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ohtheewhorer · 10 months ago

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Imagine you’re Dale “Longlegs” Kobble’s Chubby!Virgin!FWB whom he slowly corrupts (3.3k words)

So here’s what I’m thinking—follow me on this…

Warnings: Graphic Description, Shameless Smut, little bit of fluff, Desperate Sex, Passionate Sex Loss of Virginity w/ Blood, if you squint incubus!Dale, Religious Guilt, Blasphemy, stalker longlegs, yandere longlegs, Horny Reader, Loss of Innocence, Dark themes, Chubby Reader

A/N: I wrote a lot more than I expected as I always do 😩. Please enjoy my long ass blurb/fic about this hot evil old man. You can also read my fic on ao3 (I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE IMAGES USED)

You’re the preacher’s daughter who just wants some freedom from your overbearing, shotgun-toting, bible-wielding father. You’re innocent in appearance but if people really got to know you they’d know that you’re really a mischievous, horny little minx with a yearning for something dangerous; anything opposite to your sheltered life.

Then, one day, you run into Dale while visiting the local hardware store with your father. At first, you’re unnerved by his presence. After all, Dale is…unique-looking to say the least; his graying thin long hair, his filler plumped lips and face with skin that has an unnatural blotchy alabaster coloring to it which made him appear quite ghoulish yet somehow ethereal. But then there are those intense blue eyes of his that seemed to sparkle with joy the moment you entered his line of sight.

Dale made the bold move to approach you knowing your Paw was only a few distances away—something no man ever had the guts of doing in this small town—only to simply congratulate you on your upcoming 20-something birthday. You shrunk under his towering stature, eyes darting anxiously around in search of your dad. You weren’t sure whether you should be afraid of the fact that—regardless of it being a small town—how did some random stranger know your birthday? Or maybe you should be afraid for him considering he could very well be a victim of your father’s wrath. And all because the strange man dared to do the kind gesture of wishing the preacher’s precious girl an early birthday.

You even pitied the man enough to throw many discreet hints that he needed to back the fuck away from you before it got ugly. But the ever eccentric and bizarre Dale didn’t take any hints and ended up singing to you an old classic rock song that your worldly uncle would probably be able to identify.

Your father came around the corner and he had questioned Dale of his intentions while speaking to you, very well aware that his pretty princess had many suitors who vied for your hand in marriage. And you knew your father well enough to read his judging eyes as they scanned Dale’s entire presentation, scowling that a man like him would ever think he might have a chance regardless of if Dale ever had the thought to pursue you.

And Dale, oh, Dale…he’d speak broken sentences and barely audible words, euphemisms and epithets, riddles and rhyme and your increasingly frustrated father would curse him in biblical verses and claim that he’d spoken the ‘devil’s tongue’. And the moment your Paw calls out the lanky male as a ‘satanist’ instead of disproving his claim—preventing any potential small town witch hunt—Dale, instead, sends him a botched-lipped cheshire cat grin ending the interaction with a chilling line, “Your ignorance won't save you when the shadows you've denied finally come to claim you."

Goosebumps arise on your supple skin, staring up at the man with both fear and admiration. No one’s ever stood up to your father that way. Everyone’s always having to walk on eggshells around him, not wanting to be seen as a delinquent in the eyes of the lord’s appointed servant. But Dale has done it with that high-pitched playful lilt in his tone and that bright smile on his face. His courage alone was enough to spark your interest in him. He was dangerous and you wanted nothing more than to experience him.

And sure you could find plenty of pretty boys and bad boys in town that would happily sneak around with you and give you a taste of the wild side that you so craved. But you didn’t want just “a taste” nor did you wish to hide your deeds. You want to be very loud and proud with your degeneracy.

And so you made the effort to see him again, going to the hardware store within the next few days because it’s all you knew of him. You’d gone at least 5 times already, at varying times in the day; all alone, too, much to your father’s chagrin. Just when you planned to give up on your 6th visit, while turning to leave you could hear the familiar flowery voice from behind you that has you swiveling in his direction in elation.

He’d found you and so the rest was history. It didn’t take long after to build an intense bond with him that teetered the line of being sexual at times, especially once you got past the stage of learning each other’s name. He doesn’t usually leave his shabby house much so it made sense that you’ve not seen him around before. Though by his own horrifying admission he’d been observing (stalking) you for a while now and had already known about you. You’re just grateful to have met him; a man unafraid to push boundaries.

With him, you didn’t have to feel guilty for wanting to do things beyond what is appropriate within your conservative community. For one, you got to hold his hand that’s a lot more than you’ve ever done even while attending college. And when you asked to go even further like hugging…he lets you hug all over him (though mostly for his own selfish reasons since he’s as touch-starved as you). To most outsiders, doing these things aren’t much of a big deal but to you, a beginner hedonist, it meant everything. You want fun and Dale promised you this with every interaction; upping the ‘depravity’ as you went.

But then one day, Dale suggests to you that he could show you fun beyond the tantalizing ‘indirect kisses’ via sharing lollipops or the occasional lap sitting with added knee bounces for effect.

“You want to take my virginity…on my birthday…as a gift to me?” You ask incredulously. It was scummy of him to even think such a thing would ever be considered a gift. And from a man like him no less; much too old for you and quite terrifying to look at from certain angles. And yet…you felt a gush of your slick soak your panties. You needed therapy. You need to find God again. This is sick!

But it’s sooo damn tempting.

“I only want to open your mind to many great pleasures, Angel. Is that not what you told me you’ve been seeking?” Dale says, reaching a hand over the console of his car to rub one of your nylon-clad voluptuous thighs. “Be a good girl for me, just two more days… and it’ll be an even special day for the birthday girl.”

You tense a little, feeling his hand traveling higher up your thigh. “Do you think I’m ready?”

“That’s for you to decide, silly.” He giggles.

“I think I’m ready. I-I’m ready.” You repeat, giving him a struggling smile that falters when your breath hitches again. His hand is kneading the meat of your thigh.

“Oh, I’d bet these legs around my head would feel like just the loveliest hug.” He sighs dreamily.

You tilt your head in confusion. “I couldn’t. I wouldn’t want to hurt you like that.”

He laughs some more, running a calloused hand down your cheek and admiring its youthful elasticity. “You could never hurt me, angel. But I get the impression you have no idea what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

“I don’t think I do. I’m sorry,” You say, batting your long lashes and flashing your alluring doe eyes up at him. “Could you show me what you mean? I’d really like to know, pretty please.”

“In due time, love. You’ll have to first show me you can be a good girl when I ask you to be.”

“How do I do that?” You nudge your face deeper into his open palm, sliding his fingers over the edges of your jaw until they’re close enough to your pouty lips. Using your tongue you drag one long nimble digit into your mouth, suckling lightly on the tip. He has an earthy taste to him that you quickly grow addicted to.

Dale pulls his finger from your lips, webs of saliva connecting your lips to it. He smiles, wagging his finger side to side. “Tsk, Tsk. That was very naughty, angel. Being a good girl means you’ll have to listen to the sky father’s rules again. That means no premarital activities. You’re not allowed to touch yourself either. Wouldn’t want you to be a sinner before the big day? I’ll give you a pass for today although with some limitations. But then it’s 2 days of being on the nice list, missy. You’ve got 3 strikes if you lose them…you’ll be punished. And I beg you not to get on the naughty list or I won’t be making you sing pretty for me like the sweet birdie you are.”

“Why? Why should I go through all that trouble for you?” You hate having to bottle up your desires again when the excitement’s only just begun.

“Because it’ll make your blood much more pure for the sacrificial ceremony,” He jokes, then frowns when you place his hands away from you, turning in your seat so you’re not facing him. Dale leans into your ear, whispering. “You’ll know what real freedom is once you’ve had a taste of it and then it’s ripped from you like an anticipated treat stolen right out of a dog’s mouth. And if you cower from the dark side, back to your sheltered life, you’ll always feel as if you’re on the brink of going…FERAL!” His hand slaps against the window beside your face making you jolt up and stare back at him in terror. Your chest rises and falls, hyperventilating as he stares intensely into your eyes, his face is only a few inches from yours.

“So…I give myself to you and I’ll be free?” You question timidly. “Like you?”

Though he wears a big crooked smile, his eyes betray him as a tear runs down one plump cheek. “Why, of course, angel. You’ll be free…like me.”

You cup his cheeks, swiping your thumbs over the lumpy skin before placing your mouth over his. Your first real kiss! With a man you knew, at most, for a week. It’s a tender yet short kiss as you relish in the feeling while you can. His lips are slightly chapped and uneven in texture yet you moan into it because it felt so right. You pull away before you get too carried away and do something devilishly sensual like sticking your tongue down his throat.

You anxiously gauge his reaction. Is this strike one?

His eyelids slowly flutter open before looking back into your eyes again. He hasn’t experienced this kind of softness in forever. People are usually afraid of him and he’s used to being alone but having such a young beauty as yourself having just an inkling of interest in him blows his mind farther than any fucked up shit he’s seen and/or done.

But Dale’s just not capable of understanding these intense feelings he has for you and it makes him feel as if he’s losing the little control he has in his life. So he’s always jumping to the default of trying to creep you out as some sort of power move he possesses; proud that he can make people fear him by his actions aside from just his bizarre appearance. So now he’s just running his thick wet tongue along his puffy lips after your shared kiss, playing up the perverted gesture which should’ve been enough to make your skin crawl but you always match his freak.

Leaning over the console to invade his space once again, you touch the tip of his tongue faintly against yours just before he darts it back into his mouth. And if he were to give you a strike for that wicked move, it’d be so worth it.

Dale’s such a little shit, though, because he’d for sure make you watch some vintage porn that he owns and it’s not at all vanilla. It’s rough, dirty, pearl-clutching, thigh-clenching stuff. Choking, spitting, biting, bondage… it’s all so violent to a wide-eyed beginner as yourself. Your heart’s pounding a mile a minute, squeezing Dale’s arm and willing yourself not to look away or he’d consider it a strike.

And the next two days are even worse with little devil Dale making sure he tortures you through the agonizing march of time. He’d refrain from touching you at all, avoiding you like the plague. You’d feel like you’re going crazy like he’s some form of drug to you because all you can think of is him. Even while you sleep at night it’s as if his presence lingers around you. Now you’re beginning to understand why your father says that lust is a poison to a god-fearing mind. You’re convinced that Dale has sunken his gnarly sharp teeth into you, infecting you with his toxic venom so that you’ll never come out the same again.

When your birthday finally arrives, Dale knows for sure that you’ve officially surrendered yourself to him. He could tell it in the way you waited on his words hand and foot, wanting to follow whatever it is he asked of you with no question. He could make you up and break you down into the perfect little subservient minion of the dark side and you’d gladly sign away your life. It would be that easy.

He’ll take you to his special place, down in his dimly-lit basement, where there’s no chance of anyone hearing you scream. He’d start by making you cum with his mouth first just as he’d promised and you’re seeing fucking stars! The man feeds on you like he’s been starved for centuries. He didn’t even have the decency to pull off your cute lacy pink thong you’d carefully selected at some lingerie store for him to marvel at. He just flips up your pleated skirt, pushes your panties to the side and just digs in with an eager mouth and even eager tongue. Those same puffy lips you’d kissed the other day now sucking and making out with your own puffy lips while he gets his wish of you wrapping your pillowy thighs around him.

You’d offer to get on your knees and suck his cock the way you’d seen in one of his films but he’s too wired, wanting to fuck you right then and there on his dingy worn couch.

When he pushes into you, it’s as if you’re being split in two; surprising because, based on what you saw in those nudie films, Dale’s isn’t as big as those ones. It’s actually quite short, deliciously veiny with a hook. Girthy, too. As thick as coke can. Dale Kobble proves the theory of girth over length by a long shot.

He’s positioned you on your back to where your legs are pressed deep into your shoulders and now-exposed chest since Dale, in his impatience, lifted your shirt over your ample breasts and pulling them out of the cups of your bra to watch them jiggle and knock against one another other with each drive of his hips.

This man has zero patience for anything actually. He’d just push into your tight heat in one fell swoop and you’d gasp out loud, feeling the faint tearing within you. He’d pull himself out a little to marvel at the blood and cream coating his dick, gathering some on his finger to paint your sweet lips. And you’d flick your tongue between the spaces of his fingers wanting to drink in the essence and you feel so fucking powerful.

Once he begins his pace, it’s erractic, unrhythmic, desperate, and awkward but you fucking love it so much that it has you whimpering and clawing at his back. You don’t care how little experience he has, you never want him apart from you.

Dale would want to be as close to you as he could, falling over your masterpiece of a body with his full weight. He’s penetrating DEEP. He wants to give you all that dick no matter if it isn’t much. He’s all sweaty, his belly sticking to yours from all the worked up perspiration. You enjoy the feeling of his softness against yours, appreciating his torso (when you could at least) for the ‘dad bod’ built that it was.

He’s hoarsely gasping, whispering the dirty filth in your ear, caging you between his arms. You can’t push him away even if you tried but you’d be crazy to ever want to, squeezing your legs around his body in a death grip.

He’ll let his face fall in between the valley of your breasts, inhaling you. He doesn’t care to breathe anything else so to suffocate this way, would be an honor. High-pitched sobs and breathless whispers against your skin indicates to you that it’s been so long for him since he’s felt a warm body against his own. The more he thinks about how lucky he is to fuck such a tight, greedy cunt as yours it make him turn into an inconsolable mess; crying, spitting, and kissing all over you.

