#which was still a lot of work and my neck hurts so much from hunching over my tablet | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wandafiction · 7 months ago

Text

Touch - Just Us Chapter 42

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse, PTSD and Mentions of Surgery

Word Count: 3384

Series List | Chapter 41 | Chapter 43

================================

(Wanda PoV)

I got a message from Nat telling me to come back in, which was weird because I thought she was going to come out. I look back to where Carol, Tony, Pepper and Morgan are in the waiting room. They want to wait till Y/n has spoken to Dr Raynor to see her because they don't want her to feel pressured into speaking. We also had a nice conversation about Y/n and how we all agree she puts others before herself way too much but that is something we can all work on helping her with. Not that we don't love her for looking after us, but it hurts to see that she has the weight of the world on her shoulders and is trying to deal with everything and not let people in. Thankfully she has opened up to me a bit, which Carol informed me was great progress for Y/n especially after only knowing her for a month.

I'm proud of that fact.

Anyway back to our schedule programme.

I knock lightly on the door, hearing Nat's voice quietly beckon me inside I almost melt at the sight of Y/n wrapped in her arms. The flashback or episode, whatever we call it, must have taken a lot out of her. I smile lovingly at the pair as Nat plays with the end of Y/n's hair her arm wrapped around Y/n's shoulder the other over her waist, while Y/n's head rests in the crook of Nat's neck. Its quite a funny sight to see because Y/n is over a foot taller than Nat, yet here she is being the little spoon for once: which makes the reality of the situation hit hard realising how small she looks with her body curled in on itself. My poor baby.

"How was it?" I perch myself on the edge of the bed as I drag my finger up and down Y/n's calf.

"It was good. She opened up quite a bit to me, more than I thought she might." Nat turns her head to look at Y/n a small frown forming on her face as she looks back at me. "I don't like that Steph woman."

"You and me both Nat." I join Nat in frowning as I think of her and what she has put Y/n through. "What did she tell you about her ?"

"Just that she would hit her, she didn't say it was abuse but I sort of gathered from her none answer to my questioning. She also mentioned how it started of great with Steph but soon turned into something else." I could cry at the idea of someone hurting Y/n like that, she is so sweet and caring. To use that against her when she was in such a bad place is fucking abysmal. If I ever see her I don't know what I will do, but it most definitely won't be pleasant.

"Anything else?" Y/n shuffles in her sleep her brows furrow slightly making my worry spike.

"No nothing else." Nat turns to see what I'm looking at her face morphing to worry as Y/n starts moving about more, and Nat loosens her grip on Y/n so not to hurt her but her arms still in place just in case.

"Y/n baby?" A small whimper leaves her mouth her brows almost touching in the middle as Nat starts to stroke around her face trying to get some reaction from her.

"Y/n, I need to wake up." Y/n's body jerks slightly mine and Nats worry growing.

A few seconds later Y/n's body jolts from Nat's arms, both of us too slow to react as Y/n falls off the bed onto the hard cold floor but it doesn't seem to faze her. Her eyes are tightly shut as her hands scratch at the back of her shirt trying to pull it over her head. Without another moments hesitation I jump from my spot, slowly making my way over to her as to not scare her by accident. She hunches her body over as she finally grips onto her top pulling it over her head and throwing it on the floor, her hands moving up and down her back and then to her front. I hear Nat gasp and realise she has never seen Y/n's scars before, well I guess this is one way to find out about them.

"Y/n can you hear me." I ever so slowly bend down in front of her making sure all my movements can be seen by her, even though her eyes are shut. "Baby?"

I see her nod, that's a good sign. That's better than what we were getting at Tony's office. I place my knees on the floor so I am matching her slouched height her arms still roaming her body.

"Baby can I hold you?" I hear a small whimper as her hand touches the scar by her ribs. "Y/n, I know it's hard to hear me and concentrate but I can't do anything without an answer."

"Please." Her tears are a starting to fall to the floor and it's taking everything in me not to cry, it is not what she needs right now. "Please touch my scars I need to know nothing else is there."

"Okay. Im going to do your back first. Is that okay?" I want to make sure she knows my every move so I don't cause a trauma related reaction.

"Mhmm." It's all I need to place one hand at the bottom of her neck, where the scar starts before tracing the scar ever so slowly with my fingers putting pressure on it so she can feel my hand. I make it halfway down her back when her had shoots up to hold my wrist, my movements immediately stop but she simply pushes my hand into her more. As I look at my hand and the scar below it I realise it's not just one scar here but maybe two or three. I've never noticed it before because it looked more like a skin blemish or something. It's just a few inches to the right of her spine so I use my other hand to put pressure on that one and her hold on my wrist instantly relaxes.

I look up to Nat with tears in my eyes, but when I feel Y/n's hand let go of mine I continue my journey down her spine, now noticing more and more scars as we go. I've never actually taken the time to look at them, take them in.

I mean that and she is pretty much always on top so I don't get to look at her back. Not the time Wanda! I know, sorry.

When I make it to the bottom of her spine her body relaxes a lot, her arms wrapping around herself like she is trying to protect herself from something. She leans upwards, her eyes fluttering open for a second before closing again, but not as tightly as they were. She opens her mouth to say something but all that comes out is a croak, so instead she pats the ground behind her. Instantly I get the message, but I keep my movements slow and steady. Once I am behind her I move my legs from under me so they are either side of her my ass on the cold hard flood but I don't care at this point. I look up to Nat.

"Go get Dr Raynor she is in the waiting room with the others." I ask Nat, hoping she will understand that Y/n may not fully let go until she is outside. I feel horrible to have to kick Nat out but I also feel like Y/n won't release her emotions if someone else is here. Hopefully she trusts me enough to let go in front of me, because I don't want her doing this alone.

"OK, I will be back in a minute." Nat gives me a simple nod before slowly making her way off the bed and out of the room.

Once she has gone Y/n pushes her body back into me making me gasps at the sudden movement, not expecting her to react so quickly to a change in the environment around her. Her back is pressed hard against my front, her head on my chest as most of her body is laying on the floor. She grabs my hands pulling them around her body, pulling my right hand down to the round jagged scar just below her right ribcage. I move my hand slightly putting light pressure onto it, the movement of my hand against the sensitive scarred skin causing a few goosebumps to arise but Y/n seems to completely relax in my hold. Her hands rest against mine as she pushes her fingers in between mine, her finger tips resting in my palm while her palms are on the top of my hands.

"I've got you dorogoy. You're safe." I rest my lips and chin against the top of her head as I speak into her hair practically.

It takes a few more minutes for her body to stop shaking with emotion, her eyes becoming dry but remain red raw while her cheeks are tear stained. It breaks my heart to see her like this, but I'm glad that I can do something to at least help ease her out of it: even if it's as simple as drawing random shapes or words of affirmation she has me. Her eyes are still shut and have been since she fell off the bed. Oh shit, yeah, she fell of the bed.

"Dorogoy you didn't hurt yourself did you? That's quite the fall you took?" Her eyes flutter open at my question, her head tilting backwards so she can look up at me and I smile at the sight of her and those extraordinary eyes. She shakes her head lightly at me as a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips.

"No, maybe a sore butt. However, nothing else seems to be hurt or broken which is good. I didn't end up with a black eye this time." She huffs out a laugh as I lean down to give her a kiss.

"That's good then. Dr Raynor and Nat should be up here any second. Do you need help getting back into bed at all?"

"I will be okay, could you just pass me my top please." Her eyebrows furrow once more, I hate that look on her face it makes me pout. "Sorry, just, did I take this off in front of Nat?"

"You did yeah. But she won't ask questions unless you want her too." I have a question of my own but don't know if now is the right time to ask so instead I ask something else. "Why did you need me to touch your scars?"

"I had a dream, or I guess you could class it as a flashback. I was back with Sarah and my daughter, then I was in hospital hooked up to wires. It was like an outer body experience while I was in the hospital, I couldn't feel what they were doing to me but I was outside my body watching in. I saw myself on the operating table with my spine being operated on. When I woke up in a daze, I needed to make sure it wasn't real. Trick my brain back to reality."

"So the pressure of my hand on your scars, allowed you to realise that's all that is there and that you definitely weren't on the operating table."

"Yeah." Y/n pushes herself up from the floor, me following closely behind to make sure she doesn't stumble. She climbs back on the bed tucking her feet under the covers, patting the small space next to her as she leans against the back of the bed. I beam at her and move to sit next to her, I move my legs under the covers but rest them on top of Y/n's. She puts her top back on, then lifts her arm up so I can lean against her as she wraps it around me pulling close. We relish in the moment as the room is engulfed in a comfortable silence, just our soft breathing can be heard.

There is a small knock at the door, and through the small pane of glass I can see Nat and another woman who I can only assume is Dr Raynor. Y/n waves them in, trying to keep the room quiet for as long as she possibly can. Nat notices the silence so makes her way to one of the seats by Y/n's side of the bed giving both of us a small smile before we all turn to look at Dr Raynor. She smiles at Y/n but turns to me holding out her hand.

"Hi, you must be Miss Maximoff? I'm Dr Raynor, but I go by Christina." I happily lean forward shaking her hand in mine.

"Yes that's me, Wanda is fine please." She gives me a polite nod, turning back to Y/n.

"So Y/n I heard you had a bit of a hiccup today?" Y/n shuffles to sit up straighter dragging me with her slightly so I can remain happily leaning against her.

"I had two actually." Her voice comes across more confident than I expected it to, and I have to hide the proud smile that wants to break out on my face, because smiling right now? Probably not the best timing.

"It's good that you can admit that. Did it happen just now?" Christina keeps going even though me and Nat are still present and I'm not sure how I feel about it, shouldn't this be something between the two of them.

"I had another flashback, fell off the bed, ripped my shirt off. Sorry about that Natasha. Uh, Nat. Then Wanda helped to ground me. Now I'm here, comfortable and calm." Y/n says it so naturally it's like it's rehearsed, maybe it is to a point.

"What was the flashback?" I see Nat shuffle slightly in her seat, and Christina seems to notice because she changes her question. "Do you want your friends to be in the room for this session?"

"Yes." The word rolled off her tongue effortlessly, making me smile up at her leaving a small peck on her jaw.

"What do they know?"

"Not enough." I lean my head back to look at her face, disappointment written all over hers.

"Why not?"

"Didn't get around to telling them."

"Y/n." Dr Raynor's voice is stern, and it sort of reminds me she is just that Dr Raynor. None of this Christina bullshit, she is Y/n's doctor not a friend. If she wants to be addressed by her first name, that's fine but not from me.

"I don't know." Y/n's voice almost sounds like a child who is being scolded by her parents.

"Y/n." That's all it takes for Y/n to snap.

"I'm scared okay!" She sucks in a breath at her words as she looks between me and Nat, a pleading look in her eyes.

"So I will ask you again, do you want your friends here for this session?"

"Yes." Dr Raynor smiles and nods, bringing the spare chair from the corner of the room to a few feet in front of the bed. We can still see her easily but I guess we only really need to hear her anyway.

"Why?" Is the first thing Dr Raynor asks after situating herself on the chair.

"Why what?" Y/n tries to hide her irritation in her voice, but it can clearly be heard.

"Why do you want your friends in this room?"

"Firstly, let me correct your statement. Wanda is my girlfriend, Natasha is my friend. So that means your question should be 'Why do you want your people in this room?'" I rest my hand on Y/n's thigh giving it a small squeeze, so she brings her free hand down to hold it and I can see Nat smiling at Y/n's words.

"Okay so why do you want your people in this room?"

"Because they need to know."

"But why can't you tell them later?" I get that Dr Raynor is a very skilled and highly recommended therapist but my God do I want to bang my head against the wall with all these questions, I would lose my patience at her and shout. But this isn't about me, so I can't.

"Because I won't have the strength to tell the story twice so close together." Me and Nat turn to look at her, and she bows her head at the admission.

"Ladies, you seem to have questions. Go ahead." Dr Raynor opens up the floor to us while Y/n seems to be collecting her thoughts.

"What story are you making her tell?" Nat is the first of us to speak.

"Y/n is going to recollect the day of the accident from start to finish. We have been working on training her brain on desensitisation. So when she has a reaction to something she can normally gain control back easily and ground herself. Today caused a lot of past trauma to resurface so when she tried grounding herself the copying mechanism didn't work because her brain completely shut down on her. So by making her tell the story it's like kick-starting her brain, because we will use her coping mechanisms throughout the story." Dr Raynor explains it in a way that we can understand and so we know everything that is about to happen.

"When you say past trauma, do you mean just the accident or do you mean her ?" It's the first question to pop into my mind after the explanation.

"If by her you mean Steph. Then yes, the way Y/n's brain and body react to things is due to the trauma which was not only caused by the accident but by Steph as well. Now I will not go into detail but it wasn't great for Y/n's PTSD for obvious reasons. So even though this may feel like a massive step back in progress I can assure it's not. It's the first time in a long time since we have had one of these episodes, and after being in zero contact with Steph for over 7 Months it has helped a lot. Anymore questions before we continue?"

"Just one." Dr Raynor looks at me motioning for me to continue. "Is there anything more we can do to help make sure we don't trigger, I don't know if that's the right word. But to stop us from doing something that can trigger a trauma response? Or some way that I can help her during an episode as she called it, where I don't have to ask if I can touch her because she doesn't always hear it when I ask."

"The word is trigger. Y/n doesn't have many but she has a few. We can discuss after she tells the story and I can give you some information on how to teach Y/n's body how not to react to yours so you don't always have to be so careful with your touch. It will also allow her subconscious to recognise your touch and should help ground her more. It can take a while, and at times be frustrating when you feel like it isn't working. But we can work on it if that is what you both want?"

I turn to look at Y/n, wanting her to make the decision whatever she is comfortable with doing even if that means not doing it. She looks up at Dr Raynor then to Nat then to me a smile playing on her lips.

"It's what I want. I want Wanda and Natasha to be able to help me." Dr Raynor notes something down in her notepad before facing the three of us.

"Let's get started."

================================

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda x you #just us series

21 notes · View notes

goforth-ladymidnight · 11 months ago

Text

A Second Chance

Ch. 5 of (let's face it, I have no idea)

Pairing: Tamlin x Lucien

Summary: Tamlin shares the rest of his story with Lucien (Note: the originally published ending was edited after I slept on it and thought of something I liked better. Hope you don't mind!)

Word Count: 5.3k

Read on AO3, or keep reading below:

Feeling restless and needing something to do while Tamlin was in the bathroom, Lucien took their empty coffee mugs into the kitchen. Ordinarily he would have left the mugs to soak in the sink overnight, but he had to do something. Anything.

Rubber gloves. Hot water. Soap. And scrubbing. Lots of scrubbing. He was no priest, but it was as though he was trying to cleanse the stains from Tamlin’s soul caused by someone else’s sins. It would take more than elbow grease to wash those away, but at least the dishes were getting done.

“Can I help?”

Lucien looked up to see Tamlin standing at the edge of the kitchen, and he let out a sad chuckle. “No. God, no. I appreciate the offer, but… you’ve suffered enough. I can handle a few dirty dishes by myself.”

Tamlin was already rolling up his sleeves, however. “If I can handle Jurian’s messes, I can handle yours,” he said wryly. He tucked his long hair behind his ears and added, “At least let me dry.”

Lucien smiled a half-smile. It was the first time he had seen Tamlin with his hair away from his face all day. He looked good with his hair down, but he looked… better this way. Calmer. More confident. Like he wasn’t hiding away from the world anymore. “Yeah. Okay,” he agreed at last. “Dish towels are in that cabinet there.”

The scene was positively domestic, and the routine strangely comforting. Lucien washed, and Tamlin dried. It was like they were roommates again, even though they hadn’t been half as tidy back in college.

Lucien stole furtive glances at Tamlin as they worked. Those same hands that had once made violin strings sing were now a little rough around the edges, but there was still a certain grace to his movements. His forearms were more muscular, and while his posture was more hunched than it had been as a practicing musician, he looked stronger, somehow. While his experience with that vampire of a woman had drained him, it had not broken him. Since telling his story, the tightness in his brow had already softened, and, although Lucien could have been imagining it, there was a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

As Lucien handed him the last dish to dry, Tamlin murmured a quiet “Thank you”, which surprised him.

“I should be the one thanking you,” Lucien said, peeling off the first rubber glove. “You didn’t have to help, but it went faster this way.”

“Well, you let me talk, and that’s what I meant,” Tamlin said, drying the plate slowly. “So, thank you. Again.”

“Anytime,” Lucien said sincerely, pulling off the last glove. As he set the gloves aside to drip dry, he shook his head and sighed. “I still can’t believe you went through all that.”

Tamlin turned the clean plate over in his hands, as if looking for a wet spot. “Yeah. I didn’t think you would,” he said softly.

“No. Of course I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant…” Lucien turned around to lean against the sink, then crossed his arms. “I can’t believe you went through all that by yourself.”

Tamlin shrugged a shoulder and set the plate aside. “Well, I had Jurian, so…”

That hurt more than Lucien expected. He tried to catch his friend’s eye and asked, “Didn’t you think to reach out to me at all?”

Tamlin shrugged again. “And say what? ‘Hey, Lu, I think the Dean decided she wanted a green-eyed wonder baby for Christmas, so she drugged me and probably raped me, so if it’s not too much trouble, would you please come all the way back from Scythia and hold my hand so I don’t feel like I’m totally nuts?’”

Lucien stared at him. “Tam…”

Tamlin’s face turned red as he turned away, and he ran a hand over his loose blond hair to rub his neck. “I-I just…” He sighed. “I didn’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Why would I get hurt?” He moved closer and touched his friend’s arm. “Tam, I care about you—”

He was startled, and a bit hurt, when Tamlin jerked away, like a skittish street animal. “I’m sorry,” Tamlin rasped. “I’m just—I-I don’t know… I’m confused about some things.”

“I’m not surprised,” Lucien said gently. “You’ve been through hell.”

Tamlin snorted and slowly rubbed the spot on his arm that Lucien had touched. “You don’t know the half of it,” he muttered.

“So, tell me.”

Tamlin made a face and looked away. “I don’t know… It’s getting late, and…”

Lucien’s heart twinged in disappointment as he looked at the clock. “Oh. Yeah. I guess.” He lifted his hands in a shrug and then slipped them into his pockets. “You know… If you wanted to, you could stay a little longer. Unless you’ve got somewhere else to be, I mean…”

“Not exactly.”

Lucien’s heart took a hopeful leap. “No?��

“I mean, I feel like I should be there when Jurian gets home, so…”

Lucien let out a wry chuckle and scratched below his ear. “Well, as much as I hate to admit it, I think Vassa really likes your friend, so I think the phrase: ‘Don’t wait up’ would be the best advice.”

Tamlin huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I think so, too,” he said quietly, then crossed his arms and looked away. “It was just a dumb excuse, anyway.”

Lucien leaned over and tried to catch his eye. “Why? Why do you feel like you have to give me excuses?” he asked gently. “We haven’t seen each other in seven years… This is our chance to catch up.”

That pained, teary look returned to Tamlin’s tired features. “It’s just… you’ve been so great,” he said in a soft, sad voice. “I’m just afraid that… that you won’t like me very much after this. And I-I couldn’t stand to lose you twice.”

“You didn’t lose me in the first place,” Lucien said firmly. “Tam, you were… you were raped. Drugged and raped and God knows what else.” He shook his head. “I don’t think there’s anything you could say or do to change the way I feel about you. And I mean that.”

Tamlin considered this with a tight sigh. “Okay,” he said quietly, gesturing to the living room. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

* * *

It was a beautiful spring day. The sun was shining in a crystal blue sky, the sparrows were chirping in the decorative evergreen hedges, and a soft, cool breeze ruffled the hair on the back of Tamlin’s neck. Unfortunately, it did nothing to soften the blow when he was slammed against the side of a cop car door. Wedged between hot metal and a hard body, his hands were wrenched behind his back as cold metal cuffs bit into the flesh of his wrists.

“Hey, go easy on the kid,” Jurian called out. “We’re cooperating, for godsakes.”

Tamlin grunted as invasive hands patted him down and searched his pockets. His point-and-shoot camera, his dorm room keys, his wallet, all were placed on top of the cop car without a care.

“Ah-ha,” a second cop said, triumphantly removing the folder Tamlin had hidden beneath his jacket and tucked in the back of his pants. “Is this what he took from your house, ma’am?”

Amarantha’s teary voice came closer. “Oh, my god, yes! That’s it. Thank you so much,” she gushed.

Still wedged against the vehicle, Tamlin could just see the Dean accept the bright red folder from the officer’s hands.

She clutched it to her chest as she shook her head. “I just can’t believe a student would try to break into my home like that,” she remarked. “I sometimes take students’ files home with me for review, but I never dreamed anyone would try to steal them.” She gave Tamlin a cold, brief glance, then told the officer warmly, “I don’t know what he would have done with this if you hadn’t arrived so quickly, officer.”

The officer touched his cap. “Glad you called us when you did, ma’am.”

She smiled and touched his arm. “Not as glad as I am. You should be commended for your service. I fully intend to let your captain know what fine men he has working under him.”

Tamlin rolled his eyes as the officer smiled and shifted on his feet like a little school boy. “Much obliged, ma’am.”

“Please, call me Amarantha,” she said sweetly.

Another officer approached her then and said, “Excuse me, miss. The detectives would like to get your statement, for the record.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” she said fervently, then stepped away.

She played the part like a true actress. If Tamlin hadn’t seen her that night in her office, he would have thought this was a different woman entirely. She wore no makeup, her hair was down, and she wore a loose white chiffon robe over her red tank top and leggings. Gone was the cool, calculating Dean who had slipped drugs into his fruit punch, and in her place was a victimized woman whose big house had nearly been robbed by a crazed, obsessed student and his reluctant partner.

The sound of another pair of cuffs snapping closed made Tamlin turn his head the other way.

“Easy there, newbie,” Jurian told the cop holding him. He rolled his shoulders and said, “I know the drill. You don’t have to tighten them so much. Give me a little wiggle room, ya know?”

“Yeah?” the young cop said, tightening the cuffs anyway, making Jurian wince. “And I suppose you and your little friend were just looking for a little wiggle room on private property?”

Jurian grimaced. “Ugh, save the wordplay for when you’ve made a few more arrests,” he complained. “You make me sound like some kind of pervert.” He caught Tamlin watching him, still pinned by the cop car. He sighed and shook his head as he looked away. “And, no, like I told you before, we were birdwatching.”

“Birdwatching,” the young cop scoffed. “A likely story.”

“Well, well, well.”

A buff, leather-faced, plain-clothes officer with iron gray hair strolled forward. As he approached Jurian, he smiled and slowly removed his dark sunglasses.

“If it isn’t my old pal,” he drawled, tucking the sunglasses into his pocket. “‘Birdwatching’, again, eh?” He jabbed a thick finger at Jurian’s chest. “I don’t suppose you have any photographic evidence to back that up?”

Jurian gave him a tight smile. “Officer Attor. Or should I say Detective Attor? Or how about Teddy. How are you, Teddy?”

“Me? Oh, I’m just fine and dandy,” the detective said. “I got a nice fat raise. A promotion. Not like you.” He smirked. “I hear your car got impounded again. What a shame.”

“Damn shame,” Jurian agreed. “Almost as shameful as you cheating on your wife. Or should I say ex-wife.”

The detective frowned. What happened next was too quick to follow, but suddenly Jurian was stumbling back, held up by the young cop behind him, and the detective was shaking out his hand and flexing his fingers.

“Whoops,” Detective Attor said coolly. “My hand slipped.”

Jurian’s tongue touched his split lip, and he let out a wry chuckle. “Yeah, real slippery.”

“Hey,” Tamlin called out, shrugging at his bonds. “Leave him alone.”

“Stay out of this, kid,” Jurian called out, but Detective Attor was already making his way towards the vehicle.

He braced a broad, tanned hand on the roof of the car and leaned in. “You don’t tell me what to do,” he told Tamlin in a low, dangerous tone. “You’re real lucky that the lady doesn’t want to press charges, even though she has every right to.”

Tamlin ground his teeth. He managed to turn his head enough to see Amarantha standing beneath a shade tree, still clutching the red folder as she gave a teary statement to another sympathetic-looking officer.

“If I had my way,” the detective continued, “you’d be taking a cold shower in lock-up tonight. I hear blonds are real popular there.”

Tamlin’s blood ran cold, but the man wasn’t done.

His dark eyes narrowed, and he slowly pointed at Tamlin. “I know you from somewhere.”

Before he could connect the dots, Jurian interrupted him. “Leave him alone, Ted,” he warned.

“Or what?” The detective straightened up. “Are you threatening me?”

“Oh, hell no,” Jurian said lightly. “I just know how this works. I heard what you said. We’re not being charged with anything, but you want to scare us a little, to make sure we won’t try this again. So, you search us, rough us up a bit, give us a warning, then send us on our way. Sound about right?”

Detective Attor chuckled. “You always did like the sound of your own voice.”

Jurian smiled a lop-sided smile. His split lip was beginning to swell. That was going to turn into a nasty bruise later, but he didn’t seem all that concerned. “Yeah. And you always did like picking on people smaller than you.”

“So? You tryin’ to tell me how to do my job, Mr. Private Eye, ‘I Couldn’t Take It So I Quit’?”

“Not at all. I’m just trying to give you a little friendly advice.”

“Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”

“Just this: back off the kid now before I contact the commissioner over a harassment charge later.”

“Harassment?” The detective scoffed and spread his hands wide. “I didn’t touch him. Unless you’re talking about that little mark on your face. You slipped and fell when I wasn’t lookin’… Didn’t he, Officer?” he remarked to the cop holding Jurian steady.

“Yeah, I must ‘a missed that one,” the young cop agreed.

Tamlin felt sick to his stomach, but to his surprise, Jurian only chuckled.

“Oh, no. I meant the paper trail leading back to you when you had my car impounded. Again.”

Detective Attor’s sneer faded, and Tamlin could tell he was thinking very hard about that paper trail. “You can’t prove anything.”

“Oh, yeah? You wanna bet your big fat raise on that one?”

The detective growled, then stepped back from the police car, and Tamlin. “Fine,” he muttered, then snapped his fingers. “Let ‘em loose.”

“Sir… Are you sure?” the other cops tried to ask, but he cut them off.

“I said, let ‘em loose. We’ll let ‘em off with a warning, since they were just ‘birdwatching’, and all that.”

Jurian smirked. “See? I told you,” he said smugly to the officer holding him.

The detective pointed at him. “And you. You need to learn when to stop talking. You always were a goddamn know-it-all.”

Jurian winced as his wrists were freed from the too-tight cuffs. Rubbing them, he said, “It’s one of my best qualities. You just never learned when to appreciate wit. It must be because you don’t have any.”

It took the detective a moment, then he growled and lunged forward. “Why you—”

“Teddy?”

They all turned as one as Amarantha stepped forward.

“Ted, I mean. Detective,” she said with a concerned frown. “You… you’re letting them go already?”

“Don’t worry,” the detective assured her with a kind, overly fond smile. “We’ll escort them away from your property once we’re done here.”

She pursed her lips. “Can I say something to my student first?” she asked.

“Certainly.”

