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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Note

Hi i just read your work and it is amazing!!!! Buuut, if its possible can you make a part 2 of Scraps? Like, the first one was so good... it kinda needs a sequel😂😂 if thats possible

Had to think about what I would write for a little bit, but I think I've got it.

Scraps (Part 2): Rindou Haitani, Ran Haitani, Kakucho Hitto, Sanzu Haruchiyo, Manjiro Sano, Hajime Kokonoi, and Takeomi Akashi x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.9k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

song recommendation:

A pussy clenching, breath hitching, thighs squeezing mess.

That's what you're reduced to as you're in class, the soundless, dual vibrator/clit sucking device hidden neatly in your underwear.

Ever since you'd been introduced to the Alpha boys, they'd made you their personal plaything. And you didn't really mind; it was something to do when things got boring around the sorority house. But sometimes... they'd take their experiments out of your scope of knowledge.

This was one of them.

You were given the toy and told that if you could hold off on cumming for twelve hours, you'd be rewarded with whatever you wanted. But you couldn't take it out, you couldn't tell anyone - oh, and you didn't know who had the remote to it. The device is only controlled by a discreet, white remote, and any one of the seven men could have it, changing the speed or the pattern of vibrations of the device. Right now, it's on a pulsing cycle, making you squirm slightly in your seat as the professor lectures about art history.

You're sitting in the very back of the lecture hall where no one would sit if they wanted to pass the class. But you're content with today being an off-day. You need to survive this challenge, first.

You can't help but think of the various dicks that would be yours for the choosing once you finish today's challenge. But it's only ten o'clock.

Ten more hours.

Around twelve, you're trying your best to keep yourself calm, sitting on the edge of your seat while you attempt a test. The speed changes from pulsing to a dull vibration, giving you a brief break from the jolts of pleasure that go straight to your clit.

"Ms. Y/n, can you come up to my desk, please? Bring your test." You look up at your professor, who is cooking her finger at you. For a moment, you wonder if she's caught on to your little predicament, but when you approach her desk, she takes your test and crumples it up before throwing it in the trash, much to your surprise. "I forgot to tell you that you have an A in the class, so you don't need to take this test." You sigh in relief, just as the vibration changes to a more intense sensation. You tense up, clenching your legs before thanking your professor and leaving the classroom quickly.

You can't take much more of this.

Around three pm, you're laying in the sorority house, face down in a pillow as you moan, the feeling of an orgasm building on top of the other six or seven ruined orgasms from earlier. But you stuff this one down with the others, tears decorating your pillowcase as you sob in frustration.

Five more hours.

_____________________________________________________________

At six o'clock, you're at your breaking point.

Dinner is at seven, but you can't even focus on anything except the buzzing between your legs. You're hazy, staring at yourself in the mirror and blinking slowly. There had been no relief, no naps, no rest from the torment, but the pink device inside of you persisted, making you want to cum over and over again. All you can do is think about algebra or something disappointing to prevent yourself from cumming all over the device and losing the challenge.

Suddenly, your phone begins to chime, and you raise it to your face, seeing "Alpha House" on the screen.

"Hello?" you breathe into the receiver, and you hear a chuckle on the other end.

"Are you okay, princess?" It's Mikey. The vibrator begins to pulse again, and you bite your lip.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. What's going on?"

"Come by the house at seven-thirty. The boys are excited to see you." Mikey hangs up the phone and you stifle a loud moan, trying to keep yourself together before you meet the boys.

One hour left.

At seven-thirty, you're standing at the door of the house, and the vibrator is going crazy. You almost didn't make it across the campus without your legs going weak, but you prop yourself up against the door with a hand, quivering at you wait for the boys to answer the door.

"Little sister..." Ran answers the door, his violet eyes observing your quaking figure. "You made it." You try to step through the door, but Ran catches you in his arms, stooping to pick you up. He holds you against his chest, cooing into your ear about how you're such a good girl, and how they're going to take good care of you before the night is over. You're deposited in the den, where the other guys are, and Ran parts your legs with tender fingers, revealing the device nestled inside of your panties.

"All day, huh?" Sanzu wonders, sitting across from you on the couch and stroking your thigh. "You're such a good girl for us. Kakucho, Rindou, and Kokonoi didn't think you would make it."

"We placed bets," Rindou explains, forking his cash over to his brother with a small sigh. "But you proved me wrong." Mikey appears, his black eyes roaming over all of those present in the room before sliding and focusing on your half-dazed self on the couch, legs spread and shaking.

"Ready to guess who had the remote today?" You nod, breath quivering as you look around the room at the men. Your first bet would be on Sanzu, but you figure guessing him would be too obvious. Your second guess would be Rindou, but he also seemed like the most obvious. So you're left with Kakucho, Kokonoi, Mikey, Takeomi, and Ran. "You get three guesses."

Three guesses. Five men.

"M-Mikey?" Various members of the frat shake their heads. Of course, Mikey wouldn't, he just comes up with the ideas. Takeomi seems almost too bored with you, so he's off the list, too. Two guesses and four men. A twenty-five percent chance of getting it right.

"Kakucho?" He shakes his head, leaning on the back of a chair and blinking slowly.

"One more guess."

Kokonoi or Ran. Fifty-percent chance of getting it right. Kokonoi had a class with you today, but you didn't see him move his hands around as you watched from the back of the class at all. But the sensation also didn't change during the class. You have to take a chance, though.