You’re no better, whining and mewling with reckless abandon. Your hands are anywhere clawing at his boringly pastel colored shirt, running your hands up his shirt to sink your nails into the sides of his ribs until you're settling on his long hair. With every bruising thrust, you tug hard on his hair earning pathetic “unh”’s and “ah”’s from him.

Whenever either of you muster up the strength to pull away from each other for just a few centimeters, you’d sloppily crash your lips together, swapping spit or devouring each other’s tongues then swallowing down your moans from each other’s mouths like passionate lovers who’ve known each other for years.

Dale feels like just as much of a virgin as you with how much you’ve reduced him to a sniveling lovestruck fool. He can already sense his approaching climax, not wanting to blow his load before you get a chance to experience bliss.

He’ll bring a finger to your clit, specifically the finger that dons that fucking ring so you could feel the cool metal against your sensitive button. And obviously, he won’t be nice about it, rubbing harsh, rapid circles on it until you fall apart. He’s not stopping until you’re sobbing—begging…you’re absolutely delirious. Your back arches off the couch cushions, eyes rolling into the back of your skull like it’s an exorcism. You can hardly breathe. This is exactly why orgasms are called ‘little deaths’ because you must’ve died and now you’re reborn again offering yourself to the soulless world.

Before you could protest he spills his sticky, hot cum inside of you. Your hands would instinctively try to push away but your legs keep him there, wanting every last fucking drop of Dale’s seed. The man’s got some big kahunas so you’re going to overflow with his essence.

And without a doubt, for all the money in the bank, Dale will scream “I love you” as he cums until he’s just whispering it while shuddering against you.

After it all, you’ll both lay together in an entanglement of limbs, cuddling in the afterglow while seesawing between either cleaning up or going for another round. Though considering you could feel him stirring up inside you again, you think it’ll definitely be the latter.

He’ll truly surprise you with your actual gift. A beautiful gold necklace with an amethyst pendant (and a secret tracker you don’t so that he’ll always find you everywhere even if you ever try to run away from him). And, of course, he wouldn’t forget to gift Paw something for having his part in the creation of you, so he mails him your bloodied lacy underwear as a reminder of the lost innocence of his precious girl.

Oh, and aftercare definitely involves those large hands of his giving you nice belly rubs and soft scratches along your skin with the occasional peppered kisses along the pudge. Then, you’ll eventually both come to the conclusion that you're each other’s anchor whether for better or much, much worse.

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severelystrangewriter · 2 years ago

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Text Messages (Flufftober 2023 Day 9)

Pairing: kenma kozume x female reader

WC: 909

Warnings: a little cursing

Summary: a wrong number situation leads you to become friends with kenma

Note: i literally had NO clue what to do for this one, but i think i'm pretty satisfied with how it turned out

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It was late at night and Kenma was in the middle of a somewhat boring video game when his phone dinged, alerting him of a message. He paused to check, figuring it was Kuroo, but furrowed his brows at the unknown number. He read the message curiously and there was a picture attached.

Unknown: I completed the cosplay! How do I look? :)

Kenma blinked in surprise at the picture you sent. You looked good, really good. You were dressed in a sailor moon cosplay. Your makeup was perfect and your outfit looked like it was taken straight from the anime.

There was only one teensy problem.

He had no clue who the hell you were.

Kenma: the cosplay looks great, but um… do i know u?

Unknown: It’s (Y/n)? Who is this?

Kenma: my name is kenma

He sent a selfie as proof.

(Y/n): …

(Y/n): Well that’s embarrassing. I guess I put in the wrong number

Kenma: sorry

He expected the conversation to be over with. But you surprised him when you sent another message.

(Y/n): Weird question, wanna still chat? I’m bored >~<

He blinked twice, then hummed in thought before typing out his reply.

Kenma: i don’t see why not

Over time, texting you became a daily occurrence. You both talked about anything and everything- your lives, your dreams, games, all of it. You sent each other memes and pictures of cats and he found himself looking forward to your messages.

He found out you were a second-year like him, and you went to Karasuno. In fact, you were involved as a manager of the boys’ volleyball team. He told you he was a setter for Nekoma and you thought that was pretty cool, even joking that maybe one day your teams will play against each other.

“Hey, can I borrow your phone? Mine’s dead,” Kuroo said one day before practice.

“Yeah sure,” Kenma handed over his phone and continued playing his nintendo.

Kuroo thanked him and it fell silent as he sent the text to his mom telling him to use Kenma’s phone to get ahold of him. As he waited for a response, Kenma’s phone dinged and a notification popped up that caused Kuroo to furrow his brows.

“Who’s (Y/n)?”

Kenma nearly dropped his nintendo upon hearing your name. With eyes wide, he reached over to snatch the phone back, but Kuroo was too quick and moved away from his friend. He hadn’t told Kuroo about you for the very specific reason of not wanting to be teased.

“Hey she’s pretty cute,” He commented, clicking the picture you sent.

“Give that back!” Kenma shouted.

Not expecting such a visceral reaction out of his friend, Kuroo connected the dots rather quickly, “Oh my god, do you have a secret girlfriend?”

This caught the rest of the team’s attention rather quickly. And they watched as Kenma struggled with Kuroo over the cell. Kenma’s face grew hot at the accusation.

“N-no! It’s not like that!” He vehemently denied.

“Why are you getting so defensive then?” Kuroo asked with a teasing smirk, “You like her~!”

“I never thought I’d see the day when Kenma Kozume has a crush!” Yaku called out.

“Shut up!” Kenma hissed, finally succeeding in taking the phone back.

His cheeks continued to burn when he saw the picture: it was just you showing off your makeup but you looked so cute as always that it made his heart skip a beat.

“Woah dude, your girlfriend’s hot,” Yamamoto commented, looking over his short friend’s shoulder.

“It’s not like that!” Kenma repeated, clutching the phone to his chest to hide it.

“You mean she’s single?” Yamamoto asked with a hopeful tone.

Kenma glared at his teammate, who shrunk away from the harsh look.

“Nevermind.”

