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ofnifflersandkings · 4 years

Text

Endgame Strategy

Character: Benny Watts

A/n: I said I’d write for the hot chess people so I did. The timeline for this is kinda confusing but the desperation I had to write this made me simply not care.

•

“(Y/n)!”

A familiar voice pulled you from your current task of getting Benny’s two ton apartment door shut. You barely got yourself inside before a pair of arms promptly wrapped around you.

You staggered backwards by the sudden weight, a noise between a wheeze and a laugh escaping you as you registered who it was.

“If it isn’t my favorite drama queen!” You pulled back to get a good luck at Beth, a big grin busting out on both of your faces.

“Come in,” She ushered you in, helping you take off your coat and asking you little questions as she lead you over to the sink.

You were a pretty established photographer for some big fashion companies, so you had been traveling with Cleo around Europe for the better half of a year. You’d telephoned Benny as soon as all of your campaigns wrapped up and he instantly insisted you come to New York to make up for lost time.

You had just started to get a word in when you felt someone come up behind you and squeeze you abruptly, practically toppling you over. “Look what the cat dragged in!”

You looked over to see Benny already looking down at you with a grin before promptly ruffling up your hair. “Hey stranger,” He grinned. You pushed him off and turned to give him a proper hug.

You noticed Arthur and Hilton lingering behind him and you pulled yourself from his hold to greet them as well.

“You came at the perfect time,” Benny said, slinging an arm over your shoulder. “We were just about to start.”

“What do you say, (Y/n)?” Hilton asked. “Finally gonna indulge us and play a game?”

You shoved his hands off of you and sent him a smile. “You don’t need some newbie slowing down your thunder,” You noticed Benny giving you the pleading look he always sent your way when you turned down playing chess. You swear you thought he knew how to deflate his eyes on purpose so he looked like a kicked puppy. “No, I don’t need your patronizing when I barely make it past five moves.”

Benny was an old childhood friend of yours, so you had known Arthur and Hilton for almost as long as he had. And they made it their personal life mission to rope into playing against one of them. But you were renowned for your patience and they’d yet to wear you down.

Beth sent a small pout your way and handed you a glass of water. “Oh please, now who’s the drama queen. You were doing great when I was teaching you last time we saw each other.”

Benny’s gaze shot up. “What?”

You scoffed at her, completely forget about your last encounter. “Now that’s not fair, we were hardly playing. You had to show me where to move every five minutes.”

“When did you see each other?” Benny pushed.

You sighed, smoothing down your sweater. “When I was in Paris with Cleo, we only saw each other the one night and I was just bored and tipsy enough to let her show me.”

She grinned at you, shoving her arm into you as she leant into your side. “I think you have lots of potential. I could make a grandmaster out of you, I know it.”

Benny’s eyes followed you as you moved from your standing position to sit next to him on the sofa.

“You never let me teach you how to play,” He murmured to you with a huff, causing a small tuft of his hair to fly upwards.

Benny had made several attempts to get you into the game he loved so dearly. And as one of the few constant people in his life he wanted you to be part of his world. But each time was met with a firm refusal on your part, insisting you wouldn’t get it. He’d try to pull every trick in the book, every charming smile and all the pretty words he knew to try and convince you to let him show you, but you were always indifferent to his charisma.

It annoyed the shit out of him.

Truth was you didn’t want to risk embarrassing yourself in front of him. You’d seen him play at almost every match he was ever in and it was almost scary how good he was. You could play a casual game and maybe boast a win or two, but playing against him wasn’t something you think you’ll ever do. Besides, give him the satisfaction of having your inevitable defeat over your head? Not in this lifetime.

You let out a light laugh, smiling at Beth as she moved to grab the other boards from Benny’s alarming collection he kept stuffed in the closet. “You’re too intimidating when you play, I’d be distracted.”

Benny rolled his eyes, thinking of the stern look that permanently sets on Beth’s face. The woman who looks like she’s three seconds away from going for your neck during her games but he was too intimidating.

You took a sip from your glass of water and lightly knocking over one of the knight pieces on the board in front of you. “I don’t see why it matters, I’ll be beat regardless of who’s playing.”

He frowned, he’d always wanted to play you. Not because he cared about winning but he just wanted you to see his skill firsthand. You didn’t bat an eyelash at winnings anymore, and you never stuck around for his in-depth lectures about game theory with the other players. But he also knew you liked knowing the way things worked. And since chess was his bailiwick, Beth being the only other American player who could beat him, he knew you’d be impressed. At first he just thought you weren’t interested, so knowing you were being taught by someone else stung twice-over.

You knew something was wrong when he didn’t send a clever remark back your way. Benny liked to think he was this cool and collected character, but really he could be quite the prima donna. Knowing him for as long as you did made him an open book, you could almost always know what he was thinking.

“Don’t be such a baby, Bens.” You grinned, leaning over to tap the end of his nose, something you always did to irritate him. “She crushed me anyways.”

“You’d win if you let me teach you.” He argued, looking at you pointedly.

“I don’t need to win, that’s your job,” You leaned into him, trying to stroke his ego to get him to drop the subject.

Benny’s ears perked up and he was about to go into of his grand self-assured lectures when Beth interrupted him, promptly placing the boxes of chess boards on the table in front of him.

“I dunno, (Y/n),” Beth gloated, passing a box to Hilton. “I think he’s losing his touch, last time we played I damn near emptied his wallet.”

That got your attention, and you sat up with a laugh. “You’re kidding? In speed chess?” Your cackles only grew when she gave a proud nod. “I can’t believe I missed it!”

Benny scoffed, pushing away from you to help set up the boards. “You hardly missed anything-“

“She kicked his ass, ,” Arthur chuckled, loosening the cap on his beer bottle. “Said she’d kick him the crotch too when he tried to argue with her.”

You raised your glass to Beth in commencement. “I knew there was a reason I liked you so much.”

“Another simultaneous?” Beth asked, noticing they were moving the boards onto the floor, she turned back to you. “Have you ever seen once of these?”

You shook your head dramatically, moving from your place on the sofa to the floor so you could sit right next to the action. “Nope! I mean I know what they are, but I’ve never actually seen one.”

She smirked, placing the clock at every board while the boys situated the pieces. “Well, you’re in for a treat, these are my specialty.”

You leaned forward, placing your elbows on your knees so could you watch every move. The speed of the game was something you had long gotten used to, but it never was any less impressive. You don’t know how anyone’s brain could go that fast, but watching the pieces fly around the board completely fascinated you.

Beth really was everything the chess magazines said she was and maybe even more amazing in person. You found it hard to pull your gaze away from her hand, watching as she completely tore through the three boys pieces. Hilton and Arthur were the first to lose, knocking over there kings.

You got ready to settle in while she took on Benny, but not even a few moments later you watched him grimace and reluctantly fish his wallet from his pockets.

“Wow,” You breathed out, looking over at Beth with a gaze that could only be described as positively starstruck. “I mean I knew you were good, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like that.”

Beth felt her face get a little warm, not used to such straight-forward praise. At least not since she was a child prodigy. She reached her hand up to brush her hair out of her eyes, and pulled her gaze away from you.

“I can do it again.”

Benny felt his eyebrow twitch, he was used to your praise being directed at him for the most part. You had grown up with him constantly talking about and challenging others to play chess. And when he started to make a name for himself he’d taken you along with him. Before your work took off, you had more time to see his games in person. But, even when you couldn’t physically be there, you always called when you saw the results in Chess Review or tuned in to one of the broadcasted matches.

He was the best in the States for a long time, so you had become especially hard to impress. He knew Beth was better him than by miles, but to finally have his title of best chess player you knew taken away made him feel scratchy.

But he scoffed, straightening his back to try and get his focus back. “Not if I have anything to say about it, Harmon.”

And so for about three more games, she absolutely crushed the three boys. You got closer to the boards each time, admiring Beth’s superhuman skill. It made you feel a little sting of pride, the girl was showing up three of most arrogant and skilled players you knew.

“God,” You leaned back onto your elbows, sniffling a giggle when. “I would’ve given any amount of money to be here to see the faces on these boys when you did this the first time.”

Beth smirked, rounding up the pieces to put them away in their cases. “Me too, we could’ve gotten it all on camera.”

You groaned. “Such a missed opportunity.”

You lolled your head over and saw Benny staring intently at the board, a deep frown on his face. You smiled, scooting over so you could lean all your weight against him. “Don’t look so sad, Bens. I’m sure you would’ve gotten her eventually.”

He laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s what you used to tell all the sorry losers I used to beat.”

You closed your eyes, settling into his side and sighing at his warmth. “You’re not a sorry loser. You’re the best chess player I know.”

“Still?”

“Hey now, I didn’t drag my ass to every one of your matches for decades for you to question my loyalty,” You teased, you opened your eyes and saw something on his wall. Nestled snug inside a frame was the first time he was on the cover of Chess Review.

“You remember when I took that?” You nodded towards it.

Benny smiled properly, his eyes getting a familiar shimmer. “Yes ma’am, I told them I wouldn’t be on the cover unless you got to take my photos,” He wrapped an arm around you. “Course if I had known it’d make you a hot shot photographer who had to go away all the time I might’ve kept my mouth shut.”

You smiled, reaching up to flick his forehead. “I’ve taken all your photos for decades” You made a sweeping notion with your hands to all the various magazines scattered around his apartment. “Even when we were kids, I think I earned my little adventures abroad”

Benny gave you a look, one you couldn’t quite place, but he kept your gaze for awhile. A small smile snuck up in the corner of his mouth before he looked down, strawberry blonde strands hiding him from your view.

“Well don’t stay away so long next time, yeah? I missed you.”

#the way this has bi disaster just written all over it #benny watts imagine #benny watts x reader #benny watts imagines #the queen’s gambit #the queen’s gambit imagine #queen’s gambit imagine

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mashiraostail · 4 years

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How about Aizawa, Present Mic, Toshinori and Midnight with an S/O who's a super light sleeper due to anxiety and they get freaked out by sudden loud noises that wake them up and one night they hear something so S/O wakes them up to shyly ask if they'll do a sweep of the house with them to help them feel safe enough to go back to sleep?

me walking around my tiny ass apartment w my huge ass dog as if either of us r gonna do something if we happen upon an intruder

Aizawa Shouta: You were probably just hearing things. Shouta wasn’t an unusually deep sleeper, you were sure if it was a concerning noise he’d wake up too, you were just a freakishly light sleeper. You told yourself that over and over to calm yourself down. Seriously wind outside wakes you up, Shouta snuffling into the pillow beside you has woken you up before, your neighbor closing their door too loud upstairs has woken you up. Whatever startled you just had to be one of those things, or something similar. So go back to sleep. You think that but you just stare at the slightly ajar door of your bedroom..what if someone...or something was out there? You should get up and check, right? You hear another creek. Nope. No way. Not alone. You’ve seen what happens in the movies, and besides this is what dating a pro hero is for, he can do it. You look over to the man sleeping beside you, he was on his back, one arm still partially outstretched to accommodate you where you’d been laying against his side, the other behind his head. His chest was rising and falling with long sleepy breaths, the low bun he’d pulled his hair into tufted up behind him on the pillow. Gee. You felt sort of bad waking him up when he looked so comfortable. But also there could totally be a killer in the kitchen, or worse. Something way worse could be in the kitchen. You watch his nose twitch. But he looked so sleepy, even now he had bags under his eyes. Another creak. “Shouta.” You hiss, you don’t know why your whispering, you live here. He just snuffles under his breath, but doesn’t seem to wake up. “Sho..” You plant a hand firmly on his chest and shake him a little, his skin was warm on your already clammy palms. “Huh?” It’s gruff, a little irritated, and tired, he drags the hand that was once behind his head down his face, “’d you call me?” He isn’t sure why he asks, the way you’re sitting up beside him and your hand on his chest tells him what he needs to know. “Sorry.” You murmur, “’m really sorry to wake you up but I think I heard something..and I can’t go back to sleep, come check with me?” Sure he’s tired but that’s kinda sweet...he can’t help the fact he enjoys being asked for help, it’s his job after all as a teacher and a pro, he’s glad you lean on him. It’s nice to feel needed, and it’s nice to know he puts you at ease. He hums indifferently as he sits up, “mmhm.” He nods, rubbing his eyes, “yeah, alright. Where’d you hear it?” “The kitchen I think?” He grumbles, “okay come on.” He gets up and stretches a little, “stay behind me alright, scardey cat?” He checks everywhere, even the closet you hadn’t opened since you moved into the place. “Nothing’s here.” You’re back at your bedroom door where you started, “just us.” He presses a long kiss to your temple, “think you can get to sleep now?” “Yeah, thanks..” You follow him back to bed and he shuffles underneath the covers again. “any time. Wake me up again if you need me.”

Hizashi Yamada: You’re pretty sure the couple above you had dogs, more than a few and they were all big. You were sure that’s what the clacking was, just cute little dog paws on polished wood floors. That’s all it was. But it still sounded damn creepy in the middle of the night. Hizashi was a deep sleeper, maybe a little unnaturally deep, that guy could sleep through a lot of noise, seeing as he made so much himself he was probably used to it. But he was a pro, after all, if something was strange he’d probably notice it too...it wasn’t anything you’re just paranoid for some reason. You scold yourself as you shuffle back into your pillows, there’s nothing to be afraid of so just go to sleep. The dark of the hallway beyond your bedroom door is taunting you though, anything could be in there. You should just check- was that a shape in the darkness? No way. Nevermind screw checking you’d just die here, whatever- You look over and realize Hizashi is with you, laying on his side, facing you one arm under a pillow the other reaching out to drape itself across your stomach, his hair was mostly freed from the elastic he’d used to pull it back earlier in the night. No... You furrow your eyebrows at him, he looked so cozy. You couldn’t wake him up for nothing...unless it wasn’t nothing...but..his hand closes around your waist and you’re heart swells a little, it could totally be nothing... You swear you see something move. “Zash-” You murmur at him, to no avail. “Zashi-” You grip his arms, “hey Zash..” “After hours.” He mutters pressing into the pillow. “Zash please-” You push against the bare skin of his back with your palm, shaking his whole body. “Wuh-wussit?” He picks his head up off the pillow, just barely, “somethin wrong?” His arm lifts off your stomach as he rubs his eyes, “what’s up?” “I think I heard something, can you come check?” Yeah okay, his heart swells a little bit with pride. Maybe a lot. He sits up quickly, “of course baby! Where do you think it’s coming from?” “I think the front hall? I dunno..” You confess, “but I just..I can’t sleep now and-” “Say no more.” He holds his hand up, “you stay here and I’ll check it out-” “Would you mind..if I just come? You know..incase?” You stop him, the last thing you wanted was to be alone in this dark room all alone. “Of course you can come!” He feels a little bad that you’re scared but his heart is absolutely singing right now, he thinks its the sweetest thing in the world. You were scared and he made you feel better? Come on that’s heaven. “Wanna hold my hand?” He offers it to you as you regroup at the foot of your bed. “Looks like it was just a neighbor or something.” He hums as you return to the foot of your bed, “nothing looked out of place to me.” He doesn’t make you let go of his hand, “feel any better?” “Mhm..” You nod and he grins at you, leaning down to kiss your temple. “Let’s just get back under the covers, not like anything can hurt us under there anyway, we’ve made it this far with that method, right?”

Yagi Toshinori: He was on the lighter side when it came to sleepers, though he was average usually, sometimes if you were a little too restless beside him he’d stir up, if this noise was really suspect he’d wake up. But he was sleeping like a baby beside you. He said it so often, as long as he wasn’t worried you didn’t need to be. He didn’t look even a little worried right now. But...the clattering..it sounded like something was rummaging around where it didn’t belong...plus it’s not like Toshi was a nobody, retired or no he was still the symbol of peace, he still had a target on his back, he probably always would. So you should check, for his sake and- the rattling makes your heart stop. The symbol of peace can do it. “Yagi-” You turn to him, about to reach over and shake him up but..oh..no. He looks so content and sleepy on his back, both arms still stretched out to be holding onto you, though one was trapped across his abdomen as you’d sat up and it fell away. His face was relaxed and he was snoring quietly. But the noise. He snuffled, nose wrinkling and twitching as he settled further into the pillow. But sweet cozy Yagi...the next clatter was enough to make you jump. “Toshi hey-” You reach out and press a hand to his chest, “Tosh?” “Mhm?” He mumbles and shuffles closer to you. “I heard something...” You murmur and his eyes crack open. “heard something?” His other hand slides down you back and you nod, “it freaked me out.” You flatten your palms against his chest and look up at him, “can you check..?” He can’t say he’s not a little honored that you still fell protected by him even without All Might in the picture, you still wanted him to go sweep the place for anything out of the ordinary, he appreciates it more than he’ll say. Even though he’s retired, he’s still simple, once a hero always a hero, he can’t help but just want to protect. “Oh?” He sits up, “yeah I can do that.” He musses up his hair, “where’d you hear it?” “I’ll show you?” You follow him and he nods, outstretching an arm and welcoming you into his side, “alright, just stay by me okay?” You nod up at him as he pushes your bedroom door open. He looks through the whole place, every cabinet and closet, around every corner, keeping one arm around your shoulders, huddling you into his side. “Looks like it was just a bad dream or something.” He reassures you, back in your bedroom, “did I miss anything?” He takes your head in his hands and presses a long kiss to your hairline, you shake your head, “No, I don’t think so. Sorry to wake you up..” “If you’re afraid and I can make you feel better I want you to wake me up.” He hums, smiling at the feeling of your hands coming around his wrists, he can see your eyelids drooping “you seem exhausted now, if you’re feeling better let’s get into bed.”

Nemuri Kayama: Oh no. No way. You are not the one. Whatever was having a field day in your living room would just have to call it a night. No. You scold yourself, nothing was in the living room, it was the heater clanking on, your neighbors stomping around in heels, maybe a stray cat trying to get in a window or something. No one was in here but you and Nemuri, like every night, like normal. Nemuri was a light enough sleeper, you’d woken her up easily before by mistake so if this was really something to worry about she’d be up too, you were sure of it. Unless maybe she had a long day and was really just super deeply asleep..then what?? What if it was something malicious and she was too tired to wake up for it and you talk yourself down too much and then neither of you suspect anything? You should check- a low whirring makes you reconsider. You look up at Nemuri, you were still laid against her, huddled into her side, both of her arms were around you, one hand half curled around the nape of her neck, her nails had been lightly scratching circles into your skin before she dozed off. Her cheek was pressed up against you, she looked to comfortable to bother but..that low whirring was back, what if it was some evil vacuum or something? She’d know what to do about an evil vacuum. She turns into you a bit and takes in a deep sleepy breath, it makes your chest prattle with affection. The whirring has banging now, there is now both banging and whirring, high alert. It makes you sit up. “Hey Nemuri-” You look down at her and she groans. “Muri-” You shake her a little and she groans again, louder. “What’s wrong?” She doesn’t open her eyes. “I need help.” “Oh?” She peeks an eye open, “with what?” “I heard a noise outside. I’m freaked out.” “Oh.” She opens both her eyes fully, “that’s kind of adorable.” “I’m glad one of us is enjoying this. I’ve got a seriously bad feeling.” You grumble and she laughs. “Alright well wait here and your big bad girlfriend will scare all the villains away-” “Leave me here ALONE for them to kidnap?” You spring up as she stands, “no way you’re getting rid of me that easy, I’m coming with you.” She snorts at that, “gosh, you’re right, how could I be so foolish? Come with, me and stay close. I forgot i’ve got precious cargo” She waits for you to catch up and offers you her arm, which you take gratefully, “come on my little jellyfish.” Despite her teasing she’s very thorough as she checks out the place. She’s glad you trust her with your safety so much, she’s glad you came to her before you worked yourself up too much. “I dunno what you heard baby.” She shakes her head as you reconvine by your bed, “but whatever it was, nothing is in here besides us.” She crosses her heart with her free hand, her nail catching the ribbed fabric of her sports bra just a little, she definitely did that on purpose, “just you, me, and all the sexual tension between us-” She wraps two arms around your back and you flutter at the contact. “Sexual tension? Mur, we’re practically married-” “That’s what makes it great.” She hums pulling you even closer. “Nemuri I’m tired-” You complain, bracing yourself against her solid shoulders as she pulls you into her chest, lips pressing a line up your jaw. “You can’t wake me up and be all cute like this and expect me not to react, that’s cruel and unusual. Besides it’ll just help you sleep better in the end.”

#aizawa shouta x reader #hizashi yamada x reader #yagi toshinori x reader #nemuri kayama x reader #midnight x reader #all might x reader #present mic x reader #bnha x reader #bnha requests

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jostepherjoestar · 3 years

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Hewwu Queen!. How would La Squadra react if one day they got attacked by an enemy stand and now their stand became a human. Like their stand is a full on person but still has their usual stand abilities and their freaking out.

What an interesting concept :O

“That is a whole ass person?!” Formaggio screamed as he saw his stand no longer be its robotic looking blue. He was used to his stand being somewhat humanoid looking but now seeing him in flesh and blood, their blue outfit made to look like it’s former armour/skin. Little feet looked a bit... mad? Sad? He didn’t really say much when Formaggio asked him if he was ok. Formaggio’s more than intrigued with his now human looking stand but he’s not sure what to do, maybe give him a hug? He doesn’t know why but he really feels like Little Feet needs a hug, he seems a bit shaken up about the whole ordeal.

Illuso would one hundred percent ask his team to discus who’s better looking: him or his stand? Most of them will immediately reply with Man in the Mirror just to get under his skin. Illuso will fuss over his now human stand, fixing their hair, adjusting their clothes and advising on new stuff to wear. He’s kind of glad that he’s able to be around another person who is basically another part of him. He feels like he has a friend for once. Being the most beautiful member of La Squadra gets tiring, sometimes you need a friend. (those are Illuso’s words not mine)

Prosciutto is a bit taken aback by his stand’s new form, surprised by how beautiful The Grateful Dead is. Bright green eyes with an immaculate purple and white suit. Prosciutto is impressed with their style “Well of course he looks good, he’s my stand for god’s sake.” he huffs when the rest of the squad admires him. Prosciutto feels very protective of his stand, he knows its harnesses a lot of power but still feels like seeing his stand as a human somehow makes it weaker. While trying to defeat the stand user that turned them he’ll stay in front of Grateful Dead while he attacks from a further range.

His stand was a fishing rod. His stand was a fishing rod. His stand was a fishing rod. Please somebody help Pesci. He’s on the ground having a panic attack. How can a fishing rod become a human? It’s a weird thought since said fishing rod can easily kill by Pesci’s command. He can’t even look at the human version of Beach Boy without questioning reality itself. Beach Boy looks kinda shocked as well, just awkwardly standing there staring at the green tufts of hair get buried in Pesci’s arms while rocking back and forth. Pesci needs a minute ok.

Melone is chill about it, he’s more intrigued than anything else. He’ll be testing if Baby Face can talk and mimic his movements, don’t worry he’s tested a lot more stuff on his stand in its usual form. Since Junior is a bit more humanoid looking Melone just studies what he looks like, writing down a very thorough description of the now human stand. As chill as Melone is about the ordeal, it feels a bit conflicting seeing his stand as a human -he’s always creating offspring that manifests as his stand- it’s confronting to see it as an actual human being. Melone will be glad to have his Baby Face back to normal after defeating the attacker.

Ghiaccio is all over White Album, like a cat carefully studying a foreign object. White Album normally manifests more as a suit and an ability rather than a humanoid form so it’s a bit surprising to see a full form. The stand even has a knitted cap on its head with little white cat ears on the sides. Ghiaccio doesn’t express it but he thinks his stand is really adorable even though their human form is an inch taller than him for some reason. He’ll make White Album test out his powers and can’t help but admire his stand as it moves around swiftly on their skates. He can’t help but imagine how cool he must look in action while wearing his stand suit and is glad to have seen it.

Risotto is a little surprised to see his stand gain a human form. Metallica not only became human but there’s multiple ones, or are there? Whenever it moves it’s like there’s a lag behind it showing about 4 more human shapes. It looks a lot like their user, silver/platinum hair, muscular but it seems more timid. A sudden movement even causing it to go invisible and stand before Risotto so he’d also be invisible. His stand seems a bit uneasy with the whole transition but fights back none the less. Risotto can’t help but feel proud of his own stand, feeling empathetic since they just went through a weird change. After everyone is back to normal he’ll appreciate his stand even more.

#cozy ask #risotto x reader #la squadra x reader #prosciutto x reader #jjba x reader #jjba headcanons #la squadra #formaggio x reader #illuso x reader #pesci x reader #melone x reader #ghiaccio x reader #jjba part 5

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mae-gi-writes · 4 years

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The Fine Line | Juyeon (The Boyz Imagine)

Requested! Prince Juyeon! au x Royal Guard! Reader.

In which you’re stuck with the most disorderly prince of Nuine, Juyeon.

To anon: this fic took me so long to write and I am so sorry for being so late. BUT i hope that you like the end result and that I made your idea justice! Please do let me know :) <3 Stay safe and stay healthy <3 xx Thanks so much for requesting!

Genre: fluff, crack-ish? Just all the good stuff.

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"Your Highness ,no."

"Come on Y/N, don't you want to try a teeny tiny piece?"

"I said no."

"Ah come on! It's just a bite!"

"No."

Juyeon finally threw both hands in the air with exaggerated exasperation, "you're really no fun."

"I'm not on duty to have fun, if I might remind you," Y/N snapped, barely keeping hold of her neutral facade when the prince kept acting in such a foolish manner, definitely not like how royalty should behave and yet, the king had stuck her with their youngest son, Juyeon, who knew nothing of royal pride nor did he care about where his family came from.

That wasn't what unnerved her though. What did was the fact that Juyeon thought he was free to do as he pleased, whenever he pleased, and it didn't matter whether he was prince or not. That, in itself, was a motto than did not run smoothly in Y/N's mind.

She was a proud soldier, one that had climbed through the ranks at lightning speed because of her amazing dexterity and talent in wielding weapons as though they were water and she was mother nature.

But she hadn't signed up for this, a.k.a babysitting the most irresponsible royal family member of Nuine.

Except -- she kinda liked him.

And not just as a friend, or a mere man.

She really liked him, and that only fuelled her hatred. Why would she like such an incompetent man in the first place? It must be the hormones! At least, that was what she had come to the conclusion, before realizing that there was much more to this little crush than she thought there was.

Juyeon sat on the ground of the royal garden, legs crossed as he observed her with alert eyes, "do you ever smile?"

Y/N didn't bother answering him. Though she had a huge urge to just roll her eyes.

"I don't get it. You were so happy and nice when we were young," his orbs were calculating, deep with thought as he surveyed her as though she was a book he couldn't quite decipher, "what happened to you?"

"Life happened. Not everyone gets to spend their days doing nothing like you."

The heat of his gaze did nothing to help, and she found strength in her feet to stop herself from squirming.

Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his crossed knees, the prince tilted his head in curiosity, no trace of offence whatsoever on his face despite her harsh reply.

"What?" She barked.

“Did I do something to you?”

“Huh?”

Juyeon tilted his head to the other side, “what did I do for you to be so pissed that you have this permanent grudge against me?”

“I don’t have a grudge,” she huffed.

“Okay so, why then?”

"Just because, Juyeon. Not everything I do needs to have a reason.”