"Ran." The violet-eyed man smiles, then produces the white remote from his pants.

"Smart girl."

"But how--"

"On Wednesdays, my work-study has me all over campus. Every time I saw you or walked by the sorority house, I'd change the vibration." Sanzu chuckles then looks at his watch.

"It's time, ain't it?" Mikey pulls your underwear off, leaving the lacy thing on the floor before looking at the device, then back at you.

"You earned yourself some extra credit," he begins. "Are you ready for us, pretty girl?"

"Yes," you keen, jerking your hips up. "Yes, I am."

"Good." Mikey slides the vibrator out of you and puts it up to your lips so you can taste yourself. You suck the device slowly, fingers coming down to caress your swollen clit as you suck your juices off of it.

After this, he stands you up and bends you over the back of the couch, feeling a large, warm pair of hands on your hips. "I'm not going last this time," Takeomi mutters, pants down around his ankles. "Been waiting for this all day." You're more than prepared to take his length, your pussy squelching and sucking his cock into you. "Fuck, yeah..." The slapping sounds of your backside against Takeomi's hips begin, and you moan, feeling the relief of a cock filling you up.

The other six just watch, some with their dicks out, others palming themselves over their pants. Mikey, as usual, is standing at the back of the room, watching the scene before him with crossed arms. This is his foreplay.

He enjoys watching and listening to you squeal more than anything. He enjoys having control over six men who will bend you over and use you as a willing cum dump if necessary, like a breeder who requires his bulls to try their luck with you, the lone heifer.

And it's pleasurable enough for you to keep coming back for more.

"Why don't we record this one?" Sanzu wonders and Takeomi laughs.

"You're gonna have to ask little sister, here. She might not--"

"That-that's fine," you pant.

"Just a little POV thing," Ran adds, pulling out his phone. "Make it real nice, Takeomi." You look back and watch the man inside of you point the phone at the space between your hips, watching his cock go in and out of you with a smile on his face.

"Look at that pussy... she's creaming all over my cock..."

And each frat brother waits his turn to cum in you, with Ran's being the most you've ever felt inside of you at one time, and Sanzu's being the roughest. Kokonoi is taking his turn when you feel cum sliding down your leg, and when he's done, cum drains out of you in a small flood. Your fingers, which have been running over your clit and bringing you close to climaxing, are covered in it, and you want so desperately to stick them inside of yourself and then suck them dry.

Kakucho takes his time bringing you pleasure, tweaking your nipples, and running his tongue down your back and up again. You suppose someone else is filming you two, because both of his hands are on your body as he pumps you full of cum, ghosting his fingers over the slight bulge from his long cock.

Rindou is last, and you watch Mikey pull out his own cock, stroking it while Rin slams his hips into you, making you moan louder than you thought possible. He grips your neck from behind, choking you lightly as you let drool run past your lips and onto the couch. You hear Ran complimenting his brother on his fucking, and your raise on your tiptoes, praying his dick would stop slamming into your cervix.

"Take it," Rin whispers in your ear. "You can take it, sweet girl." You choke out a cry, then grip the couch for all it's worth as Rindou lets himself go. When he pulls out, Mikey stands, his eyes focused on your face as he walks around the couch, taking the phone from Ran and pointing it at your filled and abused pussy.

"Push it all out for me, sweetheart." You obey, feeling the cum leak out of you rapidly before Mikey stands, swiping his cockhead over your pussy lips. "You haven't cum yet?" You shake your head, breathing heavily. "Go ahead and cum on my dick." Mikey enters you and fiddles with your swollen clit, bringing you back to the edge and not relenting. You get no warning prior to the orgasm crashing over you; the feeling of release almost taking you out.

"Oh my fucking god," you cry out, and Mikey pistons his hips a little faster as you clench around him.

"That's a good pussy," he grunts, left hand gripping your hip while he cums inside of you, growling low in his throat. When he's done, he backs away, watching you push out his cum, too. "Now I want you to get on the floor and lick it up," he orders you. "Lick all of our cum up."

You get on your knees and lick the puddle off the polished wooden floor, each man watching you with slack jaws. When you're done, you show Mikey your tongue. He approaches you, grabs your throat, and spits in it, closing your mouth as you swallow that, too.

"Such a good little slut, aren't you?"

#tokyo revengers smut #tokyorev smut #tokyo revengers x reader #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #ran haitani x reader #rindou haitani x reader #hajime kokonoi x reader #kakucho hitto x reader #manjiro sano x reader #takeomi akashi x reader

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ptergwen · 3 years

Text

favorite crime

w/c: 1.6k

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood / death, lots n lots of angst

summary: you convince peter to go on the run after he’s framed for murdering mysterio, but he doesn’t want to drag you into his mess

a/n: this was completely based off the song by olivia lfmbsjfhs it’s so beautiful and i’ve wanted to write something for it for a while now so yee i hope y’all like ! pls lmk what you think <3

“we have to get you out of here, peter! come on!” you shout back to your boyfriend and tug his hand that’s laced with yours.

peter doesn’t budge. even when your grip on him tightens, when you pull him forward with all your might, he remains stoic.

there’s something he needs to do, and he’s been contemplating it since the day he met you.

it’s time to let you go.