Just then, Coach Nekomata was calling for their attention, telling them that the practice was starting.

~~~

(Y/n): ARE YOU GONNA BE AT THE CAMP

Kenma: why are you yelling

(Y/n): BECAUSE I’M EXCTIED

(Y/n): *ECXITED

Kenma: you still spelled it wrong

(Y/n): FUCK

You sent several crying emojis and he smiled at your overdramatic response.

Kenma: to answer your previous question, yeah i’ll be there :)

Kenma: we’re on our way now

(Y/n): YAY

Kenma chuckled and continued to text you.

“Let me guess, your precious (Y/n)?” Kuroo’s teasing voice brought Kenma out of his thoughts as he was nudged lightly by his friend.

Kenma rolled his eyes, but he nodded anyway, “Uh-huh.”

“So when are we going to get to meet her?” Kuroo questioned.

“She’s going to be at the practice game,” Kenma explained quietly, “She’s one of their managers.”

“Really?” Kuroo’s eyes lit up, “You must be excited then.”

Kenma bit his lip and looked out the window to avoid his friend’s gaze. He had to admit that he was pretty excited, but he was also getting nervous. It would be the first time he would be seeing you in person, and the thought was nerve-wracking. Would you guys click like you do through a screen? What would happen if you didn’t? Would you stop talking to him?

Kuroo picked up on Kenma’s growing stress.

“Relax, it’ll be fun,” He ruffled Kenma’s hair affectionately, ultimately putting a stop to all the worrying thoughts.

“Yeah,” Kenma agreed in that soft tone of his.

He continued to gaze out the window, wondering about you. And he wondered if you were thinking about him too.

#haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #kozume kenma #kenma kozume #kenma x reader #kenma kozume fluff #kenma kozume x reader #x reader #kozume kenma x reader #fanfiction #flufftober #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyu #kace writes

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lainiespicewrites · 1 year ago

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Electric summer Ch. 2

Here is chapter 2! I love everything about this story so far it’s so fun to write and I adore writing Sy! It was so weird I was modeling this after my time at camp and I literally got a brochure from them in the mail today😂 maybe the universe is telling me something 👀

Anyway enjoy! Comments, likes and weblogs are encouraged!

Summary: Sy and ofc are united as camp co-counselors and spend the day catching up and reminiscing!

Warnings:none? Just cursing a lil

Link for Pt 1 if you missed it 🥰

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I blinked a few times in disbelief. “How, I-I…aren’t you…” I stammered trying to string a sentence together, still lost in the puzzle my brain was trying to work out. How was he standing here in front of me right now?

“Come here,” He laughed. Throwing his arm around my shoulder and pulling me into a tight hug. I was still for a moment still in shock about the situation but I pulled myself out of it and hugged him back squeezing just as tight.

“I can’t believe it,” He chuckled. “This had to be Rebecca’s doing.” He said.She was an old counselor of ours. She was with us our last summer together.She also happened to be camp director now and in charge of assigning cabin groups. This was surely not a coincidence. Sy’s arms were still around me. Admittedly I wasn’t ready to pull away just yet either. I was afraid he’d disappear and this would all be a dream. My mind was playing tricks on me or something.

“How are you here?” I finally strung the question together, pulling back to look up at him. Did he get taller? I could have shrunk but I swear he got taller. “I mean aren’t you in the military?” I asked, obviously confused.

“Take a walk with me?” he asked. “I’ve been dying to see this place again.” He added. I nodded and we finally let go of each other. It may have been years since we’d seen each other but I could still read him. Logan was social. He loved to talk, he was extremely expressive and attentive. Right now he’s quiet. And pensive. When we walked away from the cabin he shoved both hands in his pockets staring straight ahead. Whatever had happened it was difficult for him. Like the night on the lake in the canoe. When he told me he wouldn’t be coming back to camp. It’s why he wouldn’t look at me. He knew or was afraid that after all this time I could tell when something was hard for him.

He hated coming off as weak. It’s why he was so competitive. When the boys played ultimate frisbee his team always won. In high school when he played football he was the quarterback. He had to be the best. The strongest. The leader. But not with me. He told me that once. He told me even before our summer fling, back when all we were was best friends excited to spend the summer together. That’s why he liked me so much. He could let his guard down with me. I didn’t understand it then. But eventually I figured out exactly what he meant. And I saw it in him now. Even when we’d only been reunited for minutes.

We walked from my cabin and through the park out to an open field outside the woods. There was a path that ran alongside it. If you took it left it would take you to the lake down to the dock to swim, if you followed it further you crossed a bridge and you could go sailing or take out a kayak or a canoe. If you took the path right it was a hiking trail. It had its own forks in the road one leading to a nature preserve and a small shelter where the camp housed some exotic reptiles and other animals. And one that led to a ropes course and a rock climbing station. We didn’t take either path. Sy stopped walking and stared off at the trees. I came up next to him and gently put my hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to tell me, we don’t have to talk about it, whatever it is. I’m just really glad you’re here.” I spoke softly. I felt his hand over mine on his shoulder and he turned to me with a sad smile. He let out a deep breath before he spoke

“I’m retired from the military. Uh, discharged. Medically.” He stared at the grass when he spoke. I could hear the shame in his voice. It broke my heart. I slid my hand off his shoulder and over his back soothingly. I didn’t say anything. He knew I was listening. “Last April, I was leading the boys into a raid. We’d been waiting on this for weeks. Trying to find these guys. Somehow they got tipped off that we were comin’ and they were ready. One of my boys was being attacked. Enemy came out of nowhere. I jumped to cover him. Told him to run up stairs with the rest of the guys to secure the building. He was alright. His chest plate protected him. But I got shot in the leg with 2 bullets. I managed to stop the attacker. But I had to be carried out of there. They sent a Med-line, it's a helicopter.” He explained. I nodded and let him keep talking.

“I was in surgery that night. They almost thought I was gonna have to lose it. But the Dr was able to get the bullets out. They uh, didn’t think I’d walk right again. So.. I was discharged from the military not long after. They transferred me to a civilian hospital for physical therapy…” He trailed off.

“How is it now?” I asked softly. He finally looked up from the grass. My voice pulled him back to reality.

“I ain’t gonna be runnin’ in the Olympics anytime soon but. Normal. Aches sometimes when the weather gets weird or cold. Probably coulda went back but no one knew how long it would take. Or if…if I’d ever get better.” He said.

“They should’ve known,” I said, “nothing stops Logan Syverson when he’s got his mind made up.” There it was. That genuine smile I’d missed all these years.

“Guess they don’t know me like you do,” He chuckled. “Enough about me, it’s been 7 years darlin what have I missed?” he asked, his hand hovering over my lower back guiding me toward the left path. We started to walk again toward the lake.

“I wish I could say you missed a lot but,” I shrugged. “I graduated. Went to school and graduated again, and at the end of this summer I’ll finally start my first job with the schools.” I explained flatly. It was nothing compared to the things he’d done and what he’d seen.

“Hey, graduating college is a big deal. I’m proud of you! Child Psychology, right?” He asked. I stopped walking and just stared.

“You, remember that?” I questioned. He laughed and threw his arm around my shoulder pulling me into his side.

“Of course I do. It was all you talked about our last summer together. You were nervous about getting into the school you wanted. I admired that because you were only a junior. I was going into my senior year and I’d never even thought about that shit.”

“But you knew you were going into the military, you didn’t have to think about that.” I argued.

“Maybe, but you were so smart, you are so smart, you had it all figured out. I was just following what everyone else in my family did. Now that I’m out, I kinda wish I’d had some other plan. Something I knew I wanted to do to fall back on.” I nodded. I understood what he meant. It must be hard for him now. The things he’d aspired to be in his adolescence had come and passed. He had to reinvent himself now. Start over. I couldn’t imagine how scary that must feel.

“You’re smart too Logan. You’re quick in a crisis. You’re logical and level headed. You’re great with people. And and from what you’ve said you’re an incredible leader. I have no doubt you’ll figure it all out soon.” We had wandered some more, now we were walking along the lake. Or what we knew as the beach. When they’d built the camp they carved out the shore and laid down sand. Leaving it more like mini beach than a country lake. I followed Logan out onto the dock. He turned to me and smiled.

“I think coming back here this summer was exactly what I needed.” He said. I smiled back giving his arm a gentle squeeze… and trying not to dwell on the fact that his muscles had gotten incredibly larger.

“It’s funny,” I answered. “I always remember it being the other way around, you giving me pep talks and encouraging me to take risks.” He chuckle the air between us becoming lighter as I watched his smile form into a playful smirk.

“That’s because you were always trying to chicken out. You were a little scaredy cat.” He laughed. I pouted. And smacked him in the arm. “Ow,” he teased as he fake soothed his arm.

“I was not!” I argued. He shook his head.

“You were too!” He challenged. I rolled my eyes resting my hands on my hips.

“Name one time,” I groaned. He eyed me with that same smirk on his face with an eyebrow raised looking at me curiously.

“You really wanna do this? He teased. “Alright, you did this to yourself, night hikes.” He stated. I frowned.

“Oh that is so not fair!” I objected. “You know I hate the dark. That doesn’t count!” I argued.

“Mhmm, rock climbing.” he deadpanned. I scoffed.

“I suck at climbing I have like no upper-body strength I wasn’t gonna embarrass myself infront of everyone.” I defended. He shook his head again trying to hold back a laugh.

“You’d never done it before. You had no idea if you were bad at it or not!”

“Okay, well… it was really high.” I pouted.

“My point exactly,” He chuckled.

“That means nothing!” I said. He groaned pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You wouldn’t even jump off the dock into the water that first summer! Because the water was deeper. You knew how to swim.” His shoulders were shaking with laughter. “You remember how I got you to do it?” He asked.

“Yeah you literally picked me up threw me in off the dock! I wound’t call that being “kind and encouraging.” I laughed emphasizing the last bit.

“It worked,” He smirked.

“It was traumatizing.” I countered.

“ I caught you blushing when I grabbed you, I think you liked it.” He winked. I glared at him crossing my arms.

“You have no proof,” I scoffed. He smirked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“You wanna test that theory?” He raised an eyebrow taking a step closer to me. My eyes went wide and I started to back up slowly.

“Logan,” I said softly. He looked me over that cocky grin plastered on his face.

“I’d start runnin’ if I was you.” He challenged. I backed up a little more, holding my hands up in defends.

“You don’t have to do this.” I reasoned with him. He let out a low chuckle.

“I think we both know I do.” He said. “Last chance darlin’” He teased. I turned on my heal quickly back toward the beach. Only getting in a few long strides before he had his arm around my waist. Damn his long legs. It doesn’t help that mine are so short either. I squealed as he lifted me off the ground in his arms.

“No! Logan please!”

“I warned ya, told you to start running sooner.” His voice was deep in my ear as he carried me to the end of the dock and I wrapped my arms around his neck for some sort of safety net. “Would you look at that.” He smirked, looking down at me in his arms. Bastard. Of course he was right. After all this time he still had the same effect on me.

“Oh shut up!” I rolled my eyes. Which was a bold move for someone in my current position.

“You’re blushin’, after all this time, I still get your heart racing.” He rasped.

“My face is red because I was running, and it’s ..it’s warm out here.” I argued.

“You took 3 steps, you weren’t running,” He smirked. “You’re just too stubborn to admit you still feel it.” He whispered against my ear. I felt hot. And it had nothing to do with the sun glaring down on us on the pier. It had been 7 years. Did we even know each other anymore? And…he ..he left. That hurt so bad. What if he leaves again. I don’t think I could handle losing him a second time. We’re in totally different parts of our lives than we were then. But at the same time… “Answer one thing for me, all this time, did you see anybody else? Let anyone else in? I don’t see a ring on your finger.” He raised an eyebrow looking down at me intently. I swallowed hard and swatted at his chest.

“Put me down Sy!” I whined. He jostled me in his arms threatening to drop me in the water.

“You want down?” He smirked. I squealed, wrapping my arms tighter around his neck.

“Logan, Don’t!” I chided. He chuckled, adjusting his grip under my thighs. He leaned in close. I could feel his breath against my ear, his beard tickling my skin.

“Tell me, I just wanna hear it. Did you wait for me?” He sounded like honey. The way his voice hummed in my ear. He always did. It had been so long since we’d stood this close, or been this close and I could feel myself still magnetized to him. It’s like he lit up every sense in my body. I had no choice but to follow his warmth and his chaos and his light. I never felt anything like it with anyone else.

“ Sy you know, I …” Before I could answer him he leaned forward and tossed me into the water. I screamed and heard him chuckle before I hit the water. It was still a little cold since summer had only just started. As I started to come back up to the surface I heard a huge splash a few feet away from me. Logan jumped off the dock with me. When he surfaced he swam closer and I splashed him. “You’re such an ass!” I rolled my eyes. He laughed, swimming toward the shore.

“I had to distract you. You thought I wasn’t gonna do it,” He smirked.

“Yeah I thought maybe you were like a decent guy now or something!” I scoffed.

“Aww come on honey, don’t be mad at me, you know it’s not really summer till we take our first swim.”

“Yeah I know,” I smiled.

We left the lake, soaking wet and headed back to our cabins to dry off. I couldn’t get what he’d said out of my head. I knew it was killing him to know. Why did he stop me? After drying off and changing into some dry clothes I hung my wet clothes and towel out on our cabin's little clothing line. I dug through my bag to find a new pair of shoes, because those were soaked too, and headed over to Logan’s cabin where he was waiting at the picnic table. I walked over and hopped up sitting on the table top. Something I’d made a habit of during my years at camp. And it followed me everywhere. I sit on my countertop all the time. He looked up from where he’d been writing in a notebook on the table and smiled.

“Feel better?” he asked.

“Now that my feet aren’t in squishy wet sneakers? Yeah much better, no thanks to you.” I laughed.

“Did you have fun?” He raised an eyebrow. I groaned.

“Yeah,” I muttered. He had a proud grin on his face.

“Well then you’re welcome.” He mused. I rolled my eyes and flickered my gaze down to his notebook.

“Whatcha working on?” I asked curiously. He leaned back looking down at the list one hand smoothing over his beard.

“Trying to remember all of the camp traditions. The games we played. Ice breakers things like that. Trying to set up a bit of a plan or a loose schedule before the kids get here tomorrow. I don’t know if the boys' cabins still do their prank war, but I’m bringing it back.” He said seriously.