Certainly not, Tamlin wanted to say, but she had already turned toward him. He couldn’t exactly back away, either, since he was still cuffed. The officer holding him had been too distracted by the drama unfolding around them to follow orders, so Tamlin was forced to remain a prisoner for a few minutes longer. As she stepped closer, he leaned back, trying to keep the cloying scent of her perfume out of his nose.

She looked into his eyes, tilted her head, and smiled sadly. “It’s good to see you again, Tamlin,” she said quietly. “I just wish it were under more pleasant circumstances.”

He bit his tongue so hard it nearly bled.

“I want you to know that I harbor no ill-will towards you whatsoever,” she went on. “It is unfortunate that you felt as though you could not come to me as you struggled this semester… I had such high hopes for you.” She sighed and shook her head. “And I am sorry to say that this will have to go on your permanent record. You can make an appointment with my secretary so that we can discuss it further.” She smiled coyly. “Unless you’d like to discuss it over drinks.”

Tamlin’s lip curled. “Go fuck yourself.”

* * *

Lucien barked a laugh, then clapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh, my god,” he moaned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt, but damn… Did you really say that to her?”

Tamlin’s cheeks turned pink as he smiled a rather shy smile. “Yeah. It felt pretty good, too.”

“I bet,” Lucien agreed, then clapped his hand on Tamlin’s shoulder. “Why would you think I wouldn’t like you after that? I think I’m even more in love with you now than I was before,” he teased.

Tamlin’s blush deepened as he chuckled and looked away. “Yeah, well…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “She didn’t press charges, but she wasn’t lying when she said it was going to affect my permanent record. I did try to break into her house, after all.”

“Yeah,” Lucien winced. “I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear that part.” When Tamlin still looked embarrassed, he continued, “Look, I don’t blame you. You didn’t feel safe going to the police. I get it. That doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“Maybe not, but… that’s not the end of it.”

“There’s more?”

“There’s more.”

* * *

It was late afternoon by the time Tamlin made it back to the University. He could only imagine what his fellow classmates thought when they saw a squad car drop him off, but he decided to ignore their stares and whispers and trudged back to his dorm in stony silence.

He had to walk past the common room to get to his room. He kept his head down, not wanting to talk to anyone, but a familiar giggle stopped him short.

Feyre didn’t see him at first, since the couch she was sitting on faced the television, but she wasn’t paying attention to that either. She was sitting sideways, smiling at someone with short dark hair and sun-bronzed skin, someone whose arm was not-so-casually draped across the back of the couch. Rhys.

It took her a moment to notice Tamlin standing there, but when she did, her smile vanished, her freckled cheeks turned bright red, and she leapt to her feet.

“Tam…” She smoothed the braid over her shoulder. “Where have you been? We—We’ve been worried about you.”

Tamlin’s gaze flicked over her crop top and low-rise jeans, then over to Rhys, who was slowly pushing himself to his feet, like a cat unfurling itself from someone’s lap. “Yeah,” he scoffed. “I can tell.”

Rhys finished tucking in the hem of his shirt. “Feyre was just telling me that you haven’t been sleeping well,” he offered. “I actually just attended a lecture on—”

Tamlin stopped him. “No offense, Mr. Psychology Major,” he said coolly, “but stay the fuck out of my head.”

“Tam…” Feyre chided as he turned to go.

Rhys said quietly, “It’s just a reaction to stress. Don’t take it personally.”

Tamlin turned on him and snarled, “You know what? Fuck you.”

“Hey,” Rhys said, spreading his hands wide. His voice was irritatingly calm. “I’m just trying to help.”

“By fucking my girlfriend behind my back. Thanks a lot.”

“Tam!” Feyre cried. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Oh, so it’s true, then.”

Her face was bright red. “We’re just friends. Besides, you’re never around anymore. You’re always skipping classes and leaving campus to hang around with that guy. If anyone is fucking anyone, it’s probably you.”

Tamlin’s face grew hot as he pointed at her. “You take that back.”

“Oh, so you can dish it out, but you can’t take it?”

“You have no fucking idea what I’ve been through, all right?”

“That’s because you won’t tell me!”

He considered telling her. He wanted to yell it. He wanted to scream out what had been done to him, but even as he opened his mouth to speak, he realized they weren’t alone.

Kallias and his girlfriend Viviane were sharing a beanbag chair in the corner and staring at him. Tarquin and his cousins were sitting on the opposite couch, their study books forgotten as they stared at him. Thesan was standing by the fridge, letting all the cold air out as he stared, too. When he noticed Tamlin glaring, he spread his hands wide and said, “Hey, I’m just here for the snacks, man.”

Tamlin growled and turned away. “Just—just do whatever you want,” he told Feyre quietly. “Break up with me already. I don’t care.”

“Tam,” she said gently, stepping around the couch to get closer to him. “I do care about you…”

“Yeah?” he said, looking her over. “You cared so much you forgot to put on a bra. Makes sense.”

Her face flushed as she frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re being a real jerk.”

“Don’t worry. It’s just a reaction to stress,” he said sarcastically, then stalked off.

Tamlin was halfway down the hall when Rhys grabbed his shoulder. He shook him off and whirled around. “Don’t touch me,” he snarled.

“Apologize to her,” Rhys said sharply.

“Leave me alone.”

Rhys stepped closer. “Not until you apologize.”

“Back off.”

Rhys squared up against him. “I said: Apologize.”

“And I said: Back. Off.” Tamlin shoved him.

Rhys shoved back.

The next thing he knew, both Tarquin and Kallias were hauling him off Rhys, everyone was shouting, and his nose was bleeding.

Feyre knelt beside Rhys on the floor, who was holding his jaw. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he sat up, helped by Thesan and Feyre. As she put her arm around Rhys’s shoulders, she looked to Tamlin and cried, “What is wrong with you?”

Despite having his arms pinned back by two of his friends, and hot blood surging through his veins and dribbling from his nose, Tamlin suddenly felt very cold, and very, very alone.

* * *

Lucien couldn’t help but stare, too, as Tamlin finished his story.

Tamlin’s arms were resting his knees, and his gaze was distant as he slowly wrung his hands, as if they pained him. “Of course, it wasn’t long after that that the school threatened to expel me if I didn’t get my act together. If my grades hadn’t been so excellent before that semester, they might have. It must be stress, they said.” He snorted. “What a joke.”

Lucien blew out his cheeks, then slapped his knees and got up from the loveseat to pace around the room. “Damn,” was all he could think to say.

“Now do you understand why I left?”

Lucien huffed a laugh. “Yeah. No kidding.” He ran a hand over his hair and stared into the crackling fireplace. “No shit.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tamlin push himself to his feet. “I’m just gonna… you know… get my coat and… and go.”

Lucien dropped his hand and turned to face him in surprise. “Why?”

“‘Why?’” Tamlin echoed incredulously. He spread his hands wide. “Weren’t you listening?”

“Yeah. I was. Tam, everything you told me is a goddamn tragedy. Just because you punched Rhys in the face for not respecting your personal space doesn’t make you a monster. You’re not your dad. You never were.”

Tamlin looked like he wanted to argue, but then his face crumpled and his chin began to tremble. “Goddammit,” he whispered, then covered his face and began to cry.

Lucien went to him at once. “Hey,” he said gently. “Come here. Come on, come here,” he coaxed, putting his arms around him. It was like trying to hug a bag of bricks, but at least Tamlin didn’t try to push him away.

Tamlin’s body trembled as he tried to hold back his tears, but when Lucien refused to let go, his arms lowered, then slipped around him.

“There you go, Tam. It’s okay,” Lucien assured him as his hold tightened. “It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

Tamlin’s fingers curled into Lucien’s sweater, then his head bowed against Lucien’s shoulder as his body began to shake with sobs.

Tears touched Lucien’s eyes as well as he held his friend and let him cry. Years of sorrow poured out of him like so much rain. And such pain. Lucien wished he could take it all away, but this would have to do for now.

When Tamlin’s tears began to slow, Lucien rubbed his back and murmured, “I’m really sorry I wasn’t there for you, man.”

Tamlin let out a shaky sigh, then sniffed. “It’s okay,” he whispered.

“No, it’s not okay,” Lucien said, pulling away to look into his eyes. “You needed me, and I didn’t know it. I was too busy pretending I wasn’t so goddamn homesick that I wished I’d never left Prythian.”

Tamlin’s face was flushed, and his long, golden eyelashes were wet. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Lucien said softly. “I really missed you.”

Tamlin sniffed and swiped at his nose with the back of his hand. “You mean you missed home,” he murmured.

Lucien shook his head. “No. I missed you,” he insisted, then squeezed his friend’s shoulders. “You, Tam.”

He wasn’t certain how it happened, but it seemed to happen in slow-motion, but in that blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of way. They were standing so close. Closer than friends usually stand. But they were more than friends, and always had been. And in that moment, they both seemed to realize it, too. Emotions were high, defenses were low, and thoughts were nonexistent when their mouths came together.

Tamlin tasted like coffee without any sugar, but his lips were sweet and gentle. Before Lucien could steal another taste, Tamlin suddenly broke away, breathing hard and blushing furiously.

“I-I don’t know why I just did that,” he stammered.

Lucien stared, scarcely breathing. “It’s okay,” he rasped, but his voice sounded somehow distant. Perhaps it was the blood roaring through his veins. Or his heart pounding in his ears. He swallowed hard. “Are you okay?”

Tamlin nodded quickly. His throat bobbed. “I’m okay.”

“Okay.”

Tamlin ran a hand over his hair, then jerked his thumb at the door. “Do—do you want me to go?”

Lucien managed to shake his head. “No.” He swallowed again and managed, “Unless you want to—Um, do you want to stay?”

“Uh… I, yeah. If—if that’s okay.”

“It’s okay.”

“Okay.”

In the awkward silence that followed, Lucien scratched below his ear. “Do… you want to sit down?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

It was almost laughable, the way they squeezed themselves onto opposite ends of the loveseat when there was a perfectly good couch on the other side of the coffee table. But having already sat down, it would have made the situation even more awkward if Lucien stood up to move away now. Tamlin was fragile, as fragile as spun glass. Lucien didn’t want to risk hurting him. Especially after that… that kiss.

He was still thinking about it when Tamlin broke the silence.

“I’m really sorry,” he blurted. “I—I’m… I’m just…”

“I’m not,” Lucien said quickly.

“You’re not?” Tamlin’s brow furrowed. “Not… not what?”

“I’m not sorry.”

“Oh.”

When Tamlin fell silent, Lucien risked nudging him, though gently. “What did you think I was going to say?”

Tamlin rubbed the back of his neck and winced. His face was deeply flushed. “Not gay,” he muttered.

Lucien couldn’t help his smile. “We’re the only ones here, Tam. You can say gay. Because I am.”

Tamlin blinked. “You are?” When Lucien nodded, he asked, “Since when?”

Lucien shrugged. “Since Jesminda, I guess.”

“Jesminda? Who’s Jesminda?”

“This drag performer I dated for a little while: Jessie. Jesminda was his stage name.”

“Oh. Oh.”

Trying to smooth out another awkward silence, Lucien offered, “We met three years ago. It was for some big charity drive, and he was performing. I approached him afterwards and told him I liked his style, then he asked me out for a drink. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but…” He shrugged. “It seems I have a thing for musicians.”

“Huh.”

Lucien smiled to himself when Tamlin didn’t seem to catch the hint, but that was okay. He had a lot to process.

While Tamlin sat back, deep in thought, Lucien decided to keep talking.

“Anyway, I really liked him, but he had really, really expensive taste, and my dad was starting to notice. He was already pissed about one of his sons dating a drag queen, but there wasn’t much he could do about it, except cut me off from the Autumn Corporation expense account.” Lucien shrugged at the uncomfortable memory. “Then, when I didn’t have as much to spend on Jessie’s outfits or take him out to fancy dinners every night, he broke up with me.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. But what are you sorry for?”

Tamlin shrugged a shoulder and looked away. “I don’t know. The fact that he only wanted to be with you for your money, I guess.”

“Yeah, well. It’s kind of hard to find someone who doesn’t, you know? Being a Vanserra, and all. And being a Vanserra man who’s only interested in other men only makes it harder. That’s why I don’t date much.”

“Oh.” Tamlin dropped his gaze and slowly ran a fingernail along one of the gold stripes of the loveseat fabric.

“What about you?”

Tamlin looked up, startled. “What about me?”

“Have you, you know, dated anyone since…?”

Tamlin snorted. “Since Feyre broke up with me? No.”

“So you never…?”

Tamlin’s cheeks flushed again. “Kissed anyone?” he said quietly, dropping his gaze. “No.”

Lucien nodded thoughtfully, then said, very gently, “I didn’t mind, you know.”

Tamlin’s fingers curled into a fist on the loveseat between them. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Lucien’s soft smile faded. If he wasn’t careful, Tamlin was only going to pull away again, or worse, shatter completely. “Maybe… it was just a reaction to stress,” he suggested softly.

That got Tamlin’s attention. He stared at Lucien, and Lucien stared back, until all of a sudden Tamlin cracked a smile, and the tension eased at once.

Tamlin chuckled and dropped his gaze as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Lucien smiled and let himself relax against his corner of the loveseat. “It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to,” he offered.

Tamlin kept his gaze averted as he murmured, “What if I want it to.”

Lucien sat up, but didn’t dare move closer. Not yet.

Tamlin continued, “What if it means everything, but it means losing you?”

“How could you lose me?” Lucien said fervently, “I’m right here.”

Tamlin’s eyes were once again wet with tears when he looked up and met Lucien’s gaze. “Outside of Jurian, you’re my only friend, and…”

“That’s not true. What about those people at Annie’s? That giant and that-that waitress. They really seem to care about you, you know?”

A sad smile touched Tamlin’s mouth. “Yeah, but…”

“But what?”

Tamlin’s throat bobbed. “What if it doesn’t work out?”

“What if it does?”

Tamlin didn’t seem to have an answer to that, but at least he didn’t move away when Lucien shifted closer. Nor did he pull away when Lucien reached out and gently covered Tamlin’s hand with his own.

“I’m willing to try if you are, Tam.”

Tamlin didn’t say anything at first, but he did slowly turn his hand over, then curled his fingers around Lucien’s. “Yeah,” he said at last. “Okay.”

#woop woop #new chapter #tamlin x lucien #lucien x tamlin #tamcien #acotar fanfic #my fanfiction #my writing

13 notes · View notes

infinitethree · 2 months ago

Text

It's not often that Theo finds himself struggling to sit down and talk with his best friend.

But after learning what massive secrets he's kept, Theo has…

Honestly?

He's avoided Aster.

It's been weeks since the truth behind Daz’s shiny facade was stripped away. Theo was the first ‘outsider’ to see the broken, mangled, wretched thing underneath all that carefully-crafted image.

In the moment, he had felt a numb sense of horror.

Out of everyone on the server, he should be able to spot someone like.

Someone using care for others as a form of self-harm; someone hiding their trauma behind a smile; someone who has been running for so long that stopping feels like death.

…Someone exactly like his dad.

He still remembers the first time he saw Daz. He had been wrapped up in the arms of his Dream, looking up over the back of the couch like he was waiting for them.

His surprise had been so genuine that he wrote it off, but…

How much was a surprise?

Maybe it doesn't matter. Daz had bluntly said he planned to use whoever showed up to commit a form of suicide by cop, so– does it really matter if he was surprised it was them or surprised it was anyone?

The awareness of how close Theo came to doing that the second time leaves him cold in a way he hates.

Frost is his refuge. When rage and fire fail, he knows he can retreat to the ice and become something untouchable.

This chill, though…it leaves him feeling small and helpless.

He knows Aster didn't enjoy hiding this from him. He also knows– or is pretty damn sure– that Daz did…all of that, as a fucked up form of self defense.

But he’s still hurt by it.

Aster had been in tears from whatever he's seen of Daz’s past.

He explicitly said he'd rather deal with the monster that made him sit still as he carved a brand into his neck than Daz's own brother.

If Aster was so distraught about Daz’s past…was it worse? Was it really–

He scrubs his hands over his eyes. Sleep is gonna elude him again because of how jumbled and chaotic his thoughts and feelings are, so he reluctantly gets to his feet.

Pretty much the only thing he can think to do is go upstairs and try and watch something, but he spots Lee's light on.

Worried, he pokes his head in.

Lee is hunched over his desk, hard at work on what looks like a bracelet.

Calcite beads! For Daz? Aww he's serious about claiming him!! Baby bro best bro

He walks up and taps Lee’s shoulder. His little brother yelps in surprise and jumps in his chair.

A snort escapes him as he’s glared at. “Don’t sneak up on me,” Lee snaps, putting his work down to try and smooth his ruffled feathers.

“Sorry, baby bro,” he replies, glad that this, at least, hasn't changed.

His brother huffs softly, looking away.

A sudden and familiar shift comes over Lee’s expression, though.

“You'll find what you need at the Swords and Shields building,” his brother murmurs.

Brow furrowed, Lee asks, “What do you need Aster for?”

Theo grimaces. “I mean…”

Lee straightens up. “You've talked to him since everything, right?” “...In a manner of fuckin’ speaking–”

“Theo.” “It’s a lot to fuckin’ deal with!”

Not the smallest part of which is that Aster and Daz apparently get together.

Which is weird! He and Astet had a goddamned heart-to-heart about how they had no interest in that sort of thing!

Lee points at the door. “Go talk to your friend, coward.” “I'm not a–!” “Go.”

He sounds just like D3! Oh my goddd he's adorable Best!! Bro!!! He do got a point tho Face the music my guy it's time to dance

Uhhhg.

======

After a flight filled with mild bickering and trying to figure out what to say, he opens the doors to the Swords and Shields training hall.

He can hear the sounds of a fight. Huh, weird– who the hell did Aster call to spar with him at this hour?

Silent as possible, he slips in and–

Holy shit! Oh my god?! THE BASTARD CAN FIGHT?!?!?

He finds himself in mute agreement.

Daz doesn't look to be having an easy time, exactly, but he’s also wielding an axe like he’s right at home doing so.

…Wait, doesn't he use daggers?

He sees that familiar, feral grin on Aster’s face that says he's enjoying himself– giving him another weird pang that he definitely doesn’t want to identify any time soon.

That expression suddenly falters and Daz lunges forward, slamming his axe down.

Aster stumbles as he respawns on the spot, then glares at Daz. “That’s cheap.”

“That’s pressing the advantage against a stronger opponent,” Daz scoffs, leaning on his axe.

“So you admit I'm stronger.” “It's been years since I thought otherwise. Unlike some people in this room, I'm not fixated on my physical strength.”

I think he means you? Yeahhh sounds like you crazy to throw shade after what he's done but he's also not wrong lmaooooo

Annoyed, Theo stalks forwards. “Don’t be a fuckin’ bitch.”

Daz rolls his eyes and turns to sit down on a nearby bench.

Without his shirt on, Theo gets a glimpse of weird scars across his back.

Those are magic burns. What kind of magic? I don't recognize that one.

He clears his throat. “What made that mark on your fuckin’ back?”

Daz squints at him. “...What?” “Fates say it's from fuckin’ magic. Was that the fuckin’ enchantment?”

Understanding seems to dawn on Daz. “Ah. No, but it was the inciting incident.”

Lightly, Daz answers, “I was shoved in a one-by-one cage and pelted with dozens upon dozens of potions, poison and instant health back and to back, in the span of about twenty minutes.”

There's a pause, and then Daz amends, “Forty-nine, apparently.”

He remembers Daz mentioning that cage years ago. It pissed him off at the time that anyone would think of doing something like that.

Daz hadn't mentioned he was actually inside it, though. Actually, he explicitly said he only saw it.

Aster sits down heavily on the bench, looking ill. “What the fuck was– all of that was for Dream?”

“I was just bait. The only thing he gave a shit about, unable to do anything but wait for rescue…again.”

The words are bitter, and understandably so.

Slowly, Theo says, “That much magic is fuckin’ lethal.” He’s picked up enough from his dad to know that much, even if he's never come anywhere near abusing potions to that extent.

There's a little shrug. “Dream’s obsession was probably kept me from dying. My theory is that that's the same reason the enchantment didn't immediately kill me, too.”

Tone way too fucking light for what he’s saying, Daz muses, “The world itself was even more closely entwined with admins than here. His will could have been powerful enough to bridge the gap…probably.”

Aster looks horrified. “Probably?!”

“I saw what he did to the program. I should be dead.”

It’s said so matter-of-factly that Theo doesn’t even know how to begin to respond.

Daz studies him, and Theo realizes that the scars on his back aren’t the only ones he has.

The guy has seen more fighting than Theo ever gave him credit for, huh?

Swallowing, scrambling for something that isn’t deeply depressing to latch onto, he mumbles, “Thought you used fuckin’ daggers, not an axe.”

He gets another shrug. “Axe is what I trained with. I’m too good to write off but not good enough to hide it better. I don’t have bullshit reaction time like you and the Comet, here.”

“I hate that fucking nickname,” Aster grumbles. “I know. That’s why I started it,” Daz tells him.

Wait, Daz came up with it?

“That was you?” “Among many other things, both good and bad.”

Daz gestures at the room around them. “All of this is because I went to him with a vision, after all. His switch from copying you in combat to being his own damn person was from me, too.”

…Shit, Daz really has done a lot, hasn’t he? Those two things alone really lead credence to why Aster didn’t ever come forward about him before now.

Aster is who he is because Daz pushed him into it. His best friend would be…fuck, he would be so much smaller, if he hadn’t been put on this path.

He’s not sure how to feel about that.

There’s a stretch from Daz, who idly notes, “He planned to keep an eye on me and report what I was up to, by the way. At least, at first. After a while…it was harder and harder to admit I didn’t have a point.”

Aster sighs deeply, not quite looking at either of them. “...He’s persuasive. I– I never liked keeping his secret, but–”

His friend’s face twists. “Theo, you know I don’t really like him. I think he’s–” “Careful how you speak about your future husband, dear.” “You’re a borderline sociopath who fucks with others for reasons ranging from petty to unresolved trauma, you’ve positioned yourself so you can’t be effectively helped, and you have so many fucking secrets it gives me hives,” Aster finishes.

Daz clicks his tongue softly. “I’m sure we’ll deal with this in couple’s counseling one day.” “I’ll setting for you dealing with your shit in regular counseling, that’d be a great start.”

Weird dynamic Familiar tho?? Yeah nah they obviously do this a lot Oh I meant that they’re, like, Theo and Day lmao

“Excuse the fuck you, Dad n’ I aren’t like them!”

That outburst makes Aster grimace. “I mean…” Almost smug, Daz hums, “Apparently I’m ‘just like Day’, and you and Aster are practically twins, so…”

He glares at both of them. “Fuck you.”

Daz’s eyebrows shoot up. Amused, he says, “Careful, Aster seems the jealous sort.”

Aghast, Aster tells him, “Shut the fuck up.” “But hon, it’s really funny to see you all flustered!” “I could strangle you. You fucked with the server code so deaths wouldn’t show up here, anyway–” “Yeah? How sure are you about how that works? Because I could have given it a limit, Aster. I could have made it so that it shuts off when I kill you,” Daz cackles, and fuck is it still weird to see him acting like this!

Aster’s jaw ticks, and then he slams his eyes shut. After taking a long, deep breath, and visibly calming himself in a way Theo suspects he learned mainly to deal with Daz, Aster answers, “If you keep being a bastard, I won’t sleep with you again.”

WHAT NANI THE FUCK HOLY SHIT WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN THEO GET AN EXPLANATION NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW

Face turning red, Daz snaps, “Don’t– say it in a way that’s– fuck you, don’t imply shit!”

Sounding and looking smug, Aster tells him, “Doesn’t it suck to get your bullshit turned back on you? I’ve already told you–”

Oh, so this is– so fucking weird, because Aster grabs Daz’s chin and continues, voice low, “I’ll go as low as you do.”

Daz all but throws himself away from Aster, ending up on the floor.

Evidently satisfied at whatever the fuck just happened, Aster turns back to him and explains, “He went missing for about sixteen hours yesterday. Apparently he was in a hidey-hole we overlooked, working on code with Innit. After he tried to storm off and failed miserably because he hadn’t eaten in ages, we had a chat. I made him lay down and have decent sleep for probably the only time since before he showed up here.”

Having apparently recovered, but still a bit red-faced, Daz mutters, “The coma was pretty good sleep.”

Hmm, that’s definitely not a good enough answer by literally any metric.

Instead of even beginning to touch on– literally any of that, Theo asks, “The fuck did you do before?”

“Dream. It stopped working when he betrayed me.”

…Shit, that’s depressing.

Aster adds, “Daz was working on that code because he made a deal with the Showrunner, by the way. He sees me like I see him, so…”

Daz suddenly squints. “You two had an entire pow-wow about how aro/ace you are? When the fuck was that?” “First party you inflicted on me about my earring from Theo. You know, where you riled up my own goddamned subordinates into thinking it was an engagement thing?”

Scoffing, Daz– who seems to not want to get up off the floor, at least for the moment– tells him, “In my defense, it wasn’t my idea to start with.” “Yeah, no, you still caused enough parties and well-wishes that that doesn’t actually matter, Daz.”

Theo remembers that party. He also remembers how Daz had seemed so damn hangdog about upsetting Aster.

Yeah, Aster’s dislike of him continues to only make more and more sense.

Flippantly, Daz says, “Pissed me off that you got earrings.” “Why the fuck–”

Aster goes quiet, suddenly looking stricken. Weakly, he says, “Oh.”

…Is this what it’s like to see him talk with the Fates? Or with his Dad?

Annoyed at being left out of the loop, he asks, “The fuck did you see?”

Daz looks up at him right as a beam of moonlight hits him. He looks surreal and dreamlike as he answers, “I abandoned my only claims before I came to Sanctuary. I couldn’t properly reciprocate anything I got here because I thought it would kill the other party.”

His heart sinks and squeezes at the same time.

Theo knows, better than pretty much any other non-admin, the impact that bond items have on an admin.

His mind is cast back a long, long, long time ago. When his dad was teetering on the edge of deciding if he’d take Theo and his brothers in…his eyes had gone to little trinkets they had given him.

Those were claims to him, he suddenly realizes. His dad had spent a literal lifetime adrift, but what seemed like clumsy attempts to reciprocate his kindness were the lifeline he had so desperately needed.

All over it again, it hits him how mangled Daz actually is. He was never a wounded baby bird, but instead a weasel that a cat had gotten ahold of and torn to shreds.

Even if he left plenty of wounds in return, he’s still been bleeding out in plain sight for years.

“...Why did you fuckin’-- why Lee?”

He’s stared at almost like he’s stupid. “If I was going to reject half of myself because I wasn’t ready to kill him, it’s dumb to do that by halves.” “But why,” Theo presses, still not understanding.

If it had been the Fates screaming at him, he doesn’t know that he could have held strong. At the time, Lee was basically nothing to him– so why was it so important to Daz to keep him alive?

Daz sighs, stretching his legs out into a more comfortable position. “Kindness like that is easy to snuff out. Is it really so hard to believe that I needed a liferaft, too?”

…That’s it? Everything Daz has done, all the secrets and lies and scheming– all because Lee was kind?

There’s a wry smile. “There was only ever one other person who was kind for mostly-selfless reasons. Even Dream, for all he did for me…he needed me. He needed to have someone who could never leave. I was his salvation, his chance at turning his prison into a paradise.”

