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carewyncromwell · 1 year

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“You can paint me any color,

And I can be your clown,

But you ain’t got my number --

No, you can’t pin me down!”

~“Can’t Pin Me Down” by Marina and the Diamonds

x~x~x~x

includes references to Adelia Selwyn @thatravenpuffwitch; Atticus Grimsley and Montelimar Bloom @cursebreakerfarrier; Orla Atkinson @nightmaresart; Io Gordon @drinkyoursoupbitch; and Siyana Devonshire @dat-silvers-girl! 💚

x~x~x~x

Aesop Sharp was not a man completely devoid of patience. One truly couldn’t hope to teach anyone -- or even to stay sane, dealing with students like Garreth Weasley on the regular -- if they didn’t have a little of it. But when it came to dealing with fifth year Slytherin Jackson Knightly, Sharp found himself incredibly frustrated.

Jackson had been a late arrival to Potions class when he arrived at Hogwarts for his second year, just like one of Sharp’s personal favorite students, fellow Slytherin Adelia Selwyn. Unlike his best friend, though, Jackson was not at all attuned to Potions. Not only was he enough of a troublemaker that he was perfectly willing to smuggle ingredients to the likes of Garreth Weasley on a whim, he very frequently neglected to take brews off the fire before they exploded or forgot crucial steps in the middle of brewing. Sharp would frequently remind Jackson to stop daydreaming in class (which he was very prone to do), but rather than it snapping the boy back to any sort of attention or making him reflect on doing better, he would almost inevitably lose focus again, not long after Sharp moved on. And the last thing Aesop Sharp wanted to be was a bloody nanny.

When Sharp spoke to his colleague and Slytherin’s Head of House, Abraham Ronen, about his frustrations, Ronen merely laughed.

“Ah, Aesop,” he said jovially, “you have not taught students as long as I have. Young Jackson’s behavior is truly nothing out of the ordinary. Many a student has found themselves more able to focus on those things they have personal investment in over those things that don’t spark their imagination. I would think a fellow Slytherin alumnus such as yourself would be very attuned to that.”

“I am already very well aware of how much Mr. Knightly prefers your teaching style to mine,” said Sharp very coolly. “He is definitely your kind of student. But I am not about to start playing Gobstones with bottles of Shrinking Solution just to try to earn a single student’s favor -- and Mr. Knightly should learn to see the value in all of his classes, however lacking of entertainment he may find them to be.”

Ronen gave Sharp a pat to the shoulder. “Of course. It behooves him, and all of our students, to learn how to work well with a wide array of people. But you know, even we professors need to re-learn that too, once in a while...sometimes through students we find challenging to teach.”

A flicker of amusement seemed to dance in the older man’s eye.

“You say Jackson is my kind of student -- and yes, for certain he is. Talented, amiable, excitable, curious...incredibly witty, and yet surprisingly sensitive -- I’d say Eleazar and Madam Kogawa are just as fond of the boy as I am, and they’re not even his Head of House! But truly, I think you might find Jackson’s a very promising student in his own way...perhaps even in your class. Why, if even Atticus Grimsley can find it in his heart to like Jackson as a student, despite all the trouble he gets up to outside of class, surely you could.”

Sharp was skeptical of this thought process until the day following the invigorating Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor that spring. The Potionsmaster himself had not been present at the Pitch -- he’d had much more pressing matters to research in the Hogwarts library -- but he heard the school matron, Noreen Blainey, complaining to Ronen about it the following morning at breakfast.

“ -- poor boy got that hexed Bludger straight to the face, Professor! It broke his nose in five places! And yet he’s absolutely refused to come to me for treatment!”

“Jackson seems to be doing better now, Madam,” Ronen tried to soothe her, but she wasn’t having any of it.

“Only because he’s off brewing his own Wiggenweld Potions to mask the damage! He barely avoided getting knocked unconscious! That damage undoubtedly went below the surface. And yet somehow Mr. Knightly managed to slip right out from under everyone in the stands before they could send him to me, polished himself up, and now he’s cheerfully acting like he’s fine, despite barely being able to see straight!”

Ronen frowned. “Hm...perhaps I can convince Jackson to get a full physical exam. I’m certain if we emphasize our concern for his well-being -- ”

“Concern!” scoffed the nurse. “Unlikely! That boy wouldn’t even come to me for help when he got burned by Streeler venom, Professor. He’s almost as stubborn as Aesop Sharp, when it comes to accepting professional Healing advice...”

Sharp couldn’t help but cock his eyebrows very coolly at that, but ultimately chose not to join the conversation. It had made some gears turn in his head as it was, so he decided to dwell on the matter alone over breakfast.

Jackson Knightly brewing his own Wiggenweld Potions? Now that seemed thoroughly unlikely. Knightly had never been so competent to brew a potion he could safely ingest without proper oversight. It had to have been Miss Selwyn who helped him with it -- or perhaps Montelimar Bloom: the Ravenclaw did have a tendency to come to Jackson’s rescue, when he was in trouble. Even Bloom’s best friend Orla Atkinson was well known at being talented with healing magic...

Sharp’s eyes flitted over to the Slytherin table absently. He could see Adelia Selwyn and Jackson’s dormmates, Ominis Gaunt and Sebastian Sallow, sitting there -- even Gryffindor’s Beater, Io Gordon, had apparently left her own table to go over and talk to Adelia -- but no Jackson Knightly...

His left eyebrow raising with interest, Sharp sidled to his feet carefully, before trudging out of the Great Hall and back toward the stairs leading down to the dungeons.

Blasted leg, Sharp cursed inwardly. His lack of agility would never not irritate the ex-Auror -- he would’ve loved it if he could just Apparate up and down to different floors without climbing so many damned stairs, but the magic within the school’s walls was far too powerful to allow for that.

Eventually, though, Sharp did make it back to his classroom -- and as soon as he arrived, his sharp ears immediately perked up when he picked out the distinctive sound of something bubbling in a cauldron.

Well, that could easily end in disaster, being attempted by the wrong student.

The image of Garreth Weasley blowing up his third potion that month rippled over Sharp’s mind.

Reflecting back on his old stealth training, the ex-Auror sidled into the classroom as quietly as he possibly could with his clunky leg, easing the door open so carefully that it didn’t give the slightest creak. When his eyes landed on the workstation being used, however, Sharp was a bit startled by what he found.

It was indeed Jackson Knightly. But rather than being in the company of someone helping him, he was working completely on his own, his back to Sharp as he counted out three -- four -- five lionfish spines, and then dropped them one by one into the cauldron. He kept glancing at the potion off-and-on, humming something absently, as he poured himself a cup of tea from a nearby teapot and mixed in some sugar. Once the potion had turned yellow, he tossed in five more spines, as well as some flobberworm mucus. Then Jackson sipped his tea, still humming absently, as he watched the potion turn purple.

Sharp stood in the door frame, his arms crossed, as he silently watched Jackson work. The Slytherin was in his own little world during the entire process -- eating toast, drinking tea, and even reading out of a tiny book that couldn’t possibly be for Potions while waiting for certain reactions to take place -- but he still did every step perfectly, all seemingly from memory. There were definitely points, though, where Jackson had to pause in the middle, close his eyes, and massage his temple as he took deep breaths -- clearly his head was still hurting him.

Sharp didn’t make himself known until Jackson took the potion off the fire at last. Once the potion had started to cool, he actually brought his hands together in a slow clap.

Jackson looked up, startled, as Sharp approached.

“A perfectly brewed Wiggenweld Potion,” said the Potionsmaster.

Despite being taken aback by his sudden audience, Jackson very quickly put on a big grin and gave a sweeping bow.

“To earn a ‘perfect’ assessment from you is high praise indeed, Master Sharp,” the fifteen-year-old said with a dashing smirk.

“Indeed,” Sharp said airily. “I would hardly have believed it of you, if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

The professor’s brows were raised high over his eyes as he considered Jackson a bit more carefully. There wasn’t any cosmetic damage to his face -- but true to what the school matron had said, Jackson’s blue eyes looked slightly unfocused and lacking of light. That lack of consciousness was something Sharp recognized immediately as indicative of a mild head injury.

“...You should take a seat,” Sharp said lowly. “Ingesting anything is best done in a seated position.”

Jackson gave a laugh. “Not when one is drinking one of these on the Dueling Field! My dear Lala -- Orla Atkinson, you know -- she gets competitive enough as it is. If I took the time to sit down and have fairy cakes with my potions, I reckon I’d have to ingest even more of both, once she was done with me!”

The brown-haired boy acted as flippant as ever as he wandered around the table to fetch his teacup. He played off the slight stumble in his step, as well as the slight clumsiness to his settling himself down on the edge of his workstation. Carefully ladling some of his finished potion out of his cauldron and into his half-finished tea, he then gave a long sip from the cup, exhaling lowly as he lowered the ladle and rubbed his temple. Then he plastered a smile back on as he addressed Sharp.

“Would you care for some tea yourself, Professor?” asked Jackson politely. “I borrowed the recipe from my sweetest little unicorn, Miss Devonshire, and it really is sublime...”

“No, thank you,” said Sharp.

“Oh, come now!” Jackson egged him on. “It’s still early morning -- I would think a cup of masala chai would be a good way to start the day off right.”

Sharp cocked an eyebrow. “Perhaps it would -- if it were being enjoyed in the Great Hall, with the rest of one’s breakfast. But you seem to have neglected that.”

Jackson shrugged.

“Wasn’t feeling quite my best,” he said offhandedly. “But no matter -- I’ll be feeling right as rain, with a bit more of this -- ”

He ladled some more of the Wiggenweld Potion into his teacup. Sharp’s lips knit together.

“It might take a stronger potion than that to deal with the aftermaths of a concussion, young man.”

Jackson’s smile flickered ever-so-slightly as Sharp sidled clumsily across the room over to his desk.

“Oh, it -- it’s not nearly as bad as all that,” said Jackson, trying to keep the smile on despite how weak it suddenly seemed. He put down his teacup on the tray at his workstation. “I’ve dealt with far worse than this. Broken bones, glass embedded in my feet, Streeler venom...even got thrown head-first into a stone wall once, and I’m still standing! Dare I say, perhaps better than ever!”

His mouth spread into a brighter white smile. The Slytherin boy’s voice strangely didn’t come across as arrogant or blustering, however -- instead, it seemed almost reassuring: as if he wanted to comfort his professor so he wouldn’t worry.

Sharp, however, was blunt in his response.

“You may dispense with the pretenses, Knightly -- you’re not as good of an actor as you think you are.”

Jackson actually couldn’t help but pout at this.

“Bad form, sir,” he said rather coolly. “Insult my potionmaking, by all means, but to insult my performance ability overall? That is supremely ungentlemanly.”

Sharp actually couldn’t bite back a small smirk of his own. “I have been called worse things.”

Once he eased himself down in his chair, Sharp rested his hands on his desk, clasping them together as he regarded Jackson with a more serious expression.

“...You seem to know this particular brew quite well, to recall all of the steps from memory.”

The professor’s eyes flitted down to the book left open at Jackson’s station. As he’d thought, it wasn’t a book of Potions notes -- it instead seemed to be a book of poetry, judging by the few words he could make out upside down.

Jackson gave another shrug and offhand smile. “Well, as they say, practice makes perfect.”

“Indeed -- for you to brew it so well, it’s clear you’ve practiced quite frequently. Undoubtedly out of a necessity for it.”

Jackson’s dashing white smile became a bit cheekier. “What can I say? Trouble is a friend I run into quite often.”

“I’m well aware,” said Sharp coolly.

He paused. Then, after a moment, he said stridently,

“For the injury you’ve sustained, however, I do not think a Wiggenweld Potion alone would heal the damage.”

Jackson opened his mouth as if to speak, but Sharp cut him off.

“And since it’s rather obvious that you don’t wish a Healer’s input on what treatment would be suitable...allow me to, at the very least, give you some advice on what potion would be a better solution.”

The Potions professor eased himself up and out of his chair, awkwardly stomping over to his own station at the head of the class.

“Follow me,” he said brusquely.

Startled, Jackson got to his feet. He was frozen for only a moment, before he’d hurriedly rushed over to walk right alongside Sharp like a shadow. When Sharp reached his station, Jackson’s focus was abruptly drawn to the other side of the room.

“Your attention, please, Kn -- ”

Before Sharp could finish, though, Jackson had flung out his hand, and in an instant, the closest stool had glided across the room and into his open hands.

Sharp’s mouth was left slightly open, as Jackson brought the stool right up behind his professor with a smile.

“Here, sir,” he said, his charming face betraying some genuine kindness. “Allow me.”

Sharp stared down at the fifteen-year-old boy. Then he very quickly cleared his throat.

“...Ahem -- yes. Thank you.”

He sat down on the stool. Jackson then summoned one wandlessly for himself and positioned it next to Sharp’s.

“How long have you been able to summon things without a wand?” asked Sharp.

Jackson smiled brightly. “Quite a while, actually -- since I was ten, at least. Maybe even nine. I was right on the cusp when I first learned I had magic, you see. I’m not quite as good at wandless Charms as I am with Transfiguration, though -- conjuring flowers and doves is what I did most, in those days...”

Sharp’s eyebrows were rather high as he took this in.

“I know it can be kind of dangerous, to not use a wand to channel your magic,” Jackson said amiably. “Professor Weasley’s warned me of that, a few times, what with the risk of becoming an Obscurus and all. But...well, I was solely among Muggles, back then. Didn’t exactly have the means to go out and buy myself a proper wand, let alone any spellbooks. Truth be told, I....didn’t even own a wand until I returned to Britain, in time for my second year at Hogwarts. And truly, I am very fond of my wand -- she’s a most lovely thing. I just sometimes fall back on old habits.”

Wandless magic at only nine years old? Not only that, but wandless conjuration -- one of the most difficult branches of Transfiguration, largely set aside for students approaching the NEWT level? Despite himself, Sharp was actually rather impressed.

“...Hm. Well...if you can muster up the proper attention span, you could always speak to Professor Onai about such things. Uagadou is well known for teaching its students the art of wandless magic.”

Sharp turned to his station.

“Now, then -- watch closely. This brew is called the Syrup of Asphodel. It’s actually rather simple in its ingredients, but you will have to grind the asphodel root down to a fine powder and mix everything in just the right order, for it to be effective...”

Sharp stopped talking and set to work straight away. In the beginning, he could sense Jackson watching him -- before long, though, the boy once again seemed to drift off, his eyes gliding away toward the far corner of the room.

“Pay attention, Knightly,” said Sharp. “I don’t intend to demonstrate this twice.”

“My apologies, sir,” said Jackson.

Despite this, though, his blue eyes once again were drawn to the unfinished tea service at his station.

“...Sir?”

“What is it?”

“Are you quite sure you wouldn’t like a cup of tea? I should think the potionmaking process would be a lot more enjoyable, if one partook in some tea in the midst of it...”

“I’m in no need of distractions, Mr. Knightly,” said Sharp airily, “and truthfully, neither are you. You get distracted enough in my class without adding a pot of tea to the mix.”

Jackson frowned slightly.

“Perhaps...” he granted. “But you said yourself that I brewed a perfect Wiggenweld Potion, while I was indulging in just such a cup of tea. And reading some lovely poems, for that matter.”

Sharp paused in his work to glance at Jackson out the side of his eye. The fifteen-year-old had taken out his wand and used it to levitate the tea service a bit more gently over to a table closer by.

“Forgive my impertinence, Professor,” said the Slytherin teenager as he got up and started fussing with his tea set, while still glancing over his shoulder toward Sharp at his station, “but for me, such ‘distractions’ as you call them are not a hindrance. My mind is prone to wander, as you know -- ”

Sharp gave a low, amused snort at the gross understatement.

“ -- but one thing that prevents that, for me, is constant action,” Jackson pressed on, unabashed. “Channeling my energy into physical activity -- even if it’s simply indulging in a cup of tea or parsing through works of Edgar Allan Poe -- ”

He summoned the book of poetry over to him with another wave of his wand, opening it to a certain page and perusing it before he returned his focus to Sharp’s station again.

“ -- I suppose it anchors me in the here and now, as it were. It gives me a reason to stay here, on the ground -- multiple reasons, in fact, all of which interest me. Whereas such austere silence -- complete stillness and undivided focus...it makes my mind restless. Like a dog being asked to walk around on two legs. It feels unnatural -- makes me prone to twitch about, just to try to get comfortable. And sooner or later, whoosh -- off I go toward a more exciting daydream, and all focus is gone.”

Massaging his sore temple a bit more with one hand, Jackson nonetheless beamed over his shoulder at Sharp.

“I confess -- it saddens me greatly that I lose my focus so easily in your class. You do so seem to love your subject.”

“How kind,” Sharp said coolly. With a tired sigh, he said, “Very well. I shall continue my work on this potion, while you do whatever you feel you must, to stay engaged. But as I said, I have no intention of demonstrating this twice -- so if your method of ‘anchoring’ yourself proves ineffective in helping you internalize my lesson, then that’s solely on your own head.”

Jackson grinned. “Understood, sir.”

And so Sharp continued brewing his potion. As he did, he could once again feel Jackson’s eyes on him, though rather intermittently, since the boy was also rifling through the book of poems, cleaning out spare potion bottles with his wand, and brewing a fresh pot of tea as he watched. At some points, Jackson even asked questions -- good ones, to Sharp’s surprise.

“When doubling such a recipe, would one simply double the ingredients, or just the amount of salt water? If one considers the potential for asphodel poisoning.”

“You would add a pinch more root for every three drops of salt water,” Sharp answered.

“And the best way to safely amplify the potion’s effects?”

“Add a half cup of dittany. It’s a resilient enough plant to not curdle in the face of asphodel when mixed in, and yet it’s soothing enough to not actively conflict with its effects.”

Jackson looked thoughtful. “Hm...would a pinch of ginger not conflict? Ginger’s supposed to be good for one’s digestion -- it might help make the tonic a bit more palatable.”

Sharp glanced back at Jackson over his shoulder with some interest.

“...Not a bad suggestion,” he said.

After a few minutes, Sharp finished off the potion and began to empty the contents of his cauldron into a vial. As he did, Jackson dropped off the second of the cups of tea he’d poured out down on Sharp's desk, not far away from the station he was working at.

“Here you are, sir,” he said politely.

“And there you are,” Sharp said crisply. With the potion vial full, he held it out for Jackson to take. “Syrup of Asphodel -- made up of nothing but salt water and, as one can expect, powdered root of asphodel. Do you remember how many drops of salt water one requires?”

“Three per dosage,” Jackson said promptly.

“And how many times did I stir this potion?” asked Sharp, as he lumbered back over to his desk.

Jackson considered this. He seemed to be counting in his own head.

“Let’s see...once when I sat down, twice before I lost focus -- three when I did. Four after I summoned the tray -- five, six...seven when I reread Lenore -- eight, nine...nine, yes, I believe it was nine?”

“Correct,” said Sharp. He placed his hand down on the desk so as to ease himself down into his chair. “Clockwise or counterclockwise?”

Jackson’s eyes drifted up toward the ceiling thoughtfully. “...All clockwise except for the first and last two.”

“Very good,” said Sharp, and indeed, he did sound rather pleased. “It seems there truly is a method to get you to pay attention to my lessons.”

Jackson grinned that bit more mischievously. “Glad to hear you’ll be more indulgent of me inviting my friend Lord Byron to class with me in the future, Professor!”