“Ah yes, the infamous prank war, you were ruthless. But your cabin always came out victorious.” I giggled. His eyes met mine and he just smiled holding my gaze for a moment. I shook myself out of it before I could let him in too deep. “What else you got?” I prodded. He sighed. And his eyes went back to the paper in front of him, trying to hide the disappointment on his face.

“Uh, Just some of the group games we used to play, Red rover, capture the flag, the coed softball game. Shit like that.But I just wanna make sure we get everyone comfortable when they get here ya know? I always felt…”

“Safe? When we were here. Me too.” I nodded.

“Just wanna be sure everyone’s having a good time like we did. Whatever problems we were having back home, in our family, or friends, kids that were dealing with bullies, we left it behind. We didn’t tolerate anyone being left out. Just want that for our campers.” He said.

“You’re really passionate about this.” I added.

“Aren’t you, I mean, you loved this place as much as I did, … do.” He added. I nodded.

“Of course I am. I’m just really glad that you are too. I’m glad that my co-counselor is someone who loves and appreciates this place and the kids as much as I do!” I smiled. “I’ve got this book of icebreaker games. We can go through it after our counselor meeting. Find the ones we think are best fit.” I smiled. He nodded.

“Sounds great.”

Later that night after our meeting introducing and welcoming us all to camp and going over our rules and shifts, and after dinner we met in my cabin. We sat outside on the patio at the picnic table. We started flipping through the book and talking about each of the games. Some we had done when we were campers.

“Oh, here's a good one.” I said pointing to one of the pages. “Remember doing this one, ‘two truths and a lie’ we always had a lot of fun with that.

“I do! It was like being a cop trying to read a lie detector test. And trying to beat one. “He chuckled.

“You were good at it!” I laughed. “Like try me,” I nodded to him. He smiled, and cocked his head to the side thinking for a moment.

“Alright, I blew a tire going 90 down the highway last week. I shot my first gun when I was 10, or my brother broke my arm in a fist fight.”

“Jesus!” I laughed. “From the stories you told me about your brothers I wouldn’t doubt it. I know you like to drive fast but you take good care of your truck…I’m gonna say it’s the gun.” He shook his head.

“Nope, I broke his arm.” My eyes went wide and I tried to hold back my laughter.

“Your poor mother.” I giggled.

“She got used to it.” He smiled. “Your turn, see if you can fool me.” He said. I groaned. I never could trick him. He always knew. But maybe I could use this as an opportunity to answer his question back at the lake.

“Okay,” I nodded, “Uh, I have a short story published in a book. I..I’m still a virgin. I lost my phone on a cruise to Jamaica,” He looked at me quizzically, his bottom. Lip pulled between his teeth as his gears turned.

“There’s no way,” he finally spoke. “You’re not still a virgin. No way.” He added. I shook my head. My eyes met his.

“I’ve never been to Jamaica,” I said softly. He let out a shaky laugh.

“In seven years nobody.. Nobody’s tried?” He questioned.

“They’ve tried.” I said. “I tried.” I added. “I wanted to be over you. I tried to be mad at you, for leaving me. But I knew that was selfish. You didn’t leave me. Certainly not because you wanted to. You were fighting for me. For everyone you loved. I couldn’t be mad at you for that.” I admitted.

“I never intended to hurt you so bad. It hurt like hell leaving that summer.” He said.

“I know you didn’t,” I said. “When I went to college I tried so hard to put myself out there and meet other people, I went to a few parties. I made out on trashy frat couches. It was awful. I did go on a couple of dates. I convinced myself I had to. I was sure you’d moved on, found someone new. I liked them okay but it was nothing special. They weren’t… you.” I said. He nodded soaking in all the information I’d just given him.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me. To know that you were still thinking of me as much as I was thinking of you. I have to be honest with you. I slept around in high school. When we broke things off that summer I was just trying to shake it. I hate to say it but, I barely remember their names. But you’re wrong about one thing. I never found anyone, never had one serious relationship after that last summer. You said it darlin, they weren’t you.” He rested his hand on my knee softly caressing my skin with his thumb. I never thought. I’d be here again. At camp. With him. In this position all over again. I think somehow we were getting a second chance. I’m not sure I’m ready for that. But I’m willing to see what the universe has put right in front of me.

“Sy, all I wanted back then was to be with you. To kiss you. For you to be my first. I don’t know if I’m still the girl you knew then. If you still want this after all this time. I don’t know what I want, I’ve spent so much time trying to forget you and what this felt like I don’t know if I know how to do this anymore.” He saw the panic in my eyes. And his face softened. He reached up tucking my hair behind my ear his fingers resting on the back of my head, gently massaging with his fingertips.

“This is a lot, I know, it’s a lot for me too. What I want is the woman you are now. For us to learn how to be now. If it aint the same spark then maybe it’s not meant to be. But i’m not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth and let you go again. Not without saying we tried to give this a shot.” He said his eyes boring into mine My heart felt like it was overflowing with emotion. I nodded. It was all I could do. “There is one thing, we never got to do that summer that I can’t get out of my head.” He whispered.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“I never got to kiss you,” He stated almost breathless like it was a secret we’d been keeping for years. And a weight had now lifted off his shoulders.

“We never did, did we?” I blushed. He shook his head a gentle smile on his lips.

“It’s all can think about since I saw you again. That, and how you’re somehow even more beautiful.”

“Logan,” I blushed playfully shoving him.

“It’s true.” He said. I smiled.

“Well, are you gonna make a move or am I gonna have to make it for you?” Logan chuckled grabbing my waist to pull me closer and cupping my cheek. He leaned in his hot breath against my lips and…

“Hey you two!” Becca called from across the lawn. We jumped apart quickly. I could hear Logan groan no matter how hard he tried to hide it. “I just wanted to check in with you!” she said as she approached the cabin, “You settling in okay? Nervous about the kiddos or anything?” she asked. I shook my head.

“I’m a little nervous, not like I did much babysittin or anything,” Sy admitted. “But I’ve had plenty of practice with my brothers little rascals.” He laughed.

“Great!” She said. “Don’t be nervous, I’m so glad to have you guys back here, you’re our only counselrs this year that are camp alumni, and I always love having people that know the place well.” she smiled.

“It’s good to be back Becca! I never thought I’d see this place again!” I added.

“You know you’re always welcome!” She smiled. “Well I’ll leave you guys too it then, I’m so happy to see you two hear together again,” She winked. “Good night you two.”

“Well, she’s got impeccable timing.” Sy groaned. I giggled and squeezed his shoulder softly.

“This summers just getting started Sy,” I smiled. “I uh, better get some sleep, I was gonna get up early to decorate my cabin for the girls.” I said quickly. He nodded trying to hide his disappointment.

“Okay darlin’, I’ll see ya breakfast?” He asked. I nodded and turning and opening the door to my cabin

“I’ll see you then, goodnight Sy.”

“Goodnight Lainie,”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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joanofwaystar01 · 1 month ago

Text

you might sleep (but you will never dream)

“What greater power is there, than the power over life and death?”

Tom Riddle is the rising star in the spell damage unit at St Mungo's. When Harry Potter is admitted to his ward with only 6 months to live, he finds himself inexplicably drawn to his new patient.

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tags: harry potter/tom riddle, chronic illness, terminal illness, angst, no happy ending, hurt no comfort, friends to lovers, doctor/patient

note: pls enjoy my first contribution to the tomarry tag, also on ao3 as slaybestieslay946 (my old tumblr acc got shadowbanned).

There was a new patient in the ward.

Usually, Tom felt nothing when they brought them in. Yes, he was a doctor, the rising star in the spell damage unit. But that didn’t mean he had any of the caring qualities you would usually associate with his profession.

He had always thought that that was what made him so effective at his job. He was cold, clinical. He didn’t let messy feelings get involved in his work. He was all about the end result, the gold star next to his name when he saved the life of another patient.

But there was something different about this one.

It had only been a day, but Tom couldn’t stop thinking about him, sat there in that bed, so very regal, bright green eyes scanning the room ravenously, taking in every detail.

He couldn’t stop reading through his chart. Harry Potter. 21. Subject to a severe curse, origins unknown. Deterioration present in: heart, lungs, liver, kidneys. TERMINAL.

As much as Tom was drawn to Harry, the feeling wasn’t reciprocated. Everytime he did his rounds, the man shrunk under his gaze. It wasn’t embarrassment. Normally, when someone did that around Tom, it was because they were awkward, because they were attracted to him. Or, because they were scared of him.

With Potter, it was neither. His expression held disgust, and he acted like his skin crawled everytime Tom pressed two fingers to his wrist to check for a pulse. It was almost like he could see behind his mask, could smell the disdain he had for each patient under his care, no matter how he laughed at their awful jokes, or blushed at their compliments.

He knew what Tom really thought. He was sure of it.

At first he had assumed that he was just paranoid. Maybe he assumed everyone was unfeeling, and he had just happened to get it right with Tom. That was before his family came to visit him.

In fact, it was less family and more a whole village, most of them red-headed.

Tom was beside Harry when they came in, checking the heart-rate monitor on his finger when footsteps came pounding down the hall. He lifted his head to scold them, assuming it was some irresponsible nurses on their break. Instead it was a horde of people, all of them rushing towards his patient.

“Harry!” They exclaimed in unison, and Tom could do nothing more than watch as the man’s face lit up.

He backed away from the bed, but couldn’t bring himself to leave. Instead he just stood in the corner by the window, watching as Harry kissed babies and shook hands like he was some kind of celebrity. He had never even smiled in his presence before.

“Oh, Teddy! Come to see your favourite uncle, I see!” He said, as a young boy, probably about 3 were handed to him to sit on his lap.

“Molly, those biscuits you sent me really were amazing. I’m not flattering you, see you can ask Stan, and Nurse Jenny!” A laugh, “They were too good not to share, your baking always is!”

Tom had not even known there were biscuits around.

Eventually most of them filed out, and he was forced to move to a different area of the room so as not to look like he was purposefully watching. He fiddled with Deborah’s chart while trying to eavesdrop.

The only two left were a boy and a girl. The boy was part of the ginger-clan, meanwhile the girl had curly brown hair that she had just about tamed into a ponytail. They sat together for nearly an hour, whispering and giggling amongst themselves. Something about it boiled his blood.

Eventually, Tom could no longer help himself. He stormed over to them, but bore a placid smile outwardly.

“Hi,” He said as he approached, and they turned to face him, “I’m Doctor Riddle, it's nice to meet you.”

“Riddle. This is Ron and Hermione.”

They reacted to him in the normal way. A mixture of embarrassed attraction and awe at his status. He shook hands with both, and had to refrain from wiping his hands on his trousers afterwards. The ginger’s hands were incredibly clammy.

“It’s great to see that Mr Potter has such good friends to come and visit him, but I’m afraid I must ask that you leave now. You see, we serve dinner quite early here to accommodate our, ah, elder patients, if you know what I mean.”

The young woman in particular was very apologetic, standing up from her chair immediately and dragging the boy with her.

“Of course, we’ll be on our way. It was good to see you, Harry.”

He smiled in return, although it was a little weak, “Yeah. Same time next week?”

“Of course mate.” The ginger said.

Then they were rushing out the door.

As soon as they were gone, Potter’s face snapped back into its usual disgusted expression. In fact, it seemed even more extreme than usual. Clearly he was upset with having his friends kicked from the ward. Tom didn’t take it too much to heart.

The more he watched, the more he noticed just how bright Harry’s presence was. When he wasn’t around Tom that is. He always chatted with the nurses in the morning, and with the people on his ward. Even the terribly annoying Janet, who had been on death’s door for months and wouldn’t shut up about it, would get some friendly conversation from him.

He was someone who was unfailingly positive, and generous, always sharing out whatever baked goods ‘Molly’ had sent his way. More than once, Tom caught Jenny stuffing her face with something that smelled so good the canteen could never have made it.

Sometimes he was curious if Harry even knew what his chart said. If he was aware of that word at the end, bolded and capitalised.

Of course, he did. All patients knew what they said. But Harry just didn’t seem to mind. Even when he had no one to put on a brave face for, when Tom was the only one watching him through the window in the door, he was so serene. Just as regal as he had been on the first day of his admission.

It took Tom two weeks to strike up the courage to talk to him.

It was during the few hours when Tom had finished all of his official work, and would normally retreat into his research. The times when he didn’t have to deal with patients were his favourite.

But, instead, he sought out Harry. It didn’t take him long to find him.

He was in one of the communal spaces, setting up a chessboard. Perfect.

“Harry. Mind if I join you?” He asked, smiling as he made his way over.

He looked up, green eyes piercing into him. A shrug.

“Sure. Why not?”

Tom pulled an armchair over so that he could sit across from his patient, waiting as he finished putting all the pieces in their place.

Tom was white, so he had to go first.

“I don’t like going first.” Harry said simply.

Neither did Tom. He liked to feel out his opponent. Any decent chess player did.

He made a safe move, the king’s pawn to e4. He moved the piece with his hand. Harry did the same on his move.

“You play like a muggle.” The patient said.

“So do you.”

“Are you a muggleborn?”

Normally Tom would shrink away from this line of questioning. He didn’t like talking about his past. 7 years among the pureblood Slytherins had taught him to tread carefully regarding his lineage. But, for once, he felt no shame.

“No idea. Not a pureblood, though, that’s for sure.”

“You were raised by muggles then?”

“Foster-care. Went through families like no tomorrow.”

It was a feeble attempt at a joke. Harry nodded in response, but his face remained emotionless.

“That doesn’t shock you?”

He shook his head.

“What part? That I was raised by muggles, or that I went through families quickly.”

“Both.”

There was a long pause before he spoke again.

“I was raised by muggles too. My aunt and uncle.”

Tom reached over to move one of his pieces.

“Nice pair?”

“No. Awful.”

“So they’re not the gingers.”

“No.” At Tom’s mention of his visitors, Harry’s voice and face grew even more closed off. Clearly a subject he should avoid.

The doctor could find no other way to continue the conversation at that moment, so instead they just played the game for a while. Harry didn’t consider his moves the way Tom did. He was clearly an instinctual being; it matched up with the way he displayed his emotions so plainly. But that didn’t mean he was bad, or impulsive. No, instead he was naturally talented.

Tom was the opposite. He spent ages brushing his fingers along the edge of the board, grazing over the various pieces. Staring at Harry, trying to read him, to psych him out. He even considered reading his mind, before reminding himself that that was a serious violation of the Hippocratic oath. Even he wasn’t that blase with his livelihood.