Quietly, Aster murmurs, “Friendship isn’t selfish, Daz.” “Tubbo didn’t have anyone else to turn to, but he also wasn’t completely trapped. Not until…”

Despite Daz trailing off, Aster looks sad. “You still blame yourself.” “I was the one who made him stay. Without me, he would have gone off to sail the seas with his cousin. At every step, he stayed for me…and it led to a shallow grave.”

Almost unconsciously, Daz rubs the bracelet on his wrist. Dark green and red– bloodstone, Theo is pretty sure.

Has he…worn that in memory of his Tubbo? Theo remembers him getting it before he even left Summer Hills.

“Nobody stays without a reason. In Sanctuary, I’ve made sure people had ample reason– power, manipulation, food, even gratitude. The useless and worthless are discarded, so I made sure nobody would ever see me like that,” Daz continues.

His need to be useful wasn’t just a part of the lie? The shape maybe but not the content fuuuuuuuuck he’s so– so– can we go back and kill his Dream I feel like that’d be good for everyone Yeah actually let’s go kill him Murdertrip!!

Theo doesn’t dignify the Fates with a response. They damn well know that nobody is going back to that place– a berserk admin with nothing left to lose is too dangerous to go against if there’s any other options.

He sighs deeply. “Really need to do fuckin’ therapy, Daz.” “It’s easier to talk to people I know. I don’t like most Technoes.” “Isn’t fuckin’ Aleph in your secret club? N’ don’t you fuckin’ hang around Attie all the time?”

Daz rolls his eyes. “Most is the operative word, Theo.”

Reaching up to yank his hair out of its ponytail, Daz continues, “Atlas is one of my closest non-Council friends, actually. I think highly of him and like watching him work.”

Wait, don’t they have duo items?

Aster notes, “You should probably back that up if you really care.” “Shut up.” “Consider– no. You never have, after all.” “Let me work on the people I care the most about first, then I’ll work my way outwards.”

Resting his elbows on his knees, Aster stares Daz down and tells him, “And where do I fit into that?”

Daz looks like a deer in headlights. “I– what?” “I mean– we already know we get literally fucking married, Daz. With a kid–” “That’s then, this is now!” “I dunno, if we’re not fighting…maybe it’s worth working towards that future.”

They have a kld?!

“A kid?!”

Both of them seem to startle, almost like they forgot he was even there. Aster laughs, “Yeah, we uh– with the whole…future vision shit, uh– we both saw her.” “The fuck did this happen?! Why didn’t you fuckin’ say anything?!”

Aster opens his mouth, and then breaks out into laughter. Daz joins a beat later, smacking his hand on the floor. “Holy fucking– gods, yeah, that tracks!” “Oh my gods, she’s gonna be untouchable. Literally, the aura of her power will make people part in fear,” Aster cackles.

He’s not following. “The fuck’re you two on about?”

Theo is definitely not grumpy and feeling weird that the two of them have this– shared knowledge that Theo can’t even begin to touch, on top of years of existing secrecy.

Daz snickers, “You bawling like a baby when she says your name for the first time.” “Looks about ready to pass out the first time he holds her, terrified he’ll drop her,” Aster adds, grinning at him.

Yeah that tracks honestly idk man maybe Theo shouldn’t be trusted with a tiny kid how do they adopt her actually??

Disgruntled, he asks, “How do you two fuckin’ adopt?”

Still amused, Daz tells him, “No. Surrogate, I think.” “She has your freakishly blue eyes, Daz, even as a newborn.” “And she’s named after you, so–”

Ohhhhh fuck, that’s– that’s a whole different ballgame, then.

After giving himself a minute to let his brain reboot, he says, “...Dad’ll have a fuckin’ grandkid, huh?”

They both give him weirdly similar looks of confusion, so he stammers, “I– uh, if dad walks Aster down the fuckin’ aisle–”

“I’m already family in all but name, so– yeah, actually, she would be his grandkid,” Aster murmurs.

Daz snorts softly. “Don’t look so sour, Theo. I know you’re jealous I’m stealing your fiance–” “I can literally snap your fuckin’ neck, Daz.” “--but you’re gaining a godchild and niece.”

That…is so fucking surreal to consider that he doesn’t even know what to say.

Daz continues, “Alongside Lee and Raine, obviously.” “Can you even do three?” “Why not? Our kid, our rules. Anyone objects and we can direct them to the three of them and say, ‘okay, so you get to tell them to duke it out for who gets to stay the godfather.’ Actually, wait, that sounds funny.”

Do we even know how to like…deal? With girls? Uhhhh should we start looking into shovel talks now? I feel like now. What why literally LOOK at Daz. a kid that’s the spitting image of him??? A GIRL??? Oh my god that poor thing she’s beauty, she’s grace, she’ll probably be able to supplex you into your FACE

The server is in no way, shape, or form ready for a kid of any gender raised by those two.

Theo is reminded of how Daz ever so gently pleaded with Lee to let him go. How his primary reason had been to protect Lee, no matter the cost– how he had been willing to throw his own life away because he thought that Lee’s safety was in jeopardy.

It had been his primary angle when trying to convince the rest of them, too.

He shivers at the idea of that kind of loyalty and devotion being given to anyone, but especially a kid that they’ll be planning for.

Deciding that, actually, he doesn’t want to think about that right now, he switches topics. “So why’re you both out here this late?”

“I was indulging the fightslut tendencies of my future husband. He did something nice for me, I did something nice for him,” Daz answers, evidently unbothered by the shift to something else.

Aster rolls his eyes. “I am not–” “Up until apparently me, the closest thing you’ve had to that kind of feeling is during a fight,” Daz retorts, looking smug, “Tell me I’m wrong, bitch.”

“I– shut up.” “I’m totally convinced, what a persuasive argument.” “I–!”

Obviously floundering, Aster sputters, “If I am, then so is Theo!”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Don’t fuckin’ drag me into whatever the fuck is happening.” “I’m just saying–” “Aww, babe…are you already bored with me? I’m sure I can find some way to make things more fun–”

Euuhg, gross gross gross, hearing that kind of simpering tone from Daz, directed at Theo’s best friend–

Aster, evidently in agreement, lunges forward and slaps a hand over the bastard’s mouth. Daz looks painfully smug as he ends up flat on his back, looking up at his evidently future husband’s bright red face.

“I’m going to kill you,” Aster growls at him.

Daz reaches up and rips Aster’s hand away. “Go on, do it. I fuckin’ dare you.”

There’s a long moment of seething, before Theo visibly sees a lightbulb go off in Aster’s head.

Grabbing both of Daz’s wrists, he slams them against the ground and leans in so close that Theo would swear they’re kissing.

Instead, his face moves to Daz’s ear and he tells him, voice low, “I thought you didn’t want to play this game, love. I can stake a public claim on you any time I want– make the server think of you as mine. If we’re going to get married eventually anyway, I don’t see the point in waiting.”

Daz squeaks in dismay, looking like he’s trying to shrink away.

“When you aren’t being a bastard, it’s not hard to see why I turn into such a simp for you. Having someone like you all to myself…I’m starting to see the appeal.”

Holy shit When did we start watching a romcom is this like– how you catch an admin?? Nah fam I think Daz is just a freak

Aster suddenly pulls back and grabs Daz’s shirt. Tone back to normal, he demands, “Your paycheck is what?!”

…Huh?

“You goddamned bastard, you bitched and moaned about getting me paid more when you make that much a month?!”

Daz gawks at him, still bright red, but eventually seems to recalibrate to the shift. “I– yeah, dipshit, I perform a vital service! I’m one of the highest paid people on the goddamned server, right after Management and the T3!”

Aster shakes him. “Theo does not get paid that much!” “Wait, really? Huh, then I guess only Management makes more than I do.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and then Daz rolls his eyes. “Your paycheck isn’t nothing, asshole.” “It’s not– that!” “That money is literally going to be half yours eventually, why are you bitching?” “I–”

Aster sits up so he’s kneeling. He sounds unsure as he says, “That’s…not the point…?” “You already know I’m stupid rich, this shouldn’t be a shock to you.” “Still not the point.”

A long, annoyed sigh comes from Daz. “If you can promise to keep your fucking mouth shut and let me work, I’ll let you spend a day watching me at the Welcome Wagon so you see why I’m worth that much. Shockingly, I do actually have a lot of things I have to get done, and if I’m busy answering stupid questions, I won’t be able to be as productive as I need to be.”

There’s a long, contemplative silence.

“...Only on one condition.” “The fact that I’m graciously allowing you watch a master at work is more than you deserve, so choose your words carefully.”

Aster leans down just a little again. Staring into Daz’s eyes, he demands, “Feed me.”

Daz is silent for a moment, and then asks in a tone both exasperated and confused, “Why?”

“I have spent literal fucking years having you spike any food you make for me. I want the real thing. I want to actually enjoy your cooking for once, without being afraid it’ll come back to bite me later.”

…Is Daz’s cooking actually that good?

Clicking his tongue, Daz answers, “Incentivize me.” “...What do you want?”

There’s a long silence, and then, very quietly and not looking at Aster directly, he mumbles, “You should know what I want.”

With a weirdly gentle expression, Aster says, “...That can be unrelated to the whole– seeing what you actually do. Cook for me and I’ll be your sleep aid.”

“Does your…nevermind. We can talk about it later.” “It’ll have to be your room, obviously.”

Daz turns his head to look up at Aster, seeming to search for something.

Then he blinks and says, “I don’t go in tomorrow. Today, technically.” Aster snorts, “I’ll grab something to sleep in, then. Make me lunch or something.”

There’s a relived smile, and then Daz says, “I’ll go get ready. See you!”

Theo can’t even begin to move fast enough, even if he wanted to, to stop Daz from opening his console and teleporting away.

Aster is left kneeling on the ground, a look between happiness, frustration, and confusion on his face.

Slowly, his friend gets to his feet, then looks at him. “That’s the best conversation we’ve had since I’ve known him, by the way. He’s just– like that.”

Finally able to find his voice, Theo demands, “The fuck was all that?” “All what?” “All of–” Theo grimaces, gesturing at the place Daz had been.

It seems to take Aster a moment to realize what he means. “Oh! Yeah, that’s– psychological warfare. I already told him that if he wants to take the low road, I’ll go lower. I’m sick of putting up with his petty bullshit, so…I’m punishing that, but rewarding good behavior.”

That very much does not sound like something one should say about their future spouse.

“Like a fuckin’ dog?” “Theo, I understand you aren’t aware of his sociopathic tendencies, not really,” Aster laughs, an edge of mania in his voice. He grips Theo’s shoulders, saying in a way that sounds almost like seething, “I finally have a way to give just as good as I get. Maybe he’ll stop being a bastard once I stop letting him shove me around.”

He squints. That sounds even less like a good thing for a partner to say.

Then again, what does he know about this kind of thing?

Daz IS kinda a bastard tho Maybe some snork mimimi will fix him? Power of love, baby!! He literally thinks any kind of affection is like, transactional, though I dunno…Aster seems to kinda just want food? That seems like a low price??

He shakes his head. “I’m not gonna fuckin’ understand it. Go fuckin’ appease your man, or whatever you fuckin’ are.”

“No idea, honestly. I might have to actually ask him out or something– taunting him like that…”

Aster laughs a little, far less villainous-sounding, as he starts to walk towards the door. “I think I get part of why he targeted me so much. It’s kind of fun, actually? It’d do his ego good, too, remembering that he’s not untouchable.” Theo is left in the Swords and Shields training hall, struggling to figure out how the fuck he’s supposed to explain literally any of this to his therapist.

#chronotag #chaotictheseus #poisonousachilles #dazzlingvoid #shiningaster #Theo is so deeply confused about Literally All Of That #Theo: I know almost nothing about romance #Theo: but that sounds? wrong?? to describe a partner????#also YES they did more or less make up #Innit sweating increasingly hard bc well FUCK they're gonna be like #SUPER pissed when they realize that its known Azira is not THEIR future #also its hopes of like. having Aster as a friend are kind of...lessening. as Daz warms up to him.

4 notes · View notes

oh-my-hubris · 3 months ago

Text

Loyalty Of Angels 1: The Last Thing I Want Is Your Attention, But It's Still On The List

Jhonny, ex-gang leader turned humble bar back turns himself into Logan Thackery to prevent an assault on Divinity's Reach

1322

Jhonny exhaled, his shoulders tense, as he waited to speak to the last person in Tyria he wanted taking notice of him. There was nothing for it though; Quinn had come to him about Two-Blade Pete’s plot to poison Divinity’s Reach and he couldn’t stop Pete on his own. And as much as old, selfish, impulses tried to demand it, Jhonny couldn't just turn a blind eye.

He had a lot of experience with crime, but he’d never seen anything like the brutality Two-Blade brought to the table. A lot of people would be hurt and for no discernable reason, as far as Jhonny could tell. He couldn’t figure out Pete’s reasoning and no one who was still in the gang would talk to him. This was sort of expected—he’d quit and in their eyes that made him a traitor. At the end of the day, it didn’t really matter.

You didn’t just poison a city’s water supply. That was fucked up.

So he waited, elbows on his knees and anxious heart hammering away in his chest, and when the door opened he stepped into Captain Thackeray’s office. He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck and through his short blonde hair. He looked unassuming, which was generally the point, but now there was the worry that no one was going to take him seriously because of it.

Being underestimated in a fight because you’re five foot five and chronically underfed is one thing.

Being underestimated while trying to report something serious to the Seraph was something else entirely.

The office was darker than Jhonny had expected. Lights and a window, but the stone seemed to swallow the light more than reflect it. The desk was a sturdy slab of wood, strewn with papers, a mug set haphazardly to the side and he could smell the acrid tannins from chicory tea that had been way over steeped. Too many leaves, black, just trying to wring as much caffeine out of the plant as possible.

The Captain himself was just as regal in person as he seemed when he was being paraded through the streets. Broad, handsome, shiny armor. It made Jhonny feel grubby and small and he hated it. Captain Thackeray gave Jhonny a tired look that might have been a glare if he’d been less aware that he needed Jhonny’s help.

“My men say you’ve got word of a terror attack in Shaemoor.”

“It won’t stay in Shaemoor,” Jhonny said flatly. “They’re Salma district locals, Shaemoor’s a test run.”

Thackeray’s hands came up, fully gauntleted, and he rested his chin on them. “You seem incredibly well informed.”

Jhonny slouched, shoulders hunching up around his ears. He kept his hands where they could be seen but every inch of him wanted to jam them into his pockets.

This was it.

“I used to run the gang behind it. I quit two years ago in favor of more honest work.” It was a narrow miss but he didn’t roll his eyes when he said ‘honest’. The work he was doing now was more honest, but he still felt that being dishonest and surviving was better than the alternative and people who thought otherwise were stupid. “Most of the gang didn’t take it well, so I haven’t been able to get as much information as I wanted. Moreover, Two-Blade Pete’s got a wicked streak two miles long and would probably skin anyone who talked about it.”

Thackeray raised an eyebrow.

“That’s not hyperbole,” Jhonny said with a scowl. ”Man takes ‘a pound of flesh’ very literally.”

“How did you find out then?”

“My friend Quinn is an idiot, but generally good natured,” Jhonny answered with a shrug. “The plan had him spooked so he came to me. I can’t deal with this bullshit entirely on my own, so I’ve come to you.”

Thackeray studied him for a moment. “Which gang is this?”

“We didn’t really have a name,” Jhonny answered. He forced his shoulders down. “It was supposed to be a small, loose affiliation to keep each other fed and from being stepped on. It was less about being close or causing trouble and more about sharing resources or having enough people to handle certain jobs. I’ve been trying not to pay attention since my retirement. I don’t know if Pete’s picked a name.”

“You said you used to run the gang?”

“Yeah.”

Thackeray nodded and then looked up at him, his grey eyes boring into Jhonny’s blue ones and his mouth cut to an unamused frown. “Are you the ‘Little Knife’?”

Man was direct, at least. Jhonny could generally respect that.

“I was, anyway.” Jhonny shifted his weight uncomfortably. “I’ve always thought it was a singularly stupid nickname. It’s ironic, see, because I use a greatsword.”

“I’m surprised you’re selling out your old crew.” There was the bitterness Jhonny had expected. The disdain.

Jhonny’s expression flattened but he otherwise didn’t rise to the jibe. “This is a far cry from cutting purse strings and anyone you catch involved has it coming. As far as I can tell, Pete doesn’t even have a reason for poisoning the water supply. He just likes watching people hurt. Probably talked Howler into it by flattering her ego and offering a ‘testing ground’ for whatever nonsense she’s cooked up.”

“You look younger than we thought,” Thackeray said, unwilling to let it drop. Jhonny wondered if this conversation ended in handcuffs and a cell. He had spent several years avoiding being arrested, and it would be unfortunate, but not unlikely, if it happened now. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Nineteen.” Not like Thackeray was a senior fucking citizen himself.

Thackeray’s surprise only lasted a minute. His hands came apart and he rested one on his desk, the other still curled under his chin. “So now what? You give us the information in exchange for a pardon?”

The disgust was there, but ignorable.

Jhonny shook his head. “I didn’t come here to bargain, Thackeray. I give you the information and help you stop it. Then you can do with me as you’d like.”

This seemed to take Captain Thackeray aback. He studied Jhonny’s face for a few tense, silent moments. He was young, really, a half-decade Jhonny’s senior at most. There were no wrinkles or crow’s feet, nothing marring his complexion save a red ring around his eyes like he didn’t sleep well.

Jhonny bore the scrutiny silently, forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths through his nose and not bolt like a scared bunny.

Satisfied with what he was seeing, apparently, Thackeray then nodded. “Tell me everything.”

Jhonny opened his mouth and began to explain what he knew, starting with Quinn’s debt to Pete and Alice’s kidnapping and trailing from the incident at the apothecary’s into the plot to poison the water supply.

Thackeray just listened, his lips pressed tight together and his jaw set but his eyes clear and almost understanding. Once or twice he stopped Jhonny to clear up some detail or ask about the intricacies of gang politics around Divinity’s Reach, but otherwise he was silent.

“There’s no time to waste,” he said as Jhonny finished. “We have to stop them.”

Jhonny offered a grim smile. “That is literally why I’m here.”

----------

“Our sources say Pete knows where your friend Quinn is hiding. The gang thinks he snitched about the apothecary job.” Thackeray gave Jhonny a look that he would almost describe as sympathetic as he gave the news. “You need to get Quinn out of there before he gets hurt.”

Jhonny hoped it was the hardest decision he would ever have to make. He shook his head, closing his eyes like he was expecting a punch. “Quinn’s my friend but… I have to help you stop the attack on the city. Pete will kill a lot of people if we don’t hurry and he’ll injure many more. I know Howler and she’ll be the person behind it. I can deal with her while your people deal with whoever they’ve conned or threatened into this mess.”

His eyes opened when Thackeray set a hand on his shoulder. He looked up suspiciously, but Thackeray just gave a stern nod. “Come on then, we’re running out of time.”

Jhonny ran with the Seraph to Grenth’s Spoke, planning to head the gang off at the pass. He summoned Betty and his other minions and Thackeray blanched, but only for a minute. His eyes moved from the greatsword to the flesh golem to Jhonny.

“You’re a necromancer?”

“I’m not very good but no one ever expects it,” Jhonny shrugged. “The greatsword is mostly for intimidation. Which is something you need when you’re my size.” He looked Thackeray up and down. “Not that you can relate.”

Thackeray chuckled a little. “No, I really can’t.”

The smug chuckle almost stopped Jhonny dead in his tracks. Captain Thackeray, bane of the criminal underworld, wasn’t supposed to chuckle. Smuggly or otherwise. He was supposed to be barely human. A mass of muscle held together with righteousness the way Betty was held together with Grenth’s magic and Jhonny’s will.

It didn’t matter in the immediate. In the immediate, what mattered was stopping Doc Howler and the rest of his Pete’s gang from poisoning the water supply for no discernable reason.

Jhonny couldn’t think of a good reason to poison the water supply, but Pete didn’t even seem to have a bad one.

Jhonny spotted Doc Howler and broke from the Seraph to run her down, Betty charging ahead. He only felt a little bit bad when Doc Howler tried to throw something at his face and he stepped to the side and backhanded her with his greatsword. The flat caught her in the jaw, lifting her slightly and sending her to the ground. The sword was old and ratty, taken off a seraph corpse when he first left the orphanage. The chipped blade left cuts on the bandit doctor’s neck and jaw. She went down and Betty pinned her until the Seraph picked her up, cuffing her and dragging her away from the fight.

“Bastard!” Howler shouted. “Traitor!” Then she started to laugh. “Too bad your friend Quinn won’t be around to celebrate.”

Jhonny whirled around and stormed up to her. She was taller and looked down her nose at him with malice.

“What about Quinn?” he demanded. His heart pounded in his ears. He knew. He already knew but he didn’t want to believe.

“He’s dead,” spat Howler “We heard about the apothecary. You don’t ruin the apex of my scientific career without consequences. Two-Blade Pete carved him up like a Wintersday roast.”

The Seraph pulled Howler away but Jhonny just stood there, feeling cold. He almost didn’t hear it when Thackeray cleared his throat.

He tried to tell himself that Quinn would have been dead before he got there anyway. Quinn had been hiding in Shaemoor, Jhonny was talking to the Seraph in Divinity’s Reach for the first time in his life. He wouldn’t have gotten there in time even if he’d left the Seraph to deal with Howler.

Knowing that… didn’t really help.

“I overheard,” Thackeray said gently.

“She was shouting,” Jhonny replied with a bitter shrug. “Quinn was never a good friend, but he was my only friend.” He closed his eyes and exhaled, banishing Betty and the other minions. “Pete’ll be after me next. I spit in his face by siding with the Seraph and the man never could take an insult.”

“You helped us,” Thackeray said. “I’m not going to just abandon you to his mercy.”

Jhonny had half a heart to refuse, but he couldn't, he needed Pete dead and if he couldn’t do it, surely Logan Thackeray could. He swallowed and gave a small nod. “He’ll come for me at work… home... They’re the same thing. There’s a little bar down in the Salma district, I’m the bar back and the bouncer and I… I sleep upstairs.”

“I’ll meet you there.” Thackeray promised.

Jhonny looked up at him, into light grey eyes and long brown hair. The small crease between his eyebrows as he frowned, the sleepless rings around his eyes.

And Jhonny believed him.

He didn’t know when the last time he trusted someone to actually show up had been.

Probably Alice, back before he fucked that up.

He breathed a little easier. Just a little, but still.

“Meet you there, Captain.”

-------

“It followed me home,” Jhonny told Andrew as he entered the tavern. It wasn’t fair. Andrew had taken a chance on him two years before when he hadn’t had to. Jhonny was street scum and a criminal, but the older man had seen promise and offered a second chance.

And Jhonny’s past had been dragged over the threshold.

“I’ve got a plan to deal with it,” he continued. “But you and Petra need to go up to the Seraph headquarters where you’ll be safe.”

Andrew looked like he was about to argue and then let his shoulders slump in defeat. “I always knew this would happen.”

Jhonny winced. Andrew's son, Katsulas, had told Andrew this would happen. Katsulas was a dick, but he hadn’t been wrong about this. Jhonny was bad news, no matter how much he tried not to be.

And this time he’d even arguably done the right thing.

“Don’t let them hurt my bar,” Andrew said, dejectedly.

“Your bar is in good hands. A genuine Krytan hero is showing up to help me out,” Jhonny promised. “But Pete’ll hurt Petra just to see me squirm.”

That was all it took to convince Andrew. He took Petra out to find the nearest Seraph patrol and then head up to the headquarters in the Royal District to wait until either the bar burned down or Jhonny and supposedly Captain Thackeray dealt with one of Divinity’s Reach’s more problematic bandits.

For his part, Jhonny sat down on one of the bar stools and felt exposed. He was intimately aware of the way his collar left the back of his neck vulnerable. How thin his shirt was, useless for stopping a blade. He hunched over the counter and counted his breaths.

In. One. Two. Three. Four. Hold. One. Two. Three. Four. Out. One. Two. Three. Four.

In. One. Two—

The tavern door had a rusty hinge that squeaked when it opened, but even without that, the heavy, gauntleted, hand knocking politely on the wood interrupted Jhonny’s meditations.

He looked up, turning his head and offering Captain Thackeray a thin smile.

He’d shown up.

Jhonny had hoped but if he was honest, he was pretty used to being disappointed and had largely resigned himself to dealing with Pete alone.

“Buy you a beer?” Jhonny asked, mostly to get past an awkward silence before it actually settled.

Thackeray looked him over, and then shrugged. “While we’re waiting.”

Jhonny slid off his stool as Thackeray settled on the one next to it. He made his way around the bar, took some money out of his pocket and dropped it in the till before filling a tankard with ale and setting it in front of Thackeray.

“When this is over, we can see about laying Quinn to rest,” Thackeray said.

Jhonny thought about snorting and demanding to know why Thackeray was pretending to care, but there was genuine sorrow on the other man’s face. Genuine respect for the choice Jhonny had made and the consequences of it.

Jhonny sighed instead, miserable. “Pete’ll have cut him into harpy chow. There won’t be enough of him to bury.”

“I’ll go with you, then, to say your prayers to Grenth.”

Jhonny looked at the floor. “I’ve never been much for prayer. The Gods abandoned us, I don’t think praying does anything but set the minds of the living to rest. And I need… I owe him this discomfort.”

He should have been there for Quinn the way he always had been. One more scrap. One more fight on Quinn's behalf. Quinn had been counting on him to show up.

He wouldn’t have made it on time.

But he might have… he might have done something.

But the city was bigger. Some kid might've drunk the poisoned water and died in agony. If Jhonny had stopped that from happening even once…

But it hurt. He was the traitor Howler had said, just not to her and not to ‘the gang’. He had betrayed Quinn for the big picture.

He never wanted to see the bigger picture again.

Thackeray sipped his beer thoughtfully at that.

Jhonny poured a beer for himself, putting more money in the till. He wouldn’t steal from Andrew in general and particularly not now.

He moved back around the bar and took the stool next to Thackeray. They drank their beers in silence, waiting for Two-Blade Pete to show up and try to kill Jhonny.

And honestly, Pete was probably mad enough, and hopefully dumb enough, to try and take the two for one.

Jhonny’s thoughts kept slipping to Quinn. So much smaller and so much taller. Smart enough to see trouble coming and too dumb to get out of the way. Everyone had always said Jhonny would be better off without him.

Deadweight, they called him.

Well he was definitely dead now.

The hinge squeaked its warning and Thackeray and Jhonny both turned to look up, ready to deal with the problem.

Rather than Pete, Alice—Riot Alice—was standing in the doorway, staring distrustfully at Thackeray. She looked at Jhonny and her mask fell, revealing misery. She was a pretty woman, red hair shorn short to keep it out of her way. Long limbs that were faster and stronger than they looked, scars on her cheeks, lips, arms, and chest from a hard life lived fast.

They’d been… something… to one another. Alice had been more reliable than Quinn. They’d been teenagers with all those hormones and bad ideas. She’d taken his leaving as badly as everyone else but with her he’d tried to explain.

They weren't lovers and he didn't know if they were friends but they had, occasionally, been fucking.

And that was something.

“I heard about Quinn,” she said. “I didn’t actually think you were dumb enough to be waiting here. Pete’s on his way to kill you.”

“Yes, you did,” Jhonny pointed out. “But, I’m actually counting on that,” he said darkly. “Because of what happened to Quinn. What are you doing here?”

