite,” the woman agreed – 102 hadn’t actually got her name at any point. “The long rifle, which is designed for military efficiency on a battlefield. Harder to conceal in civilian life, almost impossible in fact, but it’s more effective than most weapons on a battlefield… at least, until you start dealing with either larger targets that they simply can’t damage, or more confined spaces where you want a shorter weapon. They share the attribute of being practical.”

She looked at his eyes, through the helmet. “Isn’t that interesting?”

“I guess,” 102 said, not really sure how to react. “Why do you say that?”

The woman was silent for several seconds, and as she was CT-0102 heard over the battalion push that they were getting close to their deployment point.

“If you don’t mind, I’d prefer this gunship to take up an overwatch position,” the woman said. “I do apologize, I should have mentioned it sooner.”

She pulled the box over to her, and undid the latches, then paused before opening it.

“What about this description of a weapon?” she asked. “A weapon that is designed for killing?”

102 blinked.

“Aren’t… most weapons designed for killing?” he asked. “That’s why they’re weapons.”

“Not at all,” the woman replied. “As we’ve just discussed. Your rifle is designed for practical battlefield use. Weight, length, shot count, rate of fire, all these considerations went into making it. Many other weapons are shaped by different design constraints entirely – a hold-out pistol, or a large heavy blaster. A lightsaber. I’m talking about a weapon that isn’t designed for a fight at all. That isn’t designed to be seen. That’s meant to be used as sparingly as possible, because you’re only meant to use it in the very direst need.”

She pushed open the box, and revealed a kind of long weapon, perhaps a blaster and perhaps not. It looked archaic, with some of the furniture made of actual wood and the rest out of something 102 couldn’t even identify, and there were odd protuberances and glowing blue segments on it.

“For such a weapon, all other considerations would be secondary to lethality,” the woman said. “If they were involved at all. It’s not intended to be involved in a battle, where you try to defeat the enemy; it’s not intended for a warning shot. The only purpose is to kill, and it is only to be used when there is no better choice.”

She knelt down on the floor of their gunship, and a few seconds later the Commander called out the launch order. Their assault ship was passing over the target zone, and all the gunships deployed.

Below, 102 could see the desert, and the darting red shapes of Aethersprite starfighters giving them cover against Geonosian fighter craft. More gunships were deploying, blasts going left and right, and 102 grabbed onto the handles overhead with a free hand for stability.

The woman didn’t seem to notice.

Instead, she took something from her belt, and slotted it into the weapon. It lit up, and she tapped a few controls before snugging the stock of the weapon into her shoulder.

“It’s a shame, you know,” she said, almost conversationally. “He was a great friend of mine, once. I thought he still was, until recently.”

“Who was?” 102 asked.

“Dooku,” the woman answered, her voice slightly distracted. “Emotion, yet peace… my old friend, I do not do this for revenge, but to prevent a greater wrong.”

The strange weapon spat out a bolt of brilliant sky-blue light, one that was like a solid bar connecting their gunship to the ground, and the woman hesitated for a moment… then let out a sigh.

“May you find the peace in death that so failed you in life,” she said, in tones of quiet prayer.

“Sorry, but – did you just…” 102 asked.

“What the kriff was that?” the gunship pilot asked, over the comm connection.

“Well, you can view it in two ways,” the Jedi Master said, ejecting her lightsaber from the rifle and examining it. “No, three, I think. Firstly, that my lightsaber and I were united in the need for that to be done. Secondly, that Count Dooku was too great a threat to peace in the galaxy to live. And third…”

Jocasta Nu placed the rifle back in its box.

“Nobody messes with the Jedi Archives,” she concluded.

#star wars #jocasta nu #lightsaber rifle

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vettelsvee · 5 months ago

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HOLD ON TO HOPE SERIES | Sebastian Vettel (Spider-Man AU)

f1 masterlist | ask me anything or let's talk! great power, great responsibility (1k special)

spidey!sebastian vettel x female bff!reader | based on 2010

for more information to the reader: ❥ this series is an au (alternative universe) and it is based on the amazing spider-man movies. seb is considered peter parker and spider-man, while nico rosberg would be harry osborn (and you know who) and, y/n, gwen stacy. ❥ it contains friends to lovers trope. ❥ seb, y/n and nico are last year students of their respective degrees (seb estudies biomedical engineering, y/n studies biomedical engineering as well, and nico studies aerospacial engineering). ❥ some parts might include sensitive content. pay attention to trigger warnings at the beginning of each part.

started: AUGUST 06TH 2024 currently status: on going | last updated: august 6th masterlist under the cut !

taglist: [feel free to tell me so i can tag you and you don't miss anything!]

a/n: i'm so excited, so happy and this just came out of my head and had to post this. oh. my. god. i hope you love this short series as much as i do (it will have a second part series with retired!seb x ?!reader, any guesses?) pls tell me your thoughts, comments and fangirl as much as i do because i'm absolutely in love with spidey!seb and i fangirl about him on twitter 24/7

SEBASTIAN VETTEL KNEW THAT HAVING A DOUBLE LIFE WAS DIFFICULT, BUT HE DIDN'T KNOW IT WOULD BE THAT HARD. Since he was bitten by a radioactive spider during a school trip, his life changed completely. At first, balancing the last few months of senior year with the task of being a local hero in Heppenheim was quite difficult. However, the real problem began when he moved to Berlin to study Biomedical Engineering with his two best friends, Nico Rosberg and Y/N Y/L/N.

At first, everything was great: Seb went to his classes and, in the evenings, patrolled the city looking for loose criminals and elderly ladies in distress who had lost their kittens. The problem, much to his regret, began two months after his arrival to the German capital when what initially were minor issues of little importance turned into life-and-death situations, where the boy had to stay out on the streets until the early hours of the morning, using Hanna, a student he had met in one of his classes, and the desire of wanting to date with her, as an excuse. Except he really wanted to date Hanna.

Nico was completely fine with the idea of Sebastian living his life and even insisted that he should try something with that blonde girl who seemed to catch his attention, encouraging him to ask her out and become the most envied couple on campus. Y/N, on the other hand, was constantly worried about Seb, staying awake every night until he returned home and even trying to follow him on more than one occasion to see if her best friend was telling the truth or if he was just getting into trouble and she knew nothing about.

Knowing that all Sebastian Vettel did was lie, and seeing that those same lies were accompanied by academic results that were plummeting alongside with his increasing desperation, Y/N offered Seb help to pass his retake exams after Christmas in exchange of just one thing: whatever was going on in his life, he would tell her before he took his last exam.

With a knot in his throat, Sebastian promised her so even knowing that no one, and especially not her, could know that he was Spider-Man... at least not until Y/N started getting to know the superhero when her friend stood her up for the second time and realized that, perhaps, Spidey and Seb had more in common than they should.

HOLD ON TO HOPE MASTERLIST

part 1: y/n decides that she's had enough of seb being an idiot, and tries her best to help him (coming soon!)

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delulu-with-wandanat · 1 year ago

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International Affair

Welcome to my shameless self-insert series🤭 Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Last

Reader Description: Masculine style, They/He, AFAB, International Student, 20 Years Old. Sometimes will be describe using masculine terms (man, boy, handsome, etc)

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x InternationalStudent!Reader

Warnings: Specified age gap (Wanda is 34).

Summary: For their summer break, Y/n decided to spend it in a little town called Westview. It was there when they met Wanda Maximoff. A woman in her 30s with two kids, who seems to be attracted to the college student despite being married.

New York University's tuition was fucking ass. It really is, at a whopping $64,000 tuition fee per year. And that's only the tuition fee, the total estimate of studying in NYU plus living cost was probably over $90,000. Exactly it's fucking insane. Despite receiving a sponsorship from their parent's good friend and also financial aid from NYU, he still needed to figure out how to pay it back.

Sometimes they feel like smacking their head for choosing to study in a city where it's known for its back bank breaking living cost. Can you blame him though? Those tall buildings, shining lights, bustling nightlife, sounds of gunshots, and a huge opportunity for a creative person such as themselves, along with a dash of capitalism. Y/n couldn't help but be fascinated. That American dream that he had been chasing since he saw the Devil Wears Prada.

It was now summer vacation. Instead of going home for the summer, Y/n decided to join this Homeshare Summer program. Basically an elderly person provides home for students to share during the summer. The benefits are plenty, but most notably, cheaper housing rent. His roommates also joined this program, together they sublease their apartment. Adding extra funds to their breaking bank account.

In return, the students must help their elderly host with basic domestic needs. Mostly light household tasks; preparing and sharing meals, tidying up, chores, walking a pet, etc.

Y/n ended up matching with someone in a small town called Westview somewhere in New Jersey. As much as he loves New York, he wanted to spend his summer somewhere else in America.

He matched with a lovely widow named Melina Vostokoff. He learned that she has 2 daughters, both whom are adults with their own respective career. She needed a companion, understandably so, and Y/n was more than happy to assist her in anyway she might need.

"Y/n." Melina called.

"Yes, Mrs. Vostokoff?" Y/n looked up from their laptop, they were sitting on the dinner table editing some footage.

"Oh dear, please, I told you to call me Melina."

"Sorry, Melina. Force of habit." He said with a smile. "What's up?"

"Would you please send all this batches of cookies around the neighborhood? I already have a list of houses on where you can drop them." Melina is known for sharing batches of cookies for free around the neighborhood. Why? Out of kindness.

And also the fact that she loves baking, but ended up not being able to finish it all. So she shares them around the neighborhood.

"Sure, Melina! I'll do that right away."

