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pin-k-ink · 4 months

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caught in between // grimmjow jeagerjaquez & ulquiorra schiffer (pt. 3)

tw: possessive!ulquiorra, fingering, nipple play, a tiny bit of angst, squirting, unprotected sex, dirty talk (it’s ulquiorra so don’t expect much), praise kink, grimmjow makes a small appearance

wc: 3.7k

part one | part two | part three

The ghost of Ulquiorra's heated words lingered - "I have no intention of sharing you with anyone else. Ever again."

His scorching proclamation of possession had set your body ablaze with newfound cravings that night. The way he claimed your mouth, his calloused hands commanding your curves, the low timbre of his growls vibrating against your skin - it unlocked hungers you never knew existed.

But Ulquiorra's behavior soon became as frigid as ever, avoiding your gaze and presence like you were a scourge to be avoided. No hints of that awakened ardor remained. Just his typical unflinching aloofness as if that heated encounter never transpired.

You knew better than to seek answers. Ulquiorra made his disinterest in anything beyond the physical painfully clear time and again. So you bottled up the sting of rejection, your only companion the endless loop of confusion and insecurity plaguing your thoughts.

Why had he torn down those walls only to fortify them once more? Were you simply a mere plaything to sate his primal whims when the impulse struck? Loathed for your weakness the moment of passion subsided?

Lost in these self-doubts, you failed to notice the harsh spike of reiatsu until the door to your quarters burst open with a crash.

"Well, well...if it ain't Las Noches' most sought after little piece," Grimmjow's gravelly voice oozed obscenity. "I can smell that beautiful stank of vulnerability from a mile away, kitten."

His lecherous smirk carved deeper at your dejection as his pale blue eyes roamed your curled-in posture without shame. "Don't got your panties in a twist since I hit that perfect pussy last, do ya?"

Your body stiffened at Grimmjow's vulgar evaluation, shrinking further into yourself. You knew better than to rise to his taunts - that's exactly what he craved. The vile nicknames and degradations rolled off your tongue like drips of venom whenever you dared challenge him.

Before you could attempt to wave him off, Grimmjow closed the distance in several long strides. His large hand fisted in your hair, yanking your head back as he dragged you flush against his muscled form.

"Don't act so shy now, babydoll," he purred, hot breath fanning along the exposed column of your neck. "Need I remind you how much your greedy little cunt was squeezin’ this dick that night?"

Grimmjow ground his growing arousal against you purposefully as his free hand shoved your robes aside. Calloused fingertips trailed along the swell of your breast before giving it a rough squeeze.

You remained pliant under his dominance, not an ounce of defiance in your frame as he mouthed along your jugular hungrily. Normally his bold manhandling would have you squirming with need, hips rolling wantonly against him. But tonight, you felt...numb. Hollow. hehe hollow

Grimmjow stilled, finally registering your complete lack of reaction. With a frustrated growl, he grabbed your chin roughly, forcing you to meet his probing glare.

"The hell's gotten into you?" he demanded through gritted teeth. "I know you want this just as bad, you little slut."

Still you said nothing, merely holding his intense stare impassively. Grimmjow's grip on you relaxed a fraction as his brows furrowed, somehow sensing something besides lust was amiss.

"Don't tell me Ulquiorra's icy act has finally gotten to you," he scoffed, rough fingers still gripping your chin. "That bastard couldn't find his way outta a real emotion if his life depended on it."

You remained silent, but the slight tremor in your lower lip gave you away. Grimmjow's mocking smirk softened minutely.

"Ah, so that's what's got your pretty little panties in a twist," he murmured, thumb tracing the plump swell of your mouth. "Did his highness pull another of his little hot and cold acts? Warmin' your sheets one night only to freeze you out after?"

Your chin quivered tellingly in his grasp. Grimmjow tsked, shaking his head in faint amusement as he pulled you closer once more, his other arm banding around your waist.

"Listen up, kitten. That's just how the prick operates," he breathed against the crown of your head. "Gets a taste of the good stuff only to retreat back into his philosophical bullshit once the nut's been busted."

His crass bluntness should have earned him a firm rebuke. But you simply sagged further against Grimmjow's broad chest, seeking an anchor in his hold as your hands bunched his jacket lapels.

"Pretty fucked up, I'll give you that," he continued thoughtfully, fingers skating along your lower back. "But you know what'll help get your mind offa that shit?"

Grimmjow's palm traveled lower, cupping your backside and giving it an emphatic squeeze as his hips canted against yours.

"Lemme put this fat dick back where it belongs, huh?" he rumbled, tongue tracing the delicate shell of your ear. "Make you forget all about that cold prick's mind games for a while."

You shuddered despite yourself at his familiar gravelly murmurs. Perhaps letting Grimmjow distract your troubled thoughts wasn't the wisest idea...but you already felt yourself falling under his seductive spell once more.

The slick glide of Grimmjow's skilled tongue along the column of your neck had you melting against him, a soft mewl escaping your lips as his wandering hands stoked your arousal. Perhaps letting him lavish you with rough affection was unwise, but surely it beat wallowing alone with your turbulent thoughts.

Just as you began to lose yourself in Grimmjow's intoxicating touch, a frigid spike of reiatsu pierced the heady atmosphere. You gasped, instinctively stiffening in Grimmjow's arms as a familiar presence manifested in the room like an ominous storm front.

"My, my..." Grimmjow drawled languidly, not bothering to face the intruder as his teeth grazed your earlobe. "If it isn't the man of the hour himself. You're just in time for the show, princess."

"Remove yourself from her vicinity. Now." Ulquiorra's tone was arctic, promising unspeakable violence should his directive go unheeded.

Grimmjow merely chuckled, the rumbling vibration sending tingles across your sensitized skin before he slowly released you. You immediately shrank back, head bowed in a futile attempt to avoid Ulquiorra's withering emerald glare.

"Didn't realize you'd get your pansy panties in such a twist just from me giving the lady some much-needed attention," Grimmjow tossed over his shoulder as he slinked for the exit. "My bad. She's all yours, jackass."

The breath stilled in your lungs as the two Espada's reiatsu clashed in the confines of your chamber, nearly buckling your knees with its intensity. You didn't dare raise your gaze until Grimmjow's presence faded into the distance.

When you finally chanced a peek at Ulquiorra, regret came swiftly. Unlike his typical unflappable demeanor, barely-restrained fury was contorting his features into something feral.

"Is this a new pastime of yours?" he seethed through gritted teeth. "Fraternizing with any of Las Noches' strays the moment I turn my back?"

Your mouth worked uselessly as you cowered under his menacing stare, hands fisting in the disheveled folds of your robes. This unreserved hostility was so at odds with the tenderness he'd shown just days prior.

Ulquiorra advanced with measured strides until his chest was a hairsbreadth from yours. You shrank back on instinct, but his fingers ruthlessly gripped your jaw, forcing your widened eyes to meet his.

"You'd do well to remember your place, woman," he hissed lowly. "Any further indiscretions and I'll be forced to--"

A choked whimper broke free as tears began to streak your flushed cheeks. Your throat ached with the effort to hold back deeper sobs wracking your frame.

Ulquiorra cut off abruptly, brows twitching ever so slightly at the unexpected display of raw emotion. Both your bodies remained frozen in that charged tableau, his vice-like hold the only point of contact.

Then, in a seemingly unconscious motion, the pad of his thumb brushed away the dampness from your cheekbone. His glinting stare bored into your own, furrow deepening as if searching for...something.

The gentle swipe of calloused skin seared through you more intensely than his brutal grip moments before. Your breath hitched under his penetrating scrutiny, scarcely daring to believe the shift in his manner.

Ulquiorra's gaze flickered to your parted lips. You barely registered his hooded lids drifting shut before his mouth crashed over yours in a searing kiss.

Ulquiorra kissed you with an ardor that contrasted starkly with his earlier rage, as if he was a man starved. His lithe frame pinned you against the nearest wall, one palm cradling your nape while the other mapped every curve hungrily. You surrendered to his questing mouth, reveling in the low rumbles vibrating from his chest.

Without preamble, he hooked an arm beneath your knees, easily lifting and cradling you to his chiseled torso. You blinked up at him in breathless surprise as he began carrying you from your chambers, emerald eyes burning with an intensity you'd never witnessed before.

The journey to his private quarters passed in a heated haze. You trailed open-mouthed kisses along the strong column of his neck, fingertips skating the defined musculature of his back and shoulders as he strode with purposeful strides.

Finally, Ulquiorra crossed the threshold and sealed you both inside, kicking the door shut with a resounding thud. He didn't pause until depositing you atop the neatly tucked sheets of his own bed. You drank in the image of him hovering above, face half-shadowed and muscles rippling beneath the remaining swathes of his uniform.

His piercing emerald stare held you immobile as his calloused palms bracketed your flushed face.

"That night, when Grimmjow dared defile you with his debased presence before my eyes..." Ulquiorra's deep timbre carried a rarefied rumble. "Had he so much as looked upon you improperly, I would not have hesitated to tear out his throat with my bare hands."

One hand trailed down the side of your neck with deliberate slowness as he leaned closer, breath fanning hotly against your lips.

"You are mine, woman. Mine to claim..." His other hand found purchase at the curve of your hip, yanking you flush against the rigid planes of his body. "Mine alone to touch, to covet, to possess utterly."

Ulquiorra crushed his mouth against yours in a searing, punishing kiss, as if staking an irrevocable brand of possession. When he at last released your abused lips with a rasp of air, his intense stare had you pinned unblinkingly.

"I will no longer tolerate any inability on your part to understand the extent of what you mean to me," he vowed in a low growl. "Your existence belongs to me and no other. This mindless jealousy is...unacceptable."

Ulquiorra's burning stare held you transfixed as his dexterous fingers made deft work of the buckles and fastenings of his remaining clothes. With each released clasp, more of his marble-pale flesh was laid bare.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from the hollow cavity in the center of his toned chest - the eternal reminder of the sacrifice of his heart. The sharp, black lines framing the void seemed to beckon, tempting you to reach out and trace their unusual patterns.

As the white jacket parted and slipped from his lithe form, you marveled at the sculptural contours of Ulquiorra's body. The defined valleys and peaks of his musculature appeared carved from the finest alabaster beneath his deceptively delicate ivory skin. He moved with an almost preternatural grace, like some ancient greco-roman statue given unnatural life.

When his hakama pooled at his feet, your breath hitched at the sight of his nude, chiseled figure bathed in the moonglow filtering through the window slits. The dark lines adorning every inch of his form only enhanced the ethereal, haunting beauty in his design.

Ulquiorra's penetrating stare missed nothing as he drank in your unhidden admiration and awe. His eyes glinted emerald in the low light as he reached for you once more, looming over your splayed form with the dangerous poise of a great white panther.

"What you've awoken within me..." he rasped in a gravity-laced baritone. "This relentless, maddening need to make you truly understand you are utterly mine in every sense..."

His mouth crashed over yours in a searing, uninhibited kiss that robbed you of any coherent thought - only the overwhelming sensation of finally being subsumed by this enigmatic fallen angel's fever.

Ulquiorra's scorching kisses left a blazing trail down the slender column of your neck. His deft fingers made short work of the fastenings securing your robes, pushing the folds of fabric aside to map every newly exposed inch of silken skin.

You arched instinctively into his exploratory caresses, a soft keen escaping as his lips found that sensitive hollow beneath your ear. Ulquiorra's calloused palms traced up the underside of your thighs before hooking behind your knees, effortlessly drawing your legs around his narrow hips.

"You are the only light in my eternal damnation," he murmured in a low rasp against the racing pulse at your throat. "This insatiable thirst you've awakened cannot be quelled by anything but submitting you to the deepest recesses of my obsession."

With one final tug, the last offending layers were banished, leaving you achingly bare before his piercing regard. Ulquiorra's smoldering stare roved every curve and swell as if committing your form to memory for the first time. When his gaze at last met yours, those blazing emerald orbs held the intensity of a thousand hot suns.

"You are mine, woman," he growled with irrefutable possession. "Every whimper, every gasp, every broken cry of ecstasy - all of it belongs only to me."

Calloused fingertips trailed down the valley between your breasts with torturous leisure as Ulquiorra's mouth began mapping your feverish skin once more. You could only surrender beneath his scorching brand, a willing offering soon to be consumed wholly by his all-consuming blaze as soon as he sealed his mouth over the peak of your breast.

His hot, wet tongue swirled a slow circuit, laving the pert bud relentlessly before suckling with bruising force. The rough pads of his fingers rolled the other peak in perfect rhythm, sending bolts of electricity straight to your core.

"Ul-Ulquiorra, please," you keened, hips instinctively rolling against him. "I-I need..."

"Do not test my self-control," he warned with a low growl, teeth scraping against the supple swell of your breast. "Or I will be forced to prolong your torment."

"N-no, please...I'm sorry," you panted, nails raking against the sculpted muscles of his back. "P-please...I can't..."

Ulquiorra's sinful mouth returned its attentions to the other nipple, mercilessly suckling and nipping until the sensations became almost too much to bear. When his hand traveled lower, his long fingers easily parting your slick folds, your spine bowed and hips bucked wildly.

"Look at how beautifully you fall apart beneath my touch," he mused against the flushed column of your neck, a rare hint of amusement in his gravel-laced voice.

His fingers continued their unhurried exploration, the rough pads stroking that perfect bundle of nerves with agonizing precision. A fresh wave of slick coated his teasing digits, your walls already beginning to flutter around his touch.

"Tell me, woman," Ulquiorra drawled against the shell of your ear, his deep tone edged with a dark promise. "Does your cunt still beg for his touch?"

You writhed restlessly against the sheets, a high-pitched whimper slipping from your kiss-bruised lips as his expert touch sent shocks of pleasure coursing through your veins.

"N-no, never," you gasped, nails digging into his flexing shoulder blades. "Only...only y-yours."

"And what about his filthy words," Ulquiorra continued, his thumb rolling a punishing rhythm across your swollen bundle of nerves. "How he spoke of defiling your sweet cunt with his filthy cock. Do they still linger in your mind?"

His skilled digits continued their relentless assault, sending you hurtling towards release at a maddening pace. Your inner walls began clamping down around his fingers, signaling an imminent plunge.

"N-no, just y-yours," you whimpered, head thrashing against the sheets. "I-I'm only y-yours, please..."

"Good girl," he rasped, lips ghosting the column of your throat. "Cum for me, now."

That last command sent you crashing over the edge with a wordless cry, a blinding supernova exploding behind your eyelids as your inner walls rippled violently around his fingers, scalding liquid gushing from your weeping entrance.

As you gradually surfaced, a soft mewl escaped at the sensation of him removing his fingers from your slick heat. Your gaze followed the movement to find his hand slowly disappearing into his mouth, lips wrapping obscenely around his digits and sucking them clean with a low hum.

"So sweet," he murmured, eyes falling closed briefly. "But you're not finished, woman."

Without preamble, Ulquiorra gripped the undersides of your thighs, spreading them wide and exposing your slick, puffy folds. A shiver wracked your frame at the raw, feral hunger darkening his emerald stare as he lined his thick length against your drenched entrance.

He sheathed himself within your molten depths in a single thrust, hissing through gritted teeth at the feeling of you wrapped snugly around his shaft. You arched, spine bowing from the bed as a breathless sob ripped free, the sudden fullness nearly driving you out of your mind.

"You are perfection, woman," he ground out, the muscles of his back rippling beneath your frantic grasp. "Your body was molded to fit my cock, alone."

Then, without another moment's hesitation, he set a brutal pace.

Ulquiorra's sculpted hips pistoned relentlessly, his heavy sac slapping against the curve of your ass with every deep thrust. He was buried to the hilt with each stroke, the thick tip grinding against your most sensitive spots, and stretching you to the brink.

Every drag of his velvet-over-steel length within your fluttering walls was like the sweetest torture. Every nerve ending was ablaze with pleasure and pain. The coil wound tighter with every punishing thrust.

"Ul-Ulquiorra..." you panted, hands clawing at his back. "P-please, I'm s-so close..."

"Not yet," he commanded, fingers digging deeper into the supple flesh of your thighs. "You'll cum only when I command it."

You could only whimper helplessly beneath his dominance, a litany of pleas spilling forth unbidden. You were a slave to his carnal will, utterly subsumed by his ardor.

With a low growl, Ulquiorra hauled you upright, seating you fully atop his pistoning length. His sculpted torso remained flush against yours, his mouth hovering scant inches from yours as the new angle drove his shaft even deeper.

He held you impossibly tight against him, as if unwilling to permit any distance between you. One large palm cradled your nape, the other hooked beneath your thigh as he resumed his relentless pace, this time driving up into you.

The change in angle had you seeing stars, a breathless keen ripping from your throat. You could do nothing but cling desperately to his broad shoulders, nails scoring the muscled planes of his back, as his thrusts sent you hurtling closer to oblivion.

"Now, woman," Ulquiorra commanded through clenched teeth, emerald eyes glinting in the moonlight. "Cum. For. Me."

At the moment he punctuated those last three words, the hand on your thigh snaked down between your bodies to press ruthlessly against your swollen, pulsating bundle of nerves. The added stimulation coupled with his final, deep thrust was enough to send you careening over the edge with a wordless, primal cry.

Your inner walls spasmed violently around his impossibly thick length, the force of your release nearly painful as you gushed and sprayed all over his shaft and the sheets. A guttural groan vibrated from his chest, his eyes fluttering shut and mouth falling open at the overwhelming sensation of your inner walls clamping down around him.

Ulquiorra captured your mouth in a searing, unchained kiss as his hips bucked wildly, burying himself to the hilt one last time. You moaned, relishing the scorching spurts of his release coating your walls and the sensation of his throbbing cock filling you completely.

He remained buried inside, holding you against his sculpted frame as his shaft twitched and pulsed, his tongue mapping every inch of your mouth. You could do little else but melt bonelessly against him, utterly sated and blissfully content.

After a long moment, Ulquiorra reluctantly pulled away, hissing at the sensation of his oversensitive length dragging against your soaked folds. His emerald stare held you transfixed, burning with a newfound intensity that took your breath away.

In the hazy afterglow, Ulquiorra gathered you against his chiseled form, cradling you flush against his chest. His fingers traced idle patterns along the dip of your spine as you sat entwined amid the disheveled bedding.

"Does this newfound closeness...unsettle you?" he murmured low, emerald stare glinting with undisguised curiosity. "I do not intend to make you uncomfortable with such overt affections."

He tilted your chin up with one knuckle, boring into your eyes with an intensity that stole your breath. "But it seems...incomplete to not hold you in my arms as I should."

The raw sincerity in his normally reserved tenor tugged at your heartstrings. With a small smile, you nestled deeper into his embrace, reveling in the warm, protective cocoon of his arms.

"It's not uncomfortable," you murmured, lips ghosting his marble-pale skin. "I-I...actually kind of like it."

"You would," he scoffed, fingers tracing the curve of your hip. "You always did seek comfort in the most peculiar places."

A dusting of color bloomed in your cheeks at his dry observation. You made a small noise of protest, preparing a retort, when Ulquiorra's palm flattened over the small of your back. He effectively eliminated any remaining space between your bare forms as he pulled you flush atop his chiseled torso.

The unmistakable heat of his cock stirred against your belly, forcing a trembling exhalation past your lips. Ulquiorra's stare remained impassive, but the subtle twitching at the corners of his mouth hinted at self-satisfaction.