He puffed up his cheeks like a blowfish, “Jeez, you’re really mean Y/N. I just wanted to be friendly, make conversation you know?”

It might have been true that during their childhood, Y/N and Juyeon had been very close, practically attached at the hip even. Because of her father being appointed head of the Royal Guards serving the Majesty of Nuine, Y/N was always around roaming the halls and lifting weapons much too heavy for her spaghetti arms. But her interest had been there since her young age, her passion for fighting and the natural talent that came with weapon wielding a skill that her family had recognized very early on.

So it was no surprise that she got enrolled in the nearest soldier academy despite her mother’s protests, following right into her father’s footsteps and gladly acing all midterm tests with flying colours.

Everything changed one dark night, when her father died.

After that, Y/N had never really been the same. Did she blame the Royal Family for his death? Not really, it was in their job description after all.

But did she resent Juyeon for having lived a sheltered life all his life? Maybe so.

It was selfish of her. Though, it wasn’t like she could control herself.

A few days later found the pair in the middle of Nuine's street food market, with Juyeon craning his neck in curiosity over the multitudes of heads inclined towards a stall in particular.

Y/N tugged on his shirt sleeve, "your majesty, I think we should go."

"Oh but wait, this is the best part," Juyeon insisted without peeling his eyes away from the said cook behind the stall. As if on cue, the cook flipped what seemed to be an omelette pancake in the air.

The crowd gasped as the pancake flipped twice on itself, before landing securely on an already-prepared plate.

"Wow!" People burst into applause almost immediately while the chef bowed and extended the pancake to his most recent order.

"Alright," Y/N was already turning, one hand gripping Juyeon's arm in warning, "we've seen enough--"

She was tugged back instead as the prince moved forward until he reached the front of the stall, a crooked grin dancing across his lips as he peered at the cook from underneath his cloak.

"Can I have an omelette please?" Juyeon asked while ignoring the dagger eyes coming from Y/N's direction.

"Tomatoes? Olives? Onions? Ham?" As the cook listed all his ingredients, Juyeon merely nodded along and Y/N let out a trepid sigh. Her foot started tapping on the ground, impatient.

"Juyeon, you know what your mother said about--"

"Oh it's fine, Y/N. Live a little."

"But--"

"If anything happens -- and it won't," he hurriedly added as she opened her mouth to protest, "then I'll take full responsibility."

"And I will lose my job," she couldn't help but mutter under her breath.

------

And of course, considering Juyeon's luck, something was bound to happen.

It was only mid-afternoon -- a few hours after they had returned to the Kingdom, that the prince doubled over due to a stomach ache, coiling so bad that sweat broke over his forehead and his mouth was a tense, thin line of pain.

"I told you so," Y/N tutted while helping him maneuver his way into the bathroom, head practically buried into her neck as he groaned in pain.

"Y/N really? Right now?" he all but groaned against her.

She was about to find a snarky comeback, only for the prince to lurch himself straight at the toilet bowl. Disgusting noises echoed through the room and Y/N turned away from the scene briefly, her own stomach twisting into tight knots.

Y/N was strong, yes. But have someone throw up in front of her? Even smelling that? No way. She could live without that.

When he was done heaving twice more, now sprawled across the toilet bowl as though it was the only thing keeping him grounded, Y/N crossed her arms over her chest as she judged him with a smug look.

“See, this would never have happened if you had only listened--”

Juyeon held up a hand, silencing her, “not now, please.”

He really did look awful. His usually tan skin was the colour of chalk, fingers holding so tightly over the toilet lid that his knuckles flushed white. As he tried lifting himself from his position, his knees buckled and he would’ve face planted on the ground if not for Y/N’s arms quickly holding him up against her.

Silently, she moved him back to his bedroom before tucking him underneath his covers, all the while avoiding his gaze that seemed to poke through her countenance with an emotion she couldn’t quite explain.

And then, came the tiniest murmur, “sorry.”

Y/N paused for a moment. Her eyes fluttered to his face.

Juyeon gazed back, hooded eyes seemingly genuine to apologize, “I mean it. I’m sorry.”

She quickly swallowed, “it’s fine.”

There was a soft pause in which Juyeon’s heavy breaths filled the air. It was suddenly warm in his room, maybe because the thick curtains were now drawn against the slow-setting sunset off the coast of Nuine’s edge, the light a vibrant golden slithering through the wine-coloured drapes. Feeling suddenly vulnerable and out of place, Y/N stood up from her crouching position at his side, causing the man’s eyes to flutter up at her movement.

“Where are you going?” He asked as she made to move towards the door. When she glanced back, she couldn’t help but notice the confusion on his face as he blinked up at her like an over-sized man child.

“I thought you’d like to rest, your Highness,” she replied stiffly.

Another pause.

Then, in the smallest voice possible, Juyeon mumbled out:

“Could you--stay? With me?”

She blinked, “stay? With--”

And then the words made sense in her head.

“Uh--” her cheeks coloured instantly at the thought of being so close to a man. Or maybe it was because it was Juyeon, or it was the heat! Right! Totally made sense that it was the heat. Her mouth moved before her brain did: “Sure.”

What in the name of Nuine are you doing? Her brain screamed at her the moment she sat herself down on the bed’s edge, Juyeon’s body instantly curling up against hers with his head resting upon her lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Uhm--” Y/N’s brain blanked out at the warmth of Juyeon’s head against her thigh, “what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” as he spoke, his breath washed against her legs and goosebumps suddenly erupted along the skin there. She shifted uneasily, trying to force herself to stay still despite the fact that there was a full grown man lying down on her like a cat in need of affection.

“Can you pet me?”

His question threw her off guard. She blinked down at him, at the way his eyelashes were casting dark shadows over his cheeks, “What?”

“My mom used to pet me whenever I was sick,” he murmured, one of his hands grabbing her own before placing it atop his own tuft of hair, “it used to calm me down, make me go sleep.”

“I’m your guard, Juyeon. Not your personal maid.”

He let out a long sigh, then dropped her hand, “Fine then.”

The silence that followed felt so thick and coated with an awkward kind of tension that she knew, without reading Juyeon’s expression, that he was currently mad at her. Trust him to be a little brat about it. Usually, Y/N wouldn’t even spare him a second glance. That kind of behaviour was one of a five year old child, one that she wasn’t going to tolerate.

But maybe it was the fact that he was being so dependent, maybe it was the closeness of their two physical bodies and the lack of distance between them. In any case, her heart melted slightly when she felt him shift in her lap and before she knew it, her hand had moved on its own to caress down the side of his skull.

The sight that left Juyeon’s mouth was laden with such satisfaction that it sent shivers running up her spine. He proceeded to nuzzle his nose right into her thighs, causing her to yelp slightly.

His head snapped up, “what?”

She recovered quickly though, snapping, “I want to make myself clear, Juyeon. I am not, and will not be, some kind of mistress that you bring to your quarters whenever you feel like it. I’m your Royal Guard.”

“Jesus Y/N,” the prince turned so that he was facing upwards, gaze landing right onto hers without flinching, “Is that the image you have of me? That I take advantage of everything that moves?”

Suddenly embarrassed, she cleared her throat, “That’s not what I said. I just wanted to let you know.”

“I know you’re not.”

“Okay good. Just so that I make myself clear on where I stand.”

“I wish you didn’t though,” his murmur was a low one, but still one that reached her ears and prompted her to ask, “What do you mean by that?”

Her question was only met with stubborn silence, which made sense, as she might see how Juyeon might have taken this as an offensive use of words. But she’d never been one to beat around the bush and had always been passive aggressive whenever Juyeon was concerned.

Once, she thought that she actually liked him.

And maybe she had. But instead of falling straight into that pool of romantic feeling, Y/N had just brushed it aside, already deciding for herself that it was never going to happen and that she shouldn’t keep her hopes up.

That was, in part, why she was used to being so cold and distant.

It was the only way she could protect herself, make the prince hate her.

She was about to let it go and change the subject, when his words pierced through the air like needles, “what is it about me that you can’t stand?”

Her hand froze in mid-stroke, still entangled in his dark locks.

His gaze was so intense she felt him burn holes through her skull.

Y/N cleared her throat. Looked away.

“I--I don’t hate you,” she finally managed to whisper.

“I know you don’t,” Juyeon’s dark eyes were still surveying her every movement, “but can you be honest with me? What is it with me that you can’t stand? It’s almost like--I don’t know. You don’t even look at me when we talk. You barely acknowledge me sometimes, and you never try. With my brothers it’s like--it’s like you’re this completely different person. You talk to them, you laugh. Why don’t we have that? What did I do Y/N?”

“You did nothing.”

“If I did nothing, then why aren’t you looking at me?”

It feels all too real suddenly; the heat radiating from Juyeon’s body, the intense emotion swimming through his dark brown swirls even though she couldn’t muster the courage to actually lock gazes with him, and the weight of his head on her lap as though they were blissfully in love and comfortable in each other’s presence.

Her eyes quickly flitted to the golden descending rays dancing along the curtains, anything to keep her away from his probing stare, “I...”

“What?” Juyeon pressed on, “tell me.”

Pressing her lips into a thin line, she kept quiet.

“Okay,” Juyeon sighed once more. Then without warning, he hoisted himself up before his face suddenly zoomed in on hers, so close that she couldn’t help but fall back against the headboard as he dipped his head down so that it was level with hers.

Her heart speeding up, Y/N tried not to focus on the lack of distance between them. Though that was quite a hard feat, considering he was everywhere she looked.

Sitting there in Juyeon’s bed, with him trapping her from any sort of escape felt as though she was on the brink of a cliff being pressured to jump when she clearly had no intention to. But when she opened her mouth to protest, Juyeon’s eyes snapped up to hers in a way that told her words weren’t going to work, not anytime soon.

She swallowed thickly.

“It wouldn’t have bothered me if it was anyone else,” once he started, it was almost like the flow of words were suddenly too much for him to keep in. He kept on going, voice closing up with emotion, “but it’s you, Y/N. No matter how much I try not to think about it...I do. A lot. And I--I hate it, the way you don’t even seem to acknowledge my existence. I just--I just want to get along with you because I--”

Before she knew what she was doing, one of her hands had shot out to yank his shirt, with him toppling over before she landed a kiss smack on his lips.

Juyeon stared, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights, jaw slack in naked surprise.

“Wh--What was that?” he stuttered, a red blushing mess that she would’ve made fun of, if she hadn’t been trying to stop herself from being just as red as he was.

“Look Juyeon, I might hold some feelings for you,” Y/N said it outright though her cheeks were flaming ablaze with heat, “but I just hated you so much, after my dad died. I--I couldn’t look at you without thinking of his death and I tried really hard to loathe your guts. But then...” she shook her head, bit down onto her bottom lip as she chewed on the words that were about to fall from her mouth, “but then, I just--couldn’t. Hate you, I mean.”

“S-So you--you’re telling me that you-- that you might -- that--” he was gesturing so wildly she thought he might faint from shock. Breathing out softly and pinching the bridge of his nose, he closed his eyes shut for a moment, as if to regain his balance. Then, he opened them once more, “you like me. But you hate me.”

“Tried to,” she corrected him.

“That--That doesn’t make any sense, Y/N.”

“Yes it does! I liked you, then I hated you. And then I hated that I liked you because I just couldn’t hate you--” His hands were suddenly at her hips, “Enough talk,” and no sooner had she tried figuring out what that meant that the young man was dragging her over to his lap before his mouth pressed down onto hers in a passionate kiss.

Y/N tensed for a few seconds, before her body slowly melted in his embrace as his mouth moved slowly over her own, a sinuous dance of lower lip against her upper ones while his arms tightened their hold around her waist. She gasped softly at the feeling of his hard frame against her curves, causing the prince’s mouth to tilt up in a smirk as he progressed the intensity of his kisses. Mouth chasing her own with a hunger she had never been victim to, one of Juyeon’s hands didn’t hesitate to ghost up her arm, along the back of her neck, to mess up her tight ponytail so that her dark hair fell around her shoulders like a curtain.

There was a soft throaty rumble that signalled his approval of this newfound hairstyle, before he slanted his lips even further by tilting his head. Kissed her deeper, with longer strokes and with his tongue slowly introducing itself into her mouth. It was almost like she was being consumed by his entire being, her breath being taken away every time she tried to as she drowned into Juyeon’s ocean of feelings that seemed to emanate in the form of every kiss, every touch, every line of his body that aligned with hers and set fire to her skin.

Only when her back met with the soft foam of the mattress that realization trickled through her mind like icy water. Unlatching their lips with a soft ‘pop’ and scrambling back against the headboard, she looked up, right into Juyeon’s hungry, predatory gaze, one that swam with full-fledged desire, a thirst that she had never seen on the young prince’s face before.

“Juyeon?” her whisper was breathless, and she felt like slapping herself for sounding so needy.

“No,” he let out a soft growl, leaning over her body with his arms settling on either side of her head. HIs mouth started a slow, sensual path of kisses that trailed up her neck, leaving fireworks exploding behind her eyelids, “you’re not talking. You’re not telling me off, not now. Not tonight,” he nipped at a small patch of skin right under her jaw and the girl squirmed, desire rippling through her veins and shooting right down south. It didn’t help that every inch of his muscular frame was pressed against hers as though demanding her to beg for what he could give her.

“Please tell me you’re not playing around,” came Y/N’s soft spoken murmur. She hoped that he didn’t hear it. But it was Juyeon, and Juyeon heard everything that concerned him.

“I wouldn’t do this with anyone else, Y/N,” his eyes locked onto hers and she saw his gaze brimming with a vulnerability, a tenderness that shook her to her core and made her heart flip upside down, “you of all people should know that.”

“So you like me?” she hated how squeaky her voice sounded. He only let out the softest of chuckles, before he leant down to peck her on the mouth, “yes. Yes Y/N. I kinda like you a whole damn lot.”

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jadethest0ne · 3 years

Text

In need of Refueling, Chapter 10 - Extinguished

Summary: “You?! Why would I trust you? You have brought me nothing but failure. Time and time again; nothing but disappointment!”

His father’s words might have been a result of his possession by the White Bone Spirit, but whether or not they were his true thoughts, Red Son vows to prove them wrong. To do so he seeks to attain a power strong enough to destroy his father’s immortal enemy. After all, he’d much rather throw fire at his problems.

Word Count: 2060

Ratings/Warnings: Teen and up; injury, burns, angst and hurt/comfort, toxic thoughts caused by toxic parents, panic attacks, abuse

Notes: Start of Act 2 of this fic ;3

Credits: Big thanks to @painted-arachnid and @simplyfornardo for helping me bounce ideas off of them. And also thanks to @lemonsqueazie for providing me with “Journey to the West” lore. I don’t know much about the original novel or other iterations, but I still tried to keep some things compliant with the lore. You should check all of them out, since they’re really great content creators with neat ideas!

Read on AO3

———-

The world is hazy and hot, as if the heat is distorting the world around him. And yet Red Son feels ice in his heart, reaching out from his center like slowly forming cracks on a frozen lake. He looks up to see his father, looking at him with disappointment. He shakes his head and turns his back to him. Red Son reaches out his hand and calls to his father. He made a mistake, messed everything up, but that doesn’t mean that his father would leave him. Would he? A desperate ache takes hold of his chest and squeezes the words forming in his throat as he tries to call out. The distorted world blurs into something unrecognizable and covers Red Son in darkness.

Red Son slowly becomes aware of things little by little at first - the scent of something herbal, something soft and fuzzy brushing against his cheek. But a sting of pain or shiver running up his spine wipes the sensations away like smudged marker on a whiteboard.

Eventually he gets frustrated at the lack of coherency that his surroundings are giving him. There’s an itch tickling the area where his ear meets his neck, so he focuses on that and tries to pull himself into consciousness. A pounding headache greets him, and a feeling of being weighed down makes the process slow. He might’ve fallen asleep and woken up again in his attempts. It’s hard to tell. He tries to move his head, and both the headache and the tickling sensation becomes stronger. He focuses on the latter sensation, its annoyance being the fuel he needs to wake him up further. He tries to move to scratch the itch, but something stops his left arm. It feels tied down and won’t move from its position on his chest. A throb stabs at him in both his arm and his sides when he tries to force it to move.

He lets out a pained groan and finally opens his eyes. Though the room he is in is not particularly lit, the light that shines through some windows causes him to squint at the glint of sun. A shiver trembles through his body and despite the light hurting his eyes, he wishes the sun would cast its rays on him more directly because he realizes he is freezing. That is despite the heavy blankets that are pulled over him, which he now understands to be the cause of the weighed down sensation he was feeling. He is laying down in a bed in an unknown location. He blinks and looks around the room he is in. It’s bathed in blues, with some green plants dotted around the place giving it an almost sea-garden feel. And it is filled with cats. A couple bold ones that were laying on the edge of the bed he is in get up and inch towards him.

The feeling of being observed by the cats and the dawning that he does not know where he is jolts him awake suddenly and he shifts to sit up. A vicegrip squeezes around his arm and chest in this motion. He’s hurt. He groans loudly and hunches over slightly holding his middle with his free hand. He notices that his right hand is bandaged, and the left arm is wrapped in something stiff with a secondary cloth strapping it to his body, making his left arm and shoulder practically immobile. Most of his exposed skin seems to have bandages as well. What happened? Flashes of the confrontation he had with The Monkey King and then his father sweep across his vision. His father attacked him. Hurt him. No, it wasn’t his father’s fault, it was his own fault. His father had been overcome by the very fire he wielded. He tugs at his shirt with his free hand, anxiously. The fabric feels wrong and he further notices that he is not in his usual clothes and is instead in what looks like a loose pinkish-red robe. He was put in different clothes?

A curious meow snaps Red Son’s attention away from his thoughts. One of the cats, a blueish one with a red tuft of fur on its head, had gotten very close to him. He pulls away and yelps, partially in surprise, and partially in pain. The cat, likewise does a little jump, and walks back a few steps before yowling much more loudly behind its shoulder.

Its call seemingly summons someone, as a booming voice yells from another room, “Coming, Mo! Is he awake?!”

Red Son sucks a breath in as a very large, blue-skinned man with a bright orange mohawk steps into view. He recognizes him as one of the Noodle Boy’s companions. It’s the giant blue one, who is very muscular, with hands that look like they could easily wrap around his head and crush him. He’d never come up against this man in a close fight and didn’t know what he was capable of, but he didn’t want to stick around to find out. Instinct pushes him to bolt.

He scrambles the best he can with one free arm and a stiff and injured body to the side of the bed farthest away from the man. He can hear him saying something about ‘Don’t move or you’ll make your injuries worse,’ but he paid them no attention. He hears the large footsteps come closer and he desperately tries to get out of bed. His bare feet touch a too cold floor and another shiver wracks through his body, hitting every sore spot on the way. When he tries to put weight on his legs, they jiggle, and between that and what feels like a knife stabbing at his right ankle it causes his knees to buckle and he falls to the floor in a painful heap.

“Oh dear,” comes the voice of the Blue One as Red Son hears him shift around the bed.

He has to get up! Red Son ignores the pounding in his head and grits his teeth, as he uses the leverage of the bed to right himself. But his feet do not listen to him, and all he can do is push himself farther into the small space between the bed and the wall. The only escape on the end of the bed has been filled in by the hulking form of his enemy. “Let me help.” The large blue skinned man reaches out to Red Son, who shrinks back.

He’s hurt and can’t stand, can barely move, and being backed up between the bed and the wall, he has the distinct feeling of being cornered. His whole body is trembling in a way that he can’t stop as the world seems to box him in. He pushes his back against the wall, wishing he could just disappear into it, and squints his eyes shut. With as much strength he can muster he yells, trying to keep the fear and desperation out of his voice, “DON’T TOUCH ME!”

A moment passes. When no presence is felt, he cautiously opens his eyes and looks up. He is surprised to see that his shout was heeded and that the large man has pulled his hands away. The man has a look of almost hurt, and a bit of pity on his face. Red Son appreciates neither.

“I’m sorry,” says the Blue One. “I just wanted to make sure you’re not hurt.”

Red Son breathes for a moment, looking the large man up and down. He has knelt down in the gap between the bed and the wall, still blocking Red Son’s exit, but leaving him ample space so that the room feels less oppressive.

“H-hurt…?” Red Son says around a tremble. “O-of course I’m hurt! Don’t you see the bandages, you buffoon!” He tugs absently at the blanket that is hanging part-way off the bed.

“Well, yes I suppose that is a given. I-uh I’m the one who bandaged you. Your other shirt was kinda ripped up so I gave you a spare robe. I hope that’s okay…?” the Blue One says, almost sheepishly.

Red Son manages to tug the blanket off of the bed and pulls it around himself as best he can in the somewhat cramped space. “Well, you could’ve given me something warmer, do you always keep your little shack so freezing cold?!” he says with a sneer, while trying to keep his teeth from chattering.

The man looks almost surprised and looks like he’s about to contradict, but instead says, “Are you cold? I could get you some warm tea to drink!”

Before Red Son can respond, the man sweeps out of the room leaving him to sit there, with his mouth partially hanging open.

Red Son wonders what his plan is. What was the big guy up to? He supposes he could just leave if he wanted. If he could actually stand that is. He looks around and some other curious cats have started crowding around him.

“Go away!” he yells at them angrily. At his yell, he notices something is off. Normally during his outbursts, his hair would flair up. That reminded him of the tickling sensation from earlier. He moves his hand to the itchy spot and finds that his hair is there. Lying flat against his head and draped over his shoulders and down his back. No longer in its usual pony-tail and flickering with his emotions. Before he can dwell on that, the Blue One has entered the room again.

“Now now, kitties, he doesn’t like it when you get too close, so give him space,” the Blue One admonishes the cats. They weave in between his legs, and the man gracefully balances his form around them while carrying a teapot and mug. He places the mug on a tray, and scoots the tray across the floor to Red Son, careful to not get close.

Red Son eyes the green liquid and the blue man, and cautiously picks up the mug. But instead of taking a sip, he holds it close to him, greedily trying to embrace the warmth.

And that’s when he notices something strange again.

Red Son can’t feel it.

Yes, he can physically feel the cup and the heat on his skin with his hands wrapped around it. But he can’t feel the warmth. Not really. Not with his powers. Not with his whole self. He can’t feel the ebb and flow of the steam that wafts out of the tea. Nor the pulsing of the energy from the warm liquid.

He tries to reach out with his powers and interact with the heat. Pull it in, make it stronger, do something, but he realizes that he can’t. Nothing happens. Shakily taking in a breath, he tries to activate his flames. He commands sparks to dance on his fingers. They do not. He squints his eyes and tries to make his hair flare up like it usually does with his abilities. But instead it continues to lay limply on his shoulders. He attempts to conjure heat from his center in hopes of warming himself up. But it doesn’t work.

He is cold. He feels empty. And it is as if a part of him is cut off from a section of the world that he used to participate in.

He can’t do anything.

He swallows thickly and grinds his teeth. His breaths pick up and his shoulders shudder. He holds the cup in a white-knuckled grip, before angrily throwing it across the floor. Even that motion has no real power behind it, and the mug thunks anticlimactically on the ground, chipping the edge slightly and causing the still warm liquid inside to dribble out lazily across the floor. He sees the steam and is reminded that that is all he can do. Only watch. Not control.

The blue stranger fusses about the spilt liquid and goes about cleaning it up, but Red Son pays him no mind. Instead, he pulls at the blankets around him and buries his face in the covers. It’s too much. The cold. The pain. The deep loss suddenly consuming him. His head feels fuzzy, and his chest is stabbed with pain with each shuddering, fast-paced breath. These sensations buzz together until they take over his entire being and everything becomes void.

start || <– previous // next –>

#inor #in need of refueling #lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk fanfic #fanfiction #red son #sandy #injury #recovery #panic attacks #my writing #jadethest0ne

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teaspoon-full-of-sugar · 4 years

Text

tangled up in blue

pairing: harry styles x plus size!reader

warnings: fluff, comfort, mentions of anxiety, kinda angsty

word count: 4.4k

synopsis: harry has a rude encounter with a fan

author’s note: sorry for another rushed ending, but other than that, i hope you enjoy xx all the love

masterlist

—

It’s his first day off in weeks, and he is taking full advantage of it. After such a stressful few months, he wants nothing more than to spend this short break with his girlfriend.

It’s two in the afternoon before he gets out of bed, and that’s only because the weak little grumbling in his stomach became too much to ignore. With no real food in the house, Y/N called in an order to their regular place, as long as he is the one who picks it up.

He decides to walk, since the restaurant is only a few blocks away from his home, but when he catches a couple paps trying to get pictures a little ways down the road, he knew he should have driven. He’s glad Y/N stayed home, since photos of her rarely get out, and he knows that she wouldn’t have been comfortable with it.

He sighs, trying to not let them ruin his first relaxing day in a while, but it’s hard. Harry likes his privacy, and sadly, he chose the wrong career. He would never say that he hates what he does. He loves being able to bring joy and kindness to people who really need it, even if it is just for a couple of minutes.

He just wishes he could have some more space and privacy and freedom to do his own thing. He wishes he could go out on his day off without being stopped or having people trying (and failing) to take a sneaky picture of him, which, again, is an absolute invasion of his privacy.

He would never snap at anyone, well, no one except the paparazzi, not only because he was taught early on that he shouldn’t do that, but also because he wasn’t that type of person. While he still may not be used to the significance of his stardom, he still understands that he is a role model to many people, and he needs to act as such.

“I have an order to pick up,” he says to the hostess, who just stares at him for a second, jaw dropped slightly. It’s not the usual woman who gives him his orders, so he gives her a moment. She bounces back rather quickly.

“Uh, what’s the name?” She asks, trying not to draw any unwanted attention toward him, which he appreciates.

“Y/N.”

She taps away at the register, tells him the total, and he pays.

“I’ll go check and see if your order’s done. If not, it should be just a couple of minutes.”

“No problem.” He smiles.

“Harry?”

He turns to see a nervous looking girl with a bright tee knotted around her middle and a pretty pearl necklace tight around her neck. She brushes a tuft of brown hair over her shoulder, fiddling with her fingers. She’s only a little shorter than him, but she still doesn’t meet his eye.

“C-could I get a picture?”

He honestly doesn’t want to.

He knows that one photo will lead to dozens more, and he just wants to get his food, go home, and cuddle up with Y/N, but she looks sweet, and the hopeful look in her eyes makes him cave.

“Sure,” he says weakly, taking a quick photo.

“How’s Y/N?” The girl asks when she puts her phone away, desperate for a little more time with him. A beaming smile takes over his features, and he sits on a stool at the bar, feet tucking behind the bottom bars. It’s not very often he gets asked about her, but whenever he does, he takes full advantage of it; that is, of course, if the person seems genuinely interested and not just asking him for the sake of conversation.

The public was a little less than understanding or supportive of their relationship when it was, forcibly, made known. Being friends and neighbors since childhood, Y/N has been a present figure in the early parts of his life. They grew further and further apart after he left for The X Factor, to the point where they didn’t even speak to each other. It was tough because she wanted absolutely nothing to do with the life that he led, and he couldn’t just give up everything he worked so hard toward.

They reconnected some years ago when he was visiting home, and she had a break from uni. It was a slow build to what it is today, mostly because Y/N was hesitant about everything that came with being with him, like distance between them, negative publicity, and, of course, his fans, but, as she always said, he made everything worth it.