So he sets of to drop off delicious dessert for Westview citizens. Melina had told them that this was a good chance to ask around for a summer job as well. Which is what he had initially planned to do anyway. Finally they reached the last house, Maximoff Household. They weren't so lucky with the other neighbors, but last one's a charm right? He rang the doorbell.

A person then opens the door. "Hello, I was just-" Holyfucking shit. This woman was absolutely gorgeous.

"May I help you?" She ask, god her voice is sexy.

"Uhhh..." Snap out of it! "Sorry! I'm Y/n, I'm the student staying over the summer at Mrs. Vostokoff. She told me to drop off her Bi-Weekly batches of cookies."

Wanda wasn't stupid, she noticed their nervousness and found it adorable. "Lovely to meet you, Y/n. I'm Wanda, Wanda Maximoff." She offered her hand.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Maximoff." He shook her hand.

"Do you go to Westview University?" She was rather intrigued by the younger one.

"No, ma'am. I actually go to NYU, I'm studying film production."

Wanda raised an eyebrow and smiled. "How impressive. Though I must ask, why choose to spend your summer here?"

Damn... her smile.

"Mainly a much cheaper living cost, other than that I figured It'll be good for me to explore other parts of America. New Jersey is not far so it's a good place to start."

"Ah, an International student I see. Is it one of those Homeshare programs?"

"It is!" The student beamed.

What a charming smile he has, Wanda thought to herself. "Say, how old are you, Y/n." She ask while leaning against the door frame, her tone was... rather flirty.

"Um... I'll be turning 21 this year." Wanda hummed at the answer. For what reason Y/n doesn't know either. "Here are your cookies, ma'am." Well shit, he was getting nervous again. Obviously, Wanda staring at him with a look he can't quite pin.

"Oh! Thank you, dear. My sons absolutely love Melina's cookies." She took the container from them.

"Well that's no surprise, I could live off from those cookies alone." They said while laughing lightly. "So I take it you've lived here for a while?"

"Yes, I've lived here for years with my twin boys and husband." Damn it, they thought. "Anything you would like to know?"

"Yes actually! I've been looking for a summer job, but I haven’t had any luck."

"Well, lucky for you, a friend of mine who owns the Cafe in town is looking for a new Barista. She just recently opened the position."

"That's great news! Thank you so much for letting me know, Mrs. Maximoff." They said with a smile, Wanda had another idea in mind.

"However, I think they're only offering part-time. If you're looking for some extra work, I may need a few... help around the house. Would you be interested?" She asked with a devilish smile.

Y/n, being too excited at the possibility of finally landing a job, failed to notice the flirty undertone in Wanda's sentence. "Absolutely!"

"Splendid! Come over to my house tomorrow and we'll discuss the details."

"I will see you tomorrow, Mrs. Maximoff. Thank you again!" The young man said with a bright smile, he started walking backwards onto the sidewalk.

"See you tomorrow, Y/n." Once they turned their backs on her, Wanda bit her lip. She had multiple things in mind for Y/n to help her with.

I did a quick research on the law of international students working in the US. I didn't get into detail but it basically said yes but there are restrictions. So ignore the actual laws, and y'know just - whatever man it's a fanfic :') When I saw the estimated cost of studying in NYU i almost cried-

Also I hope you guys don’t mind I go with a more masculine reader for this one (i really want to be called a good boy by Wanda)

I hope the reader description doesn’t confuse you guys, if it does. Its ok, i self inserted myself and im very confused abt my gender-

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x internationalstudent!reader #wanda maximommy #scarlet witch #wanda maximilf #wanda x gn!reader #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda x male reader #mommy wanda #wanda x student!reader #wanda maximoff fanfic #International Affair

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trashpanda66 · 1 year ago

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"Communicate"

(Pickle x gender neutral Reader) (SFW)

[So this is my first Baki fic and my first fic on Tumblr. I'm still really new to both of these so if anything is weird or messed up, please just explain how I can fix it. THERE WILL BE A PART TWO! Love y'all. @rottmntrulesall

Life is a very interesting thing, isn't it? You can think that you have everything all figured out, that there's nothing left in life or in this world that can surprise you or knock you off your game. But life always has a curveball hidden just behind the corner, waiting patiently for the day that you don't have your bat ready to swing. Unfortunately for you, you didn't have your eye on the ball today.

You had a lot of experience with animals of all kinds. You grew up in a forest in the countryside your whole life with your family, so encounters with animals happened quite often. From gators in your back yard that you'd give a good bath/scrub to before guiding them back into the swamps, to paying attention to the number of coyotes howling in the woods so you could know when the panthers came back through and cut the canines' numbers down. The herds of deer would just walk around with you when they were in the area, snakes would cuddle up to you for your warmth, and you had a few wild hawks that would come to you for food and comfort all the time. All of these things together made others think that you were some sort of animal tamer, that you could control all of nature's beasts with a wave of your hand and a command from your mouth. It was a cute idea, but it was entirely wrong. In your years growing up in the forest, you had learned how to communicate with the animals. "Look at the ground when you're around deer so they'll think you're a grazer like them, direct eye contact and/or bared teeth are a challenge to fight, a turned back is a prime opportunity to attack, and show any opponent your side to express that you can fight but would prefer not to." These were just some of the lessons you learned as you grew up, but it was the language of the animal world, and you were determined to learn it. Over time, you mastered this unspoken language and earned the respect of the wildlife around you. You didn't control the animals, you simply spoke to them in their language.

You were in Japan for a vacation, rather than work for once. You were enjoying your time there, going to different sites and experiencing the wonders of the land when you suddenly got a phone call. It was an unknown number, but your instincts told you to answer the phone rather than ignore it. With a sigh, you answered the phone call. You were called to Mitsunari Tokugawa's fighting ring to, in his words, "help take care of a wild animal". The man on the other end of the line refused to explain any further than that, instead just repeating "I promise to pay you plenty for your help if you come as soon as possible".

And that's how you ended up here, in an illegal fighting ring, staring directly at a fight between an 8 foot tall caveman and some new upcoming fighter who wanted to test his mettle against the dinosaur killer. You felt a tug on the side of your jacket, causing you to look to the elderly man who called you here in the first place. Tokugawa had a solemn look on his face as he finally elaborated on why you were here.

"His name is Pickle. The main problem is that he keeps eating the fighters who lose to him." His eyes shine with hesitation and fear, as if he's concerned that you'll run off without helping once he finishes explaining everything. His tired old eyes drift back to the arena, catching sight of Pickle as he gives an open palm slap to his opponent and sends the young fighter flying out of the arena. He swallowed down a lump in his throat before continuing.

"I need you to go down there and stop Pickle from eating that fighter in there. I've watched him tear apart some of the world's best fighters, all of them being men that I admired greatly! It's because of him that some of my favorite fighters can no longer return to this ring and others had to give up fighting completely. For now, all I need is that you make sure that fighter in there goes back home mostly intact." The small old man shakes as he talks, seemingly convinced that you're going to escape the moment you get a chance. I mean, who wouldn't? He was sending you into a situation where you could lose parts of your body at best, and your life at worst. But you didn't respond. You stared into the arena, your eyes following every move made by the gigantic ancient human. You could see it in the way his muscles flexed and relaxed, the way his eyes opened and closed lazily, and in the way his facial muscles were mostly lax. You could see it clearly where no one else could.

Pickle wasn't taking this fight seriously. While the young fighter was pouring every ounce of his strength into this match, the caveman had yet to even go halfway. Like a wolf playing with a pup, Pickle was handicapping himself just to give his opponent confidence. The caveman didn't want the game to end anytime soon, but the young fighter was growing more and more weary with each passing second. You were in no rush to get to the bottom of the pit because as far as you could see, Pickle was more than happy to play with and not hurt the smaller fighter. As you neared the entrance of the arena, you caught sight of something that sent you straight into action.

In a foolish attempt to gain victory, the young fighter took aim for Pickle's family jewels. The hit landed, causing Pickle to scream and hiss in pain before backing away from the fighter. Said fighter was staggering around on his own feet, exhaustion and fatigue taking over his entire body as he struggled to simply stay awake. And then you both heard it.

A growl. Then you saw it.

Pickle was on all fours, his entire body lifted up and tense, ready to pounce. Pickle wasn't playing anymore.

You sprinted into the arena, throwing caution to the wind as you jumped in front of the caveman. You turned your back to the massive fighter, baring your teeth and shrieking at the smaller fighter. You lifted your arms and opened your stance, making yourself appear bigger to both men. While the young fighter was confused and dazed by your display, Pickle understood.

You, despite being even smaller and weaker than either of the fighters in the pit, were siding with Pickle against his opponent. Even better, you trusted the prehistoric man to not attack you while you were distracted, a trust which is not lightly given in nature. You were protecting the warrior, you were fighting for the fighter, and your actions did not go unnoticed. Suddenly you leapt forward towards the weary fighter, wrapping your small hands around his head before knocking him to the ground. You didn't give him a chance to speak before you ordered him to go limp and close his eyes. It wasn't difficult for the exhausted brawler to obey your words, passing out at just the right time. Hurriedly you rolled the both of you over on the ground, making it appear as if the younger fighter had gained the upper hand in his "altercation" with you. It was entirely accidental on your part, you had just meant to get the unconscious fighter into a better position where you could sling him closer to the exit of the arena, but you didn't get a chance. Suddenly Pickle was standing over the both of you, his hand outstretched behind himself as his whole body twisted into delivering a bone shattering slap to the exposed fighter. You started struggling underneath the younger fighter who was much heavier than he looked to get the caveman's attention and stop him from delivering his final blow, but Pickle saw your struggle as the last efforts of a warrior who will lose the fight against their opponent, furthering him into putting as much force as he could behind his strike.