"Do not mistaken my...indulging of this closeness as accidental," he rumbled, aquiline nose skimming along your jawline. "I am quite intentional in keeping what is mine thoroughly sated."

You shivered at the dark timbre of his promise, nails raking lightly down the pale expanses of his back. Ulquiorra hissed out an indrawn breath through gritted teeth, muscles tensing beneath your exploratory caress.

"Pleasant as this interlude has been," he muttered tautly. "Do not think for a moment that I've had my fill of you, woman."

With a deft pivot of his hips, Ulquiorra rolled you beneath him once more, body coiling with restrained power and undeniable intent. His penetrating stare pinned you unblinking as he loomed above, backlit by the moonglow slatting through the windows.

"This possession is eternal. You would be wise to understand that..." He sealed the vow with a searing, sidelong glance that branded you to your very core. "...Pet."

#bleach x reader smut #bleach x reader #bleach smut #bleach #ulquiorra x reader smut #ulquiorra smut #ulquiorra x reader #ulquiorra cifer #grimmjow x reader smut #grimmjow x reader #grimmjow smut #grimmjow jaegerjaquez

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umadosedepascal · 9 months

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P E D R O P A S C A L

O N L Y

__ FIC REQUEST OPEN __

SERIES

(Banners are here)

NEW MEXICO(PART IX)- Pedro asks you to spend his birthday together with you. You just go.

W I N N E R(PART VIII) - You couldn’t attend SAG awards but Pedro meets you late in the night to celebrate.

O U C H (PART VII) - You are at the Golden Globes and meet Pedro over there, he didn’t win unfortunately but still, he is a winner in bed.

B O A T (PART VI) - Today is your last day in Malta. Pedro will be back to work, and you also need to return to your routine. Pedro wants your last day to be wonderful, nothing like a surprise with a perfect end. The three most intense days of your life.

COME FIND ME (PART V) - Pedro promised you a weekend, but an unforeseen event changes everything. Maybe he's a fan of surprises, maybe he can find you.

72 HOURS WITH HIM (PART IV) - The shooting in Malta keeps going, all Pedro needs is a weekend off, well…he got it. Would you go meet him for only three days? Hmmm yes!

PEDRO SOLO (PART III) - The days are long and exhausting, Pedro has a huge hotel room, hot tub ... But he is missing something, could you help him?

LOSING GAME (PART II) - You meet Pedro again not just to take back your panties. He wants to play a game, who’s going to lose?

HIGH MILES CLUB (PART I) - After partying hard at Met Gala making out with you in the bathroom and later taking you to his hotel room in NY, he finds something inside his red overcoat pocket in the middle of the airport. But it doesn’t stop, more unexpected and hot things happens during his flight back home.

ONE SHOT

(Banners are here)

🔥CORONA, MEXICO - You got invited by Corona to be an extra on the new “La vida mas fina” campaign at the beach. Even if was only one single scene, maybe just 10 seconds of screen you would be more than happy because the main reason was him…Pedro.

MASTERCHEF FAIL - With a busy schedule, Pedro finds some time to spend with you. You promised him to cook his favorite food. Maybe things get out of hand and dessert comes before dinner.

PURPLE IS THE HOTTEST COLOR - After having a difficult day, Pedro meets you, no patience, no time for conversations.Pedro only has one desire in mind: you here and now, no matter if anyone will see you.

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PEDRO I M A G I N E

It’s 3 in the morning…

Hey, I’m looking at you…

What a smile…

You wearing his purple shirt…

Pedro eat pussy drawing

Pedro eat pussy part II

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Who are Santa Trindade

Gringa is on her late 30’s totally addicted to Pascal for the latest years (she doesn’t know what happened) although she’s following his work since 2019 because she is a Star Wars nerd and fell in love with a mandalorian 🤷🏻‍♀️. Her favorite Pedro boy is Javi Gutierrez because he is chubby and funny (Pedro vibes almost 100%).

What makes her wet is when Pedro: slide his finger on his lips while giggling.

Good vibes: if she had a date with Pedro she thinks she wouldn’t be able to walk the next day 🥲

——

@missyorkswhore is on her late 20’s and noticed Pedro when her uncle was watching Narcos, she saw Javier and asked him “wow, who’s that stach guy?”. A couple years later she finally got into Narcos and you know…she still want to marry Peña.

She loves when Pedro raises his eyebrow, and when he speaks Spanish [she thinks she can get wet in a fraction of seconds if he speaks like that to her in bed] ah and of course when he screams WHAT TOWN!!! as Joel.

Fave character obviously: DAVE FUCKING YORK (killer king)

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x f!reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #pedrohub #joel miller x reader #dieter bravo #joel miller #dave york x reader #dieter bravo x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #dave york #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedropascaledit #oberyn martell #pedro pascal x you

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scribespirare · 1 year

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ummm so your bio says requests are open and u were talking about alpha miguel and omega miles could u maybe write about them?

Oh hell yes!! It's been ages since I got a request this is gonna be fun >=3

"Jesus Christ can you chill for, like, two seconds?"

Miguel's gaze snaps away from the man he'd just sent running, down to Miles. His snarl relaxes by the most minuscule of fractions, which Miles takes as a good sign. But his red eyes narrow in annoyance, which Miles knows definitely is not.

"Sorry," Miguel says with zero remorse, contrition, or believability. His voice comes out all gruff and slightly slurred through the barrier of two sets of fangs: one Alphean, one spider. "But you have got to be smarter about-"

Miles flaps an errant hand at him. "Yeah, yeah, yeah my pheromones bring all the spiders to the yard, I know, we've been over this a million times-" Miguel's eyes narrow to slits, the red barely visible now, and Miles quickly tries to backtrack "-aaaand I appreciate that! I really do! You're looking out for my best interests and all that, I just, you know, can handle myself! I mean I beat y'all once and-"

Apparently done with his shit, Miguel leaps down from his work platform, performing a perfect superhero landing that normally Miles would drag him over the coals for. But today he bites his tongue. And is very glad that he does when Miguel stands and immediately grabs Miles by the nape, hauling him in close and leaning down to kiss him.

Miles melts into the embrace with a happy if a bit confused hum. The thick fingers on his neck press lightly at the pressure points there, and Miguel's thumb slides along the curve of his throat to brush his scent gland. It's almost enough to make Miles forget about Miguel's stupid Alpha posturing from moments before.

Almost.

One of the things that most of the spider-people share that Miles does not, is their second gender. Well, those of them with a second gender anyways. Boy what a shock it had been to learn that some universes don't have them.

All of that is to say though that most spider-people are Alphas, through and through.

Not Miles though. Another sign that his is a destiny that he has chosen, not one he was given. And he's proud of that, really! It's just kind of hard to navigate spider society sometimes when few people are expecting the scent of young, recently-presented Omega to waft among them. It's...caused problems.

And then there's Miguel. Huge and brooding and so fucking territorial that Miles doesn't know if he should kill or jump the Alpha. Maybe both. They haven't been together for very long, but it's long enough that Miguel is getting increasingly incensed at the various spider-people that follow Miles around anytime he visits HQ. It's equal parts hot and annoying. Like, Miles has saved the entire multi-verse. Twice. He can handle a few knothead Alphas!

But tell that to Mr. Snarls over here, still kissing the daylights out of Miles. By the time Miguel pulls back Miles is breathless and a touch lightheaded.

"This," Miles says, panting, and holds up a finger up to motion between them, "does not let you off the hook, mister."

"Cállate, pup," Miguel responds, squeezing at Miles' nape. "If you didn't want to see me be jealous, you should have come in alone. I know you're capable of sneaking around unnoticed, why do you insist on letting half the Alphas here trail after you like lovesick puppies?"

"Maybe because I already have to lie about you being my Alpha, and I don't want to have to sneak around to see you on top of that."

Miguel softens. "You know that's-"

"I know," Miles cuts in, reaching up to touch Miguel's face. And he does. Miles is only fifteen and Miguel over twice that; they know how they look from the outside. So they've kept this under the tables. No bonding, no marking, no scenting. Not until Miles is older and more prepared for the consequences. And he gets it, really, he's as eager as Miguel is to be bonded.

But Miguel growls, suddenly pissed all over again, his teeth visibly gnashing. "No, you don't! You don't get it. Watching all these Alphas flock to you, but not being able to claim you, prove that you're mine, tell them that they need to back the fuck off? It's hell, Miles. ¿Que quieres que haga? ¿Sólo mirar?"

"No!" Miles protests, but Miguel steamrolls on.

"How would you feel if you saw me surrounded by Omegas all the time? Would you want to be told that you're overreacting-"

"Collar me!" The words are out before Miles can stop them and he cringes back, eyes shut tight as if against a physical blow. But none comes, of course. Their days of violence are mostly behind them.

When he opens his eyes, Miguel is staring down at him, brow knit in confusion.

"Collar me," Miles repeats, a little unsure. When his Alpha doesn't respond Miles licks his lips and continues, calming the longer he speaks. "We can get one of those collars for unbonded Omegas, no tag, no engraving. But it'll be yours and we'll both know it. Maybe we could personalize it or something too. And it'll keep Alphas from ogling my neck. Deal?"

Up until now Miles has refused to wear a collar; he finds them primitive and old fashioned. Why the hell should he have to hide his neck? Just to appease the egos of a bunch of Alphas? Fuck that!

But now that it's not a collar meant to protect his modesty or some shit, but a symbol of a relationship? Well. The Omega in him practically preens at the idea of getting to wear a mark of ownership from Miguel.

And if the way Miguel's pupils are dilating he likes the idea too.

"Christ, pup. No sabes lo que me haces," he rumbles, all low and throaty in that way that makes Miles shiver. "Yeah, let's get you a collar. But first-"

Miguel tugs Miles close again and, with zero hesitation, sinks his teeth into Miles' throat. Miles yelps at the sudden pain but it's gone as quick as it came, Miguel's lips and tongue kissing and sucking at the same spot until Miles' knees go weak.

When Miguel decides he's done, Miles is wet and trembling from head to toe. He reaches up to touch what he knows is going to be a massive bruise very soon, "What-?"

"So you can't take the collar off once I've got it on you," Miguel says, his smirk showing off his fangs.

It takes Miles a moment to process, then his jaw drops. "You dick! We don't even have it yet, how am I supposed to go anywhere with this!?"

Miguel just laughs and tugs him close again.

#requests #anonymous #fanfiction #mine #flowerfang

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rainylana · 2 years

Text

“Yeah, baby, I’ll go with you.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

Summary: a continuation of my series ‘i’ll always take care of you’. takes place two years after the first chapter, one year after the epilogue.

Warnings: contains mentions of past sexual violence and assault, ptsd and trauma flashbacks, detailed panic attacks and anxiety habits, unprotected sex, language, heavy description of blood, reader gets her period, gagging, vomiting, self hatred and self blame.

a/n: hi everybody:) this took longer than expected but i’m very very excited for you to read, as i love this series very much and just wanted to go back and explore it. i hope you love this as much as i do! i’m very happy with the way it turned out! please share how you feel about it:) i missed you! and i hope you have a very merry christmas to those who all celebrate it!<3

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Two years later.

“I met Nancy in fifth grade when I moved here from Chicago. I had trouble making friends, but Nancy- she introduced herself to me right away, even gave me half of her rice crispy treat. I didn’t know at that age just how important she’d become to me, in fact it’s still hard to believe how much she’s helped me. I can only hope I’ve been able to return at least a fraction of what she’s given me. So, I want to raise a glass to Nancy and Jonathon, yes, I’ve not forgotten about you, and tell you both that we all love you very much. I love you very much. Congratulations, you guys.”

Your hand was raised, holding up a crystal glass at the end of the long, white table. Nancy, who was at your side, had tears going down her face, while Jonathan had a beaming smile. The people on the benches in front of you all cheered from your maid of honor speech, and you giggled when Eddie whistled at the other end of the table, a groomsman himself.

Nancy and Jonathan’s wedding was probably one of the most beautiful Hawkins had ever had. Everyone had come, and you couldn’t deny the fact you’d been extremely nervous to give your speech in-front of everyone, but Nancy deserved to hear what you wanted to say. You could never really be able to express how much she meant to you.

The wedding was held outside at a meadow, just a mile outside of town. It was littered with lavender and dandelions, even an ice sculpture. Truthfully, both Nancy and Jonathan would have been fine with having a courthouse wedding with a few friends and family, but Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler wanted to spoil their daughter, and Joyce, had chipped in almost all the money she had to help.

You admired how handsome Eddie looked in his tuxedo, hair slicked back into a neat ponytail, one of the only few occasions where he put effort into his hair. His shoes were shiny and squeaky. He even rubbed a fork on the bottom of the soles so he wouldn’t slip. Will was the best man, and the other groomsmen being Hopper, Mike, Dustin and Lucas. Robin was also a bridesmaid. Karen and Joyce, too. Little Holly was the flower girl.

White flowers and pink tulips were the flowers of choice, the cake almost seemed to be seven stories tall. Elegant couldn’t even describe how beautiful it all worked.

“Wanna dance?” Eddie flicked the rim of your champagne glass, a happy grin on his face.

You were happy the ceremony was over, everyone now able to relax and celebrate the happy moment with booze and food. Everyone drove across town to city hall, but the wedding theme had still followed them over there.

“Hmm, yes, please.” You placed down your glass, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing your body close to his. Mostly everyone was dancing now, and if they weren’t, they were engulfing themselves on the buffet and chocolate fountain. They, meaning the children and Dustin.

“My feet hurt so bad. I think I got blisters.” You groaned through a chuckle.

“Tell me about it.” He smirked in agreement. “These things are probably full of my blood.”

You smiled and looked over to your best friend, who was dancing her heart away with Jonathon in the middle of dance floor. “It’s worth it, though. She looks so beautiful.”

Eddie looked over and smiled softly. “Yeah, she does.”

You laid your head on his chest and wrapped your arms tighter around him, swaying softly to the happy tune of whatever song was playing. You had no idea what it was. The irony, warm feeling of his rings brushed along your neck, hair being pinned up with a few loose curls.

“I hope Joyce and Hopper are next.” You smiled when your eyes found them, dancing softly and gazing into each other’s eyes. They looked like they saw no one else.

Eddie chuckled and found them, too. “I’d say so.”

Then you found Dustin and Suzie. Lucas and Max. Mike and Eleven. Couples dancing, kissing and being happily in love. Weddings were stressful, sure, but you loved them. You loved being in love. You looked up to Eddie and grinned, standing up taller to peck him on the lips. “I love you.”

His hand squeezed your waist and he smiled, bringing up his other to hold your cheek. He melted his lips against yours in a sweet kiss, the taste of the chocolate fountain evident on his tongue. “You have no idea.” He replied.

•

Your curled up hair was starting to fall apart after all the clean up duty. You and Eddie, along with some of your other friends, stayed to help clean the hall when Nancy and Jonathan left for their honeymoon. It took several hours to take down all the decorations, put away the food, tables and chairs. You and Eddie were the only ones left now. You sent everyone home, assuring them you could finish by yourself, and that only left you to sweep the floor and throw away some trash.

The bottom of your feet were filthy, having disregarded your heels so your feet didn’t have to suffer during clean up. Your dress was bunched up a bit by your waist.

“You bout finished, babe?” Eddie asked, coming back inside from taking out garbage bags. His hair was also a bit more frazzled, his black suit jacket thrown over a chair, leaving him in his white button up.

“Yeah, I think so.” You half panted, placing your hands on your hips as you turned to greet him. “Get everything outside taken care of?”

“Yeah, Hopper just left.” He sniffled, wiping away some sweat. “You hungry? I could order a pizza or something.”

You rolled your head back in exhaustion, admiring how handsome he looked. “Had too much cake. I’ve got a food baby.”

He chuckled as he looked down to your belly, coming close to wrap his arms around your waist. He kissed your forehead lovingly and you tiredly laid against his chest, lazily resting your arms around him. Without your heels, your head barely came up to his chest.

“I think this is my favorite version of you.” Eddie smiled softly, lips brushing over the side of your head.

You narrowed your eyes, cheek squished against his chest. “Why? I’m dirty.”

His laughter sounded in your ear, pulling away so he could hold you out in front of him. “I like when your hair is like this. It’s cute.”

“It looks like a rats nest.” You retorted.

“And your face is all red.” He continued, holding your arms. “And you got those little lines between your eyebrows from concentrating so much.”

“Well, we have to make sure this place is cleaned otherwise we’ll piss off the city council- are you sure it looks alright?” You went to turn away but he grabbed your jaw, turning you to give you a gentle kiss.

“You look pretty handsome, yourself.” You relaxed against his lips. “Class suits you.”

He smirked, a breath hitting your cupid’s bow. “That right?” His forehead connected to yours, his hand reaching around your waist to push you against him. He ducked down to kiss you fully, bodies melting together in the empty room.

Your tummy fluttered as his hands roamed at your sides, deep kisses being briefly broken apart for a breath of air. “You wanna?” He husked, smirking against your neck.

“Here?” You burned, arching your back slightly. “Don’t you think- are there cameras?” You looked up to the ceiling, looking between corners.

He held you up as he kissed on the exposed skin of your chest, the plump skin of your breasts that shown was caressed by his tongue.

“I don’t see any.” He murmured seductively.

“You didn’t even look.” You pretended to scold him, but you inhaled a sharp gasp as he bit your skin softly. “You’re awful. Yes, I wanna.”

You pulled his face so you could kiss him, and he picked you up by your thighs to put you against the wall. You throbbed for him as he pressed himself against you, your skin shining with a lustful glow that made his heart erratically beat. Your hands roamed his chest, the blades of his back, anything to get him closer to you. Anything to feel good. He always made you feel good, and he always took care of you.

There was a time where you thought you’d never be able to experience that again. You never thought you’d be able to be intimate with Eddie like this. You never thought you’d be able to be touched, caressed and pleasured without second guessing yourself or who you were with.

You never would have said it then, but now, after two years from your assault, you couldn’t deny the fact that you found some benefit from the situation. You had to if you were going to live with it. If there was anything you learned from that night, it changed the way you saw the world, and not in a bad way. It made you smarter, careful. It made you learn things about yourself, who you wanted to be. It was a chapter in your life that had come and gone. That’s how you dealt with it. When ptsd and trauma flashbacks came, you dealt with it like you’d learned how to. Sometimes they were nothing, sometimes you nearly went to the hospital, but you dealt with it either way, and never alone.

“You want this, baby?” He pulled the straps of your dress down to free your breasts, and he wrapped his warm lips around your left nipple.

“Yes.” You tangled your hand in his hair, shamelessly rocking your hips up to his. “I need you so bad.”

He kissed and suckled on each breast, taking his sweet time, moving down the valley between them as best as he could with your dress still in the way. When he’d freed himself from his pants, rubbing himself up your slick, you buried your face in his shoulder and tightened your arms around his body. “Tell me, sweetheart.” He kissed your collarbone, teasing you, but he didn’t ever not ask that question.

“Yes, yes, yes.” You chanted, almost drunkenly, eyes already glossing over. “Fuck me, Eddie.”

He moved your panties to the side, sliding his cock inside of you slowly, burying his face in your chest. It was the burning stretch that made you whimper, but it just felt so, so good. It was slow at first, it usually always was. Eddie rocked into you a few times, grunting lowly to give you time. He always gave you time. The burn started to go away, and you leaned back to connect your lips passionately, silently telling him you were ready.