When their relationship was leaked in the press, they had to prematurely address the rumors. Not that Harry is embarrassed or ashamed of her, quite the opposite, really, but he just had one too many relationships fall apart due to the pressure the media put on them. He didn’t want to put Y/N through that; he didn’t want to see her to realize that, perhaps, he wasn’t worth the negative attention.

“She’s great,” he says. “We’re gonna go hiking later this evening, hopefully get a good view of the sunset.”

“That’s nice,” she smiles, happy that he’s happy, and he breathes out a sigh of relief. It’s refreshing to meet someone who is actually

His smile fades when a girl behind him scoffs.

“That’s surprising.”

He wants to believe that she’s not commenting on his conversation, but he knows better than anyone that she’s listening in; hell, he could feel the eyes of everyone in the diner the second he stepped inside, but just because he’s been doing this for years doesn’t mean that he’s not immune to the voices and the stares. He’s gotten pretty good at being able to ignore them, and he tries his best to do the same with her.

The brunette, who also seems to have noticed the girl behind him, flushes red, pity apparent on her features. He gives her an uncomfortable, closed mouth smile, trying to focus back on their own conversation.

“I mean, have you seen her?” The girl behind him continues, laughing lightly.

It makes his chest ache, anger settling deep in his stomach, burning and vengeful. Never has anyone made such blatant comments about her; they normally say that sort of stuff behind the safety of a screen and certainly not right in front of him. He knows what people say about his love. They make negative comments every little thing about her, the biggest one being her weight, and he never says anything because Y/N thinks that it would make everything worse, but she’s not here to hold him back.

He turns to face the girls behind him. The one whose back is still facing toward him, leaned in close to the other, as though that’s enough to hide what she’s saying.

“I beg your pardon?”

They’re both young, but surely old enough to know better. One of the girls, with brown hair with a pink strip in the front, blanches when he catches her eye, an apologetic look on her face; she looks close to tears, even, stuttering hopelessly.

“Dee—”

“I didn’t expect him to be a chubby chaser.”

“Excuse me?”

The girl with bright red hair, Dee, he assumes, finally turns to face him, a shameless smirk on her face.

“I am so sorry,” the brunette begins, but her friend, fueled by desperation and spite, cocks her head to the side, chest puffing out beneath a “Treat People with Kindness” shirt, the rainbow colored words taunting him.

How ironic.

“I mean… am I wrong?” She asks, looking at him expectantly.

“How dare you?” He seethes, standing fully, towering over her seated figure. He knows he shouldn’t be giving her the slightest bit of attention. That’s exactly what she wants, to get a reaction out of him, and he’s playing into her game, but he honestly doesn’t care. A heated red paints his skin, trailing up from his neck to the tip of his nose. He can barely breathe, let alone speak clearly, frustration and anger choking him.

He struggles to find his voice, but when he does, he can’t stop them from spilling out, malice and disgust dripping with every word.

“I have never been so disappointed and ashamed in someone who claims to be a fan of mine. How can you wear that shirt while passing judgement on someone I love very much, who you have never seen or met? And I pray that you will never meet her because she doesn’t deserve such vile things being said about her.”

He turns to see the hostess with a large paper bag in a stunned silence, and he takes it from her wordlessly.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters to the sweet girl, ashamed that he snapped like he did, but she gives him a proud smile and moves, so he can leave.

—

Someone apparently recorded the encounter, and the video is trending on Twitter by the time he gets home. Jeff is the one who told him about it, sending him a link and a long message about how much of a PR nightmare it’s going to be. Especially when the reception is less than positive. While some think he was being too nice, others are saying that he shouldn’t have lashed out (their words, not his) at someone who is a fan and supports him, but Harry knows that there is no winning. Everyone always finds something to say about things that are clearly none of their business. He even saw a few comments about Y/N, how she should fight her own battles and not have Harry do them for her.

They make him feel nauseous.

“Hey, babe,” he says as he enters their apartment, Munchy, Y/N’s cat, weaving and purring between his legs. Whenever he gets home, he can feel the stresses of the day shrink to nothing, and he’s finally able to relax. A smile creeps over his face when he sees her, leaning against the counter with a mug of tea cupped in her hands. She hasn’t changed out of the boxers and the large yellow tee from that morning, but her hair is still wet from a shower, the scent of her fruity soap strong.

“Hey,” she says softly, and he leans in for a kiss, only for her to turn at the last moment, lips unfortunately pressing to her cheek. She takes the bag from him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, tugging the takeaway boxes from the bag, not even offering him a glance.

He knows that she’ll tell him what’s really wrong in her own due time, so he can’t push her; that makes it worse for everyone involved. However, he has gotten pretty good at coaxing it out of her. All it takes is a little patience and affection, and she’s putty in his hands.

He presses kisses to her temple, tracing his lips down the length of her tender skin to the shell of her ear, nibbling playfully. He dips his hand beneath her shirt, feeling her stomach tense beneath his touch. After such an exhausting day, he just wants to be with her, feel her warmth and love. He’s never really been able to find comfort or safety in any of his past lovers, and when he found that in Y/N, he never misses an opportunity to shower her with affection, teasing and biting at her skin. He just wants to melt and forget about his problems, to just be there, in the present, with her.

His little bubble is popped when she shoves his hand away, probably harder than she really meant to, but it hurts him, nonetheless. She turns and gives him a weak little smile, her eyes, glassy and unable to meet his gaze. She looks like a shell, nervous and empty, and he knows exactly why she’s acting the way she is. She must have seen the video and probably the nasty comments people left about her.

“Baby—”

“Let’s eat, yeah?” She changes the subject, pulling out some silverware from the drawer. “This one mine?”

“Yeah, your usual,” he says softly.

They eat in an awkward silence, old sitcom reruns playing in the background, tension thick in the air. He can’t focus on anything but her breaths, shaky and shallow with anxiety. He knows that this entire situation is weighing heavily on her mind, and he needs to get everything off his chest. He wants to pull her into his arms, stroke her hair, and tell her to not listen to anything anyone says, that she’s it for him.

It's going to happen, all in due time; he’ll get nowhere if he doesn’t go at her pace.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she mutters suddenly, picking at her food. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but I don’t want you putting your career at stake by standing up for me.”

He understands; he knows what it feels like to constantly be worried about what other people think, to have it impact every single decision you make. He’s mulled over everything he’s done for the past decade, but, at the same time, he’s her boyfriend first. He could honestly give a damn about his public image if it meant he had to stand by a listen to people say those nasty things about her.

“You would do the same for me,” he says, and she sighs.

“It’s not the same thing.”

“I don’t understand why we're arguing about this,” he says abruptly, placing his food onto the side table and turning fully toward her.

“I’m not—” She breathes out quickly, standing up. She tugs her clothes down, loosening them, and she crosses her arms, feeling vulnerable for some reason. Harry has never passed any judgement to her for the way she looked, knowing full well that she’s struggled with her weight her entire life, but this entire situation is making her feel insecure and weak and anxious. She feels like he is going to think that she’s being too sensitive about it, melodramatic about the severity of their comments.

“I’m not trying to start an argument. I just don’t think you understand that there’s going to be a lot of backlash for this.”

She’s embarrassed that he even needs to stand up for her. He should be with someone who is used to being in the spotlight, and, most importantly, he deserves to be able to go out with someone without people commenting or staring. He shouldn’t be with someone who makes people wonder why he’s with her, of all people.

It’s not only her physical appearance that people comment on; she’s seen fans talk about how Harry doesn’t go out anymore, how she is never present at any concerts or any other special events, even though they don’t know she has severe social anxiety and a career that keeps her from being with him all the time. She truly wishes she could be all of those things for him, but she can’t, and that’s what breaks her heart the most.

Harry deserves nothing less than the world, and he settled for her.

And with everyone else in the world questioning why he chose her, of all people, why wouldn’t he think the same?

“There would be even more backlash if I had just ignored it, right?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she says, “but, it’s not like it’s going to stop people from saying—”

She can’t even say it, their all too familiar words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. No matter how many times Harry tells her to pay no mind to their comments, she can’t help it. She truly hates how much other people’s opinions about her impact her, with paralyzing fear and doubt filtering through her thoughts on a daily basis, but she can’t help it.

“Saying what?”

“You know,” she whimpers, eyes glassy. “No matter what you do, there will always be people who say that I don’t deserve you. There will always be people out there who think I’m ugly o-or too fat for you and—” She chokes on her words, tears finally breaking through. A weak sob leaves her lips, faint and broken. “It’s not like it’s not true, so there’s no point in fighting it if it’s going to ruin your reputation.”

She starts to pace, one hand tucking into the curve of her waist while the other pinches the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache forming.

“Whoa, hey, okay,” he stutters, standing. He holds onto her arms, hands rubbing over her cool skin, trying to comfort her, but she weakly pushes him away again, rubbing her nose. She pulls at the bottom of her shirt and wipes away her tears, leaving it wrinkled and wet. She sniffles, struggling to keep the panic from growing any further in her chest, heart racing painfully.

She moves into their bedroom, and he follows close behind, their food long forgotten as she tries to control her breathing.

“What’s this really about?” He asks. She pauses, her shoulders visibly sinking, and she sits on the foot of the bed, hooking her feet on the footboard. She cradles legs to her chest and tugs her shirt over them, forehead pressed against her knees.

She’s exhausted at this point. Ever since she saw the video and the comments, she’s been torn. She’s grateful that Harry said something; it made her hopeful that maybe it would make them stop, even if it was for only a day, but when she saw people actually defending the girl who said those terrible things about her, all of that pride was pulled away, leaving nothing behind other than debilitating anxiety and bone-chilling fear.

She just wants the day to be over, as if that will make everything go away.

She knows that they need to talk about it, but she’s afraid. She’s afraid of what this conversation could lead to; he could realize that he doesn’t want to deal with everything anymore or that he doesn’t want to deal with the strain that it puts on his relationship with the public.

The bed shifts as he kneels beside her, hand pressing against the small of her back.

“Y/N, please, don’t shut me out,” he whispers. She whimpers when he kisses her temple, an attempt at trying to ease her out of this miserable hole she’s dug for herself. She finally looks up at him with swollen, burning eyes, tears threatening to fall.

“I just don’t want you to wake up one day and realize that I’m not worth all of this. You shouldn’t even need to say anything to people.”

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have to say anything to them, but that has absolutely nothing to do with you. I have to say things because of all of the judgmental people in the world, who body shame the woman that I love, a woman who they know absolutely nothing about.”

“I don’t want you to start believing them, and I just don’t want you to regret me.”

“Why would I ever regret you?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” She snaps, her lips quivering. “I’m not like the others.”

“That’s what I love about you.”

“I’m not cut out for this,” she cries.

Hurt passes over his features, and the words die on his tongue. A pinch of fear starts in his stomach and spreads up to his heart, which races painfully, chills rushing through his spine.

“What are you saying?”

She doesn’t answer; she can’t. She didn’t mean for it to slip out. It’s usually just a passing thought when her insecurities come at full force. She’s never actually said it aloud, for fear of its repercussions. She doesn’t want to lose him. Even if she isn’t cut out for this sort of lifestyle, he is worth absolutely everything.

“Y/N,” he says, cupping her cheeks. He wipes away her tears with his thumbs, but more fall to replace the ones he tried to clear. He hates how much this has affected her, and he hates that it’s his fault, too. She holds onto his wrists, fingers trailing up and down his heated skin, from his calloused hands to his elbows, their gaze never breaking.

“I love you. Nothing anyone says will make me feel differently. Would you still love me if I gained a ton of weight or if I was just skin and bones?”

“Of course,” she says quickly.

“This is no different,” he smiles. “I do regret many things in my life. I regret some choices I’ve made, I regret things I’ve said, and I regret being selfish. But you?” He shakes his head. “You will never be one of my regrets. You are beautiful inside and out. You make me want to be better, you make me look forward to every new day, and you give me strength.”

Her heart swells at his words. Harry has always been a very emotive man when it came to her. He was never ashamed to let her know exactly how he felt, probably because of the years where he felt hopeless and couldn’t express himself fully. He leans in a little closer, his forehead resting against hers, and she can feel her worries tapering off with every shallow breath.

“My love, you have no idea what you do to me,” he whispers, rubbing his nose against hers. He brushes away her tears, leaving her skin sticky. “Not one fuckin’ clue about the nights where I wanted nothing more than to be just with you, to be able to see you and laugh with you. Remember the night before my audition? And I asked if I could kiss you because I’d never kissed anyone before, and I didn’t want to seem like an absolute dud.”

She nods.

She pondered over that night for years. He was rambling and nervous, but she didn’t hear anything after he asked if he could kiss her, her mind going completely blank. Of course, she said yes. She had a crush on him for years, how could she say no? Even if it was just once, if it was just one fleeting moment in her life, she held onto it with everything she could.

It was her first kiss, too, and she was so nervous with trembling hands and clammy skin. It seemed too good to be true: the boy she’s liked since as long as she could remember was going to kiss her; perhaps, there was hope for them after all.

When they pulled apart, his hair messy and cheeks rosy, she thought that he was going to kiss her again. From the look in his eyes, he seemed like he was completely enamored with her, at a loss for breath with a soft gaze, but he didn’t. Her mind was playing tricks on her because all he said was “thanks”, and he laid back down, on his side, not even facing her. The hope she felt was crushed. Then, he left the next morning, and they never spoke about it again. The memory of that night leaves her heart aching.

“Bullshit, all of it. I jus’ wanted to know how your lips would feel against mine, how soft and warm your body would feel. For months, I would think about that night, and I wished I could go back and tell you the truth, that I loved you. You have no idea how grateful I am to have you back in my life, to have you here, by my side, to hold and love.”

As she gazes into his eyes, she can feel the truth in his words, the dedication, and the pain, most of all.

He doesn’t want to lose her like he did all those years ago.

He felt the same during those years apart, hopelessly wandering into the arms of various lovers to try to replace what he felt for her. He’s spent nearly an entire decade, searching for that one person to fill the void in his heart that Y/N claimed when they were just kids, much like she had with him. He yearned for a person, who would support and loyalty him just as she had, but they never cared as deeply as he did, nor did they feel and love just as strongly as he did.

“I love you for everything you are, not just your heart or your mind but also your beautiful body, babylove. Don’t let anyone tell you any differently.”

His lips tease over hers, just barely touching before she finally catches his lips after such a painstakingly long moment of silence after his confession, and they both are overwhelmed with the feeling of absolute relief, like they’re finally able to breathe.

He guides her onto her back, his knee nestling between her legs, blue sheets bunched up around her waist. He gently eases his hand below her shirt, fingers faint on the soft and pliant skin. She combs her nails through his hair, scratching and teasing. Her body alive and heated beneath his touch, they melt into each other, forgetting everything wrong with the world and focusing solely on each other, the pinch of teeth biting lips and the rush of chills down her spine. He feels up her thighs, tender touch on her soft skin, but she pulls away from him, fingers still latched in his hair, hesitation clear on her features.

“Please,” he whispers. “Jus’ wanna make you feel good.” He kisses her beneath the curve of her jaw, the warmth of his breath leaving her heart racing. “Wanna make you feel loved, make you feel as beautiful as you are.”

There’s not many things Harry can find safety with. Since his life in the public eye, he’s had to make a lot of sacrifices. It’s difficult to find considerate strangers, safe refuges, and genuine friends, but he knows that he can always find solace with her, in their home, together, blanketed in warmth and tangled up in blue.

—

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #ellie writes #ellie writes fluff #ellie writes angst #gif not mine #credit to owner

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shitty-marvel-fan732 · 4 years

Text

Jealous of a Kitten

Author's Note:

Hey y'all! So I was b l o w n away by the response to my last Loki x Reader oneshot, so I thought I'd give writing for him another go! I've had this fic in my drafts since literally last year lmao. If you end up liking it, I'd love a like, reblog, or comment to let me know! And if anyone wants to request something for Loki or any other MCU characters, feel free to send me a message and let me know! As always big thanks to @twentytwohearts for their help reading and helping out with this fic!

Y/N POV:

“Good heavens mortal, haven’t you got anything else to occupy your time besides pestering me?” Loki grumbled affectionately from his place on the sofa. He was reclined comfortably on the couch, back pressed up to my front as he rested in between my bent legs. My hands were tangled within his inky black locks, fingers lazily scratching through his hair as I braided small sections. I grinned widely.

“Nope!” I replied cheekily, ensuring to overexaggeratedly pop the “p” at the end. “Cap gave me the rest of the day off from training, so you’re blessed with my presence all day, snowball."

The prince sighed melodramatically as he turned a page in the book currently resting on his lap.

“I wouldn’t exactly describe it as a blessing pet” he remarked dryly. His tone was nonchalant, but I could hear the small smile in his words despite his clear efforts to seem passive.

“Oh please, we both know you love when I ‘annoy’ you." I rolled my eyes with a giggle. Loki merely hummed in response as he continued to read whatever tome had caught his attention this afternoon. Deciding to mess with him a bit, I removed my hands from his now-wavy tresses.

“Or maybe not?” I pouted, feigning hurt and leaning my chest away from his body. He stilled slightly with his fingers paused mid page turn. His back tensed just a bit, and I could practically hear the cogs turning in his head as he tried to decipher whether or not I was serious. Though he only panicked a moment or two, it was enough to make me silently delight in having seemingly tricked the god of mischief. He huffed childishly, his hand grabbing mine quickly and placing it back on his head.

My smile widened so far at his reaction I was almost fearful it may actually split my face in two. He didn't say anything, but was certain Loki could feel the satisfaction coming off of me in waves. Even though I'd known from the beginning, it was nice to be reminded just how content he was to be entangled with me for the moment. He could pretend all he wanted, but I knew something about the lanky god that most people didn't.

He was a huge cuddle-bug.

As stiff and regal as he presented himself most of the time, he never failed to make it known just how much he adored physical contact with me. I'd even go so far as to consider him touch-starved when we'd first met. I mean, it made sense. He was a prince and the only meaningful contact he'd probably experienced came from those that used to help him dress or bathe. The thought of him going for so long -- literally thousands of years -- without the affectionate touch of another living being made me genuinely teary. Once we'd established ourselves as a couple, he instantly became a constant presence at my side. It didn't matter the situation nor the company surrounding us, if he was in the same room as I was he would gravitate towards me. Whether it was a hand resting across the small of my back or fingers linked firmly through mine, he always found some way to initiate some kind of physical touch. I was more than thrilled at his open displays of affection -- even after months of time spent together I still felt the delicious ripples of electricity run through me each time his skin met mine.

Moments like today's were rare. Days when neither of us had any obligations or work to be done, when we could just spend time with one another. Sweet, domestic slices of life when we could just cuddle close to one another and pretend for a moment that all the struggles of the world were gone. I sighed softly as we lapsed back into comfortable silence, both of us content to simply be in one another's presence.

But, as always, no peaceful moments around here could last that long.

Peter came bursting through the door, looking even more flustered than usual. Which, for him, was saying something. He was wearing his suit sans the mask, carrying a giant throw blanket, with his brown curls mussed wildly and eyes desperately searching the room. He spotted Loki and I fairly quickly. A brief look of relief passed over the young boy's features as he rushed over to where we laid.

"Hey guys, uhm I could use some help," he blurted breathlessly once he reached the couch. I chuckled, amused by the poor flustered teen.

"You'll have to be more specific than that," Loki grumbled from his place between my legs. I didn't need to see his face to know exactly his expression. Clearly he was annoyed to have our peaceful moment interrupted, and I would bet money that he was scowling at Peter as a result. Frowning slightly, I pinched the back of his arm in reprimand.

"OUCH," he exclaimed dramatically. His arm darted out of my reach, the other hand coming out to rub the sore spot childishly. "What on Earth was that for?"

"Leave him alone snowball, he clearly needs something," I scolded lightly. He huffed once more, settling back into my legs and turning his attention back to his book and grumbling inaudibly. I rolled my eyes.

Peter's eyes went slightly wider as they darted between Loki and I. He wasn't entirely comfortable with the raven-haired Asgardian when he was actually behaving, and given Loki's current grumpy demeanor he seemed especially on-edge. I smiled brightly, hoping to ease his discomfort.

"What's up Peter?"

His eyes darted back to mine suddenly, relief overtaking his face at the save.

"So I was just out, ya know like patrolling, and I was helping this old Italian lady. She was carrying all this stuff right -- and I obviously figured I would try to help -- but she didn't speak English. She was like kinda mad at first and she hit me a couple times, cause I think she thought I was trying to rob her, but eventually we got everything sorted and got all her stuff back to her super old car and --" Peter rambled, words slurring together with that inhuman speed that only teenagers could seem to muster. My brows furrowed in confusion and I lifted my hands up like a criminal surrendering.

"Whoa WHOA Spiderling, take a breath man." I chuckled good-naturedly. The teen's face flushed slightly at my interruption.

"Sorry. Right. Sorry." he mumbled. "Anyways, so I finally get all her stuff in her car, and she just leaned into me and patted my head. I was gonna swing away, but she handed me this and drove away."

He gestured to the large blanket in his gloved hands. My brows furrowed.

"Okayyyyy," I drawled, still confused as to the issue. "And you're mad she gave you an afghan because…?"

His eyes sparked with realization, mouth forming an 'O'.

"Oh no, no that's not it. I mean that is pretty weird, like why would I need a blanket in the first place. Maybe she thought I looked cold or something, but --"

"Norns, child!" Loki interrupted. He shut his book with a snap, abruptly shifting positions on the couch so he was sitting upright. "Could you perhaps get to the point sometime this century?"

I slapped his arm disapprovingly -- he scowled at me, stubbornly scooting further from me in silent protest. I turned my attention back to Peter with a soft smile. I nodded at the red-faced teen, waving a hand in indication that he should continue.

"Right. Sorry Mr. Loki. Uhm, so anyways, she gave me this and I don't exactly know what to do with it," he finished. He opened the chunky-knit blanket to reveal the smallest, fuzziest kitten I'd ever seen. The kitten was tiny, no bigger than my fist, fur matted and full of tufts of orange and white hair. As soon as Peter opened the blanket the small kitten blinked it's tiny eyes against the harsh light. Adorable high pitched squeaks came from the teeny cat, who was clearly displeased with the sudden disturbance to it's sleep.

I gasped, my heart practically melting at the sight. I stood suddenly, hands reaching out unconsciously and making grabby motions towards the adorable creature. Peter readily complied, gently transferring the mewling baby over to my awaiting grasp. I cradled the little cat delicately, blanket and all, against my chest and cooed soft, unintelligible words of affection. My hands instantly found a spot behind the kitten's ears and began scratching lightly. The kitten responded positively, nuzzling into my touch readily and purring loudly at the attention. My heart felt like it was positively melting at the sights, sounds, and feel of the small animal in my arms.

"It's so cute," I gushed, though whether it was to myself or the guys I wasn't even sure. I finally managed to tear my gaze from the cat when I heard a quiet growl come from Loki's direction.

He was in his same spot on the couch, but I could instantly tell he was annoyed, even without the little grumble. His posture was rigid, hands sitting atop his legs balled into fists, and eyes suddenly dark with anger. Only moments before his face had seemed soft, the sharp planes and angles relaxed as we'd sat together. Now his expression was stony -- the stern mask of irritation he so often wore back with a vengeance. I was momentarily distracted from the small creature in my arms. Twinges of worry and the impulse to comfort him planted low in my belly ran through me at the sight.

"He is cute," Peter's voice interrupted, clearly oblivious to Loki's abrupt mood shift. "At least I think it's a he? Anyways I can't bring him home, May is allergic to cats and anyways I don't think they're allowed in my building. I was kind of hoping you could watch him for a while?"

"Absolutely n--"

"Of course!"

Loki's head snapped up towards mine as we spoke at the same time, his scowl deepening at my response. I furrowed my brows in confusion, slightly surprised at his aggressive reaction. Peter's eyes bounced from my face to Loki's -- the awkwardness radiating from him as he shifted from foot to foot.

"Can you not just take it to a shelter or something of that nature?" Loki seethed, glaring at the poor teen. Peter was clearly flustered by the question -- red creeped up his cheeks and he rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort.

"Well, see, I tried that! I did, but they told me he's too young for them to take -- cause he's just a baby -- and they can't take him," he stuttered. "Plus, they said they've got too many animals right now, and if he doesn't get adopted soon then they might have to...you know…"

I gasped, instinctively tugging the now-sleeping kitten closer to my chest. Loki shrugged, nonplussed.

"So?" he questioned. "That is what happens to unneeded animals on this realm, yes?"

My jaw dropped and I frowned disapprovingly at Loki. I knew he could still be, shall we say, difficult at times; though he was definitely on his way to being 'rehabilitated', old habits die hard and he often still struggled with concepts like compassion and kindness. Particularly when it came to anyone or anything that wasn't, well, me. Even still, how someone could look at the tiny creature in my arms without feeling the warm, protective emotions that I did baffled me.

"We are NOT sending this poor baby to be killed!" I stage whispered the last part, glaring at Loki and cradling the kitten protectively against my chest. "Good lord Loki, just look at him!"

I held the small orange cat down slightly, revealing it's angelic sleeping face to the scowling god. He glanced at the kitten briefly before turning his attention back to me and quirking a brow.

"I have." he stated plainly, voice laced with poorly concealed contempt. I scowled at him and stuck my tongue out childishly before turning back to Peter.

"Ignore him Pete, of course we'll take care of him." I reassured the flustered teen. Peter's young face instantly flooded with relief and he mumbled a muffled 'thanks!' as he rushed back out of the room.

Smiling and chuckling, I turned back towards the couch where Loki still sat. His facial expression remained annoyed and he'd crossed his arms tensely against his chest. I couldn't help but giggle outwardly at his pout; he looked like a child who's toy had been taken away. Though I found his pouty face adorable, I still found it slightly infuriating that it was over the innocent little bundle in my arms. My obvious amusement only caused his scowl to deepen and he scooched over further from me as I sat in my previous spot on the plush couch.

"Somebody's a bit crabby," I stage whispered to the still sleeping kitten. Loki scoffed.

"I am not 'crabby' pet," he grumbled. "I simply don't understand your fascination with this little creature.”

I chuckled, the noise hollow and closer to a scoff than anything. I rolled my eyes before turning my attention back to the small kitten in my arms. He began to stir lightly, stretching out his tiny limbs and squeaking out the most adorable yawn before turning his attention to Loki and I. His small eyes appraised the two of us with a kind of innocent curiosity. Eventually he deemed us safe enough, and he began to slowly venture out from the confines of his blanket. As he tentatively explored my lap and the small section of couch that separated Loki and I, I felt my face split into a wide smile. Warm, happy feelings blossomed in my chest at the sight of the curious creature.

"What's your name gonna be, huh?" I cooed to the small, exploring cat. "Are you a Tom or more of a Finn hmmm?"

Loki rolled his eyes, face never leaving his book.

"How about blot?" he suggested plainly. His tone was even, controlled, and even though his lips didn't quirk up even the slightest bit at his suggestion I was wholly suspicious instantly. Sending a frown his way, I replied quickly.

"Dare I even ask what that means?" I quipped warily. His eyes flashed momentarily to my face as he shrugged. Even with the briefest glance I could see the tell-tale spark of mischief in his eyes. Rolling my own eyes in exasperation, I turned my attention back towards the small tabby and ran my fingers across his back.