Her gaze slipped back to Thackeray, suspicious, hateful, and then back to Jhonny’s. “I took your advice, I’m getting out. Don’t do something stupid like getting yourself killed.” She stepped over the threshold and moved towards them, Jhonny got off his stool and moved a little ways away from Thackeray.

“I can handle Two-Blade and I have backup, because I’m not an idiot.”

“You are an idiot,” Riot Alice pressed her mouth to his as she reached him. The kiss was short and sharp and when she pulled away she was glaring at him. “Don’t die.”

He nodded and she took off running.

“Your… uh… girlfriend?” Thackeray asked, clearly uncomfortable.

Jhonny shook his head. “Back when I was The Little Knife she sorta was. She’s nice enough, once you get around her sharp edges.” Mind, Alice was mostly sharp edges.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“You’re gonna have to, she’ll bite her tongue off before she talks to the Seraph. I’m a little surprised she didn’t just bolt when she saw you.”

Thackeray opened his mouth to reply and then closed it and gestured to the door with his chin as Two-Blade Pete stepped over the threshold, a knife in each hand.

“You think you’re smarter than Pete, do ya?”

“Yes,” Jhonny said flatly, reaching up to the hilt of his greatsword. His heart beat quickly, but this time it was pumping his blood hot and angry. Quinn had been mostly harmless, more stupid than dangerous. He hadn’t deserved what Pete had done to him.

A lot of the anger was inward. Jhonny had failed him.

This was all he could do to make up for it.

Pete looked at Thackeray. “Your girlfriend want a piece of me too?”

“Now Pete,” Jhonny said with a mad glint in his eye. “The Captain of The Seraph would want to arrest you. My buddy Logan is just here to put you in the ground.” He grabbed his greatsword and swung, forcing Pete back. Letting go of the sword with one hand as it reached the end of the arc, blade dipping, Jhonny curled his right hand into a fist and jerked it upwards. His flesh golem, Betty, ripped out of the undamaged floorboards. A tangible representation of Jhonny rage and the one gift the Gods had given him.

But Two-Blade had earned his name and you didn’t get his age on the streets without some tricks and a mean streak. He jerked to the left, narrowly evading Betty’s charge, and darted into Jhonny’s guard, too close for Thackeray to defend. He offered a wicked, hateful smile and jammed his knives into Jhonny’s sides.

Or tried to. A gauntlet grabbed Pete’s right wrist and wrenched it out of Jhonny’s side, twisting it backwards before the knife could go too deep.

Fucker was fast.

And he thought that about both Pete and Logan at the same time, somewhere under the heady mix of adrenaline, anger, and pain.

Jhonny grit his teeth.

Polished steel flew past his face and slammed into Pete, knocking him backwards, blood spewing out of a definitely broken nose and a number of lacerations (because Logan was kitting out in plate mail).

The right knife was still in Jhonny’s side and he dropped his greatsword and grabbed it, stabbing it into Pete’s throat as the man tried to stagger forward. Unarmed but still angry.

Jhonny listened to the death gurgle, sweeter than music, and managed to pull enough saliva into his mouth and spit it onto Pete as he twitched and bled out around the metal stuck in his windpipe.

He staggered backwards and strong arms caught him. The world started to drift away, and he was floating.

“It's over,” he heard Logan say. “I've got you.”

-------

Jhonny woke up with the sun on his face. Given as the last thing he remembered before this moment was being stabbed and falling, this was… notable. He was also in pain, an ache radiated up from either side of his torso, just above the hips. He could feel the air on most of his torso, so he was shirtless. And the bits that weren’t bare felt bandaged, given how tight they were and how much of his nineteen years had been spent intermittently injuring people and being injured himself. He opened his eyes and turned his head a little to watch the blue and gold robes of a Dwaynan Priestess walking away.

Huh.

He scanned the room and his eyes caught on Thackeray where he was sitting on the nearby stool, unarmored, reading a book.

Jhonny’s expression turned to a small, confused, frown.

Some irrational part of him had just… figured the armor was attached to man.

Thackeray lowered the book and turned to look at him more fully as he moved. He gave him a small smile. “Feeling better?”

“Feeling like I got stabbed,” Jhonny shifted so he was sitting, batting off Thackeray’s hands as he tried to hinder or help or whatever. He looked around some more but there was no one in the small room but Thackeray.

“I appreciate the rescue,” Jhonny said. “But don’t you have work to do?”

Thackeray smirked, which was probably more illegal than anything Jhonny had ever done as The Little Knife. “The Captain of the Seraph has a relatively relaxed day since one of the worst bandit leaders was taken out, and your buddy Logan wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Jhonny smiled a little, despite himself. “My buddy Logan, huh?”

“The Seraph need the help and you’re good at it. What do you say?”

“I say look me up if there’s trouble but I’m not joining your fanclub.” He smiled a little brighter. “Steel just isn’t my color.”

#gw2 oc #gw2 fanfic #logan thackeray #OC: Jhonny Jackson

1 note · View note

etherrreal · 3 years ago

Text

“an ode to kenma’s cheeks”

Pairing: kenma x reader Genre: fluff, borderline crack tbh Summary: kenma’s the captain of the itty bitty booty committee WC: 1,158 Warning: I do mention pegging once and make allusions to spanking, so, 🔴hey minors, skip over this one, please🔴 And if you're just gonna ignore that demand, just don't be dumb enough to interact with it :) A/N: This is deadass the best fic I've ever written. Pun intended. -Luna

Kenma's ass has seen a lot of action.

He's fallen on it—hard—in volleyball practice and matches throughout high school, sat it on hard plastic chairs throughout university lectures and during meetings as he built up his business, and treated it very terribly with cheap fabrics and bouts of swamp ass from sweating so much.

And, despite him denying it, there have been periods of time where it remained unwashed as he got sucked into a new release of a long-awaited game.

Yet, somehow, despite its grueling history and present-day which consists of sitting on it for over 12 hours a day in a chair definitely not meant for comfort, his cheeks manage to stay nice and perky.

You've complimented Kenma's behind many times before, each resulting in him brushing off the sometimes sweet, and other times vulgar, comment with a face so red he tries to hide it with his long hair—and eventually, farther into your relationship, simply ignoring you. It's hard to count how many times you've approached him from behind with grabby hands as he frantically finds a place to sit down or lean against a wall so you don't squeeze his bum. Or how you'll wait until the last second before he sits down next to you before your hand jets out to rest under his butt, getting a nice handful of his ass—although, lately you've pulled back on that move ever since he caught onto your devious tricks.

And every year, around your birthday, when he asks you what you want him to get you, you simply tell him "the chance to peg you, please." And every year, you go to sleep without the feeling of what's between his cheeks, yearning for what could've been. Maybe next year, you tell yourself.

All things considered, he has a nice butt for his stature and his current lack of a real exercise regime, and as long as it stays firm, there won't be a day that goes by where you're not itching for a touch of that tuchus.

It's around midday when you decide to take a break from your own work to have a quick snack and refill your water bottle. Your slippers loudly scrape the floor as you lazily make your way towards the already lit-up kitchen. When you turn the corner, you find Kenma at the stove for once.

He's standing by his boiling ramen noodles, hair falling into his eyes while he scrolls on his phone. He resembles a shrimp with how hunched over he is, his back forming a lovely and not at all uncomfortable looking c-shape.

You've reprimanded him time and time again about his bad posture—sometimes with a gentle comment and shoulder squeeze and other times with a chop to the back of the neck—and him sitting in a gaming chair all day definitely doesn't help the bad habit. And watching him simply standing there but still maintaining the awkward stance is irritating, to say the least.

When he switches his weight to his other foot, cocking his hip towards you, you take the opportunity to aggressively poke one of his cheeks through his sweatpants. He yelps like a Chihuahua, dropping his phone on the counter so he can soothe the area you practically stabbed with your finger. The glare he sends your way may look threatening to most, but just like a Chihuahua, he's all bark and no bite.

"Fix your posture. If you end up like Quasimodo, I'll dump you for Hinata," you joke, pouring some water into your bottle.

He's still rubbing his bum when he whines, "Did you have to poke me so hard to get my attention?"

"What? You should be used to pain on your ass." Despite you actually alluding to him complaining about how his butt hurts after sitting all day, his face being bright enough to light up a room means that his mind must've wandered somewhere towards the bedroom. To spare his dignity, you decided to glaze over his reaction. "You should know by now that I'll take any excuse to get my hands on that booty of yours."

"I know. Trust me, you've asked me enough times about where I'm going 'double cheeked up,' or how it 'must be jelly because jam don't shake like that'—which I still don't know the meaning of—or how it looks like two pigs fighting under a blanket in my pants," he complains, rolling his eyes as if he's hearing your jokes real-time.

"Oh come oooon. Like you don't love the attention."

"Absolutely hate it." You can’t see his face since he’s decided now is the best time to pay attention to his boiling noodles again, but you can tell from the way he says it that he’s hiding a growing smile.

"Oh really?" You tease, arching an eyebrow. "So, when we were cuddling two nights ago and you were laying on top of me, you /didn't/ put one of my hands on your head and the other on your butt?"

"Nope. You're losing it. I don't remember that happening."

Your mouth opens in fake bewilderment, staring at his messy bun while he shakes the package of ramen seasoning to put in his noodles. How dare this girlboss try to gaslight you and gatekeep his ass? This will not stand.

A loud slap echoes in the kitchen as you slap his ass and Kenma nearly jumps out of his skin, dropping his whole flavor packet into the pot and whipping his head around quickly to glare at you. Before he can begin his scolding, he quickly turns back around to grab his chopsticks so he can fish out the packet from the boiling water, whining your name as he's pinching the soggy thing between his chopsticks.

"That's what you get for being a little liar," you joke. As he's grabbing a bowl from the cabinets up above, you hear him grumbling under his breath, no doubt cursing you with each word. You slide in next to him, wrapping an arm around his hips, hand dangerously hovering near his butt. "Honey, you have to give in to butt touches. It's inevitable. I will not stop until I am satiated."

"That's never going to happen."

"Exactly. Ya see, we're on the same page after all!" You look over your shoulder at the wall clock, finding that you've spent quite a bit of time shooting the shit with Kenma instead of grabbing a snack and drink like you were supposed to. You reach into the cupboard, nabbing a snack and grabbing your water bottle to make your retreat. "I'm going to get back to work. Good luck with your stream!"

As you're walking away, you feel the sting on your ass first before the same loud slap as earlier registers in your ears, followed by Kenma's snickers. You turn slowly and see his smug face, smirking at you with pride.

"What can I say? It was inevitable."

Written by: Luna

want some more shitpost fics like this one? join our taglist!

#kenma x reader #kozume kenma x reader #haikyuu x reader #kenma imagines #kenma kozume x reader #kenma kozume #kenma x y/n #kenma x you #haikyuu imagines #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #our writing #luna writes #kenma fluff #haikyuu fluff #etherrreal spice #minors dni

239 notes · View notes

shigarakis-cumdump · 3 years ago

Text

An Unhealthy Obsession- Shigaraki x reader

https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shigarakiscumdump/works

(If you like what you read, consider supporting me on Ao3!)

Summary: Short yandere fic based off the song “An Unhealthy Obsession,” by The Blake Robinson Synth. Orchestra.

Cw: yandere and stalker tendencies

Word count: 1.9k

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*..✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*..✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*..✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Many people would call Shigarki the creepy type if they saw him on the street. Slouched over, face always buried in his phone with his hoodie covering the rest. He looked like your local creep who hung around popular stores and malls by himself. He would go to one mall in particular, even more so after he realized they had a Game Stop there. He would frequently go in to browse, and while he was checking out one day, he met you behind the counter.

“Will this be all?” you ask in your sweet customer service voice, with your head slightly tilted. Shigaraki froze in place. No one this pretty has ever talked to him before.

“Um, yeah, that’s all.” he says quickly, looking down to the ground while you're bagging his games.

“This one’s my favorite; I’ve been playing non-stop since it came out, have fun with it!” you say as you hand the bag back. And you play games? Could it get any more perfect?!

“Thanks,” he managed before walking out of the store and finding the closest bathroom. He locked the stall door and sat down. With his heartbeat in his cock, he couldn’t stop thinking of how innocent your voice sounded, and how pretty you looked. He decided from then on you were his next obsession.

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

Shigaraki visited the store so often he learned your schedule. He would watch others make small talk with you, and it made him want to steal you for himself. His blood boiled when someone else would make you laugh. Soon enough, seeing you at your work wasn’t enough. He wanted to know more about you. So he followed you home one day. He kept his distance, being too scared of appearing creepy to people around him. You lived a few blocks away from him, who knew!This made it very easy for Shigaraki to stake out across the street and just watch you for hours. You always kept your windows open, maybe for the natural light? He appreciated it though; in his eyes, you left your blinds open for him. So he could watch as you dance around your room with your dog, and then relax and watch tv, hugging a pillow as you accidentally fall asleep. You were precious, and he realized all you wanted, all you needed, was someone like him to cuddle up into, to make sure you were safe. After all, there were too many creeps who could hurt you- he was just making sure they didn't get to you.

Shigaraki made it back to his place, but you never left his head. He went from sitting in the bushes, to sitting hunched over his desk, looking up your name on every search engine imaginable. “Bingo!” he says once he finds your socials. He scrolls down your page, seeing your stories about going to conventions earlier in the summer, spending time with your friends and- oh? What’s this? You were hugging a boy in this picture. Shigaraki zoomed in to get a good look at his face. “Why would you want a bastard like him?” he grunted angrily. He clicked on his profile and saw a post of you two eating at “your favorite restaurant” together for his birthday. The post was from the beginning of this year, so maybe you weren’t still with the guy. I mean Shigaraki didn’t see anyone while he was stalking you, which was a good sign.

Over time, his camera roll would fill up with screenshots of you off of your profile, shaky pictures he snapped of you while you were working, etc. He was in the store just when you worked now, because any other time he was following paces behind you to wherever your pretty feet were taking you. Stepping up to the counter with a few games, you began checking him out. His voice low and quiet as he asked, “Do you play games often?”

“Oh sure! Whenever I have free time, really. But lately I’ve been too busy. We should totally play together sometime!” you beam. Play together? He wanted to do a lot more than that .

“C-Cool, then I’ll see you through a screen next time,” Shigaraki scratches his neck awkwardly. You give him that practiced smile you show to all the customers. “Oh, what time do you get out?” he asks, and you give him a confused look. “S-so I know when to hop on! Just in case..” he drifts off, trying to keep cool. You tell him around 8, and he leaves. That’s perfect. Gives him just enough time to run some errands.

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

Shigaraki went to the hardware store and got the smallest cameras he would find. He hurried over to your place, and prayed the key was still under the rug where you left it. And it was! He unlocked your door, and your small dog ran up to him, jumping on his leg. “You’re a friendly little guy, aren’t you?” he says, leaning down to pet the dog. Don’t get distracted ! He reminded himself. He began by setting a few cameras up in your room, one facing each corner. This gave him a perfect view of your bed, desk, and closet. While he was in there, he picked up a piece of thin red fabric off the ground. He inhaled deeply, to smell a sweet and salty scent. He shoved them into his pockets for later, and finished placing the cameras.

Back out in the living room, your dog was following him around. Shigaraki knelt down and gave him a pat. He read the dog's collar; apparently his name was Shiro. Cute. “You want something, Shiro? You need some food?” he asked, looking around for his dog dish. He found it and filled it up and then sat on the couch. He took your panties out of his pocket, giving them another whiff. The smell shot straight down to his groin, heating him up. He pulled his phone out and went to his album just for you and scrolled through the pictures. He loved you so dearly, and one day you would know just how much he cherished you. He played back the small interactions the two of you had, and all the memories you’d have together in the future. He palmed his hardening cock, head leaning back on the couch.

It was 6:30, he still had a few more hours before you were back. He revealed his dick from his sweatpants, his tip leaking pre. He put your red panties in his hand, and started to jerk himself off- the soft lace brushing against the underside of his dick. His breathing became hitched and sporadic at the thought of you underneath him making the same noises. No, he wasn’t experienced, but you would teach him everything he needed to know!

“Y/N… god you’re so tight..” he groaned. His hips thrusting up into you as you let out lewd noises for him. He grabbed your face and whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

“God please- fuck, I’m close, Shiggy!” you whined under him, twitching with your back arched and a tit in his mouth. The thoughts that filled his mind went directly to his cock. Shigaraki humped his hand, wishing it could be you, waiting for when it was you. Maybe you’d even fuck on this couch, who knows. He quickly finished and made sure to leave nothing behind before heading out and staking out behind the bushes again.

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

You throw yourself on the couch as always, sitting where he sat just an hour ago. You made yourself some tea as you turned the tv on. It wasn’t too late, meaning Shigaraki could watch you for a bit.

A little later, you make yourself dinner. You take the trash out and leave it by the road. Shigaraki, being the weirdo he is, makes his way across the street, dangerously close to your front window, to snoop through your trash. There had to be something good in there. . He rummaged through your trash to find empty take out containers, some paper, and- chapstick? He wasn’t big on using it himself, but if it was yours, it was automatically going on his lips. He thought of it like an indirect kiss from his one and only. It had a taste of sweet strawberries, probably what you would taste like if he ever had the chance to kiss you. One day, he keeps telling himself. He pulls out his phone to check your room cameras and he sees you starting up your pc. Right! You asked to game with him earlier! Shigaraki raced back home to load his game, praying he would find you in one of the local servers. There was FlameThrower2050 , TheRadicalDude , SuckItRight , and Shiro’sCloud online. You had to be the last one. He shot you a direct message, asking if you were up for a game, and you said yes. You actually said yes! Of course, you didn’t know it was him. You went into a private lobby and you turned on your headset. “Hey, can you hear me?” you asked innocently. Your pure voice went right through his heart. “Uh yeah, you sound great,” he blurts out. “Oh, Shigaraki?” you remembered his name?! This left him ecstatic. The game starts and you play a few rounds, Shigaraki being in heaven. You ended up beating him. In every. Single. Round. A bit embarrassing for him, but you laughed it off and didn’t make fun of him for it. Oddly, that stuck with him. You were so nice the whole time- he couldn’t wait to talk to you at work tomorrow!

It was getting late, which is why you had to go, which also meant Shigaraki got to watch you on the cameras. He pulled out his phone, switching to the view of your bed. You crawled in with just panties and an oversized shirt on, how cute. You scrolled on your phone for a little, until it dropped on your chest and you fell asleep. Your phone battery is gunna die, silly… Shigaraki thinks to himself. He could always go over and plug it in for you. No! That was too dangerous!! What if you wake up when he’s standing over you? Certainly that’s not a good impression to leave. He argues with himself for a bit before he’s out of the house, running down the street. His feet carry him all the way back to your place. He grabs the key and goes for the door. It was unlocked. You left it unlocked for him? How nice of you! He sneaks in and Shiro is quick to jump on him. Shiro took quite a liking to him. He tiptoed over to your room, looking at your sleeping body through the door crack. He opened the door slightly, going in and looming over you. He pried the phone from out of your hands and plugged it in for you. You would thank him later; tomorrow! When you’d see him next. Shigaraki zoned out, watching you sleep soundly for a good hour, stealing pictures of you while you were snoring, and getting a quick sniff of your hair. He had stayed there a lot longer than intended, the sun starting to rise. He snuck out of your room and locked the door on his way out.

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

“Oh, hey!” Shigaraki hears your pleasant voice call out to him from the counter. “Last night was a lot of fun; how about we play again tonight?” you ask him. He immediately says yes, his heart doing flips in his chest. This was the start of something good.

#shigaraki #shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki smut #yandere shigaraki #yandere shigaraki x reader #yandere #stalker shigaraki #an unhealthy obsession #no smut #drabble #shigarakithirst

682 notes · View notes

obscure-imagines · 4 years ago

Photo

*Horror genre/smut warning*

-He’d be very tentative to catch feelings for anyone because he’s a very depressed boi

-quiet guy is hard to get to know, especially after an apocalyptic event

-Even if you’re survivors together, he’s just kind of going to be floating around quietly, so if you want to get to know Hyunsu, you’re going to have to make an effort

-Hyunsu is drawn to beautiful things, things that inspire hope (music, kids, etc...) and he can enjoy pleasurable things for a time, but Hyunsu is always terrified that good things will be torn from his grasp, so he never wants to let himself love something too easily

-Boy has his found family, so being accepted by his loved ones would be really important.

-It would be the elder survivors like Han and Gilseob who notice the connection between you and Hyunsu first

-i’m talking hard core pining, long looks, Hyunsu’s eyes finding you any time you enter a room, but you’re both oblivious to each other

-It’s a tough situation because Hyunsu is still treated like a monster at times, and people are obviously scared of his dark side

-Hyunsu can’t even imagine getting close to you, for fear that he’ll hurt you

-his monster alter ego even toys with him by mentioning you sometimes, further increasing the poor boys anxiety

-He’d get growingly agitated any time you have to put yourself in danger, and always ends up going places with you just to make sure you’re protected

-it starts with him just kind of shadowing you when you head up to your apartment for something one day

-the building is pretty much safe, but when you catch Hyunsu out of the corner of your eye, you almost have a heart attack, which he apologizes profusely for

-he goes with you to your room and is kind of awkward at your door because you’re a pretty girl and he’s about to go into your apartment, even if it is a post apocalyptic world, boy has manners

-He’s also just very big and tall, so even though he kind of hunches over, he sticks out like a sore thumb in your apartment

-he’s so quiet, but once you find something you both mutually enjoy to talk about, he begins to loosen up

-he continues shadowing you, he’s pretty much your designated monster survival partner

-at dinners you start to eat together and everyone is low key hoping you both work out, but are also worried about what it could mean for you if Hyunsu turns full monster out of the blue one day

-He’s very hesitant to allow you to touch him, so you’d have to start small

-like maybe you offer to help him clean up some residual blood left on his skin after he’s healed from a fight

-Hyunsu all but holds his breath while you wipe his skin

-big uwu boy, heart eyes to the extreme

-he honestly just needs a good cuddle and one day, after a particularly rough event where you almost die, Hyunsu is too tired to be in full control of himself, so when you crawl into bed with him, wrapping your arms around his frame, Hyunsu allows himself to enjoy it

-the biggest soft boy is the small spoon sometimes cuz he really needs it

-he falls asleep in your arms and it’s the most peaceful sleep he’s had in maybe years

-when he wakes up, he rolls to cuddle against your chest, still half asleep and unaware of what he’s doing until he can hear the beat of your heart under his ear and realizes you’re not just a pleasantly warm pillow

-boy practically jumps out of the bed and needs to be pulled back into your embrace

-if you start massaging his scalp and holding him to your chest- he’s going to die, like, he’ll never be happier

-He craves your cuddles like nothing else in the whole world, and allows himself more and more to be happy when he’s with you, and to be with you often

-seeing him smile is so odd, people are shook

-the first day you grab his hand in front of people makes his heart melt

-the two of you are simply waiting for dinner, and you grab his hand, playing with his fingers casually

-you don’t even notice how impactful the gesture is

-after dinner, Hyunsu finds himself swept away by the key men of the group, Han thinks it’s all very cute, Gilseob agrees with Han but he’s worried like Eunhyeok that Hyunsu could be a danger to you. Sangwook is just there because they dragged him along

-Hyunsu is still worried he could hurt you and you notice him pulling away after his discussion with the guys, which leads to him fully communicating to you all his fears about being a monster and not being good enough for you

-squash all his anxieties with a kiss

-Hyunsu will melt against you, your lips are the best cure for his busy mind

-if you tug a little at his hair boy will be whipped forever

-once he opens up to you, he’ll tell you everything

-time spent cuddling and just talking

-tracing his scars and kissing them, telling him you’ll never leave him

-him being worried about becoming a monster but you’re so determined he won’t- and you won’t let him try to avoid you for your ‘own safety’ so he’s pretty much just stuck with loving you and accepting that you make him happy and he’s allowed to be happy

-helping him cut his hair and being shook by how much younger he looks

- “do you like it?” he wants to make sure you still like his new hair

-he’s so much more boyish- it honestly makes it worse when his hair is short because people have been straight up offering him up to really hard jobs because he ‘cant die’

-like, you’re going to be fiercely protective of this boy, just as he is of you

-yeah he’s the one that ‘cant die’ but if someone tries to be even slightly mean to him, you’re jumping in and throwing fists

-’oh? you guys think it’s a good idea to sacrifice him to the military/government for our survival? time to meet my fists’ you’ll jump in swinging i swear to god

-you would probably be down to fight Eunhyuck on the daily for how he treats Hyunsu like his watch dog/hound

-low key everyone is prepared to wake up and find you and Hyunsu just gone one day

-he looks at you with the biggest heart eyes, like, boy is so in love with you and anyone can see it

-he’s going to cherish any time with you

-nights are for cuddles and memorizing your face in the moonlight that comes through the windows

-will find you cute little gifts, like, if he knows you like certain books or stuff like that he’ll keep an eye out for things to amuse you when he’s looking for supplies

-being way too fucking cute. like. this is an apocalypse and this man is just out here being a full fucking simp for you im-

-be careful as he gets more in love with you though because if someone threatens you, his monster side will pop out

-you’re feeling fragile one day and someone says something rude about Hyunsu and ‘how much time he has left’ and when Hyunsu finds you crying, his eyes go black and his monster side demands you tell him who he has to go kill for you

-after that, you can be certain his monster side won’t ever hurt you, which makes Hyunsu feel a lot more relaxed

-boy finally lets you touch him for longer than like five minutes because he’s not scared of loosing himself when he’s with you anymore

-ok, let’s be real, ya’ll would find ways to fuck even during the apocalypse

-boy deserves it. he DESERVES IT I TELL YOU

-soft honey boy, starts so soft, so much kissing and foreplay

-you’d really have to initiate things going farther than just kissing, and he’d worship you if you undressed for him

-10/10 will tell you he loves you while buried completely inside of you

-lots of gripping and passion, breathless kisses, hand holding and finger squeezing

-let him burry his face in your neck

-the sweetest aftercare filled with cuddles, hugs, kisses, and sweet words of affirmation

-he’s super shy about petnames, but you pet your ass that this big soft boi is going to let ‘jagiya’ (honey/sweetheart) slip every once and again.

-super shy about pda around other people, but you purposefully like to show how much you love him to make everyone else think twice about being mean to him or prejudice because he’s ‘infected’, whatever that even means.

-stealing his massive clothes

-taking care of him in ways that count, like making sure his depression doesn’t get the better of him being able to complete basic tasks, like cleaning him after a fight and making sure he eats properly

-being Hyunsu’s proof that humans can live with monsters, because you’ll never let him go and you love him

-i mean, not even going to lie, 10/10 Hyunsu would make living in monster world worth it

3K notes · View notes

underoos-shield · 3 years ago

Note

tom holland x reader where she's really tired and stressed from uni and comes home and has an anxiety attack and cries so tom comforts her and pampers her until she eventually falls asleep sitting in his lap and her head tucked in the crook of his neck and lots of fluff and forehead kisses

y/n has had quite possibly the worst, most stressful week of her life. homework, projects, exams, presentations… it’s too much for her to handle at one time. she has barely had time to eat the last few days due to her overwhelming amount of assignments. her brain is fried, she’s desperate for a break. she can’t remember the last time she ate a nice meal and actually felt full. or taking time to wash her hair. it seems like the last few weeks have been work, work, work.