Your mouths were everywhere, sloppy and needy, the taste of one another driving you mad. You whimpered desperately into his mouth when he finally gave a sharper, more fluent thrust that moved you up the wall. Your response made him do it again, and again, and again, until he was at a pace that had you crying into his shoulder again. Skin slapped quickly, stomachs tightened and your teeth dug into his shoulder that made him groan.

Sometimes the only thing you could ever really do during sex was cry. Sometimes it just felt too good and that was all you could do. Eddie never questioned it, not anymore.

He could feel you clenching around him, and he gave one more thrust before he reached his orgasm, forcing a sob from your throat as your legs trembled in his sore arms. Your mouth was agape, tears rolling down your face as you panted, gulping and whimpering sounds squeaking their way out of you. Eddie huffed loudly, readjusting his hold on you with a fuzzy head.

“Thank you.” You choked, eyes fluttering closed, your body rocking with pleasure.

Eddie had assured you countless times you didn’t have to thank him for sex, and you knew you didn’t. You never meant to say it really when you did, so he learned to just accept it.

“Let’s go home.” He kissed your cheek.

•

Your panic attacks were easy to maintain and they had been for awhile. You’d gotten extremely well at mastering them, keeping them from overwhelming you too badly. It hadn’t always been that way, definitely not. But in the course of the last six to eight months, you’d impressed even yourself with your skill.

You’d done certain techniques, some worked and some didn’t. Journaling didn’t help shit. You thought it was boring. Going for walked helps sometimes, only if it wasn’t too hot. Deep breathing helped a lot, especially if you could hold on to Eddie’s hands or his shoulders. And sticking your face in a bowl of ice water always did the trick.

In the beginning he encouraged you to seek out for additional help, help that he knew he couldn’t give you. Sure, he was always there to listen and to be at every beck and call, but he’d never be able to understand what you went through. You saw a women’s support group almost two times a week back then, and now it was just once a month.

The worst panic attack you’d had, which haunted you and Eddie both, was last year. Eddie had to take you to the hospital, and even he at the time thought your fear was something more than panic, that’s how bad it was, like something was actually wrong. In these two years you’d been to the emergency room twelve times.

You hadn’t had one like that in a while, or really any. They were small, here and there. So when your eyes cracked open, trying to squint in the dark so you could see the time, you knew something was off, because you were past the point of waking up in the middle of the night. You were anxious was the first thing you realized. Your chest felt warm and your heart was beating more quickly than it should.

Great.

But it was okay. You’d be fine. You knew it would pass if you gave it time. You turned to lay on your back so you could breath easier, glancing over at Eddie in the dark who was sound asleep. You closed your eyes and inhaled through your nose, counting to five, held it for 5, then let go. You repeated it for awhile, but your body felt oddly uncomfortable besides just feeling too warm.

You laid there and breathed for almost twenty minutes before you decided you needed a glass of water. Shuffling through blankets, you sat up and lifted the comforter off your sweaty body, and even in the dark you could see the substance that was on the sheets beneath you. Your heart leapt in your throat and you turned to switch on the lamp by your bedside.

You’d gotten your period. Blood was bright and crimson on the white sheet, all over your thighs and ruining the pair of blue sleep shorts you were in. This wasn’t a big deal in itself. You’d gotten your period many times in the night, but your body didn’t seem prepared for it this time. Maybe it was the fact you were already trying to fight off an anxiety attack, who knows, but your eyes tripled in size and you gasped.

Eddie was awake immediately.

“Y/n?” He said through sleepy, alarmed eyes. “Y/n- hey, what’s the matter? What happened?”

Your anxiety immediately seized up to pure panic. The blood was just too much. It was everywhere. Not really, but to you, right now, it did. You started gasping, your throat bopping noisily as your hands shook above your legs.

Eddie’s eyes widened when he saw the blood, grabbing your shoulders in confusion. “Hey, hey- honey, look at me.” He turned your face toward him, more like pried it away from your lap.

“Shit- Eddie, I’m sorry, I- I got my period, I’m sorry.” You rushed, voice shaking and unsteady. You couldn’t keep your focus on him. You kept staring at your legs that were also shaking now.

“Baby, hey, it’s alright.” He cooed, scooting closer to you to wrap his arm around your back. “You don’t need to get upset. It’s not your fault, y/n, just take a breath, alright?”

You nodded, lifting your legs to try and avoid getting more blood on the blankets.

“Okay, uh- let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” He looked your face over, sitting up more to grab your elbow. “That okay?”

There was no reason to have a panic attack over this. There was no reason to breathing so irrationally like you were doing. Eddie helped you stand, giving your shoulder a squeeze as he turned to the dresser where you kept your clothes. You tried to keep looking at him, but your eyes drifted back down to your legs. Your hands were vibrating at your sides, your chest continued to burn. You watched as a small bead of blood rolled down to your knee. Then it hit you.

You froze, your stomach flipping upside down. God, there’d been so much blood on you that night. You bled for days. You’d had to throw out your clothes so Eddie wouldn’t see.

“Eddie,” You cried, bile resting at the back of your throat, eyes wide with terror. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie-”

“What, what, y/n-” He grabbed your face, throwing down your clothes he’d gathered when you started completely panicking.

“Get it off me!” You screeched, sobbing as you looked down to your legs. “Please, please, please!” You begged him desperately through violent cries and a thrashing body.

He quickly reacted and practically dragged you to the bathroom, flipping on the light and throwing the shower curtain open. He turned on the cold water and grabbed your waist, putting both you and him under the freezing cold water.

You didn’t react to the water that hit you in the face, or Eddie dropping to his knees to grab hold of your legs. You went into a frenzy. You bent your body over his head, hand smacking against the shower wall to brace your weight. Your body was overcome with a disgusting feeling of violation, your skin buzzed with ick and you heaved above him. The nausea in your stomach turned into a burn, an ache that wasn’t even really there, only in your head, but that was real enough for you. You screamed and grabbed your stomach with your other hand, eyes clamped shut and cold water making your clothes heavy, Eddie’s too.

Fear surged through your body, although fear never quite seemed to sum up the feeling, and your breath came too quickly. You weren’t getting in any air. Your skin buzzed and your throat was raw. You were practically screaming, hovering over Eddie. And then you gagged, nearly tripping over him as you gripped his shoulder, a mixture of water and stomach acid barely dribbling out of your lips and onto the shower floor.

All the while, Eddie’s hands were furiously trying to get the blood of your skin, the water turning a crimson red. His hair was wet and stuck on his face, black sweatpants now extremely heavy. Your clothes were stained but the water helped the brightened tone of it. He didn’t even look at you. If he did, he’d be lost. He had to fix what was making you panic to get you to calm down. His ears were thumping from how loud you were, sobs and shrieks making his bones rattle. Then he heard the tail tell sound of you throwing up.

When the water was no longer red, he finally breathed. “Y/n.” He said firmly, standing quickly on his own unsteady legs to catch your flaying arms. “It’s gone, baby, it’s gone. Look, look, it’s gone.” He grabbed your face to get you out of your trance, guiding you to look down. “Take a breath. Breathe. Breathe.” He pulled you to his chest, not even really sure if you were registering what he was saying.

And you didn’t, but within a few more minutes of hysterics, you pushed your face away from his chest to look down to your thighs. They were clear and the blood was gone. The sounds of your panic were quieting down and your arms finally locked around Eddie’s like his were on you. You could hear how loud his heartbeat was against your ear, your body shaking, and not just from previous anxiety.

The cold water was still beating down on you, Eddie shushing and rocking you gently all the while. He kissed and rubbed the back of your head, caressing your neck and your temple, doing everything he could to make sure you were grounded and wouldn’t pass out. You had before. But he could feel your deep, shaken breaths against his own, and he knew you were alright now.

You stood there until you both were shaking from the freezing water, but it brought a sense of relief that you didn’t want to leave. Your mind always felt empty after attacks like these, but it had been so long since you’d had such a bad one. Why hadn’t you been able to brush this one off? Why did it bother you so much? Your period had never triggered this kind of response from you? You couldn’t be back tracking your progress.

Everything seemed like a foggy dream now. The assault was not front and center anymore, neither was the image of your bloody and bruised thighs. You were okay now, but you fucking hated the fact you still had to deal with these. They were just so damn scary, and you sure as shit knew they scared the hell out of Eddie.

Eddie reached behind him to turn to water off, carefully guiding your steps over the edge of the tub so you wouldn’t slip. You both were shivering, and he grabbed a towel to wrap around your shoulders. “Get you some clothes, huh?” He said softly, tapping your chin as he guided you out of the bathroom.

He picked up the clothes he’d had before and sat them on the bed next to you where you’d sat down, trying your best to get off your sopping wet clothes. He gently grabbed your arms and tapped them so you’d lift them up, and he peeled your shirt over your head, helping you take down your sleep shorts and ruined panties. He threw them in the corner of the room.

You attempted to dry yourself but your limbs were too shaky, so he took the towel and crouched in front of you, taking your legs in his lap so he could dry you. You let him. He thought you were going to fall asleep because you looked so out of it, but it wasn’t nothing he’d seen before. He knew you needed to have time before you could talk about it.

Once you were dry and changed, Eddie did the same to himself, keeping his eye on your sunken form. You were left in a state of deep sorrow, an aching guilt that always crept up in you after a panic attack. Once Eddie started drying his hair, you got off the bed and walked out of the room without him noticing. You just needed a moment to yourself. Just a minute.

You curled yourself up on the couch and pulled your legs close to your body. You couldn’t do anything else but cry. You called these little moments pity parties, the tremors of a meltdown that you never could surpass. You buried your face in the material of the couch, weeping softly.

When Eddie followed you out there, his first instinct was always to go to you, always, but he had to give you a minute to cry. He was sure that over the years his jet black hair had turned a few pieces grey. He ever actually checked, but he could imagine he’d get the salt n’ pepper look before thirty. He always felt guilty for his broken heart over you, because he knew it didn’t hold a candle to what you’d been through or how you felt. When he decided you’d cried alone enough, he went to you.

He sat on the edge, barely having any room, and laid his torso atop of yours, his chest against your back to hold you as best as he could. He kissed your shoulder repeatedly, his fingers brushing away your wet hair comfortingly. “I’m sorry.” You cried, tears dropping down your face.

“No, no,” He whispered, barely audibly as he kissed your cheek. “It’s alright, baby.”

You cried for several more minutes, curled up on the couch with him hovering over you. He gently rubbed your back and gave your torso kisses and little nose rubs, hoping to ease your sorrow in anyway.

“I wasn’t going to go to my meeting tomorrow.” Your voice cracked, staring off into the space of nothing.

Eddie said nothing, perching his chin on your shoulder blade so you could talk. He knew you were ready.

“I thought- I thought I didn’t need to.” You admitted, a flame growing to your face that he didn’t miss. “But when I saw the blood I- all I could think about was..was when,” Your voice broke and your eyes glazed back over again when you felt Eddie tense.

“It’s been so long since I had one that bad. I thought maybe I was done.” You sniffled, silent tears rolling down your face. “I just…I don’t know, it just..I- don’t,”

“Shh, shh,” He petted your head, lifting slightly off you. “You don’t need to rush. I’m here, take your time.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face in the couch, whining out a little cry mixed with groans, feeling frustrated with yourself.

“I’m so stupid.”

“Stop that.” Eddie said sternly, squeezing your arm. “Don’t say that. You’re not stupid.”

You didn’t answer him, you just cried. You’d never really felt so much self hatred after a panic attack before, but right now, you were very aggravated with yourself, for your body to still be so affected for something that happened so long ago. You were tired of having these attacks in the middle of the night, keeping Eddie up and worrying him to death, begging him to take you to the hospital even though you knew deep down that you weren’t dying.

“You know you have to talk to me, baby.” He said softly, rubbing your back. “You gotta tell me what you’re feeling.”

You knew that, but you also knew he wouldn’t want to hear you say the things you felt, right now. Either way, it wasn’t fair.

“I’m mad.” You croaked.

“Mad?”

You nodded, still pressed into the cushion of the couch.

“Why?” His fingers traced your spine.

“Me.” You cried. “I hate myself.”

You felt his hand stop, his gaze sharpening on you. “Why?”

“Because,” You hiccuped.

“Because, why?”

You whined through tears and forced yourself up, your hand digging a fist into the couch. “Because I’m a fucking mess!” You scoffed.

“I act like I’m fucking unstable.” You whimpered, wiping at your face. Eddie stared at you, holding his palm on your lower back.

“Y/n-” He swallowed.

“I shouldn’t be doing this anymore!” You started sobbing again, looking at the floor, anywhere but his face. “I can’t- my entire life is just- just focused on what happened and it’s so humiliating!” You started to pull on your shirt and he took his hand away from your back, knowing you didn’t want to be touched.

“I’m tired of freaking out and I’m tired of meetings! I’m tired of- of everyone saying how proud they are of me and that I’m strong. I’m not fucking strong, look at me, I’m a fucking wreck all the time!” You wailed, snot dripping down your nose as your head hung low.

“It’s so embarrassing, I shouldn’t be doing this shit a-anymore.” You bent over to press your elbows into your knees, burying your face in your hands. “I don’t want to do it anymore.”

Eddie never knew what to say when you said things like this. He could help you with anything and everything else, but hearing you talk to negatively about yourself made him sad. He had to force back tears that glazed over his eyes, taking a shallow breath.

“Sweetheart,” He refrained from scooting closer to you. “What’s got you saying this stuff, huh? You’ve not said anything like this before.”

Your body shook from your tears. You couldn’t possibly imagine that you had anymore to cry, but they kept on coming. “It was my fault.”

Eddie paled at your remark. “Y/n. Stop it.”

“It was.” Your chest heaved as you balled into your hands, hair still dripping wet. “It was my own fault and I- my dress..my d-”

“Hey,” He grabbed your shoulders and made you face him, eyes focused and jaw clenched. “What are you saying, huh? That you asked for it?”

Your sobs were loud in his face, your skin red and blotchy, snot dripping over your cupid’s bow. “It should’ve been- longer.”

This wasn’t the first time you’d said something like this before, but it never was easier for him to hear or for you to say.

“What about Nancy then?” He grabbed your face to hold you upright. “What about her dress? Would she have asked for it if she’d been raped instead?” He said sternly, almost harsh, because it was vital to him that you understood.

“Answer me, y/n.” He shook you lightly. “Would she have deserved it?”

You shook your head, voice quivering and full of emotion. “No.”

“No, she wouldn’t, and neither did you.” His eyes glazed over. “You didn’t fucking deserve that and you didn’t fucking ask for it, okay? You can’t think shit like that, understand? You just can’t.”

You grabbed his thick wrist and squeezed. “Then why did It happen?”

He touched his forehead against yours, sighing deeply. “I wish I knew, honey. I’m so, so sorry. I wish you could know just how sorry I am, but baby, you gotta believe me when I say that I’m not going anywhere, alright? You know I’m not. You don’t need to be embarrassed around me. There’s nothing you ever need to be embarrassed about, alright?” His lips ghosted over mouth, nose edging yours.

“That’s what you do when you love someone. You take care of them, right? It’s what we do.” His heart ached at your broken face, your tears now slowing and sobs quieting.

You caught your breath, gulping and swallowing loud, sniffling and blinking wet eyelashes as you tried to calm yourself. You were growing exhausted, your body too tired to keep itself so worked up. “I just wished it didn’t happen.” You said softly. “It’s..it’s hard to like who I am now.”

He kept blinking away his tears. He always had his breakdowns in private. “Well, I like you.” He gave you a delicate smile.

He took his thumb and swiped at your tears, fixing your wild hair and sweeping it from your face. He wiped your nose with his sleeve. “We do it one day at a time remember? Just because tonight was bad doesn’t mean tomorrow has to be.”

“I know.” You muttered, staring at his chest while he stared at you. “I wish you knew how much I love you. Loving you is the only thing that’s ever felt stronger than..than him. You keep me sane when everything else around me is insane.”

Him. Him.

Eddie gulped, grabbing your waist. “Come here.” He pulled you into his chest, leaning back to rest against the arm of the couch. He wrapped his arms tight around you and you laid your cheek against his chest.

“Baby, it’s okay to not be okay all the time.” He said after a moment, his face pressed in your hair. “It’s not all going to go away.”

You didn’t say anything. You knew he was right.

“And that’s nothing to be ashamed of, you hear me?” He continued, your legs between his. “When there’s a bad day we work through it, don’t we? Don’t we always get through it?”

You nodded slowly, sniffly. “Yeah.”

“There’s no reason to hate yourself, y/n. I wish you could see yourself how I see you.” His palms were pressed against your back, cheek pressed against the side of your head. You could feel how erratic his heartbeat still was.

You both sat in silence for awhile, still allowing your body to calm down. Your mind kept replaying how worked up you’d gotten all because you’d gotten your period. That just didn’t make any sense. It had never triggered you before. You couldn’t remember what had caused your last panic attack.

“I just don’t understand why it still bothers me.” You said after a moment, voice drained and exhausted.

Eddie’s head leaned against the arm of the couch, still holding you close with his legs wrapped around yours. “Y/n,” He sighed heavily. “You always..”

“Always what?” You peaked up at him.

He swallowed and met your eyes. “You always downplay what happened and- and you just..you just can’t rush healing from that, honey.” He said carefully, not wanting to push your buttons, but he said only truth.

“When you’re talking about..what happened you.., well you always tell me ‘it’s okay, eddie’,” He rested his hand at the base of your neck.

“And it’s not okay.” He squinted his eyes. “What happened is not okay, but you are, y/n. You’re okay and you’re alive and you make me so damn proud, you know it?” He cupped your cheek, pressing his forehead to yours again.

“No matter what happens, if things get bad, nothing will change between you and I. Okay?” His breath blew against your lips, a salty tear falling down your cheek. You nodded, gulping, and he kissed the corner of your mouth.

“Will you go to my meeting with me tomorrow?” Your voice broke. If you hadn’t been so out of it, you would have seen the tear that fell from his eye.

“Yeah, baby, I’ll go with you.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanons #eddie x you #eddie x y/n #i’m always going to take care of you #eddie munson series #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic

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tiny-wooden-robot-fics · 3 months

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Magnolia - Chapter Five

Rating: Explicit Media: Jujutsu Kaisen Pairing(s): Geto Suguru x Original Female Character, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru x Original Female Character Additional tags: Vampire AU, Dark Themes, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Depression, Loneliness, Eventual Smut, Polyamory, Slow Burn

A/N: More tags will be added as chapters are updated. Please be mindful of the tags and warnings at the beginning of each chapter, as they will tell you what you need to know about the content within.

Minors, DNI.

Summary:

When she hears him coming, she looks up at him. “Oh,” she says softly. “Were you looking for me?”

“Kind of but not really,” he answers, settling himself cross-legged beside her. “You okay?”

“I guess,” she murmurs with a shrug, looking down at her lap. Her wrists are still bandaged, the soft white fabric covering the cuts that are still healing. “I don’t know.”

Suguru knows that trying to force her to talk won’t do him any good, and so he aims to let her know that he is a safe space if she wants to talk. “I’ve been told I’m a good listener,” he grins at her. “And whatever secrets you have are safe with me.”

“You won’t tell Satoru?” She peers over at him.

“Why would I?” He looks away from her. “He barely talks to me these days anyway.”

Chapter Navigation 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

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Chapter Warnings: Suggestive (implied/referenced phone sex), Gojo Satoru is his own warning

Chapter Five: Would I Be Whole?