"Hmm, what else?" I pondered out loud. "How about Tigger? You look a lot like Tigger."

The tiny cat purred louder at my words, curling around my hand as I spoke. Encouraged, I scratched his fur a little harder.

"You like that huh? Alright, Tigger it is!"

A quiet scoff came from the other end of the couch. To my utter confusion, Loki was still radiating complete and total annoyance from his place across from me. He sat tensely in the opposite corner of the couch with his boots tucked petulantly beneath him and his body angled as far from mine as gravity would allow. His head was bowed down slightly, his attention seemingly directed back to his book. Despite his best efforts, I could tell that he was only idly paying any attention to the words on the page. Gone was the smooth look of contentment that had graced his beautiful features mere minutes before; his face was once more a cold veil of poorly concealed contempt as he feigned reading. The look, though common to the rest of the world, was troubling to me. It’d taken months, but I thought I’d broken through the raven-haired god’s stony exterior. The sudden return of the stern facial expression caused pangs of concern and sympathy to prod at me from within. I reached a hand out instinctively to grasp his hand in mine, determined to display my silent support.

Despite his ‘silvertongue’ reputation, Loki often struggled to verbalize feelings of anything other than contempt, rage, or disgust. I’d learned quickly that often he didn’t need me to attempt to discuss anything he wasn’t ready for -- rather it seemed the best way to comfort him in these times was a physical show of my presence and affection.

This time was no different, and though his head barely moved an inch I could instantly feel the way he calmed under my touch. The muscles in his hand immediately relaxed as he moved to twine his long fingers between mine. His tense expression softened, although only fractionally as he grasped my hand. He turned his attention from his book slowly, deep blue eyes turning to meet my worried gaze.

"Hey, talk to me snowflake," I demanded softly. "What's going on?"

Loki opened his mouth to reply, but a small mewl cut him off before he could speak. I glanced down and giggled lightly at the sight of the small orange tabby beneath us. The tiny kitten had wandered down the couch and was currently sitting mere inches away from our intertwined hands with a curious look overtaking his small face. Evidently he wasn't quite pleased to have the attention taken from him so quickly, and he reached a paw out tentatively to hover above our hands. Eventually deciding it was safe, the small cat placed a paw over the tops of our hands, eyes darting between Loki and I with a kind of content curiosity that made my heart practically melt.

Loki, quite obviously did not share these feelings, and withdrew his hand instantly. His face was once more overtaken by a deep scowl as he snapped his book shut and swiftly stood. He turned curtly and exited the room without another word. My eyes followed him as he left, brows furrowed with concern and confusion. Tigger, meanwhile, was clinging to my chest by his tiny claws, his heart beating with an insane speed. He was clearly scared by Loki's sudden moves and general demeanor, and I cooed soft words of comfort to the small creature. My eyes never left the door though, thoughts of interest and concern overtaking my mind as I wondered what exactly had gotten into my raven-haired companion today.

A few days later

Loki's POV

Sweet giggles filled the halls of the tower as I walked towards Y/N's room. A small smile overtook my features as the sound filtered through my ears. Typically I found midgardians irritating and their laughter grating, but as was almost always the case, Y/N was an exception. Y/N simply radiated happiness at every turn, and over the past weeks the sound of her infectious laugh had become one of my favorite sounds. Her mere presence had the uncanny ability to both calm and excite me at once, and I'd grown progressively more fond of my time spent with her in a way that baffled me and those around us.

In fact, the past few days had proven increasingly difficult for just that reason. Y/N and I had spent less time together as of late -- a fact that saddened and irritated me in near equal parts. For the past few days I’d found myself yearning for more time with my dear mortal, having been separated by the rather irritating presence of a certain small animal. Ever since the young Spiderchild had thrust a stray cat into Y/N's care she had been wholly and utterly enamored with the useless pet. She doted on the feline, which she'd dubbed 'Tigger', and spent nearly all of her time either caring for, amusing, or simply fawning over it.

It was becoming rather taxing.

At first, once I had begrudgingly accepted that the cat wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, I'd attempted to simply ignore it and go about our time as usual. It was only a day or two before that notion was entirely dismissed. Each time I made such an attempt Tigger had made his presence unmistakably clear. The loathsome, needy thing seemed to share my desire to be near Y/N, and was constantly sitting on or pawing at her. And even the precious few moments in which it wasn't physically touching Y/N it took to mewling and crying until she gave in and picked it up. I hadn’t had a single moment with Y/N in which we were truly alone for days, and I was reaching my breaking point.

As I finally reached Y/N’s room and entered, the smile that the sound of her laughter had put on my face immediately turned to a scowl. Inside the room was Y/N, beautiful as ever, sitting casually on her bed. The sight, which normally would have filled my stomach with a tiny stir of happiness, was marred with the unwelcomed addition of a certain small kitten. The wretched thing was sitting in between her legs, happily jumping and pawing at the toy she waved above him. She was looking over the stupid pet with such fondness in her eyes -- a look which I'd once thought was reserved only for me. Irritation overtook my senses at the sight, and I couldn’t help the scoff of annoyance that came from me.

Y/N looked up at the sound, initial confusion turning to excitement as she realized my presence. My own feelings of resentment faded marginally at the sight of her beautiful features lighting up with a smile of genuine happiness at the sight of me.

"Hiya Snowball!" she greeted me excitedly, rushing up from her place on her bed and striding up to where I stood. She tucked herself into the fold of my arms easily, her head resting comfortably against my chest and her arms wrapped tightly around my waist. I sighed lightly, my own arms winding around her relatively smaller frame and my face coming to rest against the top of her head.

"Hello my love," I murmured lightly into the crown of her head, placing a sweet kiss in my wake before burying my nose in the soft hairs there. She hummed softly in contentment, and we stayed in this position for some time. It could've been moments, minutes, hours -- I was never quite aware of the passing of time when I was with Y/N like this. I was wholly encased in the safe little bubble that only her presence seemed to create. I was surrounded by her: the unique scent wafting from her hair, the feel of her body melding against mine, and the soft thumping of her heart against my chest that provided the ideal background music for our calm moment together. I was completely entranced by our embrace, all feelings of irritation gone for the moment.

But only for the moment.

The sound of tiny cries and the feeling of a small body thumping and winding its way across our ankles broke through the peace we'd established like a freight engine. Y/N's chuckle vibrated low against my chest before she pulled herself out of my arms to peer down at the kitten. Annoyance seared through my body as she detangled herself from me and squatted down to scoop the needy thing into her arms. She stood up once more, cradling the spoiled little creature in her arms and scratching its face with her long slender fingers.

"Someone wants a hug too, huh?" she cooed playfully to the cat. My frown deepened at her soft tone, the same tone she often spoke to me with -- the small, loving voice that had crooned to me during late nights or early morning moments spent wrapped in one another's embrace. The same tone that never ceased to comfort me or make me feel as if she was possibly the only person to truly love me. The sound that I treasured so dearly was now being directed to a lowly, disgusting animal. It sent a wave of rage through my entire being like a white hot flame.

"Norns Y/N!" I snapped. "Can we not have a single moment without the presence of this...this animal?"

Her eyes widened as she took in my words, brows practically flying upwards in surprise and hands stilling against Tigger's face. Her wide eyes blinked a few times in complete shock as she surveyed my face carefully.

"I'm sorry?" she questioned confusedly. I exhaled loudly in irritation, arms coming to rest across my chest in a display of my annoyance.

"Does it not bother you that we've not spent a moment together, alone, since the creature was forced upon you?" I questioned, tone acidic and face a stone mask of anger. Her brow furrowed deeper in confusion briefly before a wave of understanding flooded her eyes. Expression softening, she set the kitten down lightly onto the floor before crossing the few steps required to reach me once more. Though her eyes held nothing but concern and understanding within the deep Y/E/C irises, her face had the tiniest hint of a smirk.

"Well I'd ask if it bothered you snowflake, but it seems that may be redundant at this point," she replied to my earlier question with ease. Her soft hands reached up towards me and wrapped easily around the back of my neck. Almost of their own accord, my own hands found the curve of her waist and held her firmly. In lieu of a response I simply scowled in her direction. She chuckled lightly, and propped herself up on her toes briefly to place a gentle kiss on my cheek before she led me over to her bed and motioned for me to sit. I complied, albeit somewhat begrudgingly, and she ensured we were settled against the head of the mattress before she spoke again.

"Loki, are you...jealous of Tigger?" she questioned. Her tone was very matter-of-fact, but the ghost of a smirk still lingered on her face. I felt my face flood with heat, and though I'd like to blame the color on anger I was certain she could tell that I was embarrassed. Though she was largely correct, I was struck with the ridiculousness of the statement as I heard it tumble from her lips. Glancing away from her expectant gaze I mumbled out a response, though I wasn't entirely sure what it was.

Her gentle fingers moved slightly around my head, delicately stroking the skin of my neck and face until her soft palms rested against the sides of my face. She applied the gentlest pressure to my cheek, forcing me to look her in the eyes once more. I reluctantly complied.

"Because if you are," she continued. "I'm sure I'd have to tell you just how insane that is. Outside of the fact that Tigger is a cat and you are my not-so-human boyfriend, the idea that there's anyone or anything I'd want to spend time with more than you is just completely inaccurate. He's a baby, and he needs a lot of my attention that's all. Since you haven't been coming around much I just assumed you were busy with other things lately -- never once did it cross my mind that I was the reason I hadn't seen you much."

I felt my furrowed brows relax slightly. Stupid and petty as my feelings may be, I couldn't deny that hearing such reassurances straight from the one person I truly cared for had taken away a considerable amount of unease from my mind. I exhaled a long breath and shifted unconsciously deeper into Y/N's hold.

"Regardless I'm truly, very sorry that I made you think I was choosing something else over you. I would never want to hurt you like that, or make you feel like you aren't the most important person in my life."

Her worried gaze was still locked firmly on my face as she spoke. Though the majority of my chest was filled with a feeling of relief from her admission, there was a twinge of guilt lurking deep within my stomach. I often forgot just how caring and gentle Y/N could be and this may have been one such occasion. Of course she latched onto the feeble creature -- was that not what she did with me as well? It was simply a part of her nature to care for the weak or disadvantaged.

I frowned once more as my mind reeled with the realization of my own selfishness. Y/N clearly mistook my expression however, and I could see the guilt in her eyes as she spoke up once more.

"I can ask Peter if there anyway he can watch him for a bit, maybe just give us some time alone. Or maybe --"

"No." I cut her off abruptly once again. Her brows furrowed in confusion, and she opened her mouth to reply. My own finger came up to her face fast as lightning to silence what would undoubtedly be more apologies.

"Dearest, clearly the fault is not on your end in this case," I started, hoping to ease her mind. "We both know I often, shall we say, struggle with expressing my thoughts at times. Of course you wish to care for the kitten, just as you care for everything in your life. I was wrong to assume your affections were completely diverted and for not mentioning my feelings sooner. For both, I am truly sorry."

Her expression softened at my apologies, face relaxing under my hand as I spoke. She smiled a small grin of appreciation before thrusting herself forward and deeper into my arms. I let out a small 'oomf' at the force of her body attaching to mine, but regardless my arms wound their way around her frame and I cradled her to my chest. She sighed in contentment, and we stayed in this position for a few moments before I felt her chuckle against my body. I pulled my head back just enough to give her a questioning look.

"I'm sorry," she giggled, face alight with mischief and glee. "Did the big, fearsome Loki just say he was sorry?"

However unintentionally I felt my face heat up once more, although this time it wasn't from anger. I rolled my eyes lightly before smirking down at Y/N's smiling face.

"If I were you, I'd mark this day down in your memory, as it isn't likely to be said again anytime soon," came my dry response.

I heard Y/N's melodious giggle from where her face was pressed against my body, sending delicious sparks of happiness across my frame. Outside of that, her only response to my statement was nuzzling deeper into my body -- a welcome action that I easily reciprocated. My eyelids closed as we settled ourselves into a comfortable silence, content to simply be in one another's presence. I hummed, utterly at peace with my current position, when I heard a tiny mewl from nearby.

Opening just one eye, I saw a curious little face near mine. Tigger had evidently decided it was now safe enough to venture close to where Y/N and I laid. He was pawing hesitantly back and forth across my lap, eyes assessing me with tentative curiosity as he made tiny circles around my stomach. I chuckled at the feeling of his impossibly tiny paws kneading my lower belly as he settled into a lying position. Y/N opened her eyes at my amused chuckle and shot me a sheepish grin.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I can take him somewhere else. I think Peter's around, he'd probably watch him for a bit."

I shook my head, placing a small kiss to her forehead and placing a hand on Tigger's ears.

"It's alright love. I meant what I said when I was sorry -- he didn't do anything wrong, he simply wishes to be around you as much as possible. Obviously, that is a trait we both share, and I think I could expend a bit more energy in attempting to bond with Tigger." I answered genuinely. The kitten purred loudly in response, inching his body further up my chest until he was resting just beside Y/N's face. He closed his eyes sleepily, and curled into my body constantly as he slept.

Y/N grinned widely, her lovely face alight with such genuine love and glee that I was taken aback at her beauty. She placed a sweet kiss to my lips in thanks before returning to her place on my chest. I closed my eyes once more, smile firmly in place as I lied quietly and revelled in the peaceful moment.

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Enter the Nomicon - Chapter 14: Blood Spilt

Red. It clouded his vision. A strong, bitter and sulfurous smell filled his nostrils to the point where it was almost suffocating. The entirety of this was unpleasant. What was this exactly? Nomi couldn't tell, in fact, he couldn't recall anything that had mounted up to whatever was going on. He had no idea where he was, nothing. It all was just a blur.

It kinda felt like swimming in the ocean, except, it felt even lighter, almost completely weightless, engulfed in a sea of red. It was almost calming, which is what surprised Nomi the most. Everything just felt calm and relaxing, despite the mild discomfort. That didn't seem to be right. Not at all.

Something was wrong, terribly wrong. But what? What was wrong? What unsettling and unsavory thing was transpiring? Nothing felt right, that deep peace Nomi felt had seemingly vanished, replaced by a sense of wrongness, like the world was being torn apart, piece by piece. That dull ache of discomfort itched at Nomi, the red that filled his senses suddenly made him feel weak, vulnerable, scared, and alone.

But why?

...

The hideous scream echoed loudly throughout the halls of Norrisville High, causing the school to tremble to its very foundation.

Both Randy and Howard looked to each other with wide, panicked gazes. Neither teen had an explanation as to what was making this blood curdling scream.

"Howard!"

"N-ninja what's going on?!"

"I-I don't know!"

The two stumbled about, unable to keep their balances. Randy crashed into an empty desk, as Howard tripped over a chair, before landing on top of the still unconscious body of Mac Antfee.

As the scream passed, a sharp, biting sting tore into Randy like billions of needles pricking his body mercilessly. He gripped the edge of the desk with one hand, in order to support himself, while the other gripped at his stomach. As he forced himself upright, a pained gasp escaped him, only muffled by the ninja mask.

"H-aah."

Randy could only squeeze his eyes shut as pain spread all throughout his body.

"N-ninja?!"

Howard's voice could barely be heard.

"Ninja, look at me--say something!"

Randy forced his eyes open, and stared up at Howard dazedly.

"H-Howard?"

The pain began to slowly subside, though it was still painful for Randy to move normally, his tummy extremely tender.

"Ninja, you're glowing!"

Randy blinked owlishly, his movements and thought process seeming slower than usual.

"What?"

"I said you're glowing! You're completely red!"

Randy nodded distractedly. He couldn't quite register what Howard had just said.

"Cunningham?"

In any normal circumstance, Howard would never use Randy's last name when he was wearing the suit, but this was certainly not a normal circumstance.

Randy stared at Howard in a daze. He hadn't even bothered to scold the chubby teen for using his name.

"Something's wrong...I-I have to find Nomi."

"Are you insane?! The book can take care of himself, just wait here!"

Randy hesitated, before shaking his head.

"No, I have to find him...Whatever just made that scream...Nomi might need my help."

Heatedly set on searching for Nomi, Randy pushed himself completely away from the desk, wobbling slightly.

"Well, what do I do with him?!"

Howard gestured to the unconscious Mac Antfee lying on the ground between them.

"Just...keep an eye on him. You hit him pretty hard, so I don't think he'll get up any time soon."

Howard scowled, before looking down at Mac, then reluctantly nodding.

"Fine, but hurry it up."

Randy nodded.

"Thanks, buddy."

Howard huffed as Randy charged ungracefully out of the room, using the wall as support.

Suddenly, the body lying in front of Howard began to stir.

...

For the most part, the school seemed entirely deserted. The halls were littered with papers, notebooks, pencils and bags. Clearly everyone had left in a hurry.

The further Randy walked, the more on edge he felt. He felt vulnerable, and with every creak and shudder the school gave, the more it unsettled him, making him even more paranoid about his surroundings. It almost tempted him to pull out his sword, however, he refrained from doing so. It wouldn’t make a difference anyway. Randy wouldn't be able to hold it, let alone use it.

As he ventured further down the hallway, he noticed how much more destroyed the classrooms were. Had he and Mac made this much of a mess? Randy glanced over a scorched piece of building and shook his head. No, no they hadn't.

Suddenly, before Randy could have a chance to even blink, a burst of colorful doodles flooded the hallway. They burned everything they touched, reducing them into nothing more than ashes.

Randy was unable to move away fast enough. He squeezed his eyes shut, expecting the burning sensation of fire to rip through his body and burn him to a crisp, but it never came.

Daring to open an eye, Randy found himself staring face to cover of what looked like a tiny, colorful doodle of Nomi in book form, complete with tiny stick figure arms and legs. For a moment, he stared at the little doodle dumbly, before it suddenly began to nuzzle Randy's cheek.

Randy froze in surprise, he wasn't sure what to do, so he allowed the act, which was soon added by other doodles that began rubbing themselves against his body.

A light feeling of warmth began to spread throughout his body, seeping into his very veins. Any pain Randy had previously felt slipped away, until there was no pain at all. He flexed his fingers curiously, still feeling no pain. The tiny doodles seemed to sense this as they all pulled away. The Nomicon doodle lingered for just a second longer, before it too floated past Randy, and finally fading away into nothing. He glanced down at his hands, and found that he was no longer covered in stank.

To Randy, the entire transaction was odd to say the least.

“What the juice just happened?”

Randy didn't have much time to ponder over it, before suddenly--

"Hello, nice wad."

Randy had barely managed to turn around before something smacked him hard against the side of his head. He was sent stumbling to the ground, stars dancing in his eyes. He could feel Mac's presence looming over him. Randy turned his head as best he could to look up at him. The man held a wicked smirk on his face. Randy saw a large wooden board in his hands.

Mac raised it again, before bringing it down upon Randy. Darkness overcame his vision.

...

A deep groan.

"Hmm, I think he's waking up. Good, I thought you killed the brat."

Randy shifted, his eyes beginning to adjust.

"Too bad, it would've made things easier. Ah well, fucking with him is gonna be even better."

His muscles ached, and his head stung.

"Uuugh..."

Randy moaned out. He turned his head to the side, and at first could only see a wall, but soon someone stepped into his view. Randy's eyes widened as the Sorceress stood before him. She gave him a smile that could rival the Cheshire cat's.

"Hmm, for such a puny little rat, you've caused quite a bit of trouble. I suppose I can't complain though, you being such a weakling made it easier for us. The Norisu brat wasn't all that much different either. Shame, I expected more of a fight from the worthless worm."

Randy began to tremble violently,

"W-what?"

The Sorceress's smile grew wider, but before she could utter another word, a deep growl resonated from somewhere Randy couldn't see. She began to giggle and coo.

"Oh, it seems he's quite the impatient one."

Randy swallowed. He tried craning his neck further to see what the witch was talking about, but to no avail. What was holding him down?

Randy felt added pressure on his back, and he let out a sharp gasp of pain.

"What, excited to see Teach?"

Oh. Right, Mac. Oh no, Howard! He'd told him to keep an eye on Mac! Did he do something to him?!

Randy began to squirm around vigorously.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"L-let me go! LET ME GO!"

Mac chuckled darkly. He lifted his foot from the small of Randy's back before viciously stomping down on him between his shoulder blades. Randy cried out.

"I believe it's time we ended this. No need to prolong this brat's time."

The Sorceress scowled, clearly more intent on finishing things up quickly. She knew that if the young ninja somehow managed to gain some form of upper hand, it would all be over, and their plans would go down the drain.

"Aw c'mon, I'm just getting started! I want this stupid fucker to pay. Let's just have a little fun with him. Besides, the 800 year old newspaper isn't gonna be any trouble, now that he's under your control. Besides, I have the mask."

“WAIT WHAT.”

Randy's eyes shot open, his pupils shrunk. No, it couldn't be!

The Sorceress eyed the purple haired teen tentatively. The idea was much too good to simply pass up. The ninja had been a thorn on her side for centuries. And now, the opportunity to make him pay was practically laid out in front of her. Even better, she had the right weapons for the job.

"Hmm, I guess we aren't in such a rush. And this could be the perfect chance to practice my control over the Nomicon."

Her eyes glistened wickedly as she spoke.

Meanwhile, Randy's heart was beating madly against his chest. He was in a full fledged panic. They know who he is, his secret identity exposed, and Nomi was sta--

Snap!

The Sorceress had snapped her bony fingers, and instantly a blur of black and red was at her side.

Mac Antfee removed his foot, lifting Randy by the scruff of his shirt, shoving him face to face with what had become of his teacher.

Nomi's body was long and slender, with short, muscular legs, each equipped with long red talons. His snout was long with two feelers on either side of his cherry red nose, and a small beard grew on his chin. On top of his head sat a set of antlers and a mop of long, red hair that ran from the top of his head and ended at the tuft on his tail. The entirety of Nomi's body was coated in impenetrable black scales, and a cream colored underbelly with the glowing red symbol of the Norisu Nine engrained at his chest.

"Nomi..."

His name was all that he could manage to muster.

The Sorceress cooed as she ran a sickly green hand against the smooth scales.

"Yes, he'll wreak havoc upon this pathetic town, and soon the world will be ours. Hellion, destroy this pitiful building."

"No, Nomi don't! NO!"

Nomi ignored Randy's pleas. He snarled, baring his large fangs, smoke pouring out of his mouth and nostrils. He then turned to the nearest wall, and without batting an eye, released a powerful torrent of colorful doodles that acted like flames, eating away at the wall and anything beyond that with ease. He then rammed his antlers against the smoldering room, destroying any surviving material, before moving on to the next room, all within a matter of seconds.

Randy could only watch on in horror, before he was promptly shoved against the wall, away from Nomi. He could just imagine Mac was grinning from ear to ear.

Randy squeezed his eyes tightly shut as Mac Antfee began to beat him. He was punched numerously against his head, before being thrown like a ragdoll against the cool tile. One of his eyes was swollen and black, blood leaking profusely from his nose.

"You were such a fucking pain in my ass, kid. You don't even deserve that mask. I'M the best ninja that old twink has ever taught. You're worthless compared to me! Do you hear that?! WORTHLESS! And I know you like him. It’s almost painful with how obvious it is. But you know what?"

Randy swallowed a sob as Mac kicked him in the stomach.

"He doesn't care about you. He just sees you as some poor kid who's stuck doing his dirty work."

Another swift kick, this time to Randy's ribs.

"You're nothing to him. You're just a replaceable pawn!"

Mac grabbed Randy by the throat, lifting him up high. He began to squeeze, barely allowing any air to pass through his lungs.

"He won't miss you, let alone love you. I almost feel sorry for ya. Too bad I'm gonna fucking kill you."

"N-Nomi!... NOMI!..NOMI HELP!...PLEASE-!" Randy rasped out desperately.

Mac snickered, he watched, utterly amused, before digging his nails harshly into Randy's neck, cutting off almost all air from his lungs, leaving the teen gasping.

"The book isn't gonna do a thing to help you now. He belongs to us now."

Randy's hands shot out and grabbed at Mac Antfee's hand, trying to pull it away, but it didn't budge.

The Sorceress watched the display, a sense of sickening satisfaction crossed her wrinkled face.

...

Nomi had gone far off down the hall, far away from the brutal beating of his student. He had already destroyed nearly a third of the nearby classes in less than a few minutes.

He could hear the sounds of a fight, and despite his mind being completely under the control of the Sorceress, some form of curiosity entered his mind, and he found himself twisting back around down the hall from where he'd previously come from.

Nomi couldn't quite place why he was so interested in the sounds of the skirmish, yet continued on, ignoring his previous orders to destroy.

It was odd, but even the idea of destroying things was actually quite foreign to Nomi. Why did everything feel so off? So wrong?

Nothing made sense.

Nomi marched on as he tried to make sense of everything, but it was as if something was preventing him from doing so. But what and why? He couldn't say.

"N-Nomi!"

Nomi froze.

"... NOMI!.."

Who was that? Why were they calling for him? They sounded familiar...

"NOMI HELP!...PLEASE-!"

This time, something snapped. It hit him like a ton of bricks, reality came pummeling down on Nomi. The deep red veil that had clouded his mind vanished. He remembered. The fight that had broken out between himself, Randy, the Sorceress, and Mac...the rage that led to him getting stanked.

A deep bubbling anger flared through his mind, and Nomi suddenly began to barrel his way down the ruins of the demolished hallway with no signs of stopping.

…

Mac watched as Randy struggled, slowly suffocating within the tips of his fingers. Just like the Sorceress, a swell of satisfaction puffed inside his chest.

Randy's mouth fell open as he despairingly tried to breathe in any air he could, but Mac did not allow him. He squeezed just enough to cut off all air supply to his lungs, and when the man relented enough to let him take a breath, it simply wasn't enough. Randy could feel his eyes beginning to roll backwards as the lack of air was causing him to slowly lose consciousness again.

He knew that it would be permanent this time.

Seconds passed, and Mac did not give Randy the relief of even a small amount of breath. His grip on Mac's hand weakened.

“This is it,” Randy thought, “this is where I'm gonna die.”

Just as Randy was about to pass out, a loud snarling roar startled Mac, causing him to release Randy's neck, just barely enough for the teen to breathe. And the man was almost instantaneously torn away from him.

Everyone, even the Sorceress, seemed shocked.

Mac was on the ground, utterly terrified as Nomi hovered over him, pinning him down with one large clawed hand, his long red talons threatening to pierce the skin on his chest.

Randy wheezed, as he took desperate gulps of air, coughing every few seconds. He laid there limply, his eyes closed and tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. Small sobs escaping him.

Mac squirmed underneath Nomi, staring up at the ancient being with a fearful gaze.

Nomi leaned down, a resonating growl erupted from his maw, and he bore his long fangs, clearly intent on using them.

The Sorceress, who had been watching the entire display, acted fast. She created a ball of pink energy and aimed it skillfully at Nomi, hitting him dead on, causing the dragon to rear up, releasing his hold on Mac. The ginger haired man wasted no time to scramble away. He reached behind him and pulled out the stank covered katana, the Sorceress joining his side.

"YOU FOOL! I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN TO NOT HAVE LISTENED TO A WORD YOU SPAT OUT! THE NOMICON IS NO LONGER IN MY CONTROL!" The Sorceress snarled.

"Then get him back in your control!" Mac hissed back.