If there is communication, then there must be miscommunication as well.

The caveman's hand connected with the ribs of the knocked out fighter, sending his unconscious body rag dolling across the arena and into the stands. Welp. At least the young fighter is no longer in the ring. You start to calm down, your eyes fluttering shut slowly as the adrenaline starts to wear off. It was somewhat peaceful, the bright lights were almost good enough to mimic the warmth of the sun as your own fatigue started to catch up to you. It was almost perfect napping conditions. And then you felt a slightly leathery hand cup your cheek softly, which was then followed by a mildly damp nose pressing gently against your forehead, blowing out soft puffs of hot air against your hairline. Your eyes fly back open, expecting to witness horrid fangs the moment before they're buried in your flesh, but instead you're met with a curious sight.

Bright meukow cognac colored eyes peer down at you from behind long, greasy black hair. The giant man is peering down at you, his head blocking the intense lights and giving him a shimmering halo. The caveman's massive hand was gently cradling your face, angling your head towards his and allowing him to check you over for injuries. As far as he knew, you had just taken on a challenger who was strong enough to actually hurt him, and had he not interfered when he did, you would have become the young fighter's next meal. Pickle's eyes filled with tears, his admiration of you flowing from his brandy eyes and dripping onto your face. You knew you couldn't win against the caveman's opponent, yet you still protected him. But there was another reason for Pickle's tears, one that you recognized almost too well.

Pickle doesn't respect anything that can't fight. Pickle doesn't befriend anything that can't fight. But if his opponent can actually put up a good fight, Pickle will bond with them. He'll see them as a companion, an equal, someone worth being in a pack with. But there's one problem; the nature of his time demanded that he eat anything he defeated. Even if he befriended his opponent, even if he loved them with his whole heart, he had to defeat them, and he had to eat them. Because if he didn't, then he'd be the one being consumed. It was eat or be eaten, kill or be killed, and Pickle was determined to survive. No matter how much he loved his enemy, he'd only have that one battle with them, that one bonding moment with them before he had to kill them.

Until you strolled into the arena. You proved your strength by taking on the fighter who managed to injure Pickle, earning the caveman's respect without having to fight him yourself. Pickle didn't have to eat you, because you didn't lose to him! You could be his first companion! The first member of his pack! Finally. Finally Pickle wouldn't have to be alone anymore!

But Pickle could be happy about his new potential pack member later. For now, he needed to finish checking you over for injuries.

You couldn't help the nervous giggle that escaped your lips as the giant caveman skirted his massive hands over your entire body, pressing his nose to anything extra sensitive and sniffing. You let him pick you up and move your joints carefully, testing the ranges of your body just in case anything got hurt in the scuffle. So far, it seemed everything was alright! No injuries accounted for, no discomfort from you, so everything was going great! Pretty soon, the caveman would let you go and you'd probably be free to return to your vacation. Once Pickle was certain that you hadn't been injured in your supposed "fight", he set you down gently on the ground in front of him, gauging your reaction to his presence. You sat in front of him cross legged, your eyes half open as you leaned back and exposed your torso to him. You were telling him you trust him. Pickle immediately began to reciprocate your trust, exposing his neck to you as he used his hands to scuttle closer. Once he's deemed himself close enough to you, he begins to lean forward. You could sense that you were safe with him, that if he wanted you gone, he would have handled that himself long ago. As such, you began to lean forward as well.

Pickle placed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and taking in a shuddering breath. You had to physically stop yourself from gagging at the stench emanating from the giant man, but you closed your eyes and bit your tongue, letting the prehistoric man continue his little bonding ritual. You felt that same massive leathery hand rest against the side of your face once more, though this time he wasn't attempting to move your head. He was just holding you gently, seemingly waiting for you to do something. With an internal sigh, you begin to lift your hand to hold the side of his massive face. The only thought that went through your mind before your small hand touched his dirty skin was 'I hope this isn't some kind of mating ritual'. The moment your hand made contact with his face, Pickle's eyes flew open. Upon seeing that your eyes were still closed, he gently tapped your face. Your eyes opened and met with his once more, the two of you sitting in a position that makes you almost look like lovers. Slowly, his massive hand drifted down from your face, causing you to mirror him and sink your hand lower than his face. Once his hand stopped on your shoulder, you placed yours on his big shoulder, never once breaking eye contact. Pickle smiled to you, showing his fangs before hiding them slowly, so you reciprocated. Finally Pickle pulled his head away from yours, sitting up a bit straighter in front of you. He closed his eyes happily before making a little chuffing noise at you, to which you giggled and finally spoke to the caveman. Though your sentence was in the language of the modern humans, Pickle understood your words.

"Hello there, Pickle. I'm glad we're friends now."

#baki son of ogre #baki the grappler #pickle baki #pickle x reader #baki pickle

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rocksibblingsau · 7 months ago

Note

How do you think the BroZone Reunion would work in a Classical Branch AU?

Hmmm so I imagine that post-World Tour his name was still mentioned so John Dory still finds out the same way.

His full name was said and he was also said to be 'Trollzart's son' but John Dory tuned ALL of that out. All he heard was 'Branch' and he went running.

I think Poppy would have invited Branch to the wedding, explaining that Bergens were happy now. I think he would have met Bridget and Gristle when the other tribes went to Pop Village and while he really doesn't care for them, he can appreciate that Bridget seems to genuinely care about the safety of Trolls. Branch offered to teach Bridget some etiquette that would be useful to her as queen. There was brief talk of him composing the wedding march, but he passed that work onto Poppy as he quickly realized Bridget was more interested in a more Pop Troll approach to the ambience.

Bridget really liked Branch, and Gristle likes him in the same way you like a kitten on the internet dressed in a little tuxedo. He thinks Branch is a 'distinguished gentleman' the same way I think my elderly cat who sits ungracefully is 'a little lady'. He thinks he's a funny little guy and he likes that Branch actually treats him like he's a respectable king and refers to him only as 'Your majesty'. Because of this, Branch was in the wedding party and he accepted because that's the Classical way.

JD's meeting with Branch goes somewhat the same way simply because JD didn't let Branch get much in edgewise. He came in, made a scene and Branch was mostly reactionary.

The 'junk in the trunk' was met with a glove slap to the face and Dante laying on his travel fainting couch.

When he finally stopped to actually pay attention to how Branch was dressed/talking he spent most of the time telling Branch to 'knock off the hoity toity act and talk normally' or making fun of him.

Bruce similarly steamrolls a lot over Branch and teases him, but starts to slowly piece together that it's maybe not an act.

Clay assumes at first Branch is trying to do a bit and insists that 'Fun Clay is dead' so knock it off, but when Branch continues on regardless Clay starts trying to test him and is surprised that not only is it legit, but he's way more serious than him. I imagine Clay does or says something and Branch reacts in a sort of 'Ah, that's a bit too childish for me but you do you, as they say.' and Clay has a knee-jerk reaction because how is he still the fun one to Branch? How is Branch way more serious than him?

Floyd doesn't recognize Branch at first, and sadly doesn't give much of a reaction due to the fact he's dying. The way home though he's trying to keep an open mind and asking what brought about the change. When he hears about Trollzart he asks Branch more about him and is really the only brother to at no point tell Branch to 'knock it off'.

#sibblings qna #classical branch au #trolls branch #brozone #john dory #trolls bruce #trolls clay #trolls floyd #trolls bridget #king gristle #dante crescendo

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selenacosmic · 9 days ago

Text

A heartfelt surprise. (2/2)

birthday special.

The streets of Kai were filled with people working, most of them, if not all, would look in our direction with glee. More specifically, they were all looking at shingen, admiration and respect reflecting from their wide smiles. Considering that today is his birthday, it was obvious that everyone would give him lots of attention. I felt just as happy to see the townspeople surrounding him, offering gifts and trying to encourage him to enter their shops. It was clear as day that he was beloved by everyone here.

“Lord shingen! It has been a while since you came to town, why not try the best cup of tea of this season?” An elderly man offered with a smile, to which shingen returned.

“I love the sound of that, though today I am on a special date with my goddess.” He said it in an apologetic tone, I knew that he was being considerate to our time together.

“Actually, a cup of tea sounds like an amazing start for our date.” To me, a perfect date was like this. Walking with shingen around town, making stops at the shops to check on everyone and see if they were facing any problems. Some might think that it sounds like work instead of a date, but this was different.

Shingen looked at me with a grateful smile, though it also held a bit of guilt. “My goddess is always so good to me, I don’t deserve this kindness. Then, we will be having dango with the tea, please.” The shop owner seemed more than happy to welcome us and guide us to an empty seat. Most of the shop owners in Kai would try giving shingen a special treatment as a gift on his birthday, a way to show their appreciation for his protection.

“You know, we could also go shopping for more wood as well. I noticed your supply has gotten shorter.” Lately, he has made new toys for the twins out of wood, as well as furniture for their rooms now that they were getting older.

“I was thinking of doing that another time, this kind of thing can be a bit boring after all. But, if my wife wants to keep me company, i won’t say no.” He might say that, but to me it was fun to spend time with him, even in the most boring activities. Besides, I get to see him buying materials to do what he loves, to hear him speak about his favorite type of wood to use or the differences they make when building.

“Oh, I am sure i won’t be bored. Besides, I get to make a request from you, don’t I?” His lips turned into a playful grin as he leaned closer, I leaned as well.

“Anything my goddess wants.” I missed moments like these when we both are free from work, the most important thing being our date and how we will choose to spend it. Although i would need to take him back to the castle once night settled for his surprise, we still had the whole afternoon to ourselves.