“Don’t push your luck,” Sharp said airily. “I’m still not thoroughly convinced this wasn’t some sort of practical joke on your part.”

His impish grin spreading that bit more, Jackson brought the vial up to his lips and downed its contents. Within seconds, he shuddered, but the breath he exhaled was full to the brim with relief and relaxation.

“...Ahhh...” he sighed happily as he brought a hand up to his forehead. “Oh, that does feel better...”

Sharp nodded in satisfaction. “Good to hear it.”

Jackson washed the potion down with the rest of his tea before turning to Sharp with a visibly more relaxed smile.

“Thank you for your time, sir,” he said. “And your lesson -- they’re both greatly appreciated.”

“You’re welcome,” said Sharp. “Now don’t you have some other lessons to get to? One thing I’ve learned is that however poor one’s health may be, one can’t easily justify not going to class, if he intends to not rest in the Hospital Wing.”

Jackson laughed. “No, I jolly well suppose not.”

Sharp indicated the door with a nod of his head. “Off you go, then.”

As Jackson made as if to go, though, he paused in the door frame and looked back with an odd, almost compassionate expression.

“...Sir, I really think you should try the chai,” he said gently. “Miss Devonshire recommended it to me for pain relief. Muggle remedy it might be...I would think it still might soothe some of the pain in your leg.”

Sharp paused. His dark eyes flitted down to the cup of tea in front of him to back up at the kindly boy in his door frame.

Then, very slowly, the Potions professor’s gaze seemed to lose some of its edge. It made his features look much less critical than before, though no less discerning.

“...Mm. I see.”

Sharp gave Jackson a muted incline of his head.

“...Thank you.”

Jackson’s face spread into a bright, charming white grin as he swept out of the room and back up the stairs at a run. Sharp himself also found himself smirking ever-so-slightly once he’d disappeared from view.

Jackson Knightly was certainly not his type of student -- but, Sharp had to admit as he picked up the cup of masala chai and silently enjoyed the soothing scent and taste of the brew -- he was a promising one, all the same. So long as he actually applied himself properly.

#hphl #my writing #jackson knightly #aesop sharp #abraham ronen #adelia selwyn #orla atkinson #montelimar bloom #siyana devonshire #io gordon #my fanfiction #oh my gosh yay I actually got to write some jackson content?!#I've missed my showman boy #yes jackson has undiagnosed ADHD #so moving around and keeping his hands and feet busy tends to help him with remembering things #even just reading things aloud helps him study #jackson and my other legacy era kids aren't 'mc' from the game just for the record #they just live in that era but won't follow any of the game's story #so yeah if you want your kids to interact with them it should be easy since they'll be doing their own thing outside the canon story

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scoutswritingcorner · 7 months

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Carelessly Curious

Cursed Cat Alastor Fic

Ft. Alastor x GN! Reader

A/N: More cursed cat Alastor cause it’s 2:38am and I’m having to stay up all night.

TW: Blood, talks of eating a body (mostly Cursed Cat Alastor), Alastor x GN!Reader shenanigans.

The few times your little cat friend was around and the one time Alastor got jealous.

You noticed a trend with the weird cat thing that looked like Alastor, everywhere you went the cat was not far behind. The only exception was if Alastor was actually near you, the cat would be behind a corner or a door watching every move. You would find it creepy but..it does the exact same thing Alastor does. It just stands and stares like Alastor when he doesn’t have anything particular to say or he’s trying to gauge how the room is.

Satan forbid if Lucifer got too close to you, the cat would literally start to vibrate as static and eerie growls left its mouth. It even tried to bite the King. You kept apologizing to him, having to rightfully shoo the cat away so you could have a conversation with Lucifer. Only for the cat to come back with a vengeance of 30 angry men.

Your favorite thing about the cat is how it just tends to take up the space in your lap if you're not busy- or whenever you're extremely busy with helping the front desk answer calls. It’s favorite thing (or you thought) was when it brought you body parts from the people it killed. It always sucked having to get blood out of your clothes, but Alastor was always helpful with that situation. The cat always dropped it in your lap staring at you but then realized you didn’t eat demon flesh and in turn devoured the limb easily bone and all.

The next few hours of your day had passed by slowly as you did your routine around the hotel, soft tip taps of paws following after you as a soft hum of radio static. Then the soft taps stopped as Alastor appeared next to you, pulling you into a slow dance by carefully spinning you around until you leaned into his arms, soft jazz playing from his microphone. You immediately smiled, leaning your head against his chest as he hummed along to the music. “No broadcast today?” You asked after a while leaning back as the soft tune turned into something more upbeat, practically beating him to his own game.

He chuckled, easily guiding you along into the dance, “Not today~” He whispered out and you finally realized that his usual attire had changed. The once red button up shirt was changed into a white one and his jacket was nowhere to be found, black slacks adorned his new outfit. You rarely saw him change into something other than his own red suit, you didn’t bring too much attention to it. A comfortable silence lulled between the both of you as the dance ended with him easily dipping you, leaving a gentle kiss upon your lips. The rest of the day was spent dancing away with him between fast paced dances that almost made you trip over your own feet to keep up with him to slow dances that made you sleepy.

You don’t remember when you fell asleep or how you woke up in your own bed, soft jazz playing from your radio. You tried to sit up but realized there was a weight on your chest and then a soft paw gently hit your head in retaliation to your movement. The cat (you still didn’t know if it was a cat) was laying on your chest purring loudly, radio static getting louder. “Sorry, sorry.” You whispered out laying back down and the static dissipated easily, the cat got resituated on your chest and slowly blinked it’s eyes towards you before looking away staring at a random wall as if it was protecting you.

You stared up at the ceiling for a while before the cat moved from your chest to the pillow next to you. Allowing you to slowly sit up stretching your back out and then your eyes landed on Alastor sitting in the armchair in your room, softly snoring as he leaned against his own hand. Slowly getting up, you walked over draping a blanket over his shoulders and taking the book from his lap making sure to mark his place for him when he woke back up.

The next time you saw the cat watching you was when you were bathing. Minding your own business as you relaxed after a stressful day only to see a bright red ball of fluff glaring at the tub, back arched as it let out a loud hissing noise. You chuckled and shook your head, “It’s fine..just taking a bath.” You told the cat but it only sent you a glance and hissed once more the red fur on it puffing up almost comically. Now that made you laugh loudly, tears forming in your eyes as you looked away.

Calming down from your laughing fit you reached a wet hand out towards the corner where the cat stood. The cat batted at your hand, hissing louder but it never actually hit you. “Oh so grumpy..you remind me of someone~” You cooed out, leaning back and smiling, glancing at the cat who now moved forward towards the tub. “Oh? Becoming adventurous?”

The cat grumbled as loud static echoed through the room and it stood up on its hind legs to peer into the tub, watching the water. The next few seconds felt like a horror movie. Shadows wrapped around the poor little cat's frame and dropped it into the tub of warm water causing it to freak out and climb out of the tub. Then Alastor appeared, holding fresh clothes for you. A smirk played on his lips, “Careful..you're getting careless~” He growled towards the smaller cat who growled in return. You rolled your eyes, getting up and wrapping a towel around your frame and exiting the tub. “You’re so mean to my little protector.” You pouted towards Alastor who gently grabbed your cheek and squeezed it.

“Well you’re little protector is getting too chummy with you, Darling. I have to show him who your beloved is~”

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x gn!reader #gn reader #cursed cat alastor

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ashwhowrites · 10 months

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An idea that popped in my head before bed. I hope you guys enjoy it! Been a bit since I've written my own Robin idea so I hope it's worth the read 🫶🏻🩷

Robin writes a love note for Vickie but accidentally puts it in Readers locker

Wrong locker

Robin has been trying to figure out the best way to confess her feelings to Vickie. Robin figured since she couldn't even speak a word to the pretty redhead in general, writing down her feelings would be best. But Robin didn't want to sound like a crazy stalker so she settled for a simple love note.

Robin took a deep breath as she walked to Vickie's locker, she slipped the pink paper in the small cracks. She held her breath as the note dropped in. The sound of the bell had her racing to the other side of the hallway. She tried to look busy but kept her eye on the locker.

She smiled as Vickie walked up, but her stomach dropped when she noticed Vickie was opening the locker next to the one with the note. Robin panicked, whose locker was the note in?

Fear filled Robin's bones as Y/N walked up. The girl's atmosphere was terrifying. Her leather jacket smelled of cigarettes and perfume. Her healed black boots echoed down the halls. Her tight jeans framed her body along with her tight band T-shirt. She was intimating, and she liked to be. Her sharp eyes glared at anyone who looked at her. A snarl on her lips if anyone bothered to talk near her.

Robin felt like she wanted to die when Y/N opened her locker, the pink note falling to Y/N's feet. Robin prayed she wouldn't pick it up, maybe stomp on it and move on.

But no, Y/N picked up the note. Robin was stuck in her spot, she needed to run but she couldn't move.

Y/N tried to keep the smile off her face. No one has seen her smile and that wasn't going to change. But she couldn't help but feel her heart flutter at the sweet note. She knew she was intimidating and scared people off. But she's never had someone see her in such a romantic way.

She knew of Robin Buckley, the cute bandgirl. Y/N played on the volleyball team and the band always played at their games. Was Robin watching her the whole time?

Y/N put the note in her pocket, closing her locker. She turned around to walk to class when she spotted Robin staring. Once they made eye contact, Robin looked down at her shoes.

Please don't walk up to me

Please please please

"Hey Buckley," Y/N's voice ran shivers up Robin's spine. She gulped and looked up. Y/N stood in front of her, her confident frame stood tall.

"I'm sorry! The note was-" Robin went to explain what happened but Y/N cut her off.

"The note was very sweet. Thank you, it made my day. I'll call you." Y/N said, a smirk on her face as she took in Robin's nervous frame.

Robin didn't dare to breath until Y/N strutted off.

~~~

"And turns out it was the wrong locker!" Robin explained, her voice wavering between pitches. Her nervous hands were shaking as she told the story to Steve.

Steve nodded along with his arms crossed. Robin tended to talk throughout their shifts and not do any work. So Steve picked up the slack. But the place was dead so gossip time took full attention.

"Whose did it end up in?" Steve asked, he uncrossed his arms as he reached to grab his drink.

"Y/N."

Steve's eyes went wide and his water flew out of his mouth. Steve was a grade above Y/N throughout high school, and even he was terrified of her. He prayed he'd never run into her after graduation. Her sneer and hard eyes kept him up at night. He still has nightmares about the day he ran into her, his hot coffee staining her shirt. Steve could almost feel the bruises on his cheek forming again.

"You're fucked!" Steve said.

"Dingus! Don't you think I know that? She said she was going to call me! What the hell do I do?" Robin panicked.

"Maybe she won't call you! Let's not stress about anything yet." Steve said

~~~

Robin sighed in relief when she crawled into bed, not a single phone call from Y/N. Maybe Y/N just wanted to make Robin nervous and never planned to do anything about the note.

Ring

Robin gulped as she picked up the phone, she hoped more than anything that Steve was calling about his lame date.

"Sorry, gorgeous. Volleyball went very late." Y/N's voice traveled through the phone, and it still made Robin nervous.

"It's okay." Robin gulped, her fingers playing with the telephone cord.

"I know this place downtown, maybe Friday night after the game, we can go?"

Robin tried to say no, all she had to do was explain the mix-up. But she was scared of Y/N's reaction. One date couldn't hurt, maybe Y/N would realize how boring Robin was and wouldn't be interested.

~~~

Robin packed up her instrument, talking with Vickie about the game. Robin tried her best to keep the conversation going.

"Ready gorgeous?" Y/N asked. Robin couldn't help but blush at the nickname being said to her face. Y/N was sweaty and panting from the game, and Robin couldn't help but find it hot.

"Yeah just gotta pack up." Robin rushed out, her eyes meeting Y/N's for one quick second.

"Okay. I'm going to change then I'll meet you in the parking lot?" Y/N suggested. Robin nodded and felt the air return to her lungs when she walked away.

"What's going on?" Vickie asked, she didn't bother to hide how shocked she was.

"She kinda asked me out." Robin shrugged.

"Oh, cool," Vickie said, but Robin couldn't help but notice how displeased Vickie looked about the news. Was she jealous?

~~~

Robin tried not to stare at Y/N as they walked into the bar, but Y/N looked hot in her tight black jeans, tank top, and signature leather jacket. Robin tried to ignore how sweaty her palms were.

Robin was confused about why they'd go to a bar when they weren't of age, but Y/N knew the bartender it seemed. Y/N walked to the back booth, near a pool table.

Y/N had a beer and Robin had an iced tea. Y/N made good conversation and Robin was surprised by the things they had in common. Robin found herself enjoying Y/N's presence.

A few hours passed and Robin swung her feet as Y/N played pool. Robin didn't know how to play and she did not want to look like an idiot in front of Y/N.

"Come here and just try!" Y/N encouraged, she's been trying to get Robin to play for the last hour. But Robin kept shaking her head.

Y/N gave up on convincing Robin, instead, she'd make Robin do it.

Robin gulped as Y/N grabbed her hand and lifted her off the stool.

"No, I'm not any good!" Robin tried but Y/N shushed her. Y/N placed the stick in Robin's hand, stood behind her, and corrected her form. Robin couldn't help but feel slightly turned on as Y/N's body was pressed against her back. The feeling of Y/N's breath against her ear, and Y/N's arms wrapped around her, made Robin feel fuzzy.

Robin took a deep breath, letting Y/N guide her to hit the small white ball. Robin watched as the stick hit the ball, it rolled and rolled until it smacked into a red ball, disappearing into the corner.

"You did it!" Y/N cheered, Robin couldn't help but get lost in her dazzling smile. At that moment Y/N didn't seem so scary and intimidating. She looked beautiful and happy.

~~~

A few weeks passed and Robin cursed herself for leading Y/N on. Robin couldn't help but be swept up in all the dates and how special Y/N made her feel. It made Robin wonder why she never looked at Y/N in the first place.

But Robin was tugged between Vickie as well. The girl the note was made for. It seemed Vickie was jealous of all the dates between Robin and Y/N. Robin remembered the hard look in Vickie's eyes when she showed up in Y/N's jacket.

"Are you cold?" Y/N asked, her hand laced with Robin's as they walked through the carnival. Robin wore a thin long sleeve, not expecting the wind to be chilly.

"No, I'm fine!" Robin argued, but the shivering of her teeth and tight shoulders gave her up.

Y/N smiled and took off her jacket, placing the warm leather over Robin's shoulders. Immediately lacing their hands together again.

A jacket Robin still hasn't given back. She wore it every day to school. To make Vickie jealous? Or to have pride she got Y/N to go soft? She wasn't sure.

She felt torn between both girls.

~~~

"Do you like her?" Steve asked, he felt bad for the situation Robin got herself in.

"I think so? But I don't know if I like her because she makes Vickie jealous." Robin explained. She was stuck in her personal hell.

"Well if Vickie's jealous, it means she has feelings for you. So you have your answer. Vickie is interested and single. Do you want to go after her? Or stay with Y/N?"

"I think I want Vickie. I mean the note was meant for her but I'm afraid if Y/N finds out the note was for Vickie, she'll snap me in half " Or maybe she was worried it would snap Y/N in half.

~~~

Robin sat across Y/N as she sipped on a milkshake. Robin's stomach hurt too much to enjoy the sweetness.

"Are you okay? You look like you might be sick." Y/N said, her milkshake pushed to the side as she reached across for Robin's hand. Robin gulped as Y/N's soft thumb rubbed her skin.

Just say it, Robin repeated in her head. She needed to tell the truth before Y/N truly fell for Robin.

"I need to tell you something," Robin said, her free hand gripping the leather jacket by her lap. Y/N encouraged her with a small smile.

"Remember the note?"

"Of course I do." Y/N smiled

"I put it in the wrong locker," Robin said quickly, wincing as the words finally were put into the air.

"What do you mean?" Y/N asked, her head turned as she tried to understand.

"I wrote the note for Vickie and I was scared to tell you. " Robin looked up to catch Y/N's reaction. The smile turned upside down as a frown covered its place. Robin has never seen so much emotion on Y/N's face. And just like she feared, the terrifying hard mask appeared on Y/N's face.

Robin tried not to flinch as Y/N removed her hand and moved it quickly into her lap. Robin's palm smacked the table. As always, Robin ran her mouth until she made it worse.

"And I just didn't want to hurt you! And I was a little scared you'd break me in half. So I went along with the date, not expecting you'd like me! Because like I'm me and I'm so boring compared to you. I figured you'd see dating me was blah and wouldn't be interested. But then you asked for more dates and I was-"

"Scared to say no, yeah got it." Y/N barked. She was an idiot to believe someone saw her as something else than a scary monster that lurked in the halls. All this time, she thought Robin saw something in her, something worth liking and learning to love. But no, Robin was scared just like everyone else.

Y/N refused to let how upset she was shown on her face. She shook it off and grabbed her wallet. She slammed down some bills on the table, the harsh air hitting Robin's hand, she flinched again.

Robin was scared to look up as Y/N stood up. She was too scared to see the look on Y/N's face.

"Look at me," Y/N growled, Robin swallowed nervously and looked up. But there was a softness in Y/N's eyes.

"You're not boring, and you're not blah. You're funny, fun, and beautiful. Don't think so low of yourself. Next time, make sure the note goes in the right locker. I'll see you around Buckley."

Robin didn't know what to say. Y/N walked off, leaving her jacket with Robin.

~~~

Robin barely slept that night. She felt so guilty, and not all relieved. She thought telling Y/N would take the weight off her shoulders, but it was the opposite. The weight on her shoulders now crushed down on her chest.

Y/N's jacket thrown over Robin's desk chair was a painful reminder she had to see Y/N again.

The next morning, Robin held the jacket in her arms as she walked up to Y/N's locker.

"Um hey," Robin said quietly, Y/N and Vickie looked up at the sound of her voice. Robin shrunk under the gaze of both girls.

Y/N figured she was talking to Vickie so she turned back around to her locker.

Robin couldn't help but feel like she was slapped in the face as Y/N ignored her completely.

"I have your jacket." She said, tapping Y/N's shoulder. Y/N turned around, grabbed the jacket, and slipped it back on her body. In a way Robin felt a weird feeling of pride. She knew it was Y/N's jacket in the first place, but Robin wore it for weeks to where it almost felt like hers. It felt like Y/N was wearing Robin's jacket.

"Thanks," Y/N muttered the locker behind her slammed shut as she quickly walked off. Y/N couldn't watch Robin and Vickie talk about their feelings.

"Yikes, she's back to cold." Vickie observed.

"Yeah I kinda broke things off," Robin explained, a feeling in her stomach as Vickie tried to fight off a smile.

"Oh that's too bad!" Vickie said, but Robin could hear the excitement in her voice. "What happened?"

"I wrote this note to ask you out and I accidentally put it in her locker. I've been too scared to tell her but I finally did. And I think she hates me." Robin said, looking over her shoulder but Y/N was long gone.

"Ask me out?" Vickie asked, a smile on her face.

"Yeah," Robin said with a smile. Her face warmed when Vickie reached forward to lace their hands together. Robin couldn't help but notice Vickie's grip wasn't as tight and safe as Y/N's. Robin didn't feel like she was protected like the way she did in Y/N's hands.