It was only after one of these long stretches of intense thought, when he finally made his move, that Harry spoke up.

“You’re young to be a doctor.”

“I am. I turn twenty-four in December.”

“How did you manage that?”

“I was on a fast-track.”

Harry narrowed his eyes in suspicion, and Tom couldn’t help but leap at the opportunity to question him.

“You seem suspicious of that.”

“I am suspicious.”

Tom smirked, but spoke innocently, “You suspect me of foul play?”

Harry shrugged.

“I just wonder what you’re doing here, s’all.”

“What, here, playing chess with you? Or here, in this profession.”

Harry fixed him with another stare.

“Both.”

Tom leaned back in his chair, well aware that it was his turn once more. Harry had had his go not ten seconds after his first question.

“Is it such a crime for a doctor to be curious about their patient?”

“You don’t seem curious about anyone else.”

That’s because he wasn’t.

“That’s because you’re the new one. The first new one we’ve had in months.”

The green eyes narrowed.

“It’s like you’re upset about it. Upset that there aren’t enough terminally ill 20 year olds being brought to you.”

“I am upset. Upset that you clearly think so little of me. All of my other patients like me quite a lot, you know. They find me to be just curious enough about them.”

Harry scoffed, “I’m sure they do.”

Finally, Tom reached forward and moved his piece, before settling back into the chair. Harry didn’t spare the board a glance, and instead kept his gaze firmly on Tom. It was so intense, he nearly flushed. Nearly.

“What about my other question?”

Tom played dumb, “What other question?”

“Why are you a doctor?”

“Why, to help people. What other reason is there?”

Harry gave a little choking noise, and for a second Tom was worried the man was going to collapse, right there in front of him. Then, the sound bubbled up, up through his throat and out of his mouth, until he was throwing his head back in raucous laughter.

Tom just sat there, astonished, watching as he laughed himself silly. It was the strongest display of emotion he had ever gotten, and a burning desire settled itself deep in his stomach to make him react like that again.

It took him a little while to calm down, and when he did he was wiping tears away from his eyes.

“Sorry,” He said, “I’ve been a bit hysterical lately.”

“Why?”

Harry blinked at him, a grin forming, “What, is terminal illness not a good enough reason to get a bit hysterical?”

“No, why did what I said make you laugh?”

“Oh, that. I just think it’s complete bullshit.”

“Bullshit?” Tom couldn’t stop the slight edge of panic in his voice. Oh merlin, what if the man was a mind-reader and knew all about the horrible things he thought about his patients. What if he reported him? He was beginning to wish he had properly taught himself occlumency all those years ago.

“Yeah, bullshit. Like, you’re a liar, and I know you don’t actually give a shit about helping people.”

“That’s quite an accusation-”

“Save it Riddle. If you were really so caring, you’d probably not ignore Janet whenever she tells you her bedpan is full!”

Tom’s nose crinkled in disgust just thinking about it.

“For starters, that’s the nurses job-”

“And, I’ve seen the way you talk to Jenny, like she doesn’t even exist! And, even worse, she’s basically in love with you, and I’m sure you're smart enough to notice.”

Tom decided to take the accidental compliment. Still, he was thanking his lucky stars that there was no one else, aside from an old man drooling in the corner, around to hear their confrontation.

“I don’t see how this has anything to do with not caring about my patients.” He snapped, crossing his arms over his chest in a manner befitting a petulant child.

“You know what career you should have gone into?” Harry mused.

Tom couldn’t resist the bait.

“What?”

“Politics. You’re very good at dodging questions. And mostly good at lying.”

Tom rolled his eyes and scoffed, but didn’t protest. Instead, he waved his hand, moving his piece.

Harry glanced at the board for only a moment before returning his gaze to Tom.

“So why are you a doctor then?”

He considered lying again, but the truth seemed to tumble out of him, unbidden.

“What greater power is there, than the power over life and death?”

Harry’s face split into a triumphant smile. He then moved one of his pieces, a pawn, and stood up, ambling off down the corridor without a care in the world.

It was only after he was gone that Tom realised he was in checkmate.

He was ashamed to say he couldn’t leave Harry alone after that. The first order of business was to have him transferred entirely into his care. He didn’t want some other doctor coming in to poke and prod him.

Luckily, Malfoy was his supervisor, and he was firmly under his thumb, and practically fell over himself to give Tom full authority on Harry.

He wasn’t doing it for the reasons he normally would. Usually, he wanted to assert power over other people, to be able to control them fully. But with Harry, he knew he had next to no power over him. The usual charm wasn’t working. Somehow, the man saw right through him.

So, instead, he just needed to make sure that no-one else had power over him.

That was just as easy. He just spent every minute he could with him. Be that in the garden adjoining the hospital, in the common areas, or in the ward, Tom tried not to let the boy out of his sight.

Again, he had no end goal. No conceivable motive aside from an innate, burning, desire to spend all the time that he could with him.

Harry didn’t seem all that perturbed by the attention. He no longer seemed disgusted by Tom, more so, uninterested. Like he had figured him out, and now he was bored by him.

Tom had never been so fascinated.

“You hang around me a lot nowadays.” Harry had said one day when they were out in the garden.

“I am now your sole caretaker.”

“You are? So that’s why Malfoy wouldn’t answer any of my questions.”

He seemed more amused than angry.

“Probably.”

“Why’d you do that?”

Tom shrugged.

“I’m interested in your case.”

“Oh, yeah, my ‘case’. And what have you worked out so far, genius?”

His expression soured, “Not as much as I would like.”

Harry didn’t seem put out. His eyes still sparkled in the late summer sun, despite the dreary subject matter.

“Not shocking. I’m a goner, mate. How long was it Malfoy gave me, 6 months to a year?”

Tom felt an unexpected flare of emotion.

“Malfoy has no idea what he’s talking about.”

“He doesn’t? I thought he was your superior.”

He ground his teeth, “Technically speaking, yes, but-”

“But you’re just soooooo much better than he could ever hope to be?”

Tom blinked in surprise, “Yes, pretty much.”

“Huh. So how long do you give me, Doctor Tom?”

“As long as I say so.”

Ever since he learned what death was, Tom had been obsessed with it.

He found out about the concept when he squashed his first bug. There was a daddy-long legs, clinging to the wall in the corner of the room he shared with his so-called ‘foster brother’. He had screamed when he saw it, and ran out of the room to get his mummy.

Tom didn’t run or scream. He stalked over to the corner quietly, barely lifting his feet off of the ground. Then, he’d picked it up, pinching its fat little body in between his fingers. He tried to remember what his foster mother had done when she found a stray insect. He couldn’t recall. So he acted on instinct, crushing it between his fingers.

When the boy returned, mummy in tow, Tom stood by the window, grinding the body into a pulp with his fingers. She was clearly disturbed, but let it go.

It was only when he began to seek out the insects to kill that she spoke to him about it.

“Tommy,” He had always hated that nickname, “You really shouldn’t hurt those poor spiders like that, they have feelings too you know.”

“No they don’t.” He scoffed, as harsh as a 5 year old could be.

“Yes they do. When you hurt them like that, they die.”

“Die?” He said, disbelieving. He probably had heard the word before, but it had never entirely registered in his mind.

“Yes. It happens to all of us someday, but you’re making it happen extra-soon to those spiders.”

It wasn’t long before he was passed on to another family, but those words stuck with him. It happens to us all someday. She had to be wrong. Because Tom wasn’t like the rest of them. He was different, he was special. So why did he have to abide by such stupid rules as mortality?

From then on, he made it his mission to not only understand, but to conquer death. When the Ministry came to inform him of his magic, he not only realised just how special he really was, but that he had a way to realise that ultimate dream. He went to Durmstrang instead of Hogwarts and got himself a job as a magical doctor for that very dream.

Where better to conduct his research on death but around the sick and the dying?

Still, when he saw Harry for the first time, watched the way those eyes flickered as they darted around the room, something shifted, and when he threw himself into research, he knew it wasn’t entirely to help his cause.

Because, of course, there was something to be said for researching an unknown curse that caused rapid deterioration (and death) and then curing it. That was immortality if he had ever heard of it.

But, there was also the fact that Harry was the one suffering the curse. Maybe that was why he was more frantic than ever before.

The man became his guinea pig, and as the weeks and weeks of failed trials went on, he only seemed to grow more amused.

“You know, I’d never expected you to be someone to get so passionate about something?”

“About what?” Tom snapped as he hooked an IV into his arm.

“About this ‘cure’. I mean, you look like you haven’t slept in a month.”

“I haven’t, not really.”

“See. Passionate.”

“What, and you took me for some unfeeling robot?”

“Hm, yeah, pretty much.”

Tom took offense to that, but shrugged off the emotion. Maybe that’s why Harry thought he was unfeeling.

“Well, unfeeling or not, know this Potter. I won't fail.”

Harry laughed a little at that, but raised his free arm in surrender.

He had no signs that you would normally see in the terminally ill. They were often pale and bloodless. They often shook or had fits and seizures. They got nosebleeds and colds and shooting pains and deep-seated aches.

Harry had only the mildest of obvious symptoms. His skin remained a healthy tan, his hair was as thick and wild as always. He only complained of a mild back pain, which he attributed to an old quidditch injury. Sometimes, he wondered why they were even keeping him here, when he seemed fit as anything.

It was only when Tom went through the scans of his vital organs that he could see something was wrong. They were all shrivelled and dark at the edges, like rotting fruit. It sickened him to look at them, and he avoided it whenever possible.

He was also very emotionally healthy. He always smiled, and not in that fake way. He was genuine. Especially when his family came to visit. It was like the whole room brightened whenever he saw them. He wasn’t disheartened by Tom’s constant failure, not nearly as much as he was. In fact, he just grew even lighter at each turn, his mood perpetually buoyant.

“You’re not scared of dying.” Tom said one day as they played another game of chess. After his first victory, Harry had not beaten him again, and Tom was glad to re-establish his intellectual dominance.

He laughed, “Isn’t that one of the things you’re not supposed to talk about with the sick? Y’know, dying?”

“That’s my point. You don’t seem to care.”

“I do care. I just… I see no point in arguing with it if the universe wants me gone now. I’ve had a good life, and maybe, in return, I should die early.”

Tom gaped at him, utterly baffled.

“What? Why do you look so lost?” Harry asked, leaning in closer to peer at him.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’d rather live a short, good life than a long miserable one.”

“No good life can be short.”

He shrugged, “If that’s what you think. It doesn’t shock me you think that way. You seem like the sort of wizard to live to 120.”

Tom intended to live much longer than that, but he kept that to himself.

“Hm. Where’s your wand?”

The patient seemed to suffer from a little whiplash at the sudden conversation shift.

“Huh? My wand? It’s in my drawer, by my bed. Why?”

“You never have it with you.”

He shrugged.

“Don’t need it. What spells would I need to cast in here? Besides, if I want something done, I’ll ask you to do it. You’re always around anyway.”

He didn’t seem overly appreciative of Tom’s constant presence, but he wasn’t troubled by it either. He was merely ambivalent, like he seemed to be about everything.

“What core is it?”

“Phoenix feather.”

Tom’s eyebrows raised in shock, “Me too.”

Harry seemed genuinely surprised by the news too.

“Really? I had always expected you to be more the dragon heartstring type of guy. Y’know, dark magic and all.”

Tom spluttered, “I don’t use dark magic-”

“You went to Durmstrang. Don’t worry, no judgement.”

From anyone else, he would have found that hard to believe, but with Harry he was more concerned how he always seemed to hit the nail right on the head. The boy must have been psychic.

“But still,” Harry continued, “Phoenix feather suits you.”

“It does?”

“Yeah. Like I said. Passionate.”

This supposed passion only grew as winter approached and they began to see the physical effects of Harry’s illness. The cold air and increased viruses going around did nothing to help his lungs, and they began to deteriorate faster than the rest of his body. Nowadays, he could descend into a coughing fit at any moment.

Tom had requested he be moved to a private room, but Harry himself had declined. He didn’t want to leave his ‘wardmates’. Ridiculous.

He even tried to convince his friends when they came to visit him. Tom ambushed them when they were leaving, and directed his speech towards Hermione. She had always seemed to be the more sensible of the two.

“Hi, how are you both?” He said, smiling.

Ron looked shell-shocked, while she was clearly amused. He brushed it off.

“We’re good, thank you Doctor Riddle. Harry told us you’ve been taking very good care of him.”

Tom was unable to stop the spread of a genuine grin across his face. Of course Harry had said that about him. Because he was taking good care of him, the best care in fact. He was worried that his other patients might begin to accuse him of neglect.

“I’m glad to hear it, but I did want to discuss one matter of his care with you.”

“Oh? What is it?” She was clearly stifling a smile.

“Well, he’s having trouble with his lungs now that there are all these colds going around, I’ve suggested moving him to a private room to help with his recovery, but he’s refusing.”

“He can be stubborn, can’t he?”

Tom gave a breathless sort of laugh.

“Yes, very stubborn. Would you consider talking to him about it?”

“I’m afraid I can’t Doctor.”

“Why not?”

Ron then butted in, “Because he already told us that you were gonna try and convince us to convince him to switch rooms!”

Tom gaped at them.

“So sorry Doctor, I have to say I agree with you on this, but he doesn’t listen to anyone, even us.” Hermione said, “It was lovely to speak to you again!”

And then, before he had even processed their words, they were leaving.

His face fell into a scowl and he stormed into the ward, marching his way over to Harry’s bed in the corner of the room.

“Tom? You look a bit put out.” Harry said, his voice slightly croaky as it had been the last few weeks. Still, he was grinning triumphantly.

He dragged a nearby chair over so he could sit right next to Harry’s bed, and leaned in close to speak to him.

“Do I? Maybe that’s because my patient is such a stubborn pain the arse-”

Harry gasped in faux-shock, “Language!”

Tom’s scowl only deepened.

“I just wish you would listen to me for once in your life. I’m trying to help you-”

“I’ve listened. I’ve just decided it's a risk I’m willing to take.”

“It’s not a risk I’m going to take.”

“It’s not your bloody decision, Tom.” Now Harry seemed genuinely frustrated, a rare sliver of emotion getting past his cool, calm demeanour.

They just sat there for a bit scowling at each other, clearly at an impasse, until Janet piped up.

“Are you two finished with your lovers quarrel?”

Their heads snapped towards her in sync, and Tom scoffed, standing up.

“Quite done.”

Then he was storming away, muttering stupid old woman under his breath.

Things were a little tense for the week that followed, until it seemed that cold and flu season was easing off a little. Harry was coughing less and less, and even when he did, it wasn’t in that awful way where it sounded like his rib cage would collapse any minute. They fell back into their usual rhythm, and Tom even believed he had made a breakthrough in his research.