Soon our tea had arrived, as well as the dango we asked to accompany our drinks. That was a sweet start for our date.

————

“More up! Papa needs the best party.” Yukimura didn’t mind the commanding voice as he worked on setting up the decoration, specially since he was the one who offered to help when it came to height and strength, but it was a bit weird to him that he was receiving those orders from a little girl.

“Ok, is this high enough?” Of course, he was going to be compliant and obey, she was still lord Shingen’s daughter, after all.

The little girl furrowed her eyebrows as she took a good look, paying close attention to detail. “Uncle Yoshi, does it look pretty?” Himeko immediately turned to a second opinion before giving her answer.

“It looks fine at that height, it will be a good highlight of the decoration.” Yoshimoto, who made no movement to actually help in setting things up, but instead gave directions, answered from beside his niece.

“You know, this would be faster if you helped me. I can understand Himeko not being able to reach, but you are tall enough.” It wasn’t the first time that Yukimura was irritated with Yoshimoto, it always felt like both could never get along very well.

“Yuki, don’t be cruel, I am helping. If i don’t observe from afar, I won’t be able to guide you well.” While Yoshimoto found Yukimura’s frustration amusing, he did help setting up the decoration for the most part. Watching his niece ordering Yukimura around was very entertaining, though.

Himeko looked satisfied as well, smiling while crossing her arms. She looked around the room to make sure that everything was perfect. “Everything is perfect, dad will get the best banquet of his life.”

The little girl looked at her list, which was as organized as a seven year old could possibly be. Almost everything was ready, they just needed to guarantee the food and drinks, though the children wouldn’t need to worry about that aspect given their age. Just as they were wrapping up the decoration, oujiro bursts into the room with his hands full with sweet buns, rushing towards them.

“Sis, look! Lord Kenshin allowed me to have these!” Oujiro looked full of joy to have access to the sweets, being a sweet tooth just like his father. He couldn’t move his arms much in fear of dropping the buns, so he gestured for the two warlords to see if they wanted any. Yukimura did accept one while Yoshimoto refused.

“Really? He said we couldn’t go to the kitchen, though…” Himeko looked with suspicion at the buns, wondering if her brother stole them while no one was looking.

“Trust me, I asked him if we could taste test!” Only at that confirmation did Himeko take a bun from her brother. Both were smiling at their reward for having organized the party that day, eating the sweets eagerly.

Their uncles watched the children, who were letting go of their serious attitudes while organizing the banquet once they were given dessert, their image mirroring their parents.

“You know, I don’t think I have ever seen those two actually fighting or arguing.” Yukimura said with his mouth a bit full of the sweet bun.

“Well, not everyone calls others boars or tries to start arguments, Yuki. It’s understandable that you wouldn’t comprehend.” Yoshimoto lightly teased him, smiling as he noticed him frowning.

“Why, you…!” Was Yukimura’s angry response, though he wouldn’t argue for now since the children were there.

—————

The sun was going down in the horizon, painting Kai with soft, orange glows. We had spent our time enjoying sweets and shopping freely without worrying about having to get back to work. The last step to our date was buying the wood for Shingen’s carpenter work. We had preferred to leave it at last given how heavy the wood would be to carry, though I doubt he would let me carry even one. I agreed to it because i didn’t want his arms to get tired of constantly carrying the heavy weight, even though he looked like he could handle it just fine.

“This type of wood should be good to work it for now, I already have a few ideas on what to craft.” Shingen was analyzing the material while smiling, clearly pleased with the purchase.

“Don’t forget to tell me when you start, I have a few requests.” Seeing him happy after our date was fulfilling, his joy mirrored mine.

While carrying the wood under his arms, he insisted that i could hold his other hand. “Uhm, are you sure you can carry all that? Maybe you should use both your arms, it will be easier.”

“Nonsense, I wouldn’t leave my goddess’ hand cold even for a moment.” He might say that with a confident smile, but i could tell that he would get tired eventually.

It would be better for us to hurry to the castle, everyone must be waiting for us.

With that thought in mind, we walked the rest of the way home in silence, and I was hoping that Shingen didn’t know anything about the surprise, or that he at least didn’t have any suspicions. The children must have worked hard to prepare this for him.

The moment we had arrived at the castle, there were many servants approaching us, a vassal had offered to take the items we had shopped and take it to our room. I could sense him looking at me, noticing how unusual it was to have this many servants surrounding us to help. He must have also noticed how differently the castle halls looked.

“It seems like the date wasn’t all there was for my birthday, was it?” His tone was amused, showing hints of curiosity to know what else was prepared.

“Of course not, you should know by now that your family wouldn’t let you settle for anything less.” A smile spread on my face, it was finally time to celebrate his birthday properly.

“Then my family is far too good to me. Well? Show me my gift, I am getting impatient.” I gently pulled on his hand, guiding him with me to the hall where the banquet would take place. Everyone should be inside, waiting for us. Once we were in front of the room, I let go of his hand, gesturing for him to slide the door open. The muffled sound of people inside was a clear indication of what awaited him. “It’s right here”

Shingen eyed the door, smiling as he opened it to receive his gift.

At that moment, everyone that was inside looked at us. “Happy birthday!” The unison of voices reached us with enthusiasm, Shingen was greeted by everyone as he entered the room, I followed right behind.

“This is some surprise! Was this what you were all doing while we were out?” He seemed glad with his banquet, the children were the first to run straight at him, ‘attacking’ his legs with a hug.

“Oujiro and I did it! We ordered everyone to make the best party.” Himeko was excited to tell what they have been working on, receiving a head pat from shingen.

“I am very happy, my princess! How can I deserve to be father of two angels?” Given how tall he is, he had to bend a bit to pat the children’s heads. To make this easier for him, shingen lifted the twins up in his arms. The very sight made my heart melt completely.

“We checked everything with the uncles, too! So we had help.” Oujiro’s eyes were shining the moment they were lifted up. He always enjoyed when their father would put them on his shoulders, so being carried was his favorite way of spending time with shingen.

“Looks like you both did a good job, I knew you would be able to handle this.” As a reward for their hard work, I gave each of the twins a kiss on the forehead. Now, we should all enjoy the party. Once we all found a seat close to our family, kenshin greeted us.

“Shingen, it has been yet another year that you live… you are lucky that those two are here.” Kenshin had toned down his lighthearted threats whenever the twins were around, which I was thankful for.

Shingen chuckled at those words, letting the twins sit on both his sides. “Even now, they protect me from you. It’s a bit shameful, but I enjoy this kind of protection.”

“Humph, don’t push your luck. We can always go outside to spar, after all.” A smile appeared on kenshin’s face at the idea, though Sasuke tried stopping him before things could escalate.

“Lord Kenshin, remember what I said about no K.A.I in Kai.” He fixed his glasses while telling him, the light in kenshin’s eyes disappeared at those words.

“I don’t need to be reminded about the meaning, nor about how boring that rule is.” He took his frustration out on the pickled plums and… was it just me, or was that a lot of pickled plums?!

“Kenshin, I heard from the twins that you would be handling all the rest of the food that I couldn’t finish, did you… prepare all of that?” I was worried that all we would have to eat would be that. As far as I know, only Oujiro enjoy salty food like that, Himeko hated it just like her father.

Kenshin scoffed at my worry, drinking sake after having swallowed his plums. “You don’t have to worry, i prepared these specifically for me. And… that boy, I suppose.” He didn’t seem to mind oujiro taking a few plums to eat, which made me smile.

“Sasuke is right, despite his weird language. You should put the sword away for now and enjoy the small delights of this party.” Yoshimoto drank a cup of sake, which was kept far away from the reach of children.

“For tonight, this drink should do it for me. Now, tell me more about your recent battles.” Kenshin was already finding another way to distract himself from wanting to spar.

“Not this again…” poor Yoshimoto and Sasuke had to entertain him for now, which pulled his attention away from us.

Shingen leaned closer to me, whispering softly in my ear. “See how soft he has gotten? Maybe having children around was just what kenshin needed to be less sour.”

“Don’t say it like that, though he does seem to care a lot about them.” I whispered back, lightly hitting his shoulder for secretly teasing kenshin.

“You two know that you aren’t being subtle, right?” Yukimura was behind us, which spooked me but didn’t seem to bother shingen. Before i could scold him for scaring me like that, he put a plate down on our table. “Here, this is what you prepared for lord shingen this morning, right?”

“Oh! The plate with the manju tower… I tried to make a cake, but that was all I could come up with that was close enough.” I still feel a bit sad that I couldn’t make him a proper cake, given how much he liked the modern sweets from when we were in the future.

Shingen looked at the tower of manju, a bit speechless at how they were arranged on the plate. Every second of his silence made me more nervous than I already was. Oujiro tried taking one piece, but Himeko lightly slapped his hand since it could send everything down. “My love, this is… did you make all of these for me?”

“It was the best i could do, I hope you still like it.” I felt him taking my hands in his, kissing them both gently. I was a bit caught off guard, but it felt just like him to do this at every gift I gave him.

“I really don’t deserve you. I love this tower of manju, and I will be enjoying it all.” As he said that, he was already set on eating his sweets, giving a few the to twins since he knew they had a similar taste to his.

I smiled at how genuinely happy he seemed, we were all surrounded by friends and family in the banquet, celebrating yet another year that he lives well and healthy. I had made it my mission to make him happy all the days we spend together, and seeing him surrounded by the love of everyone filled my heart. I moved closer, putting my hand over his shoulder.

“Shingen… happy birthday.” With that, I moved to plant a kiss on his cheek, though he moved his head just in time to claim my lips. This time i didn’t let that surprise me, leaning towards him as well.