I could suffice for Him, I knew-- He-- could suffice for Me Yet Hesitating Fractions - Both Surveyed Infinity “Would I be Whole” He sudden broached My syllable rebelled-- ‘Twas face to face with Nature - forced ‘Twas face to face with God -Emily Dickinson, I could suffice for him, I knew (excerpt)

“When are you coming back?”

It’s a little absurd, he knows, to ask the question right now. At Satoru’s coaxing he’s made a mess of himself, his chest and abdomen covered in a thin sheen of sweat and sticky little rivulets of his own cum. Thousands of miles away, Satoru lounges in a similar disheveled state, modern technology connecting them through a seven-inch screen.

“Dunno,” Satoru replies noncommittally with a shrug. “Is this you asking me to?”

“This is me telling you that I miss you, and that it would be nice to see you in person instead of through a screen,” he sighs. “I thought that would mean something, but I guess it doesn’t.”

“But modern technology is amazing though, right?” Satoru grins at him. “Even though we’re on opposite sides of the world, it feels like we’re in the same room.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Suguru murmurs, reaching for his discarded t-shirt. He uses it to wipe the mess off of his chest and belly. “It feels like I’m video chatting with you because we’re thousands of miles apart. Which is exactly what we’re doing. It feels like you’re not here, so I’m jerking myself off and trying to pretend it feels like your hand. Which is exactly what I’m doing.”

“Ok, ok, don’t whine,” Satoru complains, sounding more like he’s the one whining. “What’s gotten into you? You’ve never made a fuss about me being gone before.”

“You’ve never been gone this long before,” Suguru points out. He pauses. “And you never used to stay there that long.”

“Hmm… I see your point,” Satoru concedes. “But it’s wintertime already where you are, and you know I hate how cold it gets up there.” Even through the small screen, Suguru can see that he’s pouting. “Can I at least wait until summer?”

Where you are, Satoru has said, as though the house isn’t his home, too.

This conversation is only a variation of a conversation they’ve had dozens of times before. Suguru is suddenly weary of it and all the feelings that come with it, and he doesn’t feel like arguing with Satoru anymore. “Do what you want,” he mutters finally, looking away from the screen.

“C’mon… don’t be like that.”

Suguru ignores him.

“Suguruuuuuu.”

“What.”

“How’s your pet?” Sensing he’s already on thin ice, Satoru clears his throat and amends his question. “Err… I mean, how’s your human?”

“Why are you asking? It’s not like you care.”

“But I do,” Satoru protests. “Just because I’m not fond of humans in general, it doesn’t mean I don’t care about this one. She was interesting enough to catch your eye… That must mean she’s special.”

He can hear what’s not being said just as clearly as what is: Even with your well-known soft spot for humans, you’ve only ever taken in two others. What makes this one different?

“Special?” He repeats thoughtfully. “Maybe.” He pauses. “To be honest, I do feel a connection with her that I haven’t felt with anybody in a long time. It’s more than just wanting to protect her or take care of her. I wonder if it’s because she and I are alike in a lot of ways.”

“Oh?” Satoru’s eyes aren’t on the phone; he’s moved into the bathroom of his apartment and is cleaning himself off. Suguru is treated to the sight of the light fixture on the ceiling of said bathroom. “How so?”

“Go take a shower,” he answers, sidestepping the question. “I’ll call you back later.”

“Hai, hai.”

He disconnects the call, tossing his phone onto the nightstand and wandering into his bathroom to pursue his own shower.

He finds her exactly where he’s expecting to find her: under the magnolia tree in the backyard. She’d asked him about the magnolias in the vase the night he’d brought her to the house, and she’d seemed pleased when he’d taken her out back so she could see for herself where the blossoms are born. She has since claimed that spot for her own, often bundling up in one of his hoodies to keep the winter chill at bay, spending hours beneath the branches reading or journaling.

She’s currently sitting cross-legged on a blanket with her back against the tree’s massive trunk, a tray of tea and snacks next to her and one of his books lying beside it. She isn’t reading. She’s simply staring off at something in the distance that he can’t see.

When she hears him coming, she looks up at him. “Oh,” she says softly. “Were you looking for me?”

“Kind of but not really,” he answers, settling himself cross-legged beside her. “You okay?”

“I guess,” she murmurs with a shrug, looking down at her lap. Her wrists are still bandaged, the soft white fabric covering the cuts that are still healing. “I don’t know.”

“You won’t tell Satoru?” She peers over at him.

“Why would I?” He looks away from her. “He barely talks to me these days anyway.”

She feels bad for having brought it up. She knows that there is some rift between Suguru and the husband who lives on the other side of the world. She doesn’t know what the source of the rift is, but she can see how it deeply affects this man who has taken her in. “I’m sor---”

“Remember what I said? There’s no need to apologize for things that aren’t your fault.”

Instinctively, she opens her mouth to apologize again. She bites it back quickly and says instead, “Okay.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes.

“I don’t really know what to do,” she confesses quietly, breaking the silence. “I… I guess I spent so much time planning for when I was dead that I… I never considered what my life would look like if I didn’t die the way I’d planned to.” She reaches out, plucking a few blades of grass and letting them flutter back to the ground. “I’d quit my job. The place I’d been living in for the past five years was a fully-furnished, month-to-month rental. I didn’t own much. I’ve still got a car,” she says, as if suddenly remembering its existence. “That is, if it hasn’t been stolen from where I left it.”

“What about the people in your life?” He asks. “Wouldn’t someone be looking for you by now?”

“I don’t really have close friends anymore,” she admits. “It’s not that there weren’t people in my life. I just… Well, I guess I let myself lose touch with the ones I’d been close to in the past, and I kept any new people I’d meet at arms’ length. It felt better that way, you know? You can’t disappoint people if they don’t have expectations for you.”

He senses them again, those feelings that had been radiating off of her when he’d found her that first day: loneliness, sadness, regret. “What about your family?”

She visibly flinches at the word family. “I’ve been estranged from my family for years now,” she tells him. “They don’t even know where I live. No one’s cared to track me down, so I’m assuming they’re fine with the distance.”

Suguru wants to inquire further about it, but he senses that to do so would be a little like sticking a hot poker into an open wound. After all, they are two of a kind, and though it’s been decades since he became estranged from the people he once called family, the wounds are still there.

“Well,” he says, “you can stay here as long as you like, you know.”

“Without a job?” She shakes her head. “No way would I feel comfortable mooching off of you without contributing something.”

“You aren’t mooching,” Suguru shrugs. “If you want a job, get one. If you don’t, don’t.”

It puzzles her, his laid-back attitude about it. “Yeah, but… groceries cost money. So do water and electricity. Once upon a time, I owned a home. I know those things aren’t free. Plus, these clothes---” She motions to what she’s wearing - another one of his hoodies and a pair of his sweatpants. “I should have my own clothes so I can stop stealing yours.”

“I like you in my clothes,” he teases her. “It’s cute, how you’re drowning in them.”

She isn’t sure why it makes her face go hot, but she likes the fluttery feeling his words evoke in the pit of her stomach. “Don’t tell me that,” she mumbles. “You might never get these back.”

“You say that like it’s a problem.” Suguru shrugs again, resting his back against the trunk of the magnolia tree and closing his eyes. “Lia, I’ve been alive for a long time. I wasn’t born into wealth the way Satoru was, but I’ve been exceptionally smart with what I’ve made. It’s one of the benefits of having a long life - you’ve got the time to see returns on all kinds of investments.”

He cracks an eye open to look at her. “I don’t need money. If you stay here, neither will you. If working gives you a sense of fulfillment, I won’t stop you… but I think it would be nice - at least for a while - if you could enjoy your life without needing to.”

She doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Besides,” he goes on, remembering Satoru’s words to him, “Your company is worth more to me than any amount of money you could ever give me.”

There it is again: the fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach. Butterflies, she remembers.

When was the last time someone gave me butterflies?

Chapter Navigation 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Chapter Six: Coming Soon

#tinywoodenrobotfics #JJK #Jujutsu Kaisen #JJK fanfic #JJK fic #Geto Suguru #Gojo Satoru #black oc

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fishmech · 3 months

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It's just like, damn man communication and getting info cost so much around 2000.

You wanna look up some information on the phone so you can call someone that isn't in your phone book? That's like $4 in modern money.

You wanna call your aunt who lives a couple of states away and you're not paying the extra monthly landline cost for unlimited long distance? $15 in modern money for a 10 minute call in daytime hours, still like $3 nights and weekends, and these are both like "you got a pretty good deal" cases. Worse for most people.

OK so you just want to call your buddy who moved like 25 miles away? Maybe it's free cuz you lucked into still being in the same local call zone, but maybe you're still paying $3 in modern money for a 10 minute conversation because you managed to hit through two long distance zones. Especially if you're on opposite sides of a metro area or something. And if he had a cell phone you were calling, it might mean you paid even more because it registered as a further call.

But that's landline, let's say you were going cell. You might be paying the equivalent of $50 a month in modern money for 120 minutes of call time and no included texting. This service would likely charge you extra for "roaming", that is being out of your designated home calling area, as well as exceeding 120 minutes of talk time (and you would be billed a full minute minimum for any call that connected, mind), and texting once might be 75¢ in modern money on a cheaper provider, as much as $2 modern on others. Your excess call minutes might cost between 50¢ and $3 in modern money per minute and roaming calls would cost similar amounts even when you were within your plan. And on such a plan there was no cell data service so it would be an addon around $5 a month in modern money to have it at all - and prices of between 35¢ up to $5 in modern money per kilobyte transferred. Even if you were using strictly plain text that piled up quick.

You could of course move up to significantly more expensive plans per month in fixed costs to have much bigger pools of call minutes, freedom from roaming charges texts, and data. And to have significantly cheaper per-unit overage charges if you exceeded those. But that would quickly take your bill beyond $100, even $200 a month in modern money for a single line.

And of course if you wanted a couple songs from favorite singer? You ain't streaming it on a cheap monthly plan or likely even paying individually: your ass is paying nearly $38 in modern money for the whole album on CD, maybe $23 in modern money if you got a good sale price. And the artists still got a fraction of a penny off it cuz music royalties have been fucked forever. (of course you could pirate it probably... If you had internet service, if it was fast enough, if you could afford it for generally $36 a month in modern money for slow dialup, often much more if you had broadband available at all)

You wanna watch TV shows? Well like now you could watch the over the air stations for free. With tons of ads on the non-public stations ofc. But this is generally pre digital so there's much fewer stations on the air.

Or you could pay around $85 modern a month to get a pretty decent cable or satellite package and well you know, hope the time the shows you like line up with your schedule and of course it's full of ads too. Maybe you will setup a vcr or DVD recorder to catch what you couldn't be around for, and if you're not willing to wipe your old recording then you're going to need to drop serious cash to have fresh tapes and rewritable DVDs to keep that stuff around.

You want the higher end cable/satellite stuff? Well HBO alone back then was like $28 in modern money for a month on top of the rest of your bill - and most other similar no-ads premium channels were similar.

And let's not forget that this was still a time where getting official copies of shows on any kind of media often just Didn't Happen. Or they'd do it but they'd only put out random single episodes, maybe one full season on a multi season show. You might easily pay $26 in modern money for two half hour episodes or one full hour episode on a tape or DVD. Maybe you'd get lucky and instead be buying a whole season set for $75 in modern money, admittedly a much cheaper price per episode. Otherwise though, it's record it yourself in often pretty bad quality or trading and copying recordings from other people who liked that thing, if you got in touch with any.

And on-demand cable/satellite was just getting started and often required upgrading to a higher package, including paying more to rent a higher end TV box, with miniscule libraries. And the pay per view costs were often like $5 modern to watch a single movie squished to fit your TV, sometimes up to $35 modern for "new releases". Similarly, typical rental store costs were in the ball park of $7.50 to $30 in modern money per item, depending on overnight versus all week and sometimes old release vs new release. That shit added up quick! And Late fees could easily double up or triple up in just a few days.

And of course newspapers and magazines and books all cost money. We generally expect most of these to have some at least limited amount of free access on demand today, whether it's the free few articles a month before the paywall or getting free access digitally through your library. But of course back then, that's no such thing. A lot of online versions of publications were strict pay only, others only posted summaries for free, and that's if you were even online. It may not sound so bad to shell out 65¢ to $2 in modern money for a newspaper issue, or $4-$15 in modern money an issue for various magazines, but you'd be buying them pretty often if you wanted to keep up with things in more detail than they got into on TV. Even if you subscribe and get that discount for everything in a year, that's like maybe $90 a year in modern money for a major city paper, or $70 to $150 in modern money for a magazine depending on its frequency and size and content.

Shits just so fucking easy and cheap these days for real. You want to call someone you don't think about distance charges or roaming, you just fucking call. If you're calling overseas you probably use some app or program on a computer to call for free. A text message does not cost more than sending actual mail, it's nothing. Even all those stupid streaming services, which I don't use personally, you can have like 5 of those damn things, have way more to watch for less than cable back then, let alone modern cable prices, and have somewhat more reliability in what will be available next month!

Even when you're stuck on something like a strict budget, using prepaid cell service with blocks of minutes now, like some Tracfone "I only can afford $15 a month" stuff? It's like shlt at least that's 500 minutes/texts/megabytes of data. Like you're still getting screwed but it's much less so than what you got for that 10 or 20 or 25 years ago, and a lot more places have wifi you can use to stretch your data usage out.

#Old internet #Old phone #communication

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ratcatcher0325 · 1 year

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A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #31)

Chapter #31. ... Something Wicked this way comes... Or so Alexander thinks. Who is at Nat's door?

So this is by far my longest chapter yet! I guess that makes up for how long it took me to write and edit it? Maybe? Anyway thanks for continuing to read!! I love and appreciate you all!

Previous: Chapter #30

Next: Chapter #32

Word Count: 10,045 Read Time: Approx. 60+ mins

CW: adult language

Tag list: @gatlily @patrocolus3 @beautifulunknowntrash @titan-god-420 @andraimeide @themarlo @cup-o-chai @lucentbliss @raccoontoaster @tolsizedlove @not-a-space-alien @thegodmother007 @honey-olive @bittykimmy13 @aceouttatime @imvenusasaboy @liminaldaze @windshield-patent @joxter-coded @rosella35 @narrans @rubeau-art @littlescaryinternetguy @jae-from-discord @kitn-underfoot @secretly-small @writing-forever @iinogongju @itsgothgirlthyme @make-me-giant @reborrowing @whatthisfemsheplikes @soapysoap69 @tinystrawberryshifter @thetinylittlespider @bigboicol-theflamingcol @certainwizardlady

Btw, DM me if you wanna be added to the tag list!

___________________________________

A Fraction of Justice

Chapter #31: The Pricking of Thumbs... and Eyes

[Alexander’s POV]

I strained to listen through the bedroom door, thicker than I measured shoulder to shoulder, through walls of drywall and insulation, through distance. While it was only a few dozen steps for the human who’d just told me to hide, it may as well have been the better part of a mile for me.

Damn my little frame!

My throat tightened as my spinal column was washed with adrenaline. What was happening out there? Was she okay? What was my best course of action? On the desktop I had the advantage of some height, sure, but I was also a sitting duck, with no chance to outrun a pair of malicious human hands if it were to come down to that. Did I risk clamoring to the floor? Or did that just guarantee my doom, underfoot? Down there, I’d have more places to hide out of sight before springing into action with this makeshift weapon I currently hefted under my arm. If push came to shove, would I be able to get to her in time to make any difference at all? Even if I crashed my way into the room with two absolutely massive beings before me, was there anything I could do to help?

My few milliseconds for strategizing were abruptly cut short as the creak of the door opening far off in the distance hit my ears. My blood froze in my veins and I admit, I held my breath as I ground my heels into the wood of the desk, waiting to discover what was taking place far beyond where I stood.

The door opened. I strained, wincing and wishing I wasn’t banished to this far off room, like some weak little coveted prize to be stashed away when danger called. I couldn’t be certain, but I swore I heard a gasp.

Her gasp.

My heart thundered ever more feverishly. That was it. I had to do something. Anything. Even if it got me killed. I would not lie down and cower in fear like some weak little waste of oxygen. If she needed my help, I’d try my damndest to give it.

Without a second thought, I hobbled over to the edge of her desk, contemplating the cables I’d shimmied down once before. I now had the much more logistically challenging job of navigating this vertical drop with a letter opener towering a whole 3 inches above my head and mobility aid tucked under my arm. I heard a shuffling of feet as I swung my own over the cliff’s edge that was the desk’s ledge. I tried not to think about how a drop from this height could kill me as I heard her exclaim, “What the fuck? What’re you doing here?” Was this someone she knew? To my ears, it didn’t sound good.

I needed to move, and quickly. I heard a male voice, deep and wholly unfamiliar ring in response, but I hardly had the bandwidth to pick up on his exact words. I managed to hear “Worried… Own good… Don’t freak out…” I launched myself over the edge, both hands gripping the cord as I swung precariously, trying not to drop the two objects carefully hooked under my right shoulder joint and pressed to my side with the crook of my elbow. I had to make sure to apply adequate pressure to keep them from slipping.

Hand under fist, I began to slowly lower myself down the length of the cord. The progress was abysmally slow. I bared my teeth, sweat forming on my brow, as a muscular burning began to blossom in my shoulders and arms. No! Not now, I’ve only just begun my descent.

I pictured Natalie’s face in my mind. I’d no doubt she could hold her own quite well. The incident with the driver in her alley and her unapologetic shouting match with the impatient man came immediately to the forefront of my thoughts. She did not hesitate to come to her own defense, and I knew that. What she’d failed to remember when she’d commanded me to hide myself away, is that I would not hesitate to do the same.

I was ripped back to reality by two concurrent events that occupied my full attention. First, I could feel my crutch slipping dangerously from my hold on it, threatening to fall out of my grip entirely, as my arms shook with the effort to hold myself aloft. I could hardly afford to risk letting go with one arm to catch it, let alone be able to twist around in time to stop its fall. I doubted I’d be able to support my full weight with just one fist gripping tightly to the slippery rubber casing of a wire. Yet, if it tumbled to the ground, and out of reach, I’d be royally screwed in trying to hobble even a few paces.

As I hung in place, tightening the pressure between my elbow and ribs to try to keep the objects from falling, the second event tore me away from my current disaster unto another. There were footsteps, loud and unmistakable, thundering toward the door. This human, whoever he was, would be bursting through the threshold in only a few seconds’ time, judging by the cacophony of shoes on wood flooring.

I was much too high off the ground to risk jumping, but too far down to have enough time to clamor back up again. This was a huge mistake. I was stuck, midair, probably about level with the average human’s thigh, swinging uselessly, and utterly exposed. Like ripe fruit ready to be plucked from its vine, I was at high risk of being snatched up.

Steel yourself, Alexander, now’s not the time for succumbing to fear. I had a weapon after all, and a sharp one at that.

The gigantic footfalls continued with ever growing intensity in my direction. The stranger’s voice seemed far too casual and familiar for my liking, “Aww, come on, I gotta see what’s been goin’ on… what’re you trying to hide?” Who was this man? Why was she not stopping him and what gave him any right to invade her home on such unexpected notice, no less?

What was she trying to hide? Me. You unwelcome invader of privacy. She’s trying to hide me. So much for keeping out of plain sight and giving her peace of mind.