"I'd love to!" Vickie cheered, both girls sharing a bright smile.

But Robin couldn't help but feel an unsettling feeling in her stomach.

~~~

It didn't take long for Robin and Vickie to officially be together. Steve was proud of Robin for finally making a choice, but even he couldn't help but feel like it was the wrong one.

Robin spent every minute with Vickie, searching for the fluttering in her stomach that she had with Y/N. Robin thought it was fear but maybe it was excitement.

Robin tried to fight off the frown on her face when Y/N passed her in the halls. No more warm smile sent her way. Just a hard look, the same look she gave everyone else.

Was Vickie the right choice?

#robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley #robin buckley x female reader #robin Buckley fluff #robin buckley angst x female reader #robin buckley angst #robin buckley fluff x female reader #ashwhowrites #robin buckley fic

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mapofthemazeinthemirror · 1 year

Text

TXT tucking you in before leaving for a night schedule

Fluff, no warnings!

Please let me know which one is your favourite!

☆ gender neutral reader

Soobin

It takes Soobin longer than he would care to admit to leave the couch, pressing one last kiss to your face before pulling away - no wait, just one more - before untangling his arms from around you and getting to his feet. He glances back at you on his way to get his jacket and you look so lonely there by yourself now, you pout at each other. There’s just one more thing he has to do before he can put on his shoes and go. You think he’s coming back for another kiss while he puts on his jacket, but when he raises it, it comes down and over you. He tucks it around your shoulders and you slip your arms through the sleeves, wearing it back to front. It’s big enough on you to act as a blanket, bonus, it smells like him. He smiles down at you and strokes your hair, and now he really has to go because he’s getting a call from his driver who is downstairs waiting.

Yeonjun

You exit the bathroom, all warm from your shower, into your bedroom and notice something strange. Your pillowcase was always white, and now it’s black. Your attention shifts to your boyfriend who stands at the end of your bed, smiling at you. He’ll tuck you in, he says. You climb into bed, eyeing the pillow again. Wasn’t it white? It’s his shirt, Yeonjun tells you, so you can fall asleep imagining it’s his chest your head is laying on. His eyes have that sparkle, his grin wide, the way he always looks when he does something cheesy like this, as he pulls the covers up around you. You turn to kiss him, but he’s leaning over to your nightstand, the tv suddenly turning on with your favourite movie ready to play on the screen.

Beomgyu

He pulls his arm out from under you ever so carefully, retreating from the bed so slowly it would look as if he was moving in slow motion; the sheets sound so loud to him when he’s trying to be quiet. Ten minutes ago you were chatting together, until he was talking and getting no reply; you were out like a light. He had told you that you didn’t have to stay awake and keep him company until his schedule, but you had insisted on spending as much time with him as you could get. Now he has to leave, but you’re laying on top of the duvet and he won’t be here to keep you warm and he doesn’t want you to get cold and wake up. He tiptoes out of the room and dashes to the cupboard, retrieves the fluffiest blanket of all and comes quietly back to spread it gently over you. You look so peaceful and adorable that he wants to kiss your cheek goodbye but he won’t risk it, backing towards the door and, with one final look, turns out the light. He can’t wait to come home.

Taehyun

You always have a later dinner on the nights Taehyun has a schedule. He’s always said you don’t have to wait and eat when he does, but you insist on having dinner with him. When you’re done eating, you sit and chat for a while, until it’s time for him to head off to work. He offers to help you tidy up the dishes, but you tell him that you’re going to put them away and head to bed - you usually go to bed early on the nights Taehyun works because you tend to wake up when he comes home very late. Saying goodbye, he slips his shoes on at the door and then he’s gone. You busy yourself with the plates, cleaning and drying, so much quicker a job with only dishes for two, and just when you’ve closed them inside the cupboard, you hear the door unlocking again. You turn with a smile, asking what he’s forgotten. This, he says, and scoops you up in his arms with a laugh, your arms winding around his neck in surprise, and carries you towards the bedroom. With one hand he pulls the covers back, then slides you gently into bed. His eyes are warm as ever as he tucks you in, resting his forehead against yours before kissing you. He really has to go now, he tells you, but he’ll be back to perform his big spoon duties in a few hours.

Huening Kai

He starts out by bringing just one of the plushies from his bed, placing it beside you under the covers. But before he knows it, whether because he wants to drag this out and not leave yet or because of the way you smile and snuggle the toy against your face, he makes another trip and comes back with five more in his arms. He strategically places them - one on either side of your middle, one on either side of your legs, and one on the end of the bed, “standing guard”, he explains.

written by mapofthemazeinthemirror - do not repost my work in any form

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blueparadis · 2 months

Note

What would umemiya or sugishita reacted when you interrupted them in the middle of gardening with a kiss?

separate readers. wriiten with fem!reader in mind. wc- 1kish.

The sun is shining like the end of the world. The summer heat has been excruciatingly painful. Everyone is sweating like buckets, drinking water— bottle after bottle and then there is Umemiya sitting in front of his plants on the rooftop of his school, Furin High School under the scorching sun. Sturdy and well-built hands tending to the soft green saplings and stems. Thank God, he is using gloves otherwise his palms have been soiled by now. A low yet consistent hum can be heard from him suggesting he is quite comfortable in his posture even though it looks painful, an invitation to back aches and leg cramps.

But Umemiya does not have an instance to spare any side effects. Why? Because you are there to worry for him, aren’t you? You always do. You always worry. Just like he can not separate his gardening hobby from himself, you can not stop worrying for him, especially when he is under the influence of love shown by God Apollo. You stand in the corner, just at the doorway of the rooftop with an umbrella of course, and watch him as he smiles, hums, and talks to his plants.

On the other side, there is Sugishita busy watering the plant saplings that have been set by his mentor, Umemiya Hajime. You are sure that if a tiger walked passed by these two men, they would not grace a single glance and if the tiger is in their way, they would certainly shoo it away like some local stray cat.

SUGISHITA KYOTARO

Sugishita is a little hunched. He is holding the spray gun and moving his hand from one side to the other with the nozzle on as you watch him. Thank God, he is wearing a hat. Actually, Umemiya gave his to him saying he had a spare one which surprisingly he has. He was not lying so Sugishita accepted it without any resistance. He has been watering the plants for a while and he has not spoken a word to you yet you can feel him acknowledging your presence from time to time. He glances in your way. what even goes on inside his head? maybe he is thinking about what else he can do for Umemiya-san before going home. He turns his back to you to water the other section of plant saplings. Now, you are watching his back. Summer sure is slow, you think as Sugishita wipes of his face with the towel that curled along his nape.

Ah! He is sweating again. His cheeks now have a reddish tinge. You can only see one side of him. Did that cheek change color too? You jump on your feet and hit the ground with a flop. You forgot about those slippers that Sugishita gave you. Thank God, the sound of water masked your footsteps as you approached him. But before standing by him you paused behind him and a moment later you encapsulated your arms around his waist, stored on your toes to place a kiss on his cheek from behind. His skin is hot as if he is burning.

"umemiya-san is right by the corner," He grabs your wrist and pulls you in front of himself so effortlessly that it takes a moment for you to stand still. "what're you doing?" he whispered, a soft scolding tone hidden underneath.

"aww, can't you tell? shall I do it again?" without giving him a moment of reprieve you grab his face and pull him into a kiss. The water pipe hits the floor of the rooftop, his hands go under your top while he twists your other hand in the back along your waist. He gives in to the kiss but suddenly a scream startles both of you.

Thank God! Umemiya-san is not peeking so giving you a nod he went to investigate the source of such a life-threatening scream with pinched eyebrows.

UMEMIYA HAJIME

It is a good thing that Umemiya lets Sugishita help otherwise he would be stir-fried till now. Well, look at you, he does not let you help even if you keep insisting. He keeps joking by saying, “You’re sensitive, baby. The heat will get to you,”

“you can’t take the heat.”

“you’ll get heat fever.” and as such, always with a cackle;

So when Umemiya is immersed in his small world of gardening that took a mere square feet of Bofurin’s rooftop you slowly tip-toed your way to him, holding the umbrella in between your neck and shoulder to gather your skirt up under the back of your thigh, and finally took a seat beside him. He still has not noticed you yet. If he did, he would have kept shouting and panicking for sure. You watch him meticulously, beads of perspiration settling on his skin making him glow like a diamond. His t-shirt has turned from light grey to dark gray and the back portion is sticking against his skin. It is marvelous how he does not notice you, alive and breathing.

Umemiya let his arm graze his forehead once and now it is filthy but when he does there, a certain mischief flamming up inside your brain. There is an opening. You are sitting and there is an opening for you to explore. Here comes the payback. You lean into his side more and blow air into his ear. Umemiya’s head turns to you, his mouth parts in an attempt to scream but you were quick enough to create a better diversion for his brain to focus. Placing a soft kiss on his lips you walk away. It was just a graze, so tender yet so intangible and it let Umemiya’s world ablaze. He looks at you, aghast and in shock for a few seconds.

Sugishita hears a scream and comes hurridly for rescue. He sees you and Umemiya-san standing poles apart. He does not say anything, just gives a scrutinizing look at Umemiya-san.

“There was a bug,” Umemiya tries to explain but what a blunder it was when you joined in.

“It bit me.” You are not convinced if he bought your act or not so you murmur, “I’m fine though. Thank you.” Sugishita does not poke the matter anymore. He turns and walks away with a long “Hmm”

“Bug my foot.” he says under his breath.

“I heard that,” Umemiya and you both exclaim in unison.

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section-chief-prentiss · 2 months

Text

puzzled

Summary: In your spare time, you and Emily start working on a puzzle in her office.

Pairing: Emily Prentiss/Reader

Word Count: 2429

Ao3

“You can refresh your email as much as you want,” JJ teased from the desk next to yours. “But it’s not going to make a case appear.”

You sighed, glancing over your computer at the blonde agent sitting across from you. Her light hair was thrown back in a ponytail, and she had a light blue blouse on and black slacks. Her legs were crossed, and she looked at you with amusement in her sparkling eyes.

“Four days,” you said, running a hand through your messy hair. “We haven’t had a case in four days.”

“For the first time since joining the team, I’m caught up on paperwork,” Luke commiserated from his desk a few feet away. “I never knew four days could feel so long.”

Spencer whirled around in his desk chair, his brown, curly hair flying in every direction. “A recent study found that bored participants tended to think more about time, which caused it to feel like it was moving slower. Since we’re accustomed to frequently working on cases, it’s only natural that the unexpected downtime we’re experiencing would cause us to feel that time is moving more slowly than it is.”

You set your hands on your desk and pushed yourself up to a standing position. “I’m going to see if Emily has anything for us. Maybe that’ll help time move faster.”

Spencer perked up. “Time doesn’t actually speed up when we’re occupied; it’s only our perception that—”

A groan from the rest of the team drowned out the rest of what Reid was going to say, as you navigated your way out of the bullpen and up the stairs toward Emily’s office.

You knocked twice on her door, straining to hear her response on the other side.

“Come in!”

You opened the door a crack and peeked your head through the space. “Are you busy?”

Emily cracked a smile. “As busy as any of you are.”

You made your way inside, closing the door behind you, and took a seat in one of the chairs opposite Emily’s desk. The Unit Chief’s raven hair hung in a curtain around her face, her bangs perfectly cut just below her eyebrows. She wore a long-sleeved red shirt—your favorite color on her.

“No new case yet?”

Emily sat forward in her chair, clasping her hands together and resting them on her desk. “Not yet, it appears all serial killers have taken the week off.”

“Do you have paperwork you need help with?”

Emily chuckled. “You’re so bored that you’re asking for paperwork?”

You frowned at her. “Em, I’m desperate.”

Emily’s brown eyes locked with yours for a moment. She bit her bottom lip—her tell that gears were turning, and an idea was forming in her mind.

Nodding, she opened one of her desk drawers, reaching for something you couldn’t see.

“Hotch left this in his desk when he resigned,” Emily said, setting a box down between you.

The top of the box showed a 1000-piece puzzle depicting dolphins cresting over waves, a sunset behind them.

You softened, thinking of the previous Unit Chief, who’d left the team to enter witness protection to keep himself and his young son safe from a serial killer.

“Aww, for Jack?”

“No,” Emily grinned. “It was for him. He loved puzzles, said they helped him focus on a case when he was stuck.”

You picked up the box, studying the image. There were a lot of similar shades of blue, but you hoped that would present enough of a challenge to keep you entertained while you waited for a case to come in.

“Are you gonna help me with this?” you asked.

From your first day at the BAU, being in the same room as Emily caused butterflies to flit around in your stomach. Her kind eyes, her dark hair, the confidence she strutted around the BAU with—you couldn’t help but feel drawn to her. But you’d never had the nerve to ask if she felt the same way.

You were sure she couldn’t. Even if she did, the HR nightmare of entering a relationship with your superior was likely something neither you nor Emily were willing to risk. You both loved your jobs too much, cared too much about helping people, to put any of that in jeopardy.

You watched Emily as she weighed your offer, her eyes flitting from yours to the stack of unfinished paperwork on her desk.

“It’s either the puzzle, or we sit in here in silence working on paperwork,” you said. “Which sounds more fun?”

“Fuck it,” Emily said. “A break wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

Your face lit up with a grin. “Exactly.”

You both relocated to the couch at the far end of her office, and you set the puzzle box on the coffee table in front of it. Emily cleared off the table while you opened the box and flipped the contents onto the table.

“Edges first?” you asked.

“What am I, a sociopath?” Emily joked. “Of course edges first.”

You giggled, searching through the pile for any border pieces. “In college, my ex-boyfriend refused to start with outside pieces when we’d work on puzzles together. He said it was too easy and he wanted to engage his brain.”

“Gee, why did you ever break up?” Emily asked dryly.

“He cheated on me. Repeatedly.”

“Like I said,” Emily paused, holding up a corner piece as evidence. “Sociopath.”

You tried, and failed, to fight the smile tugging at your lips. She was right—your ex, Sam, was a douchebag. You deserved better than how he treated you.

And you hoped that better was sitting next to you.

You fell into a comfortable silence as you worked, sorting through pieces. While Emily searched for edge pieces, you transitioned into organizing the middle pieces into piles by color.

Once that was done, you collaborated on putting the frame of the puzzle together—Emily assembling the sunset on the top half, and you focusing on the varying shades of blue that made up the water on the bottom half.

As you snapped the two halves of the border together, there was a knock at Emily’s door, startling both of you.

Emily grinned. “Come in!”

Penelope rushed through the door, file in hand. “We got a case.”

An hour ago, you would’ve loved nothing more. Now, you were already missing this one-on-one time with Emily.

“I guess we should clean this up,” you said, reaching for the box.

Emily put a hand out, stopping you. “That’s okay; we’ll leave it here. Work on it during our downtime.”

You raised an eyebrow at her, silently wondering when the next time would be that you had downtime. But you weren’t about to turn down the offer, so you nodded.

“I’ll grab the team.”

***

On the elevator ride back to the sixth floor at the end of the day, you felt yourself nodding off, head bobbing up and down in an attempt to keep yourself conscious.

The rest of the team was too exhausted to comment on it. The elevator ding startled you awake, and you moved through the BAU on autopilot, beelining for your desk and grabbing your bag so you could get home as soon as possible and sleep for a few hours before you had to pick up the case in the morning.

Fortunately, the case kept you in D.C., so you’d get to sleep in your own bed tonight. Throughout the day, the team scattered between the BAU, Metro P.D., and various crime scenes, assisting where you could.

But before you could hightail it to your car, the light on in Emily’s office caught your attention.

“See you tomorrow,” Tara mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” you said, making your way toward Emily.

You were too exhausted to bother with knocking—it had been a long, emotionally exhausting day, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care about protocol.

Emily was sitting up on her brown leather couch, her head tucked toward her chest, fast asleep. There was a puzzle piece in her hand.

You took a moment to memorize this moment, since you knew if you pulled out your phone to take a picture, Emily would actually murder you.

Her hair was still perfect, somehow, even after a day of running around. Her blouse and pants were wrinkled from all of the activity, and as you walked toward her, you saw that she’d even fallen asleep with her shoes on.

You reached out to gently touch her shoulder and whispered, “Emily.”

She woke with a start, wincing from the light but searching for danger.

“You’re fine,” you said softly. “You just fell asleep.”

“I wanted to… work on it,” she yawned, gesturing to the half-completed puzzle.

Earlier, while the team was building a profile and getting frustrated that things weren’t lining up, Emily suggested the puzzle. The team had gathered around the coffee table, debating which parts of the profile would need to be changed. The whole time, you kept your gaze on Emily, as if you were still the only two in the room.

You took a seat on the couch next to her. “We can work on it tomorrow.” Or so you hoped, assuming the case had wrapped up by then.

Em nodded but didn’t move. You slid forward on the couch to get a better look at the progress your team had made on the puzzle, and you were impressed. Most of the bottom half was done—the difficult part, mostly due to Spencer—which just left the hues of red, pink, orange, and gold of the sunset.

As you admired the puzzle, one piece jumped out to you—half red, half pink—and you saw immediately where it needed to go. You popped it into place and started searching for the next one.

Next to you, Emily took the piece she’d been holding and slid it into place. Surely it couldn’t hurt to add just a few more pieces. You could always drink coffee in the morning if you needed a pick-me-up.

Your previous exhaustion melted away as you focused on your task—entering a flow state where nothing mattered except the picture in front of you and the women beside you.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you found yourself staring at the last few gaps, scattered in various places around the image that needed to be filled in.

It wasn’t until you were down to your last three pieces—you and Emily had taken to silently alternating back and forth, and at this rate, you were poised to put the last piece in—that you realized there was one missing.

Maybe you were just tired, you told yourself. It had to be here somewhere. Hotch was too organized to have ever lost a piece.

You put down a piece that filled in the last piece of one of the dolphins. Emily finished off part of the sunset on the horizon line, but there was a gap where one piece needed to fill in the blueish-purple tints in the sky.

You frowned, glancing at the floor around you.

“Are we missing one?” Your voice was scratchy from tiredness and the fact that you and Emily had mostly worked in silence.

Next to you, Emily was silent as you peeked under the table before standing to search the couch cushions.

When you turned up empty, you sat back down with a sigh. “Well, that’s disappointing.”

You glanced over to Emily to find her face flushed and hands balled in her lap. Her beautiful, dark eyes wouldn’t quite meet yours.

“Are you okay?”

Her light skin turned an even deeper shade of red as she unballed her right fist. Sure enough, the missing piece was sitting in the middle of her palm.

You laughed. “Em, if you wanted to place the last piece yourself, you could’ve just said so.”

“It’s not that,” she said, putting the piece on the table but not in its spot. “I, um, didn’t want to finish it because I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I didn’t want it to be over.”

Your heart raced. Were you deliriously tired, or was Emily really saying this?

You opened your mouth to respond, but when no sound came out, you closed it again.

Emily swore, burying her face in her hands. “I knew it,” her voice was muffled. “I knew I was reading this all wrong.”

She looked up to face you, and your heart sank in your chest. “I don’t want to make things uncomfortable for you; if you could just forget I even said that—”