“Thank you, Selena. Or rather, i should thank everyone here for still being with me.” Those were his words when we finally pulled away from each other.

The party carried on with everyone chatting and laughing, sharing everything that had happened this past year and how better the next year would be for us.

The end…

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikemen sengoku shingen #ikesen shingen

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normspellsman · 2 years ago

Text

Nothing Is Lost

part one | part two

pairing: lo’ak x fem!tawkami!reader & fem!tawkami!reader x deceased!oc!brother

genre: angst (majority of it), fluffish, comfort (from both lo’ak + reader), & lo’ak looking out for reader

word count: 2.6k+

warning(s): mentions of sibling death, self deprecating thoughts, reader wishing she was dead instead of brother, mentions of neglectful parents, lo’ak feeling guilty, reader blames jake for what happened, mentions of loss of appetite + indirectly starving self, kissing, lo’ak briefly crying, & guilty feelings

word bank: uturu — any refugee seeking sanctuary that must be granted safe harbor, great mother / eywa — goddess deity that the na’vi believe in, yerik / hexapede — land animal that resides on pandora + is hunter for meat, tsmukan — brother, tsmuke — sister, oeyä — my, tiyawn — love, yawne — beloved, yawntutsyip — darling; little loved one, & txe’lan — heart

taglist: @aonungsmate @dearstell @optimisticblazetrash @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @goodiesinthecloset21 @universal-s1ut @amortencjja @liyahsocorro

note: slightly inspired by the song “nothing is lost (you give me strength)” by The Weeknd. a small dedication to @jimfiqs for their comment on the first post which slightly inspired me to write this :).

Days had passed since your brother's funeral and the attack of the sky people on your clan, the Tawkami.

Lo’ak had refused to leave your side throughout the entirety of Kelu’s funeral, paying his respects to your brave little brother as he gently wiped away the tears running down your raw cheeks, trying his best to comfort you.

When your parents caught wind of your brother's unfortunate death, they had a much colder reaction than yours. Your Father, the Olo’eyktan, had buried himself in his duties and in aiding others in attempts to salvage the parts that were left of their beloved home. Your Mother, the Tsahìk, had busied herself with healing the wounded and tending to the elderly. So that left you with the funeral preparations for your deceased brother.

You had been distant and cold towards the others in your life, paying them no mind as you scrambled to make your little brother's funeral perfect. You had to give him a perfect sending off to the Great Mother. You’d accept nothing short of it.

Lo’ak had noticed your sunken eyes and paling cerulean skin whenever you appeared out from your family’s tent, which was rarely. He was worried. He felt extremely worried that you were driving yourself to the bone, giving yourself no time to eat or sleep. It was evident what you were doing to yourself and due to that, Lo’ak felt immense guilt. If only the Sully family has gone past the reefs and seeked uturu from the Metkayina clan instead of the Tawkami. Maybe then your precious brother would still be here, alive and breathing instead of six feet underneath the base of your Home Tree. Maybe then you wouldn’t be in the position you were in now, overworking yourself as your parents neglected you at every turn.

Lo’ak had whispered reassuring words to you as your Mother performed your clans funeral ritual, voice shaking as she did so. He wanted to make sure that you knew he was going to be there for you even if you hated him at the moment. That no matter what, he was going to be there to aid you in picking back up the pieces of your broken, grieving heart.

You pretended that Lo’ak didn’t exist. Ignoring him whenever he brought you a warm piece of yerik that he caught and cooked up for dinner, leaving it outside your tent. Switching the direction you were walking in when he just so happened to be walking towards you, smile on his face before you swerved out of his way. Avoiding eye contact during your clans weekly gathering, watching as the others freely danced in front of you in choice of not meeting Lo’ak’s persistent gaze on the side of your head.

All of your actions were purposeful. You truly didn’t want to see him. But not for the reason he thinks.

You felt awful for reacting the way you did when he tried to comfort you that fateful day, but you had lost the other half of your heart and needed something to blame. And Lo’ak was the one you lashed out at.

A part of you did mean your words, believing that Jake Sully should’ve fought back instead of run, unnecessarily dragging you and your clan into his war. He should’ve never asked uturu from the Tawkami and now all of you were paying the price for it. You resented Jake for causing all this pain and suffering to those who didn’t deserve it. Who offered up their home for him and his family. Who protected him and those he loved. And what did you get in return for your kindness? A dead brother and half a home.

Another part of you knew that your words were just that, words. No true meaning behind the insults you spat. Again, you needed someone to be mad at and Lo’ak was the first person you saw. This part was mad at you, at yourself. Mad that you took your eyes off of Kelu while trying to gather all the children you could to safety. Angry that you didn’t think to take him with you first. Angry that you didn’t find him faster. Angry that he was dead and you weren’t. You should be in his place. In the soil of your home as your clanspeople chanted your song chord and guided you into the hands of Eywa. Maybe then, if you had been the one to die instead of Kelu, your parents wouldn’t mind as much. Wouldn’t sulk as much or wouldn’t ignore your brother in hopes of burying away the pain.

You knew that some part of your parents had wished that it was you instead of Kelu. That you were six feet under instead of their only son. They had always preferred him over you, not that you minded much. You preferred Kelu over you too. But that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt any less. That your suffering wasn’t as much as theirs. Kelu was of your blood. You both had the same metallic substance coursing through your veins. He was your brother first before he was theirs.

You had visited him many nights via the Tree of Souls of your clan. You never missed one, often skipping dinner to see him even if it was for a brief moment.

“(Y/N), look! I did it!” A familiar voice screeched out in excitement, jumping up and down from their feat.

Most of the memories you saw consisted of Kelu when he was younger, them often being of you teaching him something or him coming to you whenever he couldn’t sleep and begged you to sing him to his slumber. This night wasn’t an exception.

Kelu spent weeks trying to convince you to teach him how to use a bow way before both of your parents deemed him old enough to start training with you. Obviously, you couldn’t say no when he approached you one night crying about it, pleading for you to teach him. You gave in once he looked up into your eyes with his wide, amber puppy dog orbs. He was only nine then.

“Good job, tsmukan,” you exclaimed, ruffling his hair in a teasing manner.

He had hit some part of the makeshift target you made, his previous attempts unsuccessful and landing in various places amongst the grass and bushes. The arrow wasn’t embedded into the bright red dot in the middle of the circular target, lodged nearly into the edge. It was his first successful attempt at shooting the arrow at the target and making it. Albeit that fact, he was over the moon about what he did. Excitement shook through his body.

Kelu wrapped his arms around your waist, head barely coming to the middle of your ribcage, burying his face into the flat of your stomach with a wide grin on his face. “Thank you so much, tsmuke. You’re the best teacher ever!” He giddily yelled out, practically shaking with excitement.

Your heart dropped to your stomach, tears pricking at your waterline as you brought younger Kelu into your abdomen. You dearly missed your brother. The warmth of his hug from the memory felt so real. You often found yourself questioning what was real and what wasn’t during your visits with Kelu, struggling to decipher if it was reality.

“What’s wrong, oeyä tsmuke?” Kelu asked, now up to your clavicle, his nine-year-old form no longer as it was replaced with his most recent thirteen-year-old body.

He always rubbed it in your face that he was most likely going to be taller than you once he reached of age, proud that he at least surpassed you in something. Kelu thought the highest of you. Viewing you as the golden child of the family. You naturally excelled at everything you did, being the top warrior of your age group. He wanted to be just like you. Shine in the same light that your parents bestowed upon you from your birth. To be honest, he lacked a lot of skills that was expected of a Tawkami warrior, struggling to keep up with the other children his age. So to be so close to being better, or in this case, taller than you, he took pride in it as he flaunted it to you every chance he got. This was the only thing that he ‘beat’ you at.

“Nothing my dear tsmukan,” you whispered, putting your hand on Kelu’s cheek and softly stroked the patch of skin with the pad of your thumb, “There’s no need to worry.”.

You were almost certain that Kelu was ignorant to the fact that he was dead. You didn’t want to voice your thoughts and ruin the experience your brother was experiencing within Eywa. He deserved to continue on blissfully in his afterlife and not worry over how you coped after his death. He deserved peace.

He didn’t seem too convinced at your words, brow bones pulling together in a furrow. But he quickly let it go, burrowing himself back into your arms, face resting in the crook of your neck. You didn’t know if he did it to comfort you or just because he wanted to be in the warm embrace of your arms but you didn’t complain, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulled him further into your figure. You missed hugging Kelu. Missed his healing hugs and comforting words. You missed him with your whole being that every bone in your body longed to be within the consciousness of the Great Mother twenty-four-seven.

You pulled yourself out of the memory when you heard your name being distantly called, knowing who it was.

“Yes, Lo’ak?” You numbly asked, robotically pulling your queue away from the glowing tendril of your clans Tree of Souls. You really didn’t want to interact with the Omatikaya boy, but you knew you should. A part of you called out to be comforted by him. To be pulled into his arms and be gently reassured that everything was going to be okay and that he will never leave your side for as long as he breathed.

Lo’ak stopped in his tracks upon hearing your response to his calling, surprised that you knew it was him. But you’d always know. You practically memorized everything about the boy. You could tell how he felt by the twitch of his eyebrows to what he was thinking by the way he shifted from foot to foot as his tail softly twitched from side to side. The tone of his voice was something you dedicated to memory very early on in befriending him.

“Have you eaten yet, tiyawn?” He asked, kneeling by your side as he placed his five fingered hand onto the side of your head that was closest to him, gently scratching your braids and scalp.