“No, you really don’t! N-no I’m not hiding– I just… now’s not a good time and–” Her voice was softer than his, quieter and more distant. He was charging ahead and she was scrambling after him. What was wrong with this human? Did he not know how to listen?

The footfalls were so close now, I could feel them as they ricocheted through the hardwood floor of the hall, and shook my makeshift climbing rope ever so slightly.

How embarrassing. Just their steps were enough to rock me to and fro like a fragile leaf on the breeze. I swallowed hard. This was it. In the next millisecond I’d be face to face… well… make that face to body with an unknown enemy.

I gripped tighter, tucking the cable between the sole of one shoe and the toe of the other, so that I didn’t have to bear all my weight with just my arms. This muscular effort tweaked my injured leg, as my trembling hands gained some small relief. With my crutch still barely able to balance, I readied myself to use my weapon if needed. I was almost certain it would be needed.

That’s when he crashed through the door.

He towered over me, of course. The gusts of wind generated from his massive form erupting into the room threw my hair about my face and made me grit my teeth. Why did humans have to be so big?!

He stopped just inside the doorway, his left thigh upsettingly close, yet maybe just an inch or so shy of being within stabbing range. Damn. Still, he was much too near for my liking. I could practically smell him. Was that fresh soap and a hint of cinnamon? I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

He hadn’t noticed me yet: of course not, I was far below his eye line, why would he? He stood comfortably, as if he owned the place. He looked a few years older than Natalie, perhaps about my age, though it was impossible to know for sure. His bespectacled visage was bright, excitable. He seemed amused, as he cast his gaze around. His beard, dark in color, just like his neat, tightly curled hair, was cut close to his jawline. The wide-necked cable-knit sweater he wore sported a geometric pattern in black, royal blue and crisp white. His left hand relaxed inside the pocket of his corduroy slacks, as he took in the room before him.

I hated him at first glance.

He played the part of a perfect Nantucket dandy, clearly hailing from wealth, and with the added benefit of an Ivy League university education, he seemed out of place in Natalie’s humble living conditions. Everything about him oozed with pretension and privilege. And yet, the two of them seemed well acquainted, so there must’ve been some common ground.

While this strange and wholly unwelcome intruder delighted in the view, my muscles were screaming for relief. Sweat poured from my brow and down the back of my neck. My arms, in spite of my best efforts, were starting to tremble and that damned cane was ever closer to tipping out of my grasp and down to the floor, a deadly distance away. I couldn’t hold on for much longer, but I’d be damned if I’d let this supercilious interloper’s first encounter with me be one of pitying condescension because I required any form of assistance.

A moment after he’d paused in the doorway, the third party in this equation, and second human, my human, practically crashed into him in her hurried attempt to stop him in his tracks. Great job, on that front, Natalie. She managed to stop just short of colliding directly into his back by gripping to the threshold of the door and halting her momentum. Much to my surprise, I noticed she was significantly shorter than him. Was Natalie short? That seemed impossible, given just how towering she was to me. Or was this unannounced visitor just abnormally tall? From my vantage point they both may as well have been city buildings, so the difference hardly mattered.

I watched as her eyes flitted feverishly over the desk’s surface, no doubt searching for me. She was red faced and breathless. I couldn’t tell if she was more relieved or panicked by not knowing where I was. Maybe luck was on my side and I’d go unnoticed by them both, left to gasp and tend to my sore muscles in the sanctity and peace of a humanless space. She sucked in air as if about to speak, no doubt to usher him out of the room, when he, oblivious, his back to both of us, cut her off.

“Damn Nat, since when did you start picking up? This place always looked like a tornado blew through here but now it should be on the cover of a home decor magazine or something… What’s changed?” Me. I’m the change that made her clean up her pigsty of a home. You’re welcome. If I hadn’t been convinced already, it was painfully clear now that these two knew each other. He had this smug, easy going familiarity about him that made the bile rise in my throat. Who did this man think he was, waltzing into Natalie’s home uninvited and entirely unexpected and then parading around as if he owned the place? Was he expecting to stay for dinner? Spend the weekend on her couch? How dare he interrupt her work, our work, as if we had nothing better to do with our day than entertain him!

I glanced over at Natalie, she didn’t seem the least bit offended or wary of his presence. So he’d been an unplanned but not altogether shocking visitor? How often did this stranger make himself comfortable in her home? They must’ve been quite close if he had unfettered access to her space and had been here frequently enough to note her change in personal organization. Why hadn't she mentioned him before?

As he spoke, he took another step into the space and went so far as to sweep a finger tip across the surface of her dresser to check for dust, his expression one of impressed intrigue (as he should be, that was my meticulous and thorough dusting he was observing).

While he remained occupied, I suddenly felt the invasion of her gaze alighting on me. She finally spotted me, dangling there like some marionette in the world’s most boring puppet show.

Her eyes bulged from her skull, as she set her jaw and her nostrils flared in that capricious way she always did when she was upset with me, which was infuriatingly often.

Her gaze flitted with anxious intensity from my dangling form to the back of this other human, and then returned to me. With a frantic, utterly confounded gesture she mouthed at me with a serpent’s intensity “What the fuck are you doing?!”

I hissed back, the heat in my face beginning to rise, “What am I doing? Why is he–” I jutted my chin in the stanger’s direction, which I immediately regretted as the force of my gesture forced me to swing in counterbalance, making the challenge of keeping my grip steady and the objects in my arms from falling all the more difficult, “--even here?” I cast my eyes down to the letter opener, and then back to her, “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m protecting you!”

Somehow, her eyes managed to widen even farther as her gaze followed mine toward the letter opener in my grip, its blade as long as I was tall, sharp and menacing, “Don’t you dare! Alexander! No! Do NOT.”

While she spat through gritted teeth, she made all kinds of emphatic gestures: shaking her head, swiping her hand in one fell motion across her throat, and staring daggers at me. If she hadn’t learned by now that telling me what to do would get her absolutely nowhere, then there really was no hope for her. If the man deserved to be stabbed, a stabbing he would get. Simple as that.

She seemed to read my mind, “Alexander–” She was about to continue, her eyes narrowed to slits, even taking half a step in my direction, no doubt on the verge of expressing more disapproval for my very reasonable reaction to an invader in her home, or perhaps to simply snatch me up and disarm me, which I was prepared to fight tooth and nail over. Just as she drew another breath, however, the seemingly spatially unaware invader himself, clearly having no idea of this fiercely whispered conversation behind his back, uttered a noise of delight and intrigue which made both our heads whip in his direction.

“Oh! This is adorable!” During the length of our heated exchange, our interloper had graduated from the dresser to the bedside table, where he was now leaning, hands on knees, marveling at the miniature wonder that was my neatly made bed, my dresser, and a few other furniture items, all to my scale: my open air bedroom of sorts. Oh give me a break! Have you never seen a bed before? What’s wrong with you?

Defensively, Natalie stepped in his direction, still trying to keep my presence a secret; a smart move if his fascination with just my furniture was any indication of how he’d react to seeing me. A few beads of sweat traced down my spine as I grit my teeth, struggling to hold on. He continued to stare, adjusting his glasses for a better look, “What’s all this for? It’s so cute!” Come back over here and I’ll show you cute.

Realizing with simultaneous intuition that we had about half a second before he’d turn over his shoulder to look back in her direction, we exchanged a swift, knowing glance before she turned on her heel, and planted herself firmly between him and my hiding spot, obscuring me from view.

“Oh! All that? It’s… nothing… I thought my niece might like them, I just haven’t wrapped them up for her yet…” Ah yes, thank you Natalie, for reminding me that I and your niece’s playthings could do a furniture swap if we wanted. Excellent. At least she was giving me a chance to escape my predicament. She got points for that.

I wasted no time in re-engaging my muscles for the upward climb. As my shoulder joints buckled, I felt my stomach drop. Did I have the strength to pull myself up?

Now was not the time for doubt. I had to try.

She continued to cover for me, speaking louder than was normal, as I made laughably little progress towards the lip of the desk, “Anyway, look, I really appreciate you coming to check on me. You have literally been saving my ass with the lectures and stuff, I owe you, big time…” My whole body was trembling, my breath escaping my lungs in ragged gasps, my hands, now slick with sweat, were struggling to maintain traction, as my hurt leg burned from the far too great strain I was putting on it just to keep from slipping. As I struggled against gravity, Natalie crossed the room to the other human, trying her damndest to usher him toward the door.

I was only a bit too preoccupied at the moment to clock whether her encouragement was proving successful. Hand over fist, feet wrapped tightly around the thick, rubber casing, I was getting ever closer to sweet relief. Only about two inches of distance left. I could do this.

No sooner had I encouraged myself, than my next handhold gave way and I was left to cling fast by one arm, as I instinctively hugged the letter opener and cane to my chest with my now free hand, both objects swaying wildly along the same pendulum trajectory of my own form. My heart rate spiked and it took every ounce of willpower I had not to make a sound as I happened to peer down at the floor, seemingly a million miles below me. That was close. Taking advantage of the gravitational force that bandied me about, I managed to grab back on with my right hand.

Okay, crisis averted, I could do this.

“...But, you did your check-up on me and as you can see I’m totally fine, so…”

Nevermind. I could not do this.

No sooner had I steeled myself for the homestretch, my grip gave way again and this time I had much less luck in righting myself. My favored hand, my left, failed me, as did my foothold. I was now dangling, precariously, by one arm, legs flailing, as I swung with a violent rhythm. But that wasn’t the end of my troubles. In my scramble to right myself, my movement was enough to finally knock the crutch from my grasp.. and down, down, down it fell.

"...Thanks for stopping by. Like I said I do have a bunch of shit to do today–” CLANG!!!

The aluminum cane collided with the metal rim of the trash can below. My shoulders flew up to my ears as I cringed and grit my teeth.

So much for keeping a low profile.

The gasp of pure delight that came from the man across the room made my stomach churn, as I hung, wrapped tightly around the cable, my one line of defense still pressed between my chest and arm. The speed with which he turned on his heel, alerted by the sound I’d accidentally made, only to almost instantaneously break into a, frankly, disturbingly joyful smile made my countenance twist into a snarl. He practically bounded over to me, with so much enthusiasm that his footfalls shook me from head to toe.

Why, oh why, did I ever delude myself into thinking the company of humans was ever worthwhile?

Much to my utter frustration and embarrassment, all my swinging and thrashing about for a steady hold left the wire above me twisted, and, therefore, I found myself being turned so that his rapidly approaching gigantic face was greeted with only my back.

This was all much too humiliating. I kicked and writhed in a minimally successful attempt to right myself. What I was greeted with made me regret the effort.

His bespectacled gaze was a mere few inches from my body, his dark eyes, widened and glowed with patronizing fascination.

“Awwwww…” His voice was booming, the intensity of his stare far too all-encompassing, he was close enough that I could smell him, that hint of soap and cinnamon striking my nostrils like a biochemical warning signal. He smiled, his massive eyes staring directly down into mine, “You need help, there, little buddy?” I could practically feel the steam erupting from my ears. Before I even had a chance to snap back, the pad of a finger, huge, rough and jarring, pressed into my ribs to turn me fully about.

I writhed away from his touch, swinging to and fro and snarling, “DO NOT TOUCH ME.” Even a rattlesnake gives one fair warning before he strikes, this is mine and you’d do well to adhere to its call.

Simultaneously with my outburst Natalie stepped forward, clearly forecasting what was to come. She knew me well enough by now to know just how I would take such condescension. As she came forward, I felt myself tensing, Don’t you dare swoop in and rob me of my moment. I don’t need your help here, I’m well armed and perfectly capable. I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin, hungering for the now inevitable moment of confrontation with a being twelve times larger than myself.

She continued to close the distance between us, and I couldn’t help noticing how her hand rested on his trapezius muscle with easy familiarity. She glared at him, an eyebrow raised “Yeah. Don’t, dude. Don’t do that…” Her eyes darted from him to me, her right hand poised to reach forward and tear me away. As much as I relished the idea of not having to hang here any longer, I craved the opportunity to give this dimwit a piece of my mind with far greater fervor.

But it seemed unnecessary for me to advocate on my own behalf, because he immediately laid the groundwork of his own demise, “Aw, come on, Nat. Don’t stress. I’ve got this. Just watch, we’re gonna be the best of friends after today, aren’t we? Aren’t we little fella?” How perfect. Keeping digging your own grave, you cable-knit clown.

He stared expectantly, awaiting a response. His brows furrowed when he received nothing but an unrelenting glare from me, “He’s not much of a talker, huh?” His eyes darted uncomfortably away from my stone cold stare, as he looked to Natalie for an explanation.

“Quite the opposite, actually. That’s why I’m worried…”

“Aww, don’t be! I’m not gonna hurt him!”

“… for you, jackass. You’ve pissed him off into silent rage, that’s a level farther than even I’ve gotten.”

The bespectacled man burst into laughter. Not only did the volume at this distance threaten to blow out my eardrums, but the boiling of my blood quickened my heart rate and I couldn’t help but snarl. The ignoramus wiped a tear from his eye and managed to speak between bouts of belly laughter, “You’re joking, right? That’s adorable! Uh oh, somebody’s grumpy! We all better be very afraid!” He threw his hands up in mock terror. His voice cascaded and echoed in a sing-songy voice reserved for the condescension of human babies or cute animals. Come just a little closer, you ignorant bastard, I dare you.

“I’m gonna say this one more time, you’re gonna regret saying shit like that, I promise. So either move and let me disarm him, or you’ll see what happens when you piss him off!”

Another round of incredulous laughter. Could he manage to be any louder and more obnoxious? I highly doubted it. He continued, unphased by Natalie’s apt warning, “Look at him! He’s harmless! What’s he gonna do? That letter opener is bigger than he is. I’m actually surprised he’s even able to hold it!” You’ll be even more surprised how much force I can put behind it when its razor edge sinks into your flesh, “Yeah, you’re not gonna hurt me, are ya? I bet you’re just a sweet little guy, deep down. I just frightened you, is all. Don’t be scared…” Scared?! Who did he think he was dealing with? “Did you drop something? Here lemme help you….”

He sank all the way to his knees now, searching the carpet fibers for my long lost cane. I waited, practically salivating in anticipation. He rose back to a neutral spine, his knees still planted in the carpet, as he held the walking aide triumphantly between finger and thumb, it looking no more durable than a twig in his massive grip. He grinned brightly, clearly pleased with himself. Alright, just a little closer…

He waved it wildly in front of my face, like teasing a dog with a stick before playing fetch. Needless to say I was less than amused. He leaned forward, to place it on the surface of the desk behind me. Yes, you’re doing great, A+ for hitting your mark. You’re almost exactly where I want you to be. Just a tiny bit closer… His massive face was mere inches from mine, I could see every pore, every eyelash, every detail I’m sure most humans would prefer to be left to the imagination. He was so near I could feel the cascading tide of his breath stirring tendrils of my hair. He looked down at me, his dark brown eyes bright with bubbly self satisfaction, “There ya go. See? We can be friends. I’m not out to getcha…” As soon as the object clattered to the wooden surface, his hand descended from over my head, careening down, closer and closer until his fingers were right on top of me, aiming for my hair. Was this man about to try and pet me?!

Without a second’s hesitation, I wrapped my right arm firmly around the chord, hefted the letter opener over my head, tucked it securely on my left side, and then shoved it forward with all my might.

The trajectory of the weapon was suddenly halted when its point hit home, jarring my shoulder as it absorbed the ricochet of force.

This four-eyed Polyphemus roared in shock and surprise, his hand flying up to the origin of sudden pain. The letter opener had glanced off the rim of his glasses, and the blade hit its mark just an inch or so shy of his right ocular organ. He whipped away, batting the letter opener as he went with such force that he very nearly pulled the weapon and me right along with him, but, somehow, in spite of our significant disparity in strength, I managed to hold fast.

His initial exclamation, loud enough to deafen me, was not one of articulate words, but rather garbled shouting. He’d flung himself backwards, crumpled in a heap on the floor.

And thus, Saint George slayed the dragon.

Did I feel a swell of pride enlarge my chest? You bet I did.

Raising my voice over the din, I shouted at the top of my lungs, “I TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH ME, YOU INSUFFERABLE WRETCH!” I couldn’t help but laugh as I swung on the wire, all muscular exhaustion temporarily forgotten in the wake of this newfound excitement.

“ALEXANDER!!!” Uh oh.

Here came Natalie, her shadow casting a pall, literally and figuratively, over my gleeful celebration. She was pissed. I didn’t care.

Meanwhile, her friend had scrambled across the carpet until his head crashed into the dresser behind him, “WHAT THE FUCK?!?! HE ALMOST STABBED ME IN THE EYE!” The timbre of his voice had gone from saccharinely sweet baby talk to one of whiny disdain and flustered disbelief. He pointed at me emphatically with his free hand, looking to Natalie for some sort of recompense.

I beat her to the punch.

“WHAT DID I SAY? HM? WHAT DID I TELL YOU? I WARNED YOU!!!” I shouted across the cavern between myself and him, until my throat was raw. By this time, Natalie had fully crossed the few feet between her dresser and desk, settling before me on her knees, her brow furrowed and her jaw clenched.

“Alexander! Hush! You’ve done enough damage already…” Her fingers descended around me, her thumbs pressing into my sternum and across my abdomen, her coinciding index fingers reaching under my arms and just above my hips to support my weight. Her grip was a bit harder and swifter than I’d become used to. She was trying to pluck me up quickly, and I sensed it wasn’t simply due to a desire to relieve me of holding myself up.

Nevertheless, I was grateful for the relief, letting out a breath I hadn’t noticed I was holding. Carefully, she untangled me from the wire and shifted me to a seated position in her right palm. As she gathered me in her hand, she paused just long enough to cast a glance over her shoulder, “He did warn you though, like, in a multitude of ways…”

“Ha! See??” I burst with pride, unable to keep a wide grin from painting my features.

She whipped around immediately, “Oh shut up, Alexander,” She pointed her index finger at my chest, “You’re in as much trouble as he is! He was being a fucking ass, yes, but you didn’t have to shank him! Give me that!!” Her finger and thumb dove for the plastic handle of my weapon, still dutifully tucked under my arm.

I resisted, jerking my shoulder in the opposite direction, “Me? What did I do except protect myself… and you?”

She looked utterly incredulous, motioning with a sweeping, exaggerated gesture at the injured party, who had now managed to scramble to his feet, examining his battle wound in the vanity mirror, “You STABBED my fucking friend! That’s the TA!”

I was baffled by this newfound information.

“THAT’S the TA? Who’s been sending the taped lectures and keeping your attendance afloat? That pretentious imbecile? Well, he shouldn’t have been so condescending to me! And… besides, you could’ve led with that, you know! Maybe then I’d have gone for his hands instead!” I found myself escalating in volume as I spoke, getting increasingly more emphatic, until I was practically shouting.

“You didn’t give me a chance before you went all Zorro on his ass!!!!!”

“What’s Zorro?!?!?”

“Oh my god! Give me the sharp object Alexander, do not make me pry it out of your tiny little hands!” My face flushed hot. I knew she was keenly aware I resented that completely unnecessary addition of ‘tiny’ and ‘little’ into her request. Nothing about me was little, everything and everyone else was just huge. End of story.

She held out her free hand, flat, just below my chest, raising one eyebrow expectantly. I held off for a second, then another, “ALEXANDER!” Fine!