“Em!” You interrupted. “I feel the same way.”

But Emily was already shaking her head. “No, you don’t have to say that. This was so inappropriate of me; I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m too tired to be thinking clearly…”

“Emily,” you said forcefully. You took her hand in yours and smiled, color flooding your cheeks. “You don’t understand. I feel the same way.”

The raven-haired beauty’s eyes widened as she took in your words. “Oh! Oh.”

“Yeah,” you said with a giggle. “But I know it would be complicated, and I don’t want to mess with either of our careers.”

Emily sobered at that. “Neither do I.”

“But…” you hedged, glancing at the clock. “It’s 4 in the morning, and we need to be back here in two hours, so the time for good decisions has already passed.”

Before you could lose your nerve, you picked up the last piece and snapped it into its place. But you couldn’t even bring yourself to marvel at the completed image, because the person sitting next to you was even more mesmerizing.

Pressing your palms against Emily’s face, you pulled her toward you until her lips were crashing against yours.

It felt even better to kiss her than you’d imagined. Her lips were soft, and even after a long day, she still smelled of her floral perfume. You ran your fingers through her soft hair, and Emily moaned against your mouth.

Emily’s hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer. Where you touched, your body hummed with electricity and desire.

Too soon, you pulled back.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that,” you confessed.

“I’d hate to make you wait again,” Emily said, a teasing smile on her lips. “But if we want any sleep tonight, we should probably head out.”

You pretended to ponder that before shrugging.

“Who needs sleep?” you mumbled, throwing yourself once more into Emily’s welcoming embrace.

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lixxen · 8 months

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Idk how well text posts do on Trolls Tumblr, but I have so many thoughts rn and want to talk about feral Branch details.

Feral Branch HC:

Branch has fur, claws on both his feet and hands, his ears move like a cat, and he can see better in the dark

"Feral Trolls" are gray trolls who have adapted from being away from others. Trolls have a built in instinct that recognizes strength in numbers. You see this with rainbow trolls being able to change their colors/auras, and all trolls being able to manipulate their hair. Gray trolls cannot change their aura, but they are around others so they can stay normal

But isolated gray trolls biologically change due to them not being around others. This happens over years, and not automatic. Once a troll changes like this, they cannot undo it. So this is why Branch cannot go back to "normal" physically, even tho he isn't gray and around others

(there's also a psychological/self actualization part. Gray trolls tend to see themselves as the problem and rainbow trolls end up more likely to becoming "feral" looking due to their ability to change their aspects.)

All genres have feral trolls, all presenting differently. Rock and pop are the most similar since they are the two physically closest looks wise

Normal trolls are omnivores, but eat more plants since their digestive systems and body needs focus more on plants. Feral trolls need more meat, but are still omnivorses

If I can get psychological, a lot of their "feral tendencies" are actually just trauma responses and bad socialization issues due to isolation. A lot of responses are stemmed from fear and anger, so lashing out/growling/swiping at others is normally out of fear or response. Plus having to survive in the wild, y'know?

Okay. Done with that part, let's get into Branch!

Branch likes to be in trees and high ground. It comes from living in a pod in the troll tree, but he lives in the bunker because it's safer. So you'll find him in trees normally because he likes being high

Branch normally hibernates during the winter, but ever since he met Poppy he stopped hibernating. This makes him horribly grumpy during the snow season

Not shown: Branch loving his ears to be scratched. Her more sensitive than normal and he loves them being pet. He also loves to lay on top of people. It comes from the need of warmth and him thinking that others need warmth.

He wouldn't lick others, since they don't have fur. But if he's around other feral trolls he'd definitely lick them.

His parents were both half rock and half pop trolls. They both looked like rainbow pop trolls, and the rock parent (dad) did not live in the troll tree. Grandma Rosiepuff was the maternal grandmother and a pop troll

The parents names were Briar and Melody

Branch has the need to burrow all the time. It comes from years in the bunker and from hiding from danger in the earlier years. You will see him burried in someone's bed probably.

Branch is really good at math and science once he starts learning and back into the village. It comes naturally to him. He wants to be a pod architect because it comes naturally to him

Clay and Bruce follow the same thing, where Clay really likes accounting and Bruce loves to run business.

Floyd is the best at performing, with JD behind him. JD though is actually really good at taking care of others and survival. Surprisingly JD can garden and keep a ton of plants alive to feed himself.

Branch and Clay are autistic with different levels of support needed. Branch needs less support while Clay needs more. Thought I'd mention this.

Clay and Viva were best friends before the Troll Tree attack. The others did not know this. Viva and JD are the ones that helped Clay learn better coping mechanisms when the band started to sour

Branch is more sensitive to sound and light. He hates fireworks and doesn't like to be touched unless he knows the person

Ablaze is the one who mainly is teaching Branch coping mechanisms for his PTSD. Poppy is his support throughout everything, but she doesn't know how to help someone heal.

Branch mandates Kismet group cuddles. This dude it touched starved and they’re the only ones he is comfortable like that other than Poppy

Even after Branch is able to speak again, as he was nonverbal when he met Poppy and by Trolls 2 he is speaking again, he prefers to be quiet and doesn't talk as much. It is simply preference at this point

Branch likes to interlock his tail with Poppy's when they're not touching, but close enough :)

I might do more later, but I am about to go into work :)

#trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls branch #trolls 3 #brozone #trolls brozone #trolls poppy #broppy #trolls broppy #feral branch #feral branch au #feral au

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photo1030 · 3 months

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Leather and Lace - Chapter 23: Colter - The Winter Storm

Summary: After a major job goes seriously wrong, the gang is driven out of the area.

*This beautiful image comes from @gem-likes-rdr

*Thank you to @appalachiancowboy99 for being my sounding board.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter - TBD, but there are a handful of future chapters that were posted ahead of time

Shouts and chaos reign through the Van der Linde camp as it is hastily packed up. The stale odor of fires being doused with water chokes the air as sooty particles bounce into the sky like summer fireflies. Wooden boxes and crates crack loudly as they get hastily slammed shut, and wagons creak as the gang’s few possessions get roughly tossed inside. Ms. Grimshaw’s sharp voice barks instructions at the members who stayed behind while groups went out on their respective jobs. Your head rings, throbbing from anxiety and fear. You have never seen the gang so disheveled and unhinged and it is most unsettling. You are still trying to piece together what happened as you tend to the bloody wounds of your friends who are laid out in front of you.

Apparently this ferry boat heist that Dutch and Micah had been planning for weeks went horribly wrong. The delectable smell of a take worth $150,000 in bank revenue was too tantalizing to pass up, but it also came with high risks. Arthur had tried to steer the fools from it, even Hosea tried. But their collective reasoning fell on deaf and indignant ears. So wanting no part of it himself, Arthur left the camp in a huff with Hosea to work their own real estate job instead.

Dutch and Micah had taken a collection of the remaining outlaw misfits up to the town of Blackwater, the new up-and-coming port city of West Elizabeth. The town proudly buzzes with new businesses and commerce, with citizens and visitors flocking to the growing community. It is a lucrative area, brimming with lumber, mining, and port travel businesses along the Flat Iron Lake and its tributaries.

Details of what transpired on the ferry boat are still unclear, as there was little time to explain what happened. But afterwards, Dutch and the others came tearing into camp like the devil himself was chasing them, hollering to anyone within earshot to pack it in. No time for pleasantries, just throw the shit in a wagon right this minute and move.

Like a cloud of mosquitoes that scatters off of calm water when a stone is thrown, everyone explodes into an almost rehearsed motion, hurriedly moving to their respective areas to toss whatever humble belongings they have into crates.

Fortunately, because you and Arthur share a living space now, he is able to pack up the belongings for the both of you, trying his best to be careful with your things while you are occupied elsewhere, hovering over the wounded. Arthur dismantles the tent quickly with the help of Reverend Swanson before he moves to assist you with packing the medical tent next.

You try to remain calm, balancing packing supplies with tending to your injured friends, when out of the corner of your eye you see little Jack, his eyes filled with fearful tears of confusion. His mother has him sitting on the end of one of the wagons where she can keep a watchful eye on him, making sure he doesn’t get trampled under someone’s hurried feet.

He sits perfectly still, nervously nibbling his fingers, as a constant in a whirlwind of commotion all around him. A hard lump forms in your throat as your heart aches for the poor child who is scared and confused as to the swirling chaos which is dangerously close to swallowing him up whole. Amazingly, the boy never seems to have too many issues with living out in the open and on the run like this. But when he sees the people who are always protecting him with their own fear pooling in their eyes, it causes Jack’s little body to shake with a new kind of panic.

Slowly turning your face away from Jack, your gaze falls back to your monumental task at hand. Davey and Jenny are laid out in front of you, both groaning and gasping in pain from the gunshot wounds they sustained in the Blackwater robbery. Your attention skips between the two of them, changing bandages and administering tinctures and tonics in an effort to ease their pain. Reverend Swanson even offers up some of his morphine to help. And they will certainly need it for the journey ahead.

Both Davey and Jenny’s injuries are severe and they shouldn’t be moved at all, but that is simply not an option. A sharp pang of guilt washes over you that you can’t do more for them so you patch them up as best you can, trying to make them comfortable. You then proceed to pack what you can while still staying within arms length of both of them, watching over them like a hawk. Ms. Grimshaw would normally assist you, but she’s got her own hands full right now. The whole camp has been given the directive to be packed and in place to move out as soon as possible.

You place the last of the medical supplies into a crate to be placed into Arthur’s wagon when Dutch stalks through the area, gauging the progress of the camp’s dismantling.

“Come on, people, we got to move!” he hollers, urgently sweeping his arm towards the lot of nerve-wracked gang members.

“What about supplies?” interjects Mr. Pearson from his station, his face red with exertion as he heaves the last crate into the chuck wagon. “Food stocks are low.”

“No time”, barks Dutch. “We’ll just have to see what we can pick up along the way.”

“Along the way to where?” you ask incredulously, eyebrows raised in challenge, as there has been no mention of a plan or destination of any kind. But you forget yourself, and more importantly, who you are talking to.

Dutch quickly spins on you, his dark eyes flash in your direction, his shoulders taught, pulling him even taller and more menacing.

“Nevermind about that.” The words are growled out slow and low in a warning that makes you instantly recoil. “It is not your concern. I’m handling it.”

But your stubbornness gets the best of you, as that answer is simply not going to placate you, not when your family’s lives are in your hands. You shake your head, face twisting up in disbelief as you look down at Davey’s blood-soaked body.

“But what about-”

“Not now, Y/N!” Dutch’s deep voice raises in volume to immediately end the conversation. ”Just look after those who need medical attention and let me handle the move.”

Your eyes skip over to Arthur for help, but his face is set in stone with a grim expression that you cannot place.

“Just do as you're told, Y/N”, he says flatly.

That is all that Arthur can mutter before heading over to finish packing your shared tent.

—----------------------------------

Following the shootout, Blackwater and the entirety of the great Plains and Tall Trees region are put on lock-down. Pinkertons are brought in to cover the area to patrol like a dog ravaged with fleas, looking for the elusive Van Der Linde Gang. The Pinkerton Agency is a private security guard and detective agency that is known for their ruthless and sometimes violent tactics. Prominent companies and rich businessmen began to hire these groups shortly after the Civil War as bounty hunters of sorts to protect their interests and to help put an end to the “lawlessness of the Wild West”.

Upon hearing that these men have now joined local law enforcement in chasing you all down makes your blood run cold. Suddenly the gravity of what your gang does, Arthur in particular, hits you full on. This “Robinhood-esque” lifestyle is no longer as romantic a notion as you once believed. And you are not so naive to deduce that if Dutch Van Der Linde is their target, then Arthur’s neck is surely in danger of a hangman’s noose as well.

The whole territory is left in chaos in the gang’s wake. The ferryboat was a hailstorm of gunfire, killing lawmen and civilians alike. The law is not able to confirm if the gang was able to escape with the ferryboat money, as the cache has yet to be recovered. And this leaves the locals in a flurry, digging in gardens and backyards to see if the money was stashed anywhere where strangers fitting the gang’s collective descriptions were rumored to be lurking.

Truth be told, the gang could not escape with the stolen money and instead, stashed it in an undisclosed location in Blackwater known only to Dutch and Hosea. They will have to come back for it when it’s safe and who knows when that will be. Dutch knew this would not be an easy job, but his arrogance has left nothing but destruction behind.

But it wasn’t just those poor souls on the ferryboat who suffered. The “Blackwater Massacre”, as it is being referred to in the newspapers, has resulted in casualties to your family as well. John took a hit to the arm during the heist and Charles suffered a badly burned hand. But they got off lucky.

Davey Callander was hit in the gut. It’s bad, too. The bullet tore right through his belly. You try to dress the wound as best you can to quell the bleeding, but you know it’s not good. His brother Mac was also shot at the scene, but apparently was not able to escape with the others. Whether Mac has been caught or killed, no one knows for sure.

And then there’s Jenny. Sweet Jenny Kirk. She took a bullet, too, the fragment ricocheted around in her chest like a ball kicked around a schoolyard. As you hold your hand over her wound, watching the viscous red liquid pool around your fingers, you know in your heart what’s coming. Her soft brown eyes look to you, seeking that confirmation of whether she’s dying. But gazing into her ever-paling face, you don’t have the heart to tell her the truth.

“Everything is going to be fine, Jenny.” Smiling softly, you gently run your fingers through her hair before cupping her cheek. “I need you to relax and take it easy. I know it hurts and I’ll do everything I can to make it stop.” A tear rolls down the side of her face as she whimpers and nods, placing all of her trust in you.

And then there's Sean. Sean is missing, as well. He was last seen tucked behind a building, about to be swarmed by Pinkertons. He’s another one that was left behind, no one knowing whether he is dead or alive.

Having nowhere to escape to, Dutch pushes your lot up into the Grizzly Mountains of Ambarino. It is a hard path and the gang leader is convinced that the law will not bother with the chase up there. With the situation becoming dire, he decides that you all would have to flee the area completely until this mess blows over. The threat of the swarming law is oppressive as it chases your group, strangling you all from any resources or salvation. There are few options for respite and none of them are too pleasing to begin with.

As the procession of wagons rumbles further north, a helacious storm settles in, swallowing the gang in bitter cold and ice. The persistent snow covers your tracks into the mountains but it is a hard and treacherous journey. You make the dangerous trek up the mountainside and fortunately manage to lose your pursuers in the process. But that seems to be the only bit of luck the gang has been granted.

Sadly, the atmosphere inside your wagon grows even more grim as Jenny’s labored breathing starts to slow as her battered body begins the final stages of failure. You knew it was a lost cause before you even hit the foothills of the mountains, but watching her life ebb away before your eyes tears at your heart nonetheless.

Her poor body shakes as the cold winds wrap around the wagon, the constant rocking of the hard wooden platform that she lays upon offering her little relief as you try desperately to make her as comfortable as possible. You take her hand into yours, squeezing it tightly, and sing softly to her as she creeps closer to permanent relief. The fear of death that shadows her tired eyes begins to waver as she focuses on the comforting melody of your voice, a lullaby that tenderly floats into the air.

And then suddenly, Jenny’s sweet face goes slack and her torment has ended. It takes you but a moment of staring at her young freckled face to wrap your mind around the reality of it before you and Abigail share a tearful look. Not a word is spoken between the two of you. You simply nod in acknowledgement to your friend as you look down at Jenny again. You are not looking forward to the painful task of telling Lenny. You set your lips to Jenny’s cold forehead before your hand ghosts over her face, closing her eyes.

With a deep sigh, you now turn your full attention to Davey. You don’t know the Callender brothers too well. They always seemed too rowdy for your taste. But Arthur likes them well enough, taking a drink with them on occasion.

But Jenny is a different story. She came into the gang just after you did. Being younger than you, she tended to stay more with Tilly and Mary Beth. She was a bit of a tom-boy, as they say, but sharp as a tack and sweet as honey. And particularly sweet on one Mr. Lenny Summers. He loved reading and discussing books with her. And that common interest created a beautiful little budding romance between the youngsters. She already knew how to read, but Lenny was helping Jenny develop her skills at it. You’d often catch them sitting at the fires together, coyishly touching shoulders and exchanging sweet blushing glances.

And poor Sean. Your mind quickly skips to him as you readjust yourself to check Davey’s bandages. Whoever caught Sean may put a bullet in him just to stop his mouth running. Karen acts like his absence doesn’t affect her so deeply, as if they weren’t so close. But you’ve heard her crying softly at night and noticed his shirt tucked into her bedroll.

As the caravan of lost souls trudges ever onward, the sun begins its descent for the day and Arthur rides out ahead to try to find shelter from the merciless storm. You have your hands full caring for Davey, but you can’t help but worry for his safety, as well.

Arthur is strong and as resilient as ever. And Dutch is leaning on him heavily to get the gang out of this mess that he’s made. Dutch wears Arthur like a shield, using him to take the brunt of the poundings, sending him off to do dangerous work. But as much as you hate to admit it, Arthur is the gang’s best hope at surviving this latest miscalculation. You have hardly even seen him since the gang rolled out of the valley let alone spoken to him. You want nothing more than to wrap your arms around him to make sure he is okay, to give him the support he needs, and to have him comfort you in return. But that is not possible at the moment, and that lack of connection with your love leaves you feeling empty and hopeless.

Tucked away in the wagon between the injured, you cannot even see the outside world, let alone Arthur. You have no idea where he even is. You can only hear the world around you, as the frigid wind howls next to your ear, causing the canvas over top to shake and snap loudly. Abigail reaches up to light the rusty lantern that sways from the roof of the wagon as the darkness of the end of the day settles upon you all. The flame is small and fragile within the glass globe, struggling to keep itself going, just like the hope in your heart.

Reverend Swanson walks along the side of the lead wagon and up towards the front of it where Dutch and Hosea sit perched on the bench, driving the poor horses onward in the unrelenting weather.

“We need to stop soon,” Reverend hollers up to them, his voice getting muffled in the wind. “Jenny’s dead. And Abigail says Davey’s not doing too well either. We’ll need to find a place, “ he adds with a knowing look.

“We’ll all be dead soon if we don’t get out of this storm,” grumbles Hosea. The old man tucks his chin into the collar of his coat, wrapping his arms around his thin frame even tighter to try to stay warm.

Dutch nods in an attempt at consolation. “It’ll be alright,” he affirms. “We’ll find shelter soon. Arthur is out there looking for a place.”

And just like that, as if called out of the darkness, a shadowy form emerges from the swirling snow. Arthur’s unmistakable blue coat and trusty horse come into view, a faint yellow glow from his lantern acting like a beacon.

“I found a place,” the seasoned outlaw shouts over the howling wind. “Not too far up ahead.” Arthur’s face twists up against the frigid air, his mouth turning down into a frustrated and annoyed scowl, his eyes just as icy and angry as the weather.