Thus far, he had pretty much just been firing healing blindly into Harry’s body. Yes, antidotes were useful, but only if they knew what to target. And so far, he was at a loss as to what spell had caused Harry’s illness.

“I can’t believe this has only just occurred to you.” Harry said, “How long have you been working on this? Three months?” For once he seemed genuinely invested in the outcome of his treatment.

“It clearly didn’t occur to you either.”

Harry snorted, “It bloody well did. I just thought it obviously wasn’t important if you hadn’t considered it in that enormous brain of yours!”

“I wanted to run clinical trials first.” He grumbled, even though that wasn’t entirely true.

“Whatever. So what do you want to know?”

“Everything you remember about the spell. What colour was it?”

“Uh, purple. Like a blue-ish purple.”

“And someone cast it?”

“How do spells normally happen, Tom?”

He frowned at him, “As in, it wasn’t from an object.”

“No, someone cast it.”

“Well, do you know who?”

“No idea. Just some random guy on the street. I was caught in the crossfire.”

Tom could imagine Harry as an auror. He had the reflexes for it, and his wand core and seeming aptitude at wandless magic suggest he was powerful. He could imagine the way he would fight, just as regally as he sat in his bed.

“Alright. Do you remember anything else about it?”

He thought for a moment.

“When he cast it, I felt cold.”

It didn’t take long for him to find the right spell. In fact, he recognised it as soon as Harry said those words, but he had to be sure. It was something of a Durmstrang classic, the one they all told you about. Some sick man had created it in the 1600s for unofficial use during the rule of the Spanish Inquisition. A spell for a slow, and often painful death. It was, as far as anyone knew, incurable.

Because, it feasted not on the body, but on the soul.

To be away from Harry for more than a day or so felt frankly wrong. But, he was left with no choice but to seek out his former Spellcraft professor.

The two had always gotten along well, and she had always answered Tom’s previous letters about niche spellcraft, but this time, she had insisted that he come to Norway to see him.

It had taken a week to acquire the portkey. It would usually have taken longer, but Malfoy had family connections that could be easily exploited.

So, a little over a week after his discovery, he landed in Norway, in front of a log cabin. His former professor quickly opened the door, smiling broadly at him.

“Tom, my dear, come in, come in, it's so good to see you!”

He made his usual polite greetings, accepting a warming cup of tea and a seat by the fire. But he jumped to the chase immediately.

“You read my letter Professor, you must know why I am here.”

She paled a little.

“Yes, Tom, yes, I read it. And, frankly, I must disappoint you. The ‘muerte fria’ has never been thwarted, not in the way you wish to do so.”

He frowned, “I simply don’t believe it. There must be a way to do it.”

“There is not.”

“Then, no offence Professor, but what did you drag me all the way out here for?” He snapped, unable to maintain his polite facade in the face of such an acute disappointment.

“To check on you. People who attempt to break curses such as this… they are liable to drive themselves mad, or destroy themself with some dangerous spell or other. I want neither for you.”

Tom saw the conflict in her face. She knew something. He had to press harder, and she would eventually snap. Everyone did.

“Maria.” She looked up from her tea.

“Please. My patient, he- he is only 21. He should not die…” His voice began to shake with an emotion he did not know he was capable of, “He cannot die. I will not let him, whether you tell me what you know or not.”

The conflict on her face grew, and then became resigned. Tom knew he had her.

“Alright. There is one way. But it is dark. Very, very dark. And dangerous. I am only telling you because I trust you will do the right thing, Tom.”

He nodded, “I will.”

For once, he felt entirely certain of that fact.

She gave him the horcrux. And he knew it was the answer to all of his problems.

Not just to Harry’s illness, but to his deepest, darkest desire. They could give him immortality. If he brewed the right potion, collected the right ingredients, the right object, the right person, he could split his soul. He could become immortal.

And not only him. But Harry too. His sick, terminal patient, would no longer be so. He would be alive, fully alive, forever.

He began to daydream about it in his spare time. Immortality. And, not the lonely forever-life of research that he had always imagined. Not him alone, travelling to ancient wizarding sanctuaries and the like. No, Harry was always there with him. He would always be there with him.

So, Tom began to prepare the potion. He snuck into the greenhouse at midnight, the full moon gazing down at him, to steal plants and herbs. He found illegal black market vendors to sell him parts of endangered magical creatures.

And, in his little laboratory (the cupboard in his office) he brewed, for two full months, until finally, the week before Christmas, it was done. All that was required was the splitting of a soul.

There was only one problem. Tom had only been able to gather enough ingredients for one person.

His instincts told him to take it. This is your dream they whispered. It’s all you’ve ever wanted. But, another part of him knew that he would never forgive himself if he stole Harry’s life away from him. Tom had time to make another potion, if not this week, then next year, or next decade. Time was the one thing Harry was desperately short of.

But, he couldn’t bring himself to part with it yet. This was his life's work. He could enjoy the triumph for just a little longer.

Besides, by the time December had rolled around, Harry had seemed better. He was brighter, brighter even than when he had first come in at the end of July.

Still, Christmas had lowered his spirits somewhat. He wasn’t allowed to be discharged, Tom’s decision and the hospitals. He was too much of a risk. After all, he was coming up on Malfoy’s estimate of six months to a year. To allow him to stay somewhere without proper medical care, overnight at that? It was simply unacceptable.

“I’m sorry you can’t see your family.” Tom said, and he meant it. What a pathetic, emotional person Harry had turned him into.

The man smiled at him.

“It’s okay. I get it. All for my safety, right?”

“Yes.”

“It’s just a shame to be alone, y’know? They’re even sending Janet home. Jenny’ll be here, of course, although I feel a little bit guilty about tearing her away…”

Tom had to stifle the grin on his face. The horcrux potion wasn’t the only thing he was hiding from him.

On Christmas morning, Tom strolled into the ward at 8, to find Harry still in a fitful slumber.

He pulled up his usual chair, and just admired him for the moment. The way his messy black hair fell over his eyes, and that peculiar scar that he said was more of a birthmark. Tom liked looking at him. He always had.

Still, it felt a little creepy to watch him sleep like this, so he reached over a hand and shook him gently.

“Hnghhh… whatttt?” He grumbled, opening his eyes just a crack before throwing an arm over them.

“Harry.”

He dropped his arm in confusion.

“Tom?”

“Happy Christmas.”

Their faces then split into identical grins, and Harry launched himself at Tom, wrapping him in a tight hug.

“Hah! I knew it! I knew you had something shady going on you bastard!”

He shrugged, “I normally do.”

Still, as much as he was playing it cool, he was delighted to see Harry so delighted, and immediately he launched into his itinerary.

“So, we have the whole ward to ourselves for today because I sent Jenny home, so we can play games, or go in the garden, then I asked the canteen guy to save us some food so there’s that, and then…”

He trailed off at Harry’s amused expression.

“What?”

“No, no, nothing. Just, it makes perfect sense that you’ve planned a bloody Christmas itinerary.”

“I am nothing if not thorough.”

Another smile.

“I’m aware.”

By the end of the day, they had managed to cross off every cliche Christmas activity. Besides, of course, the ones that needed snow, because when did it ever snow in England?

The only thing that was remaining was the promised walk in the gardens. They set off after gorging themselves on all of the sweets Ron and Hermione had brought the day before, and by the time they had finished that, it was already dark.

Still, by the light of the moon, Tom could see the way Harry’s green eyes glowed, and the way his cheeks were dusted with red.

“Cold?” He asked when the man gave a light shiver.

“A little. You gonna offer me your coat?”

“Fuck no. This is my coat, get your own.”

“Aw, but Tom, I’m dying. You have to give me your coat.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah, it’s the rules.”

They had stopped, and Tom felt himself stepping closer. Harry didn’t back away.

“I’ve got a better idea.”

He leaned closer, and raised a hand, pressing his finger against Harry’s forehead, letting warmth flow into his veins. Still, when the charm was finished, neither of them pulled away. In fact, they only got closer and closer, until their noses were nearly bumping.

Tom grinned.

“What are you smiling at?” Harry asked, despite the fact he was wearing the same smile.

“Hm, nothing.”

Harry’s eyes twinkled with mischief.

“Nothing? Oh, guess I misread the situation.”

He began to back away, but Tom caught him by the back of the neck.

“Don’t you dare.”

Then, he bridged the gap between them, small as it was, and kissed him deeply.

They stood like that for some time, arms wrapped around each other, faces pressed together, fingers deep in tangled hair.

Eventually they broke apart for air.

After only a few moments of panting, Harry spoke up again, “Do that again.”

“Desperate, much?”

“Don’t test me Riddle. I’ll hex your fucking face off.”

“No wand?”

“Don’t doubt my wandless magic.”

Tom sighed, the sound warm and fond, “I adore you.”

Then, he did as he was told.

After the New Year was when things started to go downhill.

The coughing started again. Then it was shortness of breath. Then tiredness.

Tom knew what was coming. Soon, when Harry coughed, flecks of blood speckled the tissue. It was then they moved him into the ICU. And, it was then that Tom finally knew he had to tell Harry about the cure.

“Hey, how are you?” He asked gently. The vial felt heavy in his pocket.

“Been better.” Harry croaked.

Tom leaned down to kiss him on the forehead, placing the hot cup of tea at his bedside. Then, he sat down on the chair that had been left especially for him.

“Now, listen. I have something to talk to you about.”

“Okay.” Harry sounded apprehensive, but he sat up to listen anyway.

“I’ve found a cure. But it’s…morally questionable.”

His eyebrow’s furrowed.

“How morally questionable.”

Tom figured he may as well get it out.

“You have to kill someone. To split your soul. That way, the curse won’t have a host anymore. And, you’ll be immortal.”

Harry’s jaw dropped open, and he began to stare off into space, keeping his eyes away from Tom. He wasn’t surprised. He would need time to process. But, he was sure he would come around. He had to come around, there was no other-

“No.” He croaked.

“No?” Tom said, now just as shocked as Harry had been.

“No. I won’t do it. I won’t kill anyone. Not to sustain my own life.”

“But, darling, you have to.”

“No I don’t.”

Tom was starting to get frustrated.

“Yes you do. This is the only way you can live, don’t you see that? It’ll be fine, I’ll find someone, someone bad, a rapist, or a murderer or something-”

“What, like me, after I do this?”

His voice was cold. Meanwhile, Tom was only getting more desperate.

“You won’t even have to do it, not really. I’ll take care of everything. I’ll guide your hand, you just have to say the words. Two words, then we can go back to normal.”

“What’s normal about that Tom. About killing?”

“Nothing. But it's necessary.”

Harry scoffed.

“It is.” Tom insisted, “Because you have to live. You have to. There is no other way this can go. I won’t let it go any other way.”

Those green eyes softened.

“Tom. Please, stop. I said no.”

He began to protest, but Harry clapped a hand over his mouth.

“I love you. So much. And there’s nothing more that I want than to- to have a life with you. But I can’t do this. I just can’t.”

Tom took a deep breath.

“Okay. Okay, that’s fine. That’s fine.”

He then walked out of the room, not even thinking about the consequences to himself when he crushed the vial of potion under his heel, and vanished the evidence.

Malfoy had been spot on with his prediction.

Harry went on the 22nd of January, exactly 6 months after he was admitted. Tom was beside him, holding his hand tightly as he slipped in and out of consciousness.

The last thing he said before he went was that he didn’t regret a thing.

Tom did.

He regretted not forcing him to make that horcrux.

#tomarry #harry potter #tom riddle #voldemort #soulseeker #ao3 #writing #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #one shot #angst #heavy angst #hurt/no comfort #major character death

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wilderness-of-thoughts · 10 months ago

Text

Before

"I'm glad I caught you at least at home, what happened to your phone?" Ijichi was holding a cup of coffee in his hand, sitting on your couch.

"Um..." Flashbacks of Gojo blowing it up using the energy ball "it fell into my toilet as I pissing" you managed a genuine smile of embarrassment. Ijichi looked at you for a moment and then sighed with resignation.

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me..." With that he put an old model phone on the table top. "It doesn't have a camera or games, it's really an antique, but it works. Call me if you need a replacement."You smiled sincerely now. You saw that he was doing better, the bags under his eyes were a bit smaller and he had probably gained a bit of weight."You know, I've had chickenpox before and I shouldn't have..."

Bite.

"Mmmmmmm!" You squealed as you felt the tiny teeth on the back of your neck. If only your coworker knew that you had your narcissistic boss on your back at that moment. "I'll be fine! Thanks for your concern!"

"I'm not the only one worried, Gojo doesn't call back, he only replies to some text messages sometimes. He doesn't send stupid memes to anyone and he doesn't poison anyone's ass..."

"Ohhh~ so you miss him?"

"Like a cold," he joked. He really felt better since he started joking. It was clear that Gojo's entire entourage was only benefiting from such a break.

"Don't worry, when he recovers you'll be up to your noses in him again." You assured, taking a sip of tea from your cup.

"I dare not doubt that." He placed his hand on your knee in a friendly gesture. Bite. Gojo have mercy! "Mr. Nanami told me recently that you borrowed half the archive library."

"Not half, maybe a third." You pursed your lips, pretending to pout. You arched your arm as if you wanted to scratch your back, even though in reality you were petting a little jealous boy. "Actually, can I have a question?"

"If I can help you..."

It's worth a try, after all your friend had more knowledge than you might think. You took a deep breath.

"Let's hypothetically... One of the jujutsu sorcerers... getting tiny..."

"You mean getting younger?"

"No... shrinking." Ijichi frowned, trying to understand you.

"Are we still talking about a hypothetical scenario?"

"Yup! Purely theoretical, hypothetical, not like something like that would even happen!" You laughed nervously. Bite.

"So let's take Itadori, he shrinks. What about his powers?" Ijichi, fucking marry me! BITE!

"YES!" You squealed in pain, good thing Ijichi took it as enthusiasm.

"Hmm... That could be a problem. Even with his powers, he would be in great danger in this form. An easier target." You saw Ijichi already activating his gray cells.

"Exactly! That's why it needs to be returned to normal growth, the sooner the better!"

Ijichi looked at you perhaps too long and too suspiciously, took his hand away and held it out. his notebook of service.

"Where did this hypothetical scene with Itadori take place?"

"On a mission in .... Old house. He defeated all the curses but suddenly shrunk. He doesn't know why. There's nothing on the spot that would indicate it was done with curse magic, and distance spells are out of the question." Gojo doesn't quite understand . It's not like you were revealing his secrets, but you were giving some pretty important details. And Ijichi didn't even question this game of hypothetical scenarios. He got involved in them and didn't ask uncomfortable questions.

Ijichi thought for a moment, breathing deeply while you waited for him.

"I would check if this old house had a Guardian Spirit"