“maybe you should take a break, darling”. It’s past eight p.m. when tom comes into the room. he sees y/n hunched over at her desk frantically typing notes and scribbling calculations. he sighs, knowing she hasn’t stopped to eat or to hydrate herself. she groans out of frustration proving that she needs a well-deserved break.

the room is quiet for a while. the only noises that can be heard are her fingers lightly tapping at the keyboard. “darling”. tom walks over to her, now standing next to her. from here he can see the dark circles under her eyes, her uncomfortably hunched back, her dry lips.

she shakes her head, only now acknowledging his presence. “i can’t”, is all she says, not stopping her typing. tom sighs. he hates how stressed she has been lately and he hates even more how useless he feels that he can’t help her. tom’s eyes scan the dozens of sprawled out papers of formulas she has written over the last few hours. he notices how each piece of paper seems to become sloppier, a sign that her hand got tired, fast. y/n proves it by wincing as she rubs the muscle under her thumb. it’s swollen and red and tom frowns as he reaches for her hands.

“you need a break, come”, he says softly. y/n frantically shakes her head, still looking at her computer.

she protests at his requests. “no, i can’t stop. i need to finish”, her voice only comes out as a whisper. she tries to free her hands from his grasp but he tightens his hold. this makes her snap her eyes to him. not out of anger, out of fear. she’s scared she’s not going to finish her assignments on time. she’s scared that if she allows herself to rest she’ll have more work to do tomorrow. “no, no, no”. y/n is begging, pleading now. it hurts tom to see her like this, which is why his hold on her doesn’t let up.

“you need to eat, please”. tom’s voice is soft compared to hers. y/n’s voice is cracking as the anxiety builds up inside of her. she crying. tears are running down her face as she gasps to catch her breath. her hands are shaking and she starts to sweat, telltale signs that her anxiety is getting the best of her. “c’mere”, he says softly. tom softly wraps his arms around her waist as she cries into him. as much as it hurt to cry, it felt good to feel something, she has been on autopilot the past few weeks.

“tom”, she squeaks out between cries. her arms wrap around his shoulders as she’s picked up and brought over to the bed. tom sits with his back against the headboard, her straddling him as she continues to cry.

“my sweet girl”, he coos. tom hates to see his love this way. one hand strokes her hair, while the other softly rubs her back, a motion that brings her comfort. “you’ve been working so hard, my darling. you need to prioritize your rest”. he’s right, she knows he is. she has been letting her work get the best of her, lately. it’s just so much easier said than done. she tries to explain herself to him, but it comes out broken between her whimpering. “it’s okay, love. i’m not mad. i just don’t like seeing you so worked up”. her cries have died down and are only soft gasps as she regains control of herself. “let me take care of you tonight, please?”. his lips softly press against her temple, forehead, eyelids… anywhere he could reach. y/n nods and wipes her eyes softly.

he smiles softly before going to run y/n a bath. tom sits on the edge of the tub and helps wash her hair and scrub the tricky spots she can’t reach. he even helps detangle her hair and puts them into two braids. they weren’t the best looking, but it looked a lot better than what she had done with it recently.

tom gives her a shirt and pair of boxers to sleep in before heating up some leftovers for her to enjoy. she’s quiet as she gratefully chews the meat and potatoes dish. as she eats, tom saves her documents and softly closes her laptop. she had done enough work tonight. her loose papers are neatly stacked on top of the desk and y/n smiles at him sleepily at her caring boyfriend. she doesn’t have enough energy to speak, so she just watches as he picks up the broken pieces of her.

“all done?”, he asks. tom places the empty dish on the bedside table and brings his sleepy girl into his lap. the pair stay in silence for a while, just syncing up their breathing and appreciating each other. tom’s hand rubbing her back makes her eyelids heavy and she’s rests her head into him. tom let’s out a small sigh in relief, happy that he could finally help her. “is my girl feeling better?”, he softly asks. y/n smiles in the crook of his neck and weakly nods.

“thank you tommy”, she says quietly.

#tom holland fanfiction #tom fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland blurb #underoosshield #request #blurb

165 notes · View notes

mousepsychologist · 3 years ago

Text

With Aaron

Summary: Reader avoids Hotch after getting cleared for sex following a kidnapping incident because she is self-conscious about the scars left behind.

Pairing: soft!hotch X Female Reader

Content/warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI): Language, brief mentions of torture (similar to an episode of CM), brief mentions of knives and blood (as a means or result of aforementioned torture), mentions and descriptions of scars, insecurities, sexual content, oral sex: female receiving, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, praise, use of pet names and some fluff.

If I am missing anything please let me know!

Word count: 3,956

A/N: Submission for the @hotchafterhours Smutty One Shot Challenge. Also, this is the first fanfic I have ever written, so if it is super rough to read...my sincerest of apologies, and feel free to pretend this does not exist😅😂

Sex…

Sex with Aaron…

That is all you ever think about. You are absolutely consumed with the idea of being with Aaron.

You love sex with Aaron. You’ve been having sex with Aaron almost everyday for two years now and holy shit...it is the best sex you’ve ever had. It is so good that even when you shouldn’t be thinking about it...you definitely are.

When you innocently watch him twirl a pen between his thumb, pointer and middle fingers while thinking, all you can think about is how those long, thick fingers feel inside of you. Or, when you watch him sip his coffee, all you can think about is how those soft lips feel sucking and nipping at your bare skin.

However, anything he does, innocent or not, it always gets you going. So, you can’t fully blame him. But, you know Aaron, and some days you are sure he intentionally tries to get you squirming...even at work.

Everyone knows he is Mr. Professional and you think just the same but you also know that you are his achilles heel. So, if and when he wants to play games, well...you can be his checkmate.

You will rock a deep v-neck blouse that gives him the perfect view of your cleavage or a tight pencil dress that accentuates your ass because you know it will cause his face to falter or his breathing patterns to become erratic.

The two of you are the King and Queen of the sexual chess board. He knows how to move in ways that make you scream out in pleasure while you know how to sacrifice your pawns so he can seize control of the bedroom.

And as much as you love thinking about sex with Aaron or actually having sex with Aaron, you are able to sometimes keep your sexual thoughts at bay.

However, when you aren’t thinking about sex with Aaron, you are thinking about cuddling with Aaron, watching TV with Aaron, going on dates with Aaron, cooking with Aaron, laughing until you’re crying with Aaron and everything else in-between. Anything and everything that the two of you could possibly do together is always what you’re thinking about.

Your relationship with Aaron has never been just about sex. However, sex with Aaron has always been a sacred thing between the two of you. He treats your body like a temple. Not just any temple though...rather a temple he seems to have built himself.

He knows your body better than you do and how to make you feel like putty.

He knows how to interpret your moans as well as assess your temperament and determine whether you want to have playful or rough sex or, just softer, lazier sex.

And up until now, sex with Aaron has never been something you were nervous or self-conscious about.

---

Everything changed following your kidnapping two months ago where an unsub managed to hold you hostage for a week.

It was the worst week of your life. It was a long week that consisted of beatings, cigarette burns and knives being dragged up and down your body.

***Two Months Ago***

When the team came bursting into the basement you were being held in, you looked like a bruised, bloodied, mangled mess. You are hunched over and tied to a chair with your clothes barely hanging on by a thread. Your body is littered with both long and short knife marks, small and large bruises, and multiple cigarette burns.

As your team stormed the area, you were so disoriented that you didn’t even comprehend what was happening around you.

A large, calloused hand gently touches your shoulder. You flinch and the hand immediately retracts itself.

“Y/N...” he pauses. “Y/N… it’s me. It's Aaron.” His voice is so quiet, calm, and soothing.

You immediately relax. You have never been more relieved in your life. You blink a few times and your vision unblurs to see an unfamiliar Aaron.

He is so panicked and scared. You are sure you’ve never seen him this scared. He is also tired. So so tired. You are positive he hasn’t slept since you’ve gone missing.

He slowly places his hand back on your shoulder once he realizes that you know it's him. You're slightly shaking and exceptionally weak.

“Sweetheart, I need to carry you to the ambulance. Is that okay?”

You nod and go to straighten up but immediately wince and whimper in pain.

“Y/N, no, don’t move. I’ve got you”.

To pick you up he gently places an arm under your knees and another behind your back. It hurts but you find solace in his touch and the faint smell of his cologne. You bury your face deep into his chest and feel your tears surface as you start to sniffle.

Aaron immediately notices and places a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“Y/N, it's okay. I’ve got you.”

You press yourself further into him and grasp firmly at his shirt. Your tears start to come faster. “Please don’t leave me Aar. Please don’t go anywhere. I’m scared and I don’t want to be alone again.”

“Oh Love...it’s okay. You’re not alone. I am not going anywhere. I am right here. You have me. Always. I want you to forget everything and everyone else but me.”

You feel his grip on you tighten as you go unconscious.

That's the last thing you remember until you wake up in the hospital two days later.

---

***Present Day***

It has been 53 days since you have had sex with Aaron. But today is the day you are supposed to receive medical clearance from your doctor.

Up until this morning, all you wanted was to have sex with Aaron. Because of your doctor’s orders, Aaron wouldn’t give in to sex until you were cleared. You were totally okay with following the doctor’s orders but Aaron and you had decided that it was just best to not do anything remotely sexual until you were cleared.

So...for the last 53 days, the most the two of you have done is kissed and cuddled. No question about it, the two of you love to kiss and cuddle but...you also love to do SO...MUCH...MORE.

You understood where Aaron is coming from. He just wants you safe and healthy.

You, on the other hand, want so badly to be fucked by your boyfriend.

So, it’s safe to say that you are so excited to get cleared. You know Aaron is excited too... though he won’t admit it.

You have tried multiple times to get him off but it's never worked. You want to do it for him, but you selfishly need to have his large, veiny, cock deep in your throat. You want to taste him, to make him feel how he always makes you feel. You also miss the way his hips buck towards you causing you to choke on his pulsating dick.

But he never budged. And since he never did, this also meant that the two of you haven't seen each other naked in the last 53 days.

You miss his cock just as much as you miss his mouth sucking on your clit or having his hands pinch your nipples, but by waiting, you know that the first time back to having sex with Aaron will be worth the wait. As Aaron said it quite clearly one day, “Pretty girl, I’m going to make you cum so much that you won’t even be able to think straight. I may have to make you cum for every day you haven’t been able to.” He said this with a smirk and a wink, but you’re pretty sure he is not kidding.

...And damn it, you are so ready for it.

---

You wake up the morning of your appointment, and head to the bathroom to shower and get ready. This is what you’ve been waiting for. You are so excited to finally have sex with Aaron tonight. You take a little longer in the shower to prepare yourself. Using extra exfoliator, moisturizer and your more expensive shampoo and conditioner.

It isn’t until you step out of the shower and catch a glimpse of your naked body that your anxiety flares with a vengeance. Sure, a lot of the cuts and burns have healed and the bruises are long gone but there are still some scars that are still blatantly noticeable. They look so ugly, red and puffy.

The panic sets in at the thought of Aaron seeing you tonight. You feel the pressure of how tonight is supposed to go. You know Aaron loves you no matter what but that doesn’t silence the voices telling you otherwise.

A knock at the door pulls you from your self-deprecating thoughts. “Honey, are you almost ready?”

“Umm, ya. Just a sec.”

You quickly put your clothes on but your eyes never leave the mirror that is reflecting your damaged body. You exit your bathroom and head to the kitchen where Aaron is pouring two cups of coffee.

“Morning gorgeous.” You cringe at the name which you are sure he notices but he doesn’t acknowledge it and continues on. “You sure you don’t want me to come with you to your appointment?”

“No, it's okay. It shouldn’t take too long anyways.”

“Alright, my love. I will see you at work then.”

He walks up to you and kisses you gently. His hands lay on your hips and slowly take the ends of your sweater in them. You begin to feel his hands touch the skin just above your waistline and immediately grab both of them and pull away. He gives you a questioning look but before he can say anything you beat him to it.

“Babe, I really have to go. I don’t want to be late.” You place your hand on his cheek and give him a quick kiss on the lips. “I love you and I’ll see you later.”

You turn and walk out missing the clearly puzzled look on Aaron’s face.

---

You arrive at work a few hours later cleared to have sex again. And though you want to be excited, you aren't. You are so in your head that you don’t know what to do.

You know you can’t avoid Aaron so you walk into his office to tell him the “good” news.

Aaron hears you walk in and close the door. He quickly walks to you and kisses you before asking about the appointment. You inform him that you’re cleared and you panic more as you see the excitement spread across his face.

He cups one hand on your cheek while the other lays on your hip. He slowly starts to kiss you again. You love the taste of him. You can taste the coffee from this morning as his tongue makes its way into my mouth. Your hands go to his neck and begin tugging at his hair.

Aaron loves when you tug at his hair so you are not surprised when it elicits a few moans from him. And anytime a moan leaves those beautiful lips of his, it always runs straight to your core. You can feel your panties dampen as he sucks on your bottom lip and squeezes your hips.

You are so lost in this kiss and it’s the first time all day that you aren’t drowning in your thoughts.

You are in the moment and it's amazing.

The hand cupping your cheek moves to mimic his other hand squeezing your hip. You don’t even feel his thumbs rubbing the skin above your waistline and dipping under the top portion of your thong. You are so focused on rubbing your hands along his ribcage and chest. You love feeling his chest and tummy.

Aaron starts kissing down your jawline causing you to tilt your head back in pleasure. You can feel his soft lips dance their way down your neck. It's the stark contrast of his rough, calloused fingertips sliding up both sides of your ribcage that snaps you back to reality.

You quickly step away and readjust your blouse.

“Woah Y/N.” He gently grabs your wrists. “What is going on? What's wrong?” He asks with pleading puppy dog eyes.

“Nothing is wrong Aar. It’s just that we're at work with people around.”

“Okay, but that hasn’t stopped us in the past.” A slight smirk appears on his face.

“I know, but I would rather wait until we are home. Why don’t you come over to my place after work?” Hopefully being in the comfort of your own apartment will calm your nerves.

“I’d love to. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.” He moves both hands to your cheeks and places a delicate kiss on your forehead.

“Sounds good. I just have a few more reports to finish before I head out.” You say as you head towards his office door.

“Alright, sweetheart. I’m looking forward to it!”

You can see the excitement on his face and hear the sweetness in his voice as you exit his office. The nerves fluttering in your stomach almost make you nauseous but you have to ignore your thoughts so you can focus on the remainder of the work day.

---

You are home for 30 minutes when Aaron finally enters your apartment. You're sitting on the bed, leaning up against the headboard with your knees tucked to your chest when you see Aaron’s broad shoulders lean against your door frame. You know you can’t keep up the facade any longer.

“Alright, Y/N. What's wrong? Something is clearly off with you. You’ve been distant all day today. If I did something wrong, please just tell me so I can fix it.”

The sincerity in his voice is almost too hard to handle. You can feel your eyes start to fill with tears but you don’t cry. You tilt your head down and stare at your fidgeting hands.

“It’s so bad, Aar.” As soon as those words left your mouth you knew that was the worst possible way to phrase the sentence.

Aaron immediately walks to the bed and sits cross-legged in front of you. The panic is evident in his eyes.

He grabs your wrists to move your arms up and begins touching along your stomach. His eyes are moving all over your body like a ball in a pinball machine.

He’s searching for an injury.

“What hurts Y/N? Let me see, please! I want to help fix it.” He’s so scared. You immediately feel guilty about how fast your words send him into panic mode but it's this caring nature that reassures you that Aaron loves you no matter what.

It's what finally gives you the strength to tell him how you feel.

“Nothing hurts, babe. I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to phrase it that way.” His face slowly begins to soften.

“Then what is it? I know something is wrong.”

“My scars, Aar. They are so bad. They are way redder and puffier than I thought they’d be at this point.” Your eyes are focused on your bedspread. Quite obviously avoiding the gorgeous ones you can feel piercing into you. “My entire torso is hideous...I just don’t want you to see it.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” His hands come up to cup both of your cheeks.

You cut him off before he can continue. You need to tell him the whole truth.

“I know it’s dumb but I have this fucking voice in my head telling me that you are going to be bothered by them and less attracted to me. Which I wouldn’t blame you because I am already thinking the same thing about myself.”

“Please, Y/N. Please don’t ever think that I would ever find you unattractive for any reason. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I love everything there is about you and nothing could ever change that.” He says this reassuringly while placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

You can feel your anxiety slowly dissipate. “I know you do. I have just been so nervous thinking about you seeing them for the first time tonight. Plus, we’ve been talking about having sex so much once I got cleared and I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“Y/N.” He says with such conviction that you force yourself to look into his eyes. “I need you to know that we do not need to have sex tonight, tomorrow night or anytime soon.” His hands are now gently rubbing up and down your arms from your shoulders to elbows. “We will go at whatever pace you’re comfortable with. And that will always be the case.” He pauses and lightly squeezes your arms. “Whether following an injury or not, okay.”

“I know, Aar. And you don’t know how appreciative I am of that and how happy I am to have someone as caring and supportive as you in my life.” You gently grab his face and place a tender kiss on his lips.

The love you feel for Aaron is all consuming. He has managed in a matter of minutes to dilute your anxiety to almost nothing. Now, all you feel is this intense rush of passion for the love of your life.

The kiss starts to develop into something much more needy. You both are fighting for dominance but you quickly relent and let his tongue invade your mouth. His large hands make their way to your hair where they lightly tug and pull.

Your hands are now on his shoulders pulling him on top of you while simultaneously working to unbutton his dress shirt.

You feel him hesitate and look down at you. “Y/N, are you sure?”. His eyes have never looked so intently at you.

“Yes, I am sure.”

That’s enough for him to abruptly continue kissing you. Your eyes are now closed as you lose yourself once again in an unforgettable kiss with Aaron Hotchner.

You are obsessed with how he tastes and you continue to feel yourself relax as you breathe in his pine scented cologne. The smell has and always will make you feel at home.

Aaron slowly removes your top and stops all of his movements which leads you to opening your own eyes.

You see him staring at your stomach which brings all of your insecurities to the forefront.

You feel yourself moving to cover your stomach when Aaron catches them and pushes each to the side.

“You are so beautiful Y/N. I can’t believe I get to have someone as beautiful, kind, intelligent, and courageous as you in my life. So please don’t ever try to hide yourself from me.”

The genuineness exuding from him is enough to melt all your anxieties. You know that you want him no matter what.

“Thank you, Aar. I love you so much and I don’t know what I did to deserve a man like you.”

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

His soft lips return to you. He slowly makes his way nipping and sucking at the skin from your neck to your breast. He begins to suck on your nipple while massaging the other with his large hand. His teeth graze over your nipple causing a ripple effect down your spine.

You love feeling his warm breath and wet tongue move across your already hard bud. Aaron tends to your other breast with his mouth before moving down your torso.

He begins to gently kiss each of your scars. You feel your stomach nervously tighten.

Aaron, as always, senses how your body briefly tenses.

“It’s okay, Love. I am right here with you. I want you to forget everything and everyone else but me.”

You feel your body relax. “I am okay, I promise. Please Aaron.” You beg with a quiet whimper. “I need you.”

His lips continue moving down to where you need him most as he removes your pants and thong. No matter your insecurities, you always seem to be needy for all things Aaron. So it's no surprise that you are already wet from only being kissed by him.

Aaron’s tongue moves further down so he can tease your clit. The action causes you to squirm beneath him. As much as you love his mouth on you and feeling him lick and suck on your clit, you need more.

“Aar, please…” you moan and arch your back off the bed.

“What do you want Y/N? Tell me and I will make it happen.” He responds while inserting two fingers into you.

He is curling his finger inside of you while continuing to suck on your clit. Your breathing has increased significantly along with your moans.

“Aaron…please. Please I need you inside of me.”

In an instant he grabs your legs and pulls you towards him. Once your legs are wrapped tightly around his waist, he pulls his already hard cock out of his boxers and begins to line it up with your core. He teases your entrance with his tip before he finally thrusts into you.

He fills you so well as he thrusts in and out. You can feel yourself climb towards your release with every thrust.

“Fuck, Y/N. You feel so good.” His pace quickens and becomes a little harder but he holds you like you are the most precious thing to walk the earth.

“I’m so close, Aar.”

“I know, baby. Let go, I’ve got you.”

That’s all you need to fall apart. Your body tenses before spasming uncontrollably. Your back is arched as Aaron continues to thrust into you to help ride out your high. It doesn’t take much longer for him to find his release as well.

You both try to ride out your highs as long as possible. The two of you are breathing heavily and a slight layer of sweat is now covering your bodies.

You gently begin dragging your nails up and down Aaron’s back as he is still laying on top of you. While still trying to come back to earth, he pulls out of you and rolls over to your side.

You miss the feeling of having him inside of you when he rolls over but the emptiness is quickly replaced as his arm is draped across your waist and is used to pull you to him. You are now laying more on him than the bed with your head nestled on his chest.

Aaron presses gentle kisses to the top of your head. “You okay, Y/N?”

“I’m perfect.” You are so at peace laying on his chest listening to his steady heartbeat.

Aaron is rolling the ends of your hair between his fingers as you continue to cuddle into him. “Okay, good. Are you sure that wasn’t too much this time?”

“It was perfect. I promise I would tell you if I wasn’t okay.”

“Alright, I just want you to be happy and comfortable no matter what.”

“I know, Love and I love you so much for that. You always make me feel amazing, especially when it comes to sex.” You giggle as you sit up to place a gentle kiss on his nose.

“Well, I am glad you enjoy it because I owe you 52 more when you're ready.” A devilish smirk is now plastered on his face.

“52 what?” Your puzzled look causes him to laugh.

“Orgasms, pretty girl.”

“52 orgasms!” Your eyes damn near pop out of your skull.

“Oh yes, 52...and not one less.”

And in this moment, well...all you can think about is 52 perfect orgasms with Aaron.

#hotchafterhourschallenge #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

217 notes · View notes

genshin-no-simp · 4 years ago

Text

Scenario: When They Say/Do Something They Don't Mean

All the stories I post here are from my Wattpad account: https://www.wattpad.com/user/Genshin_no_Simp

This contains the following characters: Kaeya, Diluc, Zhongli and Xiao.

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

💙💙Kaeya💙💙

It had been a very stressful week for Kaeya. He was grumpy and agitated. It was only a matter of time before he snapped at you.

"Babe, you really need to take a break." You frowned quite upset that your lover was still frantically writing at his desk.

You had even trying to convince him to take a break, even if it was for fives minutes, just to get him to look at anything put the seemingly endless pile of paperwork. That's when he slammed his hands against the table while standing up as he glared at you.

"Dammit (Y/N). I don't have time for your shit right now. I have need to get this done, so leave me alone and. Go. Home." He sat back down and continued to write.

You're eyes welled with tears as you silently left his office in fear of angering him further.

Kaeya sat as his desk and only when you were gone did he realized what he had done, that was the first time he had ever raised his voice to you. He just had so much to do, and everyone kept giving him more work to do, but it wasn't fair to take it out on you.

Despite all the work stacked on his desk, you were more important than anything written on these sheets. So he made his way out of the Favonius HQ and down to Flora, luckily enough he had gotten to her just before she closed for the night.

Kaeya knocked gently on the bedroom, as warning before opening the door. The sight broke him. You were laying face first on the bed crying. With long strides, he was at your side in an instant. Placing the flowers on the bed side table he sat next you. You were aware of his presence so the hand that touch you didn't catch you off guard.

"Baby, I'm sorry," his chest was tight. You could hear how sorry he was.

"Baby come here, please," he gently held your arm but he made no move to pull you up though, he wanted to make sure you wanted to. Which you did, so you sat up and rubbed your eyes.

Kaeya instantly pulled you close to his chest.

"I'm sorry baby, I shouldn't have taken it out on you." He kissed you hair over and over again.

"It's okay Kaeya," you hugged him back. And it really was, you realized you shouldn't have pestered him so much to take a break, you knew how busy he was so you should've left him but you didn't want him to over work himself.

"It's not." He shook his head.

"It is." You looked up at him.

"It's not." He met your gaze.

"It is." You put your finger to his lips to prevent him from replying, "I'm only upset because I wasn't expecting you to raise your voice at me, you didn't hurt my feelings."

Kaeya's eye flickered with uncertainty. But you only smiled at him and kissed him. Feeling your lips against his made him melt. His tense muscles relaxing as he kissed you back. Pulling back you smiled again.

"I love you."

"I love you too, baby." Kaeya smiled pulling you down with him onto the bed, where he spent the rest of his time showering you in endless kisses.

❤️❤️Diluc❤️❤️

It's not everyday the Diluc Ragnvindr falls in love and has a cute girl all to himself. So when finally has you he didn't realize just how jealous he could get.

"Diluc," you called to him hesitantly. He was in a mood, you knew. But you didn't know why, "sweetheart what's the matter?" Your concern for him only seemed to agitate him more.

He turned to you rather sharply, slamming his hand onto the wall behind you. Startled, your body went stiff as you looked up at him all wide eyed, like a deer caught in headlights.

"What's the matter?" He repeated almost mockingly, you felt your heart twinge, "you, you think just because you're pretty you can play with people's feelings?"

Your mouth opened to say something but no words came out, you were still trying to process what Diluc meant.

"Why so silent? Do I not make you happy enough? You have to go seek out someone else?" Slowly but surely Diluc's harsh facade was wearing off, and slowly you were putting the pieces together.

"You saw me with my brother earlier didn't you?" You emphasized the word brother.

"Your-" Diluc stared at you and he continued to stare at you. You stared back, never once faltering.

Slowly he backed away from you, casting his gaze to the floor. He had just indirectly accused you of being with someone else. And he had frightened you. He felt awful. He was ashamed of himself.

"Luc," he reached out for him, but he was so disappointed in himself he recoiled from you. He didn't deserve to be touched by you.

You rolled your eyes, you knew he was regretting his actions and honestly you found it kinda cute.

"Luc," you said again, this time cupping both his cheeks giving him little choice but to look at you. Where you could see the regret spilling from his eyes, "it was an honest mistake."

Diluc grabbed both hand wrists holding them closer to him, "it doesn't excuse my behaviour." He was really beating himself up over it.

You sighed deeply with a smile, "if you wanna make it up to me, I have one request."

Diluc's eyes lit up and he nodded quickly, "anything, anything at all and its yours," you couldn't help but giggle at his eager response.

"I want a kiss." You smiled up at him again. He stared at you, dumbfounded. He wasn't expecting something so...simple. But at the same time, you rarely asked him for things, it was usually him who spoiled you without asking you what you wanted, not that you minded of course.

"That's...it?" He couldn't help but ask.

You gave a small hum and closed your eyes while puckering your lips for your kiss. Diluc couldn't help but chuckle.

"Less laughing, more kissing," you cooed while making kissing noises to emphasize what you wanted.

Diluc shook his head, pulling your hands away from his face, he put them to your side before cupping the back of your neck with one hand and pulling you close to his body by your waist with the other. Leaning down he closed the gap, pressing his lips against yours, in a short, sweet kiss. Your body melded against his as your arms wrapped around him, instinctively kissing back once feeling his lips upon yours.

Diluc pulled back just enough to peer lovingly into your face, the look of adoration on his face was enough to make you forget about the world. Content you leaned up rubbing your nose against his and whispering softly.