Before the Sorceress could retort, a large billow of colorful doodles smacked her, sending her flying down the end of the hall. She was out, cold.

Mac stared after her, in complete shock, before turning back around in front of him. That was a huge mistake.

Nomi's reptilian tail swung out at Mac like a whip, snatching his katana from his grip.

Randy watched quietly, having at some point managed to push himself into a slumped, sitting position against the wall. To him, it was like watching a scary movie, as the monster was being cornered, getting ready for the final stretch of the film.

Unfortunately this was no movie. This was real.

As Nomi lunged, Mac darted around the mouth full of teeth, just narrowly escaping by a hair. He hastily went for his katana, which sat an inch or two within the tips of his fingers. However, Nomi was quicker. Like a rubber band, Nomi snapped around faster than a whip, snapping his large jaws onto Mac's hand.

Mac Antfee hollered loudly in sheer pain, before being tossed into a pile of rubble.

Randy watched in silent horror as Nomi opened his bloody jaws, preparing to enlist a final blow, but just before he could, a pink blast hit him squarely in the jaw.

Nomi roared angrily, turning to the source of the offending blow. The Sorceress.

Nomi narrowed his eyes darkly, and was quickly upon her in seconds.

Having been unprepared for Nomi's speed, the Sorceress was useless in fighting off the redhead's devastating attacks.

Randy continued to watch, breathless, as Nomi unleashed ferocious attacks with brutal force and absolutely no mercy.

Suddenly, a deep grunt of pain caught his attention and instantly, fear swarmed his mind.

Mac was slowly getting back up onto shaky feet, one hand bleeding profusely, the other grasped at the glowing green katana tightly. He began to stagger towards Randy. A maniacal grin was stretching itself across his face, eyes wide and wild.

He began to laugh.

"I'm gonna finish what I started. And there's nothing he can do to save you now."

Randy pressed himself against the wall. He felt small, compared to Mac, as he loomed over him. Randy whimpered as Mac grabbed at his throat again, lifting him up high, his body pressed against the wall. Randy closed his eyes as Mac began to squeeze his neck again.

Mac chuckled softly as he slowly raised his katana, before plunging it straight into Randy's stomach.

Randy threw his head back, his mouth fell open as he let out an odd, strangled cry that quickly fell silent as Mac tightened his grip on Randy's neck, his dark grin only growing at the sight.

...

Howard moaned out pitifully, his face stung, and he was more than sure his nose was broken.

The last thing Howard could recall was Mac getting to his feet. Howard had tried to call for Randy to come back, before he felt a sharp cuff to his face that rendered him unconscious.

For how long was he out was a mystery that seemed like too much work to ponder. He simply hoped that Randy was okay. That way, when he saw him again, he could slap him, because holy cheese, he was left alone with that maniac!

Howard huffed in annoyance at the thought. He then pushed himself back to his feet, but only to be knocked back down again.

The entire school began to tremble, sounds of destruction radiated off throughout the halls. It was almost like an earthquake had hit.

Howard gripped at a desk and pushed himself up.

Random chips and pieces of the ceiling began to dust his hair, which he brushed off in aggravation. He turned to the rest of the room, and could tell that Mac was definitely long gone, and Randy still hadn't come back yet.

Wait.

“CUNNINGHAM!”

Randy wasn't back, the whole school was shaking, and oh my cheese there's some huge monster outside the room.

Howard froze at the sight of what looked to be a black dragon passing by. The large beast appeared to be in deep thought when--

"N-Nomi!"

The dragon paused, raising its head just slightly, before moving closer to the source of the voice.

Howard's heart skipped a beat. That had sounded like Randy.

"... NOMI!.."

It started to walk faster, ears perked up in alert.

"NOMI HELP!...PLEASE-!"

Then it started to run. The large dragon was a blur, and was gone in seconds.

Wait. Was that-? No, it couldn't be the book? Could it?

Howard decided he wasn't going to wait and find out, he had to go after it before it could get to Randy.

With that, Howard made his way into the hall.

...

The taste of iron intoxicated Randy's mouth. His lungs cried out for air, and the urge to vomit attacked his insides. It didn't help that a sword was literally hacking at him either, even more so when the sword wielder was twisting it around.

Randy could only squirm around weakly. He couldn't even call out to Nomi anymore.

"You know what, nice wad? You're absolutely pathetic. If ya had just given me the mask, I wouldn't have to kill you. But you just had to play the hero, huh?"

Randy could only squeeze his eyes shut as Mac continued to berate him. Tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Are you seriously fucking crying?"

Soft whimpers escaped Randy's bloody lips.

It wasn't the response that Mac had wanted. He slowly slid the the katana out of Randy's gut, and held it up to the teen's bloodied face. Randy squirmed, crying out.

"Look at it."

The young ninja didn't open his eyes.

The ex-ninja ninja scowled darkly at him, before violently shaking him.

"I SAID FUCKING LOOK AT IT!"

Randy whimpered, slowly opening his eyes and peering face to face to Mac's bloody sword. Tears blurred his vision, turning the sword into a smeared blob of red.

"You're so fucking useless, a waste of space. You're the shittiest ninja ever, a huge fuck up. I don't know what Teach saw in you. He must have been desperate."

Randy stifled out a sob.

…

The Sorceress hissed, as wall of colorful doodles nearly burnt her to a crisp. She raised a part of her shroud to shield herself as it passed. She had so far managed to evade most of the Nomicon's more vicious attacks, but just barely. She knew though, that eventually it wouldn't be long before the large dragon would manage to land a hit on her, and she would be thrown into another deadly foray. Thus far she's been on the defensive, and that quickly needed to change. She was already cornered against a wall, her magic useless against Nomi, and she was slowly running out of ideas. She needed to distract the beast.

Her eyes darted around until they landed onto her ticket of escape, the purple haired brat that Mac was currently torturing to death.

The Sorceress grinned darkly, and fell into her usual act of manipulation. Cooing, she narrowed her soulless yellow eyes, lips pursed,

"Poor, poor Nomicon. Do you really believe that you can have that little ninja as yours? You aren't human anymore, remember? Any form of humanity you show is simply an act you put up to fool everyone around you. Now, you've even managed to fool yourself. He will grow old, while you'll continue your miserable existence."

Nomi paused.

"Besides, the boy despises you. He wouldn't have to deal with any of this had you not burdened him with your duty. You've ruined his life, and now he will die, because of your incompetence! I'm sure Mac Antfee agrees, after all, he seems to be having quite a bit of fun torturing your little toy to death."

As the Sorceress said this, she lifted a bony hand and pointed at Mac and Randy, a wicked grin on her face.

Nomi hastily spun around, eyes immediately landing on the two. Mac holding Randy up by his throat, and a blood soaked sword in his other. A large gaping wound decorated Randy's gut and was gushing out large amounts of blood.

Nomi's eyes narrowed, he let out a blood curdling roar, and charged straight to Mac, completely forgetting about the Sorceress.

...

Mac sneered.

"Fucking weak. A damned pathetic, cock sucking brat."

Randy closed his eyes, his mouth fell open as strangled sobs left him.

"You and your fat fuck of a friend. Can't believe he wants you."

Randy's eyes shot open. He tried to mouth a 'what?' to Mac, but Mac simply rolled his eyes. He seemed bored, and even mildly disappointed.

"I think I'm just gonna wrap this up. You're such a damned crybaby, not even worth my time--"

A loud roar cut off the rest of Mac's sentence. He turned to where he guessed was the source, but immediately found himself being bulldozed away, releasing his grip on Randy.

The man's eyes were wide with fear, and his mouth wide open as a pained, gurgled cry escaped him. Nomi's antlers impaled right into his arm, ribs, thigh, and cheek, barely missing the temple.

With brutal ferocity, Nomi snapped his head in an effort to shake the man off, and once he did, Nomi began to violently tear into Mac Antfee. With no mercy, Nomi began to tear him to shreds, viciously tearing off an arm.

Randy laid where he was dropped, his own blood already pooling around him. He'd already lost a good amount before. It was a miracle he hadn't passed out yet.

He took in deep and heavy breaths, savoring each swallows of air he got. His vision, though blurred by his tears, and one eye swelled shut, it didn't completely hinder him from the the grizzly scene that was playing out before him.

Mac was shrieking loudly, painfully, as the sounds of his flesh being torn apart could be heard.

Randy shuddered at the sounds, disgusted.

His whole body ached, his face especially stung, but indescribable pain spread from his stomach. This entire moment seemed so unbelievable, like something from a nightmare.

Was this a nightmare? Wasn't he going to wake up and find himself in his own room?

The Sorceress, in all her centuries of existence, was actually mortified by Nomi's gruesome performance. She needed to leave now, unless she wanted to end up like Mac, but first, she needed to grab something, something important.

Making her way around the Nomicon in silence. She stopped by a seemingly insignificant pile of rubble, and pulled out the Ninja mask. Originally, the witch had been willing to hand it over to Mac, so long as he kept up with his end of the deal, which was to help her gain control of the Nomicon. Of course, that clearly wasn’t what was happening, and that being said, the Sorceress decided that this was her time to take her leave.

...

Nomi had made quick work of Mac. What was left of him was barely recognizable to anyone.

Randy stared weakly up at his teacher, and for the first time ever, he actually felt afraid of Nomi.

The older male slowly turned to him, his jaws dripping with Mac's blood, and he began to make his way towards Randy.

Not sure whether or not Nomi would attack him, Randy hastily reached into his pocket and fished out his wallet. With trembling hands he dug around and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

Nomi paused, watching in curiosity as Randy began to unfold it, before holding up the parchment. It was the painting of Nomi and his siblings.

Nomi blinked, he stepped closer. His voice was soft, almost gentle, but still came out as an inhuman rasp.

"RAnDy? ....bROtHerS AnD SisTeRs...HOw...?"

Nomi carefully pressed his nose against the ancient painting, sniffing it lightly. A purr emitted from his throat, and he laid his head on the bloody tile in front of Randy.

Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes. What had he just done? Something unforgivable, sick, and brutal. It was wrong and selfish, worse, Randy had to witness it all, endure through it all.

The black dragon let out a shaky whimper, a puff of air escaped him, and with it so did the stank.

Randy watched as the red air slithered away, out of sight. He turned his gaze back to Nomi, and stared in silence as the older teen reverted back to his normal self.

"I'm so sorry. Randy, I...I'm so sorry..."

Tears rained down Nomi's cheeks as he continued to vainly blurt out undecipherable apologies. He buried his face into Randy's chest.

Randy smiled, he opened his mouth as if to say something. It was weak and soft.

"Nomi...I love... "

But just like that, he trailed off as his vision became black, and he finally passed out.

Nomi hadn't noticed that Randy had tried to speak, too stricken with grief and shame at his own, despicable actions.

He did, however, hear the sounds of distant vehicles, and more than likely they were police officers, ambulances, news vans...the usual group of vultures.

"What did you do?"

The voice startled Nomi, and he pulled away to find Howard standing only a few feet away from them.

"Howard--"

Nomi could hardly even get in Howard’s name, before Howard rushed over and harshly shoved Nomi away. The redhead didn't fight back as Howard began to berate and shout at him.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO HIM YOU BASTARD?!"

Nomi's eyes widened slightly. Did Howard think that he...?

"DON'T YOU TOUCH HIM! DON'T EVEN COME NEAR HIM! IT'S YOUR FAULT YOU STUPID BOOK!"

Nomi winced, but otherwise didn't react. Howard glared at him murderously, before turning away and hastily lifting up his best friend's limp body. He shot Nomi another look as if he wanted to say something else, but decided against it, and ran off.

Nomi cringed as the sound of the school's front entrance slammed shut behind the chubby teen. After that, an unsettling quiet set in.

Nomi's eyes fell upon the painting of him and his siblings that Randy had dropped, and carefully took it into his hands. He clutched it closely, not daring to look at the faces of the people that he clearly disappointed.

He pondered how on earth Randy had come across it.

Nomi knew that he should probably go after Howard and Randy, at least to make sure his student made it to the hospital safely, but he didn't. The words of the Sorceress and Howard echoed through his mind, and he stayed, glued to the floor he was sitting on.

...

Hours passed by, before a gentle but firm hand placed itself onto Nomi's shoulder.

Nomi silently turned to the hands owner and he found himself staring up at a familiar face.

A man wearing a cowboy hat glanced down at him forlornly, his expression grave, yet at the same time, sympathetic.

It was Nomi's "uncle" Charlie. There was very little Nomi knew about the man, for one, his name wasn't Charlie. No one knew what it was, not even his parents knew. Two, Nomi and Charlie were certainly not related by blood, but he was a friend of Nomi's family, long before he had been born. Though the southern accented man was still a complete mystery, there was no doubt that he was an ally. How he came to be an ally was a long story, but for another

The point was, "Charlie" cared, and that was that.

Said man carefully kneeled on the ground, avoiding the pool of blood that Nomi was laying on, and wrapped his arms around Nomi. The redhead couldn't resist and returned the gesture, breaking down into loud sobs into the man's shoulder.

It had been centuries since the last time the two had actually embraced, let alone speak. Still, the blossoming familiarity pulled Nomi in and kept him there, until it overwhelmed him. Nomi pulled away and numbly got to his feet, brushing off any other forms of comfort the man offered.

"You gon' be okay?"

Charlie's deep southern voice strung against Nomi, and all the teen could do was shake his head, before walking off.

Charlie stood there, and watched as Nomi walked off, making no movements to stop him.

He simply nodded, and walked off to his own direction.

As Nomi walked off, he tried to ignore Mac's mutilated body, barely resisting the urge to vomit.

He clumsily hopped out a nearby window, and headed into town.

#Enter the Nomicon #ETN #Chapter 14 #story repost #tw: blood #tw: death #tw: violent death #tw: gore

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lord-explosion-baku · 5 years

Text

Yandere Neko!Shinsou x Reader

Warnings: yandere, non-con limey stuff, Shinsou being a bad kitty because he doesn’t understand

A/N: idk enough about neko things so??? I did what I did! Just a quick lil snooot. Enjoy!

You’d just walked out of your local coffee shop when you saw the little tuft of purple sticking out of the snow. At first you’d thought it was an old sweater, and thought ‘who would be crazy enough to take their clothes off in this weather?’ Upon closer inspection, you saw that it was not in fact a sweater but something far more heart shattering.

The little tuft in the snow had been a cat! Scraggly whiskers with dots of snow dust hanging off of them, chilled matted fur, and a half cut ear nearly brought tears to your eyes. When your brushed the snow off its body, it let out an exasperated breath. Alarm bells went off in your head. The cat was alive!!!

The cat had a tight purple collar with the name, “Hitoshi Shinsou,” engraved on it but it had no address or phone number to call. Poor abandoned thing. You’d never brought home a stray before but you’d just lost a cat you had for thirteen years fairly recently and seeing the poor, freezing, and malnourished thing lying in the snow like that pulled at your heartstrings! It would’ve been impossible for you to just let him freeze to death on the sidewalk!

Bundling up the stray, you cautiously placed your coffee against his body so he could have at least something to help warm it up, and you quickly made your way back home.

Cranking the heater up in your condo, something you didn’t usually do to save on energy bills, you sat on your bed and dried the poor creature while you warmed your plushest blanket in the drier. While Shinsou shivered and shook in your embrace, you mentally kicked yourself for not being more level headed in situations like the one you were in. Had you thought about it before, it would’ve been better for you to take him to a veterinarian as soon as you found him but you had acted on a selfish impulse. Intrusive thoughts about having the cat die in your care penetrated your mind but he wouldn’t be any better off out in the cold! And it was a good sign that the cat was even moving… right?

When your dryer went off, you carried Shinsou to your laundry room where you wrapped him snugly in the freshly warm blanket. You’d warmed some diluted milk on the stove and fed him using the baby bottle you used when you had your niece’s over. He suckled on the bottle until it was dry and when you pulled it out of his mouth, he opened his eyes. You nearly fell in love with those gorgeous, vibrant, indigo irises.

From then on, you focused all your energy on nursing poor Shinsou back to health. You kept his coat clean, brushing away at his matts, cleaning up after him (honestly, after he started walking again, he really liked tearing up your toilet paper and it drove you up the wall), and even cooking for him because his scrawny kitten ass would snub his nose at store bought cat food. You didn’t mind any of the chores that came with raising your little cutie though. The little cat that someone just tossed out into the street was going to grow up to be a fat and happy prince because of you!

Shinsou was a little skittish at first. If you wanted to get him to come to you without you forcing your love on him, you’d most likely have to be eating food. He’d purr and paw and knead until you finally gave in and whipped something extra special for him. After giving him his much needed tender love and care, you found that he’d grown used to you and would happily sit in your lap and let you scratch him behind his ears without any beckoning. He’d beckom very affectionate! He was the first cat you ever had that would actually lick you when he seemed especially happy though sometimes when he was feeling a bit more frisky than usual, he would bite you without warning.

He was a curious kitty! You’d often find him digging stuff out from under your bed or going on a voyage through the perilous mountains of your laundry! If he was ever missing, you knew he’d probably just got himself stuck at the bottom of your laundry basket. He was a riot in his own way.

One night while you were staying up too late watching movies you didn’t care about, Shinsou hopped up on your bed yowling loudly for your attention. You scooped him up into an embrace and the calming purrs came to you immediately. He stretched out in front of you, asking to be scratched at the special spot above his tail and in return, he rubbed his cheek on your thighs before curling into you. When your eyes grew heavy, your hand fell to your side and Shinsou meowed in protest, wanting more of your pets.

He climbed on top of you, kneading at your stomach before climbing on top of your face.

“Awww,” you sleepily cooed at your spoiled prince. “Whaddya want?”

He let out another meow before pushing his cheeks against your nose. You laughed at his nuzzling and kissed him on the forehead.

“I love you, pretty kitty!”

Shinsou tilted his tiny head to the side and chirped. Suddenly filled with energy, he skittered off to wreak havoc on your room. You heard your laundry basket tip over but you were too sleepy to care about the mess then. As you drifted off to sleep, Shinsou continued to kitty frenzy.

“Mmmmah,” a foreign noise escaped Shinsou’s throat as he turned over in your pile of clothes. He loved being in there; he loved your lingering scent as well as mixing his scent in with it. You were his, afterall. People had to know you belonged to him but for some reason, no matter how many times he’d rub his scent on you, it always came off. What was it you were always doing? Cleaning? Ridiculous.

Shinsou stretched out his legs and… oh. He felt strange. He turned over in his side and let out a surprised guttural sound when he saw that his gorgeous hind legs were no longer… gorgeous hind legs. Instead, they were like yours but more muscular and a bit hairier. Gross. He liked yours on you but he was perfect the way he was… the way you made him after you saved him. It took Shinsou just a moment to realize something was very wrong.

He moved to the best of his ability to your closet mirror but his movements were slow… gangly… stupid. He gasped when he saw his reflection that shouldn’t be his reflection. He was… like you! A human! Or close to one! He lifted his paws- no!- his hands to the still feline ears sticking out his head. Shrouds of hair crowded into them, agitating him, making him twitch at any sudden movements. At least he still had his tail.

He was wearing your oversized purple sweater, which was even big on him hanging off his shoulders like it was, but it wasn’t all that bad. It was his favorite when you wore it. He could burrow in underneath it with you so he could be close to your body and your warmth. Of course, it didn’t compare to his exquisitely sleek fur but it still made him a tad bit happy.

Not completely understanding how it was that humans moved, Shinsou rolled his way over to your bed and climbed up. If anyone knew how to find a solution to this problem, it would be you. You were the fixer of his many mistakes.

Trying to be as light as he was when he was his normal self, he climbed on top of your sleeping figure. As soon as he saw your face, a soft thrum reverberated through his chest- apparently he could still purr which was a plus!

“Hey,” he spoke, surprising himself. He’d meant to meow but it came out wrong. It tasted weird on his tongue. “Huuuman…”

You were so still. Most of the time Shinsou didn’t mind it when you slept; it meant he could be by your side without you getting any other distractions but he really needed your attention now.

Shinsou leaned down to push his nose under yours, just to double check to see if you were still breathing. You were, of course, but after the first couple nights he spent with you, it became a bit of a habit to check.

“Huuuuuuuman!” You turned to your side, letting your hair fall in your face. Shinsou clicked his tongue in frustration before leaning closer to your ear. Sometimes when you wanted to bother Shinsou, you’d blow into his ears so, taking advantage of his… lips? He began to blow.

You let out a tiny squeak. It was kinda cute? He did it again, rewarding himself with a swift smack in the face. He growled in response, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Human!” He hissed, gripping the sheets around you. His eyes softened when he saw your lips part ever so slightly. Goodness, you were magnificent for a not-cat. He couldn’t be mad at you for being deep in your slumber; you spent so much time and energy doing so many things for him! He’d always showed his appreciation by gracing you with his own heat but maybe now that he’s more like you, he could show you how happy you make him… in a more you way?

He lowered his head down to your exposed neck and whispered, “I love you, pretty kitty,” before dragging his tongue across your skin. You let out a small moan, a noise he’d never heard you make before. Was that supposed to be people’s version of purring? Whatever it was, he liked it. A lot. So he did it again.

“Mmmph,” you started rubbing your thighs together and it made Shinsou feel warm, giving him a tingling sensation below his navel. He rubbed his cheek against your neck and subconsciously dipped his hips, rocking his pelvis against you. The friction felt so incredibly great. You felt great. He grooved against you and gave you another long lick, warranting another moan out of you.

Fuuck, he’d never felt anything like this before. The knot in his stomach and the excitement coasting through his veins was overwhelming but still he needed more, more. He pressed himself hard against you, grinding harshly, nuzzling his head against your soft skin. He breathed you in, your scent intoxicating. Curious fingers trailed down your body and grasped at your hips, relishing the tenderness of your flesh. You were so warm, so good, and Shinsou couldn’t get enough of you. When your hand reached around to grasp at his sweater, god, he couldn’t control himself- he wanted to- he needed to- he… he bit down hard on your neck.

“Aaaha~haah~!” Your nails clawed at the exposed part of his shoulder and that’s when Shinsou hissed. Your eyes shot open and for a short moment, there was a bit of recognition in them, until there were filled with pure terror. You screamed.

Shinsou jumped back, his ears turning down as you leapt out of bed and scrambled to get away from what you thought of as an ‘intruder.’

“Get out!” You bellowed, fiercely throwing a pillow at his head. “I’m calling the cops!”

“Wait-!” Another pillow slammed against Shinsou’s face.

“Pervert!” You yelled.

What in the hell did that mean? “Human, it’s me!”

“What were you doing in my bed?! I don’t know you! How’d you get in here?!”

The light switched on and Shinsou shrunk back down into your bed, afraid to get hit again. Had he been a bad kitty? He didn’t know but he sure as hell didn’t like seeing you as mad as you were. He was only trying to thank you for being so good to him in the most self-indulgent way! He felt completely dejected.

“You said you… you loved me…” Shinsou’s face fell as he nervously grabbed at your sweater, pulling it down to his thighs.

You eyed the weird thing on your bed, the boy with indigo hair, those fake ass ears, and a rather authentic swaying tail. If he hadn’t broken into your house, you’d feel sorry for someone like him; he obviously needed help. Your eyes narrowed when you saw the purple collar tight against his neck. “Why are you wearing my cat’s collar?” You asked, grabbing a heavy candle from your counter. “What did you do to my Shinsou?”

Shinsou scoffed. “I’m not your Shinsou. You’re my human.”

You watched his ears twitch. That wasn’t something that those fake prosthetics were supposed to do. “Where. Is. My. Cat?”

Shinsou’s mouth fell open and you saw four long canine teeth. Your hand went to your neck where he bit you. Those weren’t prosthetics. And one of his ears had the same cut your cat had…

“Wh-who are you?” You asked, seriously doubting the question yourself.

“You know me,” said the weird boy, “my name is Hitoshi Shinsou. I’m supposed to be a cat.”

#bnha x reader #bnha #bnha imagine #bnha reader insert #reader insert #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #yandere shinsou #yandere male #bnha yandere #tw noncon #tw yandere #yandere

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oatsn-honey · 4 years

Text

coughing fits, thick blankets, and mario kart

for @cafeaulate_ on instagram!!

masterlist

ao3

summary: "Kageyama, Shouyou is really sick."When Hinata gets sick on a day off, Kageyama somehow winds up being tasked with caring for him. He has one thing to say -- that boy is a new kind of stubborn. And he's kinda cute. Okay so maybe two things.

notes: this is for my bestie uwu!! for years she tried to get me into haikyuu and i just would not budge!! i wish i had listened to her sooner, because i love these boys sm i swear. i started watching it when i rlly needed a creative pick up, and it came in at the most perfect time-i hope u enjoy!

Kageyama dragged a hand down his face, sighing exasperatedly as he glared at the defiant highschooler in front of him. Why did I think this would be a good idea, again? He groaned before trying again, “Hinata, please, you’ve got to eat something.” Despite his insistence, the redhead would just not listen to reason, turning away from him in his mountain of blankets upon the couch.

“Oh, Kageyama, what a sweet boy you are!” Hinata’s mother, a darling woman, had told him earlier that day, thanking him profusely, little Natsu bouncing in her arms. It was Friday, but a holiday, and she still had to work, and Natsu was still expected at daycare. Normally, something so trivial as leaving your teenage son at home wouldn’t be a worrisome thought, but Shouyou was terribly, horribly sick.

Kageyama couldn’t necessarily blame her for worrying about her child, especially considering how he was. “You can expect me back by 7:30! I left my number on a slip of paper on the countertop -- call me for anything, Kageyama.” Was it too late to call her and say that she chose the wrong person? That he was just as troublesome, just as difficult, as her son? Probably, he reasoned.

Breathing deeply, practicing what Sugawara had taught him for when he got riled up during a game, Kageyama approached the small bundle on the couch, speaking gentler than earlier, “Hinata, would you please try and eat something? Your mom made you some soup and she put me in charge of making sure you get something to eat.” Big brown eyes, bloodshot and clouded with fever, turned to look up at him as he hovered over the sofa. Jackpot. Kageyama got lucky -- using Hinata’s mother had been a rewarding play.

So, obviously, it had taken some coaxing, but now Hinata was seated in a dinner chair in the kitchen, that obnoxiously thick blanket that he had been clinging to all day wrapped around his small shoulders. Humming softly to himself (something that makes him feel oddly and uncomfortably domestic), Kageyama warmed some of the soup over the stove before ladeling it into two adorable bowls, decorated with small cat characters that reminded the setter of ‘Natsu’s’ bento.

“Eat up,” Kageyama declared, setting the bowl in front of the shivering Hinata, who honestly looked like death had warmed over him. He had sunken so far down into his chair that his head had nearly disappeared underneath the table. “Eat,” Kageyama insisted, sitting down with an aggressive huff.

“‘M not hung’y though,” Hinata argued weakly, his congestion making him sound strange and closer to Natsu’s age than a highschooler.

The taller boy’s eyes narrowed. “You have to eat -- ‘else you won’t heal and then won’t get to play volleyball.” Kageyama had struck a soft spot (knowingly, of course), and Hinata stared down at the murky broth, face blanched, as he took his spoon into a quivering hand.

After several agonizing minutes, Hinata had eaten a satisfactory meal -- as Kageyama deemed fit -- which amounted to a measly 8 spoonfuls. The decoy’s face had taken on a greenish tint, and perspiration spotted his forward, where his brows were pressed closed together. Patting the smaller teen’s head, Kageyama took the bowl away and began swiftly washing the dishes.