“please, peter. i’m begging. i know you’re tired of running, but if we don’t leave now… they’ll find you,” you desperately choke out. peter squeezes his eyes shut, dreading what’s to come. “i can’t do this to you anymore, y/n. i… i’m sorry.”

emergency sirens and flashing lights approach the old apartment building serving as yours and peter’s latest hideout. the whole world is on the lookout for him, so you two stowed yourselves away in brooklyn for a bit.

you were hopeful the rumors would pass eventually — about how peter shot the beloved mysterio and left him to die in cold blood. they’re merely talk, of course. you’d personally seen the events of that day unfold on the tower bridge. hell, your class was right at the center of them.

quentin beck was pure evil, so rotten he defamed both peter and spider-man with a charge as cruel as murder. he’s wreaking havoc on him from beyond the grave, over a complete misunderstanding that peter had nothing to do with.

beck’s true source of anger is stark industries. yet, once again, peter ended up the collateral damage.

he was deemed a wanted murderer. posters revealing his name and face were plastered up around the city, a reward even being offered to whoever who turns him in.

you’d proposed the idea of skipping town until things settled. the way you saw it, it was peter’s only option other than prison for twenty-five to life. peter was panicking and couldn’t think straight, so he went along with your getaway plan.

a few weeks later, he’s regretting it.

you’ve been the one person he could trust through this madness. you’re right there to console him, to protect him just like he does you. through sickness and health, life and clearly death, you stick by peter’s side. you left everything behind without a second thought, for him.

peter loves you more than you’ll ever fully be able to comprehend, which is why he can’t ask you to do that. this is his battle to fight, not yours or anyone else’s. his.

you suddenly freeze in your tracks, turning around to look at peter. “what are you talking about? you’re fine, pete.”

his eyes roam everywhere except to yours as they water. blinking back tears, he fixes his gaze on your intertwined hands. you notice a stray tear fall down his cheek and use one of your thumbs to wipe it away, then press a reassuring kiss to his lips. peter lets himself reciprocate momentarily before jerking back.

“please just… stop being so nice to me. you’re making this way harder than i wanted to to be,” he rasps and squeezes your hand tighter. you’re still lost, absolutely clueless about what he’s referring to.

“look, pete. i wanna hear you out, baby. but… i think it should wait until we get to jersey.” you keep your voice as calm as possible, though you’re terrified for both of you. since the feds know your location, they’ll have the place surrounded any minute.

hopping cities isn’t cutting it anymore, so you’ll have to change states this time. new jersey is next on your list.

using his strength to his advantage to hold you in place, peter seizes both your shoulders. his bloodshot eyes lock with yours. a stern expression coats his features, one you’ve seen from him yet never been on the receiving end of.

“we’re not going to jersey, y/n/n,” he declares, the sirens starting to grow louder. you feel a pit forming in your stomach. “we have to!” you immediately protest. “it’s not gonna be easy finding our way, but it’s the last-“

peter cuts you off, voice softer now. “no, no. that’s not what i meant.” he waits a beat and inhales a deep breath, aiming to settle his nerves. it doesn’t.

“i’m going to jersey. you’re staying.”

tears cloud your vision the second those words leave his mouth. you shake your head furiously back and forth, willing him to take them back.

part of you was always afraid peter would get second thoughts. not only about running away with you, about ever being with you. you’re both so young. your entire lives are ahead of you, and peter won’t allow you to risk your own because this isn’t worth a single bit of it.

he’d warned you how dangerous it was to be associated with spider-man. it’s why he held off on telling you about his alias for the longest he could. you naturally began asking questions whenever peter bailed on dates and showed up to school covered in bruises. he hated lying to you, using his stark internship as an excuse, so he finally came out and said it.

peter sometimes wonders if you’d be better off not knowing at all. it’s too late now, though.

“wait, what? why- why can’t i go with you?” you plead, peter’s fingers coming up to cup your cheek. his fingertips lightly caress your skin. “i’m a criminal, y/n. you’d be my accessory.”

it takes everything in him not to break down and sob along with you.

you lean into his palm, already missing his touch. “i don’t care... i don’t give a fuck. i just wanna be with you, peter.” peter literally has to bite his tongue to fight the urge to cry. hands grabbing either side of his head, your fingers twist in his hair roughly. “i’ll do anything, pete. i really will, i swear. name it.”

peter threads his own fingers through yours again, bringing your hands to his chest.

“i’m so sorry, angel. i never should’ve gotten you involved,” he murmurs out and pecks your forehead. “you have nothing to prove to me, okay? you’ve done more than enough. i’m gonna return the favor.”

you let out a strangled whine, your knees buckling as you come to terms with the gravity of your situation.

this is it. this is the end of yours and peter’s story.

“hey, none of that. it’s okay,” peter coos, neither of you convinced. the tastes of salt and metal flood both your senses. he helps you back up and hugs your waist, peppering your cheeks in more kisses. you’re bawling now, arms wound around his neck, clutching at his tattered jacket.

free tears escape peter’s eyes at last. “i love you. i love you so goddamn much, y/n. never forget it,” he nearly whispers. you sniffle and push your forehead against his. “i’m not saying it back ‘cuz that feels like a goodbye, and i- i can’t say goodbye to you yet.”

“it’s not a goodbye,” peter reassures you, rubbing circles on your lower back. “it’s, uh, it’s a see you later. i’m gonna figure something out and be back to you before you know it. can’t get rid of me that easy.”

that earns a faint giggle from you, peter managing a grin. you two attempt to ignore everything happening beyond these walls, only focusing on the other.