He hadn’t seen you since this morning. You brushed past him without a second glance, making your way deep into the deep forest that was untouched by the sky peoples fire. He knew that you were frequently visiting your brother at the tree, often ignoring the need for water and food, spending hours upon hours at the glowing Spirit Tree. He was worried that you didn’t eat yet. Worried that you were indirectly killing yourself as punishment for your brother's death.

Your silence is his answer, making him deeply inhale as he moved closer to your figure, fingers still moving against your scalp.

“You should eat, baby,” he mumbled, trying to get you to look back at him as he lowered his face to meet your gaze, “Don’t have to eat everything, can be just one bite.”.

You knew he was right but you couldn’t bring yourself to stomach the thought of eating anything. Your appetite had greatly diminished following Kelu’s funeral. Your body was too consumed with grief to hold anything down or barely even chew for that matter. But you would be willing to try. Try for Lo’ak.

You nodded your head in response to Lo’ak’s words, leaning into the boys side. Your head gently laid on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around your waist, hand resting against your hip bone.

Everything was quiet for a couple of beats, the sounds of the forest echoing throughout the area. Until Lo’ak spoke up.

“I’m sorry, yawne,” he whispers, voice slightly cracking at the truthfulness behind his words, “I’m so sorry that you had to experience that. That your home was destroyed. That the sky demons hurt you. I should’ve done better at protecting you from my Fathers sins.”.

His words made your heart stop, causing you to pull your head from his shoulder to turn towards him, an unreadable expression painted across your face.

Your heart sunk at his confession. You knew that your prior words to him days before may have had something to do with it. You may have meant it in the moment but you no longer believed them to be true. Lo’ak shouldn’t protect you from his Fathers sins no more than you could protect him from your own Fathers. It shouldn’t be his responsibility.

“It is not your fault, Ma Lo’ak,” you mumbled, bringing your left hand up to rest on his cheek, “It is not your responsibility to protect me from your Fathers past. It is him who should protect you from it, fight it,” you finish, him melting at finally feeling your touch after being deprived from it for days.

“I am sorry that my words had affected you as much as they did, my yawntutsyip,” you added, kissing the tip of his nose in reassurance, “I was…so angry and needed to blame something. I know it doesn’t excuse what I said to you. I’m glad you came into my life when you did, even with the consequences that followed.”.

Tears fell from Lo’ak eyes. This was the most you had talked to him since you dismissed him the night of your brother's death. He desperately missed the sound of your voice.

“There’s no need to apologize, my txe’lan,” he replied, bringing your face into his hands as his lips met yours in a gentle kiss. Your lips moved in tandem together, hands going up to grasp whatever body part was closest. He was the first one to pull away from the kiss, not wanting to leave the warmth of your lips against his, “I understand. I just wished that I could’ve protected you from that kind of hurt. You do not deserve that kind of pain,” he continued, resting his forehead against yours.

You didn’t reply to his reassuring words, pulling your lover into a searing kiss, pouring all of your love and affection you held for Lo’ak into the action. You felt guilty for avoiding him for days and that you possibly caused him immense hurt from your words. You wanted him to know that you felt regretful for how you acted.

A soft chuckle fell from Lo’ak lips as they slotted against yours, bringing you even closer by pulling you in by his hands on your face. He knew to take what you had said and how you acted with a grain of salt. He knew that you truly didn’t mean what you said. That you were too overcome with grief to properly think. He was sympathetic towards your situation and tried to understand what you were going through. He would’ve acted the same way if he lost one of his siblings the way you did. He thought you were strong for continuing on even after the traumatic death of your brother. He couldn’t imagine him doing the same if he were in your shoes.

You were the one to pull away from the kiss this time, breathing deeply and heavily as you did so.

“We’ll get through this together. Yeah?” Lo’ak muttered, stroking your jaw with his thumb as he gazed at you through heavy lidded eyes. He wanted to help you in your healing journey and he’d help in any way he could.

You only nodded in response to his words, eyes closing at the repetitive soothing motion of Lo’ak’s thumb on your skin.

You knew that with time, you’d heal and the pain would be easier to deal with, especially if you had Lo’ak by your side. Nothing is ever too broken to be fixed or mended back together and Lo’ak would be there to pick up the pieces if you ever fell back into this state again.

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frodothefair · 4 months ago

Text

Sometimes I become that middle-aged conservative mom (even though I don't have kids, so I suppose a metaphorical mom) who perennially rants about how nobody appreciates her.

I'm not a saint, after all. I crave a little recognition now and then.

An example, recently, has been my chronically online housemate who continues to struggle with her mental health. (Cut for sensitive material).

She's had yet another meltdown over something that happened on twitter (she's a trans person, so maybe that makes sense), and the only reason yet another hospitalization was averted was that her friend came over and took her to her house for the weekend.

So Mr. Nisilë, said friend, and I have been talking a lot about what we can do to help the housemate, and at one point Mr. Nisilë opined that he wishes he were easier to talk to, that we could have created a more supportive environment and engaged with her more, though coming from him, this is a ridiculous statement -- he can build rapport with anyone, which is why I was drawn to him in the first place.

So I went off on him. I ranted that we had done more than enough in letting her into our home in the first place, because she's not family; she's barely even a friend. That we pay her phone bill every month, and buy her groceries when our other house mate, who pays for the majority of her food, is unable to or is unavailable. That we're ok with her lack of hygiene, the state of the bathroom that's closest to her room, her tone-deaf singing and her random yelling. That we routinely drive her places, because she has no car and does not know how to drive, and neither gas nor time is free. That we're ok with her having hookups in her room with people she meets on apps, that we've seen her through two hospitalizations and two attempts on her life; we've hidden sharps, spoken to hospital staff, driven her to appointments and helped her find resources.

Believe you me, I know of what I speak when I say most people wouldn't do this. When I was ten or so, my mother, younger brother, and I had to flee an abusive situation. We were a respectable family in dire straits, a hardworking mother with two well-behaved children, and we had many friends and acquaintances, but everybody denied us a place to stay for completely BS reasons. The only person who didn't was my grandmother's employer. He was a man with an elderly sick mother, and my grandmother worked as their live-in housekeeper and caregiver. The three of us lived in a tiny bedroom in their home for three months -- the bedroom was meant to be my grandmother's, but she slept on the couch.

That is why I will never begrudge our housemate what I do for her. I will never see her as a burden. But to hear that I haven't done enough when I already have done more than 99.9% of the population would do was extremely upsetting. That's different from seeing her as a burden. I can deal with all of the above inconveniences, but I should still be allowed to be angry with her for not acknowledging my efforts, the fact that she f-cking won the lottery between me, Mr. Nisilë, and our other housemate.

A sarcastic voice inside might say, "well, what, do you want a medal now" for hearing people's problems all day and trying to solve them, for your financial contributions, for helping out another person in need?

Well, you know, maybe I do. I do a lot, and none of it is easy, because I have disabilities of my own. I may have some relative privilege, but also disadvantages in spades, from day one. So maybe a simple thank you would be nice -- explicit appreciation of how nice the house we keep is, the fact that we have enough resources to help out, that we don't care about a lot of things that would have been dealbreakers for other people.

But the thing is, the housemate is hardly capable of such a thing. She has too many troubles in her head to think of others, and that's part of her illness. So maybe it is not fair of me to expect that.

It's just that... They say a good deed is its own reward, but sometimes it does not feel like enough.

#personal #cw suicide #cw vent #cw homelessness

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ya-killin-me-smalls · 1 year ago

Note

A while ago you made some Deimos x Teammate headcanons, and they were all absolutely WONDERFUL

Would it be possible to get some Hank x Teammate headcanons? 👀

absolutely!!

headcanons under the cut

2BHank:

obviously gotta start with these two, respect for the elderly and all that

- divorced but it's complicated

- they started out as roommates while Doc was in college and Hank, unbeknownst to Doc at the time, was just getting started at being a menace to society

- they were close. a little too close. but nothing ever came of it aside from a mutual pining

- when Doc began working for the Agency/Nexus it drew a hard line between them. both believed they were doing what was right and that the other was a lost cause

- it turned into a physical fight and Hank did in fact leave Doc for dead

- he got better dw

- fast forward a few years, Doc has swapped sides and is incapable of admitting he was wrong

- Hank is not even a little bit sorry because in his mind it was deserved at the time

- they're different people now though and they both know that. the past is in the past. the world keeps turning

- their relationship has moved beyond platonic since but it's still complicated. they don't have the luxury of deep "what are we" conversations or quality time spent together unless Hank is injured

- regardless, Hank spends whatever downtime he does have in Doc's personal space. he's the type of guy that will just loom over you silently while you're working and patiently wait for Doc to pay attention to him

- Doc still keeps things professional for the sake of professionalism. his guard is only ever truly down when they've retired for the night and he can give Hank every drop of attention he craves

- Hank finds physical touch grounding so on days when his head is a mess and all his thoughts sound like they're underwater, he'll drape himself over Doc's shoulders and try to map out the sensation of him for a while

- "Wimbleton" is as close to a pet name as Doc will ever get. if he uses Hank's first name it's usually when he's mad/annoyed

- Hank doesn't necessarily bite Doc but he's got this weird form of cute aggression that makes him want to put his teeth on him

Hankmos:

yeah I already did this in the last post so what

- their first meeting was the equivalent of finding a wet kitten at the scene of a car accident

- Deimos hadn't yet made a name for himself but was well on his way, torching every stitch of AAHW property he could get his hands on (pyrokinesis Deimos my beloved)

- Hank was sent to raid a cloning facility when it happened. the entire place had gone up in flames and was little more than smoldering debris by the time he got there. he was there to kill everything that moved so of course he had to parse through said debris for any survivors