"I love you Diluc."

"And I love you, my angel." His arms wrapped securely around your waist held you tight as he pressed you back against the wall, gentler this time. He gave you no room for escape as he pressed searing hot kisses against your neck.

💛💛Zhongli 💛💛

It had been a long time since Zhongli has had a partner. Especially one as beautiful, well put together and feisty as yourself. You were everything to him, there was nothing he cherished more than you, so when he saw how your family had treated you, degraded you and belittled you, he was furious. With them for having the audacity to treat you that way, and at you for not standing up for yourself like you usually did.

Zhongli had pinned you between his arms right up against the wall. His piercing gold eyes also held a helping hand at keeping you in place. You had never seen him like this before, so bent out of shape.

"Why did you just sit there and let them talk to you like that?" His deep voice, even deeper as it was laced heavily with annoyance. It genuinely made you flinch, he has never used this tone of voice with you. You didn't even know he was capable of it, you always found his voice to be so soothing. Many times you had even fallen asleep while he was recounting old tales because of how comforting it was. But this was not one of those times.

"W-what do you mean?" You stuttered like a fool. You were unsure of where this unexpected rage had come from. This only made him furrow his brows deeper, a low growl emanating from his throat. You did you best to hold back the whimper that threatened to slip out.

"Your parents," he was having a hard time trying to control himself but he managed to restrain himself, "why did you let them talk to you like that?" Till now Zhongli had been slightly hunched over as he stared down at you but now he stood up straight, his tall frame dwarfed yours.

That's when it all made sense, he wasn't pissed at you because you had done something wrong but at the fact that you didn't stand up for yourself. Suddenly he seemed a lot less frightening that he initially did but he was still a bit intimidating, especially when you had to crane your neck up just to stare up at him.

"Because I'm used to it," your voice came out a lot meeker than usual, and you dropped your gaze to the ground, "it wouldn't matter if I did stand up for myself anyway," you continued, "they would just laugh in my face. It's always been easier to just keep quiet and take it..."

You had never told this to him before, this news was new to him, it made sense why you refused to take shit from other people and why you kept quiet against your parents. Zhongli's eyes softened and he removed his hands from the wall and onto your shoulders. Before you could stop yourself you jumped at his touch. Zhongli's eyes flickered with horror and swiftly removed his hands from you.

Were you scared of him?

Zhongli swore to himself, he showed an ugly side of himself, and he had frightened you so bad that you were afraid he was going to hurt you.

You could see the hurt in his eyes, not because of you, you knew, but at himself. Zhongli didn't know how to handle the situation now presented to him. So you stepped up and made the first move to recovery. You jumped wrapping your arms loosely around his neck, your small frame threatening to slip from him, Zhongli instantly held you up and close to his body.

"I wasn't scared," you stated firmly, "I was caught off gaurd. So don't go beating yourself up okay? I could never be scared of someone as sweet as you, after all you were only like that because you were worried about me, right?" You gave a small tilt of your head with a smile.

"I-" his words were caught in his throat, why were you being so understanding, you should be angry at him or crying or running away from him, telling him to go away, yet instead, you clung to him for dear life, or perhaps that was him, holding you so close, afraid you would run away from him if he let go.

Zhongli buried his face into your shoulder, "I'm sorry, my love. I didn't mean to get so upset. Just when I saw them treating you like that, it made me so angry. You are a hard working, passionate woman," he was looking at you now, "so thoughtful and understanding, so full of life and love, and you deserve nothing but praise and respect," Zhongli had set you on your feet, taking ahold of your hand he brought it to his lips, giving a chaste kiss to your knuckles, between that notion and the praise he was dishing out your face was dusted a rosy pink, "you deserve all the love in the world."

But you already had all the love you could ever want especially with the way he looked at you. You never knew someone could hold so much love in their eyes until this moment, as you gazed into Zhongli's gold orbs, you only hoped that you conveyed the same amount of passion for him in your own eyes.

"I don't need the world's love as long as you by my side because you are my world." It was cheesy yes, but you meant every word. Zhongli gave the biggest smile yet as he swooped you into his strong arms, and pressing his lips against yours. Cupping his cheek you returned his kiss.

You continued to kiss for what felt like eternity all the while whispering soft "I love yous" against each others lips.

💚💚Xiao💚💚

All of this was new to him. These feelings of adoration and affection for someone. The want and need to be near someone. Having someone to call his own, to have someone be there for him when he came home and vice versa. He's never had anybody like you before in his life, someone he cared so deeply for he was afraid of dying and leaving you alone. So when you came back to the inn, hurt, it set off an uncontrollable rage or was it worry? Honestly he had no idea what he was feeling but he certainly wasn't happy.

He slammed his fist against the wall so hard it cracked, a few specs of rubble falling to the ground. It surprised you causing you to jump holding a hand to your chest.

"Xiao what's the matter?" You were sure he was going to be happy to see you but maybe you've out stayed your welcome.

"Why didn't you call for me?" He growled deeply removing his fist from the wall and walking over to you.

You flinched slightly walking backwards until you were against the wall. Even though the Adeptus was quite small in height you still had to look up at him. And even if he was small it didn't excuse the fact that he was still quite terrifying. You were afraid to speak in fear and angering him further.

"Well?" He asked again, this time glaring down at you. He was going to force you to answer him.

"B-because I didn't need to," it was true, you were perfectly fine on your own, sure you got a little hurt but it was nothing to cry over, and it certainly wasn't worth all the fuss he was creating. But you just couldn't bring yourself to say anything.

"You got hurt (Y/N)! You should have called for me." His heart was racing and his fists shook. You were starting to get really upset with him now.

"I'm not weak Xiao!" Your voice slightly raised in agitation. Xiao's eyes flickered darkly for a moment.

"No, you are weak!" He hadn't meant it in a literal sense but due to lack of context you took it the wrong way, any form of fight you had in you diminished as your eyes teared up.

Xiao was caught off guard, seeing you begin to cry made his chest hurt. And it was his fault which made him feel even worse. He wasn't used to all this but he figured he better start leaning...and quick, if he wanted to prevent you from leaving him.

You turned to leave but he caught your hand.

"Let go of me," you tried to wrench yourself free.

"No, listen to me," regret was evident in his voice, but you only shook your head.

"So you can call me weak again?" You sniffled.

Xiao's voice caught in his throat, he wanted to explain to you, but he was afraid of saying something wrong again. But now was the time to try.

"(Y/N)," his voice was a lot softer compared to before, "I didn't mean you're weak in a sense that you can't look after yourself, I meant that you are a human, and your body is fragile," his grip on your hand loosened, "a simple cold is enough to kill you, never mind being attacked and sustaining injuries...I guess what I'm trying to say is, that I'm worried about you." He wasn't looking at you when you turned at him.

You could see his ears have turned red, it must've taken a lot for him to admit that. Hearing his explanation made you feel at ease, his previous temperament like a distant memory.

"You know Xiao, you could've just said so," you teased slipping your hand into his, intertwining your fingers.

Xiao looked up at you, surprised by the sudden touch but he didn't recoil from you, instead it drew him closer. So close you could feel his breath against your lips. Now it was your turn to blush. You stared at each other for some time before his gaze dropped to your lips for only a brief moment before looking into your eyes again. You smiled gently at his implication.

"If you want to kiss me, just do it," you whispered softly before placing your lips against his in a soft meaningful kiss.

It was your first kiss with the Adeptus and it was everything you could have ever wanted and Xiao felt the same. When you pulled away you smiled with a blush but it didn't last long before Xiao's lips were against yours again, a bit harder this time, you let out a soft hum. He continued to kiss you leaving you breathless.

"X-Xiao?" You panted softly.

"You said if I wanted to kiss you, I should just do it, so I am." This was all he said before he was upon you again. Giving you endless kisses.

#genshin x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #zhongli x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact #diluc ragnvindr #kaeya alberich #zhongli #xiao #x reader #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios

853 notes · View notes

gale-gentlepenguin · 4 years ago

Text

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 35

(Master post)

(Insert excuse on why it took so long) (Insert comedic joke on why I didn't update sooner) (plea of trying better) (Heartfelt compliment on why all of you are awesome and patient)

Okay so now that we got that out of the way. But in all seriousness. Thanks for your patience and I hope you enjoy.

If you do enjoy the fic, please Comment and reblog. Reblogs are like Gold on Tumblr and being a writer and posting to Tumblr is difficult. So every little bit helps.

Alright so now lets get to it.

_____________________________________________________________

The nurse heard the commotion going on in the halls. She knew that shortly after Chloé left, things outside the office became… restless. She turned off all the lights and locked the door to the nurse’s office. She did her best to stay quiet and not draw attention to the room. She knew those akuma were out there and she needed to focus on stabilizing her patient.

“I hope that Chloé managed to get that message out.” The nurse whispered to herself.

The woman felt weird pinning her hopes of escaping this place on a spoiled teenager, but at this point, beggars can’t be choosers.

She heard someone approach the door. The nurse felt her blood turn to ice. She refused to move a single inch. She hoped and prayed that the person would go away. She could hear the screams of students outside. She knew the akuma, whoever they were, were out there, and they were taking anyone they could find. Right now, all she could do was pray they don’t check.

“Please… for all that is good… let them leave.” She prayed under her breath.

After what felt like an eternity, she heard the sound of footsteps away from the door and everything returned to eerie silence.

She felt her essence sigh in relief.

She got up from the ground and went to go attend to the unconscious woman in the cot.

“Its strange for someone so young to be so exhausted… but then again, when I get into the line of work I am hoping for, it is likely I will be seeing a lot of cases like this.” Angela joked, trying to keep herself in good spirits. “Society is such a mess.”

Angela checked Nathalie’s pulse. It was present, but it felt off. It was weaker than she was expecting from someone of her age. Perhaps she has a much more serious medical condition. Angela would probably recommend that this woman see a professional when this is all said and done. Though for now, she was stable and calm, which was a very good sign.

The nurse considered that maybe she wasn’t getting an accurate reading, was something off with the assistant’s breathing? She would need to check. The nurse grabbed a stethoscope and moved closer, getting ready to check again.

“Ow!” She yelped as she felt something grab her arm. Nathalie had awaken and she had a firm grip on the woman's wrist.

“What are you doing!?” The surprised assistant exclaimed

“You're awake!? Oh, thank goodness.”

“Awake?”

“Yes, you passed out at a most stressful time. Right now, I recommend we keep our voices down.” The nurse hushed.

‘S***’

Nathalie mentally cursed to herself. She knew it had to be Masquerade. Her little episode resulted in her being far too late to get in and out without issue. She was planning on getting Adrien out of here before things went south.

She got up from the cot she had been laying in.

“Hold on a second.” Angela called out. “You need to stay and rest. I am glad you are conscious. But that sudden fainting spell could be indicative of…”

Nathalie did not have time for this. She gave an ice-cold glare at the nurse.

“If you intend on making me stay here, you will need to do so by force!”

The nurse felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. This woman’s eyes clearly showed intent on fighting. Angela was not a fighter, she helped people, not hurt them.

“You are my patient, and there is a lot of danger outside. You are in no condition to go out there.”

Nathalie had to respect the woman’s guts for standing up to her, despite the nurse’s knees shaking as she maintained eye contact.

“Okay, so how will we deal with the akuma breaking in then.”

“What!”

Angela turned her back to Nathalie, who took full advantage, giving the school nurse a fierce chop to the neck. Causing the nurse to drop like a sack of potatoes.

“Rest up.”

Nathalie put the nurse in the cot that she had previously been resting in.

“Seems I don’t have time to be subtle. Duusu.”

The blue Kwami popped out.

“Nathalie! Do you want to play?”

“Yes Duusu, the game is find Adrien and get out of here.”

“Horray!”

“Duusu! Spread my feathers!”

_____________________________________________________________

“Get down!” Ladybug dived into Chat noir, helping them both avoid the pause symbols and deadly bubbles headed their way. The akuma on both sides of them managed to avoid the incoming attacks they had sent towards the heroes.

“Thanks LB.” Chat noir thanked. “While you are the second person I want to be dancing with. We can't keep dodging forever. Even if their moves are predictable. Maybe those masks are the key to stopping them."

“Hardly a dance, its ettiquette for the boy to lead if it is. And I don't think so. Those masks appear to be unbreakable and impossible to remove” Ladybug said as she pulled her partner quickly back up, both noticing the akuma were ready for more.

“We still haven’t tried cataclysm.” Chat noir comments as he runs and jumps over a trashcan to avoid getting nailed by Bubbler’s attack bubbles.

“Right, but that would leave you exposed. Call it a hunch, but we will need to save it for later.” Ladybug responds as she jumps away and opens a door to block several pause symbols. "Besides, do you want to be mask-less at this Akuma calamity?"

“I was going to say it was more like a Masquerade ball. And no I would not."

Ladybug rolled her eyes at the lame joke, but still had a bit of a smile. Lightening the mood.

"Silly kitty"

"But seriously, we need a plan. If we can’t free them, what can we do?”

Ladybug focused for a moment. She noticed the way they were attacking, it was predictable and slow. Normally the akuma change up their attacks, or at least seem more aware of what the heroes are doing. The akuma were acting a lot more like controlled puppets. Much like when she had to deal with Puppeteer. Seems this akuma had some drawbacks that could be exploited. This was where Ladybug realized there was a way to deal with them.

“We disarm them. Break Bubbler’s wand and I will terminate Lady Wifi’s phone plan. Their reflexes are way more sluggish than usual. My bet is that having so many servants is starting to have a drain on the effectiveness of her forces. We just need to act quick.”

“Alright, sounds good to me.”

“On my mark we charge.”

Ladybug kept an eye on both akuma, after they sent a flurry of attack, they would usually have to take a moment to recharge. Bubbler would need to dip his wand back into his bubble pack and Lady wifi would have her hand cramp after sending 10 swipe symbols and would need to pull her hand back.

“Now!”

Chat noir and Ladybug both pounced at the two akuma, moving fast enough that their foes couldn’t retaliate as the heroes swiped the weapons from their respective wielders.

“Sorry to burst your bubble.” Chat noir joked as he snapped the bubble wand.

“And you’ve reached your data limit for the month.” Ladybug chimed in as she crushed Lady Wifi’s phone.

Both akuma began swinging their fists at the heroes, trying to turn the fight into a bare-knuckle brawl. But Ladybug’s assessment was correct, their attacks were too predictable. Ladybug caught Lady Wifi’s fist and flipped her over her shoulder to the ground.

Chat noir ducked under bubbler’s punch and slipped behind him. The cat used his staff to swipe at the feet of the forward moving akuma and knocked him mask first onto the floor.

“Alright, their disarmed. Now what?”

“Move him over here.”

Chat noir picks up the akuma by his bubble pack and throws him over to ladybug like a curling stone.Ladybug uses her yo-yo to tie the two dazed akuma back to back.

“Let’s put them somewhere where they won’t cause any trouble.”

_____________________________________________________________

“Next!” Masquerade called out in annoyance.

She had gotten her akuma servants to capture as many teachers and students as possible. She had the element of surprise and with the amount of akuma she had at her disposal, it was easy to capture several. Though she figured none would escape and cause panic, Timebreaker was guarding the parameter and kept her informed of any people she ‘Tagged’. Horrificator finished sealing all of the exits so no one would be able to come in or out.

She figured there was a good chance for adding more akuma to her rank. The problem was, most of the akuma sucked. She ended up developing a system for them. If they turned out to have no useful ability, she would humiliate them, have reflekta turn her into replicas of herself and then have Princess Frangrance spray the rejects to turn into obedient servants, this way she had something useful out of them. Make them get snacks or whatever. There were multiple uses for mind-controlled students and teachers. So far, she didn’t find a single one worthy of her time.

“I SAID NEXT!” Masquerade shouted louder.

Masquerade sized up the black-haired girl that one of the Reflekta duplicates had pushed forward. She recognized the shy smile from television. She was one of the weather girls on the KIDZ+ network. That was a contest Lila would have KILLED to have been a part of. She mentally told herself she would have won if she had entered.

“Your Mirelle aren’t you?”

“Y-Yes, please don’t hurt me.” She pleaded.

Masquerade rolled her eyes.

“Let’s, see what the deepest parts of your mind hold.”

“Stop!’

Masquerade stopped to turn to the person that shouted.

“Well, well, well, seems we have both weather girls that go to this school.” Masquerade commented. “What a coincidence.”

Masquerade’s eyes went to the honey blonde weather girl. The akuma had to respect the fierce glare the girl was giving her.

“Aurore don’t.” Mirelle tried to plea.

“Fragrance, shut her up.”

The perfume akuma moved from the wall and sprayed the shy weather girl.”

“No!”

Masquerade felt her bracelet glow, indicating that there was an akuma victim present.”

“So, stormy weather, does this rain on your parade?”

“Don’t call me that!” Aurore spat with disgust.

“That loss still bothers you. How the city voted and you were blown out of the water.”

“I know your trying to get under my skin, it won’t work.” Aurore said. “I’ve dealt with Chloé, and she is way meaner.”

Masquerade kept her smile.

“You’re right, that wouldn’t bother me. The comments by everyone else questioning why you are there would. All of those people wondering what the point of that vote was. So now you have to constantly push harder and harder to prove you deserve to be there with Mirelle. It has become your obsession; the way people perceive you. You need to be the perfect weather girl, with the good looks and the good grades. You can’t let anyone begin to doubt your ability.”

Aurore felt her heart shatter at the comment. It was like this akuma had reached into her chest and pulled her heart out. She could see her biggest fear.

“Shut up! I am good enough! You can’t tell me otherwise.”

Masquerade felt a twinge of annoyance, but a sinister idea came into her head. She touched the perfume bottle charm, her colors shifted to match the color scheme of the Perfume akuma.

“Mirelle, tell her what she needs to here.”

The controlled weather girl felt something intrude in her mind, for a brief second, she winced, before turning into a creepy smile.

“Mirelle?”

Aurore felt her skin crawl as she turned to see her coworker and friend staring at her, a creepy smile on her face.

“You aren’t good enough. You were never good enough. You tried so hard to be charming and cute, but the network thinks your redundant. They were going to get rid of you as soon as they could. I hear they are aiming for the end of the month.” She sing-songed.

Aurore dropped to her knees. Her confidence shattered. She broke down, tears streamed down her face. She covered her hands to cry. To hear her say those awful things, was it true? Was she gone? Was all her work for nothing?

Mirelle’s creepy forced smile stayed, but from the corner of her eye, a single tear began streaming down her cheek. Unbeknown to Aurore, Masquerade was using the controlled teen like a ventriloquist dummy.

“Excellent work.”

Masquerade shifted back to her original colors and grabbed a mask from her dress before she flung it right at the depressed weather girl. She took joy in watching it clamp onto her face like an alien face-hugger. There was a brief moment of struggle, but Aurore was no more. Stormy weather had taken her place. Masquerade laughed as a new charm appeared on her bracelet.

“Finally, some better servants. And these powers are no joke.”

Stormy weather raised her umbrella at Masquerade.

“Oh? Are you trying to resist?”

The akuma’s arm was shaking, but then dropped. Her body becoming inactive, like a toy robot with its batteries removed.

“And there goes the last of your resistance. Now go out and find Ladybug and Chat noir. Lady Wifi and Bubbler haven’t returned.”

Stormy weather nodded and headed out of the classroom.

Masquerade noticed the cowering captured students and took a moment to appreciate the power she wielded. Sure, she would have preferred to have been loved by the school, but being feared is a close second.

Her joy was cut short when something pinged into her mind.

Requirements met for new akuma. Confirm merge?

‘Merge?’

Masquerade tried to figure out what that meant. What was merging.

‘The components for the akuma Oblivio are now available, would you like to merge the two akuma to make new akuma?’

“Oblivio? I don’t remember an akuma by that name?” Masquerade said to herself. “Well, if two people are needed to make it and it is making something new, it must be good. Confirm!”

A new charm appears on her bracelet, one in the shape of a question mark.

"Creating Lady Wifi, Bubbler, Oblivio fusion.'

“I wonder what this will bring.”

_____________________________________________________________

Hawkmoth got felt a sudden shift in the mood of his akuma.

"So Lila found a way to merge akuma with multiple different forms into one. And now she is able to create a completely new akuma. Perhaps Ladybug and Chat noir have finally met there match."

The butterfly villain rubbed his hands smugly as he continued observing. Though part of him wondered if Nathalie was able to secure Adrien safely.

_____________________________________________________________

“Okay, these should work.” Chat noir exclaimed as he opened two empty lockers.

Ladybug removed her yo-yo that had tied the two akuma together and shoved the two of them inside each locker before slamming it shut.

“We need something to lock them in for a while.” Ladybug exclaimed as she held the doors closed. The akuma started trying to break free. Moving in any way they could to bust out.

Chat noir looked around, looking for something to shove in front of the lockers.

“Ugh, there is nothing to barricade them with!” Chat noir exclaims.

“Just seal the doors.”

“Right!”

Chat noir put his hand on the lockers where the doors would open, he focused all his strength into his hands and crunched doors by the lock, making it impossible to open in the conventional way.

“That should hold it.” Chat noir exclaimed with relief.

Ladybug slid down the door as resistance finally ceased.

“I think they realized they can’t escape.” Chat noir eased.

Ladybug got up from the floor. They give each other a fist bump on their success.

“Well thankfully that deals with two troublesome akuma. Now we need to get to Lila before we get overrun with them.”

The two heroes quickly leave the locker room.

"By the way, you mentioned earlier I was the second person you wanted to be dancing with. Who is the first?"

Chat noir felt a faint blush on his cheeks.

"How about we talk dances later." Chat noir dodged the question.

Both heroes hurrying down the hall to try and get to Masquerade.

But after they left, the lockers they had left the akumas in started to shake wildly…

_____________________________________________________________

“Heads up!” Viperion exclaimed as he pulled Ryuuko out of the Akuma’s range. The vanishing miracular was a far more difficult opponent then both reptilian heroes were expecting. The akuma vanishes just before Ryuuko could retaliate.

“Every time we lose sight of her, she vanishes and I can’t get a clean hit!” Ryuuko grumbles.

Viperion looks around frantically.

“Yes, but I do believe we have some interesting intel. The akuma seems unable to use both her powers at the same time. She needs to turn visible in order to try and attack us with those Tonfa of hers” The snake hero explains

Ryuuko backs up, looking around to see if she can notice anything that could help her locate the sneaky servant.

“And whatever its other power is seems to involve using those Tonfa. Call it a hunch but we can’t let her use it on us.” Ryuuko discussed her instinctual feeling.

“Guard my back, she can’t sneak up on us if our backs are covered.” Viperion instructs. “Her strategy is very straight forward. We just need to wait for an opening”

“Got it.” Ryuuko says just as she notices something from the corner of her eye. “There you are.”

Ryuuko makes a charge at what appeared to be a wall, but her sword contacted Miracular’s tonfa. Forcing her visible again.

Viperion took noticed of the poor stance that Miracular had while blocking Ryuuko. He wasn’t an expert but even he could see that an unexpected hit would knock her off her feet.

He threw his lyre right at the akuma’s knees and made contact, the force causing her to buckle and Ryuuko disarmed the akuma by parrying her tonfa.

Viperion caught the weapons and broke them over his knee.

“Well that takes care of her weapons.”

Ryuuko noticed the akuma tried to get away but she dove tackled her before she could turn visable.

“Nice work. But what are we going to do to stop her from getting in the way?” Viperion inquired.

Ryuuko band the akuma's face repeatedly against the floor in order to break the mask. Sadly there was not even a scratch on it.

"Well this mask is durable. Might need to lock her somewhere."

The snake hero thought for a moment. he remembered back to a previous akuma attack. Chat noir had put him in a locker to be safe. He still remembered the playful wink the cat gave.

"Any ideas Viper piper?" Ryuuko inquired as she maintained her hold on the akuma.

"Huh? Oh right. Why not take to the locker room and throw her into a locker. She isn't super strong so we could easily just toss her in and lock it. Also, what is with the nickname?"

"I heard that giving people nicknames helps endear people to you."

"Okay, well you can keep trying, but I don't play pipes. What other ones do you have."

"... That was the only one I had... Ill try and come up with more as we go."

"Looking forward to it ... Dra-girl"

Ryuuko paused to look at him as she stood up with the akuma.

"Yea... It felt wrong as soon as I said it. Lets just go."

_____________________________________________________________

Chloé had given most of the akuma she encountered the slip. Not from expert hiding of fighting skill, she simply walked passed them. A normal individual would realize how amazing it was that as long as you don’t freak out, the akuma basically don’t notice. But to Chloé, it felt insulting. Did the akuma seriously believe she was not worth chasing?

“Un-be-lievable.” Chloé huffed. “Most of these akuma would have been chasing me like crazy by now.”

She grumbled to herself as she made it to the front entrance, which she realized had been slimed on.

“EWW, they got that nasty slime monster on their side.”

The mayor’s daughter felt a mix of disgust and annoyance. With this door sealed, she would need to get to one of the other exits, on the other side of the school.

“This would be a really good time for Ladybug to show up and let me be Queen bee.” Chloé stated aloud.

But the area she was in was practically empty.

“Figures.” Chloé sighed. “Why do these gross rejects always have to make things so annoying!”

Unfortunately for her, her complaints did attract some attention from a group of Reflekta copies roaming the halls.

“We order you to come with us!” The three reflektas sang in unison. Chloé didn’t know or care if the original was among them.

“How about no.” Chloé scoffed. She pushed one of them down and walked past them. The other two rushed to her to capture her. But Chloé easily knocked both of the reflektas down easy. The servants were not use to walking in heels. They may be controlled, but Chloé can tell when an amateur walking in gaudy heels from a mile away.

“You 3 need to learn how to walk and a lesson on fashion before you can even THINK of taking me hostage.” Chloé flipped her hair and smugly continued walking, as the three reflektas tried to get up.

Hidden from view, hiding in what appeared to be an abandoned janitor’s cleaning cart, an old man popped his head out slightly.

“Ladybug does need all the help she could get right now…But would she be the right choice?”

_____________________________________________________________ (End of Part 36.)

What other akuma will be joining Masquerade's ranks?

Will Ladybug and Chat noir be able to face the old and new threats?

Will Mayura cause more problems or solve em?

Also, what do you think this new akuma fusion will look like?

I would love to see your takes.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #ml soulmate survey #soulmate survey #ml fic #ml fanfic #miraculous fanfic #ss fic #ml au #slight lukagami #chloé bourgeois #masquerade akuma #fan akuma #drama #action #new akuma #ladynoig #ladybug #chat noir

495 notes · View notes

slasherscream · 4 years ago

Note

Hi I don’t know if you write for Thomas Hewitt or Vincent Sinclair but if you do you could you please make some headcanons about them and the other slashers like if they got into a fight with their s/o and how it would go, what it would be about, and how they would make up with their s/o please? It’s totally fine if you don’t want to. But if you do then thank you so much!

fighting with the slashers

A/N: i do write for vincent (on a related note i also write for bo and maybe lester i haven’t tried him out yet)!

vincent sinclair

You didn’t stay put when Vincent told you to and you got hurt.

You hadn’t planned to leave. Until the sun started to go down and no one came back to the house to check up on you the way they so often do when there are visitors in town.