Arthur turns Buck around to head back the way they came, and eventually leads the gang to settle in an abandoned mining town known as Colter.

*This fantastic images comes from @rosesrdr2photography

_________________________________________

It is early evening by the time the gang arrives at the small collection of broken-down buildings known as Colter. The sun’s absence has plunged the world into darkness, making it exponentially colder. Hosea climbs down from the wagon with stiff joints and hurries over as fast as the deep snow allows his old knees to move to inspect the nearest building that looks inhabitable. He heaves his shoulder into the door, thrusting his lantern inward to cast its fragile illumination upon the interior. The room is bleak and dreary, covered in cobwebs and dust from a time long forgotten by the last inhabitants. But, at least it has walls and a solid roof. And more importantly, it is empty.

“Bring him in here!” Hosea calls out over his shoulder into the dark. Arthur and Bill carry Davey inside on a make-shift gurney with you and Abigail following closely behind. The rest of the group falls in as well, desperate to get out of the wagons and out of the elements.

Your red-stained fingers hover over Davey’s bandages again, noting with disappointment at how much more blood has been lost since you last checked. Out of the corner of your eyes, you catch Abigail fidgeting above his chest and mouth, looking for signs of life.

“Davey’s dead”, she announces with a matter of fact tone laced with disappointment.

Abigail’s statement halts you in your tracks. Your eyes dart between Abigail’s wind-chapped face to Davey’s lifeless one, before your gaze falters back to the wound that your hands are currently buried in, the blood already coagulating and becoming cold. A defeated sigh drags your shoulders down even further, and with a heavy heart at having lost another, you slowly retract your hands, fixing the blanket around Davey’s body like a death shroud.

The room sits heavy with sorrow. The expressions on everyone’s faces are a mixture of both sadness and exhaustion and one that is collectively shared by the entire group.

To his credit, Dutch senses the need of his people, the need to be cared for and consoled. You all need that guiding light to focus on if you are to make it out of this hell alive. Dutch steps into the middle of the small gathering, and proceeds to address the gang with a speech, trying to rally you all together as morale is at an all-time low. Like the father figure that you all so desperately need and share, his deep voice carries softly, yet firmly in the dead air. It is this that is Dutch’s greatest gift: the gift of charisma.

He ends his impassioned speech with “Get yourselves warm. Stay strong. Stay with me.” And then Dutch immediately shifts into survival mode, as there is no time for sadness. He needs to get you all refocused on the hardship that still lies ahead.

“We’ll get some supplies. Mr. Pearson, Ms. Grimshaw, I need you to turn this place into a camp.” Both loyal gang members nod in unison at their understood roles. ”Arthur, come with me. Let’s head out and see what we can find.”

“In this?” Arthur tosses his arm towards the storm that rages all around you, threatening to snow you all in and suffocate you.

“Yes,” Dutch declares emphatically. “We should go now before it gets worse out there and then we can’t get out at all. Come on.” Dutch huffs and turns to head back out into the cold.

You silently watch as Arthur just rolls his eyes in annoyance before he obediently follows Dutch outside. A cold and unsettled feeling washes over you as Arthur shuffles out the door behind his mentor. You are still trying to piece together what happened back in Blackwater, but the whispers indicate that it was not good at all. The fact that your friends’ blood covers your hands and clothing is a bad enough indication.

But you overheard Javier talking about how Dutch shot an innocent woman. Your mind scrambled upon hearing that. While you are well aware of how dangerous Dutch Van der Linde can be, you just couldn’t believe that he would kill an innocent bystander for no reason.

Once outside, Arthur fixes his coat collar high around his cheeks to block the whipping winds. And finally having a moment alone with Dutch, he takes the opportunity to ask what has been plaguing his mind since you all left.

“What happened back there on that boat?” Arthur’s skeptical blue eyes hold Dutch’s dark ones, waiting for an explanation that he feels he’s owed.

“We missed you, Arthur. That’s what happened.” Dutch’s curt answer doesn’t provide any sort of information other than deflection with a slight hint of blame. “Now come on. We got to see if we can come across Micah or John. They’re supposed to be out there lookin’ around.”

He quickly stalks away to head towards the horses again, leaving Arthur standing disgruntled in the snow before he can even counter his point. Dutch throws his leg over the Count’s saddle, waiting impatiently for Arthur and Buck to pull up next him and then they head out into the frigid weather once more.

He should probably be sitting inside, trying to get warm, but the swell of anger and annoyance is more than enough to keep Arthur warm at the moment. None of this would be happening if Dutch and Micah had listened to him. But no. And now, friends are dead and missing, the law and Pinkertons are hot on your heels, and the gang is chased up into the middle of nowhere, freezing and starving.

The two men are not out too long before Micah meets them along the path. His body is covered in snow, Baylock’s mane crusted with ice. “I found a homestead with a fire lit a little ways back,” he informs the two riders. “Might be able to get some resources there.”

“Alright good, let’s take a look,” agrees Dutch. And the three of them plod along in the snow, back down to where Micah found the small ranch.

Upon reaching the top of the hill, Micah points down towards the property he found. There is a main house with some smaller buildings scattered about. And there is, indeed, a fire illuminating out into the blue of the night. They make their way down to the house, maneuvering around fence posts and small paddocks. They dismount and stash the horses at the edge of the property to make their way on foot, careful not to be noticed

“Alright,” whispers Dutch, “You two stay hidden out of sight. I’ll knock on the door and see what we’re dealing with. We may get farther with one freezing man out in the cold than three of us wielding guns.”

Arthur and Micah quietly nod in unison, a rare instance of camaraderie, and each find hiding spots crouching in the snow behind a chicken coop and a wagon, diligently watching Dutch as he approaches the dwelling and knocks on the door.

He is greeted by a man who is naturally uneasy at seeing someone arrive at his door at this hour and in these weather conditions. Dutch puts on his best friendly face at the sight of the skeptically scowling host.

“Hello, friend!” Dutch smiles brightly with that trademark silver tongue and charm. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but you see, my people and I got lost in this storm.” He pointedly waves his arm behind him towards the swirling snow. “And we’re hoping you might be able to help us out a little.”

From where they are sitting in the ice-crusted snow, Arthur and Micah watch the exchange between Dutch and the man, but suddenly, something catches Micah’s attention, causing him to abruptly sit up.

“Arthur!” he hisses, causing Arthur’s cautious eyes to leave Dutch’s form and dart in his direction. “There’s a body in this wagon!” Micah flips over the canvas that is covering the wooden structure he is hiding behind to reveal a corpse, dead at least a day with a bullet hole in his chest. “Somethin’ ain’t right here!”

And before he knows what’s happening, Arthur’s ears are assaulted by the loud cracks of gunfire. The air explodes into gunshots and shouting from all directions of the property. Quickly looking to cover Dutch, Arthur sees the man that greeted Dutch is dead in front of him with two more coming out of the house. Dutch backpedals, but makes quick work of them, while more men swarm the house from all around.

Now, say what you will about Micah Bell, but he is quite skilled with a gun, like it is an extension of himself. And being paired up with Arthur, the two easily take care of the collection of men that pour from the house and surrounding areas. Bullets mingled with wooden splinters from ill-aimed shots graze Arthur’s head, but he is a man ruled by instinct and reflexes, and the pounding of his heart gets pushed to the far reaches of his brain. Bodies quickly begin to fall, deep crimson blood staining the pristine white of the powdery snow.

The commotion settles almost as quickly as it began, calming once more to a deafening silence before Arthur and Micah are able to safely approach the house to join Dutch on the small porch. Dutch looms over one of the men that lays in a heap in the doorway, nudging him with his black boot.

“O’Driscolls” Dutch spits the name with disdain, his breath frosting like a halo above his head in the cold. “What the hell are they doing up here so far North?” He looks about again as if to find the answer in the room inside the house. “Well, whatever it is, nevermind right now. Check the place over, we got people waiting for us,” he nods in determination. “Grab whatever you can that would be useful, food, blankets, medicine.”

As the three men split up to comb the property, Arthur heads into the barn to see what he can find there. The scent of old, mildewing hay and unmucked stalls cascades into his nostrils as he crosses the threshold of the barn. His blue eyes scan the sparse area which is already looking thread-bare. A huff of disappointment escapes his chapped lips as he meanders listlessly, picking up random items such as a few oatcakes for his horse and a rope, but nothing too significant.

A shadow catches Arthur’s eye, his head snapping to attention in one of the stalls. Before he can make heads or tails of things, a body darts out of the shadows and jumps him from behind. The person hurls their meager body into Arthur’s much larger one, throwing their arms around him in a feeble attempt to knock him to the ground. Apparently another O’Driscoll hiding in the shadows.

However, the idiot has no idea who he is dealing with and Arthur quickly flips the man over his shoulder as if he were tossing nothing more than a bag of feed. The wind is knocked out of the man’s lungs as he slams flat onto his back, blinking the stars out of his eyes as Arthur is quick to grab ahold of his jacket and begins to land blow after blow to the intruder’s face. Arthur’s fists angrily pummel into skin and teeth, as the sound of bone crunching and blood spurting from a busted lip and nose quickly escalates to mix with pathetic whimpers and sings through the brisk air.

The commotion draws Dutch’s attention from where he is combing the fallen bodies for clues as to why the rival gang is here on this property. From outside he hurries over to the barn to make sure that Arthur is not in need of assistance. But Dutch stops short at the sight, mildly amused to see his right-hand man not only just fine, but has caught one of the trespassers.

The younger outlaw pauses, eyes intensely burning into the man beneath with his arm pulled back, threatening to deliver another blow.

“What are you all doin’ here?” Arthur shouts angrily.

The O’Driscoll cowers in fear as Arthur looms over him. “N..Nothin’! I swear!”

A sickening sound of blood squelching fills the air again with another punch to the teeth.

“Now, I sure don’t believe that.” A wickedly sadistic grin crawls across Arthur’s face, his breath circling in the air like that of a fire breathing dragon.

“I ain’t gonna ask again, what are you all doing out here?!” Arthur shouts, spittle flying into the man’s face.

“It’s…It’s a train. A train is coming through. Colm has us getting ready for it.”

A heartless chuckle rumbles from Dutch’s chest from where he stands in the doorway watching the interrogation. “Well, alright, then.” He turns to head back to the house with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Arthur, I'll trust you to take care of this.”

Arthur barely has time to process this information before he hears screaming coming from the main house. With his captor distracted, the O’Driscoll wrenches himself free from Arthur’s gloved hands and tries to flee, sprinting out from under Arthur’s grasp.

Tripping on his own two feet, the O’Driscoll tries to make a break for it across the yard. But he only gets so far before Arthur smoothly pulls his gun from his holster and calmly puts a bullet in the man’s back, landing him facedown in the snow. With that matter taken care of without so much as an afterthought, Arthur turns his full attention towards the continued ruckus coming from the house.

“What the hell is it now?” he mutters under his breath, and quickly stalks over to see what the next issue is that he has to deal with.

Taking the porch steps two at a time, Arthur barrels into the house to see Micah chasing a frazzled woman around a table as she is screaming in terror, hurling objects at him in self defense. Micah’s hands are held up, trying to placate the woman, but one could tell that he’d pounce on her the second he got close enough. Whether he was trying to calm her, or torment her even more, who knows, but either way, Arthur is infuriated at the sight. Arthur quickly rushes forward, shoving Micah out of his way, and putting himself between the two.

The poor woman is almost feral at this point, eyes wild, her hands desperately clutching any object she can get her hands on to try to defend herself.

“It’s alright, miss, we ain’t gonna hurt ya,” Arthur tells her, his voice low and soft, using the same tone he uses with Buck when he gets spooked.

The woman slowly ceases her screaming, her chest heaving in exhaustion as she tries to catch her breath, panicked eyes darting all around the room. Dutch comes up behind Arthur, also trying to calm the poor woman who is shaking like a leaf.

But the calm moment is all too brief as a fire quickly starts to spread across the floor from a lantern that was knocked over in the uproar.

“Come on, we gotta get outta here,” mutters Dutch. “Time to go.”

Dutch is quick to grab a large blanket from the living room, wrapping it around the small woman before directing her out of the house. Orange and red flames quickly crawl up the side of the walls of the dwelling like a spider as the four of them duck out of the house. Arthur tucks the woman against him to protect her from the elements, escorting her outside as the house begins to catch fire, engulfed and smoldering behind her.

“We ain’t good men,” he informs her, “but we’re better than those others, I guarantee.”

The poor thing quietly submits as Arthur carefully lifts her small frame up onto Buck’s saddle before climbing up himself and settling in front of her.

“They….they killed my husband,” she whimpers.

“You’ll be safe with us, miss,” assures Dutch as they begin to move away from the house. “What’s your name?”

“Sadie. Sadie Adler,” she mumbles as she turns her chin over her shoulder to watch her home and everything she loved so dearly burn to the ground.

*This fantastic images comes from @rosesrdr2photography

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A/N: I decided to break this section into multiple chapters like I did with "Feelings Revealed." This is the setup chapter, more drama (and love) to come!

Tag List: @rivetingrosie4 @bimbo-dollz @pine4pple-b0i @redwritr @kuri-chans-blog @queer-sadie-adler @joelmillerswifey @gimmethosedaddymilkers @pcotarelo @delilah-grimes @maemortem @wistfulwisteriawitch @lilacxxdreams @mentallyillfrogs @absolutegeek @spurz @sophiaj650 @uniqueclodzinevoid @lookingformaurice @pawoui @randomidk-123 @yyiikes @eddiemetalheadmunson @twola @kmartkiddieisle @red-dead-simp @regwishesshehadmagic @rhehr241 @earwen-x @akariver75 @djennty @nervousmumbling @xliliths @unbotheredbeeeee @onnetonprinsessa @kittiowolf210 @ezrynn @suhiss @arthurmargon @codnerd1999 @queer-sadie-adler @alice-vanderlinde @sweetandstoned21 @j4llyf7sh @spooky631 @m0r4rx @ilovrxats @i-69-urmom @ddbluesie @ivuravix @nervousmumbling @sickvictorianangel @tirededuxhours @ezzythereal1 @chloepluto1306 @ivys-valentine @spiritcatcherxo @lea-khena @brccklynbaby1 @foundynnel @readingcoco @carmelamontezlikr @ultraporcelainpig @sofiaa-xcx @namesaretomainstream @miphy @cookiesandcreaminthetardis @loveheartabby @daisybvck @julialoopeezz @a-court-of-valkyries

*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know. There are a few that would not let me link, so I apologize if this doesn’t ping some people.

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic

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wildandsmile · 11 months

Text

Summary: When your brother leaves for America to tend to some pressing business, he found himself in need of a favor, which you were unaware of. Little did you realize that this favor came with an unexpected twist – a pink-haired man tasked with monitoring your every move.

Tw: Weird club group , Bad pick up lines, kidnapping, stalking, unknown backstabbing and guns

Wc: 4.6k

Kinks: Fingering, Degrading, Cream-pie, Praising, Sir Name, Squirting, Exhibition, Sub Reader, Dom Reo, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), humiliation, Choking, Rough Sex and Knife play.

An: Kinktober is still going to be finished but I will only do my days instead of all 31 by myself, hope y’all can understand also sorry if the story weird I just wanted to get something out.

Enjoy Kinktober day 12!

Your older brother, a legendary gang leader in the heart of Tokyo, certainly brought some complications into your life. No more regular school for you, as he worried about a target on your back, so homeschooling it was. But the real headache was that everyone knew your face and your connection to him. It felt like trouble followed you everywhere, with people trying to get to him through you. So, you can imagine his frustration when he had to jet off to America, leaving you here, all alone and unprotected.

He was in a real bind, torn between his trip to America and leaving you all alone. So, as he sat there in his chair, puffing on a cigarette, he suddenly remembered that Toman mentioned wanting an alliance. Your brother wasn't one to make alliances lightly, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He picked up the phone and dialed them, striking a deal: he'd form an alliance, but only if they watched over you while he was gone. They didn't hesitate to jump on the opportunity.

And that's how you ended up standing at your front door, wearing nothing but an oversized shirt and pink panties, as you sleepily rubbed your eyes. There, you were greeted by a tall, pink-haired boy with star-shaped scars on the corners of his mouth. At first, you thought he must have had the wrong house, looking like he came to pick someone up for prom or something. But then it clicked – your brother had mentioned a pink-haired guy named Sanzu coming over to keep an eye on you. You couldn't quite recall the details because you'd zoned out when your brother explained it, something about him watching over you.

You barely had time to process it before you were shoved aside. Turning around, you found the guy already making himself at home, feet on your table and arms spread out on the edge of your couch. It irritated you, but you set that aside and approached him. After closing the door, you stood in front of him, hands on your hips, and decided it was time to lay down some ground rules.

"If you're going to be my bodyguard or whatever, we need to set some ground rules," you asserted, tilting your chin upward, trying to exude authority. The pink-haired man raised an eyebrow, and you continued, "Rule one: No breaking or messing up my or my brother's stuff, and get your feet off the table. Rule two: Don't follow me everywhere I go; I'll text you if I need your help or something. Rule thre—"

Your words were abruptly cut off as you noticed the man aiming a gun directly at your heart.

"Now you listen, princess," he declared, his voice oozing authority, "I'm the one who sets the rules here. I decide when you can come and go, who you can have over, and whose say matters. Your life is in my hands, so you'd better not get on my bad side. Do you understand ?"

The gun remained pointed at you as he spoke, but you couldn't help but roll your eyes. You started to walk away, but his gunshot into the floor stopped you in your tracks. "I said, do you understand me?" he growled, this time with a harsher and louder tone. You reluctantly turned back towards him and gave a quick nod, but in that instant, he fired at a vase right behind you.

"Use your words," he demanded, and you quickly forced out a hesitant, "Yes, sir."

With that, you made your way to your room and flopped onto your bed, pondering why your brother would choose a wild pink-haired lunatic, brandishing a gun at the slightest provocation, to protect his baby sister. You couldn't help but admit that the guy had some charm, but you quickly dismissed that notion from your mind, reminding yourself that you had school the next day.

Morning came, and your alarm blared, jolting you out of bed. You began your usual routine with some light stretches, a soothing hot bath, and a touch of makeup. However, when you emerged from your room into the dining hall, you were met with an unexpected sight. There were no servants awaiting your arrival, and there certainly wasn't any breakfast on the table. The only thing in sight was Sanzu, sprawled across the dining table like a model for a magazine cover, casually toying with your dartboard.

"What are you up to, and where are all the servants?" you inquired as you approached the man whose name you still hadn't obtained. He remained silent, seemingly oblivious to your presence, which was starting to irk you.

"I know you can hear me, Mister," you insisted, letting the last word linger as you searched for an unflattering nickname. Just as you were pondering, he finally spoke, "My name's Sanzu, and as for your servants, I sent them away. Can't be too trusting of anyone now that your brother's gone, not even me," he explained while lounging on the table.

You let out a sigh of frustration before heading to the kitchen to start preparing breakfast. Fortunately, you weren't so much of a spoiled rich kid that you couldn't make your own food. After about an hour, you returned to find Sanzu seated at the table, knife and fork in hand, as if he'd been eagerly awaiting his meal.

You were on the verge of ignoring him, but as you settled into your seat, something zipped past your cheek. You turned to see a dart, and it was clear who was behind it – Sanzu, still facing the other way. You rolled your eyes and returned to the kitchen, offering a middle finger salute as you mumbled, "If you wanted some, you could have just asked, asshole."

With a plate of food for the irritating pink-haired man in hand, you placed it in front of him and returned to your own seat. You closed your eyes to say a quick prayer, which seemed to get on Sanzu's nerves. He looked at you and commented, "You know there's no one listening, right?"