“then, um…” you clear your throat. “i love you.” his smile dwindling slightly, peter nods and meets your gaze. “i love you too, baby. you should probably get going soon.”

affirming his advice, a booming voice that sounds from a microphone commands peter to come out with his hands up.

your worry spikes, instinctively drawing peter in closer. he forces himself to put on a brave face for you.

“i’m scared, pete. where… where am i supposed to go?” you rush to ask him. “home, y/n/n. go home,” peter decides, pressing a final kiss to the top of your head. “just don’t get caught, and you’ll be fine.” carding your fingers in his undone curls, you sigh. “easier said than done, but i’ll try not to.”

you’d never pictured that the sweet boy with a heart too big and brain even bigger, who sings you to sleep even though his voice sucks and spends his last dollar buying you flowers, would be accused of first degree murder. it isn’t true or fucking fair.

what’s worse, he has to bare this storm alone now.

you lift your heavy backpack off the cold ground, slinging it onto your shoulders. peter stares out the window and down at the assembly of swarm troops crowded together.

“are you gonna be okay?” you catch his attention. he snaps back into reality, pulling your hood up so it covers your head. you’re wearing a sweatshirt of his, after having gone through all your own clothes. “i hope so. are you?” peter repeats your question. “i hope so,” you echo.

tying your hoodie strings tight, peter offers a smile. “say hi to may for me. ned and mj, too.” it’s going to be tough to face his family and friends after this. “i will. i’ll let them know you’re alright.” you kiss his cheek, placing a hand on his chest. peter lets your touch distract him from the mess he’s about to be hit with.

“thank you, y/n. i’ll see you soon, baby. you have my word,” he promises, stepping back so you two can go your separate ways.

you watch him with fresh tears threatening to spill.

“i’m gonna hold you to it. be safe, spidey.”

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Life Goes On

This if for @buckybarnesplumwhore

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; grieving, funeral, breeding, handcuffs, warnings are not exhaustive so read at your own discretion.

This is dark! Andy Barber x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You volunteer at the local youth center but when one of the kids meets an unfortunate end, you cross paths with his father. No stranger to grief, you try to help him cope but find it a bigger than task that you expected.

Note: When I started writing, I had no plan. When I kept writing, there was still no plan. And then it just all kinda happened.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

It was too sunny for a funeral. A funeral come too soon.

The service was held out in the sun, rows of wooden chairs and a sombre old priest. You never knew if the Barbers were religious but it was easy to find a holy man in Massachusetts, as easy as those early years of settlement found in textbooks.

There were no flowers, only two oblong caskets shrouded in black cloth, the name of each of the dead on silver placards, no pictures, no souvenir of who they were.

It was like Andy was already trying to forget them. He was at the front, the grieving widower and father. You were lost somewhere in the middle with his co-workers, there out of propriety more than empathy, and distant relatives who attended out of courtesy, some passing acquaintances who followed the story in the papers more than out of compassion. It was a spectacle and Andy had done his best from feeding the leering onlookers.

You knew Jacob more than his parents. He was younger than you, almost ten years apart. You knew him from the youth group you volunteered for, the same one you'd been in at his age. He was out of place there, he was from a better neighbourhood than the other kids, they called him the rich brat, and he resented himself more for it than he did them.

His attendance kept his mother happy. He didn't like the individual counseling, he didn't talk, so she put him in the group and he talked there. Sometimes. The kids never went on philosophical monologues but they understood each other and shared what they needed to.

Laurie was always late to pick him up. So he stayed to help stack the chairs and you ended up waiting with him, making sure he wasn't alone in the dark. He hated that at first too, until he realised you weren't on the stoop to council or judge. You were just two people, chatting to pass the time.

Sometimes Andy picked him up. He was friendlier than Laurie. Jacob's mother was always in a rush, even on her way home where there was no deadline. She said thanks, maybe, and drove off as she began to lecture Jacob about how he wore his hat. Andy offered you a ride, every time, as if he had some compulsion to be the good guy, the saviour. You always said no, the bus was a five minute ride to your building, fifteen minutes if you walked.

Now Jacob was dead, his mother too. Another tragedy inflicted upon those least likely. Even death didn't stop the whispers, even that venue, the priest's collar, the Biblical dirges, the grim family man in black did not silence them. It sickened you as the service ended and the people rose in a hushed murmur.

Andy left without talking to anyone. The procession of cars would drive through the streets with flags to mark the grieving on their way to the interment. It was as if Andy was doing what was expected more than what he felt he owed the deceased. He was ever the lawyer, formal and curt.

You followed the grey parade. Not out of obligation but out of genuine regret. Jacob seemed like a lost kid, even in death. The rumours, the accusations, the suspicion, followed him. The people didn't watch the dirt fall from the shovel to see him at peace, they watched it as some grand finale to the great show of the Barbers.

When the metal no longer cut and scattered the soil, the crowd thinned out. You stayed as the diggers packed up. You were sad for Jacob, for Laurie. Andy hadn't been there to see the burial. You couldn't blame him but you were surprised. He just disappeared after the service, apparently done with his part in the play.

You went closer and stared at the new stone that stretched above both plots. Laurie Barber… and her son, Jacob Barber. May they rest. It was as short, as minimal as anything else about the affair. You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. You didn't know if Jacob was a bad seed, it wasn't your job to make that call, but he had just been a kid and all that potential was now six feet down.

"Didn't think anyone would stick around," the dark figure stepped up beside you, his steps muted by the grass, "least of all, you."