You are Ambrose’s second best kept secret. Alive because Vincent took one look at you and couldn’t bare to hurt you. And though Bo gripes about you he couldn’t tell Vincent no. Not when Bo saw the way Vincent held you behind him, head lowered but shoulders set, ready to actually fight him on something for once in their lives.

So you’re kept in the house when there are people around. Other than not being able to leave it’s your only real rule. Vincent wants you to have no part in the more grisly aspects of the town and Bo and Lester honor his wish.

But the town is dead silent and no one has come to check on you. Most times Lester even comes to stay with you like some sort of babysitter. It used to irritate you, despite your fondness for the youngest brother. Now without him there your hands shake, and your eyes wander, and your ears burn as if pumping extra blood there will make you hear better. But there’s nothing to be heard. No screams. No cries. No Bo shouting. No guns going off.

So you leave the house, searching for one of them. Instead you’re found by a survivor and held hostage in front of the twins.

You all stand still for a long while, the victim not knowing what to do and the boys unable to move due to the knife digging into your neck, already drawing blood.

Lester had been the one to save you, sneaking up behind your captor and stabbing them. You ran to Vincent on shaking legs and he gathered you into his arms, moving to take you back home. You could hear the screams of the man who’d almost killed you ringing through the streets behind you and shivered.

Vincent had cleaned your cut in silence and somehow had managed to barely touch you. Before you could blink he’d shut himself into his workshop and you were left alone until Bo came home and chewed you out.

You kept yourself busy cleaning and then prepared for bed, knowing it would be awhile before Vincent would come and join you. The sleep didn’t come easy as you were still shaken up, but eventually it came.

You woke in the middle of the night to an empty bed and realized that if you didn’t go to get him Vincent wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight.

You walk drowsily through Ambrose’s underbelly, the smoldering heat not doing you any favors, until you arrive at Vincent’s workshop where he’s hunched over his desk, unmoving.

Not wanting to startle him you call his name quietly and you see his head tilt in acknowledgement but he doesn’t turn to look at you.

Slowly you move until your front is resting against his back, even slower your arms encircle him and you kiss his shoulder, feeling guilty at the tension laying dormant in them. “I’m sorry, Vince. I was just worried about you so... so I left the house. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry I didn’t listen. I won’t do it again.”

He turns and there’s a pause, and then he moves his hands, fluid but slow. They’re shaking despite how strong you know they are. He tells you how he can’t lose you. How he loves you. He asks you to promise him that next time you’ll listen and you do, and you mean it.

It’s only then that he pulls you into his lap and holds you tightly. You think he’s crying behind his mask but you just hold him back equally as tight and whisper I’m sorry against his steady pulse.

pelle

He doesn’t like the company you keep.

He has a plan. He has a plan to take you away from this strange, uncaring world that doesn’t deserve you. That doesn’t love you or care about you. If he sticks to the plan everything will be so easy.

But sometimes Pelle loves you too much to bite his tongue.

He can see it clearly, your perfect future where he takes care of you, and his family takes care of you, and you let them do it, and you’re happier for it; but you don’t live in that perfect future, you live in the frigid, imperfect present.

Here you stay up late in the night to help a friend finish a term paper when last week they didn’t even call when you were sick. You gave a classmate your umbrella to borrow a month ago, and today you come back shaking from the rain because they never bothered to return it.

A thousand little kindnesses that the world outside the Hårga spit on.

He knows that all these moments of careless apathy towards you will only strengthen the draw you’ll feel when you finally meet his family.

You have the heart of a Hårga and he knows that you’ll feel that connection.

Still, the way the outside world, the way your friends and family slight you at every turn, makes his blood run hot. He’s never felt anger like this before. It is all consuming and yet he must stomach it alone.

And so his tongue is careless sometimes. He asks in tones that he shouldn’t use with you “you’re going out with them again?” and “but didn’t they-?” and still he is angry. The words do not ease the feelings because they do not fix the problem.

Pelle must lead you into the arms of his family and their way of life. He cannot push you. But he doesn’t know how not to take care of you.

He wants to beat away the leeches and moths that cling to your light and whisk you away to home where the sun will warm you with its love.

Your fights are gentle, and so you might never refer to them as fights when people ask you if you ever argue with Pelle.

There is no yelling, or balled fists, or the animal sensation of fight or flight. He leads you to sit down with him and holds your face in his hands. Unthinkingly you mimic the gesture and he smiles at you lovingly. One kiss and he tells you that he doesn’t like your friends. Another and he says that you deserve better, deserve the world.

You try to get a word in edgewise, to deny the claims he makes, to tell him that they really do care about you, but the words are smothered by his soft lips. He kisses you until your brain goes somewhere loved and numb. He slips your coat off of your shoulders and pulls you close. He keeps you there until you forget that you had anywhere to be besides his arms.

You and Pelle don’t fight.

chucky and tiffany

Tiffany is used to Chucky being a piece of shit. You are not.

Upside to fighting with Chucky is that Tiffany is immediately on your side, even if you’re in the wrong (I’m joking it’s always Chucky’s fault.)

Downside is that the whole house is now up in fucking chaos.

chucky: tiff where are my fucking keys?

tiffany: in hell! why don’t you go and grab them?

You appreciate her fighting spirit but she’s really going in on y’all’s man.

Which is not to say that Chucky doesn’t deserve it. Because he does deserve it, but you know from personal experience that being on Tiffany’s bad side is scary.

Why are you and Chucky fighting? Chucky is an insensitive asshole, and even the toughest skin isn’t bullet proof.

The aftermath of whatever Chucky did is a lot of sullen silence from you; the sounds of a knife chopping a little too loudly in the kitchen from Tiff; and loud bits of huffing and puffing from Chucky as he stomps around the house.

At first he thinks he can just wait out your anger until you start missing him. It used to work with Tiffany all the time!

But this relationship involves three people. You’re not so quick to get desperately lonely, especially if Tiffany isn’t the partner you’re fighting with. Do you miss Chucky? Sure. Do you miss him enough to let him be an asshole just to get some cuddle time in on the couch? As if! Tiffany is the better cuddler anyway.

The man child is going to have to say sorry and mean it.

Of course this means that your relationship is going be sans-Chucky for at least a week.

Tiffany reaches the breaking point before Chucky does. Obviously more in-tune with your feelings she can tell how much the fight is getting to you and no one messes with her sweetheart! Not even Chucky.

You’re going to hear her delicately clearing her throat, look up from your phone, and find Tiffany holding Chucky at fucking knife point.

tiffany: do you have anything to say, chucky?

chucky, trying to decide if he’ll let tiffany kill him just to prove a point: ....

tiffany: i’ll start with your dick-

chucky: i’m sorry! are you fucking hAPPY?!

You’re gonna be like no!!! I do not accept the apology you gave me under extreme duress! At which point you turn over in bed and pull the covers over your head.

You’ll hear rapid-fire whispering and then the bed dips behind you. A knee presses into your back, and kisses are pressed carelessly to where your head should be beneath the covers. Then, finally, the quietest “I didn’t mean it, doll.” as he pulls the blanket back in order to look at your face.

You’re stopped dead by the softness on his face. By the softness he let’s you see, even if it’s only for a moment. It might not be the words I’m sorry but it sounds like them. It sounds like an I miss you, as well.

When you drop your phone and throw your arms around his neck, touching him for the first time in a week, Chucky sighs in relief.

Not ten seconds passes before Tiffany has thrown herself over the both of you, suffocating you in her loving embrace. Just like that, balance is restored in the Lee Ray-Valentine household. For now.

#vincent sinclair x reader #chucky x reader #tiffany valentine x reader #pelle x reader #tiffany valentine x reader x chucky #slasher x reader #charles lee ray x reader #bride of chucky #house of wax #not my first thing for vincent being sad adjifjd #the juxtaposition between vincent's part of this post and the poly tiff and chucky part??#fill.

799 notes · View notes

bump1nthen1ght · 4 years ago

Text

I’m Still Hurting (Orc x Reader) Part 2

Pairings: Fem!Reader/Male!Orc

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Angst

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2107 words

Summary: You and your boyfriend establish a new normal

A/N: At long last, the highly requested part two! I had a bit of struggle coming up with a proper followup to the first part (which was part of why I left it with an open-ended ending in the first place lol). Little less angst this time, I felt these two deserved a little sweetness after the last chapter. Hope y'all enjoy!

Part 1

The first thing that caught your eye when you walked by the music store was the Grand Piano. It was gorgeous: Polished mahogany, a nice velvet seat, and keys that looked like they had never seen the sticky fingers of a curious 8 year old.

“Wow, is that new?”

You nod, admiring the old-fashioned air of the instrument. You knew jack shit about music, but even you could tell that this piano was an antique, one probably worth a good chunk of change.

“Must be. I’ve never seen it before and this place is on my way to work.”

Waruck hmms, pressing his hands up against the glass. His eyes sparkle when he sees the “Free to Play” sign right next to the piano. It probably reminds him of his Grandpa’s, the one he played when you guys visited his family for Christmas.

That was a long time ago.

“Want to go in?”

Waruck pulls away from the glass, eyebrows raised. He rubs the back of his neck and steps a couple feet back, trying to curb his enthusiasm.

“Uh, we don’t have to-”

“I don’t mind. It's been a while-” You pause, the slight-anxiety in the air making every casual word difficult, “It’s been a while since I’ve heard you play.”

Waruck smiles, small and polite, and opens the door of the shop for you. Before, he might have done a little bow and said “Ladies First” in a British accent.

But that was before, and this is now. Now, every comment is walking on eggshells, whispered tentatively and under your breath. Testing the waters for how comfortable you two could get around each other.

Still, it was exponential growth from two months ago.

--------

After your meeting at the coffee shop, you had asked Waruck for a month; A month of privacy, for you to collect your thoughts and feelings, to be alone for a bit. He had agreed immediately, shuffling out of the cafe with a hunched back and a melancholy air, but he had kept his promise. You took the time to focus on other things, shifting your relationship to the back of your mind and enjoying the day-to-day.

But a part of you felt a little bad, like maybe you were stringing Waruck along for an inevitable breakup. Getting his hopes up for an extra tortuous punishment that left a sour taste in your mouth. So on one brave Saturday night, you sent him a meme you saw on Instagram, one that reminded you of him.

That second month saw the two of you texting more and more frequently, sending little jokes, asking how your day was, so and so. Each week rebuilt a little bit more of that familiarity, that comfortableness. It finally got to the point where Waruck asked if you were free one weekend. He just wanted to get some lunch and stroll around the neighborhood for a bit. For the first time in a while, that idea didn’t seem too bad.

--------

The air is considerably cooler inside the store, a tiny bell ringing as a rush of air-conditioned air hits both of you. Waruck makes a beeline for the piano, his footsteps short and quick. You feel a smile crawl on your face; He always acted like an excited kid when it came to music.

Waruck plops down in the center of the stool, fingers lightly brushing over the keys in awe. You walk up the piano’s side, laying your hand on the wood and admiring the lack of smudge marks on the polished wood. Waruck tests out a G note and although the sound is short, it’s extremely pleasant. Waruck’s smile grows even larger.

“When I was a young boy…”

You mutter under your breath. Waruck chuckles, quickly continuing onto a G flat.

“My father took me into the city,” Waruck hums

“To see a marching band.” The two of you sing together, laughing a little bit too loudly and gaining a sharp look from the tired sales clerk. Waruck waves a little apology, but that playful grin stays on his face.

“Wow, that brings back some repressed Hot Topic memories.”

“Seriously. I can almost feel the book my band teacher used to thwack me with. Me and my buddies would sneak into the choir room and play that all the time.” Waruck’s fingers dance over a couple more notes, aimless.

You’ve always liked watching Waruck play. His fingers were so dextrous and controlled, not to mention long and nicely articulated. He’d probably make good money from a hand-model side-gig.

“Want to take a seat?”

You shift your focus away from Waruck’s hands. He’s made space on the bench and pats the open space next to him.

“Yeah, sure.” You say, despite the fast pace your heart is now beating.

You keep a solid two inches of distance between your bodies, keeping your thighs together as to not brush your legs with his. It felt like a middle school dance, keeping a bible length away from your partner to avoid the disapproving stare of the chaperones.

Waruck nods, absentmindedly running his fingers up the scale. “Any requests?”

Immediately, all non-love songs depart from your brain. One of your favorite pieces sits on the tip of your tongue and your brain refuses to let it go. You shake your head.

“Nope. It’s all yours, music man.”

Waruck chuckles, a little louder and a lot more comfortable, as he sits deeper in his seat.

“Prepare,” Waruck cracks his knuckles, “to be amazed.”

You bite back a laugh. He’s still such a dork.

He starts to play, his hands easily finding the right keys, moving like a well-oiled machine. Your heart nearly skips a beat before it melts into a puddle of sentiment.

It’s your favorite.

The song brings back memories of your childhood, a rainy day in, and delicious food. It’s like chicken soup for the soul and you can feel any of the left over tension leave your body.

Waruck’s eyebrows furrow with concentration, but he has a large smile on his face, his large tusks peeking out from his lips. His arm stretches across the piano as the song hits its most fast-paced part. His biceps and shoulders lean more into your space, but the feeling isn’t unwelcome. It feels natural, as if his presence and yours is part of the piece itself.

Waruck’s thigh brushes against yours, but his pace doesn’t falter and neither does yours. You stay enraptured, watching how easily he slips into the music. You barely even notice how you have begun to lean closer to his side; Your mind says it’s to give his arms plenty of space to play, but it’s still far more comfortable than you are willing to admit.

How easy it feels, in the moment, to fall back into routine.

The song begins slowing to a stop, only a couple seconds left, when the sounds of the music shop return to you. A giggle from not too far rings discordant with Waruck’s piano.

Three girls stand not too far from you, watching with fascination as Waruck plays.

“Wow, he is so good!” One whispers to her friends.

There is nothing even remotely lascivious in their eyes or in their words, but a knife still twists in your gut. Your throat constricts as flashes of your bedroom, of unanswered texts, and a picture of a bar corner booth send needles down your spine and into your heart.

Is this wrong? Is this giddy feeling you have only distracting you from reality? Is it like this song, Waruck’s playing, beautiful but temporary?

“Ugh, I want what they have.”

“I know, right? How romantic.”

They’re wrong, you’re wrong, this is wrong; It’s fake, fake, fa-

Your eyes dart to and fro, trying to desperately avoid Waruck’s quickly overwhelming body heat and your audience, before it catches on the distorted shape of your reflection in the window.

The glass is old, slightly drooping, even the golden lettering of the music shop’s name looks dusty and sun-bleached.

But what is unmistakable is you and Waruck. Waruck, playing piano, and looking at you. Looking at you with the love in his eyes you thought had died, or had never been there at all. The group of girls stands in the background, small and out of focus.

And Waruck is staring at you.

“Are you okay?” Waruck asks, his warm hand on your shoulder.

You whip your neck around, almost getting whiplash.

You’re here, in the music store, with your boyfriend. He looks at you, brow slightly puzzled from your wild eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I,” You suck in a deep breath, “Sorry, I guess I got lost in my own head. That song gets me kind of nostalgic.”

Waruck pats your shoulder and you miss it’s heat when he pulls it back to his side. He smiles, but you can tell he is still slightly worried.

“No problem, I get it.”

You notice now how much closer Waruck is to you. His chest has shifted towards yours, the fabric of his shirt sleeve pressing against the skin of your bicep. Waruck’s knee absentmindedly knocks into yours, but the contact doesn’t sting or jolt you. Not even the continuing silence makes the situation awkward.

It’s nice.

“Do you want to check out the record aisle? They might actually have that piece on vinyl.”

Waruck gestures with his thumb to the piles of CD’s and records not too far from you two. You nod

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

--------

The two of you spend about an hour in the music store, pointing out hilarious cover art and admiring some vintage finds. Waruck even gets you to chuckle a couple of times, slowly bringing out his old cheesy puns.

Waruck’s missed this.

You two walk out of the music store at the tail end of one of Waruck’s jokes, you playfully punching his shoulder.

The two of you wander, in the opposite direction of your cars, for a little while. But Waruck hasn’t lost track of time; No, he’s soaking in every moment he can, every smile and lingering look you give him. Every reminder that this is real.

He spent a week agonizing over what he did. Stuck in silence as he gave you your space. His friends (His real friends, not those assholes from the bar) had offered to come by and keep him company, but he turned it down.

When Waruck got back into routine, it was slow-rolling. It was difficult to fight the instinct to check his phone for a good-morning text, or check your Instagram for any ‘post-breakup’ partying.

No, he had already broken your trust once. The least he could do was give you some time. Spend some hour not wallowing in self-pity, but actively make a change.

Waruck began to accept those invites to a chill hang out, playing some poker and sipping on beer with the gang. He played his keyboard when the thoughts got too loud and went jogging when the music wasn’t loud enough. He called his mom a couple of times, even sent his sister a couple of texts to catch up. They hadn’t spoken outside of holidays for almost three years.

Maybe he was the one that needed time.

God, why did you have to be so smart?

“Oh shit, how long have we been walking?” You mutter, checking your watch for the time. Waruck turns around you, already knowing the answer was 27 minutes, exactly. The both of you were nearing the edge of the neighborhood, cafes and shops turning into residential suburbs. “Dang, time really flies, huh?”

Waruck smiles.

“With you? It always does.”

You give him a half smile, patting his bicep. “Oh my god, you’re such a cheeseball.”

Waruck winks and shoots you some finger guns.

“You know it babe.”

You giggle, checking your watch once more, face turning just a little bit.

“I should probably head back, I’m getting dinner with some friends tonight.”

A small part of Waruck yearns for more time, but he lets it go.

Space, this was about establishing space.

“I had a lot of fun today, Waruck.” You step a little closer, Waruck’s heart skips a beat.

“Me too.” He whispers, his breath catching as your fingers brush against his.

It’s a simple gesture, one you’ve down a million times. But when your palm slips into his, your finger’s interlocking, it’s like fireworks have gone off.

“Same time, next week?”

Waruck nods, not trusting himself to speak without a voice crack.

That’s all he needed, all you wanted; The promise of the future.

“Yes, I would love that.”

#my writing #orc x reader #reader insert #female reader insert #orc/human #monster/human #monster x reader #monster/reader #angst #orc

346 notes · View notes

ahatintimepieces · 3 years ago

Text

It Comes Down in Buckets

Before Luka and Hattie ended up in Subcon, they faced many challenges on the road as they adjusted to Luka’s curse. This is a lil gift for Mak, @doodledrawsthings, and their “””Coffeeshop au””” where Luka pushes himself a bit too hard while trying to make the day special for Hattie. Please enjoy!

Word Count: 7,678

The rolling waves tumbled against the velvet sand and the morning sunlight skipped across the foaming crests, painting them gold. Hattie’s grip tightened around the old bucket she had found as she inhaled the salty, fishy air. Standing at the patches of grass that separated the edge of the forest from the beach, she gazed out at the shore. Her sketchbook waited in her backpack, begging her to pull it out and to memorialize the look of the sea and snapshot the ebb and flow of surging waves, but she had work to do.

She had to find the prettiest seashells before anyone else so she could sell them for some extra cash. Every little bit helped.

Weaving down to the beach, the warming sand caught between her toes and kicked up with each flop and flip of her flipflops. She swung the dented bucket with rust stains as she hurried to the lapping tide. She stepped into the water and immediately squealed before jumping back from the cold. The foam receded, as if teasing her, and an impish grin spread across her features.

As the water crawled back up the shore, Hattie fixed her old baseball cap and then leapt into the ankle-deep wave. Her initial screech dissolved into laughter. Splashing around, her flipflops tossed clouds of murky dust up and the sloshing, icy water splattered against her leg. She placed her hands on her hips and struck a pose as she gazed out at the sliver of light where the sky paralleled the ocean. With the cascading crackles of the snapping sea rumbling around her, it was hard not to let her mind wander into daydreams.

She could picture it perfectly. A calm day at the beach. No time limits for her dad, no worrying about money, and he could finally rest. He could finally be happy again. And she could play in the surf and chase crabs, pretend to be a pirate finding buried treasure, or draw and paint next to her dad as he napped. She could picture it so perfectly.

But she glanced down at the bucket as it bumped against her hip. Its creaking handle brought her back to reality.

Hattie let out a huff before shuffling out of the grasp of the waves, where it would be easier to spot shells. But before she did, a playful crest rolled back to reveal the tip of a fancy looking shell. Gasping, Hattie knelt and carefully tugged the shell free and revealed what she always thought of as a mini conch, though her dad would probably tell her that it was whelk of some kind since it had a rounder top and thinner end.

After checking the inside cavity for any snail or sea critter by poking a cautious finger around to confirm it was empty, she held the whelk to her ear.

She grinned when she heard the ocean. But she was also standing in it so the shell could still potentially be a dud. Nevertheless, she placed it into the bucket, and it slid around as she went searching for more.

As Hattie combed the beach, a couple people showed up to lounge on the sand or wade in the surf. It didn’t get crowded, since it was a workday, but when she wandered towards the opposite side of the long beach, where the sand was cut off by rounded boulders that jutted out into the sea, she ran into a tourist screaming at a seagull.

“What’s wrong?” Hattie called as she hoisted her bucket overflowing with shells to the side to make it easier to sprint forward.

“That darn seagull took my stuff!” The tourist gestured angrily towards a seagull perched on one of the rocks surrounded by water. It bobbed its head around as it stood proudly over a grey camera. Sunlight glinted against the lens.

“I’ll get it,” Hattie offered without hesitation. She placed the bucket down and scrambled up the boulders.

“Wait, kid, you don’t have to!” He waved his hands across his chest, trying to get her to stop, but it was too late. She didn’t listen as she assessed the slippery boulders and slowly navigated her way across.

She came to the edge of the final boulder and eyed the gap between it and the one in the waves. The seagull cocked its head towards her and let out a squawk. Pausing, Hattie glanced around, trying to figure out how to distract the seagull.

Before she could, the seagull snapped its beak towards something behind her and she glanced over her shoulder to find the tourist was waving a sandwich around. The seagull swooped over her, and she belatedly ducked as it soared over to the tourist. He yelped and turned on his heels before sprinting from the squawking bird.

Hattie tugged her cap down in determination before turning back towards the rock. She took a cautious step back before lunging from the boulder and vaulting onto the next. Grunting after she smacked against the rock, she scrambled up and grabbed the camera. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and nestled the camera between her sketchbook and Professor Popcorn. For good measure, she tucked her dad’s hoodie around it to keep it extra safe.

Once her backpack was zipped, she looped her arms through the straps and got ready to jump back.

The tourist had returned to his spot, hunched over and panting with his cap askew and white and grey feathers stuck to his vibrant orange shirt. She inhaled a steadying breath and leapt back towards shore.

She misjudged the distance.

Nearly sliding over the side of the rock, she scraped her knee against stone as she clambered and clawed. Panic squeezed her chest until she could finally find her grip.

“Careful, now!” the tourist called as she hoisted herself up with her heart pounding. She glanced towards the worried man and gave him a thumbs up before crawling forward.

Her stinging knee threatened to buckle when she first stood, but she gritted her teeth and pushed onward. She navigated back to the beach and dropped down onto the sand.

“Geez, kid, that was dangerous!” the tourist sighed as Hattie pulled out his camera.

“But I got it!” She beamed, holding it out proudly. Her smile faltered when she noticed the identical camera that hung around his neck. His chin tilted down as he followed her gaze.

“I was trying to tell you, I have a spare,” he said apologetically. “But, hey! Since you got it, why don’t you keep it? It’s great for preserving memories!”

Hattie pulled the camera back, appraising the contraption.

Preserving memories? No matter how much she sketched all the places she and her father had been, it might be nice to be able to just take a picture to quickly capture everything. She could take a picture of the sea, in fact. But she stared into the curved lens with growing dismay.

Flashes of headlights and blinding snaps. Posters with blurry images of her shadowy dad offering money for anyone who could capture the pictured creature, dead or alive. And, even when he shapeshifted, he was still so jumpy around cameras.

Maybe she could sell it at a pawn shop for a little extra cash? In the meantime, it might not hurt to keep it on hand…

“Oh, hold on,” the tourist exclaimed, startling her out of her thoughts. She tucked the camera back into her backpack and blinked up at him with wide blue eyes. “You got quite the scrape there, let me help.” He motioned her over to his set up on the beach, complete with a towel and umbrella.

After the tourist helped her clean up and shared back-up sandwiches he had prepared, she let him choose one of the shells to take as thanks and set off to sell the rest.

She set up a little area at the top of the beach, halfway between the rest of the city and the parking lot for beach goers. After doodling a cute sign declaring her wares were ready, she caught the eyes of passersby and wove imaginative tales about the shells for anyone who came near. Since this wasn’t the first time that she had sold items that she salvaged while her dad worked, she had developed a good enough sense to get a read on personalities and how to appeal to them. Parents with children were easily swayed by silly stories about the shells. She even managed to convince a businessman walking by to purchase one since her wares were far cheaper than the nearby souvenir shops that sold the same shells. And, after all, hers were higher quality and, really, didn’t he want to support an aspiring entrepreneur? (It probably helped her chances that she practiced that word a few times prior to make sure she was pronouncing it right).

She bolted when she spotted some cops patrolling the area, though.

By the end of the day, she successfully sold more than half of her shells. She tucked the coins and cash safely into an inside pocket in her backpack, where her secret stash would help her buy food for whenever her dad inevitably got stuck in noddle form and couldn’t work. She had tried giving her earnings to him directly before, but he had only gotten upset, insisting she didn’t need to worry about money and it was his job to take care of her, not the other way around. But they both knew that he often pushed himself past his limits, and he couldn’t do everything himself.

She was just beginning to collect firewood close to their camp when footsteps tracked through the grass. Hattie froze, turning towards the sound and holding her breath. Golden light flickered between the trees and an approaching shadow broke into the small clearing.

“Hey, kiddo!” Her dad, still in his human form, which surprised her, jumped forward with a wide grin and his hands behind his back. Wrinkles lined the corners of his eyes, but he was alert with enthusiasm as he straightened. A plastic bag crinkled noisily as it swayed behind him. “Guess what I got for our most important celebration tonight?”

“Celebration?” Hattie tilted her head, though his energy was infectious, and she cracked a smile.

“Don’t tell me you forgot what day it is,” he teased, bringing his hand forward and adjusting the delivery cap he wore for his morning job of delivering papers.

“Payday?” she guessed, crossing over to their firepit and dropping the dry twigs and branches she found.

“N-no, kiddo,” he faltered, quirking a brow as he revealed a plastic bag with local dollar store logo. “It’s your birthday!”

“Oh.” She blinked up at him.

“Did you really forget?” His features fell and the worn creases on his face highlighted the underlining fatigue. “We talked about it, right? When we were-when we were moving.”

“Y-yeah,” Hattie said. She did sort of remember now that he mentioned it, but she hadn’t thought too much about it since they had other things to worry about. “I just forgot what day of the week it is.”

He didn’t seem to believe her but he accepted the excuse.

“Well, I got hot dogs and marshmallows,” he added quickly, pulling out a bag of large marshmallows for emphasis. If he sensed how she tensed, he ignored it and gestured towards the direction of the beach. “I thought we could start a fire at one of the communal firepits and have a cookout!”

“What about our camp?” Hattie gestured to the little circle of rocks they had set up a few days ago when they first decided to settle in this city.