You gazed at him, your eyebrow raised and a hint of annoyance in your expression. "And how would you know that?" you questioned.

His response was laced with a bitter laugh, "If there were a god, neither you, your brother, nor any other gang member would be in this mess. We'd be living peaceful, happy, and healthy lives, but here we are." With that, he got up and walked away.

You decided to brush off Sanzu's earlier comment and resumed your prayer before eagerly digging into your meal. Once you had finished, you retreated to your study to join your teacher for the day's online lesson. This had been your monotonous routine for nearly three weeks – no going outside, no friends over, just making breakfast for both you and Sanzu, then retreating to your study for the day's schooling.

Truth be told, you were growing tired of the routine and decided it was time for a little adventure, away from your exasperating bodyguard. After your lesson, you informed Sanzu that you were going to bed and that he didn't need to worry about dinner. He offered a quick nod and waved you off, engrossed in flipping through various TV channels.

Back in your room, you readied yourself for your secret plan. You gathered your phone, wallet, makeup, different shoes, and a change of clothes, determined to slip out unnoticed.

Once you had all your essentials in hand, you called your friends, making sure they were exactly where they told you to meet, ensuring the cameras wouldn't catch you or the getaway car. After receiving confirmation that all was clear, you quietly descended to your brother's study. For some peculiar reason, this was the only room in the house the cameras couldn't see.

You carefully slipped out of a nearby window, evading any prying eyes, and managed to reach your friend's car without being detected. The moment you hopped in, your friend sped away as quickly as possible. And that's how you ended up at this club, indulging in drinks and dancing your heart out. It had been a while since you'd had this much fun and freedom.

As always, there had to be someone ready to ruin the fun, and in this case, it was a group of someones - a mix of girls and boys who approached you and your friends, attempting to flirt with you while delivering some of the lamest jokes and cheesy pickup lines you'd ever heard. The once-joyful atmosphere was now tainted, and you were ready to take a seat.

However, just as you turned to walk away, one of the girls grasped your wrist, halting your exit, and tried to reassure you, saying, "Come on, doll face, don't be shy. We're just trying to have a little fun." You gazed at her with a twisted expression of disgust, quickly sizing her up from head to toe. In a harsh tone, you retorted, "Let me go." Despite your threatening words, she still didn't release you. Frustration mounting, you did what any reasonable person would do and delivered a punch right to her throat, causing her to stumble back in pain.

Your brother had imparted some skills to you, though nothing too extreme. Yet now, all that training paid off. With your friends in tow, you decided it was time to leave the group that had spoiled your night. Before you departed, your bestie turned back, playfully tazed the troublesome girl, and stuck her tongue out, saying, "Gotcha, bitch."

You all stopped at a nearby restaurant for a quick meal, even though it didn't take long since it was already dark. While eating, a nagging feeling persisted, as if someone was watching you, but as you scanned the surroundings, you couldn't spot anyone, so you brushed it off.

Eventually, you and the girls paid for your food and began walking back to the car. Yet that eerie sensation of being observed didn't dissipate. You whispered to the group, huddled close, expressing your concerns. They all agreed that something felt off. With a quick nod of agreement, you all broke into a sprint, heading for the safety of your car.

You arrived in no time, your heart racing as you piled into the car. Locking the doors for safety, your friend ignited the engine, and within moments, smoke began to fill the car. The acrid scent immediately tipped you off to the nature of the gas – a sleeping agent. You urgently instructed your friend to open the door, but no matter how hard you all tried, it wouldn't budge, and by then, it was too late.

As you regained consciousness, you found yourself face-to-face with a masked man. Despite your efforts, your limbs felt immobilized, and your struggles proved futile. The man stepped back and chuckled, remarking, "You're a feisty one, aren't you?"

He then turned to converse with another man in the room, their hushed words leaving you in the dark. Letting out a long sigh, you realized this wasn't your first kidnapping experience. But, for the first time, you felt a tinge of fear because your brother wasn't around to protect you.

He then turned to confer with another man in the room, speaking in hushed tones that left you in the dark. Exhaling deeply, you realized this wasn't your first kidnapping, but it was the first time you felt a creeping sense of unease, as your protective brother was nowhere to be found.

"What kind of games?" you managed to ask as sweat trickled down your face. The masked man remained silent for a moment, only dragging the knife's tip along your bare thighs. When he reached the part of your skirt that covered the rest of your legs, he paused, gazing up at you with a wicked grin.

"Oh, the fun," he purred as he sliced through your skirt. You recoiled, and the other two assailants closed in. Fear began to well up inside you, and it was only when one of them placed a hand on your shoulder that you couldn't contain it any longer. You screamed, "Help! Somebody, help me, please!"

The masked man with the knife pressed the blade against your skin, whispering sinister words before he was abruptly interrupted. The door burst open, and all eyes turned to the entrance. There, like a knight in shining armor, stood Sanzu.

"Hey, princess, close your eyes for me, won't you?" Sanzu's voice broke through, and as he leaned against the door frame, you obeyed, shutting your eyes. Soon after, you heard a cacophony of noises and groans, and then the sensation of your hands being released and your body being lifted.

As you opened your eyes, you found Sanzu carrying you. Glancing back at the guys who had been your captors, they were sprawled out on the floor. When you turned your gaze back to Sanzu, he was looking down at you with a radiant smile, blood trickling from the sides of his head, and you could tell it wasn't his blood.

Finally, an exit came into view. Sanzu gently set you down and looked you directly in the eyes, saying, "Stay. I need to settle some business with those guys from earlier, okay?" You didn't say anything; you merely nodded in response. With that, he turned and walked back to where you had come from.

·٠•●🩷𝕾𝖆𝖓𝖟𝖚 𝕻𝕺𝖁 🩷●•٠·

He returned to the cold, dimly lit hallway and reentered the room, finding the men still unconscious. Taking his time, he carefully moved them all to the room's center and began tying them up. Nearby, a bucket of water caught his eye, and he grabbed it, emptying its contents over the group of men. Predictably, they awoke, wriggling and squirming, which only elicited a chuckle from Sanzu.

The men turned their gaze toward him, their voices filled with confusion. "What the hell are you doing, man? This wasn't part of the deal," one of them protested. Sanzu merely rolled his eyes and approached, pressing a gun to the man's forehead. "And I don't recall giving you permission to touch her either, so it seems we've both broken our deal in some way," he retorted, increasing the pressure on the gun.

The man from the other side attempted to speak but was abruptly silenced when the gun went off. His lifeless body fell limp, and a pool of blood began to form beneath him.

"I can't stand it when people ask me dumb questions," Sanzu declared, his gun aimed at the remaining man, and another gunshot rang out. He had systematically taken down all the men in the room except the one standing before him.

The man trembled, his heart racing, and Sanzu reveled in the fear that danced across the man's face. It was this thrill that had drawn him to the world of gangs in the first place. However, his excitement waned when the man began to shout at him, "You're a freakin' monster, nothing but a sick freak!"

In response, Sanzu let out a long, manic laugh and danced around like a madman. Once he regained his composure, he fixed his gaze on the man and explained, "Of course, I'm a monster. That's why I orchestrated all of this – to appear as a hero in her eyes, so she couldn't see the true man-eater that I am."

The man attempted to speak again but was silenced by a bullet through his head. With a sigh, Sanzu returned to the door, making a swift phone call, "Hey, Rindou, send the clean-up team to my location." He hung up and then made his way back to you.

·٠•●🩷𝕰𝖓𝖉 𝖔𝖋 𝕻𝕺𝖁 + 𝕿𝖎𝖒𝖊 𝕾𝖐𝖎𝖕🩷●•٠·

You were back at the house, and in a hurry, you headed straight to your room, shutting the door behind you. Unbeknownst to you, Sanzu had followed you, and it wasn't until you closed the door to your room that you noticed his presence. You quickly opened the door and pulled him into your room, asking, "Do you mind staying with me, at least until I calm down?"

Rolling his eyes, he gave you a quick nod and headed over to your bed. He plopped down on it and patted the spot beside him, and you interpreted that as his invitation to join him. With that, you closed your door and made your way to his side.

The two of you watched TV for a while, enjoying each other's company. The atmosphere shifted when a steamy scene played out on the TV. You couldn't help but catch yourself glancing at Sanzu and then back at the screen. Yet, every time you looked at him, he appeared unfazed, his attention firmly fixed on the television.

The moment you glanced at him again and found him staring back, a shiver ran down your spine. It was only then that you finally spoke up. "You know, if you keep undressing me with your eyes, I might just freeze to death," he teased, sporting a cheesy grin that left you blushing.

"I wasn't undressing you with my eyes," you countered, trying to mask your embarrassment, "I was just looking at you to pick something out as a gift for saving me." You couldn't help but fib through your teeth, but Sanzu wasn't buying it.

He pinned you to the bed, now hovering over you, and declared, "Now, come on, princess, no need to lie." You attempted to protest, but he silenced you by pressing his lips against yours. The kiss didn't linger for long, but it left your mind feeling hazy, like pudding.

"How about you let me help you forget about what happened today? Consider it my reward and your stress reliever. What do you say?" Sanzu inquired, peering deeply into your eyes. In response, you gave a quick nod, prompting him to kiss your forehead and neck while uttering, "Just remember, you asked for this, princess."

·٠•●🩷𝕾𝖒𝖚𝖙 🩷●•٠·

You keep your eyes closed as you groan and wriggle under his touch, savoring the feeling of the knife and his cold, numb fingers. You groan amusingly as you snap and trap the hand of the man with the pinker hair between your thighs.

The man replies, "Mmm, seems like you're ready for some fun," as he runs the blade of the knife down your stomach and watches you shudder with excitement. With a low voice, he says, "But first, we need to get you out of these clothes."

With that, he begins to carefully start cutting your large shirt with his knife, showing your exposed skin inch by inch.

After removing your shirt, he will straddle you while drawing patterns on your chest with a knife. "You know how much I love to play with you, don't you?" He grins and leans in for a kiss, then bites your neck. Slowly, teasely, he moves his free hand down your body in the direction of your underwear. "Let's see how much you can take" He adds, before sliding a finger under the elastic of your underwear and letting it go with a snap is other hand now setting the knife black on the table.

You recoil in horror and hiss as the stinging sensation hits your skin.

As he watches you lean into her touch, he chuckles gently and watches you with hungry eyes. He grins down at you and slides a finger under your pant elastic, rubbing his fingers gently between your folds. "You're so eager," he says. "But patience is a virtue, and I want to savor every moment," he says as he leans down to bite your nipple and sucks it into his mouth, setting aside the knife.

He mutters gently, "Mmm, you feel so good," as she continues to glide his hands expertly through your slickness, and his breath is hot against your skin. "You're so moist and so silky...You feel incredible under my fingers, but I think it's time for you to show me how badly you want it," he adds, sitting up and moving away with a sly grin on his face. Let me hear you grovel for it. "Beg me to touch you again and again."

You look into his eyes with desperation as you whisper, and you groan as you realize you won't be able to feel his touch again. "P-Please don't stop, I need your touch…please touch me. I'm pleading with you.

He laughs at your pleading and kisses you passionately, his fingers returning to your swollen clit. As he pulls away from the kiss, saying, "That's a good little pet," he watches you pant and wriggle against his, his touch remaining steady despite your throbbing core. To which he replied, "But I want to hear you say it louder."

If you don't respond, he'll get more aggressive, dropping his fingers to circle your wet hole and gently teasing it as your face contorts with pleasure.

Beg for it, already. As he asks, "How badly do you want to come?" his hands move rapidly and tightly against you, sparking a fire deep within you.

"Fuckk…Please don't cancel my trip; I really need to be here. You start to scream, but it doesn't help; he pulls away his hand and stands by the side of the bed.

Sanzu's mouth curved into an alluring grin as his fingers traced the curves of your trembling stomach, inching tantalizingly closer to the flimsy cloth that barely covered your alluring curves. He eagerly drew it down, longing to feel his hand disappear behind the plush velvet. As his fingertips brushed over your tantalizingly bare thighs, they inched ever so little closer to your yearning core, and your breath caught in your throat.

What's the point, "Come on don’t tell me I turned you into a dumb slut already yet, princess?" He poked his finger inside your cunt, laughing at how tightly the walls gripped his finger.

Knowing that keeping your tongue quiet was going to be impossible, you said, "Fuck," but you didn't want the moment to end since you were so attracted to him. You needed him badly. With your eyes closed, you muttered, "Fuck, Sanzu," again.

You began making low whimpers and groans as he pushed it in and out of you, causing your breathing to become irregular. When Sanzu inserted his middle finger and ramped up her speed, you tossed your head back in an instant because you wanted to hear more of the amazing noises you created particularly for him. And he was completely content with everything. You started repeating her name under your breath when he got to the portion of the speech that always made you roll your eyes back in your head.

He said softly, "You're making such a pretty mess princess, look at you." It was the mix of his chilling voice and deft hands that gave you the old familiar feeling of dread.

I like how flexible you are in my hands. He gushed, "You take me so well," as he raised your skirt fabric once more to examine your cunt with his free hand. As they dripped from your thighs, he saw that your fluids were soaking through his hand and collecting at your feet. Unable to contain his hilarity, he let out a whistle at the location.

You lowered your sight to the place where he met your body and moaned in shock because you couldn't believe how soaked you were for him. If you thought Sanzu turned you on, seeing your body react to his touch was a whole other experience.

While his enormous, thick fingers stretched out your cunt in the alley, all you could hear were wet moans. The ease with which his fingers glided into your cunt was almost mortifying. You would feel guilty about it if you weren't getting fucked out by him, but you didn't care.

"I'm- I'm so close! Close your eyes and dig your nails into his shoulder blades as you beg him not to stop.

Sanzu spoke softly in your ear, "Cum for me, princess," as you closed your eyes and agape your mouth in search of your high. You were on the edge of passing out from the exertion, yet he didn't stop his moves on your body until you practically begged him to.

After you've squirted all over his hands, he'll proudly observe your messy state as he pulls out each finger and brings it to his mouth to be sucked clean. Your eyes were glistening and your lips were bitten because you were too tired to talk. Your tits were almost visible now that your dress barely covered your upper torso.

You finally took a deep breath, but before you could adjust to his massive frame, he lined up his cock with your now too sensitive cunt and drove his throbbing cock within. You wept because carrying his presence within you was driving you crazy. After rubbing your clit in rough circles with his left palm, Sanzu made a series of low groans. And his right made its way to your thirst, landing softly on your throat and making you and Sanzu feel like you were about to cum.

You look great like a filthy little cum slut ready to get filled, but what you don't get to cum is what makes you look great. So feel free to cry on my cock while I decide if you can continue to breathe. You whimpered as your nails dug painfully into his wrist. Slowly, your disorientation returned. When I tell you to, princess, you'll cum on my cock. While his mouth was close to yours, he started talking. His voice cracked with effort, and you could hear him taking small breaths.

The messed up expression on your face as you moaned, "M'mm yes sir, promise not to cum until I'm told" only served to make Sanzu more aggressive.

After giving you a couple more sharp thrusts, Sanzu says, "Good girl," again. When he hits the sweet spot again and time again, a sound like a scream comes from deep within your chest. He let go of your neck a little while ago.

"Cum." Your eyes suddenly went white as the demand reached your ears. While you were having an orgasmic experience, you could feel his hips jitter against yours.

He gently backed away, admiring the sight of you straining to stand up with your legs spread wide and his sperm seeping out of you into the cold ground. After cleaning you up the two of you lay in bed looking at each other and you say “I never thought we would get to this point” with that Sanzu lets out a hard laugh before pulling you into a deep kiss and goes “Never did I”. And with in that moment the room to your door opens is you brother and without he say “What fuck is this”

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666writingcafe · 5 months

Text

Level Two

Dedicated to @ehejhrhrhrht-blog

Content Warning/Summary: MC literally gets thrown, Beel acts like a predator, biting

Your next session is in the twins' room. Prepare for a crash landing.

If I was a rational human being, I would have stopped the test after passing the first stage. The fact that I managed to resist one of the oldest demons in existence should be more than enough for me to get rewarded the star of chastity. I could have put this whole thing behind me and relaxed the rest of the evening.

But I tend to get tunnel vision when it comes to completing tasks. Even if I get incredibly frustrated, I hate stopping before I'm finished with something. I want to see it through to the end. It helps boost my confidence.

And so this silly little lamb walks up the stairs and stops in front of the door leading to the twins' bedroom.

Out of mere habit, I knock on the door. There have been too many incidents of me stumbling into something that I wasn't meant to see for me not to. Usually, there's some sort of response. Either "come in" or "Give me a minute" or even "I'm busy".

Not this time. Instead, I get radio silence.

Is it too late to back out? Surely, they'd understand me getting cold feet, right?

Don't be a coward. Besides, what's the worst that can happen?

Despite knowing that hardly anything good comes out of that question, I find myself opening the bedroom door. The next few seconds go by in a blur as I'm yanked up off the ground and sent flying across the room. As soon as my back hits the headboard of the the bed, I'm caged in by a body towering over me.

"I could eat you right now." Judging by the ravenous look in Beel's eyes, I think he means that literally. And not in a sexy way, either.

"Please don't." I feel stupid saying that, but it slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it. Beel chuckles, sounding harsher than usual.

"Well, of course not, MC. That would ruin half the fun." He forcibly tilts my head and licks down the side of my neck before biting down on it. Hard. I cry out in pain, but he ignores me as he begins sucking.

A warm feeling courses through my body, and it takes a lot of willpower for me to not allow it to control me. I have to look for an opening, and quickly.

Thankfully, one arrives when Beel lets go of me and begins repositioning himself, creating just enough space for me to roll off the bed.

"Playing hard to get, are we?" he asks, smiling menacingly at me. "I've always enjoyed a good hunt."

I nearly leap off to the side as Beel launches himself at me. His disorientation from hitting the wall is brief, but it's enough time for me to run over to Belphie's side of the room.

Something tells me that in order to pass this level, I have to find the note myself. I can't just ask Beel to hand it to me; that'd be too easy. I begin looking through Belphie's things, occasionally pausing to throw things at Beel to slow his progress.

My search turns up nothing. I stop moving momentarily as I think about where else the note might be, and Beel seizes his opportunity. Picking me up, he nearly slams me against the wall, once again pinning me in place with his body.

"Got you," he growls, resuming his attack on my neck. My hands grab wrap around his waist in an attempt to remain upright, and I feel something brush against my side.

Of course. His jacket.

One pocket contains a bunch of hard candy. I have more success with the other. Plucking the note out of it, I let go of him, allowing myself to side down to the floor.

Beel's eyes flicker towards the note I'm holding, and he breathes a sigh of relief as he steps back.

"Thank goodness," he murmurs. "I wasn't sure how much more you'd be able to take." He kneels down in front of me, still keeping his distance. "You had no idea how shocked I was when Asmo told me about this particular daydream of yours. I used to act animalistic in order to scare people, not to attract them." I shrug.