"I'm sorry, I…" you looked at Andy and then the dirt, "I'll go."

"Wait," he said before you could move, "I thought-- I thought I wanted to be alone for this…" he shoved his hand in his pocket, "but I've been alone since it happened and I'm realising, I'm gonna be alone from here on out."

You didn't say a word. You didn't know what you could say. He'd heard a hundred apologies, a hundred condolences.

"I'm happy someone stayed, that someone cared," he cleared his throat, "thank you."

You nodded and played with the buttons on your cardigan.

"He was too. Happy, you know, that someone cared. I think back now and I realise that you probably saw him more than me. He was always excited to go to the centre but he got in that car and he just… deflated." He shook his head, "maybe this is better. One way or the other, he wanted to get away from me but he never could get away from Laurie. She wouldn't let him go."

He chuckled sardonically but it quickly fizzled in his throat.

"Sorry, I'm rambling…"

"You're processing," you said, "a lot of the kids down at the centre, they lost parents, one way or the other, orphans, fosters… I always told them that they didn't have to make sense because grief never really does."

"Now that makes a lot of sense," he said, "but you shouldn't have to listen to me."

"I shouldn't or you don't think you should say any of it?"

"Hmmm," he hummed, "yeah, maybe."

"I don't get paid to listen to those kids, I just get a time and a place to do so. This isn't different. It's just talking and a lot of that is just figuring things out. Listening is easy, you're doing the hard part."

"Jeez, you come up with this stuff on your own or is there some sort of how-to book?"

You lifted your chin and sucked in your lip. You could tell where Jacob got the bite from.

"Sorry, that was… mean," he said after the silence settled with the dirt, "can I ask you something?"

"Sure," you said.

"You got somewhere to be?"

"No…" you answered cautiously.

"Do you think you might wanna listen to me a little more? I'll buy you a coffee for the trouble."

"You wanna talk? To me?"

"Better than anyone I do know," he snorted, "they all just give me that dumb look. They pity me, judge me. You don't have to say yes but I started now, if I stop, I'll...stop."

"Coffee?" You glanced over at him, "I'd rather tea."

"I'm sure they got that too," he fiddled with the trim of his pocket, "anytime you wanna bail, let me know."

"If I can handle teen angst, I think I can handle you."

🖤

That afternoon wasted away in the corner of a café. It felt like any other day but for Andy, you knew, it was likely the worst day of his life. Likely a day he wouldn’t forget. You sat patiently until the last of your tea was cold. He didn’t finish his coffee, he hardly even touched it. When you checked the time, he looked down embarrassed.

“It’s late,” he said, “I… I’m sorry for keeping you so long.”

“I didn’t have anything to do. I doubt you did either,” you swept up the paper cup and your purse.

“No, really, I mean, you don’t know me. You knew Jacob and I just sat here and talked your ear off for hours. I--” he looked out the window, “I know that when I go home, the house will still be empty. That’s why I’m here.”

You looked past him as he turned back. You chewed your lip, “Andy, have you looked into counseling yet?”

“It feels… too early for that.”

“Too early?”

“I don’t want to let it go. Don’t want to let them go,” he sucked his hands in his pockets, “if I go, that’s what they’ll tell me to do.”

“No, they’d help you live with it, not forget it,” you said, “but I know, it’s scary. Have you done anything? Read anything?”

“Read?”

“Self-help isn’t for everyone and those dummy books aren’t great I admit, but sometimes a start is better than nothing. What about… a routine? Do you have one?”

“I work, I come home, I sleep, and try not to notice they’re gone,” he shrugged, “and repeat. Lot of overtime.”

“You’re still working?” you went to the door and he followed.

“Well, I talked to you. That’s what I’m going to do about it.”

You stepped out into the evening din and spun to look at him. You crossed your arms and stood across from him on the pavement.

“Well, unfortunately there’s an age limit down at the centre,” you said, “but I could give you a number for an adult group.”

“No, I don’t wanna talk to a group of sad parents and widowers. Just remind me how pathetic I really am,” he scoffed.

“Do you think that what you’re doing right now is better?”

“Do you have a degree in this?” he wondered, “what are you doing down at that youth centre talking to degenerates?”

“I have a certificate that says I’m good at listening, but no, I couldn’t afford a degree,” you dropped your arms, “but, will you come down? Sit in on a session. Just listen… for Jacob? It helped him, I think, after a while?”

“With the kids?”

“Yeah, with the kids,” you said, “maybe it will help you decide.”

“Decide what?”

“If you’re going to keep doing what you're doing; nothing, or if you’re going to try. Trust me, after a while, just sitting there, ignoring it, it gets old and it won’t get better.”

He looked down and stared at his leather shoe as he ground his toe into the pavement, “is that allowed? Am I allowed to do that?”

“I don’t see why not. I have parents sit in all the time.”

“But I’m not-- not anymore,” he gulped.

“You are,” you patted his arm gently, “you always will be.”

“What time?” he raised his head.

“Tuesdays and Thursdays at four-thirty. We do accept late arrivals. Kids come in and out. Usually hang out til seven before I let them go.”

“I think I can make that work,” he exhaled deeply, “thank you.”

“For what?”

“For putting up with me.”

You nodded and gave a bittersweet smile, “I miss Jacob too. I might be little more than a glorified babysitter but it means something to me. The kids… they feel like they’re mine sometimes. At least on those two nights a week.”