"What do you mean?"

"Ayakashi..." You frowned. It wasn't like you'd never heard the name before - mostly in games - but you didn't expect to hear it now. "Before the first possessors of cursed energy appeared, nature itself got rid of the excess curses. They were food for some Ayakashi. People did not see it, but the areas where there was peace. Plants bore fruit and there weren't many cataclysms, they got shrines. Ayakashi that fed on human curses got names, shrines and people started to worship them." Ijichi explained patiently with a slight hint of nostalgia in his voice. "Then the first jujutsu sorcerers appeared, the human species naturally evolved for this purpose and Ayakashi were no longer needed as much. .... Especially since the first weapons against curses were created from their bodies."

"The first weapons..."

"That's what the scrolls I dug up say. Whether it's true or not, I don't know. History is like whore. Everyone has their own opinion about it, but no one knows what it's really like."

"Heh.... Right. So there's a chance that... Ayakashi could have shrunked Go-I mean Itadori?"

"Theoretically yes. If it survived the purge that its ancestors made to obtain a large amount of weapons. Nowadays, Ayakashi are almost a dying species..."

It could make sense, Gojo destroyed an old temple where Ayakashi could live, and in revenge he cast a spell on him....

"Do you know how to pull off this.... Hypothetical spell?"

"Only a hypothetical Ayakashi knows that."

Damn.

"Do you know how to get this theoretical Ayakashi to cooperate?"

"he will want something, it's hard to say what."

You talked to Ijichi for a while before he left, he said it was Meeting with an old acquaintance but he blushed sweetly.

Determination returned.

"Gojo, we're going to the Old Temple!"

"I told you there's nothing there..."

"We're going there together."

"Date?"

"Over my dead body"

"It can be arranged"

Theoretically.

#jujutsu kaisen #catoru #itty bitty gojo #jjk #jjk gojo #fluff #gojo catoru #gojo x reader #reader is female #tiny gojo #bitty curses #bitty gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru

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kissorkill16 · 10 months ago

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The Device: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: The device is dangerous, so why would anyone want it?

Nicky laid down on his bed, holding the brass and emerald pentagon that he found a year ago.

He was about to go to sleep, but then it kept glowing in his desk, so he thought about examining it for a while.

His mind thought back to when Ivan basically threatened him for it, saying it was really important and that he was aware that it could control the weather and stuff, but that didn't matter to the fake Ivan.

But why would anyone want this device? Surely it's gotta do more than just control the weather and just look shiny and pretty.

He sighed, putting the device in his pocket and going to the bathroom to get his pills.

When he came back from the bathroom with his pills and a glass of water, he nearly fainted when he saw the large shadow of a hulking man in an argyle sweater.

Mr. Peterson was in his room.

The boy dropped his pills and the glass of water and started screaming in terror. Mr. Peterson jumped back and immediately walked over to Nicky, slapping a gloved hand over his mouth to muffle his screams.

"Nicky, calm down! I'm not here to hurt you!", he tried to reason with the boy, but Nicky kept screaming and trying to pry the hand away from his mouth, but Mr. Peterson was too strong.

When Nicky was starting to run out of breath, he stopped screaming, and Mr. Peterson slowly removed his hand from his mouth.

"Also, you've broken into my house more times than I could count on my fingers, so please stop screaming.", said Mr. Peterson. Nicky shrugged and backed away from the man.

"Whatever.", he said, "Just...why are you here?"

"Because you have something important that the Guest is after, and you need to give it to me before he gets to you."

Nicky furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, "What is it? And how do I know you're not just Crowface in disguise? Because I feel like I recognize him even as someone else. Seriously, he -"

"He came to you disguised as Ivan, yes. I already know about that."

A moment of awkward silence passed by.

"Look, whatever you think I have, I don't have. So you can leave.", Nicky said, pointing to the door.

But Mr. Peterson didn't leave, "Nicholas, this is serious. You do have the device, I know it. You remember last year when you and your friends snuck out to the woods, don't you?"

Nicky did remember that night. But how did Mr. Peterson know about that night?

"Also, I can see green glowing in your pocket."

Nicky looked down at his pajama pants pocket which contained the device, and slowly pulled it out. "Fine. Yes, I have it. No, I don't know what power it holds other than controlling the weather. But I still don't completely trust you, so if you're asking me to give it to you, then you can leave."

Mr. Peterson gently grabbed Nicky's arm, pulling the boy close to him and taking the device, despite Nicky trying to keep a firm grip on it. "I'm sorry, Nicky. But this demon bird has been cursing me for years, and it's about time I get my revenge."

"Fine, whatever. You have it, now you can leave.", said Nicky. He was about to pick his pills back up, then Mr. Peterson said something that shocked him.

"Nicholas...", he said, "Come with me."

"What?", asked the boy.

"This is for your protection. The Guest could come here at any given moment and try to kill you like he promised.", said Mr. Peterson, "You think I didn't notice the Golden Apple bracelet around your wrist? Lucy had one of those, and she's dead, like you're going to be if you don't come with me.", said Mr. Peterson. Nicky shrunk back and backed up against the wall.

"No. Get out! Leave me alone!"

Mr. Peterson moved forward to the boy, holding a gentle hand to him, "Listen, I know it's too much to take in and you're really scared right now, but please listen to me. Let me help you just like you helped me."

Nicky was hesitant for a moment.

Despite everything Mr. Peterson said, he still wasn't sure whether or not to trust him.

He didn't even believe that Mr. Peterson wanted to protect him, after everything he put him through. The man was probably tricking him into thinking he still cared about him a little bit just so he could offer him to Crowface as a sacrifice.

...But maybe once he was about to do it, he'll realize he could never go through with it, because Nicky was the only thing Mr. Peterson had left to a friend, just like he said.

He was starting to behave just like the old Mr. Peterson again.

And that Mr. Peterson would rather fight Crowface to the death than allow Nicky to go through the same fate as his daughter and Lucy.

Without a second thought, he extended a shaking hand to Mr. Peterson's gloved hand, allowing the man to lead him out the door and across the street to his house.

#hello neighbor #welcome to raven brooks #theodore peterson #nicky roth #my fics #hello neighbor fanfic

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hugsandchaos · 2 years ago

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@md-tickle-stuff! *holds this up like a kid’s drawing* Look what I made for you! I used some of your headcanons for it!

“Everything okay, J?” V asked. She had been watching J switch between sitting on a chair and staring at the ceiling in thought, and pacing around with frustration evident in the way she walked, for the past fifteen minutes after telling her what N had done.

J gave an exasperated sigh and sat on the chair again.“Sometimes, I really want to teach him a lesson, but I don’t want to hit him.” J said, half mumbling the last part. She didn’t really want to admit that she did in fact care about N, or that she thought he was scared of her enough, if not more. Then again, she was his new boss, and pretty intimidating and snappy sometimes, so she couldn’t exactly blame him.“What if you tickled him?” V suggested. J paused her train of thought and took a few seconds to process what her squad mate just said. Even when she did, J was still confused. She turned to look at her squad mate.“Excuse me?” She asked.

V either didn’t notice the confusion and slight irritation in her tone or didn’t care.“He’s stupid ticklish, so it shouldn’t be hard to get your point across. Poor boy’s easy to wreck.” She said.

“...Are you serious?” J asked.

“One hundred percent. The funny part is he’ll try not to fight back if you threaten to make it worse if he does.“ V replied. J stared at her dumbfounded for a few more seconds before putting a finger to her chin with a barely audible hum.

Five minutes later, J was making notes of today’s events on a tablet while sitting on one of the two chairs in the pod. She heard a knock and immediately knew who it was.”Come in.” She said. The door opened and her squad mate took a cautious step into the pod.“V told me you wanted to see me?” N asked, failing to hide the nervousness from his voice.

J glanced up from her tablet and gave him a stern glare.”I did. Take a seat.” She instructed. N didn’t exactly rush to the other chair across from her, but he did move tensely and quickly, like always. J turned her tablet off and placed it on the desk full of buttons that didn’t work. She turned back to N and held her stern gaze.“V told me what happened. A storm with 300mph winds and hail the size of manhole covers, and yet you still went outside like we wouldn’t loose a member of our squad.” She said.

“I’m sorry, boss. I didn’t think it was a big deal—“

“That’s enough, N.” J said. N immediately shut up and shrunk a bit into the chair, pulling his arms closer to his chest and lifting his legs a bit. His boss stood up, obviously angry. Angry enough to hit him.“You’ve made three mistakes during your first month here, and this was the worst one! It’s about time you learn what happens when my squad members screw up this bad.” She said in a threatening tone.

N raised his arms up to protect his head and squeezed his eyes shut, expecting to be struck or something, not feel two hands dig into his sides. His eyes shot back open and he tried to keep his grinning mouth shut to prevent any laughter from escaping, but it already tickled pretty bad.

Curse the others for getting the tougher metal! N tried to push J’s hands off, but at the same time, he was scared he’d anger her further by doing so, so he only pushed lightly.”Boss, whahat are you dohohoing?” N asked. He mentally cursed himself for letting those few giggles slip through in front of his boss and tried not to squirm.”This is what happens, N. If you try to fight back, it’ll be twice as bad.” J replied.

She continued tickling him as he resisted the urge to push her away and squirmed around in the chair.“Ahahahahaha! Bohohoss! Wahahahaihihit! Hahahahahaha!” N laughed. J obviously didn’t listen. She kept spidering her fingers up and down his sides and occasionally giving them a squeeze. Every time one of her hands went up, N would tense up just a little bit.

J waited a bit to go for the spaces underneath his arms, which made him laugh a little harder and move around a little more. It took a lot of willpower not to pin his arms against his sides and protect himself. He tried not to kick his legs either, but he did pull them up a bit. Not that it did much to help.“Hold still! Geez, you’re squirmy.” J said exasperatedly. Of course, this wasn’t too exaggerated. N was having a hard time not to squirm and was failing pretty badly, but at least he kept his hands from grabbing J’s and pushing them away.

After only a few more seconds, N’s leader seemed to get frustrated enough with his reflexive wiggling.“That’s it! V, get in here!” J called out. Their squad mate soon appeared in the doorway and took a moment to lean against it.“Need some help?” V asked. She couldn’t help but smile a bit at the scene in front of her.“He won’t stay still!” J said.

“IhIhIhI’m tryhyhyihihing!! Ihihihit tihihickles!! Hahahahahahaha!!” N laughed. V walked over and grabbed both of N’s wrists, lifting his arms above his head and leaving multiple spots open to attack. For some reason, he laughed just a tiny bit harder, as if being unable to protect himself from tickle attacks made them tickle more.“There. Oh, by the way, have you tried his belly?” V asked.

“His belly?” J asked, just to confirm. N turned around to give his squad mate a glare, but it wasn’t very intimidating with how he was still smiling and giggling a bit.“V, why?!” He asked. A smug grin appeared on V’s face as J moved her hands to N’s belly.“Boss’s orders, N. Sorry, not sorry.” She shrugged. N turned back just before the attack and immediately panicked.

“Wait, wai—AIIIIEHEHEHEHEHAHAHA!!” He could barely finish his word with how much he was laughing. He tugged on his arms out of reflex, but V wasn’t going to let go.”NOHOHAHAHAHAHAHA!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! HAHAHAHA!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!” N could barely control his urge to wiggle out of this situation and definitely couldn’t control his laughter even if he tried.

His belly was a death spot, and V knew it. She would try to tickle him there every tickle fight they had, and that’s how she’d win. Or by tackling one of his other death spots. And now J knew about it.”HAHAHAHAHA!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! IHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHORRY!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!! HAHAHAHAHA!!” N cackled. His boss ignored him and kept scribbling and spidering her fingers over his belly, occasionally digging down to make him laugh a little more.”HAHAHA!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! HAHAHAHA!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

After two more minutes, J stopped and V let go. N rolled off of the chair and curled into himself on the floor to shield his belly from further attacks. After just a few seconds, J glanced over at V.

Too far?

V shook her head and displayed a message on her own screen, getting the hint that J didn’t want to say it out loud.

Give him a minute

When N caught his breath and stood up, V glanced over at J, as if expecting her to say something.”I assume you’ve learned your lesson?” She asked.

“Yes, boss.“ N replied. J picked her tablet back up and went back to what she was working on. V wasn’t done, though. She grinned at N and lifted her hands up with a slow, stalkish step forward.”Since you already got wrecked by J, I’ll give you a five second head start.” She said.

N bolted out of there and V burst out in maniacal giggles at his reaction.

#murder drones #murder drones n #murder drones v #murder drones j #lee n #ler j #ler v #murder drones tickles

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skepsiss · 2 years ago

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His People - Eddie Munson

Wrote a small piece for the October 13th prompt "Monster" for Eddie Month! @eddiemonth. This is a short fic about Eddie coming back as some kind of monster after the events of S4. I might explore this idea more if people like it. (If I continue it, I'll probably make it Steddie, lol). Believe it or not, this is fluff. This is extremely soft and a look into Eddie's mind when he himself doesn't know his own mind anymore. He is more like a stray cat than something scary though.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

CW: Descriptions of gore/violence, body horror (minor), discrimination, mention of blood.

For as long as Eddie could remember he had felt like a monster. You were made to feel that way when you grew up poor without parents to rely on. You learned how to shroud yourself in mystery and grow teeth and nails to defend yourself with. How to be a viper and snap at anyone that dared provoke you. They made you feel like a monster, so the only way you could behave was monstrous. The only defense against the venom of humankind was to become something so grotesque they’d leave you alone.

They’d made him a monster, a creature like from Frankenstein’s lab; just an amalgamation of parts that had never really belonged to him. Animated in the likeness of man, but deemed as cursed and obscene. How he’d been driven from town with pitchforks held high; a monster despite never being asked to be here. Despite never lifting a finger to harm anyone. Despite how little or fragile he really was.

Eddie had always felt like a monster. It was how you grew up to keep yourself safe. My daddy was a demon and my mother was a mutant and they cursed this planet with a boy so terrible that no one would dare love him. That was how he had lived. That was all Eddie had to assume his future held.