"I think it stems from me wishing that you wouldn't view me as being fragile," I explain. "I know that by being human, that makes me weaker than demons and angels, but that doesn't mean that I don't have any strength. I'm not going to shatter into a million pieces if you want to act more roughly towards me from time to time." He sighs again, sounding more weary this time.

"I know. You're one of the strongest people I know. I just don't want to do anything to permanently hurt you. You mean too much to me for me to do that with a clear conscience." He gets up off the floor and walks over to his bed, opening one of his bedside drawers and pulling out a bag of chips and a bottle of water.

"Here," he states, returning over to me and handing the items over to me before starting to pick up the mess I made on Belphie's side of the room.

"Do you need any help?" I ask.

"I got it, MC. Just focus on recovering."

#obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #i was trying to do something different than the usual “beel overstimulates mc by eating them out/giving them multiple bjs” content #while popular for good reason #it still can get repetitive after a while #i know this is on the violent side of things #but i feel it fits in with the whole demon thing #i believe that for the sake of diavolo's mission the demons are holding back in order to behave themselves #and mc #silly little lamb that they are #wants to see them act more like demons sometimes #don't know if any of that makes sense

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whatyadrawin · 8 months

Text

The Fruit After the Flesh 18+ - Chapter 5-

Minors DNI!

Masterlist

Approximately 3,435 words

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt(HeadCanon) x AFAB reader

This chapters Warnings: Mild sexually suggestive language, mention of medical issue, swear words.

A/n: Wow I had the WORST writers block, I baked a cake and ruminated on the story for a bit until it came back, and I feel right on track again. Thank you to everyone who waited, I will still be busy with schoolwork but I now can continue the fic train! As always, reblogs, likes and comments are extremely appreciated, and I hope you enjoy the chapter and art!

Tag List: @fan-goddess

Chapter 5

The morning came quickly with birds chirping and sunshine beaming into your bedroom, you wasted no time getting yourself ready for the day. When you went to the kitchen to make breakfast you noticed that you had no eggs in the fridge -ugh, I don’t want to make the 2hr drive to the next town for some eggs-, you lean back on the kitchen counter and think, you remember the Hewitts have chickens, -maybe they would let me have some eggs? I used all mine for the cake last night so I guess it’s a fair trade off-. This was a good excuse to try and see Tommy again, so you made up your mind to go visit.

Walking over to the Hewitt house was always a nice bit of exercise to get your legs moving, but the heat from the sun was strong today, and you foolishly didn’t think to wear a hat; your body is not accustomed to the Texan heat and you start to feel dizzy. You reach the edge of the Hewitt property and collapse from lightheadedness, your whole body starts overheating and makes you gasp for air as if you just ran a marathon. You look up at the house and see no one, so you try to call out but your energy levels are too low to make much noise and before you can keep your head lifted, you become so weak you can’t move or speak and instead just lay there, panting and helpless.

Tommy was tending to the cows in the barn, thinking of your smile last night after complimenting your dress, even if it was just a hand gesture. He really wanted to say more about how beautiful you looked but he couldn’t muster the words, he lived most of his life quietly ruminating to himself in his head. No one he had met as a child was kind to him because of the permanent scar on his face from a skin issue that wasn’t able to be fixed until it got too serious; Tommy never liked people looking at his face, the folks that lived in Fuller at that time were all very ignorant and cruel to people who were different than them. For once in his life, a pretty girl was kind to him and even interested in getting to know him better. He didn’t understand why you were nice to him, but he wasn’t one to question kindness, he would rather accept it and hope it lasts.

He heard footsteps crunching up the road near the driveway to his house, Tommy paused his work and looked out from the barn doors to see you shuffling up the road. He could tell something wasn’t right by the way your body was slouching and your feet dragging, he watched in shock as you fell to the ground. With a burst of speed, he launched himself into action, making his way down to where you fell. He could hear a quiet call for help come from you and just as your head lay down, he arrived to your body. He felt a knot in his stomach and kneeled to gently pick you up off the ground and bring you inside the house.

“MAWMA!” he yelled; his booming voice rang through the home.

Luda Mae came out from the back porch hurriedly “What’s goin’ on? Oh lord, is that *Y/N*?”

He raced over to the living room and gently lay you down on the couch, looking around helplessly. Luda Mae came and kneeled down next to you feeling your forehead,

“She’s too hot, get a towel and some ice water quick!” she shouts,

Tommy immediately obeys and runs to the kitchen grabbing the requested items, when he brought them back to where Luda Mae was, she quickly splashed water on your face and fanned your skin to cool you quicker. Tommy stood over you and had his hands up holding the back of his neck, he was so scared to lose the only friend he was able to make that it was making him sweat. With one more splash of cold water, you were able to get the energy to open your eyes to see a blurry Luda Mae and Tommy looming over you.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened” your voice was weak.

Luda Mae was smiling and happily shaking her hands upward in relief,

“Seems the heat got the best of you, gotta be careful in this weather hun”

You started to wake more, feeling a bit cold from all the water that was splashed on you,

“I really underestimated how strong the sun is out here, I just got so dizzy and weak” you explain,

“Well, yer lucky my boy was out there to collect you before blacking out” Luda Mae looks up at Tommy who was now relaxed with relief.

You feel embarrassed, “Oh god, I’m so sorry I scared you all. I think I need to go buy a hat and some UV protection”

You felt really badly for making them scared, you try to sit up but are still too weak to move and you slump back down. Luda Mae puts her hand on your arm and says,

“Don’t try to get up hun, you should rest here for a bit. Stay for lunch, I have some really moist chicken cookin’ up in the oven”

You feel so weak and tired from the heat so you agree to stay and rest, Luda Mae gets up,

“Don’t you move from there sweetheart; I’ll get you some cold water to drink.”

You respond “I really appreciate your kindness. I was actually on my way over here to ask about getting some eggs until I fainted”

“Ok hun, you just lay down there and try to rest some, you’ll be tired for a while. I’ll get you some eggs before you leave sweetheart.” Luda Mae walks toward the kitchen but turns and says “Tommy, you make sure to keep an eye on her now” she whisks off to the kitchen to get you the water.

Tommy goes and sits on a nearby chair that he barely fits in, he watches you with his chin resting on his hands. You look over at him, he is wearing a pair of really ragged jeans with work boots and only a dirt-stained white tank top. His skin was glistening with a layer of sweat and he stared back at you with his deep blue eyes, his hair was wet and tousled from rushing around, his mask still hid his face. He looked so good; you think about how easily he lifted your body and ran full speed with you in his arms.

“Thomas?” you speak softly, he lifts his head and sits up straight,

You continue “Thank you for saving me, I need to find a way to repay you.”

Tommy’s eyes widen and he shakes his head as he motions his hands downward to signify you needn’t worry about it. -he is so humble- you press on,

“You are such an amazing man, strong, kind, and humble. I just want you to know that I really appreciate having someone like you looking out for me, I haven’t felt safe like that in a long time… in your arms.”

You turn over to try and get comfortable, Tommy was taken aback by what you had said to him, you never fail to make him feel special. He shifted in his chair and rested his head on his raised hand watching you with a smile under his mask.

Luda Mae came back in and placed the water next to you, then she looked over at Tommy who was watching you in a haze of endearment.

She lets out a chuckle “You’re such a good boy, you make sure to get her whatever she asks for. Don’t mind your chores neither, I’ll get Charlie to finish ‘em.”

Luda Mae could tell he had feelings for you, and she would do anything in her power to get you two closer. In her eyes there was no one worthy enough for her boy, until you came, she saw how much empathy you had and how polite you were to everyone it was like you were a missing family member.

A few hours passed and you were woken up by a sweet voice calling your name, Luda Mae was leaning over you and gently placed her hand on your shoulder. You turned over to face her and she smiled saying,

“Lunch’ll be ready in five minutes hun, I just wanted you to be able to wake up slowly. Come on out to the porch when you’re good n’ ready, don’t you go n’ rush yourself now.”

Luda Mae walked off and you looked over to the chair and see Tommy still sitting there watching over you, as you start to sit up, he gets up and moves closer in case you struggle, you raise your hand and say,

“Don’t worry I’m ok, I feel way better actually, it’s as if I never got sick to begin with.”

He waits and watches you slowly place your feet on the floor, you begin to stand slowly but your knee muscles failed to clench and you fall, Tommy lunges forward and prevents you from hitting the floor by holding your waist, you look up at his face which was so close to yours and made you blush feeling butterflies tie a knot in your core; He gives you a concerned look but you are just frozen like a deer in headlights looking at his expressive eyes. He slowly raises you up to your feet as if you were a doll, he didn’t break eye contact and you felt light as air. He loosened his grip on your body and you snapped out of it,

“Sorry, I didn’t realize my muscles also needed to wake up” you let out an embarrassed giggle.

You were able to stand normally, and take a few steps successfully so you tell Tommy you are ok now and he takes his hands away from your waist but follows closely behind you as you make your way to the porch where Luda Mae had a table set and some spiced chicken laid out near a bunch of potatoes and some salad. Tommy pulls out your chair for you to sit in and makes his way over to the barn to relieve Charlie. Luda Mae comes out from the kitchen with a pitcher of lemonade and smiles at you saying,

“How’re you feelin’ hun?”

You smile at her and respond “I’m feeling way better now thanks to you and Thomas, I really appreciate the care and this amazing lunch too, I couldn’t ask for better neighbors.”

Luda Mae laughs and pours you a cup of lemonade,

“Oh hun, that’s so sweet of you to say. It’s nothing I’m sure you wouldn’t do for us if the situation was switched.”

You reply hurriedly “Of course I would help if you guys needed it, no question! I just want you to know I’m grateful to have people who care about me in my life.”

“Well, were grateful to have someone like you around who treats my boy right. We all really like you, Thomas especially; He was so worried about you that he didn’t move an inch the whole time you rested.” Luda Mae took a seat and placed some chicken on your plate.

Charlie comes over to the table to sit down, he shoots a glare at you and says, “Girly, you better not get weak to the sun again, I aint in the mood to do that lunkheads work while he sits and watches you with goo-goo eyes.” He smirks and gives you a wink then begins to eat his lunch. Luda Mae stares at him with an annoyed expression and follows up,

“Don’t get snippy with her, I made Thomas watch her in case she got sick or needed help. Besides, you needed a good bit of work what with how lazy you been lately.”

Charlie gasps “You old bat! Y’know how hard it is to work in this heat? I’m too old now, I don’t need to be trudgin’ about the farm when Tommy’s strong enough to do the work of ten men.”

He continues to eat his lunch and Luda Mae just rolls her eyes “You’re welcome for lunch” she said sarcastically, Charlie just nods and gives a thumbs up.

You look around for Tommy to come eat but he is still in the barn, you ask “Isn’t Thomas going to come eat? He must be pretty hungry.”

Charlie looks at you and responds “He can’t eat the way he wants to with you ‘round here.”

You give him a confused look, Luda Mae adds,

“Don’t worry hun, he’ll get a big lunch later after he walks you home when you’re ready to get going.” Luda Mae gets a big smile on her face and continues, “Would you like to stay for dinner sweetheart? I love having you around, it’s nice having another lady in the house.” She gives Charlie a dirty look.

“That’s extremely generous of you Luda Mae, but I need to get going. I still have more to repair in the house and I want to decide on a paint color to freshen up the place.” You look over to Charlie and ask “What do you mean he can’t eat the way he wants to? He ate dinner in front of me before.”

He looks back at you and says “Y’think he wears a mask for fun sweet thing?” you shake your head and he continues “He’s hidin’ some real ugly under there“-

“You shut your mouth Charlie, you make everything so impolite!” she looks over to you and explains “Thomas had a really bad skin condition when he was a youngin’, it got real bad and we couldn’t get help until it took its toll on his face, the poor baby. He has a bit of a… different face now”

Charlie laughs and adds “Oh for fucks sake Luda, the boy barely has skin left to hide his teeth, he looks like a damn monster without the mask. You baby him like he’s a newborn lamb, last time I checked he’s a fuckin’ mountain!” He looks over at you while crossing his arms and leaning back with a smirk “I bet you don’t care much how he looks underneath, don’t ya girly? You probably like monsters”

You blush and look at your plate, he wasn’t wrong, Tommy could have a frightening face and you would still have a crush on him.

“Yeah, look at her, she’s blushin’ like a schoolgirl.” Charlie gets up and takes his empty plate over to the kitchen but passes by you and quietly speaks in your ear “Be careful sweety, he really is a monster.”

Luda Mae whacks him with her kitchen towel and he scurries away laughing. She turns to you and apologizes,

“I’m so sorry about him, he’s incapable of behavin’ himself.” She sits back down and says, “Thomas is very handsome, his face underneath is just fine, it’s just a tiny bit scarred that’s all.”

You could barely hear her, your head was swimming with thoughts of Tommy being violent or dangerous like a monster -what did he mean when he said Tommy really is a monster?- The thought of Tommy being like a barely tamed wild animal who could break at any moment was frightening while also being strangely arousing. He was so gentle with you, he didn’t seem like the type to actively go out of his way to hurt someone but then again, you have been wrong about men before.

You ate the rest of your lunch and got up from your chair, Luda Mae got up from hers and said,

“You headin’ on your way now?” you nod and she adds, “Well wait there and let me get those eggs in a cloth for Thomas to hold when he walks you back home.”

You quickly respond “Oh, there’s no need for him to walk me home I’ll be fine, there’s already some clouds over the sun so its way cooler.”

Luda Mae gives you a look of dismissal, “Hun, I’d feel very badly if you got hurt or sick on your way back and there was no one to help you. Never you mind it being trouble.”

She walked toward the kitchen and you head over to the barn where Tommy was finishing his work, he was lifting hay bales into a storage area effortlessly. His huge muscles flexed every time he lifted a bale, and you couldn’t help but just stand there and watch this massive powerhouse sweat and grunt as he worked.

Luda Mae came with a folded cloth that had well over a dozen eggs, in it and called over to Tommy,

“Thomas, you’re going to walk *Y/N* back home. Carry the eggs I gave her and make sure she doesn’t fall.”

Luda Mae smiled and gave you a hug goodbye, Tommy walked over and grabbed the eggs and waited for you to start walking. You thank Luda Mae and make your way down the driveway with Tommy by your side. While on the road, Tommy made sure you walked in his shadow so that the sun couldn’t beat down on you again, you look up at him and you see his eyes squish up meaning he’s smiling under his mask.

“Thanks for walking me home Tommy. You know, I actually really like walking with you, it feels peaceful and safe.”

Tommy was happy to hear you shared his enjoyment, he liked having someone to look out for and protect, it was a nice change from his sordid history of slaughtering people which was something he never liked to do despite being good at it. All he knew was that he didn’t want to ever lose you, his life felt like it had more meaning with you around, as if the dark clouds of his mind were lifted. You were unlike anyone he had ever met and he would do anything for you, he wished he could tell you that.

You both arrived at your door and you took the eggs from him and stood still for a second, Tommy leaned over a bit to look at your face, he wondered why you paused quietly. You placed the eggs gently on the ground and gave Tommy a hug, he was so big you couldn’t even get close to touching your hands together. Tommy was in shock, he didn’t expect you to do that, but he welcomed the hug and closed his massive arms around your back and held you. He was still a bit damp from working and sweating in the heat, but he didn’t smell bad, he smelled like earth, and a musk that was like a spell being put on you. Normally most guys would smell terrible from hard labor, but Tommy smelled intoxicatingly good to you. He let out a relaxed sigh and leaned into you more,

“You really did save my life today, thank you again for being there for me.” You wanted to tell him how strongly you felt about him, but thanking him would be enough for now.

You loosen your hug and he lets you out of his arms gently, you add,

“I better let you go, you still haven’t eaten your lunch yet and I bet you’re really hungry.”

You smile at him and get another once-over on his appearance before he turns to leave. You never felt this way about someone before, he was like an enigma that invaded your thoughts all day every day, but you didn’t mind that. You wanted so desperately to know more about him, and now that you have his scent in your mind, you wanted more of that too. You remember hearing his voice when you were weak in his arms today, he called out for his mom with such a deep intensity, he had a powerful voice and you hope that one day he would be able to speak with you and say your name.

The day moved quickly and you were so tired from the heat that you skipped dinner and repairs and went straight to bed. You wished you could sleep with Tommy in the room again, you would sleep so well feeling so safe with him, but all you could do now was rest and dream of him.

Next chapter-

#what ya writin #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x y/n #slasher community #thomas hewitt x afab reader #leatherface 2006 #texas chainsaw massacre #my art #the fruit after the flesh

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nagito-kissmaeda · 21 days

Text

Community Gardens - Komaeda/Reader

CHAPTER ONE [here]

CHAPTER TWO

Word Count: 4837

Contains: No warnings as of yet Summary: You were a member of the reserve course before everything went to hell. Now you're helping the Future Foundation by tending to a small farm on Jabberwock Island, the real Ultimate Farmer was busy, so you will have to do.

The last member of class 77-B has just woken up, and he has questions.

AKA: A talentless reader teaches Komaeda about the smaller things in life, and maybe they fall in love.

Read on Ao3

You are elbow deep in dirt when he comes up the pathway to the garden plot. Most of the 77th class have been polite enough to you, but it was very rare that you got a visitor because the garden was pretty out of the way. It was fine really, it was going to be a while before any of the vegetables you were planting would even start to sprout so there was no reason for visitors. Hinata would drop by every now and again, though it always felt like it was out of obligation more than genuine concern. So seeing the figure in the distance slowly coming closer is a real shock.

You tip the brim of your straw hat up so you can take a look at your visitor. It’s someone you’ve never seen before, and with the small number of people on the island, that was an exciting development. You give him a warm smile and a small wave as he comes to a stop at the edge of the garden bed.

His brow furrows and his mouth pulls into a tight line, “Who are you?”

You laugh, “You must be the last one to wake up! Did Hinata not warn you about me before you started your walk?”

“I...no, he didn't.” He crosses his arms, and the sunlight bounces off the back of his metallic hand, “Hajime is in a meeting.”

You clap a palm to your forehead and laugh at yourself, “Silly me! I forgot it was meeting time, how do I keep forgetting something that happens once a week?” You take a moment to bring yourself up to your feet, dusting the dirt off of your overalls, “Did they let you leave early?”

He laughs breathily, “no, that's not it. I wasn't invited.” He swallows, looking down at the ground, “I'm not sure they've all forgiven me for…”

“Oh.”

He doesn't need to finish. The specifics of what went on in the Neo World program were not divulged to you, but you know enough.

“Well, i’m sure they'll come around eventually. Tsumiki had to drop by to check on a nasty bug bite I got a few days ago and she said that everyone was already starting to warm back up to her.” You smile up at him, “You’ll be okay.”

He doesn't say anything, he just blinks at you slowly, his white hair blowing in the breeze. You clear your throat, “well, since you're here. Do you think you could water the seedlings as I plant them? I'll finish up much quicker if you're happy to help.”

“Um.” He looks around for a second, seeming hesitant to answer, “...sure.”

“Thanks! Two hands make light work, you know?” You hoist the full watering can up from the ground and pass it into his awaiting hands. The handle clinked against his metal palm, “And your name - It’s Komaeda, yeah?”

“Mm.” He replies, “Komaeda Nagito.”

“Okay! Well, we need to move onto the empty plot up the back, follow me!” You say, and start walking. Komaeda is a decent bit taller than you, but it feels like his steps are laboured, he'd probably only been awake for a few days and had just re-learned how to walk.

“You never answered my question.” He says