“Well…” he peered down the street, “you need a ride?”

You chuckled quietly, “you now, I think this time, I do.”

🖤

Andy was early. He took a chair near the wall as the kids flopped on the low sofas and into the colourful armchairs. A government grant had seen an upgrade in the lounge, although the kitchen needed some work as the cooking classes were still short on supplies. Dark circles darkened his eyes and the hairline wrinkles around them added to the hollow effect. He wasn’t sleeping.

You waited for the room to quiet. You greeted the kids and went through the usual ice breaker; one bad thing, one good thing, and one way they could improve the bad. Many of them were reluctant at first, they resisted what they thought were cheesy and inane exercises but they all came around. They were able to voice things that otherwise would be kept to themselves and they were afforded a respectful and often rapt audience.

When you finished, you kept from naming your own three. You looked at Andy.

“I’m sorry, everyone, I’m so forgetful. This is Andy,” you gestured to him, “he’s sitting in with us today. Andy, why don’t you tell us your bad thing, your good thing, and one thing you can do to improve the bad.”

He looked startled but he stood and cleared his throat. He glanced around at the kids and the shadow left his face. “Well, I lost a file, there were free bagels at work, and… I guess I could try to look again tomorrow.”

“Very good,” you smiled, “alright, my turn at last. My bad thing is I spilled tea on my shirt, my good thing is it’s a dark shirt, and my thing to improve is… wear a bib.” You laughed as you audience stay stone faced, “alright, alright, I’ll just be more careful and not run with hot liquids.”

You sat and started with Danica. She was always the most talkative, that encouraged the other kids. Today was no exception and you had to remind her to save some time for everyone else. Erik was next, then Andre, and Shamea. You almost didn’t notice Andy as he stood and sidled against the wall. Not until he was at the door, he looked back darkly and you saw his chest fall heavily. His nostrils flared and he was gone.

You tried not to show your disappointment, tried not to let the kids notice. They were all caught up in the circle and breaking it was never good. Shamea passed the stuffed bunny to Naima and you focused on her. Maybe it was too soon for Andy, you understood that, but you hoped too that he might have found a piece of Jacob there.

Before the kids left, you handed out the coloured markers and they each scribbled down a few words before a high-five. They passed through the open door in pairs and singles, and you bent to add your own note. You tucked the card into your bag and locked up. Jacob was usually the only one to hang around. Not anymore.

You headed out the front door with a wave to Martha at the front desk and took a gulp of the fresh evening air. There was someone sat on the flat stone at the bottom of the broad rail of the stairs. You recognised Andy as you neared, much too big to be a teen.

“I’m sorry,” he dabbed his nose with his sleeve, “I couldn’t… I couldn’t stay in that room.”

“But you’re still here,” you said.

“I didn’t wanna just leave you hanging but… they all remind me of him,” he stood, “I’m sorry.”

“No more apologies,” you opened your purse and searched, “I had the kids put this together. Actually, it was Milo’s idea. He didn’t know it was you but he wanted to send it in the mail--”

“What?” he took the card and opened it. He turned so he could read it in the yellow light of the street lamp, “oh my god.”

“Is it too much?”

“No, no,” he ran his thumb over the ink, “it’s…” he closed it and tucked it into his jacket, “the only other thing I’ve got is the bill for the caskets. It’s… amazing. Thank you.”

“Not at all. They always surprise me,” you said, “most of the time, in good ways.”

“You need a ride?” he checked his watch.

“I don’t live far,” you waved him off, “but I always appreciate the offer.”

He nodded and frowned, “and if… if I didn’t want to be alone? Would you grab a burger with me? Have you eaten?”

“Not since lunch, I, uh… I guess it couldn’t hurt,” you said.

“You gotta be up early?”

“Nah, not too early.”

“What do you do? I mean, outside of this?” he turned and directed you to his car.

“Data entry,” you sighed, “it’s not very exciting but I work remotely and the pay is decent and I still have time for the kids.”

“It’s a living,” he said as the door locks clicked and you grabbed the handle, “no judgment. Trust me, being a lawyer, it’s really not as glamourous as it seems.”

🖤

Andy’s routine changed. He came around every Thursday and listened. After a few weeks, the kids figured out who he was. They didn’t treat him any differently and even invited him to join in on the teambuilding games you arranged. He wasn’t bad help as you welcomed a few new members from the group home.

That night, you weren’t feeling great. Even the kids hadn’t helped much. You were exhausted and nauseous. You blamed it on the late night shawarma. You said goodbye to the kids and packed up. Andy stacked the chairs without you asking, even when you told him not to.

You leaned heavily on the table and checked your phone before slipping it into your bag. You wiped your forehead and shivered. Some gravol, ginger ale, and sleep would be your indulgence that night.

“You okay?” Andy asked.

“Stomach thing,” you rubbed your middle, “nothing major.”

“You don’t look great,” he said, “well, I don’t mean it like-- are you sure--”

“Oh, gee,” you slid past him and out the door.

You ran to the restroom across the hall and into a stall. You wretched and the acid seared your throat. The bile bubbled in the toilet water and you shuddered. You heaved a few more times and rinsed your mouth in the sink.

Andy was waiting for you in the hall, “let me drive you tonight,” he insisted, “even if it’s just a block away.”

“I can’t even say no,” you grumbled as he handed you your purse.

“What’s wrong? You eat something?”