I trusted our intruder understood his limits now and would not be making the same mistake twice. I relented, laying the slightly bloodied object across her fingers. She pursed her lips as if to say “That’s what I thought.” I had a feeling she had a few choice words for me after this unexpected visit. No matter. I regretted nothing.

“Uh, Nat?” It’s bleeding… like a lot…” His voice from across the room drew our attention once more. He turned over his shoulder as he spoke, revealing a rivulet of blood springing from his cheek, down the fingers he’d pressed against it to staunch the flow, and down farther still, staining his pristine, white, woolen collar.

“Fuck!” Natalie practically groaned, before flashing me an extremely dirty look, “Here, lemme… uh, here…” she half rose, seeming to suddenly remember she was holding me. With a grimace, she set me down somewhat roughly on the desktop. She wasted no time in quickly swiping the letter opener up and away from my grasp, before securing it in the back pocket of her jeans. Taking a quick glance around, she decided to pluck up the entire metal cup of pens and other writing utensils, “Please, just stay right here.” I crossed my arms over my chest and glared. When she realized that was all she was going to get from me, she rolled her eyes and sighed.

With that she rushed over to her friend who was cupping his other hand beneath the first to catch drops of crimson as they fell. She threw the pencil holder down on the vanity and ushered him hurriedly to the bathroom, turning over her shoulder and pointing both fingers at her eyes, before reversing the gesture to be aimed at me. I held my hands up, what could I possibly do now? I was unarmed, and stranded. The object of my disdain far away from my radius for harm.

As they retreated, I heard the wounded man grumble, “Fuck! He’s a little… demon!!” I had the sense that a different word had come to mind first, but he’d chosen the latter.

“… Yeah, believe me, I know…” Hey! Natalie, you’re supposed to be on my side!

“Why in the hell do you keep him around, then?”

“I don’t know how to explain it, but, believe it or not, he actually kinda grows on you after a while.” I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Should I be offended or flattered?

“I can’t believe he actually stabbed me…” And I’d do it again without hesitation.

After that, their voices became so muffled beyond the partially closed bathroom door that it was hardly worth straining to listen.

I sat alone, isolated and small, feeling a burning sensation in all my exhausted muscle groups, as my heart and lungs worked to steady themselves to a more even tempo. The gift of solitude meant that I no longer had to maintain my composure. I collapsed back onto an elbow, breath coming in ragged fits and starts, no longer having to maintain a defensive stance. Air couldn’t come fast enough as I choked and sweat dripped in my eyes and down my back and neck. My arms and legs were spasming as I tried my best to come down from the excitement of all that had just transpired. Damn, my leg hurt. Everything hurt. I focused on my breathing for a few moments, eyes craned to the ceiling so far above where I lay. I was utterly exhausted. A long rest in my bed which had been the object of such condescension and ridicule just a while ago sounded utterly delightful. But what could I do? I had no means of crossing the vast room in any practical way. I was much too pathetically little for such luxuries of inhabiting two different corners of a room with ease. As if I needed any more reminders today of how small I was. What was a man in my situation to do but sit and ponder? I had no other recourse, after all.

So, this was her friend who’d helped make all this time working from home possible? I was beginning to think Natalie had very poor taste in friends. I wrinkled my nose in disgust remembering how his eyes had lit up in fascination like I was some shiny, new, coveted object. What was wrong with humans? What was so delightfully fascinating about me anyway? In any case, he got exactly what was coming to him.

The muffled sound of voices honed into sharp focus as, suddenly, a voice with a male timbre could be heard whining, “Fuck! OWWW!!!”

A female voice followed with zero hesitation, “Oh don’t be such a fucking baby!”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. You got what you deserved, you overly enthused idiot. Of course, in fairness to him, I knew firsthand how dangerous Natalie could be when armed with a cotton swab soaked in hydrogen peroxide.

*********

If I was in the mood to be generous, which I wasn’t, all I could say is that the tension in the air between myself, leaning over the kitchen counter prepping two whiskey cokes, my friend, nursing his wounds at my kitchen table, and the positively tiny man, petulantly sulking on the opposite side of the table and somehow, even from this distance, palpably radiating with vitriol, was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. The only sound was the groan of the living room heater, as ice clattered in the glass while I poured.

We’d shuffled from bedroom to kitchen without so much as a word between us. And now here we were, all avoiding eye contact like put out children. This was fucking stupid. They were both being wildly immature about this. Build a bridge guys. Don’t condscend and don’t be a fucking dick, it’s not that complicated. Did this whole crazy day say something about me? Was I like a drama magnet or something?

Tired of the exhaustive pity party, I swept my hair from my eyes, and swirling them for a final time, I set the drinks down by a wool sweater covered elbow. Neither of them bothered to respond.

I stood there for a moment before breaking the ice myself, “Alright then… Alexander? Meet Charles. He’s a teaching assistant in most of my main lectures this semester. He was just coming over to check on me since I’d kinda gone AWOL these last few weeks. That’s all. He’s not a threat to either of us, okay? He’s a good guy and he means well. He just… had a pretty major… lapse in judgment. One of the smartest people I know… Oh, don’t glare at me like that! Besides you, of course. Okay, Charles, meet Alexander. I found him in my pantry… well, actually, my roses… well, I technically found him in the trash, I just didn’t know it yet… anyway, he’s incredibly intelligent, fiercely independent, and he’s been through some fucking major shit, yet, he still manages to come back swinging every time. To be super clear, he’s here only as long as he wants to be, he’s his own man and he has my utmost respect, even though he pisses me off every five minutes for doing gremlin shit like stabbing my friends in the fucking face. Oh, and he’s almost as big a nerd as you, so I’d like to think you two can find some common ground. So, with that said, it’s time to kiss and make up.” They each bore holes into the surface of the table. I refused to take no for an answer, “Apologize to each other, now.”

Both their heads whipped up, brows furrowed, incredulous sputters erupting from both mouths, big and small. Then, upon realizing I was serious, and almost as if on cue, both shouted, “Me?! What did I do?!”

“Jesus Christ, do I have to do all the heavy lifting around here?” I couldn’t help but massage my temples, a stress headache no doubt on the near horizon, “Charles? Gimme your eyes…” My friend’s lips flattened into a line as he raised one eyebrow as if to say, ‘Really, Nat?’ My bad. Wrong turn of phrase, given that one of his seeing organs was nearly lost just a few minutes ago.

I sighed, settling into the chair between the two uneasy parties, each glaring over his shoulder at the other, “Sorry, well, your one good one, then… Look…” Fuck, bad phrasing again, what was wrong with me? “…I haven’t even had a chance to properly thank you for braving this shit weather to come check on me. I know I haven’t been super responsive and you’re a good friend…”

The tiny scoff in the vicinity of my right elbow made me, albeit briefly, change course, “Zip it, Alexander!” Instead of acquiescing quietly, he, of course, had to make a big show of his dislike of being told what to do. He threw his small weight dramatically against the ugly, chipped, ceramic salt shaker my grandma gifted me years ago.

The object hardly even rocked as he pressed against it, rolling over his shoulder to turn away from me and obscure himself from view behind the white and blue patterned flowers, “…Anyway, where was I?” I turned my attention back to Charles, “Yes, you’re awesome, thank you for always watering my plants when I go home on break and for making the hellscape that is lawschool slightly more bearable. However… As you can see, there’s something significantly different from last time we really talked and there’s some important things you need to know: He may look like the cutest little blonde-haired, blue-eyed angel that you’ve ever seen, he may be so adorably small that he can fit in just the palm of your hand and, yes, in theory, if you were really determined to pick him up you could do so without too much resistance, but when I tell you it is against your own self interest to fuck with this little man I am speaking from extensive experience. He deserves as much respect as anyone else, big or small. He’s fought for that all his life and at least in the confines of this apartment, he’ll get what he’s worked so hard for. Believe me, he had to train me too, in the beginning. Listen to him and everyone will be much better off for it, I promise. Do not condescend to him, do not touch him without his permission and do not, under any circumstances, treat him as anything less than the hyper intelligent, wonderful little nightmare he is.” Out of the corner of my eye, I caught tiny movements on the table’s surface below, a pair of blue eyes staring up at me through blonde, curtained bangs as he listened intently. I didn’t dare flash my gaze in that direction, knowing full well once he’d been caught in the act, he’d turn away again.

Charles was quick to respond, applying pressure with a few fingers around the banadage on his cheek, as if spot checking for blood, “Little nightmare is fuckin’ right. What did I do? I was kind. I helped him. I tried to be as gentle as I could. Look at him, he’s adorable… er, was… Can I really be blamed for that?” He shrugged defensively, “I mean, c’mon, they’re tiny, they’re cute, isn’t that, like, the whole point?”

I was going to strangle him, “Dude, did you listen to a single thing I just said?”

“What?! I thought they liked it!”

“You thought I… what?” No longer satisfied with lingering behind the salt shaker, Alexander rose to standing. Without his cane, which, in all the fuss, I’d stupidly left in the bedroom, he steadied himself with one hand on the painted ceramic, his chest puffed out, a defiant gleam in his eye. Oh boy, here we go. I knew better than to get in his way, but I couldn’t help taking a long swig from my glass in preparation for the tirade that was about to transpire, “Please, repeat yourself, you thought I… what was that again?”

Charles stuttered, flashing glances at me. His face was drawn, he instinctively leaned back, away from the little man before him who was unflinchingly glaring up in his direction. He knew he’d been caught, “W-well, I just… you know what I meant…”

“You thought I liked being talked down to and treated with disregard? Interesting. What part of my reaction gave you that impression?” Even from this distance (perhaps a foot or so across the surface of the table) I could see his blue eyes were burning. Charles failed to respond, simply sputtering instead. I knew Alexander was just loving every second of this… smart little bastard, “No, I’m curious. You’re an aspiring attorney, aren’t you? Go on, then. Defend your case.”

Charles looked at me and I offered no solace, instead, I simply raised an eyebrow and downed another substantial fraction of my drink. As the little man spoke, goading the much larger recipient into a debate, he stepped away from the shaker, crossing toward Charles’ end of the table. I immediately bit my lip as he left the support behind and bore weight on his still weak leg. I did my best not to intervene, holding my breath as he made a few steps forward, a painful limp evident in his gait. Despite the pain, no doubt shooting through his body, his voice never waivered. Goddamn, I was proud of him, even if he was insulting my friend left and right. He tucked a hand into his side pocket, the other resting on his chest with a poised ease, his fingers spread from his solar plexus down the length of his sternum. This little nightmare knew precisely what he was doing, and I couldn’t help but watch, “Charles, wasn’t it? Tell me, Charles, how would you like it, if–” Just then, as he took another step forward, his knee failed to bear his weight, and he buckled.

Gasping, my hand flew toward him, offering him support with a few fingers. He fell forward into my grasp, a snarl curling his mouth as his hands spread on my fingertips. He leaned against me until he regained his balance, gripping onto the segments of my fingers to pull himself back up. My heart was in my throat, as I searched his little face for signs of pain, noticing the rhythm of his own tiny heartbeats, though they spiked for a moment, didn’t seem to be going into overdrive. Setting his shoulders, he pushed forward, against my hand, attempting to continue on his path. I hesitated, providing the slightest resistance. His brow knit and those burning irises locked with mine again, “Natalie, I’m fine. Let go.”

He wasn’t scared. His face was flushed and his bangs were disheveled, but his eyes were steeled and determined. I pulled my hand away without hesitation, wincing internally at each furious little limping stride he took, his fists balled at his sides.

He regarded the man before him, whose eyeline may as well have been the summit of a sizable cliff face in their proportion to each other. The little man stood fearlessly beside a tumbler full of alcohol that he could have bathed in, sucked in a clean breath and laid into the larger man, “What you fail to understand is that there is not a single cell in my body that likes my current predicament,” As he spoke, his left pointer finger sawed and jabbed the air like some sort of rhetorical blade intent on wounding his target, “I did not ask for you to loom over me, to touch me, to condescend or pacify me. I am not your friend, I don’t know you in any familiar way, yet you see someone like me, adorable and tiny, as I believe you put it, and you immediately assume that makes me somehow less valuable as a sentient being. You think that just because you can overpower me you have every right to do so. And I concede, in the current political landscape, you are legally allowed, no… not allowed, you are, in fact, encouraged to do so. And why shouldn’t you? I exist explicitly for your entertainment, don’t I? And, in any case, what am I going to do about it, even if I don’t like it? I couldn’t possibly, out of a desire for self-preservation, consider the idea of fighting back, could I? No! No, of course not. Because, as you put it, I’m just a ‘sweet little guy’, who ‘likes it’ when you treat me like an object. Indeed, it feels about as wonderful as a letter opener lodged in your face!”

There was a pregnant pause between all three of us, as the gravity of his words pervaded the room. Both Charles and I couldn’t help but stare ashamedly into the inky depths of our drinks. I knew I was no saint, myself, when it came to the little man. He stood now with a rod straight spine, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as his lungs heaved with the task of receiving oxygen again, his unflinching gaze trained on the avoidant eyes of his opposite. I knew I’d fucked up hundreds of times: pissed him off, disspointed him, failed him. He was so right, and it was important we shut up and listen.

The only sound was the heater rattling away, once again.

“... Fuck…” Charles sighed, leaning all the way back in his chair now, his head in his hands. He was full of remorse “I’m… I’m really sorry. I wasn’t… You’re right, I just jumped to… I’m sorry, Alexander.” I watched the little man who wore his every thought on his sleeve, as he took this in. He was shocked. His head cocked to the side, his brow furrowed, his lips parting just slightly from their usual tight, pensive tension. He hadn’t expected this. Not at all. He blinked rapidly, his rigid posture softening ever so slightly as he was taken off-guard.

Charles, taking precautions not to move too suddenly, pushed his chair out and leaned on the lip of the table, his chin resting on his forearm. As he moved, Alexander took a half step back, wary and uncertain about the whole situation, still, he never cowered and his eyes showed no fear. As the larger man settled himself, he was still a good distance from the baffled little man with whom he was now almost eye level. Slowly, he offered his index finger, “I’m sorry I insulted you. Can you forgive me?” Alexander regarded the man with suspicion, his brows knitted and his lips turned down into a sort of puzzled caution.

Still, to my utter surprise, instead of using this moment of genuine vulnerability against his opponent, the little man stepped forward in all his five and a half inches and, albeit not all that enthusiastically, took the offered digit in the palm of his hand and shook it tersely before quickly breaking away.

Charles didn’t linger in his space for long and soon returned to an upright position, as Alexander rubbed the center of his palm with the ball of his opposite thumb. It was clear we all needed some air.

“Hey,” Charles met my gaze as I got his attention, “Could you do us a favor and go get his cane?” He and I exchanged a knowing glance. It was clear he understood what I was really asking for, “Just… just in case…” With a terse nod, the man in the wool sweater rose and disappeared down the hall.

As the sound of his steps faded, I turned my full attention to the five and a half inches of a little life before me. It was just us again, after what’d felt like an eternity of drama. For the first time since that knock on the door, the air seemed to come a little more freely into my lungs. I propped my head on an elbow and looked him over. I watched his little body release pent up tension, his defensive spine melting into the everyday rigidity of his usual posture. Poor thing. Did he ever really allow himself to relax? He thrust his hands into his pockets, leaning his weight on his left side. I wondered how his leg was holding up. He hadn’t strained it this much since his surgery. I wanted desperately to offer him a hand to lean on but didn’t want to patronize. I bit my lip.

Seeming to read my mind like a book, his keen eyes flitted in my direction, “I’m fine.” Are you, though? Or are you putting on a brave face? “I can tell you want to touch me as some form of physical comfort. So, go ahead, get it over with…” he lowered his head and spread his arms, as if surrendering.

A pang of guilt shot through me, “No, I don’t want to make you endure it. If you want me to leave you alone, I will.”

“You’re going to pout if I don’t allow for some form of contact. So, go on, just do what you’d like, within reason…” his head had stayed lowered to the ground until his very last few words, when his icy irises flashed up at me, and I caught a glimpse of a very different kind of glow in his eyes, one that was much softer, more vulnerable. I’d opened my mouth to rebuff him again when those eyes changed everything.

Oh.

This was his way of asking for it. His pride would never allow him to directly request what he wanted at this moment, especially not after chastising us both for our sins of condescension. I didn’t blame him. He’d been threatened, humiliated, laughed at, and stressed out. Maybe a minute or two to rest would do a world of good for him but, of course, he couldn’t admit to wanting something from me, that would be far too weak. We couldn’t acknowledge the reality of that truth for the sake of his ego, so I played along instead, “Just for a minute, please? You tell me when you’ve had enough torture for one day and I’ll let you go.” He nodded, eyes still fixed to the ground. Although it was almost impossible to see his face, I swear I saw more color in his cheek.

“Yes, yes, let’s get this over with.”

I slid my hand over to him, very gently wrapping my fingers around his legs and back, pressing the ball of my thumb into his chest and torso. Even though his face stayed neutral and he hardly moved at all, I couldn’t help but notice a release of his strained muscles as he was finally able to release all the pressure off of his injury. It’s okay to get help when you’re hurting. I couldn’t keep my brows from knitting together in concern. It pained me that he tried so very hard to be strong and independent. I completely understood where the impulse came from but I hated that he was in pain and toughing it out when I was happy to help. I sat with my hand propping him up for a few moments, wanting nothing more than a closer look, “May I pick you up?”

“Yes, fine.” His face was a little pinker than it had been, I was sure of it. Gently, I settled him across the platform of my fingers, his right leg placed carefully along the length of my palm with his heel balanced on my wrist. The ball of my thumb remained in his lap with a looser grip as I drew him up to the level of my eyes.

He sat there stiffly, not allowing himself the luxury of relaxing fully into my hand. I wished he’d stop being so uptight but now was not the time to fight him on it. Still, as I looked him over, I felt an immediate swell of pride expand my chest and warm my face. I didn’t realize he’d been watching me with equal attention to detail, until he spoke, “What is it, Natalie?” His voice lacked its usual defensive edge. He was genuinely asking.

“I just think you’re absolutely incredible. You are literally the bravest, most unhinged person I know.” Did his face get a little redder? All he could manage as a response was to roll his eyes, “No, I mean it! You looked at someone over ten times your size and without hesitation were just like, ‘Yeah I can take him’. Who does that?!” The tiniest ghost of a twinge of a smirk uplifted the corner of his crooked little smile. There you are, Alexander, the real you underneath it all. “When I really think about it, I can’t even be mad at you. You are one badass little motherfucker. Don’t ever change. Okay?” I rubbed my thumb across his chest, as he begrudgingly nodded, the smirk cracking into a half smile, while he rested a hand over the bed of my thumb nail. I admit, I felt the blood in my veins pump a little faster, “We can all stand to learn a thing or two from you on how not to take other people’s bullshit.”

“I hope you plan to take copious notes after all this.”

“Oh, it’s a must!”

He cleared his throat and shifted in my hand, sitting himself up a bit straighter, his gaze took a moment to land as he settled, clearly preparing to speak in greater earnest, “I suppose… I feel at least a modicum of remorse… for staining his otherwise high quality sweater.”

I had to slap my hand over my mouth to keep from cackling out loud, “You’re such a bastard! Of course all you care about is his fashion sense!”

Alexander was smiling too, as he pressed against my thumb, emphatically gesturing to the bedroom far off to his right, “What?! It’s the only redeemable quality about him! Did you expect me to lie for the purpose of overt flattery? Have you met me?”