Eventually, they found their way back to the couch. Kageyama settled at one end, Hinata curling up at the other, resuming his huddled position amongst a fort of blankets. The TV played softly, Kageyama watching whatever was on mindlessly while Hinata dozed off, snoring softly, his breaths rattling in his chest.

Not too much longer after that, Kageyama was startled from his daze by a small, pained groan. He looked over at Hinata sleepily, who was clutching at his head, rubbing at his temples. “You good?” The raven-haired boy prodded quietly, tapping at Hinata’s leg gently.

“‘S my head,” He whined between bated breaths, each one catching in his inflamed lungs.

“Come here,” Kageyama beckoned, leaning forward to help Hinata sit up. The redhead flashed him a sceptical look, somewhere between curious, pained, concerned -- constipated, that’s what the expression was. (At least to Kageyama.) The taller boy guided his partner back down, his head coming to rest on Kageyama’s lap. He unfurled the blanket over the sick boy’s quivering body, smiling gently as he snuggled up to the welcomed warmth. Tenderally, he began carding his long fingers through those monstrous tufts of hair, the strands poking out in all directions -- an untamed beast, but unbelievably soft nonetheless. His hair, despite its fiery tenacity to be unruly, was like clouds along Kageyama’s hands.

Hinata hummed in contentment, pushing back against Kageyama’s fingers. However, after several minutes of a gentle, lulling peace, the ministrations had begun losing their effect, and Hinata was flinching at the pounding headache reintroducing itself, his brows furrowing once again. His body grew tenser, and his small hands, fingers wrapped in bandages, clutched at the blankets. “Hey, what’s the matter?” Kageyama stiffened, his voice urgent and oddly panicked.

“Still hurts,” Hinata breathed, jaw quivering just slightly, eyes clenched shut. Fleeting fingers met his temples and began to rub small, familiar circles. The calluses on Kageyama’s fingers, well earned after years of rigorous training and dedication, were peculiarly soothing as they ran over the soft skin of Hinata’s face. Thankfully, after a short while, the small boy finally relaxed enough for sleep to once again invade his senses. His unsteady breathing abated Kageyama’s worry, and eventually he too was able to relax into Hinata’s warmth.

A persistent, but feeble, poking at his jawline is what brings Kageyama back from his tranquil snooze. Before he has time to crack his eyelids open, anxiety is causing his stomach to sink and his mind is racing. Oh god, what’s wrong- Then he feels that reassuring weight settled atop his legs, and his heart rate slows and the panic is dissipating. “Yama?” The small, croaky voice is what allows him to finally breathe.

“Yeah, Hinata?” He peeked open his sapphire eyes and blinked down at the boy staring expectantly up at him. “What’s up?” He lifted his long arms above his head, stretching. He considers himself fortunate that Hinata doesn’t comment on the small squeak that escapes him.

“I’m bored -- will you play Mario Kart with me?” Kageyama knew that Hinata could be random, but he surely wasn’t expecting… that question. “Pleaseeee,” Hinata drawled, making to sit up, only for a small coughing fit to erupt and rack his body, leaving him clutching at his chest.

“Woah, woah,” Now fully awake, Kageyama surged forward, bracing Hinata’s shoulders. After the bout had subsided Hinata shook off Kageyama’s hands, desperately attempting to cooly catch his breath. “Hey now-,” The setter was interrupted by a pair of pleading eyes, staring sweetly up at him. For a moment, Kageyama was beyond confused, but realized what Hinata wanted. “Sure, I’d love to play.”

So, the esteemed first-year genius of Karasuno found himself playing Mario Kart on Hinata’s Wii, the unmanageable decoy still curled into his side for warmth, doing his best to sound menacing whenever he hurled (very, extremely weak) insults at Kageyama, even though his voice broke in a million places and continuously gave out. Already, 4 rounds of Grand Prix had passed, and the countdown for the last race of their 5th had just begun. “I’ll beat you for sure, Kageyama!” Hinata declared, straightening his back just a touch.

Each and every race, Kageyama had come in the top three. And Hinata had always come in dead last, all but once.

“Sure you will, Shorty.”

The race, taking place on the infamous and formidable Rainbow Road, finished with unsurprising results: Kageyama in 1st (naturally), and Hinata in 12th place. “Hmph, that’s what I thought,” The winner puffed, turning towards Hinata as the award ceremony played on screen.

That’s when he saw it: Hinata staring blankly at the TV, Wii remote limp in his hands, his cherry nose twitching upwards, tears swimming in his eyes.

“Hinata?!” Kageyama exclaimed, dropping his remote in shock. Hinata twisted to look at him, a teardrop clinging to the tips of his light lashes.

He spoke weakly, “You’re so mean, Bakageyama. You’re always better than me,” He sniveled, his face scrunched up. Suddenly, a small cry passed his lips, and a storm of fat tears were rolling down his face.

Placing his head in his hands, eyes blown wide and astonished, profanities flew rampant through Kageyama’s mind. “Hinata, I’m sorry,” He tried after calming his thoughts, but the smaller boy simply cried harder, passing off his apology -- it was a miracle he even made one, for heaven’s sake! After briefly pressing his eyes, Kageyama snatched the remote and shut off the obnoxious TV. He gave it another shot, “Hey, listen, if I had known that it was this important, I wouldn't have been so--” He bit his lip, using no restraint, when he accepted that Hinata wasn’t going to pay attention. He heaved a great sigh. “What can I do to make it better?”

Caramel eyes, glimmering with tears, peaked up through messy bangs. “Mean it?”

With a steadying breath, Kageyama answered in kind, “I mean it.”

“Can I get a hug? And go to bed?” Hinata appealed sheepishly, tucking the majority of his flushed (from fever, Kageyama supposed) face underneath the blanket.

Easy enough, Kageyama supposed as he opened his arms wide, expectantly. Chewing on the inside of his lip, face pressed and tight, Hinata shuffled forward and into his embrace. He exhaled shakily, clumsily, thankfully relaxing into Kageyama’s chest. The majority of his weight was released as his body lost all energy, and he smiled softly, the tears drying swiftly upon his pale, ever-so-slightly freckled cheeks.

It came to Kageyama with no surprise when Hinata began drifting off in his arms. Poking the decoy’s arm, Kageyama muttered, “To bed now?”

Still wrapped safely in the thick blanket, Kageyama guided Hinata throughout the house, hand gently (but firmly lest he stumble) on his teammate’s back. A slow journey later, they reached Hinata’s bedroom and the sick teenager was easily persuaded into bed, where Kageyama tenderly pulled the covers up to his chin. After a small cough, Hinata was long gone, snoring softly in that way that Kageyama once found tiresome, but now endeared him to his partner.

“You’re such a mess.” Kageyama came to murmur softly, warmly, brushing away the residual tears upon Hinata’s cheeks with caring fingertips. “Sweet dreams, sleepy head. Get well soon,” He whispered affectionately, closing the door to the boy who had miraculously wormed his way into Kageyama’s fortified heart.

i'm sorry if it's ooc, but i just finished the second season, so i may not have the most accurate grasps on their characters,, aha also obv hinata is more ooc than anything but! if u happened to read the tags, colds can actually activate that part of ur brain that makes u sad and depressed, and so it can cause mood swings! so that's where that bit of drama comes from- this idea came from when i was playing mario kart today and i started tearing up because i was losing lol (i have a pretty nasty cold rn,,,)

anywhosit! i hope u enjoyed reading and that it wasn't too painfully ooc! (i'm kinda worried my friend won't like it ahhh) pls comment if u want to share what u thought!

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#kagehina #kageyama tobio x hinata shouoyu #hinata x kageyama #kageyama x hinata #tobio x hinata #fluff #sickfic #hurt/comfort #snuggling #mario kart #haikyuu!! fanfiction #kagehina fanfiction

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beast-boss-bastard · 4 years

Text

Closeup Headcanons.

01. scalp. |So basically: He’s got a good clean scalp. Nothin dry or falling out, healthy over all. Hair starts from the left and moves right.

02. hair.

He’s got a lotta hair, it grows fairly quick but nothin unmanageable. He’s got a good thick head of wavy hair that makes for one hell of a bed head. Other wise it’s brushed off neatly to the right. Hair kind of climbs down his neck a bit and perks up in the back. He likes to keep the back of his heady a little mowed down so he doesn’t have too much hair weighing on him to make em feel hot n’ sweaty. It thins out a bit around his ears into a softer light material feeling less like hair and more like fur with little tufts poking out from his ears. usually kind of messy and frilly around his ears.

03. forehead.

Nothin much to talk about here. It’s usually covered by his hair anyways.

04. temples.

Probably one of the places he squeezes every now and again when some idiot starts opening their fat mouth. While mostly obscured by hair it’s easy to at least rub one i without sticking your hand through a fat head of hair.

05. eyebrows.

He’s got thick but manageable eyebrows. Grows in a darker color than his hair and naturally curled into a slight glare, nothin he can control which makes it a bit uneasy to look at when he’s got a blank expression. Over all well kept. Appearance is a lot when in a business like this.

06. eyes.

His eyes are orange, a bright ember kind of color which go to a more golden look when magic is in play. They’re usually over shadowed by his hair giving him a rather intimidating stare with the help of those reflective mirrors in his eyes giving them a bit of a glow in the dark. Pupils work like cat eyes going from big black dots to thin slits.

07. ears.

Ears poke out from the top of his head. They’re a bit big and end in a rounded pointed end. Very sensitive to sound and being blown into and usually perked up when possible. Having anything put over them is a quick way to make him uncomfortable. Probably the softest thing on his more notably the back of his ears. Doesn’t appreciate when anything is put into his ears and are generally what gives him expression.

08. nose.

He’s got a good nose on him, not too big, not too small, and it has a great sense of smell. Able to detect anything he’s familiar with up to 20ft. Has a little color on the tip of it and a deep scar that rolls across it giving it a slight indent where the blade had sliced deep. Not noticeable until you give it a closer look though.

09. cheeks.

He doesn’t have bright cheeks but there’s differently some color to it. A few smaller scars have marked them up but nothing serious. Light soft hairs grow faintly on the sides of his cheeks can’t really be pointed out until you feel it for yourself.

10. lips.

he’s got nicely shaped lips, they tend to be a little chapped, has a scar or two running through them and tend to frown when relaxed. Though expressive when he does move them giving him a great wide smile when he needs it.

11. teeth.

He’s got sharp ones folks. Each one of them have a pointed end, His canines are rather big even given a smaller but noticeable second pair on his top row of teeth. As you reach further into his mouth his molars bend inwards in a sharp point. If he managed to get a good bite on anyone those inward facing teeth are bound to at least take a chunk with em. They’re brushed pretty well giving him a good pearly smile.

12. mouth.

He’s got a big mouth. Opens up wider than most humans could ever dream of makes it easy to get around his big canines and lets him shove quite a bit of food in there before his cheeks are full.

13. jaw.

Strong jaw, the kinda jaw that can be a table if need be. Littered with spiked dark red stubble.

14. chin.

I’d say he has a pretty good chin, not huge but broad with a very slight dip in the middle of his chin, nothin to make it too noticeable but it’s certainly there. Also littered with dark red stubble.

15. neck.

(back and front.)

He’s actually got a pretty long neck, it’s thick to match his muscular body and pretty exaggerated in the neck area. Down the back of his neck grows a trail of hair that generally goes from red to a purple color towards the start of his back. Mostly untouched besides a few scars that run up or down from other places.

16. collarbones.

Sturdy collarbones exaggerated by his muscular body. A few scars scrape down the area but nothing serious.

17. shoulders.

(muscles.)

A very stiff and tight area for him. Being top heavy gives him quite a bit of tone up there and the place he tightens up when out in public or at the rink to maintain posture.

18. shoulders.

(joints.)

The shoulders themselves has a good shape to them. Purple fur sprouts from here curling outwards into thick tufts that are well brushed and wavy on his shoulders. Usually put over his clothing. As it goes out towards his arms the fur thins out into red hairs. Probably has some big scars hidden under the fur given it’s a common place to get hit.

19. upper arms.

Upper arms are well built. Hams if you will. Could probably crush skulls i I’m honest. Also littered in red hair that grooms off to the side away from the body. It’s soft and nice to touch. Also littered in a fair amount of scars.

20. elbows.

Sturdy and well callused things rough all around really.

21. forearms.

Maintains the same kind of muscle his whole body has. The tops of his arm and around the wrists is where his fur grows bleeding out a bit onto his hands. Wavy purple fur sprouts and grows up his arm a ways before breaking into red arm hair. Usually strapped down by bandage wrap and arm guards.

22. wrists.

His fur grows around his wrists. Nothing much else to say.

23. palms.

(front and back.)

His palms are rough, super calloused with a few scars cut into them. Big hands.

24. fingers.

(all of them.)

Rouged up. Quite a bit of scars litter around the area, skin is thick and calloused on the undersides.

25. shoulder blade.

Fur sprouts out from the upper shoulder blades and towards the middle of his back. But thins out as it gets lower down his spine. Not super pronounced but noticeable when visible.

26. breast / upper chest area. *

He’s got good tiddie. Strong solid pecs take up the chest area somewhat scarred up with a range of deep and light ones. And of course two nipples, one for each pec.

27. waist.

He certainly doesn’t have a flared waist but it’s not entirely thin. A bit of volume to make up for his thighs.

28. back.

He’s got a strong back. Pretty tight and stiff and hard to get to relax. Down the spine a thin line of fur grows along it. Also a home for many scars. A good amount being pretty deep from assassination attempts.

29. hips.

He’s got good enough hips. Not enough to say he has big hips but enough to let you know they’re their and pretty damn good.

30. groin area. *

If you know you know. :)

31. butt. *

He’s got a decent backside. Nothing huge or bulging but tight and well shaped fills his pants well enough.

32. thighs.

Large muscular thighs, great definition in them but not thick. Though he could still certainly crush melons in them. Trust me on this one. A few scars here and there.

33. knees.

Solid rough knees much like his elbows. Calloused and often bruised.

34. calves.

He’s got defined curved calves to accompany his well muscled thighs giving him a good shape.

35. ankles.

Pretty bony but nothing feeble enough to snap like twigs. Fits well with his well muscled legs.

36. feet.

(heel, bridge, ball.)

he’s got human feet. Only a slight padding under them makes them somewhat animistic. Nothing super noticeable really. They’re fairly big. And he’s got wide flat feet. Nothing too insane mind you but noticeable.

37. toes.

He’s got your average every day toes. Nothin crazy about em. Not long. Not stubby. Just toes.

38. nails.

(fingers + toes.)

He’s got sturdy claw like nails. They’re thick and darkened a bit ending in natural points. They don’t grow out too long but they’re there.

38. stomach. (adding this one cos I felt like I should say it.)

Yeah, of course he has a good 6 pack of abs. But towards the bottom of his stomach is a small bit of fat. A nice good chunk of his muscular stomach at the bottom is rounded out into a nice squeezable bit of flesh. He’s got a small bit of belly there.|

#HC #||-Looks right to me-||#HHHH #this took awhile.#long post

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lloydskywalkers · 5 years

Text

two a.m. tea

This is for the wonderful @kipskiff , who recently did some fantastic art of Lloyd and Nya and Pixal getting tea at two am together, which is a concept I really wanted to write something on, so here we go! This is...technically an AU, because Lloyd and Nya know about Pixal before season 8, but you know what it’s a good AU that should be canon, because I love these three.

Nya is a lot of things, but one thing she definitely isn’t is blind.

(…most of the time.)

So when the new Samurai X crops up, in her armor, and promptly refuses to answer any questions about their identity, Nya spends a week or two flailing about before she gets serious. If someone’s got her mech, no matter how well-meaning their actions seem (saving Lloyd definitely won them points, but still) Nya needs to know who it is. It’s just a safety thing, and with their track record, it’s better to be safe than ambushed and nearly-slaughtered by someone they thought they could trust in the middle of the night.

So Nya cracks down and really starts studying the new samurai, mentally cataloguing the way they talk and how they choose to fight, what weapons they’re picking and the mannerisms they use, and eventually she’s able to pin down who it is — she’s promptly torn between utter shock and wondering why she didn’t think of that earlier, but she thinks she handles it pretty well.

Ironically, Lloyd figures it out five minutes before she does. (Or at least she thinks he does — he looks suspiciously calm about the whole thing, and he’s been the most unconcerned from the start. And he does have a track record with figuring out the identity of Samurai X, so…)

At any rate, Nya’s pretty sure that her and Lloyd are the only ones to have figured out Pixal’s secret, so by the time they all head off on their Find-Master-Wu missions, it’s easy enough for Nya to stop back into town every once in a while and meet up with them for tea at the hole-in-the-wall shop in the rougher part of town that Lloyd picks out for them.

He claims it’s where his uncle used to go sometimes, but Nya’s still too suspicious that Lloyd never entirely outgrew his past to believe that. He also claims that it’s the only place in town to get a decent cup of tea at two in the morning, which Nya is much more inclined to believe.

“-and then he tried to run, likely because he realized he was outmatched, but he must have forgotten we were on the twentieth story, because he tripped over his own feet and ran straight off the edge of the building, still clutching the money as he went.”

Nya grins as Pixal continues to detail her story to them, her eyes lit up brightly as she gestures, looking as enthusiastic as Nya’s seen her. Lloyd is listening in rapt attention, laughing at all the right parts as he sips at his own cup of tea — which very likely has too many sugars in it to be healthy, but what can you do. He’s in his new gi, the bright green one with the stitching she’d seen him working on a while back. It looks nice — it kinda makes Nya want to change up her own gi design, actually, she’s been feeling blues lately, for some reason…

She spares a brief glance at her current outfit, and shrugs. Sweat pants are comfy, and it’s not like she’s here to impress anyone, anyways. It probably looks pretty funny, actually, Lloyd in his gi and Pixal in her armor, then Nya seated between them looking like she just rolled out of bed.

“I like your glasses, by the way,” Lloyd mentions to Pixal, after they’ve finished with her story (she caught the guy about three flights down, which is less than Nya would have let him fall for).

“Oh!” Pixal’s hand drifts to the large-rimmed glasses she’s wearing. “Oh, thank you, I had forgotten I still had them on.”

“I told you they looked good on you,” Nya says, with an air of satisfaction. “You should keep ‘em.”

“Really?” Pixal says, hesitantly. “But I don’t really need them. My eyesight is perfectly fine.”

Nya shrugs. “Kai doesn’t need hair gel.”

“Jay doesn’t need ten blue jackets,” Lloyd chimes in.

“Cole doesn’t need sleeves.”

“Nya doesn’t need Starfarer socks.”

“Lloyd doesn’t need seven of those extra soft blankets.“

“Yes I do, there’s seven nights in a week,” Lloyd defends.

Nya shakes her head. “The point is, you might not need them, but you can want them. And if you want them, wear them! Simple as that.”

“Oh,” Pixal says, turning this over in her head. She finally nods. “I will keep them, then.”

“Nice!” Lloyd raises his teacup. “To Pixal’s glasses, then.”

“Hear, hear,” Nya clinks her cup against his. Pixal looks slightly confused, but she clinks her cup against theirs nonetheless. Lloyd snickers, and Nya leans back, sipping at her cooling tea.

“So, how’s it been on your side?” Nya asks Lloyd, nudging him.

Lloyd’s expression falls a bit, though Nya can tell he’s trying to look content about it. “Oh, it’s good,” he says, his cheer sounding forced. “There’s, um. There’s some late nights and stuff, but it’s not…it’s not bad, or anything. It’s good. Good times.”

Nya trades looks with Pixal.

“That was a terrible lie,” Pixal says, turning back to him.

Lloyd buries a hand in his hair, leaning back. “Ugh, fine. It’s a little lonely, that’s all, okay?”

Nya’s heart dips, and she bites her lip. It’s been lonely on her side, too, traveling the countryside by herself, but Lloyd has always taken that sort of thing harder.

“You know you can call us whenever, right?” Nya reminds him. “And Pixal’s here too, if you wanna talk to her,” she adds, as Pixal nods.

“Yeah, I know, it’s just-“ Lloyd sighs. “I dunno, it’s harder to enjoy stuff when it’s just you,” he mumbles, shifting his teacup in a circle on the table. “And like, I love protecting the city, but it’s a little more difficult to do it on your own.”

“I actually miss the guys and their dumb catchphrases, too,” Nya admits. “It is less fun on your own, huh.”

Pixal looks between the two of them. “I’ve never been part of that,” she says. “So I cannot empathize, I’m afraid.” She sighs, brushing a tuft of silver hair from her face. “I do wish to experience it someday, though,” she says, quietly.

“You should join up with us, then!” Lloyd says, eagerly. “When the guys get back, you can be on the team too-“

“Lloyd,” Nya says, quietly. Lloyd looks at her, then at Pixal.

“O-only if you want to, that is,” he says quickly, deflating a bit. “If you wanna…reveal yourself, and stuff. It’s up to you.”

“Thank you for the offer,” Pixal says, smiling slightly. “I’ll consider it. But in the meantime-“

The TV in the shop corner suddenly scratches, warbling out the tinny alert of a news update as a reporter’s harried voice comes through.

“-violent activity in the northwest city quarter again as another bank is hit, suspected to be attributed to the recent rise in biker gangs. Police are on their way to the scene as we speak-“

“In the meantime…” Nya mutters. She meets Lloyd’s eyes, then Pixal’s. She carefully sets her cup of tea down. “Anyone up for a little team bonding right now?”

Pixal and Lloyd look at each other. “Yes,” Pixal replies enthusiastically, standing. “Let’s go kick butt!”

Lloyd’s face splits into a grin. “Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!” he says, shooting up from his own seat. “Let’s show these guys who’s boss. The uh - the bosses. Multiple bosses, ‘cause there’s three of us.”

Nya snorts, but she stands as well, shouldering her katana as she does. Looks like she’s fighting crime in sweatpants tonight.

“Was that too assertive?” Pixal whispers to Nya, as they trail out of the restaurant.

“Nope!” Nya grins proudly. “You’re doing great. Kicking butt is the number one ninja requirement.”

“Oh, good,” Pixal says. “Samurai, as well?”

“Pix,” Nya says, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “Here’s the thing you gotta remember. Ninja kick butt. Samurai? They do it better.”

*********

There wasn’t really a conscious choice, per say, to split their team up like they did — a lot of it ended being convenience, timing, Jay and Cole arguing so much nobody else wanted to deal with them, and that sort of thing — so it’s not like it was a purposeful decision that Nya and Lloyd got stuck on solo missions.

Well, just Nya gets missions, really. At least she gets to travel, and stuff — Lloyd is stuck babysitting Ninjago City on his own, which is slightly funny and even more concerning, because Lloyd should not be babysitting anyone when he’s the one that needs babysitting.

(Look, Ninjago City has never claimed it was “perfectly fine” after taking a crowbar to the head, then tried to double-flip over to the next building and ended up nearly cracking its skull open on the dumpster it fell into instead.)

(Lloyd has…a questionable track record, that’s what Nya’s trying to say.)

So it’s more than a little relieving that Nya knows Pixal is there to keep an eye on him.

“-I mean, what if she hadn’t been there, Lloyd?” Nya says accusingly, as Pixal carefully wraps Lloyd’s wrist from where she sits across the table from them. “What were you gonna do? Take another twenty fists to the face?”

“Id wasn’ twen’y fisds,” Lloyd mumbles into the napkin he’s got pressed against his nose, which is just barely not broken.

“It was certainly close,” Pixal pauses and frowns, studying Lloyd’s wrist before continuing to wrap it. Nya gives Lloyd a pointed glare, and he wilts into the booth.

They’ve chosen a 24-hour breakfast diner this time, one of those ones that looks like it’s been there since the dawn of time and will likely be there until the end of the world itself. The circular lamps that hang above their table cast them all in an odd yellow lighting, that makes Pixal’s hair look almost blond, and the bright green in Lloyd’s eyes look like it’s glowing. The linoleum floors beneath their shoes are cracked, the walls of the diner coated in plaster layer upon plaster layer that’s been half-heartedly hidden behind old music posters — and this one old picture Lloyd likes that’s got a cat eating a bunch of pancakes.

It’s around four in the morning when they meet there — because that’s when Pixal yanked Lloyd out of the drug bust — so their only other companions in the joint are heavy-eyed truck drivers and half-conscious people who are probably regretting hitting up as many bars as they did. It’s nice, though, because the employees seem like they’ve served hell itself with a bored expression, so no one really looks at the two ninja and a samurai crammed into the vinyl booth twice.

Lloyd pulls another bloody napkin away from his nose, making a face as he replaces it with a new one. “I’m fine, ‘kay,” he says, voice muffled as he winces, trying to stop the blood flow. “Id’s nod a big deal. I had id handled.”

“I hope that isn’t what you all consider ‘having it handled’,” Pixal says, gently tying off the bandages around Lloyd’s wrist. “There. All done. Ah, I believe that ice helps alleviate the pain, if you wish to…?”

“Yeah,” Lloyd flashes Pixal a small grin — Nya cringes at the blood on his teeth — as he takes the napkin-wrapped ice from her and sets it against his wrist. “D’anks, Pixal.”

He finally pulls the napkin away, prodding cautiously at his nose before deciding it isn’t going to bleed anymore. Nya gives him another pointed look, and Lloyd sighs, gathering up the bloody napkins and walking them over to the trash can.

“Thank you, seriously,” Nya mutters while he’s gone, rubbing a hand across her temple. “I was so far out, I don’t know what I would have done…”

“Of course,” Pixal says, patting Nya’s hand a little awkwardly. “I will always help Lloyd if he needs it. And I promised you I would keep an eye on him, right?”

“Yeah,” Nya smiles at her. “Thanks. You’ve been stellar.”

Pixal smiles lightly, and takes another sip of her tea. She immediately wrinkles her nose. “This is…not as good as the other place.”

Nya makes a face at her own cup of tea, which is sitting untouched. “Yeah, it’s not the best,” she says, braving another sip. Ugh, nope, hasn’t gotten any better in the last five minutes. “We’re kinda just here for the food,” she says, apologetically.

Pixal shakes her head. “That’s perfectly fine,” she says, as Lloyd ducks back into the booth with them. “Food is good as well.”

She’s spoken not a moment too soon — a yawning server makes their way to them, flipping at his notepad apathetically.

“You gonna get anything to eat?” he asks, sounding like he couldn’t care either way.

“Hi, yes,” Nya speaks up, before Lloyd can. She cuts him a you’re grounded look, which Lloyd sinks lower into the booth at, sulking. “I’ll have the biscuits with a side of bacon. Pixal?”

“I’ll have the, um, biscuits as well, thank you,” Pixal says.

The server nods, scribbling away. He looks back up. “Anything else?”

Nya is highly aware of the plaintive looks Lloyd is giving her.

“…and we’ll also take two chocolate-chip pancakes, extra whipped cream please,” she sighs. Lloyd beams.

Geez, it’s like watching a puppy, she thinks in amusement, studying him. A puppy with hair that probably needs to get cut pretty soon, she notices, watching the way the blond locks now fall into his eyes.

Lloyd remains oblivious to her stare, too busy stacking the little syrup containers into a geometric-shaped tower.