“I think,” you groaned as he held the door open and the cool air outside chilled the sweat on your neck, “urgh, I hope it’s only that.”

You got to his car and fell heavily into the seat. You slumped against the console as he started the car. He paused as the engine idled and felt your forehead. He nudged you back against the seat and turned his hand to press the back of his fingers to your cheek.

“You got a fever,” he said, “I don’t think it’s food poisoning.”

“Oh, those kids carry bugs like rats,” you muttered, “just take me home, I’ll get over it.”

He pulled out of his spot and you closed your eyes. You leaned against the window, frigid against your forehead and hugged yourself. You dozed off before he even turned out of the lot, the belt keeping you from folding over entirely.

🖤

You woke up between fresh linen. The sunlight was soft in its early hues. It wasn't your bed. You rolled onto your side and your stomach ached from how empty it was. You pushed back the thick duvet, you were sweating. You didn't remember more than the car ride and a few fuzzy glimpses of the bottom of a bucket.

You were cold again and pulled the blanket back. The door was open and Andy filled it as if he'd heard your grumbles. He stood at the bottom of the bed in a pair of plaid pants and a blue tee.

"Why am I here?" You asked.

"You fell asleep. You're sick. I couldn't just leave you outside your building," he said, "how are you feeling?"

"Bad," you replied curtly, "I can go," you sat up, "stop by the pharmacy, go hide in my own bed."

"You should stay here," he insisted, "just until the fever breaks."

"Really… ugh," you moaned as your belly clenched, "Andy, I should--"

"Lay down?" He came around and caught your shoulder, "I used to call in sometimes when Jacob was home sick. When he was a lot younger and… I stir up a man cup of noodles."

"You don't have to--"

"It's completely selfish," he interrupted, "it's been a long time since I had someone to take care of or at least it feels like it."

You were light-headed as you tried to stand but he kept you from getting to your feet, "I guess I can stay a little longer."

"Don't act like I don't owe you," he tutted, "now relax. I'll get you some soup. You need something in your system. I got some anti-nausea pills in the cupboard, too."

"Thanks but you don't owe me anything. I'm gonna owe you big."

"Why don't we just call it even then," he backed up, "seeing as that's my bed and my couch, it's really not made for sleeping." He stretched his arms and his shoulders cracked, "especially at my age."

🖤

You stayed another night. You tried to convince Andy to let you take the couch instead but he was a lawyer and rarely lost an argument. It was easier to eat by the evening but you were still dizzy and you couldn't stop yawning. You'd never been so tired.

Despite your uneasiness at overstaying your welcome, you slept more heavily than before. Your guilt didn't keep you awake for long as you sank into a deep sleep and you woke slowly, a murmur escaping your lips as grogginess weighed you down. You were still so very tired but it was already morning.

You stretched and your wrist caught. You winced and tugged at your arm. You sat up in horror as you stared at the metal cuff attached to the hoop drilled into the headboard. You tugged until your arm hurt and your hand throbbed. What the fuck.

"Andy! Andy! What--"

"Shhhhh," Andy hushed you as he entered, "it's okay, you're okay."

"No, I'm not. What did you do?" You pulled again and the metal pinched your skin.

"You're going to hurt yourself," he said calmly.

"Unlock it. Let me go," you struggled as you kicked off the blankets, "Andy, what the fuck?"

"Hey, don't talk like that. It's...nasty."

"I don't understand," you began to pant, "why are you doing this?"

The panic crawled like tendrils up your neck and back. You twisted and pulled but the metal cuff didn't budge. You felt the bed shift and Andy grabbed your shoulder. He forced you down, pinning your other hand beside your head.

"I'm taking care of you," he said, "don't be so ungrateful."

"I can take care of myself. Let me go, please."

"No, you need me," he snarled, "like I need you."

"Andy, you're wrong--"

"Stop!" He covered your mouth, "stop! You don't know what you need. Now be still. Be quiet." He squeezed until your jaw hurt, "don't make this difficult."

He slowly lifted his hand and you didn’t move. You stared at his hand then looked at his face. There was a desperate anger in the depths of his oceanic eyes. He sat back and his jaw clenched as he watched you.

"I'm going to make breakfast. Be good. You need to eat." He backed off the bed and went to the door, "I mean it."

He left you and you listened until pans clinked and clanged in the kitchen below. You folded your thumb against your palm and tried to wiggle free of the cuff. It was too tight. There was only one other way out and you couldn't do it alone.

"HELP! HELP! SOMEONE PLEASE!" You screamed, "someone help me!"

The footsteps hammered up the stairs and Andy stormed in. He grabbed you and clamped his hand over your mouth again.

"Listen, no one can hear you, you got that? Windows are soundproof, but I really don't want to hear it so it's up to you if I gag you."

You blinked and your lip trembled against his hand. Your eyes rounded and you nodded stiffly. He tore his hand away and sighed as he clapped his hands on his legs in frustration.

"Good," he said quietly, "now, let's just hope," he stood and strode to the door, "that the bacon didn't burn."

🖤

You fell asleep again shortly after eating, even with the adrenaline and panic surging through your veins. You woke again in the afternoon. Your limbs were heavy but the fever was gone and your stomach felt better but you were still terribly tired.

Andy was there. He had a leather file in his lap as he looked over papers and scratched his beard. He sensed your movement and looked over at you.

"Hungry?" He asked, "you slept through lunch."