- what he found was a scrawny fucked up little dude passed out at the center of it all, completely unharmed, the only sign he'd been involved in the fire being the singed remains of his clothes

- interesting enough for Hank to not kill him despite being visibly a clone. instead he wraps Deimos's tiny ass up in his trenchcoat and brings him back to base

- Deimos still wears said trenchcoat because he's a fanboy and nothing will change that

- which also means he glues himself to Hank's hip from day one, not being a nuisance but always in the vicinity, tags along on whatever missions he can, asks Hank to train him in CQB

- and of course Hank grows fond of Deimos. how could he not? his rambling is pleasant background noise that helps keep Hank in the moment, he has a nice smile and laughs a lot, and it doesn't take long for him to become a worthy opponent for Hank

- a lot of their communication is done through body language and micro-expressions. Hank is incredibly perceptive of those subtle shifts and for Deimos it comes naturally

- Deimos goes out of his way to impress Hank. whether that means making stupid jokes to try and get a laugh out of him or showing off on the battlefield at every opportunity, his efforts know no bounds. it makes his heart flutter in a weird way whenever he gets those little signals of approval

- neither is keen on eye contact which works out perfectly, Hank because of the 'tism and Deimos because it feels like someone is trying to square up

- I feel like romantic cannibalism in the literal sense but as a metaphor would suit them so well. there's so much want between them and it's like they can't ever satisfy it. simply touching isn't enough. they need to grab. they need to hold. they need to squeeze. they could become each other and it still wouldn't be enough

- on the outside they play it cool for the most part obviously but the tension is always there. everyone can feel it

Hankford:

woefully underappreciated

- these two have the same vibe and demo and soldier tbh

- Sanford's whole thing is blowing shit up and setting things on fire

- Hank's thing is killing people in increasingly dramatic and violent ways

- combine the two, what more could you want out of a ship

- most of their initial bonding happens over explosions and combat tactics, as well as the inherently homoerotic act of patching each other up during battle

- after a particularly high risk/high reward mission, standing amongst the rubble of what was once a weapons factory and still high on adrenaline and dopamine, Sanford grabs Hank by the lapels of his coat and kisses him

- oh to make out with someone in the aftermath of an explosion

- these two lack a balancing factor. neither needs to be protected by the other. neither has ever been chill a day in their life. both are itching to destroy something at any given moment. they hype each other up and egg on every OSHA violation in the book

- Hank does feel protective towards Sanford because that's just in his nature, but he doesn't feel like he needs to hover or have eyes on him constantly. Sanford has dragged his sorry bleeding ass out of trouble more than once, after all

- Sanford is the king of PDA and they have to establish pretty early on that Hank isn't comfortable with others seeing that much of his private life. holding hands is as far as it goes if others are around

- alone? Sanford can't keep his hands to himself. his favorite thing is to dip Hank when he least expects it just to make him blush

- Hank isn't sure how to reciprocate at first. his hands are meant for crushing and tearing and Sanford is so gentle and tender. it's a learning curve and the way his hands shake when he's excited doesn't help

- they work it out over time together though, Sanford making an effort to lead affection and letting Hank sort out what he likes along the way

- Sanford is Hank's weighted blanket I take no criticism on this

- Sanford calls Hank "Doll". Hank incorrectly interprets this as sarcasm because he can't imagine someone associating him with something delicate or cute

- neither of them is allowed anywhere near the kitchen. not because they can't cook but because neither of them has any impulse control and the microwave will be blown up "for science"

- Sanford, ever observant and a little obsessive, begins mapping out Hank's behaviors and mental state as best as he can. he isn't surprised that Hank is a little fucked up, but there's a lot more going on in their than expected. and Hank, uncharacteristically, does open up to Sanford about the dissociation and memory problems

- Hank has outlawed the word babygirl because it makes him flustered angry

#this took me so long but finals had me in a chokehold the last few weeks #dissociative hank my beloved #i wanna do polycombat too at some point but I gotta finish the Hankmos ficlet I'm working on first 😒#madness combat #madcom #deimos #2bdamned #hank j wimbleton #sanford #hankmos #2bhank #hankford #asks #headcanons

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elfboyeros · 1 month ago

Text

Grimhaven

"Welcome to Grimhaven"

In West Alexandria's capital city, there is the Grimhaven Agency! An outsourcing arm of the government that trains, hires, and sends out Grotesquerie Hunters to protect Willowcrest citizens from the monsters that hunt and harm them

Ah, the first chapter of Grimhaven, this story is supposed more "relaxed". I just trying to have fun with it (I say as if I don't have fun with my other stuff) Things may not contact or make much sense but that's because it's not suppose to lol. Please enjoy. Read about all my nerds and junk

Grotesqueries

Rabid animals in want of human blood, demons of flesh and bone, for as long as one can remember monsters have infected the world along with the human race. In a modern age, one need not worry about leaving the homestand and dying instantly. However cannibalistic monsters far too similar to humans still hide in the shadows waiting for the time to feed.

Little blue, squinted eyes stare up at a tubular building resembling a large, tall office building covered in tinted windows in the middle of a bustling city. A black-haired, ivory-skinned man stands on the sidewalk, in a long sand-colored trench coat, black turtleneck, black slacks, and black shoes. His face displays a clear look of disdain while looking upon the building in front of him.

“Mr. Otto! Hemlock Otto!”

His name comes from a rather posh feminine voice in front of him. Taking his eyes off the building, he sees the vision of an elderly white woman dressed in a long, light lime-colored skirt and a rather vintage-looking blouse. Cane in hand, she sweeps the ground in front of her as she walks, fading green hair up, with bangs swooping to one side of her face.

“You have to speak, boy, or I don’t know where you are!” she says in a stern tone.

“I’m here ma’am,” Hemlock replies, moving closer to her so doesn’t walk too far into the sidewalk, her cane smacking the side of his shoes before stating calmly, “I’m in front of you.”

She smiles letting out a light chuckle. “Very good!”

He can see the scarring over her eyes, now closer to her. If he had to guess, she was burned with acid years ago. “With all due respect ma’am, I—”

“Shush now! I don’t want to hear about this “I work alone, this system isn’t for me.” This is for your benefit, sir, do not get arrested!” she interrupted, “Now come!”

“Mrs. Whitlock,” Hemlock exclaims as the older woman swiftly turns around and walks back into the building. He follows.

She leads him through the automatic doors, into a barren first level of an office building. If this is supposed to be the great agency of hunters in the city, it looks like pure shit, with its pale walls, willing plants, large, tinted windows, and uncomfortable-looking couches.

“Mrs. Whitlock it is quiet—”

“Pay this no mind! It is simply a cover, a safety between the real world and us.” She remarks, “And enough with the formalities! Call me Granny Gwyn!”

As Gwyndolyn and Hemlock walked through, two young individuals stood off to the side watching them. A woman with duel-colored hair, blonde on the left and pistachio green on the right, bisque skin, and pale olive eyes. Wearing an oversized neutral-colored sweater, a pleated skirt, stockings that matched her skin color, and tall-heeled boots. Next to her was a man, clearly related to her, given their shared skin tone and eye color only he’s hair is blonde. He wears an acid green beret matching the accents on his light brown oversized cotton vest that overlays a cream button-up shirt tucked into his brown slacks that barely reach his dark brown dress shoes.

“This is our punishment,” the man sighed.

“It’s not a punishment, Caelyn,” the woman replied.

“The craziest vigilante in the Willowcrest inducted into the agency, and put under your care—”

“Most, if not all, of the GGHs are “under my care”, he’s not going to be any different.”

“Blythe—”

“I don’t know why you are so worried,” Blythe scoffs. Heading for the stairs. “You don’t even work here.”

“But I do live here, and you’re my sister!” Caelyn exclaims, following after her.

Hemlock presses the elevator call button before stating, “Mrs. Gwyndolyn, I have very little faith that this becoming a GGH will make much of a difference for me.”

“Yet, it will keep you from going to jail for Five years!” Gwyndolyn declares as the elevator dings before the doors open. “We are starting to floor seven, son.”

Hemlock observes the many buttons on the display. There are 5 floors below and 64 above. “I have no need to show you the basement floors, our forensics lab, our garage, and some other department that lives down there, places I doubt would be of any interest to you,” Gwyndolyn comments.

Hemlock shrugs, “I wouldn’t mind seeing the garage at some point. If I have to work here for the rest of my career.”

“You like cars?”

“Motorcycles,” Hemlock simply replies, “but I also like cars.”

“My husband loves motorcycles.” Gwyndolyn coos softly before the elevator opens.

The two steps out in the small area hosting the elevators, soft warm natural-colored walls reminded Hemlock of the old childhood memories of Hemlock going to the family doctor with his mother.

“I’ll have you meet the secretary. I know you; hunters feel a center way about offices and desks, but if you need an office one can be provided to you, and it will be on this floor,” Gwendolyn explains as she and Hemlock walk down the hallway.

Hemlock hums before stopping at a door in about the middle of the hallway. A dark door with a placard reading secretary. After smacking her cane on the bottom of the door the bottom of the door, the same blonde man with an acid green hat who had been watching them before, opens it.

“Hi granny,” Caelyn says with a smile.

“Is your sister in?” Gwyndolyn asks as she enters, Hemlock slowly entering behind her.

Cream-colored walls, walnut-colored furniture, black filing cabins, a large neatly cluttered desk in the center, a nice cream couch against the wall next to the desk with a green quilt hanging off the back of it, and pictures and degrees on the wall.