“It’ll still be here,” he promised. After tucking the marshmallows back into the bag, he walked over to her pile of wood and searched for the longest and cleanest sticks.

“But the beach is out in the open,” she pressed, nervously fiddling with the edge of her shirt. “Don’t you need to change back?”

“Of course not!” he insisted with a little more force than he probably intended. In a lighter tone, he waved his hand dismissively with a smile plastered across his face. “I can hold it together long enough for your birthday. Come on! Let’s have fun!”

He placed a few sticks he deemed worthy for hot dog and marshmallow roasting into the plastic bag and then motioned for her to follow.

“But—” she hesitated.

“You know, I used to do this when I was a kid,” he jumped enthusiastically into the memory, not giving her a chance to argue. She frowned but grabbed her backpack and the bucket that still had the leftover seashells.

Hey, if they were going to be on the beach, she might as well keep an eye out for more.

“Any time we went camping, we would grab a bunch of hot dogs and marshmallows. Of course,” he added a bit quietly as they walked through the woods, “usually we had buns and graham crackers and chocolate. But I did snag some ketchup packets from the restaurant!” He beamed proudly.

Hattie forced a smile, though guilt gnawed at the reminder that he had worked two jobs that day, trying to get enough money together so that they could find a motel to stay at sooner than later. She considered giving him the money she had saved, but she didn’t want to cause him more grief especially since she could tell he was masking his exhaustion. Maybe she could hide the money where he would find it with his things? She could pass it off as him misplacing the bills!

Though, both of them had become increasingly vigilant when dealing with money in the past couple years. He would have noticed if that much went missing in the first place.

“Here we are,” he gestured to the firepit closest to the forest the second they walked onto the sand. “Sit tight while I get the fire going.” There was wrapped firewood next to the pit, all ready for them and their cookout. His water bottle was also leaning against one of the logs, indicating that he had stopped by before running to get her. While he finished setting up, Hattie gazed out at the sea.

The water mirrored the stretch of twilight. Orange-pink rays of dwindling sunlight lingered on the horizon and the occasional star twinkled in the darkening sky. Crackles and pops that came from the growing fire behind her mingled with the surging waves before her. And when her dad joined her side and held out his hand, she smiled as she took it, keeping her gaze locked on the horizon.

“It’s like that one picture in the book at the library in the last town,” she whispered, craning her neck back to meet his warm golden gaze. “The one with the watercolor illustrations!”

“It is!” he agreed, giving her hand a tight squeeze.

“I want to paint something like this one day,” she admitted, turning back to the sea.

“I bet you can, and sooner than you think.” His smile permeated his voice. He gently tugged her hand and nodded towards the firepit. Despite the lines under his eyes, he did seem happy, and that was good enough for Hattie.

“Okay!” She joined him on a log, and eagerly waited for him to pass her a stick he doused with water to keep it from burning.

Her dad filled her in on his day as they roasted the hot dogs. He got her laughing with a few jokes his coworkers shared, and she nodded knowingly when he told her about some of the customers he had worked with. When he asked about her day as he broke open the bag of marshmallows, she explained that she was looking for seashells and presented the bucket with her findings.

“Quick, if you have twenty seashells and I take five, how many do you have left?” he quizzed.

“F-fifteen!” Hattie blinked, hesitating only a moment as she registered the question.

“Good girl,” he praised, passing over a marshmallow.

“If you bought one bag of marshmallows for tonight, how many marshmallows will you have tomorrow morning?” She blinked up at him, trying and failing to conceal her growing smirk.

“Hmm.” He speared his own marshmallow as he gave her a wry grin. “That’s a tough one, why don’t you give me a hint?”

“Zero!” She pulled her burning marshmallow out of the fire and quickly blew on it.

The flames dissipated into a plume of smoke, leaving a burnt crust behind on the marshmallow. Without waiting, she popped it into her mouth and the gooey burst of molten sugar melted on her tongue.

“Becath I’ll eat ‘em all!” she declared through her sticky mouthful.

“Just don’t choke!” He chuckled before putting his arm around her and giving her a side squeeze. She immediately snuggled into his side, comforted by his warmth.

As they worked through the marshmallows and the night cloaked the beach, Hattie pulled out the hoodie and tugged it over herself. The hoodie was far too big since it was her dad’s but despite the floppy sleeves and how it was more like a dress on her, it was cozy and kept the night chill away. She became even cozier when her dad plucked her up and enveloped her in a hug.

“Happy birthday, princess,” he whispered as he nuzzled his cheek against hers.

“Hap—erm,” her cheeks flushed since she had almost wished him a happy birthday back. “Thank you.”

He chuckled and gave her a tight squeeze.

“Okay, I have one more surprise,” he said, arching back and stretching his arm maybe a bit farther than a human arm should, and rummaged around the plastic bag.

She leaned over, trying to peek and his other hand moved over her eyes.

“Don’t look!” He shifted around a bit before Hattie felt something lower into her lap. “Alright, now you can.” He pulled his hand away and she immediately glanced down.

Watercolors. A plastic palette of watercolors rested in her lap with a tiny brush snuggly tucked into a divot on the side. A single golden ribbon was taped on for the birthday wrapping. Her chest tightened as she imagined all the things she could paint, all the things she wanted to bring to life with water-soaked pigments.

But how much did he spend on her?

“Well?” he prompted with an edge of nervousness. “Is it okay?”

“I love it.” In one swift movement, she hugged the palette before swiveling around and burying her face into his chest. A lump threatened to lodge in her throat, but she swallowed it as she hugged her dad.

“Oh, Hattie.” He leaned over her and held her tightly. “I’m glad. I know it’s not much.”

“It’s perfect,” she promised, grasping his shirt.

He did so much for her, sacrificed so much just to take care of her, and now this? She wished she could do more to help.

After a few moments of lingering in his embrace, she pulled back while rubbing at her eyes.

“Everything oh-ahem.” Her dad suddenly pulled his hand away from his task of brushing her hair back. She wrinkled her nose as she blinked up at him.

He held his hand behind his back and his nervous, forced smile revealed his growing fangs.

“Dad,” she shuffled out of his lap, “you need to change back.”

She glanced around the beach quickly, relieved that there was no one nearby to see him.

“No!” He winced when an edge of a reverb tainted his voice. He cleared his throat and waved his other hand dismissively. It had completely turned ebony-violet. “I’m fine! I can hold it for a little long—” he stalled as he glimpsed his other hand and snapped it behind his back too, “—longer.”

Hattie frowned with her brows drooping. His irises radiated golden light as his pupils faded.

“Please. I know I can—” he faltered, pulling his hands back and holding them out before himself. His fingers trembled as they dripped, trying to reconnect. He bit his lip and grimaced when his lengthening fangs jabbed him. The familiar, purple-singed shadows spread from the expanding tips of his chestnut hair.

“It’s okay,” she insisted, turning around and rolling up the sleeves of the hoodie to start cleaning up so that they could head back to camp. She knew he was probably more exhausted than he let on.

“But it’s your birthday,” he whispered in such a broken voice that she felt a world of guilt press against her shoulders.

“And I can still spend it with you as a noodle!” She kept her tone light, giving him a smile strained from her concern.

The gold had encased his eyes and his teeth became backlit by a surging light in his throat. He considered her with tight dismay before scowling.

“No!” He pushed to his feet. “No, I can do this!”

“But, Dad,” Hattie called anxiously, unable to do anything but watch as he paced by the bonfire.

He held his hands out in front of himself, clenching them as he stared daggers into his purple palms. During his pacing, his legs began to quiver, and he paused, hunching as his hair began to drip. His fingers merged into mittens, taking on a gloopy appearance and Hattie thought that that was it, that he would just start getting bigger. She opened her mouth to try and get him to focus on saving his clothes, but the words died in her throat.

“Stop changing,” he wheezed in a wavering voice. He doubled over, clutching his stomach as he strained to keep a human shape. He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, snuffing out his golden light. The flickering fire cast twisting shadows against his trembling form. His arms lost all pretense of having bones and flopped down like limp noodles. His legs buckled and he thrust out his hand to catch himself.

“Something’s wrong!” Hattie hurried to his side, reaching out as his mitten hand clenching the sand lost its shape entirely and expanded into a puddle.

“N-no,” his reverberating voice gurgled behind globs of dripping purple that stretched across his mouth when he parted his lips. “I can do this!” But just as he said that, he grunted and lurched forward. Viscous liquid oozed from his shoes as his legs melted.

But they didn’t form a tail.

They just pooled out uselessly behind him.

“Dad!” Hattie placed a hand on his arm, but it collapsed under her touch. He let out a strangled cry as his whole arm gave away and he slammed against the beach.

He continued to melt despite his groaning and straining. The trembling shadows spilled from his clothes and into the sand. Panic seized Hattie’s chest as she feared she was going to lose him to the beach. Glancing around frantically, her gaze fell onto the bucket, and she lunged for it.

“Hold on!” Hattie called as she dumped the shells out and slid over to her father, who had gone eerily silent as the pooling liquid oozed and spread.

She dropped the bucket into the sand and quickly tried to shove waves of the viscous liquid inside, catching particles of sand with it. Once half of him filled the rusted bucket and kept spilling out, she righted it before scooping up purple globs. She tossed handful after handful of the soupy remains of her father into the bucket. The trembling sludge sputtered and splashed. Tears stung the corners of her eyes when she saw some liquid darkening and fading into intangible shadows that disappeared into the sand, gone for good.

“Stay with me,” she whispered in a cracking voice as she scooped up every last bit that she could.

After wringing purple from his shirt, pants, and the edges of her sleeves which had tumbled into the puddle a few times, Hattie searched for any of her father’s features in the goop squelching against the edges of the bucket.

“Dad?” She lightly prodded the thick surface of the liquid and it shivered. A muffled groan bubbled up, though no golden light from his eyes or mouth followed. Hattie sighed, sitting back in the sand as she convinced herself that the fact that he had groaned meant he was still there. But now just as soup. In a bucket.

They’ve been through worse, right? This, too, should pass?

“Okay, you just sleep while I clean up,” she muttered as she pushed to her feet.

She collected their things and put out the fire, all the while glancing at the bucket as the goop settled. Once she had the plastic bag slung over her shoulder and her birthday gift tucked into her backpack, she slowly picked up the bucket.

“Oof,” she huffed as she heaved the bucket up, wincing when droplets splashed over the side. “Why is magic goop so heavy? That’s stupid,” she grumbled as she slowly made her way across the dark beach and back to their camping area. As she paused multiple times to give her arms a break and catch her breath, she swallowed the rising lump in her throat and pushed onward.

Luka groaned and on top of the usual reverb that came with his noodle body it sounded oddly like the gurgle of a garbage disposal choking on water. He blinked tired eyes and the golden glow rebounded against the daffodil-yellow inside of Hattie’s baseball cap.

Oh. Had he shrunk down and dozed while Hattie was shopping? That didn’t seem right. Actually, what had he been doing before this?

A surge of panic bubbled up as he recalled trying to hold onto his humanity at the beach. He remembered the tighter he held the form, the more it slipped through his clenched fingers. He heard a slosh of thick liquid when he tried to lift his hand.

He couldn’t lift his hand.

He couldn’t even turn his head! His eyes darted around frantically, catching the rim of some sort of curving, metal wall in the corners of his vision but he could only really look straight up at Hattie’s cap.

“K-ki—” he sputtered as some sort of gunk trickled into his mouth. Expelling wet coughs only caused more of the viscous goop to slip in. His anxious attempts to move coupled with his hyperventilating only increased the panicked sloshing that sounded like puddles disrupted by pricks of rain.

“Dad?” Hattie’s sleepy voice responded.

“H-help I’m—” he gagged on a particularly large glob.

“Hold on!”

He tried to spit out the gunk and a heavy droplet plunked against him. He shivered from the sensation but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what was going on. Relief swelled when the cap was removed and Hattie looked down at him, with sunlight filtering through the trees. Squinting at the sudden light, he tried to squirm around.

While not happy, she at least looked safe and sound. She wore his delivery cap, and he could see the dangling strings of his hoodie. If the sunlight was any indication, he must have slept through the night. He grimaced, hoping she hadn’t been too uncomfortable or cold without his coil to protect her from the elements.

“What’s going on?” he forced out, feeling like he was talking through a wad of bubblegum.

Hattie sat back, making it harder for him to see her at his angle. He twisted to try to get closer.

“You’re in a bucket,” she answered tiredly. When she glanced up and realized she was wearing his delivery cap, she jolted and swiftly took it off.

“A bucket?” he echoed in distress. His eyes shifted around as he glimpsed the walls and the occasional splash of purple-black goop if he moved too quickly. He blinked.

“Oh my god, I melted.”

“Yeah,” Hattie sighed as she rubbed her eyes with the baggy, purple sleeve. “Are you okay?”

“Um.”

No.

“I’ve been better.” He winced, realizing all the gunk that was getting caught in his mouth was himself. Fantastic.

“Do you need anything?” she prompted with hesitation as she glanced around. “Like water or something?”

“I need to get out of this bucket!” He pushed his eye against the rim, and he felt himself ripple. “Here, dump me out! I can try to—” he coughed, “—pull myself back together.”

“I lost so much of you on the beach though,” Hattie objected. “And y-you just disappeared, like the goopy stuff turned all shadowy.”

He caught the crack in her voice, and frowned, both from hearing how part of him just up and evaporated—okay, a lot of him if what was left of his monstrous noodle form could fit inside a tiny bucket—and from how much he had frightened her.

“I can’t stay like this, though,” he argued. “I have work! And you can’t stay in the woods on your own!” He shifted around, trying to figure out how to stretch his neck or anything but his neck and everything was gone! First, he lost his body and now he lost his monster body? This wasn’t fair! He couldn’t live like this!

In his frustration, he tried to will himself to have arms or hands or even his tail would work. The goop bubbled and frothed, and he grunted from the strain, but he could do it! He could pull himself together!

“Stop!” Hattie commanded. He yelped as he felt small hands jut into the goop and scoop up his features.

He felt himself spread out and winced as strands dripped back down into the bucket with heavy plops. It was like the world and his body were spinning around him, disconnected and far from his grasp as his head remained stagnant but stuck. After blinking and spotting Hattie’s thumb acting as a barrier as trickles of him slipped through the cracks of her fingers, he grounded himself in her frustrated blue gaze.

“If you keep hurting yourself, you’ll just make it worse!” Her nose scrunched up into a hard scowl, but he heard the lump in her throat underneath her irate bite. “Just stop!”

“Sorry,” he gurgled quietly. Her brows furrowed even more, and he added as gently as he could, “I’ll rest, kiddo. I’ll take it easy.”

“Promise?” She stared him down.

“Promise,” he breathed out, slumping.

She lowered him back into the bucket and a soft bloop sound was followed by flickers of drops as she pulled her hands out. He hummed to relieve some distress as he tried to force himself to relax.

“Maybe you just need sleep,” Hattie offered. She grumbled a bit, but he could tell she was trying to soften her tone.

“That’s usually all it is,” he agreed.

He did feel a similar exhaustion to all the times he pushed his time limit and got stuck in noodle form. Only this was much worse. Even when he was a human, he wasn’t sure he could ever remember a time he was so tired that he couldn’t move his muscles.

Leaning his eyes against the rim of the bucket for some semblance of security, he desperately hoped he wouldn’t be stuck like this. But even if he did eventually turn back to monster-normal, he had a sneaking suspicion he really screwed over his already sparse shapeshifting time.

“Do you want me to put the hat back over?” Hattie lifted her cap into his view. “To help you sleep?”

“No,” he said a little quickly. She lowered the hat and he added, sheepishly, “I know I can’t see much from here, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Okay. Go to sleep. Let me know if you need anything.” She scooted over to their campfire, and he heard the click of the lighter.

He sighed but tried to let the distant crackle of flame and the low tap of Hattie sketching on paper lull him into a semi-relaxed state. His eyes closed into tiny slits and as he dozed, a gentle and continuous rumble bubbled up from within.

“Dad?” Hattie whispered after a stretch of time, scooting back into view and looking down with her hair slipping from behind her ear.

“Hmm?” His eyes cracked open, slowly registering the rumbling sound. In his peripheral vision, the surface of the ebony-violet goop rippled steadily.

Hattie cracked a grin.

“You’re purring!” she said in slight disbelief before exploding into giggles.

“I’m—?” he began before he recognized the familiar and involuntary purr. A dusting of faint gold emanated from beneath the surface of the goop as he blushed.

“The whole bucket is shaking!” Hattie covered her mouth as her laugh trickled out in mirthful chimes.

Despite himself, Luka smiled, glad to hear her laugh.

“I guess it looks pretty silly,” he admitted, imagining the bucket wiggling around. Though now that he was becoming more alert, the rumbling slowed to a stop. In their absence, he realized how comforting the vibrations had been.

Hmm. Maybe the purring was a way to pull himself back together? It wasn’t something he could force or speed up, though. Typical.

“Do you want any food?” Hattie perked after she calmed down from laughing. “I was roasting some hot dogs.”

“I’ll try a bite,” his eyes and mouth shifted up and down in an affirmative nod that sent tiny waves splashing against the side of the bucket.

He couldn’t really tell if he was hungry, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to eat but he would do anything that would help him replenish some energy.

When Hattie returned with a torn piece of a hot dog, Luka opened his mouth and let out a gurgling, “ah.”

With a giggle, she gently lowered the hot dog as close as she could before dropping it. He felt the hot dog plop down and coughed. Hattie winced in apology as he closed his mouth and pensively chewed.

“I’m fine,” he said after a thick swallow. He couldn’t feel the lump of the hot dog anymore but in the past few years of dealing with his magic, goopy body, he learned to not ask questions he couldn’t answer and near the top of that list was wondering what the heck replaced his melted digestive track.

Hattie fed him a few more pieces and he swallowed the dismay of not being able to feed himself. Even though he had grown accustomed to relying on Hattie for help when his chameleon paws couldn’t work with delicate silverware, the familiar sorrow from the early days returned now that he didn’t even have hands.

After what he was certain was a late lunch, he napped on and off as Hattie remained nearby. When he would check in with her, she would present her latest sketches proudly, and even had one completed work in watercolor. It was a scene of the ocean, and while her sketchbook paper wasn’t meant to hold so much moisture, causing it to crinkle and warp when it dried, she excitedly explained that she was going to do other paintings exactly like it, but all showcasing the ocean at different times of the day. He told her that he was eager to see them, overjoyed that she was having fun with her gift like he had hoped she would.

If only he had been able to save up enough for a motel in time for her birthday, or at the very least, if only he hadn’t melted on her. But that was really his fault for pushing himself so hard.

He had just so badly wanted to make it special. She hadn’t even remembered her own birthday! What else was he supposed to do? Let himself turn into a monster? She deserved to have her actual dad on her birthday.

“Hey, Dad?” Her voice drew him out of his sinking despair.

“What��s up, kiddo?” he shifted his eyes in the bucket, trying to find a position that best allowed him to see her.

“What should I tell your boss?” She held out his phone, which was lit up with messages with letters in all caps.

Luka groaned.

“Can you read the messages for me?” He mentally prepared for the nerve-wracking ordeal of trying to explain himself without admitting to his boss that the reason he couldn’t make it to work was because he turned into a bucket of silly putty.

With Luka directing her, Hattie responded to the understandably angry but maybe harsher than necessary texts from his boss at the restaurant. Once that was done, he let out a heavy sigh, accidentally blowing a bubble in the goop, which shortly popped and splattered. He flinched when a drop landed in his eye.

“Do I have anything from the newspaper office?” Luka asked, dreading the thought of not only the manager getting upset when he found out no one had delivered newspapers in the morning, but of all the people who would no doubt call to complain about empty doorsteps.

“No,” Hattie replied slowly.

“Really?” Luka wasn’t sure if he should count that as good or bad. Either way, he was probably out of a job. “I’ll need to start looking for something else.”

“Why?” Hattie scooted closer, hugging her knees to her chest as she looked down at him.

“They’ve probably already decided to fire me,” he lamented with his mouth sinking and gurgling in the gunk.

“Nah.” She glanced away, tapping around on his phone.

He blinked up at her.

“Nah?” he repeated. When Hattie kept her gaze down and her lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowed. “Hattie? What did you do?”

“I maybe did your deliveries for you?” she offered guiltily.

He stared at her.

“You what?” he sputtered, causing his sludge to ripple as panic seized him. “By yourself? Hattie! You just turned eight! My route is a couple miles long, and you would have had to bike before dawn! There are child labor laws! What do you mean you did my deliveries?”

“I had help!” Hattie hurried to explain. “I ran into a nice tourist I met yesterday, and he gave me a map and delivered half of the newspapers for me.”

“You worked with a stranger?” Luka demanded, shifting around in the bucket. “Harriet Princeton, you are not supposed to talk to strangers!”

“So, I’m only supposed to talk to you?” She threw her hands up in the air.

“No! I mean—that’s not the point!” he faltered, sloshing around as the bite in her words stung. Bits of goop splattered over the rim and Hattie jolted.

“Stop freaking out!” She helplessly tried to grasp at the stray droplets. “I can’t lose you again!”

He paused, tensing. Well, tensing as much as he could as a viscous liquid.

“Wh-what do you mean lose me again?” he pressed tightly.

“I thought you were gone when you melted,” she said with a cracking voice. She hugged her legs and rest her chin on her knees. “I thought I didn’t get all of you in time and you were gone, and I just wanted to help because you’re so tired all time but—” she trailed off in a squeak as tears filled her eyes.

“Hattie—” he shifted towards her, but the goop sputtered as he instinctively tried to reach out to his daughter. Liquid stung his eyes and he blinked rapidly. “Hattie, look at me please.”

She turned and revealed tears streaming down her cheeks.

Gold blurred his vision, but he pressed on.

“I’m sorry,” he began in a congested voice, thick with gunk and reverb. “I know you were just trying to help, and I appreciate it! But I don’t want you worrying about my jobs or money. You shouldn’t have to.”

His voice cracked and all too late, he realized that the reason he sounded so congested was partly because of the golden tears filling the bucket. They glittered in the goop, separated like oil drops in water. His breath hitched and the goop swelled.

“But I can—” he tried to continue as the tears slipped out and the goop splashed up when he instinctively tried to wipe them away with a hand that wasn’t there.

“You’re spilling!” Hattie interrupted, jolting upward and hurrying over, placing her arms around the rim but the added tears were causing his anxious sloshing to spill over. “Stop crying!”

“What?” He jolted, shifting his eyes around and catching glimpses of purple and gold staining her sleeves. Her dismayed features above him only encouraged his tears and he made a muffled sniffling noise as panic surged and his tears swelled.

“Dad!” she yelped. But her own distraught features cleaved through his squishy, melted chest.

“I-I can’t! Give me a moment!” Twisting away, he tried to lock his eyes on something to ground himself, but in his panic, he kept attempting to turn and wipe his tears. The spilling goop sloshed uncontrollably.

“Try to laugh!” Hattie begged. “Tell me a stupid joke!”

“Ah, uh.” He pressed his lips into a tight line as he struggled to think of something. “Um. You know what? This situation really pails in comparison to—uh—that one time we teleported into that bear den!”

“What?” Hattie furrowed her brows. But it looked like her tears halted in confusion.

“P-pails, like a pun? It’s a joke. It’s supposed to be funny. Please laugh,” he said weakly. He blinked and let out a tight exhale as he felt himself calm and the rest of the goop start to settle.

“That’s a stupid joke.” Hattie sniffled as she leaned back and slowly lifted her arms, revealing sleeves soaked with purple sludge.

“I got buckets of them.” He added a sardonic, “ha,” as the gold ebbed. While a few dancing droplets of tears wiggled in his goop, now that he was calmer, trembling splashes no longer spilled over the rim.

Hattie wrung out the sleeves. He flinched at the droplets that pelted his face and sent ripples along the surface.

“That’s even worse,” she sighed, though a small smile found its way onto her features. She tugged up one of her sleeves and gingerly reached over and wiped at the edge of his eye.

He grunted, squeezing it shut but when she pulled away, he watched her flick a golden droplet towards the grass. He sighed, blowing a few bubbles.

“Please don’t do my job tomorrow,” he said quietly. “We’ll be okay.”

She nodded slowly before thinking better of it.

“Only if you promise not to push yourself, okay?”

“Okay,” he said tiredly before he yawned. Sludge dribbled into his mouth, and he sputtered.

“Sleep.” She poked the goop. He shifted his eyes next to her finger, which was the closest he could come to giving her an encouraging nuzzle.

“What about you?” he asked, staring up at the canopy of leaves. There was still sunlight trickling down, but it seemed fainter.

“I can eat soon,” she shrugged.

“Wake me if you need anything,” he muttered, feeling his eyelids grow heavy.

Did he even have eyelids at this point? Maybe it was more that his eyes were sinking. Might be more apt.

Hattie promised to, but he had a feeling they both knew she would deal with any problem on her own before waking him. Frowning, he supposed the best thing he could do for her would be to recover as swiftly as possible.

He settled into the bucket, and soon enough, the sludge began to ripple as he automatically purred. He caught Hattie’s stifled snort at the vibrating bucket before he fell asleep.

Night blanketed the forest by the time he woke up again. Still purring, he blinked as he felt something shift. The rippling rumbles of goop seemed to be tightening and when he moved to lift his head, he peeked over the rim of the bucket. Relief swelled inside as he spotted Hattie’s back. She was drawing by the fire, safe and sound.

Edging backward, he tilted his head down, blinking at the vibrating goop as it slowly re-solidified into shape. After a moment, he lifted his noodle arms and wiggled his chameleon paws. Funny, he was actually relieved to see them for once. Once his tail formed, he heaved out a sigh. There wasn’t a drop of him left behind in the bucket, but now he took up less volume.

“Kiddo,” he called softly, floating up to the rim of the bucket and placing his hands on the edge, curling his tail beneath himself.

“Dad!” Hattie gasped when she saw his familiar form. Scrambling around, she darted over, and he flew up into her embrace.

“You’re tiny,” she muttered into the plush fluff around his neck. His tail waved back and forth as he returned her firm hug.

“I’m sure I’ll get back to normal size,” he guessed. Probably. After a long enough rest without using his shapeshifting.

Moments passed until he caught a low grumble coming from Hattie’s stomach. He craned his neck with a smirk.

“In the meantime, are there anymore marshmallows to share?”

“I ate them all. Remember our math quiz? Zero left.” Hattie said without missing a beat as she turned back around and brought him to the fireside. “Just kidding, I saved you some.”

“That’s my girl!” His tail waved harder as he chuckled.

He extended an arm towards the bag, noting that he couldn’t really stretch it like usual, and made a grasping motion. Hattie plopped the bag into her lap, still using an arm to hug him, and they both took turns popping the confections into their mouths.

Yes, after a week’s worth of rest, he would grow to his usual massive size and when he could shapeshift again, he would have to deal with the consequences of missing so much work. But until then, he and Hattie would take it day by day and one marshmallow at a time.

#ahit coffee shop au #doodledrawsthings #ahit prince #ahit hat kid #my writing #*kickflips into ur tumblr experience wearing rubber fishing suspenders and a cap that says 'words want me. ghost dads fear me'*#Me: Bucket's haunted #You probably: What?#Me not breaking eye contact as i grab a pail and head for the exit: Bucket's haunted #this got very long whoops #but i hope its a fun read!#thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

261 notes · View notes