Just then we heard the opening of a door down the hall, as the man in question began to re-emerge. I stroked the side of the little man’s head with my thumb, as I cocked an eyebrow at him, as if to say “Do you want to be put down?” He nodded brusquely, and I did as I was asked, gently lowering him and tipping my hand so he could find his feet before letting go entirely.

As the footsteps approached ever nearer, I leaned down and whispered so only Alexander could hear, “You know, if you wanted a sweater like that all you had to do was ask, you didn’t have to destroy his!”

“Says the woman who still hasn’t made good on her promise to fulfill my modest suit requests.”

“Three piece Italian suits and silk ties are not modest. Even for someone of your size! I’m saving up, alright? Get off my back!” I prodded him playfully in the chest as he batted at my fingertip.

In a moment, Charles would be standing before us, and there would begin a new matter as we all awkwardly tried to reset and start over, each much more aware of the others’ feelings on the whole situation. But for now, it was just the little blonde devil and me and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Was it weird that I was kinda excited to watch him lose his shit at us again? Not that I had any intention of provoking him, but it wasn’t far from feasible that we’d inevitably do something to offend him. It just made me proud to watch him unapologetically stand up for himself, even if I got caught in the crossfire. Looking down at him now, I couldn’t imagine my life without him. Had his opinions towards me shifted in that direction at all? Or was I a target for spite and disdain like my friend approaching the table? I didn’t think so. At least, not to the same degree. The way his eyes had softened when we were finally alone, the way he’d asked me to hold him in the most passive aggressive roundabout way possible… I thought deep down in that little stone heart of his was a warm spot for me, even if it was microscopic in size at this point.

Maybe, just maybe, with a lot of effort I could fan that ember into something bigger. But who knew? There was only so much room in a chest the size of my finger tip.

#Well that was a rollercoaster #Stranger danger!#Angry little man he attacc he protecc #g/t related #g/t writing #g/t community #giant/tiny #g/t angst #a fraction of justice #g/t #size difference #gt

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thealphavoidofficial · 8 months

Text

For @thatweirdocryptid

Lil Cryptid OC for that thing you were making :)

Meet The ShapeShifter

A 8ft tall, genderless Cryptid, who can be described as ‘something only seen in nightmares’

It is a Fear-Eating entity capable of reading minds and turning into your deepest darkest fears or a nightmare beyond comprehension and feeds off your negative emotions, it’s favourite emotion being FEAR.

It lives in the dark part of the forest where all the bad stuff is, but at times, if your lucky, can be found in the tree lines by the Town, they are rather shy creatures but if approached it will attack you, both mentally and physically, if you are alone it will see this as a hunting opportunity and will try to feed off your fear. So the most important rule is to NEVER BE ALONE, however If there is more then one hunting you and your group it is advised to leave the area as quickly as possible.

There are often signs you are being stalked by a ShapeShifter.

1. Cold Temperatures - the presence of a ShapeShifter causes the Temperature near it (exactly 12 feet) to become colder then normal.

2. Breathing - you will often feel breathing on your neck, but you turn around and nothing is there, this is the ShapeShifter trying to spike your adrenaline levels before giving you the final scare.

3. ‘Hallucinations’ - you may see strange horrific creatures out of the corner of your eye, that means it is trying to get your guard up, if you are seeing these ‘Hallucinations’, that means it is about to attack

Once it has successfully scared you it will proceed to suck that fear out of you and feed off it, it will almost feel like a fraction of your life is being sucked out of you, and you will pass out not long after, once done it will leave you passed out where ever you are, before someody finds you, however this could leave you vulnerable to other dangerous Cryptids, and not many ShapeShifter victims are found due to this.

A way of avoiding such a fate is simple, do not show any forms of fear, ShapeShifters can sniff you out from a Mile away, if you are simply not afraid it will loose interest and leave you be.

Something you should NEVER DO Is physically attack a Shapeshifter, for it will takes this as an invitation to attack you back, a touch for a touch. NEVER PHYSICALLY TOUCH A SHAPESHIFTER.

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queen-scribbles · 1 year

Note

8 and/or 9 for Ves/Kurt :3

Private/Public Kiss which ran way, way, WAY away with me and I'm not even a little bit sorry :3

Wonder

---

The reflection staring back at Vesper conveyed many things well, but not the grin stretching practically ear to ear. She used it to check her earrings were hanging straight, that the lace trimming the neckline of her dress wasn’t smushed. She took a calming breath--Almost time--but even the reflected grin didn’t shrink by a fraction.

Her grin was more accurately reflected on Síora’s face as her friend slipped into the room. “Oh, carants, you are lovely!” She crossed the room to take Vesper’s hands in hers. “I am honored to be included in this day.”

“Of course. You’re the closest thing I have to family,” Vesper said, squeezing her hands. “You’re one of the people I want here most.”

Síora squeezed her hands back before letting go. “I have a gift for you.” She reached in one of the small pouches on her decorative belt and pulled something out to press into Vesper’s palm.

It was a small charm on a woven cord, oblong rather than the triangular ones several of their group had dangling from their gear. The cord was long enough to be tied as a belt or sash, carefully woven with soft blue and sunny gold thread, two small soft grey feathers bound to the edge.

“It is for good fortune,” Síora explained as Vesper turned the charm over in her hands. “And for long-lasting happiness, which is what I wish for you, both of you, more than anything, my friend.”

Vesper embraced her with fiercely whispered thanks, then tied the cord at the lower edge of her bodice so the charm hung down among the folds of her skirt. “Like so?” She smiled at Síora’s affirming nod, checked her hair and earrings one last time in the mirror, running her fingers over the carved bone necklace to make sure everything was perfect. It still reflected only a pale shadow of her smile.

“I believe the time is near, carants,” Síora said, all but beaming. It made Vesper wonder how much of her own anticipation showed. “Are you ready?”

Vesper pressed her fingers to the necklace, thought briefly of each mother who had passed it along to her, and nodded. “Oh, very much so,” she confirmed with an exhilarated smile. More than I have been for anything in my life.

---

It was only a short walk to the throne room, which was a good thing. Vesper struggled enough with maintaining a decorous pace as it was; had the distance been any longer she may have broken into a sprint.

When the doors opened to admit them, Vesper made sure to survey the chamber, taking in all the gathered faces. She knew once she found one in particular, her focus would be unwavering. Best to commit what she could to memory before it all faded to the background. She tried not to dwell on the one face she wished was there but wasn’t. (Constantin would have been insufferably excited and the ghost of his enthusiasm was keenly felt.)

Her gaze traveled over familiar faces--friends, allies, Mother Cardinal Cornelia, who was officiating, and then slowed to a halt on Kurt.

She’d been right; everything else faded into mute, vague periphery when she saw him. He hadn’t shaved--which she’d been hoping would be the case--but his outfit was the nicest thing she’d seen him wear by a mile. Crisp white shirt, dark trousers, and a jacket so deep blue it made the piercing grey of his eyes stand out even more than usual. Eyes locked with hers and saying a thousand things neither of them would ever manage to put into words. It suddenly didn’t matter there was a watching crowd, or Mother Cardinal Cornelia standing ready, or anyone else. There was no one in the world save her and Kurt.

--And Síora, gently tugging Vesper back into motion, as her feet had stopped with her gaze. Vesper stumbled slightly, her grin somehow going even wider and eyes still locked with Kurt’s as she let Síora guide her forward. She wondered if his heart was pounding as hard as hers.

The last few steps to join him seemed to take an eternity, but finally she was close enough to slip her hands in his. Síora gave her arm a final squeeze, sent them each a small smile, and stepped away.

Vesper shifted closer to Kurt, relishing the brush of calloused fingers against her skin, gentle as he always was with her. She squeezed his hands, not even attempting to fight her grin. There was a small charm peaking out of his pocket, very much like the one Síora had given her.

“Ready?” she murmured. She knew a crowd this size wasn’t his preference--it wasn’t hers, either. But with everything the island had been through in the past year, people needed something to celebrate. Governor de Morange had been been very persuasive in her suggestion the wedding of New Sérène’s legate was just such an occasion. So even if they would both have been fine doing this in a no-name chapel with only their friends as witness, here they stood.

“More than,” Kurt returned, eyes shining and voice rough. “Vesper, you...” He cleared his throat and held his silence as Cornelia started speaking.

Vesper was blind to the audience, listening just enough to the Mother Cardinal’s words to follow the ceremony, her gaze, her heart, her focus locked with Kurt’s. The joy and anticipation cresting, building, overflowing in in her chest was too much to do otherwise. It was all she could do to keep her breathing steady, to maintain decorum and not start bouncing on her toes as they worked their way through the dictum, the blessing, the vows. And from the twinkle in Kurt’s eyes he wasn’t doing much better.

As they drew near the ending pronouncement, Vesper’s excitement overruled her sense of decorum and she did start bouncing. Just a faint rocking up on her toes, but she was sure at least some of the guests noticed. She didn’t care. Say it, say it, say it-!

The second the words “man and wife” left Cornelia’s mouth Vesper surged forward. She and Kurt released each other’s hands in the same moment, newly exchanged rings catching the sunlight as his arms wrapped around her waist and hers around his neck. They were both grinning as their mouths met in a fervent kiss. Vesper’s feet came off the ground and Kurt shifted half a step back to compensate balance for her enthusiasm, a laugh rumbling in his chest.

(She was pretty sure she heard chuckles from her friends as she found her footing, dipping briefly backwards with the continuing kiss. Let them laugh.)

They finally broke apart, foreheads resting together as they absorbed the polite cheers of their guests. Kurt’s thumb caressed her cheek, tracing her jaw, the boundary of her mark, her cheekbone.

“You seem excited, wife,” he said softly, the gentle teasing not masking the wonder in his eyes. The moniker and the tenderness with which he uttered it sent a thrill shivering down her spine.

Vesper shifted her hand to cup the side of his face. “Can you blame me? Husband,” she murmured, emotion making her voice squeak and waver on the word.

Kurt’s smile was at least the match of hers. “No, I can’t,” he said huskily, hand sliding to the back of her head, fingers digging into her hair.

He kissed her again and and the incandescent joy made it hard to breathe. Harder still to remember they still had an audience.

---

The next few hours passed in a whirl, full of celebration, well-wishes that ranged from polite strangers to enthusiastic friends.

Vesper, of course, knew every one, even if the mere thought of remembering all those names and faces made Kurt dizzy. He didn’t know how she kept it straight. Just one more way in which she was a wonder.

It was almost enough to make him wonder if this was real. He was more than content that she loved him(for some reason), that she wanted him for whatever time they had.

That she’d brought up and carried through making that time the rest of their lives was so far beyond what he’d ever dared hope or dream for his life it left him a bit breathless. There was an ache of emotion sitting tight in his chest Kurt could neither explain nor dissipate. Not that he wanted to. He ran a look over the room, bodyguard’s instincts impossible to stem, even at his wedding. If anything, they felt sharper than usual.

“Looking out for our-- well, your Legate?” Vasco asked, strolling over to lean against the wall near where Kurt stood.

“I did just swear an oath to defend her with my life beyond even the former contract,” he replied dryly. “And some habits can’t be laid aside.”

“No aspersions, Captain,” Vasco said with a genial laugh, half-raising his hands. “It’s a lucky thing you can have each others’ backs in the face of any storms you may face.”

“Given her role, I think storms are inevitable,” Kurt said, watching Vesper smile as she conversed with the governor. “But those storms haven’t met her.”

Vasco chuckled. “You have indeed married a force of nature, my friend. The gentlest one I’ve encountered by far, but even a gentle stream can wear away hardened stone.”

Kurt nodded, too entranced by Vesper’s smile, the curve of her jaw, the warmth in her eyes, to look away or do more than grunt a noncommittal reply. Even to her praises being sung.

Vasco took it in stride, smile tugging his lips as he commented, ”With the way you’re looking at her, it’s a wonder you’re not joined at the hip,” His eyes twinkled. “Though I suppose that part comes later, does it not?” He grinned at the flat look Kurt sent him, and leaned in closer, tone conspiratorial. “Much as she thrives on this, I don’t think your wife would mind if you stole her away from us.”

If that moniker ever stopped sending warmth buzzing through his veins, it would very likely mean he had perished. “You think?”

“It is all but a certainty,” Vasco said, head tipping toward Vesper, who was now watching them converse. Her grey eyes were doe-soft as they met his, and Kurt couldn’t resist temptation any longer, decorum be damned.

“I’ll take your word,” he muttered, and then was moving. In keeping with Vasco’s nudge, Vesper met him not quite halfway, her hand settling soft on his chest as his arm wrapped around her waist.

“I’m tired of sharing,” he whispered in her ear.

She hummed a small laugh and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “So am I.”

“Well, then,” Kurt pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. “I think it’s time we take our leave, sweet excellency.”

“Well past,” she agreed, and they started moving for the door.

---

It wasn’t half as hard as Kurt feared to extricate themselves from the affair. Half the guests seemed to be expecting their departure, and it was very likely the celebration would continue a good few hours yet even without them. Kurt didn’t care what the did so long as it left the palace standing, he didn’t care about anything save Vesper all but dragging him up the stairs.

“Is it wrong that I’m pleasantly surprised today went off without a hitch?” she asked with a small laugh when they reached the landing.

“So long as it’s pleasantly,” Kurt chuckled. “Considerin’ how mishaps and excitement have dogged our heels since we stepped off the ship, I’d say no.”

“Good. I thought I might be getting cynical,” Vesper said lightly, heading for the bedroom door. “I had very high hopes for today, and they’ve been met in every respect but one.”

The twinkle in her eye made it the most obvious bait Kurt had ever seen, but he took it anyway. “And what respect would that be?” he asked, halting so close he was in her space.

She paused with her hand on the knob, mischievous smile pulling at her lips that all but undid him. “I haven’t gotten to kiss my husband nearly as much as I’d like.”

He laughed softly and tipped up her chin, thumb brushing her lower lip. “Lucky that’s easily remedied; it’s the one area I’d hope to exceed expectation.”

She opened her mouth to reply just as he kissed her, whatever she meant to say lost in a soft groan instead. Kurt’s fingers slid back toward her nape, tangling in her hair.

Vesper leaned into the kiss, one hand curving to the side of his neck, the other pressing against the doorknob until it twisted under the pressure and they stumbled into the room.

“Well, there’s our mishap for the day, I suppose,” she giggled, her hand now clutching his jacket collar for help holding her balance.

Kurt exhaled a laugh and rested his forehead to hers as she closed the door and leaned against it. “If that’s the worst we have to contend with, I’ll gladly take it,” he murmured, tracing her jaw with his thumb. A worry that had sat at the back of his mind for weeks now finally felt safe to voice. “Not to cast a dour mood over the happiest day of my life, but I am surprised your uncle didn’t try anything to delay or prevent this.” He arched a brow when she rolled her lips. “Assuming you wrote him?”

“Oh, I would never be so remiss as to not inform the Prince D’Orsay of my intentions,” Vesper said innocently, leaning her head back against the door to meet his eye. “I wrote him of my plans to wed, who I intended to marry and why. Made it abundantly clear I was declaring a planned course of action, not seeking permission or his blessing, then ensured the letter was safely aboard a ship headed for Sérène.” Her thumb traced an arc against his cheek, her eyes sparkling. “A month ago.”

In other words, the letter probably hadn’t even made it to the continent yet, let alone her uncle’s desk.

Kurt’s shoulder’s shook with laughter he couldn’t contain. “You are...” A minx. A marvel. So good at these games. “A wonder.” He kissed her forehead. “I love you so much.”

“And I you.” Vesper laced her fingers together around the back of his neck. “Which is why I refuse to let anything, even my uncle, stand in the way of us being together. I love you and I want you, political machinations be damned.”

It still made it hard to breathe when she was so plain about it. “Someday I’ll figure what I did to deserve you,” he managed.

“And I’ll happily reel off my list until it sinks in,” she returned quietly, sliding both hands forward to cup his jaw. “You are enough, Kurt. Just you.”

“Vesper...” When she said it like that, looked at him like that, it made him want to believe it as strongly as she did. He kissed her again, hoping it would convey gratitude better than his fumbling words ever could.

She pressed into the kiss as well, hands clasping his collar to give her leverage. His hands settled on her waist to hold her close, neither wanting to break for more than quick gasps of air until the need became too great.

Vesper stepped back first, gasping a deep breath and taking a moment to compose herself before she looked up to meet his gaze again. “Now, since we’ve established my uncle won’t be bothering us for a while... I think we’re both wearing too many clothes,” she said, twinkle in her eye. “Though I must say, you clean up nicely, Captain.”

Kurt chuckled and brushed back wisps of her thoroughly mussed hair. “Not half so well as you, Excellency,” he countered, kissing the bridge of her nose.

“Almost a shame it has to come off,” she teased, hands trailing down the front to pick at the fastenings.

He slid one hand around her back, ran a finger up the lacing of her dress with just enough pressure to watch her bite her lip. “It doesn’t have to, if you’re enjoying it so much,” he murmured in her ear.

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find other occasions for you to dress up,” she whispered back, nimble fingers unhooking the top few even as she spoke.

Kurt smiled and stole another kiss, shrugging out of the jacket as she undid the last fastening. Vesper’s now-free hands returned to cradling his jaw as she kissed him back. They lingered a moment before she withdrew and turned to allow him easier access for unlacing her dress.

“Which also means other occasions for this-” Her breath caught at the kiss he brushed to the curve of her neck as he started to unwork the laces. “Kurt-!”

A smile tugged his lips as his finger fingers tugged the laces. “Yes, wife?” he murmured against her skin before repeating the kiss.

Vesper’s shoulders rolled and a hum of pleasure escaped her. “....don’t dawdle.”

That was never a risk with her, even less so today, as his heart felt ready to beat out of his chest, but he couldn’t resist. “Quite the change of tune,” he whispered, even as he reached the bottom of the lacing and the dress fell loose.

Vesper pivoted, wriggled free of the soft purple gown, which she draped haphazardly over a chair near where his jacket had fallen. “As I said, there will be other occasions, husband.” She looped an arm around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. “For many things,” she murmured against his lips.

She was right and he knew it and it was the final nudge Kurt needed to sweep her up in his arms and head for the bed. While he would acquiesce and not dawdle too much, he did want to enjoy this. Even knowing she was right--there would be many more occasions, for many things.

A whole lifetime of them.

#queens fic #kiss prompts #vesper de sardet #greedfall kurt #ves/kurt #greedfall #now the original batch is done i can start plotting for all the NEW prompts in my inbox xD

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chetsetradio · 9 months

Text

My Impossible List

My name is Chester, and I'm sure you've seen this list of things before. Something about it being different from a bucket list (and it is different than a bucket list) -- look, I got my inspiration from Thomas Frank, who got the inspiration from Joel Runyon.

In my own words, the impossible list is a continuous list that inspires growth and documents strides in personal development. A helpful tool that can aide in motivation. Not a set and forget, but a thoughtful pondering, organized list, and an updating system, where you log when you've achieved something and what you're going to do next. Like most people, I've set my list up with different categories.

Current Focuses:

Honestly, getting my life together. I've been slacking in health overall, and I need to start taking care of myself both physical and mental health-wise. Trying to hyper focus on learning new skills, mindfulness, and fitness/health.

Last 5 Completed Goals:

*crickets* Well of course there's going to be crickets right now, this list has just come to fruition. I will update with my most recent goals as I complete them!