“I’m right here granny,” A Blythe remarks standing up from squatting down to get into the bottom drawer in a filing cabinet. Looking up from the thick file in hand, the duel-haired young woman smiles at the sight of Gwyndolyn and Hemlock, “Welcome to The Grimhaven Agency.”

Hemlock quickly observes many things silently. Everyone in the room talks in a posh manner. Gwyndolyn is the poshest of the three. The young man in the room is not fond of him. The office feels very lived in. The young woman in front of him has a beautiful smile—a smile that pulls locked-away memories of lost love to the front of Hemlock’s mind and gives him the beginnings of a splitting headache.

“I’m Blythe Rosenheim,” Blythe informs sticking a handout for Hemlock to shake.

“Hemlock Otto,” he replies shaking her hand.

“I’ll report to me for most of your needs,” she adds, “assignments, testimonies, excreta.”

Hemlock nods, his mouth open ready to ask the young girl a question before Gwyndolyn taps her cane on the ground, “Alright there is more for you to see,” she comments, heading for the door.

“Have a nice day granny,” Blythe calls as Gwyndolyn and Hemlock leave her office.

“Who was the blonde boy?” Hemlock asks.

“Caelyn,” Gwyndolyn simply replies, “Was he giving you evil looks?”

“He didn’t seem fond of my presence.”

“Pay him no mind. He is just a little boy angry at the world.”

Hemlock hums as they approach the elevator, he presses the call button and steps into the elevator with Gwyndolyn waiting for her instructions.

“Floor 4, son.”

The older woman leads Hemlock to the many floors, departments, and areas in The Grimhaven Agency building as if he were a dog. The fitness center, the infirmary, the armory, the cafeteria, and even the garage. He was her little pup, chasing after her dress strings as if they were toys, disputes not having an interest in the Grimhaven Agency, and its bureaucracy around the hunter society he had been in since his early 20s. However, he does listen and observe, because the great Hemlock Otto- Willowcrest's most prolific vigilante grotesquerie hunter- would rather die a hunter under the Grimhaven Agency than in a prison cell.

“Alright son,” Gwyndolyn sighs, “You now have freedom to do as you must until 6, unless you have changed your mind about living here.”

“No, Mrs. Gwyndolyn, I have not.”

Gwyndolyn ticks her tongue on the roof of her mouth, “At least call me Mrs. Gwyn, enough of the Gwyndolyn shit.”

“Apologizes, my mother raised me to be polite.”

Gwyndolyn hums, “I hope to hear more about your mother,” she comments before heading off, “Enjoy your first day, son.”

Hemlock watched the older woman toddle away, before getting into the elevator once again to go back up to the seventh floor to Blythe’s office. Knocking on her door, she remarks a soft “Come in.”

Sitting behind a multi-monitor computer, eyebrows raised at Hemlock coming through her door, “You’re not moving in?” she asks.

“I have my own apartment,” he replied.

Blythe hums, “Well, I have nothing for you today. " She explains, “Everything is either taken or occupied. If I had known you weren’t moving in today, I would have called you out.”

Hemlock sighs, “If you would like to stay to see if anything new comes in, you are more than welcome to,” Blythe adds.

He settles on the couch, a hand resting on his cheek. The comforting sounds of Blythe’s fingers hitting the key on the keyboard, the comfortable temperature, and the smell of eucalyptus and green tea lulled him to sleep.

“DREW! DREW!”

“COME ON STAY WITH ME!”

“Hemlock…”

“It’ll be okay, It’ll be okay! I gotcha babe, stay with me!”

“Hemlock…”

“DREW!”

Hemlock bolts up out of his nightmare, with the same blanket on the back of the couch now on his lap as he lays across the small couch, having no recollection of lying on the couch or grabbing the blanket.

He let out a heavy sigh, sitting on the couch properly he rests his elbows on his knees before putting his head in his hands.

“Who are they?” Blythe asks, softly.

“Huh?”

“Who is Drew?” she replies.

Hemlock looked up at her, and she looked at him with a pitiful gaze before he sighed heavily once again, “My girlfriend.”

This silence blankets them. It’s not comfortable, but it’s not awkward; it’s just silent. The room still has a nice temperature, and the smell of eucalyptus and green tea is still in the air. However, it’s fainter than before, and there is no soft tapping of keys on a typeset.

“Go home, Hemlock,” Blythe instructs.

“I’m fin—”

“It’s 6 p.m., go home,” she remarks interrupting him, “I make sure there is something for you first thing tomorrow.”

Hemlock stands, “Have a nice night, Blythe,” he mutters before leaving her office to get back into the elevator for the umpteenth, exit the agency, hop on his motorcycle, and head home.

Entering his apartment, he shrugs off his coat and tosses it on the back of the couch after pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting it while heading to his kitchen.

His apartment is a modern style yet rather sparse of personal objects that would add to a comforting clutter. The only light in his space was from the overhead light above the stove in the kitchen, and the light coming through the large windows.

Placing a pan on the stovetop, Hemlock pulls a couple of eggs from the fridge. With his nightmare about 15 minutes ago, he knew he couldn’t keep an “actual” dinner down, thus scrambled eggs would do.

While he cooked, sounds could be heard behind him. They were not the normal settling sounds of a building; they were almost inhuman sounds of something approaching him.

His cigarette rests in an ashtray near him, and he transfers his eggs onto a plate. The same inhuman sounds approached him slowly from behind him.

In one swift motion, he takes the hot frying pan he was using and smacks whatever is behind him, hitting something between a solid and a liquid. Hemlock turned around quickly facing a type of creature his is all too familiar with.

Animalistic in both appearance and nature, the creature is almost deer-like with muted colors. Unnaturally long in an uncanny way, very thin with a rib cage that is almost exposed, back hunched in an uncomfortable-looking way. Struggling to stand on the traction-less floor with its pencil-thin legs, it looks at Hemlock with deep soulless eyes that bulged out of their sockets before roaring a loud, screeching roar showing off its many teeth.

A grotesquerie, in his apartment!

“FUCK!” Hemlock shouts, racing out of the kitchen.

Barely making it out into the living area, he is rammed in the back sending him into the hardwood floors of his apartment. The creature gnaws at his legs, his thick pants preventing its sharp teeth from touching Hemlock's skin.

In the past seven years of being a private (and illegal) grotesquerie hunter, Hemlock has never struggled as much as he has now. Yes, normally, he has a weapon, yet the government confiscated any weapons he had in his positions when that finally “caught” him, even though he had legally obtained all the weapons he owned. Yet even with his fist, he can normally do enough to get at least free.

Kicking the grotesquerie in the face with his free foot, getting his leg free, however, the grotesquerie then chopped down on his forearm actually breaking the skin and digging into his skin.

It felt like time was going by so painfully slowly as he kicked at the beast atop him and lay on the floor with the stinging pain of the creature's teeth in his forearm. His front door is then slammed open, smacking into the wall after being taken off its hinges forcibly.

Then a gunshot.

Shot clean between the eyes, the grotesquerie flops into Hemlock's lap. When looking in the direction of the gunshot, “Blythe?!”

Panting in the doorway of his front door was that duel-haired secretary in her oversized sweater and pleaded skirt, with a compact handgun in hand. “You should have agreed to live at Grimhaven,” Blythe huffs.

His pain is too great to come up with a comeback. After Blythe helps him off the floor, they go back to Grimhaven, where he was being doctored by a sanatorium nurse, before reluctantly agreeing with Gwyndolyn that he should live in one of the penthouse apartments in the Grimhaven building. A lack of personal items makes the collection of his things smoother than presumed by those at Grimhaven, allowing Hemlock’s move to take just a day.

“Fuck,” he curses, attempting to pick up one of the large paintings he had in his old apartment.

He can hear a door open across the hallway, turning around swiftly to apologize for the noise he’s making, he lets out a sarcastic little chuckle when his eyes meet Blythe’s.

Leaning against her apartment’s doorframe, a foot resting against her other leg’s calf in a pair of cotton shorts, an oversized sweatshirt with the embroidered text of her alma mater across the chest, and hair clipped up and out of her face.

“Do you need help?” she asks.

“No, I’m fine,” Hemlock muttered, attempting to pick up the painting again, only to lose his grip and have the wooden backing of the canvas slam into the wrapped wound on his arm, “SHIT!”

“Let me help,” Blythe scoffs.

With Blythe on one side of the hefty canvas and Hemlock on the other, the two of them easily placed the painting safely in his apartment. “I’ll figure out where to put it later,” Hemlock muttered.

Blythe hums looking around his living space and seeing all the other paintings already hung up on the walls, “Do you paint?”

“No, these were all made for me,” Hemlock answers.

“Who did them?” Blythe asks, “They’re beautiful.”

“My girlfriend,” he remarks quietly.

Blythe hums once again, “Is she the reason you didn’t want to live here?”

Hemlock doesn’t answer, rather he passes by Blythe to head to the kitchen, “You know she can visit you. She can even live here with you if she wants, this is the safest place in all of Willowcrest, probably even all of West Alexandria—”

“She’s dead,” Hemlock states, making Blythe freeze, “And even if Drew was alive…”

“Hemlock, I’m so sorry,” Blythe gasps.

“Don’t apologize, it’s not like you knew,” Hemlock shrugs, “Unlike how you knew I was in danger yesterday.”

“Tracking software is put on all GGH devices whether they are provided by the agency or not,” Blythe explains, “I took advantage of your nap yesterday to put the software on your phone.”

“And the Grimhaven secretary just carries a gun?”

“I need a way to practice myself,” she comments.

“Well thank you for saving my life,” Hemlock replies.

Blythe flashes him a small smile, heading back to her apartment, “Have a nice night, Hemlock.”

“You too, Blythe.”

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