“You better not be using all of those,” Nya says, narrowing her eyes.

Lloyd shifts. “Of course not,” he scowls, but she notices that he very visibly moves the syrup packets closer to him. Nya snatches at them before he can all but sweep them into his lap, and a muffled battle over the packets ensues, with Nya emerging victorious and Lloyd left with a mere two small packets.

Lloyd gives a miserable sigh.

“Here,” Pixal says, sliding the five — five?! — packets Nya had somehow missed over to Lloyd. “You can have mine.”

Lloyd lights up. “Thanks, Pixal!” he says.“You’re my favorite sister tonight,” he says, shrewdly glaring at Nya.

“Excuse me for not wanting you to go into cardiac arrest at the young age of thirteen,” Nya grumbles.

Lloyd turns pink. “I am not thirteen-!” he yelps — and immediately claps a hand over his mouth as his voice cracks. Nya bursts into snickers as Lloyd sinks back into the booth, pulling the neck of his sweatshirt up over his scarlet face.

Oh, Kai’s gonna be so mad if he gets back and Lloyd’s gotten over his awkward voice-crack stage without him, Nya thinks.

Pixal, however, isn’t snickering, or even smiling bemusedly like she normally does when she doesn’t get something at first. Instead, she’s staring at Lloyd with an odd look on her face, almost like surprise.

“Pix?” Nya asks, her laughter dying off. “Everything okay?”

Lloyd looks up as well, emerging from his sweatshirt a bit, rubbing at his bandaged wrist as he does.

Pixal shakes her head. “Yes, I just-“ she blinks, staring at Lloyd again. “You…you called me your sister.”

Lloyd turns a bit pink again. “Oh, uh, yeah,” he says, hesitantly. “Is that - was that okay? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, or anything, I just-“

“No, no, that is not it!” Pixal says, hastily. “I just — I didn’t think you…saw me that way.”

Lloyd’s still pink, but he looks a little less hesitant as he shrugs. “Well, yeah, you’re family, right?” he says, in that innocent way he has, like it’s obvious.

Pixal blinks rapidly, but the start of a smile edges its way up her face. “Oh,” she says, looking down as if to blush. “Right.”

Nya feels a grin edge up her own mouth, watching the happy smile that plays across Pixal’s face as she sips at the tea, Lloyd digging in to the pancakes beside her, still sniffling occasionally but otherwise happy.

Fine, Nya decides. She’ll let him off the hook for this one.

*******

The next time they’re able to meet up is barely in passing, crammed into a tiny shop Pixal spots on the riverfront while on patrol one night. Between the three of them they’ve been hopelessly busy — Lloyd and Pixal have had their arms full looking out for Ninjago city lately, crime having picked up drastically. They keep talking about this new bike gang that’s been showing up, which is apparently giving them both a lot of trouble and a few killer headaches. Nya would offer to take a look into it, but she’s supposed to head out for the rural villages later this morning, and it doesn’t sound too concerning. Lloyd and Pixal assure her that it’s probably just a gang on a vicious streak, that’s all.

They can handle it, that’s the message Nya’s getting. She’ll take their word for it, for now.

The riverfront shop is right where the nicer quarter meets the rougher edge of town, and that’s illustrated in the shop’s decor, gold-trimmed wallpaper run with cracks, the dark wood tables nicked and dented with scratches and scrapes. It’s got a nice view of the river, though, and the tea’s pretty good, so they decide it gets a thumbs-up in their slowly growing list of places to get tea without being immediately recognized.

They get there in the early hours of the morning again — the sun is just peeking over the horizon by the time they start on their tea. Lloyd’s finishing up telling them about Jay and Cole’s last check-in, laughing as he recounts Jay’s reaction when he realized the monastery they’re checking out is on top of the mountain, not at the bottom.

“And how are Kai and Zane?” Pixal asks as he finishes, visibly hiding her interest.

“They’re good, too,” Lloyd says, brightly. Nya knows it’s because he got to talk on the phone with Kai last night — really talk with Kai the other night, which is always good for the both of them. “I think they’re hitting some of the southern villages, Zane was talking about wanting to double-check on some rumors there about crime and stuff.”

“That sounds like him,” Pixal says, fondly. “Thank you,” she tells him.

Lloyd nods, stifling a yawn as he does and rubbing at his eyes. The gesture makes him look younger, but not by much. He’s looking older every time she sees him, Nya thinks with a pang, baby fat almost entirely gone, his voice pitching deeper by the day. Lloyd doesn’t seem to think much of it, but it pulls at Nya’s heart — Lloyd’s been the family baby for so long (he always will be, regardless), and it’s hard to think that he’s actually capable of doing something like growing up. He’s been living on his own, too, so he’s more independent than Nya remembers him. What’s next? A girlfriend?

Nya wrinkles her nose. She can’t imagine Lloyd dating anyone (much less anyone deserving him, at that, but she’s a bit biased).

But Lloyd isn’t the only one to have changed. Pixal looks different too, her hair pulled into a new style today, glimmering little earrings flashing when she moves. She looks like she’s finding out who Pixal is, something Nya had suggested several cups of tea back, and there’s no bittersweet edge in her happiness as she notices that.

“And there’s still no news about your uncle?”

Nya blinks back to the present at Pixal’s question — it’s something she’s been wondering herself.

Lloyd shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says, looking troubled. “I haven’t even heard from my mother yet.”

Nya twists her teacup in her hands, eyebrows furrowing. Misako doesn’t have…a great track record, but she’s at least been steady at letting Lloyd know how and where she is. The radio silence is probably concerning.

“Hey, I’ll keep an eye out for her while I’m traveling, okay?” Nya says, reaching out and briefly squeezing his hand. “I’ll let the guys know, too.”

“Thanks,” Lloyd says, with a weak smile. “Appreciate it.” He glances over at Pixal. “We’ve got the city in the meantime. We’ll make sure it doesn’t burn down while you’re gone, or something.”

“With Kai abroad, I think we’ll have even better chances,” Pixal says with a hint of a smile, and Lloyd snorts.

Nya chews on her lip as she watches them. Lloyd doesn’t just look older, he’s quieter now, too, more subdued. It’s making her heart hurt — and weirdly, making her feel even more protective. Like she needs to stay here for a little longer, keep a closer eye on things, instead of setting out just yet.

Or maybe she’s just tired.

Nya watches him spoon sugar into his cup, and feels a slight flare of relief. At least he’s not totally grown-up.

She glances at her watch, and sighs. Lloyd notices the action, and his face falls a bit. “That time already?”

Nya nods, heart sinking. “I wish I could stay longer,” she says, regretfully. “I mean, there’s another bus I could take this evening, but-“

“Nah, you don’t wanna get stuck in rush hour traffic,” Lloyd says, with all the wisdom of someone who’s spent too much time on the Ninjago streets.

Pixal nods, looking serious. “They’ve closed a few roads for construction, too. You won’t get out for ages.”

“Alright, alright, I see how it is,” Nya grumbles, draining the rest of her tea. “I’ll get out of your hair and let you two get back to running the city already.”

They both burst into protests, and Nya laughs, half-heartedly swatting them away as they embrace her. She lets them hold on for a second longer than usual, though, and perhaps holds on a bit longer herself.

It won’t be that long, she tells herself. Things can’t change that much more any time soon, anyways.

********

It’s a while before they’re able to meet after that, to the point that they almost forget entirely about their late-night tea meet-ups. They spend a good deal of time with each other in the early days of the Resistance of course, plotting against Harumi and Garmadon and trying to piece themselves back together, but they’re far too heartsore for any real conversation, and it’s hard enough getting Lloyd to eat or drink anything during that time.

But they make it through — battered and bruised and slightly worse for wear, but they make it through alive and unbroken. So by the time they’ve made sure all the Sons of Garmadon have been rounded up, and the guys have talked themselves into what’s probably much-needed sleep (Nya hasn’t seen Kai with dark circles that bad in ages), their spirits have picked up enough that they don’t sit in completely depressed and despairing silence at the coffee shop they find that’s miraculously still open amidst the chaos.

They do, however, spend a good few minutes sitting around in utterly exhausted silence, slumped around the battered table.

Nya’s not entirely sure why they’re even here — they haven’t even changed from their Resistance clothes yet, much less slept or showered. And they need it. Nya’s uniform has tearing holes that stretch over her left shoulder and lower arm, and Lloyd’s green uniform is colored black in places where it’s been charred, sporting as many, if not more tears than hers is. Pixal’s armor is dented and dirty, and she’s got her own charred spots from when she crashed the mech into Garmadon.

It’s not like they were trying to escape the recently-returned guys, either — in fact, the only reason they’re not currently with them is because they’re all dead asleep at the moment.

Something, Nya supposes, none of their trio really want to do at the moment.

Lloyd finally stirs, giving a low moan as he stretches, wincing as his shoulder shifts and rubbing briefly at it. Pixal stares into her tea cup as if it holds the answers to the universe, her eyes glassy-looking. Nya herself is about two minutes from face-planting into unconsciousness in her own tea, so she clears her throat, wincing briefly as she speaks up.

“Anyone want food?”

“Mm,” Lloyd hums absently. Pixal shrugs.

Nya tries again. “I was thinkin’ noodles.”

Lloyd gives a loud, sudden snort of laughter, closing his eyes and rubbing his hands over them. “Anything. Anything other than noodles.”

Pixal looks up, less groggy as she smiles ruefully. “I think we’ve had enough of those to last us a lifetime,” she says.

“We’re probably indebted to Skylor for a lifetime,” Lloyd mutters into his hands.

“Nah, those were all on the house,” Nya says. “We can put it on Garmadon’s tab if we want, though.”

Nya wants to bite the words back as soon as they escape her mouth. Bringing up Garmadon is exactly what she’d reminded herself not to do, an error matched only by mentioning Harumi.

Lloyd just lowers his hands though, shaking his head wryly. “Maybe,” he says, quietly. Pixal trades a look with Nya as he goes quiet, and Nya is considering changing the subject to something drastically different when Lloyd speaks up again.

“I think he only eats souls of the innocent right now, though.”

Nya gives a loud snort as Pixal breaks into quiet giggles. Lloyd just grins, an exhausted, weary grin, but one of the more genuine ones Nya’s seen in the last month.

Nya cuts her laughter off just as she feels it turning hysterical, threatening to turn into tears, and Pixal’s dies off soon after. They fall back into silence, but it’s more companionable this time, less horribly tired.

“Thanks,” Lloyd suddenly whispers. Pixal looks up at him, but neither of them really need to ask what for.

“For everything,” he continues, after the beat of silence. “I owe you guys.”

“We only did what you do for us,” Nya says. “Besides, we gotta stick together, us three.”

“That’s what family does,” Pixal adds, and Lloyd gives her a smile that’s only slightly edged in pain.

Their conversation dwindles off again, leaving only the sounds of people crowding the streets outside, sirens and construction and large trucks moving by. The sounds of life are loud in comparison to the unnatural, terrified quiet of the last few weeks, but they blur into a comforting sort of white noise with the soft piano music of the shop. Nya feels her eyes drift shut, bone-deep exhaustion leaving her feeling almost weightless.

“Hey,” Lloyd suddenly says. “D’you think I can still get my car back?”

Nya blinks up at him, opening her mouth then closing it. Pixal frowns, tilting her head.

“Did you get a parking pass?” she says. “I heard they’re strict about that at Kryptarium.”

Lloyd’s the first to give in, bursting into infectious giggles, so terrible as the joke is Nya follows right after, her loud laughter joining Pixal’s. It’s laughter edged in exhausted hysteria and the suppressed emotions of the past weeks, and this time Nya does let a few tears fall, but-

It’s real laughter, the kind that reminds Nya that they’ve won, and that gives the shop a pretty high spot on their list from that alone.

The tea’s not half-bad, either.

#ninjago #lloyd garmadon #nya smith #pixal #my fic

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tafferling · 6 years

Text

An Odyssey for Two

On Soft Paws

> Ao3 | This one’s all fluff. Literally.

Sinvik has a liking for things with big teeth.

Tom thinks the only thing she ought to like that's got big teeth, is him.

This ancient Greece thing was real pretty. Didn’t matter what island they cozied up with, she’d always find it striking. For one, there was always that brilliant, blue water, so clear she itched real bad to go for a swim, even if she wasn’t awfully good at it. Plus, there were sharks.

Sharks, Tom’d told her (shown her, really), were very big fish.

Fish with big teeth.

So no swimming (for now), just a lot of gawking, because this island in particular was an exceptional sort of pretty. It’s beach was white and soft— like most others were, to be fair —lined with the ocean curling up to it in bright turquoise. And on land, everything smelled real good. Fresh and clean, for the most part. Salt, sunkissed air, and spice and flowers— so. many. flowers. Blue, red, yellow, purple, all popping from the verdant green clinging to craggy hills.

Mh. It was all real gorgeous.

Distracting, too, and it preoccupied her while she followed Tom along the crest of a stoney hill. The ridge was lined with trees laden heavily with red fruit, one of which she juggled idly between her hands. She didn’t know what it was called. Just knew that on the inside it had lots of tiny beads that tasted a little sour and a little sweet, and that were fun to throw into Tom’s open mouth. Or on his nose. Or into his eyes. Probably the eyes most of all.

She smirked, tossed the fruit from one hand to the other again, and when it landed in her palm, Tom got attacked.

It came out of a tree.

And it was rather large. A large, puffy scruff of sand coloured fur that hissed and spat and clung to Tom’s back with wicked claws sinking into his shoulders and tearing bloody ruts down his lower back. Tom, ever so eloquently, screamed and cursed up a storm so colourful it rivalled the variety of flowers all around. He also staggered and thrashed around, frantically trying to throw it off. Whatever it was. Though since the thing was on his back, he couldn’t get his swords— and when he tried to reach back, grab it by the neck to maybe tear it off, it bit his hand.

“Fucking shit fuck shit— get it— get it off— what the fuck.”

Sinvik leaned her head to the side.

It looked like a cat. The thing.

A big, fluffy cat.

With big teeth.

Teeth that suddenly glinted— red on white, because there was blood on them —as they headed straight at her. Seemed like the cat had grown tired of riding on Tom’s back, and decided to leap right over his head and at her.

Which was really unfortunate, because she’d stepped out of Tom’s way just a moment ago (what with how he’d been flailing about like a drunk), which’d put her right at the edge of the crest. And the hill was real steep.

It took Tom a while to find her after that. Mostly because her and the large, angry, fluffy cat had found a narrow crack in the hillside and had gone tumbling ass over paw into a damp, cool cave.

“Vik!” she heard him go. Up there, somewhere. Stomping around. “Viiik?! Where the fuck are you?”

Purrr.

Sinvik sighed and folded forward, sticking her nose and cheeks down, right into the soft fluff sprawled out on her lap. Her hands were busy around its ears and neck, scratching and scratching and scratching. Oh yeah, the fluff was heavy on her lap. Had to admit that. The thing had a lot more muscle and bone and meat under all that fur than she’d originally anticipated. And by Elaya’s ample titties, was it loud. She was surprised Tom hadn’t found her by just following the constant purring that’d started when it’d stopped trying to eat her because Cad’his scratches were a lot better than having said Cad’his stab it with her itsy bitsy sword.

Or maybe Tom did end up trailing the constant Rrrr-rrrr-rrrrr-rrrrr , which led him to the hole above her, his silhouette blotting out the sun spilling in around him.

Said hole was up real high. So high, she’d not even tried climbing it, and picking her way through the dark cave had sounded like a whole lot of effort. Especially since she’d banged up her leg on the way down, and unlike other present company, she didn’t heal in a snap. Three snaps, maybe.

“Vik…” he said up there, voice edged with relief. Same relief that seemed to exhale soundly from his soul, right before it was replaced by a jitter of confusion.

And a stab of jealousy.

Almost like he had a bit of an issue with how she was scratching a purr out of that cat-thing. Maybe even being horribly offended by how she’d taken a liking to yet another thing with big teeth. One that wasn’t him.

Yeah, Tom didn’t like that one little bit.

He sneered at it and sized up the stupid pincushion of claws and tiny sharp teeth and hated it in about two seconds.

“That little shit was trying to tear my back off,” Tom said pointedly, folding his arms. “Y’know, in case you missed that…” and he turned around some to show off a very bloody back that – ow – okay, it hurt.

“ I did something like that to you once,” Vik replied sweetly, scratching the lynx behind an ear.

Tom scoffed. “Pff, no, give me a break – you were obviously aiming for my throat, not my back—and besides, that’s really beside the point right now.”

“Don’t have any forgiveness in your heart?” she teased softly.

Oh come on . “ You’re here, aren’t you?” he said just as sweetly, offering a little smile.

She hummed and shrugged and that stupid ugly cat purred even louder like she’d found some favorite spot to scratch.

Tom sputtered as he started climbing his way down into that tiny fucking crevice they’d managed to find their way into, which was definitely tight on his shoulders on the way in. And he threw another look over one of those (very broad, thanks for noticing) shoulders, saw her petting the cat (no, lynx), and snapped, “Will you stop that?”

“Somebody’s jealous,” she whispered in one of the lynx’s tufted ears.

“I’m so much bigger. My everything is bigger. Incomparable, really,” Tom practically blurted, very pointedly landing in front of her to stand over the two of them and put his hands on his hips.

“Mh.”

“Claws are way bigger…”

“Mh…”

“And don’t get me started on the muscles – or the teeth.”

She sighed.

“See, you’re swooning just thinking about them, babe.”

That got a snort out of her, anyway.

So he quickly added, “And my fur – hair – fur, all of it, it’s a lot softer than that wiry old thing.”

“You haven’t even touched her fur.”

“Yeah, because prissy little pussy bit the hell out of my hand when I tried. But hey, I still felt it when it was trying to get a look at my fucking spine—wait, her? ”

“Her.”

“It’s a her.”

“Tom, jealousy doesn’t make you deaf.”

“Of course it’s a her…” he muttered as he abruptly scooped the both of them up in his arms, halfway to make a point that he could. The lynx started, its purring stuttering for a second and pausing in alarm. “Fine, I’ll bring it with us so I can eat it.”

“You’re not eating the fucking cat.”

“Why not? It wanted to eat me .”

“She only didn’t know you’re a werewolf and those aren’t for eating. Isn’t that right?” she asked the cat, very pointedly, giving it a scratch along the back of its head.

Tom actually growled then, deep and loud and ripping up his throat, and the lynx recoiled in terror in Vik’s arms, ears all flat, and looked ready to take a wild swipe at his face. At least until Vik swiped for it and flicked him right on the bridge of his nose.

Which got him to flinch back with an, “Ow!”

“Rude. Don’t be a brute.”

“I swear to Athena I’ll just eat both of you right now, you like that better? That way you’ll still have your cat.” He pointedly opened his mouth to make a show that he’d gladly shove the both of them down his throat—

He stubbed his toe, hard , on a big old rock because he was paying fuck-all attention to where he was going, and his sandals didn’t really do much for shielding his toes.

Then that set him cursing and sputtering and growling and having to actually look where he walked instead of staring at Vik the whole freaking time.

Which wasn’t nearly as fun. Even if she was just relentlessly teasing him with that purring ball of wiry, staticky (it was so not nearly as pretty as his) fur… And, you know, now also giggling because he’d nearly planted himself face-first in the dirt.

That made him almost wish he had’ve, since he would’ve landed right on top of her and her newfound precious bundle of needles and maybe given them both a good flattening they kinda deserved.

#Wordsoup #Assassin's Creed Odyssey #AU #Tom Drake #Sinvik #Fluff #fan fiction #original fiction #Original Characters

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ambiguouslyliterate-blog · 6 years

Text

Respawn Point Ch. 3: Waifu Ruckus

"These are the crop fields. They aren't maintained especially well… The players we assign to work in them usually ditch to rp or go dungeon crawling."

It had been a few days since San and I had arrived in Weebtown. San quickly went her own way after she was healed up; the aloof creeper girl venturing into the server to go cause trouble in a way that I wasn't surprised was her standard. I was left to explore the server on my own, only occasionally bumping into her or Roxxie as I walked the streets, the pink petals of cherry blossoms blowing around my feet.

"Here are the mines. There used to be a systematic branch mining system here but now everyone just does what they want. A lot of people have even built little secret bases inside the mines, making other players pay tolls. It’s… A thing."

Weebtown was more like my home server than I'd expected; there were fields of crops, areas squared away for mining and private building, and even a few cool landmarks like the anime-haired creeper that towered over the server’s spawn point. The major difference however, was the mods. My home server, the server where I spawned, was "vanilla," meaning that mods were outlawed, although that didn’t stop the mod users that forced their way in. Either way, anyone who used a mod was seen as an outsider, which was in stark contrast to the streets I was walking now. Modded weapons, armor, special blocks, and plants littered the server, players walking by them as if they were a normal part of the world, as if they hadn't been brought into existence through an otherworldly power. It was a welcome change, even if I had to see players walking around with the occasional overly-graphic body pillow.

"What are all of these for?" I asked, looking around at the legion of bland stone buildings surrounding us. The admin chuckled.

Slenda had been taking me on a tour of the server, both of us hoping that I'd be able to find a place there, or at the very least help me socialize. Slenda didn't seem keen on either, her eyes cold and her voice tired during most of her walk. Though, I suppose I'd be just as broken if I had to run this mixed deathtrap and playground barely disguised as a functioning society. When we reached the edge of the spawn town the ornate buildings and semi-organized gave way to a sea of grey and pale colors, all belonging to buildings of nearly identical structure. They all had a similarly shaped main building with wings to either side, the walls lined with windows. Every roof had a small walkable area with a fence around it and in the dirt beside the buildings' bases there were chalk lines for some kind of sports. The only thing differentiating the buildings were the signs in front of them, all written in that indecipherable weeb language.

"Oh, these? They're all high schools."

"ALL OF THEM?!" I questioned, my mind spinning, "B- But, why?!”

Slenda shook her head, letting out a weary sigh. It didn't seem like it was the first time she'd had to break this to someone.

"That’s anime!” She said with a weak smile and a flash of her hands, “To get to all of the beauty and nuance, you need to dig through a bunch of high schools and horrible waifus."

Weebtown was the peak of superfluous, taking every unnecessary excessive element they possibly could and finding a way to squeeze it into every day server life… But high schools?! What's so exciting about high schools?! Most servers didn’t even build schools in the first place since most players spawn in with a decent amount of knowledge. But this server had what looked like thousands. It felt like being on the top of a mountain where the air thinned, except here you were left gasping for standards and moderation rather than oxygen. I didn’t even want to know what a “waifu” was. I looked to the admin; stern, tidy, straight-laced. Though I'd run into San a couple times around the server, Slenda felt a lot more tangible, for lack of a better word. It didn't feel as if asking her questions would end in cryptic answers or unrealistic spells of unconsciousness.

"Why in the Nether would you want to work in a place like this?” I asked, gazing out over the sea of bland cement and distant neon pink blossoms, trying to ignore the churning disgust in my stomach. Slenda looked at me, her thick eyebrows pulled together in a strained look of confusion. It seemed like she saw the excess, but wasn’t put off in the same way I was, or at least wasn’t on the same page, "I mean you and Roxxie are like... Normal."

Slenda tilted her head to either side, lips parting to laugh but closing as if she wasn’t ready to speak, still putting the story together, grunts and sighs filling the space. I smiled at her, glad that part of this crazy world was finally starting to budge. "Well yeah the server’s messy, but it’s not that bad, y’know? Besides, how Roxxie and I got here isn’t much of a story...”

She let out a deep sigh, scratching her head. Her expressions were more and more fluid as she spoke, her exasperated smile beginning to crack, “Me and her just got tired of the way things were run in our server that we decided to try making our own, y’know? So much land is taken up by established servers, though, so we just started looking for one to join, and we found Weebtown."

“You’ve been in Weebtown for a while then, I take it?”

The admin dusted off a stone slab bench and sat on it, smiling incredulously at herself. "No actually, we’ve only been here a few months… When we arrived, the admin was already begging people to take her place. No one here wanted the responsibility so I took the position and made Roxxie my operator. It's been non-stop weaboo nonsense ever since."

I took a seat next to her, Slenda keeping a slight distance between us, "I mean, you're one of the only normal people here and you stabbed my girl—" A finger pushed up her glasses on her nose, warmth flushing into her cheeks, “San, in the middle of the night.”

To be fair, it was her fault.

At the very least, I was glad to see that I was able to find someone to talk to in the server. Another boring straight with no interest in body pillows or honor fighting. The most significant difference between us however, seemed to be in patience. Where I could never imagine running this bizarre anime death carnival, Slenda seemed to be taking it in stride, or at least doing the best she could.

“Do you ever regret it?” I asked, “Becoming the admin, that is?”

Slenda shook her head, a smile growing on her face, just barely hidden behind her stooping shoulders and curly tufts of hair.

"No... Weebtown's a mess, but that's kinda why I like it,” She smiled, even warmer than before. It was the smile of a proud mother looking over her horrible weaboo child, "It's like a fixer-upper, you know? If I can improve things here, I'll actually be doing something really special.”

I smiled back at her and tried to close the difference between us on the bench, scooting slightly closer. Her eyelids came halfway over her eyes and she slid farther down the bench, the storm over her eyes returned. “I just wish Roxxie felt the same…”

Slenda’s voice trailed off, her eyes wandering upwards. Without a word, she left her seat on the bench, tip-toeing forward. I followed her eyes only to see a thin wisp of smoke rising over the far edge of the eastern district of high schools. Shouts could be heard as the black pillar grew, flickers of heat beginning to pour from its bottom. The admin’s eyes shot open, startled with disappointed realization.

The admin darted down the path, fumbling in her pocket for something as her feet forced her way forward. I ran behind her, trying my best to keep pace by throwing myself in the vague direction she was running, though I was completely lost to the situation. As we neared the swirling smoke and the fiery chaos at its base however, I started to remember what the guardians had mentioned before-- about San “trying to blow up the server every other week.” I gulped.

"Crap don't tell me that's--"

"Oh, it’d better not be.” Slenda growled back. She pulled a book out of her pocket, something I’d recognized as an admin’s book of names, and clutched it tight as she ran. She couldn’t be…

"THE WAIFUS ARE BURNING!!" A distant voice cried, pulling my eyes forward. The area beyond the high schools was clearer now as the excessive stone structures began to part. It was a clearing of technicolor figures, much like other sprite art displays in my home server, but with one major difference. The art wasn’t of innocent, normal things like flowers or mobs or tools, they were all of two-dimensional anime girls that towered over the eastern high schools. Some were blue-haired, some had dragon tails, some cat ears, but all had ridiculous outfits and horrifying cleavage. So that’s what a waifu is… I pondered, my face twisting as I followed behind Slenda, Maybe we could just… Let this place burn?

Weebs ran back and forth under the amber flames, buckets of water and blocks of dirt in their hands that they were using to snuff the flames, though the blaze seemed too much for the disheveled otakus to handle on their own. In the center of the havoc stood a cloaked figure; dark fabric swirled around their body, tossed by the wind. Their hood was pinned in the front by a skull-shaped steel pendant and chain, the little light that glinted off the face shining like a steely grin. The figure stepped forward, followed by one or two weebs, breaking off from the crowds of onlookers. Slenda moved to address the cloaked weaboo but he spoke first, cutting her off with a voice that was such a stark departure from his form it felt like it put a crack in the air. It was somewhere between the shrill cry of a cat and that of a gossiping old woman. It was the kind of voice you’d imagine an old yellowed skull to have, not a living player.