LIFE GOALS

-> Own a home in my hometown -> Own a place somewhere else, too -> Borderline Personality Disorder symptoms in remission -> Create and maintain a healthy relationship with a significant other -> Make enough money through passionate endeavors (video games, YouTube, writing) that I only have to "work" work part-time -> Become a published author -> Pay off my debt -> 30k Student Loans -> 15k Car -> 9k Credit Cards -> Learn about stocks and investments -> invest money

PROFESSIONAL GOALS

WORK

-> Stay at the library for as long as possible (5yrs pension starts, 10yrs student loans are forgiven, 15yrs max vacation time) -> Earn blue in 2 categories in yearly review -> Earn blue in majority of categories in yearly review -> Earn blue overall in yearly review

YOUTUBE CHETSETRADIO

-> Set up channel -> Upload 5 10 25 50 videos -> Gain 10 25 75 100 250 subscribers

CHETTERBOX TALKS

-> Set up channel -> Upload 5 10 25 50 videos -> Gain 10 25 75 100 250 subscribers

OTHER

-> create and publish a video game

FITNESS & HEALTH GOALS

-> Lose 100lbs -> Walk to work 3 days a week for 1 month 6 months 1 year -> Work out everyday for 1 month 6 months 1 year -> No take out for a month straight -> Learn how to cook -> Add more fruits and vegetables to my everyday diet -> Walk 5 miles -> Run a mile -> Run a mile in less than 9 minutes -> Participate in some sort of race (run?) -> Swim 500 free with no problem -> No soda for 1 month

CREATIVE GOALS

-> Fill up a sketchbook with art that I'm proud of -> Release an EP -> Participate in NaNoWriMo 2024 -> Self publish a novel -> Traditionally publish a novel -> Re-learn how to play the Alto Saxophone -> Learn how to play the Trumpet -> Learn how to play the Cello -> Learn how to play the Flute -> Learn how to play the French Horn -> Learn how to crochet -> Follow a short story writing prompt daily for 1 month

SKILLS & EDUCATIONAL GOALS

-> Learn how to code -> Make my own website -> Program my own video game -> Learn Music Theory -> Beginner Intermediate Advanced -> Learn Logic Pro -> Beginner Intermediate Advanced -> Learn Japanese -> Beginner Intermediate Advanced -> Learn German -> Beginner Intermediate Advanced -> Learn Korean -> Beginner Intermediate Advanced -> Learn ASL -> Beginner Intermediate Advanced -> Go back to school for my Master's -> Learn fractions, pre-algebra, and algebra

HABIT GOALS

-> Do my morning routine for 1 month 6 months 1 year -> Do my nighttime routine for 1 month 6 months 1 year -> Walk Pancake once a day for 1 month 6 months 1 year -> Meditate once a day for 1 month 6 months 1 year -> Journal daily for 1 month 6 months 1 year

TRAVEL GOALS

-> Visit every state in the US ( 3/50 ) -> Visit every state park in the US -> Camp in a different state -> Visit Greece -> Visit Japan -> Visit Korea -> Visit the UK -> Visit Ireland -> Visit Finland -> Ride a bullet train -> See the Hollywood sign up close in person -> Visit Stephen King's hometown ( Portland, Maine )

VIDEO GAME GOALS

STEAM

-> Perfect achievo 5 10 15 25 40 games -> All achievements in Hades -> All achievements in Slime Rancher

PLAYSTATION

-> Platinum 5 10 25 50 games

XBOX

-> Perfect achievo 5 10 25 50 games

NINTENDO

-> Finish Pokémon Sword -> Finish Pokémon Arceus -> All moons Super Mario Odyssey

GOAL INSANITY

-> Sky dive -> Bungee jump -> Meet a celebrity I like IRL -> Go to five different amusement parks -> Get a PHD -> Teach a class at a University -> Forever a student (so many degrees) -> Earn enough money to retire early

#self improvement #ftm #impossible list #trans man #life goals #habits #habit tracker #better future

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deathbyseventeen · 1 year

Text

As the World Caves In

pairing: Dino/Chan x f!reader

genre: post-apocalyptic, romance/fluff, angst | zombie!au

word count: ≅3.02k

series: To be Together

chapter warnings: lots of allusions to death and dying, makeshift weapons

summary: The world ended on a Tuesday in November, days after Halloween, when the sun was less than an hour away from setting. Chan had just left his dorm’s building, late to his History of Dance 136A lecture, when it happened. You hadn’t been as lucky on the day the world began to crumble.

a/n: hello again :) take a chance on this fic, maybe? oh boy.. oh boy oh boy oh boy

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{intro} + {3 days since the end} + {7 days since the end} + {10 days since the end} + {20 days since the end} + {24 days since the end} + {27 days since the end} + {a month since the end}

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3 Days Since the End

Chan doesn’t want to understand why leaving the safety of his dorm room is an option, to begin with. But then his stomach rumbles again, and he’s forced to eat the last granola bar he has (after days of saving it) as he tries not to hurl at the thought of what he has to do.

Minutes later, he’s taking a peek out of his window, moving the curtains only a fraction of an inch as if the zombies littering the fields outside were capable of looking up and noticing the living body studying them from the fifth floor, fearfully. Then he sees it, the football stadium a mile away, and he knows he has to go.

Without letting the curtain fall shut, he twists around to look at the jar of strawberry jam on the half-wall kitchen counter. Empty. Cleaned of even the jam that usually sticks to the sides of the jar.

He looks out the window again and studies the living dead he can see surrounding the building. He starts to count and then stops. There are too many, and the more he counts, the more he feels like the granola bar is about to make its way back out the way it went in.

It only takes Chan ten minutes to tape a knife to a long, black umbrella he owns (a knifebrella, he names it without noticing), grab the football helmet that wound up in his possession after a frat party he doesn’t remember much about, and empty the duffle bag he usually took to his dance lessons. It takes him another ten minutes to take down all the furniture he had stacked against the door for protection.

He thinks about the plan the entire time.

He’ll go down the emergency exit, prop the door open with a brick he knows other students had left there to sneak back inside after curfew and take the long way around to the football stadium. He’ll have to go towards campus first, away from the stadium, where there are probably more zombies--he forces himself to breathe at the thought-- but there'll be more places to hide than just running across the fields and parking lots he knows don’t have any places to properly hide.

Getting to the booster room would be easy. He nods to himself. That room was always open on account of the university’s teams always having the snack shop open for business--since the field is always open for students to work out there or the gym only a street away. Then he’d retrace his steps and go the long way back to his building. He’d know where to hide this time around.

It’s when his hand is finally on the doorknob that his thoughts force him to stop. Oh, why couldn’t he have gone grocery shopping on Sunday when he always does? It’s routine. ROUTINE. Maybe he can just scavenge the other dorms, start on this floor before making his way up and then down, or maybe start below first and make his way--

His phone buzzes in even staccatos in his pocket.

💕💕hannie’s fools 💕💕

Jeonghan Check in when you get there [12:32pm]

💕💕hannie’s fools 💕💕

Seungkwan Don’t die, loser [12:32pm]

He stares at the texts for a minute, then another one comes in.

💕💕hannie’s fools 💕💕

Hoshi Stay safe, chan! [12:33pm]

Chan’s resolve is fixed, though he still believes he’s walking into death’s arms.

It takes him a few more seconds to open them, type out a response and send it. Then, his hand is on the doorknob again, and he’s slipping past the open door.

💕💕hannie’s fools 💕💕

Chan Thanks. Will do. Leaving now. [12:34pm]

☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡

Sweat runs down Chan’s face as he opens one of the side doors belonging to the football stadium. It’s the only entrance he’s found that isn’t overrun by the living dead. He hopes as he pokes his head inside that the halls aren’t overrun like the other surrounding areas outside the stadium are.

He’s lucky. He doesn’t see a single one down the expanse of the hall, and he wastes no time to go inside, jamming a wad of paper into the latch port so it won’t click as he closes the door as gently as he can.

He’s only ever been to the stadium twice before, once for mandatory Freshmen orientation and another time for an extra credit assignment. Still, he manages to find the snack bar without any trouble, no wrong turns, and no living dead.

He’s surprised but doesn’t dwell on it, lest he overthink it and turn his luck sour.

There are some snacks, protein bars, and water bottles in the display case under the register and cold hotdogs in the rotisserie on another counter behind it. It takes him less than a second to decide to leave those behind and head for the booster’s storage room instead. It’s down the next hall, if he remembers correctly, and he does. He finds it unlocked and hurries to stuff as many bags of everything they have.

Nacho chips, protein bars, peanuts, hot dog packs, buns, noodle cups, and water bottles on top of water bottles. It doesn’t take long for Chan’s bag to fill.

Soon enough, he’s pushing the door open and scrambling to raise the knife end of his umbrella.

Two zombies, the skin of their faces starting to sag like those cartoon popsicles with deformed and melting faces, greet him with clicking moans. As one lurches forward, Chan drives his knife through its forehead, then uses the heel of his foot to push it off. The other one moves forward just as he does this. But Chan manages to dive past it and run down the hall he came from.

He’s getting ready to turn down the corner and run all the way to the exit he came from when he’s forced to a stop. He hears not one or two but a jumble of clicking moans. He turns the corner slowly, holding his knifebrella up like a sword, and holds back the urge to hurl.

Down the hallways he needs to go through, as far as he can see, the living dead have now invaded. Though, they don’t seem to be aware of his presence yet.

Nodding to himself, he gives himself a moment to breathe, then takes three steps forward and stops. He checks to make sure none of the zombies have noticed him, then takes another couple of steps forward and repeats the process again.

Chan doesn’t understand. He really doesn’t. But, no matter how hard he thinks about it, he can’t come up with an explanation. It’s not like zombies could just magically appear. He didn’t want to think about the specifics of a zombie, but still, they weren’t magic.

He’s halfway across the stadium, halfway to the door, when he freezes. It’s not the smartest move, he’ll beat himself up about it later, but he’s panicking. The sound of footsteps pounding against the stadium’s linoleum floor echoes loudly from his right, and he knows, though he doesn’t realize he’s even thinking about it, that those zombies, the ones roaming the hall behind him and those ahead of him, can hear it too.

Then, a terrified scream erupts from the same direction. Then a second one. Then a third, long and just as horrible, and he knows there’s no chance in hell these zombies are going to ignore them.

His head turns when a fourth scream turns into a fifth and becomes a constant symphony of panic. Down the hall, he can see it perfectly, a horde of zombies are cornering someone into a row of vending machines.

Chan’s breath catches in his throat. Behind him, the living dead are beginning to approach him. He can feel it. The hairs on his arms start to bristle, and he can feel the goosebumps littering them. He knows he has to go. His time is running out.

He’s already taken a step forward when his heart stops, and he realizes that he may just be the stupidest man alive. What with all the zombies around, it’s probably not much of a contest. But, still, if there was, he’d be a strong contender.

It’s fleeting, but Chan catches a quick glance of your face, and he knows he can’t leave you behind. You’re not friends. He’s never said a word to you before, nor you to him, but he’s seen you before. He knows he has. You’re in one of his courses, Art Forms in History 12B, if he remembers correctly. It’s impossible now. He’s moving before he even knows it. He can’t leave you behind. He’d never be able to forgive himself, and your face and your screams would join his cacophony of nightmares.

“Get up!” Chan screams as he runs toward you. “Get up! Run!” He wields his umbrella like a bat and swings it against the zombies nearest to him. It’s only when he’s closest to you, and the remaining horde of zombies are tightening around you, that he opens it like it’s begun to rain, finally using it as a makeshift shield to get closer to you and shove the zombies away.

He runs up to you, ready to pull you to your feet and run, when a flash of cold runs down his body. You’re slumped against the corner of the vending machine, passed out, and unresponsive. The blade of your hockey stick has broken off and lies at your feet.

When had you stopped screaming?

He thinks back as quickly as he can--he can hear the zombies behind him regaining their footing-- and there’s no time. Chan pushes his duffle bag behind his back and picks you up, slinging you over his shoulder. He looks at the hall from which he came. There’s no going back. There are too many zombies heading in his direction from there. He turns forward instead and, using his umbrella as a shield, runs as fast as he can. The entire time hoping he'll be able to find an exit that isn’t overrun by the living dead.

☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡

Chan stares at your sleeping--he hopes it’s sleeping-- figure under the covers of his bed from the door of his bedroom. It’s been an hour since you passed out against a corner of a row of vending machines, zombies moments away from welcoming you into their midsts, and ten since he managed to sneak his way back into his dorm room.

His heart pounds in his chest as he catches glimpses of his kitchen table pressed against the front door from the corner of his eyes. He tries to distract himself, thinking about the others. He really needs to thank Wonwoo later for getting him that long black umbrella as his going away present Freshmen year. It had seemed weird then, a large umbrella with reinforced ribs so it wouldn’t turn inside out when the wind was too strong, but it was certainly paying off now. Mingyu, too, he realizes, for the set of knives he’d gifted him in hopes that it would encourage him to learn to cook his food instead of surviving off of takeout.

It doesn’t work. He can still feel his heart pounding in his chest as he begins to wonder how he can thank them.

His phone buzzes on the lowest of strengths, in his pocket for the nth time in the last hour. Still, it takes him another minute to take notice of the rhythmic buzzing against his thigh. Then, as if doused with a bucket of iced water, he’s forced back into reality.

There’s a soft click as he closes the door of his bedroom, then turns and goes to settle on the couch. He throws the rag he used to clean the blood off your face and arms into the kitchen sink and pulls out his phone after, on his way there.

There’s a single notification bubble on Chan’s home screen: You have 32 unread messages from 💕💕hannie’s fools 💕💕. A second later, it changes to 33, and before he can slide his thumb across the screen to unlock his phone, it changes to 36.

💕💕hannie’s fools 💕💕

Seungkwan Chan. Seriously. Where the hell are you? [04:02pm]

Seungkwan You need to answer us now. [04:02pm]

Hoshi Chan. [04:02pm]

Seungkwan Where the fuck is Chan? [04:02pm]

They come in quick succession, one after the other, giving him no time to scroll through the other messages. Ten more come in while he continues to stare at them blankly, unable to process what he’s looking at as they blur together (even when they stop for a second).

They go unnoticed until he remembers what he’d been doing and squeezes his eyes shut.

When he opens them again, the messages are still coming.

💕💕hannie’s fools 💕💕

Seungkwan Chan you little shit, answer us. [4:05pm]

Seungkwan We can see you’re online. [4:05pm]

Jeonghan Chan? [4:05pm]

Seungkwan All the messages say read by Chan [4:05pm]

Hoshi Chan, what’s going on? [4:05pm]

He grimaces and finally types out a quick answer.

💕💕hannie’s fools 💕💕

Chan I’m here. Got a little busy. Got home uh twenty min ago [4:06pm]

Chan Forgot to check in [4:06pm]

The response was practically instantaneous.

💕💕hannie’s fools 💕💕

Seungkwan MOTHERFUCKER [4;06pm]

Seungkwan WE THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD [4;06pm]

Vernon Wait. Hold up. No *we* didn’t. [4:07pm]

Jeonghan That was all you, Seungkwan. I told you he was alive [4:07pm]

Seungkwan Only because YOU would have brought him back to life just to kill him again if he wasn’t [4:07pm]

Hoshi Chanie? What happened??? You said you’d check in when you were safe [4:08pm]

Chan chews on his lips absentmindedly, thumb twitching over the screen until he sighs.

💕💕hannie’s fools 💕💕

Chan There was a little incident [4:09pm]

Jeonghan Incident? What do you mean incident? [4:09pm]

Seungkwan What did you do? [4:09pm]

Chan grimaces. He doesn’t want to tell them, but his actions are quickly catching up with him, and he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he doesn’t tell someone.

💕💕hannie’s fools 💕💕

Chan I saved this girl from my art history class from becoming dead food [4:11pm]

Seungkwan Oh my god [4:12pm]

Hoshi But you’re okay right? [4:12pm]

Chan Yeah yeah I’m good [4:12pm]

Seungkwan You actually did something good? I need proof. I don’t buy it. [4:13pm]

Jeonghan Well? What happened? [4:13pm]

Chan There were a shit ton of zombies when I came out of the booster room. I heard a scream from one of the hallways I was passing. Turned out to be this girl I have in class. I couldn’t just leave her guys. I could see her. I could see the zombies closing in on her I couldn’t [4:15pm]

Cheol It’s alright, Chan. Breathe. You’re ok. You did the right thing. [4:16pm]

Hoshi Chan the brave! Chan the hero! [4:16pm]

Vernon Soooo… [4:17pm]

Seungkwan So??? [4:17pm]

Vernon Well??? [4:17pm]

Seungkwan ???? [4:17pm]

Vernon What else? What’d you do? You don’t just save someone magically [4:18pm]

Hoshi Chan???????? [4:25pm]

Though his screen had blacked minutes ago, his gaze still rested on it. He could feel it, the rage that would be unleashed on him if he told them the truth of what he had done. The truth of it all was beginning to dawn on him. It hadn’t before, if only because that hadn’t been a priority, though it should have been.

He cast a look behind him at his bedroom door and wondered if he’d overlooked any sounds while he’d been speaking to the others. But when silence was the only thing that greeted him, he looked down at his phone again and thought of what he’d say.

And how he’d say it.

💕💕hannie’s fools 💕💕

Chan I used the knifebrella to get rid of the zombies closest to her. By the time I got to her, she had passed out at the corner by the vending machines. I think she’d panicked so much she passed out. It’s like her body gave up. She even had this broken hockey stick with her. I don’t know. [4:31pm]

Unlike before, minutes passed by before he got a response.

💕💕hannie’s fools 💕💕

Seungkwan Hold on. Did you just say she passed out???? [4:34pm]

Jeonghan She passed out?? [4:35pm]

Vernon What the fuck [4:35pm]

Cheol Did you fight the entire hoard yourself?! How did you save her if she was passed out?? She couldn’t have helped [4:35pm]

Seungkwan Don’t tell me you ditched the food, you freaking dumbass [4:36pm]

Chan I didn’t [4:37pm]

Seungkwan Then what the hell did you do??? [4:37pm]

Chan I slug her over my shoulder and ran [4:38pm]

An influx of messages came then, draining him of whatever battery he had been recharging internally.

💕💕hannie’s fools 💕💕

Seungkwan SLUGGED HER OVER YOUR SHOULDER?!?! [4:38pm]

Hoshi You did eaht [4:38pm]

Jeonghan YOU CARRIED HER?! [4:38pm]

Cheol TELL ME YOU DIDN’T [4:38pm]

Seungkwan TELL YOU HE DIDNT WHAT?!?! [4:38pm]

Cheol TELL ME YOU DIDNT DO IT CHAN [4:39pm]

Seungkwan WHAT DID HE DO?! [4:39pm]

Chan I don’t know what you’re talking about [4:40pm]

Cheol WHERE IS SHE NOW [4:40pm]

Chan Still passed out on my bed [4:42pm]

There was an influx of messages again, and Chan felt like he already knew what they were saying. So, he locked his phone and placed it on the coffee table away from him.

He could still see the messages as they came in, though he didn’t really register them, glossing over them as language lost meaning.

Then, just as his phone grouped them all together into a single notification bubble of unopened messages, a single text seared into his brain.

💕💕hannie’s fools 💕💕

Wonwoo Oh, he’s dead isn’t he [4:44pm]

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7 Days Since the End

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