You look at him over your shoulder, his face is already turning a little pink from the sun, “what question?”

“I asked who you are.”

“Oh yeah. Sorry. I can be forgetful sometimes.” You crouch down to the ground and dig a small hole in the dirt before grabbing a seedling and burying it inside, “I'm from the Future Foundation, I stayed behind to get the farm set up so you guys will still have food if something goes wrong with a shipment. Water that one, but be careful not to drown it-” you point to the seedling you’d just planted and then move onto the next, “I should only be here a couple of months longer.”

“Oh! The ultimate gardener! What a hopeful talent!” Komaeda says, watering the seedling before giving you a blinding smile, “nurturing life itself! What could possibly be more hopeful than that?”

“Oh no! Please don't misunderstand. I'm not an ultimate.”

He blinks at you, “not an…”

“The ultimate farmer is on the mainland. Somewhere near Kyoto.” You wipe the sweat from your brow and look up at the sky, watching the clouds pass over the sun, “the ultimate botanist didn't make it through the riots and the ultimate gardener was in Australia last we heard. The Foundation did ask if they wanted to come, but the answer was a no and they weren't going to force them.”

You give Komaeda a polite smile, “I'm just a regular person who likes gardening. That isn't so bad, is it?”

___

Komaeda comes back the next week. You don't ask if he skipped the meeting or if he still wasn't invited, because either way you are glad for the company. He grabs your watering can again and starts following you around as you check on all the seedlings you had planted the week before, he doesn't have much to say. He seems content to water your plants as you walk from plot to plot, it’s good he’s here, the plants do need diligent watering. The sun on the island is always hot and there hasn't been a drop of rain in the month or so since the foundation left you on the island.

“You said you aren't an ultimate.” Komaeda says, snapping you from your rhythm. Today is less labour intensive, so you are wearing a knee length sundress instead of your overalls. Komaeda is still in jeans and a coat, you are worried about him getting heatstroke.

“I did.” You reach out and finger the leaves of a particularly sad looking carrot, “it sounds like you have a question. Go on, don’t be shy.”

He nudges you out of the way so he can give the sickly carrot some water, “I didn’t know the Future Foundation hired those without talent.”

You laugh at that. A gentle chuckle that rises up from your chest, “Every business needs someone to get the coffee, and there are only so many ultimate personal assistants in the world.”

Komaeda is listening carefully, his head cocked gently in a way that makes the sunlight glint off his hair.

“I think there were about 50 of us normal people in the building, but there must be more out in the field and across the globe. There aren’t nearly enough ultimates to fill every spot at the foundation, and some of them wouldn’t even help us much. Hiring an ultimate firearms expert to file taxes would be a waste, you know what I mean?”

“Hm.” Komaeda says in lieu of a real reply. His lips are pulled tight and his brows are drawn, he is thinking a lot harder about this than you had expected him to. So hard that he loses focus on the plants he is watering.

“Hey.” You start, reaching up to place a hand on his cold metal wrist, “I think that one has had enough.”

His eyes flick to the carrot he is drowning, and he wrenches the watering can away, Looking at the soaking patch of soil with an expression of forced acceptance, “Ah. My apologies. I’ve ruined your garden...not that it comes as a surprise.”

“We’ve all killed a plant. Gardening is a crapshoot.” You gesture widely to the rest of the plot, “that’s why you plant so many! Kill one plant, kill a hundred, it doesn’t matter. There will still be plenty left.”

He laughs bitterly, tucking his free hand into his pocket, “not if I kill them all.”

Your heart reaches out for him. For the sad boy who thinks he is so cursed that one drowned plant foretells the death of a thousand. Whatever happened inside the simulation was none of your business, But you can’t help but wonder if it made him like this, or if this is how he has always been. A gust of wind picks up and blows past the garden, picking up dirt and leaves as it swirls past you and through Komaeda’s hair. He is very pretty, you decide.

“Unless you decide to stomp on every plant, you aren’t going to kill them all.”

He meets your gaze, his mouth curled in an imitation of a smile, but you can see his eyes are sad, “with my luck...you never know.”

___

It is a few weeks this time before you see him again. His green coat is rolled up to the elbows and there is an ill fitting wide brimmed hat on his head, it looks like his hair is all squished underneath it. As he comes closer you notice that the skin on his face is flaking.

“Sunburn?” You ask

He looks away sheepishly, “Mikan wouldn't let me outside again until it went away.”

“Dr. Tsumiki to the rescue! Good on her!” You exclaim, jumping up from your spot in the garden, “can I...take a look?”

“Mikan already checked on it this morning.” You can hear the creak of his metal hand clenching and unclenching at his side, “she’s the ultimate nurse, she won’t have missed anything.”

“I know, I know. But I took a first aid course in middle school, so don’t doubt my expertise.” You chew on your lower lip, squinting up at where the sun disappears behind Komaeda’s head, “Please. I just...I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

He raises his hands, almost like he is planning to shove you away, but then he lets them drop, “hm. Okay.” You take a step towards him, the top of your head only reaches his collarbones. His eyes flit between you and the middle distance as you draw closer and he gives you an uneasy smile, “everything accounted for?” He asks.

You chuckle, “yeah, your nose didn’t burn off or anything. Did Tsumiki give you sunblock? The hat won’t be enough.”

“She did. It smells weird.” He crosses his arms in front of himself as you continue examining the flaking skin on his face, “can I ask you something?”

You make a sad noise at a particularly large skin peel under his left eye, your hand itches to touch it, “uhhh. Sure.” You manage, forcing yourself to look him in the eye.

“Did the foundation scout you? Or did you apply?”

“Uh, both? Sort of.” Your hands are getting fidgety, so you clench them at your sides to keep them still, “i was actually a student at Hope’s Peak in the reserve course and they were running through the list of students to see if anyone survived. Last they heard um…” you try to focus on anything but Komaeda’s intense eyes, “last they heard, it was just me. I mean, I’m sure there are others who maybe evacuated or didn’t answer the phone. It can’t actually just be me, right?”

“How did you make it out?”

You sigh, “I didn’t. I was sick with the flu the week the riots started, and once my parents heard about what was happening they didn’t let me go back to school.” You can feel your voice getting shaky, “lucky break, huh?”

“So the rest of your cohort died in the name of despair, while you sat at home in bed, huh?” His eyes are cold as he looks at you. His vitriol is palpable, “am I getting this right?”

You shrug one shoulder, “pretty much.”

His eyebrows jump up at that, “you admit it?”

“Yeah, no reason not to.” You kneel down to the ground and start absentmindedly weeding around a strawberry patch. They are growing nicely, and it doesn’t look like any birds have been trying to eat them either, “I know that it wasn’t technically my fault what happened there, but the fact that one small change would have left me in the same boat as the rest of the reserve course, well…” you pull back some of the leaves, and smile at the sight of tiny green strawberries just beginning to grow, “I’ve been trying make my good fortune worth something. That’s why I joined the foundation, and why I decided to stay here and help all of you. I know I don’t have a talent, but there are plenty of things I’m good at! So I think that doing my best to bring hope back to the world in whatever small ways I can, is better than doing nothing at all.”

“But surely you must understand that any meagre hope you bring to the world will be inconsequential compared to the deeds of ultimates.” Komaeda replies, staring down at you. With you crouched low in the garden bed and his already impressive height, he makes an intimidating figure. You swallow, “Doesn’t that upset you? Don’t you feel worthless?”

Something clicks into place when he says that. His tone has changed and he sounds far away, like he is talking to someone else. You feel yourself soften, “Why should it upset me?”

“Huh?”

“I can't sing well enough to perform in a stadium, but my voice is perfect for lullabies. I couldn't cook in a five star restaurant, but my class loved my brownies.” You smile up at Komaeda, you can't help noticing he looks radiant in the sunlight, “I once watched the ultimate farmer plant a pumpkin under concrete and it still managed to grow straight through. I could never do that, but what I can do is grow enough food for you and the rest of the people on this island. Hope is still hope, even if it’s small. Right?”

Komaeda just stares at you for a few seconds, All is silent but for gulls and the ocean off in the distance. one curl of hair has escaped from under his sun hat and it flutters in the light breeze. Your heart is racing when you realise how desperately you want to tuck it behind his ear.

Then, finally. He moves. He crouches down at your side, close enough that you can see flecks of gold in his eyes, “can you teach me?”

“Teach you…?”

“How to garden.” He rests his elbows on his knees and leans in to take a closer look at your crop, “I’ve looked after a few pot plants in the past, but when you leave we’ll need someone to look after the farm so-“

“That’s a wonderful idea.” You said, beaming at him, “I’d love to help!”

“I hope I won’t be too much of a burden.”

You rest your hand on his and for some reason his skin feels electric, “Komaeda.” You breathe, and his eyes meet yours, “You could never be a burden.”

___

“Nice shirt.” You say the next time Komaeda comes to visit. When he expressed interest in helping you garden, you’d told him that he absolutely couldn’t show up in his big green coat unless he wanted to ruin it and pass out from heatstroke. Sending new clothes over seemed to be very low on the foundation’s list of priorities, so the other folks on the island spent a lot of time raiding the old Jabberwock island gift shop.

Komaeda’s new shirt is at least three sizes too big, he has it tied in a knot at the right hip to keep it from hanging down to mid thigh. The front of it reads in a bold bubblegum font, “Jabberwock Rocks!”

He laughs, “It was the only one left that wasn’t in kids sizes. Just my luck.”

Most of his white hair is pulled up in a high ponytail, but some of the shorter bits at the front are hanging in his eyes. He lifts one arm up to tuck some behind his ear and the shirt creeps up a little on the side he’s knotted. You see a flash of his skin, it’s suddenly hard to swallow.

“Oh, i wasn't trying to be facetious. I mean it, you look comfortable.”

He shrugs one shoulder, “It is comfortable I guess, even if i am swimming in it.”

“Well that’s good, because we’re actually doing some more planting today.” You gesture for Komaeda to follow you as you head out towards your newest garden bed, you’d spent the last three days tilling and fertilizing so it was finally ready for seeds, “It’s not a huge plot, and with you here I’m sure we’ll be finished nice and quick!”

He tilts his head at you, for some reason you find yourself taking notice of the way the large shirt dips under his collarbone. You swallow, “I thought you were done with planting?” He asks

“Oh, I was! This is just for my own enjoyment.” You reply, bending down to grab a spare trowel and a collection of seeds to pass to Komaeda, “We’re planting flowers. Sunflowers specifically.”

“Just because you like them?”

“I mean mostly because i like them. Tanaka also came by a few days ago looking for a more sustainable food source for his hamster- ah sorry. Dark Devas of Destruction.”

Komaeda nods pensively, “And they can eat sunflower seeds. I do remember him mentioning that.”

“So yeah, two birds one stone.” You crouch down and work on planting your first seed, gesturing for Komaeda to do the same, “I think it will be nice for you guys to have something pretty on the island. Sustainability is all well and good, but most people wouldn't want to live on tofu alone, if you know what i mean.”

He follows your lead, crouching down opposite you and copying the way you plant the seeds. Albeit slower and with shakier hands. They’re very nice hands, his fingers are really pretty. You feel your cheeks burning from more than just the sun, and quickly direct your attention back to the soil as you move onto planting the next seed.

“Have you…” Komaeda starts, still too focussed on his planting to look at you, “ever wanted a talent?”

“Of course I have. I get a little caught up sometimes in who i am supposed to be, and what my path in life is and I wonder if maybe having a talent would give me some clearer direction.” Komaeda is looking up at you now, there's a smudge of dirt on his cheek, “I’m not always that philosophical about it though, I get jealous like everyone else does. I try not to let it bother me too much, when I can, I work on focusing on the good parts of being talentless.”

“What good parts?” He says, it sounds more like a dismissal than a legitimate question. You have learned not to take these jabs of his to heart, it doesn't seem like they’re really directed at you.

“Well, even though i find myself a little directionless from time to time. The fact that my future is entirely my choosing is a luxury that most talented people cannot afford, even if they would like it.”

Komaeda scoffs and wipes his nose with the back of his hand. There is more dirt on his face now, “What reason would an Ultimate have to squander their talent?”

“Just because you’re good at something doesn't mean you enjoy it.”

“ Enjoying it, is beside the point. If you are gifted with an Ultimate talent, it’s your duty to use it to bring hope to the world.” He’s stopped gardening now, gesticulating wildly with his hands, sending dirt arcing off into every direction, “If you don’t use your talent, you might as well just be-“ he stops himself, as if he just remembered who he is talking to.

“Talentless?” You offer. Smiling softly.

“I-“ he turns his attention back to the soil, “yes, talentless.”

“People are worth more than their talents.” You say, moving onto planting your next seed, “Did you know that Tsumiki is learning to knit? Last time i saw her she was halfway through making this wobbly little purple scarf, it was her first try and she was so excited. Why should skill mean anything if doing something makes you happy?”

He doesn't reply, he’s looking up at you now and it feels like he is peeling back your layers with his eyes. You find yourself turning pink under his gaze.

“You should ask her about it next time you see her. I think she wants to show other people.” You laugh a little, tucking some hair behind your ear, “I mean, she took the time to show me, and I’m not even her friend.”

“Aren’t you?” Komaeda asks, tilting his head to the side.

You scoff, “No. I’m just a worker bee, I don't expect any of you to be friends with me if you don't want to. Anyway, if you want a more straightforward answer to your question, Yes I've often wished I had a talent.” you laugh quietly to yourself, averting your eyes as you feel yourself going red, “I’ve always wanted to be the Ultimate Songwriter, i uh…I really like love songs” You turn to Komaeda and smile, “What about you?”

“Huh?”

“What about you? What do you want your talent to be?”

His brow furrows, and he frowns, “I have a talent. It may be paltry compared to the hopeful talents of my classmates, but i have one. Don’t reduce me to your level.” He crosses his arms, eyes glinting with vitriol.

You laugh, “You misunderstood my question. If you could have a different talent, what would you want it to be?”

“What? I- I don’t-“

You give up on planting for now, crossing your legs and tucking your hands in your lap, Komaeda is practically squirming, “Come on, you can do it! Picture you get to meet yourself from another universe, what talent do you want him to have?”

Komaeda just stares at you, eyes wide. For a moment you think you’ve said something wrong, that you’ve offended him again. His mouth opens and closes, trying to find the words but unable, his hands are shaking, “He’s-“

His chest is heaving and what almost sounds like a sob hiccups in his throat as his arms wrap around himself. Trying to curl up inside of a coat that he isn't wearing, “He’s-”

It’s like something inside him snaps back into place, he shoots back up from the ground and turns away from you. For a moment you forget yourself and reach out to him. He leans away from your hand, panic visible on his face, “I have to go. I’m sorry.”

The wind is blowing gently and the sun is setting behind the trees as Komaeda walks off into the distance. You’re still sitting in the dirt, heart racing in your chest with the gravity of the moment that almost was. The stars, the planets, the whole universe stops, and you realise you are in love with him.

___

It isn't Komaeda who comes to visit next, but Hinata. You feel guilty at the way your heart sinks when you see him walking up the path, he’s wearing one of the shirts he thrifted from the giftshop, a hideous orange hawaiian affair decorated with apples and bananas. The shirt is like a beacon, you know it’s him from a mile away.

You’d spent all night pondering your next conversation with Komaeda, what you were going to say. You wonder if there has been a shift in your relationship after that moment you stepped over the line in the sand. After he left , you didn't attempt to follow. If he needed space you weren't going to stop him. You just hoped he would trust you enough to come back.

“Good morning, Hinata.” You say, pulling yourself up from the ground and dusting the dirt of your overalls, “everything okay?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Everything’s fine.” He tucks his hands in his pockets and takes a quick glance at your garden, “plants growing alright?”

You nod, “it’s slow going, I’ve been watering every day but there hasn’t been any rain.”

Hinata cringes, rubbing the back of his neck, “sorry I couldn’t help. I’m still...getting the hang of him.”

A few days after he woke up, Hinata had attempted to, as he described it, ‘wrangle Kamukura’ and use some of his talents to force it to rain. There had been a very quick and very aggressive torrential downpour, and then five hours straight of snow. After that it seems there was an executive decision to keep Kamukura locked away for now.

“I spoke to Souda about an irrigation system. He’s been scavenging for parts but he said it will

Probably be a few weeks, maybe a month.” You shrug one shoulder, “I just need to keep everything alive until then, it’ll be okay.”

“Thanks for giving him something to do. He was getting a little restless.” Hinata laughs to himself, “Kazuichi can be a nightmare when he’s restless.”

“I’m glad to be useful, even if it just means keeping Souda busy.” You smile and wipe your brow with the back of your hand. The sun is relentless as always, “Did you need something from me, Hinata? I doubt you just came by to chat.”

“Oh, uh yeah.” He starts, “The foundation sent the karaoke set that Ibuki has been begging for since day one.” Hinata smirks wryly at the thought, “So we’re having a party on the beach tonight.”

“Oh!” You say, “That’s nice, i hope you all have fun!”

Hinata blinks and clears his throat, “I’m inviting you.”

“Inviting me? You don't have to do that!” You say, heading a little further down the plot to water some more plants “I’ve been learning how to cross stitch so I have plenty to do tonight.”

Hinata’s red eye is boring into you. Your heart races. There is a secret that you haven't told even Komaeda about, a secret that maybe even the Future Foundation doesn't know, a secret that Hinata himself seems to have forgotten, so you swallow the thoughts down for now. It would be a waste to bring them up.

“Everyone is going to be there, that includes you.”

You smile, it’s nice of him to try and include you in the group. You know better. The class of 77-B has been nothing short of welcoming, but you are not their friend, “I’ll see what i can do.” he turns to leave, but right as he does you have a sudden thought, “Oh, Hinata?”

“Mm?”

“Can you tell Komaeda i said hello?”

Hinata blinks at you, “Tell...Komaeda…” he shakes his head, “Wait, is this where he’s been disappearing to?”

Your heart sinks like a rock in your chest, “He didn't tell you?”

“He didn't tell anyone.”

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, but all you can think about is Komaeda keeping you like some shameful little secret. You force a smile, “Dont worry about it, then!”

Hinata’s brows draw and he takes a step closer to you, “Wait, I have questions.” he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, “Has he been treating you okay?”

“Of course he has.” You tilt your head to the side, confused, “He gets a little rude sometimes, but i'm not sure he entirely means it.”

“Nothing...weird?”

Now you’re really confused, “No. Nothing weird. He’s quiet, contemplative. He mostly just asks me questions.”

The tension leaves Hinata’s shoulders and he nods, “Okay. Good. I-” He crosses his arms and averts his eyes, “I’m worried about him. He’s been, I don't know, withdrawn? Since he woke up, I haven't had much time to talk to him about it. That is if he would even listen to me.”

“Hinata. I know-” You sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself nervously, “I know that what happened in the program is none of my business, and that there must be a reason the Foundation didnt tell me everything but-”

Hinata holds up a hand and says, “I’m gonna stop you there. You’re right that it’s none of your business, and i would honestly prefer you didn't know if you didn't have to.” he exhales, “but if Nagito wants to tell you, I’m not going to stop him. I’m just not sure that should be my choice to make.”

“I don’t think i want to ask him.”

He huffs and rests his hands on his hips, “Yeah, i probably wouldn't either. Look, it uh- it was kind of fucked in there, you know? I just want to make sure everyone is doing okay now that we’re out, so if you notice anything strange-”

“I’ll tell you.” your eyes are feeling heavy, and you suddenly realise that you are trying not to cry, “Don't um...don't tell Komaeda i mentioned him. I think he would prefer no one knew that he was coming here.”

“Sure…” Hinata replies, he sounds uneasy, maybe even a little confused, “I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

You nod.

Hinata leaves.

You don't go to the party.

#komaeda x reader #nagito x reader #danganronpa x reader #nagito komaeda x reader

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