“No need to worry, administrator. We’ve got things under control here.”

His voice may have been annoying, but looking behind him, I found that he wasn’t completely wrong. Though the blaze still roared, the players had been pushing it back, or at least keeping it contained. But, why would he hold someone back from helping, especially Slenda? Weebs climbed and jumped along the structures, some crowding around their feet to stare upwards in disheveled awe while others went to stand behind the cloaked man, their eyes burning a hole through us and their hands restless. Slenda took a heavy breath, pushing a loose tuft of hair back behind the side of her glasses.

“Well, I have to admit,” She said, still gasping from our run up here, “I wouldn’t expect the leader of a weeb gang to do such a good cleanup job, Desu Skull.”

I shook my head. Excuse me, WHAT?

“It’s pronounced Deathzu Skuru.” The cloaked figure gave a fake cough, a hand on his hip, his other hand gesticulating dramatically in the air. His primadonna-of-the-undead voice seemed a perfect fit, “But that’s close enough I guess...”

As I continued to survey the scene behind the sassy skull-faced weirdo, something suddenly caught my eye. There was a structure of iron beside one of the waifus, a hasty assemblage of iron bars like a makeshift cage. There was a blue and green form inside, one that instantly pulled me in. I leaned in to try and get a closer look but “Deathzu Skuru” stepped in front of me, his arms outstretched. He was closer now, and I could see two white lights inside of his hood, glowing brightly, offensively. “Now now, you really don’t have to be here. We’ve got this all handled.”

Slenda strode through his hasty blockade, a look of impassioned disapproval on her face. It didn’t take long for the image within the cage to become clear to us, the neon blue mass of hair flipping to the side to reveal San’s dumb grin.

“Hey guys! I’m being detained!”

“YOU LET HER OUT RIGHT NOW!” Slenda barked, spinning on her heel to face the hooded head honcho. Deathuzu Skuyuru (or however you pronounce his name) simply stood and laughed, his snicker growing to a high, overpowering cackle. He moved a metal-clawed hand to pull back his hood, revealing his face--or rather—a mask. He wore an iron mask in the shape of a skull without a lower jaw, the teeth extending to a cartoonish exaggerated length. A white skull was painted on the metal forehead (because I guess the skull-shaped mask wasn’t enough) and in front of his eyes he wore a pair of sunglasses, each lens of which had a holographic skull sticker that shined a powerful white in sunlight. I wasn’t surprised by the weeb’s outfit at this point, given the other players in the server. Just disappointed.

“IF we let out this little troublemaker, she’ll just do something like this again, and again, and again! You definitely don’t seem intent on doing anything about it. You just give her a slap on the wrist!”

“It isn’t your decision!” Slenda snapped, pulling back out her book of usernames, “I’m the admin here and I decide how griefers here are punished. If you do anything to her, I’ll ban you for PvP in a neutral area, Death Skull!”

The skull-faced vigilante coughed again, “Deathzu Skuru… BUT ANYWAY, you can’t ban me unless I’ve already attacked her, and so you’ll be unable to stop me with my mod—“ The cloaked figure spoke laboriously, epically, reaching into his sleeve. He pulled out a sleek black weapon that fit snugly in his hand, its squared end pointed towards the sky like some ancient and powerful obelisk, “A GUN! THAT KILLS YOU!!”

“YOU FIEND!” Slenda gasped.

That could literally be any weapon, I thought, it’s functionally the same as a bow and arrow why would you even mod that? I rolled my eyes, materializing one of Zolo’s swords in my hands. It barely took any thought to summon my mod anymore, the last weapon I copied appearing instantly, like the press of a button. Like a reflex. “Okay, this is dumb,” I interjected, “Can I just like beat him up or something?” I stepped forward and Desu Skull flailed back, yelping at the weapon in my palm, his gun waggling in every direction. “Hey! Careful with that thing, normy! That’s a dangerous weapon!”

He stuck his feet firmly on the ground, his arm straightening, pointing his firearm at San’s cage like an arrow. I stepped forward, twirling the sword in my hand like a bat, the steel slicing the air. It was only then that I began to think about how little training or understanding I had of swordplay, but I hoped it would work out. These things usually… Well. Okay, maybe I did have reason to be worried.

Slenda would have to punish me somehow for fighting Desu Skull, and I’d probably end up injuring a stray weeb or two, but I figured it was worth it. Maybe it was a weakness of mine, but I couldn’t stand jerks like him bullying other players just to make a point. If I couldn’t kill him, I was hoping at the very least I could give get him away from San, get her to safety, even if it meant getting myself in trouble.

Slenda grabbed the back of my collar, yanking me back and growling at me through gritted teeth, “I know you like stabbing my players, but this situation is a bit more complicated than that, “Cyrustheslayer.”’ I could swear I saw the weeb’s skull mask smirk at us. I scowled at him. This situation felt too familiar to me. Standing across from a twisted modder with a metal mask and a bizarre sense of justice, “We can’t let him kill San. There has to be another way to handle this.”

I pulled my sword to my side, but didn’t despawn it. It still didn’t make sense to me why Slenda was so protective of San; threatening to ban players who hadn’t done anything to her, scolding those who put her in even mild danger, even though she could respawn. I’d heard of players before who couldn’t respawn, whose deaths were permanent, but they all lived in special servers, “hardcore” servers. Was San a hardcore player too? I clenched my sword, ready to take Desu Skull down. Just in case.

Desu Skull cocked his head and chuckled, observing Slenda’s leash-like hold on me. “Oh! Well. I wasn’t expecting you to just let me exact vigilante justice, but I guess it do be like that sometimes!” The modder waved his gun around joyously, nearly dropping it.

“That’s not what I meant!” Slenda cried back.

“NOW WATCH, ADMIN! AS I MAKE YOUR HORRIBLE WAIFU DISAPPEA--”

Desu Skull looked dramatically towards San’s cage, his shades narrowed down the sights of his modded firearm, only to see empty space. A cage with no captive, a hole carved in the bars. “Wh- Wha--” His gun shook in his hand, first with confusion, then with frustration, then with anger. The weeb stomped his foot, pointing at members of his gang who stood in the crowd, crying out and demanding an answer to where she was, , “CAN’T I TRUST MY GOONS TO PERFORM ONE SIMPLE TASK?! WHICH ONE OF YOU LET HER OUT, HUH? STEP FORWARD!”

As Desu Skull spoke the air began to swirl, the air hot, dry, and unnatural. It was as if the air around us was angry. Just as Desu Gun moved to point his gun towards us, to threaten us for an answer, a searing gust burst through the air between our two groups, sending bodies flying in every direction. Burning air whipped around us as if we’d been caught in a tornado, throwing us against nearby walls and dispersing the crowd of weebs like a sand castle kicked by a beach bully. The only thing left standing was Desu Skull, his steel-armored body resolute against the supernatural winds. A figure appeared in the hot, swirling cloud behind him, eyes glowing with yellow fire. The figure’s hand reached out, taking the gun in her iron grip.

Roxxie crushed the gun in her hand, the firearm bubbling out from its corners like hot wax. Death Skull tried to break away but Roxxie pulled him close, her flaming claws moving forward against his verbal protests. Trails of broken flame came up from her eyes, her ponytail bursting into a flaming halo. “N- Now now, no need to be a tsundere..!” He gasped, trying and failing to wrench his hand away from her grip. Though Slenda and I were both pushed against the cement of a high school’s outer wall, Slenda pulled herself to her feet, pushing off and trudging through the harsh wind.

“Lucky for you guys, I just happened to be in the area.” Roxxie grinned, holding her prize high like a hunter. San stepped out from behind her, waving at Slenda. Desu Skull managed to writhe out of Roxxie’s grip only to end up in the dirt where Roxxie pinned him under her boot. The operator smirked down at him, then looked up to give a beaming smile to Slenda.

“Roxxie, let him go!” Slenda cried.

“What, are you’re saying we should just let him off?” She questioned, her tone stirred with a genuine confusion. The operator grimaced, pushing Desu Skull’s steely mask farther into the dirt, “He just tried to execute San for a crime she didn’t even commit! We’re supposed to just let crap like that fly?”

I hoisted myself up, summoning a sword to anchor myself in the dirt, and another to pull myself forward, bringing myself closer to the pillar of flame. One overpowered jerk down and one to go, I guess. I grunted against the whipping gusts. Streaks of flame were beginning to form as well, falling from her body like streamers and spinning in the air around the scene like the beginning of a fiery hurricane.

“Just let him go!” I yelled, Roxxie’s eyes snapping to me in condescending surprise. Slenda stared at me, her half-lidded eyes as unamused as Roxxie’s, as if this was their private squabble. I wondered how many times they’d done this, “I don’t like this guy either but it’s not like being a dick isn’t going to make the players like you any better!”

The operator growled, turning to Slenda. The fires were beginning to die around her as her expression became more weary, “Slenda, you know if we keep letting them do more and more of this, the server’s just going to fall apart!”

“I don’t care!” Slenda cried back, clutching her book of names tightly in her hand, “We can’t do stuff like this!! We are not like this!” Roxxie squinted at her, the fire in her eyes burning brightly, flickers of the flame flying back from her face in streams. Though I felt less than intimidating being that I was pitted against this experienced mod user, I pointed a sword in her direction, holding firmly onto the one I had planted in the ground. Together, me and Slenda stared her down until she reluctantly released the weeb from under her, stuffing her hands in her pockets. She plunged them deep, as if resisting the urge to hurl a fireball at the rebellious weaboo as he rose to his feet, dusting off his cloak. “The admin’s right, Roxxie, that was rather rude of you.” The skeletal loser sneered, tossing the melted remains of his weapon into the dirt. I felt a blood vessel pulse with opposition from deep within my brain.

“However,” The skull-faced gangster interjected, reaching for a black shape that materialized within his cloak, “It is going to take hundreds of man hours to restore the damage done to these precious murals, so I’m afraid as an honorable weeb my hands are still tied--!”

Before any of us could react, a shot rang out, Slenda shrieking as the bullet grazed the top of Roxxie’s forehead, sending her flying back, the fire in her eyes bursting. Desu Skull then turned to us, his gun pointed right between right between my eyes.

“BAN GUNGALEFREAK10. PvP in a neutral zone.”

Slenda clapped her book of usernames shut and after a second’s pause, Desu Skull became a blur of grey, his body launched at an incomprehensible speed towards the server boundaries. Roxxie laughed, smiling coldly as she brought her eyes level with ours, blood trickling down her forehead. San soon came down a path to the side, seemingly gleefully unaware of just how much trouble she’d caused, her eyes beaming as she caught Slenda.

As she passed by Roxxie however, the operator caught her shoulder, laughing as she spoke to her, “Sorry for all of this by the way, didn’t mean for you to get in so much danger.”

San smiled and folded her arms behind her head, seemingly content just to be caught up in all the drama. I turned to Slenda, only to see her eyes brimming with purple fire, her knuckles white on the book she clasped in her hand. She stomped towards her administrator, ignoring San, her body moving like a loosed arrow towards her target.

“Excuse me Roxxie, what in the Nether did you just say?” Slenda questioned through gritted teeth to a smiling operator.

“I set the fires,” Roxxie said with a shrug, as if it shouldn’t have been a surprise. Slenda looked like she was going to erupt, “I got tired of looking at all of those waifus and figured I could just get rid of them. If any of the high schools caught fire I’d consider it an added bonus.”

Slenda grabbed her by the collar, pulling her close enough for the blood from Roxxie’s forehead to drip onto the round lenses of her glasses. I tried getting closer, but I realized there was nothing I could do. This wasn’t an isolated event, but the last straw of a fight they’d been having for months. “YOU CAN’T JUST DO THAT!” Slenda screamed into Roxxie’s face, her arms shaking.

“And why not?” Roxxie chimed back, squinting at the admin, “I’m the second most powerful person in this server since I’m your only operator. I should be able to start controlled burns like this! It’s cleaning up land that we run!”

Roxxie shook Slenda from her collar, staring daggers for a few seconds before finally stomping off. She launched into the air with a burst of flame, flying to some unseen corner of the server like a loosed arrow. Her eyes wet with anger and exhaustion, Slenda collapsed to her knees, San running to her side.

“You okay Slenda?” Asked San, her hand moving instinctively to pet Slenda’s mounds of curly dark brown hair.

The admin smiled at her, wrapping her arms around the creeper girl. “I should be asking you that, you doofus. You almost got shot!”

“I probably woulda been fine,” she smirked back, burrowing her forehead into the admin’s like an overly blunt eskimo kiss. The two smiled, giggling at each other for a few seconds, but Slenda seemed to be holding onto something. Her face never seemed to pull into a full smile, her eyes always a little strained, pointed just over San’s shoulder.

She was worried about the operator, or more accurately, what she was going to do. And so was I. Shivering, I looked to the stream of smoke that followed Roxxie, my stomach churning. Weebtown was just like home to me now… The only problem was, it was just like home.

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roadtripwiththewinchesters-blog · 6 years

Text

Going To California

A/N:

Hello! Thank you for all the love. ‘Dead In The Water’ is taking me ages to write, so here’s a little something for you guys in the meantime. This extract will probably feature much later in the series, I’m thinking ‘Scarecrow’, but it totally works as a stand alone piece too. I took inspiration from the Led Zeppelin song ‘Going To California’ of course because I love them and it always makes me think of Sam, listen to it as you read!

I’m starting a tag list, so if you would like to be added just drop me a message x

Word count: 2,949

Summary: You recount what happened the night Sam left for Stanford. Your best friend Sam shows up on your doorstep after the fight with his dad and Dean. The pair of you work out what to do next. You take him to the train station the next day, and give him something to help start his new life in California, but he does something in the moment that changes your entire relationship.

I waited up for him that night. It was a mundane Tuesday, but Sam had called me with the latest family drama. All the time I had known the Winchesters, he and John had clashed.

He stood on my porch soaking wet from the storm, shaking from both anger and from the cold. I pulled him inside.

My aunt and my brother had been asleep for hours. Sam was familiar with sneaking up to my room - the pair of us hanging out all night whenever he was in town, or researching a case well into the early hours of the morning - he knew which steps creaked and which didn’t.

Joni liked Sam. She thought he was a good influence on me because he had always done well in school, regardless that he had no permanent address. We both knew that would change if she caught us together this late on a school night.

Sam slipped into my room and I hurried down the hall to get a towel. I locked my door behind us and faced him. He sat on the edge of my bed, his head buried in his hands. Everything he owned was contained in a backpack and a duffel. I took one, rummaging through it to find him some dry clothes.

“Come on,” I said gently, holding them out for him. “You’re gonna freeze.”

When he looked up, I noticed his lips were purple from the cold. He slipped through into mine and Gus’ adjoining bathroom, the door still ajar. I busied myself putting my books away to clear some space, ignoring the urge to watch his reflection in the mirror. He emerged a minute later, finally in something dry.

“What happened, Sam?” I finally asked him from across the room.

“I have to tell you something,” he said quietly. I stood staring at him, waiting, afraid of what he might say. Was he in trouble? Had he done something? I didn’t want to guess.

“There’s a letter in the front.” Sam nodded to his bag that lay at the foot of my bed.

I knelt beside it and extracted the envelope, tentatively flipping it over in my hands. It had already been torn open. I saw the words ‘Stanford University’, and knew exactly what he had done. A warmth poured into my chest as I fumbled with the papers. I read the words silently.

It is with great pleasure that I offer you admission to the Stanford University Class of 2001. Your thoughtful application and remarkable accomplishments convinced us that you have the intellectual energy…

My eyes continued to skim the words, but I realized I was no longer processing them. It dawned on me what I was holding – this was his ticket out of this life.

“You did it,” I whispered, gawking at the page. “You’re out.”

I suddenly realized why he had needed to come to me. “Oh my god, your dad flipped out?”

Sam nodded, drying his face with the towel. “I’ve never seen him so mad.”

“And Dean?” I asked. I hoped his older brother would have at least tried to be supportive.

“He was pretty pissed too-” Sam sat facing away from me, breathing hard, and I realized he was scared of what I thought. “Are you?”

I took my place beside him, he had my full attention. “No, no,” I assured him softly. “Of course I’m not. Sam, I’m proud of you.”

Whatever had been said tonight, it had really hurt him. I ran my hand up his arm and he hung his head.

“Dad said if I left, I should stay gone,” His voice broke under strain. I shook my head, disappointed that his dad had let him down again. Dammit John. “I didn’t know where else to go-”

When he started to cry, I realized I was mad at Dean. I didn’t believe that he was angry, he always wanted the best for his brother. Yet, here Sam was believing that his family had renounced him for doing something for himself for once. I gently took the towel out of his lap, tossing it aside. Sam tried to hide from me, burying his face in his hands as he sobbed, but I took them both and held him.

“Dean loves you so much,” I told him. I was absolutely certain. “They both do.” I added, thinking of John and the extremes he had gone to over the years to keep his boys safe. “I think he’s just afraid of you going off on your own, and maybe… not being part of it, for once,” I suggested. I ran my fingers through his hair until he was calm again.

“When do you have to leave?” I inhaled, bracing myself for the answer.

His eyes were red and swollen, they met my own. “Induction starts in a few days. I was just gonna stop by to see you before-”

“Don’t go tonight,” I said without hesitation. “Stay here,” I half-asked, half told him. “Please.”

“You sure?” He asked, sitting upright.

“Are you kidding?” I said shortly, my eyebrows lightly raised.

He sighed. I could have sworn the expression he wore was relief. I don’t think he had any plans at all; no real place to go. I’d been damned if he slept on a bench at the train station.

“Thanks. I don’t think trains actually run at this time anyway.” We both laughed.

Later that night we lay on my bed in the dark, both too restless to sleep.

“I’ll go with you to the station tomorrow,” I decided.

“Don’t you have school?”

“So, I’ll skip first period,” I rolled my eyes at him. I breathed in and out slowly. “You’re gonna have a whole new life. You could be anybody you want,” I reminded him. Sam stared up at the ceiling imagining it all. “You could have a new name?” I suggested grinning, rolling onto my stomach to see his reaction better.

“Hmm, I mean, we use aliases all the time,” Sam pointed out dubiously, interlocking his hands behind his head. “Maybe I could just be me.” He said much quieter.

I wasn’t quite ready for the conversation to get deep. “Alright,” I said, as he shot down all my attempts to excite him about Stanford. “What are your plans anyway? Where are you going to stay until school starts?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess I’ll figure it out when I get there.”

I couldn’t help but worry. I knew he didn’t have a lot of cash. My eyes trailed to the jewelry box balanced precariously on top of my wardrobe.

“Okay, I’ve got one... You’re going to stay somewhere and it’s going to be… permanent,” I widened my eyes at him mocking horror.

Sam smirked. “Well it won’t be forever.” I could tell he was in denial.

“It’ll be for a few years at least,” I said. I didn’t think he could see it clearly.

“That’s not so permanent,” he said, trying to weigh it up.

I tried to put it in perspective for him. “Sam, what’s the longest you’ve ever stayed in one place?” I prompted, knowing the answer.

“About three weeks,” he admitted shortly. I pulled a face in response. “So, it might be weird at first,” he reasoned. “But having something permanent might be... kinda nice, for once.”

There was a silence. I suppressed a yawn, I didn’t want him to think I wanted to sleep. In fact, I wanted to talk to him until long after the sun came up.

“Promise me, you’ll visit.” Sam said suddenly, tilting his head to look at me. “That you won’t just disappear.”

“Hey, you’re the one who’s leaving, not me.” I joked. “You know where I’ll be… right here.” The thought was kind of depressing. Whilst Sam was off to California, I would be right here in this small town, trying to work out what to do with myself. Maybe I would take up lacrosse or something.

We lay still for another minute, I joined him in staring up at the ceiling. Light from the street peered through my curtains. “I’m so proud of you,” I said quietly, my heart sinking slightly at the thought of him leaving again.

“God, I wish you could come with me,” Sam breathed beside me.

“Hey,” I said, trying to raise his spirits. “I’m only a state away, it’s not like we can’t visit, right?”

“Right.” He croaked.

“And I’ll know where you are for once,” I added, most of the time I had no idea of his whereabouts until he called. This didn’t have to be a bad thing.

At some point we fell asleep. I probably went first. I jolted awake in the middle of night, afraid for some reason that Sam might have taken off. I relaxed at the sight of him beside me, the tuft of hair hanging over his face rising and falling as he breathed. I was used to him coming and going, sometimes it would be months at a time before I saw him. I thought about what I had said to him, it was true, I would know where he was, but this... this felt different. Maybe it wasn’t just the distance, but I couldn’t place my worry. I lay there conflicted, not knowing how to feel before realizing, this wasn’t about me. It didn’t matter how I felt. Sam was going to California tomorrow, and that was that.

I didn’t sleep well, waking up again in the early hours of the next day. My cat curled up asleep between Sam and I. The sun was rising, light pouring through the curtains, projecting patterns onto Sam’s cheek. He looked peaceful, I noticed, beautiful even, his expression free of the conflict of yesterday. I watched him until I drifted off again.

The next time I opened my eyes, the sun was higher in the sky, and Sam’s side of the bed was empty. I sat up slowly, smiling contently with our late night conversation, my hair sticking up at a funny angle. Sam’s side of the bed was empty. I shot up so fast, I almost tripped over my blanket, freezing when he slipped through the door - his own hair matching mine in a disorderly mess.

“I thought you-” I started before seeing his expression.

“I think,” Sam began grimly. “You might be busted.” I waited, eyes wide for him to continue.

“I ran into Gus in the bathroom.” He added.

I cursed as I burst into the bedroom beside mine.

“What will it take?” I crossed my arms, staring at my little brother. He smirked up at me expectantly. His silence cost me ten bucks.

“Whatever,” I said, dragging myself sleepily back to my room.

Sam waited for me in my truck, whilst I said goodbye to Joni and Gus like every other day. I sneaked a stack of toast and a flask of coffee from the kitchen, and we ate as I drove to the station. I wished the car ride had taken us longer.

I slyly left Sam in line to get his ticket, whilst I ran around the corner to the pawn shop. I pulled out my mother’s jewelry box and hastily tipped the contents onto the counter. When I looked up expectantly behind the counter, the owner was frowning at me doubtfully, his large arms crossed.

“I didn’t steal it,” I said defensively, seeing his reluctant expression. “How much is it worth?”

He combed through the pieces, some of them I recognized, some I didn’t. My phone beeped and I assumed it was Sam noticing I was gone.

The man indelicately picked up one of the rings, the dark green stone catching my eye as he flipped it over between his thick fingers.

“Not that one,” I said, snatching it back. The stuff didn’t mean a lot to me, I never saw her wear much of it anyway, but it didn’t feel right to sell it all. I hoped my mom would think I was doing the right thing.

“Or that,” I added, thinking of Gus as I slipped a plainer-looking black and silver ring into my pocket. He should have something too.

Altogether, it scrounged up fifteen hundred dollars. I had never held that much cash before in my hands. I asked for two paper bags, shoving a thousand into one and five hundred in the other before darting back around to the station, where Sam was leaning against the wall outside, waiting for me.

“Hey, where’d you go?” He asked as I approached him.

“Take a walk with me,” I said, taking him by the arm. “We still have time, right?”

I didn’t have a destination in mind, but we ended up stopping a little way away from the station on the edge of the riverbank. It wasn’t a particularly sunny day, but the train tracks glinted on the bridge regardless.

“So, is this the part where you murder me?” Sam quipped, holding onto the straps of his bags.

I pulled a face at him, shuffling my feet in the grass trying to think of a way to do this.

“Listen,” I began, looking up at him. “I know you don’t have a plan, so... I thought this might help.” I held out the bag containing the larger amount of money. He took it from me warily, eyes widening when he saw the contents.

“You were gone ten minutes and you what? Robbed a bank?” Sam hissed.

“Yeah, the cops are looking for me as we speak,” I humored him, rolling my eyes.

“Seriously, where did you get this?“

“Doesn’t matter,” I said shortly. If he knew I had sold my mom’s things, he would make me take it back. “It’s a thousand dollars. It’s enough to get you on your feet, right? Find somewhere decent to stay?”

“This is all for me?” Sam looked at me incredulously, and I knew it was worth it, just for that one look. “I can’t-”

“Shut up, Sam.” I stopped him abruptly. “Yes, you can. You can pay me back when you’re a fancy lawyer in your fancy office with fancy-“

I was going to continue mocking him. In fact, I had a joke up my sleeve about offices and briefcases, but he pressed his lips against mine, kissing me. It was an effective method of shutting me up. I blinked and it was over. Sam pulled away quickly. At first I thought I had done it wrong, but I realized he was only worried about my reaction. I became aware of my own brows knotted together and I relaxed them, not wanting him to think anything of my expression. We had never done that before.

I stood there for a moment, staring at him. The moment I felt my cheeks growing hot, I spun around, my back to him. I was sure we were thinking the same thing. Crap.

I was thankful as a logging train passed us, screeching as it crossed the bridge. My gaze quickly returned to the grass, dragging my heel across the dirt in attempts to focus on something else, but my hand trailed up to my lip, trying to preserve the memory of his touch. Then the train was gone, and we stood quietly for a moment.

“Have I ruined it?” Sam said from behind me. He didn’t come too close, apprehensive about touching me again until he knew what I was thinking. I understood exactly what he was talking about; our friendship. I didn’t know how I really felt until much later, after he was long gone. I had a lot of time to think things over, not that it mattered. But in that moment, I couldn’t let him go thinking it was a mistake.

I exhaled deeply, summoning the courage to face him again. “No,” I told him, dropping my bag and kissing him back. “See, now I ruined it too. And it doesn’t matter who did it first.”

We stood looking at each other for a moment, both too confused and conflicted to say much.

“I don’t want to leave,” Sam confessed suddenly.

I was afraid he might say something like that. “Yes you do, and you are,” I told him firmly. “You want this.”

He exhaled, shaking his head slightly as he focused on me. “It’s not the only thing anymore.”

I felt an ache deep in my chest. “You can’t have it all, you know,” I told him, somehow still finding a way to joke. “I don’t think this quite weighs up anyway.”

He still looked torn.

“Come on,” I said gently, taking his hand and leading the way.

We took our time walking back to the station and found a corner where we could sit and be relatively alone. I rested my head on Sam’s shoulder as we waited for his train to pull into the platform. He slipped a hand over my own. His touch relaxed me, it felt the same as it always had, but in that moment it meant more somehow, now that he had kissed me, now that he was leaving. He flipped my hand over, revealing the dark scar that ran from the center cross my palm. Sam traced it lightly so as not to hurt me. I watched his brow furrow slightly, and I answered his unspoken question, “A spirit in Salem.”

His eyes trailed across the tracks and I tried to work out what was on his mind. Was he thinking of his dad and Dean? Was he anticipating Stanford and the life that awaited him? Was he thinking of me?

“I’m done hunting,” he muttered. That was the one thing that hadn’t crossed my mind. It took me by surprise.

I sat up to read his expression, waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, I just said, “Okay.”

I didn’t cry until after he was gone. I sat in my truck, suddenly feeling very alone. The picture of Sam and I at the World’s Largest Ketchup Bottle stuck to my windshield.

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