How was it then that when Eddie had become a monster–a real one with fangs and claws, whose heart didn’t beat and skin didn’t bleed–how was it that he had found peace? How was it that he felt more loved now than he ever had when he was simply human?

At his return, his mind was a jumble, and scents and thoughts wafted through the air around him as he tried to recall everything to do with his previous life. He could remember things as if he was looking through a foggy window, grasping at the thoughts, but not always truly remembering. It had been hard not to fall silent in a room of people, to feel included, wanted, and safe. But these people–his people–they had celebrated his return.

Eddie had come home to Hawkins stinking of death and polluted with tar. The places he had been wounded were marred with obsidian and tacky like dried blood. It didn’t hurt, but it had been disorienting. He hadn’t remembered anything–he hadn’t remembered anything but feeling like a monster. A freak. A bigger threat than he’d ever been… and he had curled up in his tub until he was found. Until warm water was sprayed on him to wash away the filth and a gentle hand had soothed his confusion.

Scents were the first thing that had helped him remember.

The way people smelled and the grounding odor of cigarettes. How Dustin, and Robin, Mike and Steve all had such specific scents that helped provoke feelings. The memories attached to those feelings came afterward, but he remembered feeling joy, concern, pride, and love. Good things. Good feelings. But even with the goodness he had shrunk in on himself, fearful that he’d frighten these people away even as they stared at him with glassy eyes and quivering lips. But he hadn’t scared them. He hadn’t scared them at all–he was a real monster and he had never had more people rally around him before in his life.

With time the obsidian marks faded and his skin looked unmarred by the events of the Upside Down. He couldn’t fully remember what had happened or how he had crawled out of hell, but there were instincts ingrained into him that hadn’t been there before. Food curled his nose and tasted like water or ash in his mouth; the pleasures of sugar and salt felt like torture when he ate them, but meat had never tasted so good.

Raw, bleeding, hot or cold, muscle and sinew, meat. He had craved it like a starved animal but had cringed away from the idea of killing something to feed his hunger. A fragment of humanity made him shiver and twitch with concern over the prospect. The idea made his mouth water, but it also flooded his guts with anxiety. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. Even like this. Even as a caged lion.

Eating was what had finally cleared his skin and Eddie had learned that abstaining from food for too long marked his flesh with the black substance once again. It made him look ghastly and Eddie had grimaced at his appearance as his body shifted under his gaze. He ate often and hid his unrest.

Still, the food had not been able to hide the secondary row of teeth that were wedged under his gums. It was as if he was a shark or a leech, but you could only really see the teeth when he curled his lip or smiled wide. They were weapons made for tearing and Eddie tried not to eat around his friends in fear the scene would mark him a beast. It was easy to talk around the fangs so long as he remembered.

The claws were harder to get used to and Eddie had struggled with picking things up and not accidentally destroying everything he touched. They were sharp and he had refrained from touching any of his people in fear that he would wound them. Nothing seemed strong enough to trim his nails, but they didn’t grow either. It was like he had knives attached to his fingers and when he had remembered what his guitars were he had wept over the idea that he’d never be able to play the instrument again.

Nancy had been the one to come up with the idea and Robin had helped implement the plan. Acrylic nails to cover the tips of his fingers–they wouldn’t apply a full nail but the acrylic could be rolled into a bead and then applied to Eddie’s hand to cover the razer points. Eddie hadn’t known to feel foolish at the time, but he felt self-conscious about it now–even if there didn’t seem to be any way around it. Still, the girls had painted his nails black and he’d be free to touch things unbiasedly for a few weeks until the acrylic chipped off. It worked and he had encouraged the girls to make his claws look jagged or imperfect instead of nice and polished. He’d wear them as a costume, even though eventually he hoped he could figure out how to do the work himself.

People had rallied to him and Eddie had felt meek in their wake. He had slunk around the party and shrunk into corners quietly like a scared animal, the onslaught of love and care too foreign and overwhelming to him. He didn’t even have his mind to joke and tease, it had just been too much even if he was inexplicably drawn to the attention still. He wanted it, but he didn’t. He needed it, but it felt like he was dying every time he got it. His energy had shifted eventually and he had learned that he liked compliments, so long as he could joke. He’d fain shyness and squirm, obviously touched but hamming up his reaction.

Before he remembered that it was strange he had warmed up to everyone in quiet, affectionate ways. He had leaned and rested his cheek on Dustin’s head, relishing in the softness of his curls. He had tugged at Nancy’s shirt sleeves and followed her around while she worked, watching everything she did with the utmost interest. He had curled up beside Steve on the couch and slowly stretched across his lap like a cat looking to disrupt their owner, soaking in the warmth his body provided.

Everyone had tolerated his oddities until slowly aspects of his humanity returned to him. Memories and social norms struck him at inopportune times and then flooded him with shame or nervousness. He felt like a toddler or enfeebled at times and it was difficult to keep up with everyone as they chatted around him. Still, whenever someone noticed him struggling they had softly explained in an aside or given him a reassuring touch. It was more than he could ask for and Eddie had fallen in love with every single one of his friends again and again. His people.

It felt like he was bursting at the seams with platonic affection for every single one of them. He was taken care of and adored, not just tolerated. People wanted him for the first time, monster and all.

He had been shamed into submission amongst the horde for his whole life, made to carry the mantle of vandal, plague, and devil whether he wanted it or not. Branded a problem–a defect. Branded a freak. He was everything he had been told he was his whole life but he did not fear it any longer. If being a beast earned him Lucas, and Jeff, Max, and Gareth he didn’t care. It didn’t matter to him because he was celebrated for remembering things and he felt safe just lingering close to his friends.

He was grotesque now; built from spare parts and left for scrap, but his people wanted him anyway and Eddie had never felt more loved in his life.

Chapter 2

#I want to snuggle and hold this weird little monster Eddie #he really sounds so fucking adorable to me #Eddie munson #stranger things au #my_writing #eddie month #Eddiemonth #Stranger things #Stranger Things Fic #stranger things fanfic #also I'll pledge my soul to whoever draws Eddie with acrylic nails

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trashyswitch · 7 months ago

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A Nostalgic Christmas Night

Clara and the Nutcracker are resting in the Pine Forest. When they're sitting there, Clara asks some questions about the Nutcracker's origins. Who is he? What was his family life like? When nostalgia becomes bitter, Clara is determined to turn that frown upside down.

This fanfic was suggested by @westerntails. I hope you thoroughly enjoy! And merry christmas one and all! I hope all your christmas dreams and wishes come true over the holiday season!

[FADE IN]

[Clara and the Nutcracker are walking through the pine forest, enjoying the dancing snowflakes that were accompanying them on their journey.]

Clara: “Oh, Nutcracker…How long must it take to get to the land of sweets? My little legs are growing tired.” [She looks down at her legs.]

Nutcracker: “My poor darling…” [Kneels down] “Do you need to rest?”

Clara: “Yes, I do.”

Nutcracker: “Very well. Let us sit on the chocolate logs up here.”

Clara: “Thank you, sweet Nutcracker.”

[The Nutcracker and Clara sit down on a log stump. The log looks to be made of a chocolate Yule Log, similar to the classic christmas sponge cake.]

Clara: “Thank you awfully. My little legs can only go very far. These slippers were not made for walking in this winter weather.”

Nutcracker: “Ah, I had forgotten you are wearing simple slippers.”

Clara: [smiles] “‘Tis no problem at all, dear Nutcracker.”

Nutcracker: “My large boots have been built to withstand this snow.”

Clara: “I see.”

Nutcracker: “I suppose you did not plan to walk in this snow?”

Clara: [Laughs] “I never could have planned a night such as this.”

Nutcracker: “I suppose you are right. No one could possibly plan to experience being shrunk down to size and bombarded by gingerbread soldiers and evil mice.”

Clara: [Laughs] “You could not be more correct! What a funny circumstance.”

Nutcracker: [Laughs]

[The Nutcracker and Clara go silent for a moment.]

Clara: “Oh Nutcracker?”

Nutcracker: “Yes, my dear?”

Clara: “Who were you before you had turned into a nutcracker?”

Nutcracker: “Well…” [shuffles feet] “Before I was the leader of the gingerbread soldiers, I was a boy just like you.”

Clara: [Tilts head] “Really?”

Nutcracker: “I had grown up like most children like yourself. The food was plentiful and I had many toys.”

Clara: [Looks at Nutcracker] “Did you have wonderful parents?”

Nutcracker: “Well…No. I was raised by my uncle. I used to work alongside him, until the mouse queen had cursed me.”

Clara: “If I may ask, who was your uncle?”

Nutcracker: [looks at her] “...Drosselmeyer.”

Clara: [gasps] “Drosselmeyer?”

Nutcracker: “You know of Mr. Drosselmeyer?”

Clara: “Yes, I do. He is my godfather.”

Nutcracker: [Smiles] “That is wonderful.”

Clara: [Smiles] “Drosselmeyer has known me since I was an infant. He is a charitable, jolly man.”

Nutcracker: “Oho, you fail to mention ‘mischievous’.”

Clara: “Mischievous?” [She tilts her head.]

Nutcracker: “Ah, I sense you have not seen that side of Drosselmeyer.”

Clara: [scoots closer] “Do tell, dear Nutcracker.”

Nutcracker: “I would love nothing more.” [He adjusts himself.] “As a young child, my uncle used to make the toys dance and roll around the house. It was wonderful to see, and it made my child oh so magical.”

Clara: [Listens intently]

Nutcracker: “My Uncle would make the wooden cars and the airplanes chase me around the house. He would make the building blocks move around as I played with them. The wooden animals would make noises to teach me the sounds of the animals.”

Clara: “That’s so sweet. Uncle Drosselmeyer made the dolls dance before you were given to me as a gift.”

Nutcracker: “I see…I suppose my uncle is still making the toys play.”

Clara: “He is.”

Nutcracker: [Sits up] “One of my favorite things he would do…He would make his woodworking tools come to life. The carvers would carve, the saws would saw, the sandpaper would smooth out the wood and the brushes would remove the dust.”

Clara: “That’s sweet.”

Nutcracker: “Often, my uncle would catch me sneaking around his workshop. If he noticed me, Uncle Drosselmeyer would send one of the flying dust brushes after me and tickle me senselessly.”

Clara: [Laughs] “That’s funny.”

Nutcracker: “Those brushes were atrocious. The mischief…It lasted for ages.” [He sighs.] “I miss my mischievous uncle.”

[The Nutcracker lowers his head with sadness. Seeing his sadness, Clara places a hand onto his shoulder.]

Clara: “Oh Nutcracker…Please do not cry.”

Nutcracker: “Oh, I would cry if I could.”

Clara: “Oh…please. It will be okay. I…” [She pauses] “I will let Drosselmeyer know you are thinking of him.”

Nutcracker: “Oh…You will?”

Clara: “Of course I will! I would love to.”

Nutcracker: [Smiles] “Thank you, Clara.”

Clara: “You’re welcome.”

Nutcracker: “It is very nice of you to pass on my message…” [Sighs] “However…I still miss him.”

Clara: “I know…I miss him too.”

Nutcracker: [sighs] I would do anything to experience those childhood memories again…”

Clara: “Oh…” [She places a hand onto his shoulder] “It will be okay.”

[The Nutcracker goes silent.]

Clara: [thinks for a moment, and raises her finger as an idea enters her name] “Maybe I can help you?”

Nutcracker: [Looks at Clara] “I beg your pardon?”

Clara: “I could help you experience those childhood memories again.”

Nutcracker: [Smiles] Oh Clara…I would love that…” [Looks away] “But how?”

Clara: [looks down at her hands, before reaching out and grabbing his sides] “Like this!”

Nutcracker: [Jumps and yelps] “Ah! What in the world?”

Clara: [tickles him] “Tickle tickle!”

Nutcracker: [Yelps] “Now hold on-” [starts laughing] “Oh goodness!”

Clara: [Smiles] “I see you are still ticklish, Mr. Nutcracker?”

Nutcracker: [Laughs] “I-I guess so!” [tries to leave the log] “Clara, please!”

Clara: “Yes, Nutcracker?” [grabs his shirt]

Nutcracker: [Gasps] “Uh oh…”

[Clara pulls the Nutcracker down to the log, making him sit and lay on his back. His head rests on her lap.]

Nutcracker: “Clara?”

Clara: “Nutcracker.” [She starts tickling his belly.]

Nutcracker: “No! [Laughs] “Clara! Oh goodness!”

Clara: “This is so wonderful! You are so ticklish, Nutcracker!”

Nutcracker: [Laughs] “I-I know!” [Laughs] “Th-Thanks for reminding me!”

Clara: [Laughs] “My pleasure.” [winks]

[The Nutcracker’s laughter continues as the dancing snowflakes fill the room, and the music starts playing. The snowflakes enter from all corners of the stage, continuing their previous routine from Act 1.]

Nutcracker: “S-Snowflakes!” [Reaches out to the left] “Help me!”

Snowflake 1: “No way!”

Snowflake 2: “Sorry, Nutcracker~”

Nutcracker: [Reaches out to the right] “Help!” [Pulls arm back as Clara tickles his armpit]

Snowflake 3: “We can’t!”

Snowflake 4: “We’re just snowflakes.”

Snowflake 5: “You’ll have to get out yourself.”

[The snowflakes start to dance off stage left, leaving Clara and Nutcracker alone.]

Clara: “Oh Nutcracker~ Are you having fun?”

Nutcracker: [Is wiggling around and trying to hide his belly.] “Y-Yes, but-”

Clara: “But what?”

Nutcracker: [laughs] “This is too much!”

Clara: “Oh, surely it is not. I have only tickled you for a few moments!”

Nutcracker: “Oh Clara, please!” [laughs]

Clara: “Please what, dear Nutcracker?”

Nutcracker: “A break!” [holds stomach] “I need a break!”

Clara: “Oh dear!” [Stops tickling] “I am so sorry. I didn’t tickle you too much, did I?”

Nutcracker: [Shakes head] “No no no. Do not worry, Clara.”

Clara: “Thank goodness.”

Nutcracker: “Because…” [Grabs Clara] “I’ve got you now!” [Tickles Clara’s belly]

Clara: [Laughs] “Hey!”

Nutcracker: “Now it’s your turn to be tickled, you silly goose.”

Clara: “Nutcracker, no!” [Laughs]

Nutcracker: “Oh, looks like the tickle monster is ticklish herself! What wonderful news!”

Clara: [Laughs] “Nooo! No fair!”

Nutcracker: “Poor Clara…” [tickles her armpits] “Don’t you know the classic words “As you sow, so shall you reap”?”

Clara: “Noo!” [Falls back and Laughs] “You are cruel!” [Laughs and giggles]

Nutcracker: “What a rude thing to say! I just might have to tickle you for that!”

Clara: “No!” [Laughs and wiggles around]

Nutcracker: “I wonder if these ribs are ticklish…” [Starts tickling Clara’s ribs]

Clara: “NO!” [laughs and kicks feet] “Not the ribs!

Nutcracker: “And why’s that? Is it…ticklish?”

Clara: [Shakes head] “STOP IT!” [Laughs] “Too much!”

Nutcracker: “Ah, is it becoming too much for you?”

Clara: [nods head while laughing]

Nutcracker: “Very well. I shall stop for the moment.”

Clara: [leans back with heavy breathing]

Nutcracker: “Are you alright?”

Clara: “Oh Nutcracker…” [giggles] “That was exciting.”

Nutcracker: “Hm…You know what?” [Smiles and nods his head.] “I agree. That was fun.”

Clara: “My legs are feeling a little better. Shall we proceed to the lang of candy?”

Nutcracker: “Of course.” [Gets up] “And Clara…”

Clara: “Yes?” [Gets up]

Nutcracker: “It is called the land of sweets.”

Clara: “Oh, my apologies. The land of sweets. Or as my family would say, ‘Страна сладостей’.” [winks]

[FADE OUT]

#the pine forest in the nutcracker #based on the original nutcracker ballet #developing friendships #origins of the nutcracker #true identity #family bonding #nostalgia #wooden toys #mentions of uncle drosselmeyer #ticklefic #switch!clara #switch!nutcracker

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