"No," you smelled your sweat on the duvet, "but… can I have a shower? I haven't...since I got here."

"A shower?" He closed the folder and stood. He set it down and pursed his lips as he thought. "Fifteen minutes," he said as he dug around in his pocket, "I'll be here."

He unlocked the cuff and you rubbed your wrist as you sat up. He stayed close as you rose and stayed between you and the bedroom door as he pointed you to the bathroom.

"I don't have much for you to wear yet but you can take another one of my shirts," he said.

You nodded and closed the door between you. You closed your eyes and pressed yourself to the wind. How was this the same man that you spoke to that day at the cemetery?

🖤

He slept beside you that night. You were on your side, your arm bound again by the cuff with the pillow between it and your head. You were uncomfortable, more so with him against your back. He wore only a pair of boxers. You shied away when he undressed and never looked at him again.

You dozed despite your nerves. You couldn't shake the drowsiness. You just felt more and more tired. When you opened your eyes, his arm was around you. He ran his fingers over your stomach, fingers crawling beneath the baggy tee shirt. You shivered and he nuzzled the back of your neck.

"I was thinking… well, I've been thinking for a while now, how happy we could be," he said, "I'm still young enough to try again, do it right and you… you're young, ready." His hand brushed up to your chest and he cupped your tit, "you're kind, you're caring, you're...beautiful. You’re my second chance."

“Andy,” your voice was brittle as your pulse beat furiously, “what you’re doing, it’s not right. You need to let me go.”

He went rigid and his hand stopped. He unsnaked his arm from around you and the springs coiled as he fell heavily onto his back. In the silence, you could only hear his steady breaths and a low growl.

“No, I’m helping you,” he said, “like you’ve helped me.”

“Andy, please,” you eased onto your back and looked over at him, “this isn’t how you fix this.”

“How do I?” he snarled, “huh? How? You don’t know!” he sat up and glared down at you, “you can’t know.”

“You think hurting me is helping me? That’s what you’re doing.”

“No, no, no,” he bent his legs as he grasped his head and gripped it as if it would crack, “No! I haven’t hurt you. I feed you, I keep you clean, I… I take care of you!”

“Andy,” you reached over shakily and touched his bare shoulder, “this isn’t what I want and I know you don’t want it either. You want someone who really loves you--”

“You love me!” he turned so quickly you yelped. He gripped your jaw tightly as he held himself against you, “you love me,” he pressed his lips to yours and you murmured in surprise, “you love me,” it was a maddened chant as he pulled back, “...love me.”

“And--”

His hand flew up to smother you and he lifted himself over you. His knees pressed to your legs until they parted and his other hand explored your curves through the rumpled cotton. You squeaked and tensed against his touch, your wrist chafing from the cuff.

“Shhh,” he hushed as he pushed the shirt up.

He kept his hand on your mouth as he slid down your body and left a trail of kisses along your torso as he unveiled it. He bunched the tee above your chest and bent to dote on your tits. You shuddered and pushed on his head as you mumbled into his palm.

His fingers tickled along your side and hooked into the side of the drawstring shorts he gave you. He tugged until the string snapped and edged them down as he continued to tend to your chest. You kicked around him and felt his bulge as he leaned into you.

He ripped his hand away and sat up. He grabbed the waist of the shorts and wrenched them down your legs, quickly taking his between them again. You wriggled and batted out at his chest as his thumbs pressed against your hip bones and his hands crept down to knead your thighs.

“I can start again,” he brushed his fingers down your vee and you trembled as they danced along your cunt.

“No, Andy, please, you can still stop--”

“Shhhh, honey,” he pushed between your folds and you gasped, “it’s okay. I’ll still take care of you,” he glided over your cunt and made you twitch, “and the baby.”

He poked along your entrance and you whined helplessly as you reached to the cuff and pulled with both arms. Every muscles in your strained as you tried to break free of the headboard. He pushed a finger inside of you and you cried out.

“Andy, stop, please, no--”

He added another finger and slipped them in and out of you as he purred. You looked at his face and it sent a chill through you. His eyes were dark and clung to the movement of his hand, his brow set and his jaw squared with his intent. He wasn’t the grieving widower, he wasn’t the man lost and lonely, he was a monster.

“That’s it,” he turned his hand and flicked your clit with his thumb, “you want me. I feel it.”

You looked away as your wetness spread to his knuckles and along your folds. He kept his thumb moved as he curled his fingers inside of you and the pressure built as the tip of his touch. You gritted your teeth and shook your head helplessly.

“No,” you whispered, “no, no, no…”

He took his hand away suddenly and you felt empty. He lifted himself on his knees and rolled down his boxers. You didn’t look at him, you couldn’t, you only saw the silhouette of his nudity.

He pushed your thighs apart and spread himself over you, his elbow just beside you as he felt around between your bodies. His hot breath grazed your cheek and he kissed it firmly as he angled his tip between your folds. Your thighs clenched around him in a futile act of resistance as he found your entrance.

He pushed inside slowly and brought his other arm up beside you. He forced your head straight and you squeezed your eyes shut. He cradled your head between his hands and his lips brushed yours as he spoke, “open your eyes. Look at me.”

“Andy,” you murmured as he slowly got deeper, “please--”

“Look at me,” he demanded, “look at me!”

Your eyes snapped open and met his stormy blue ones. He bucked his hips and impaled you completely. You exclaimed and grasped his thick bicep in shock, your other hand balled above the cuff. Your legs bent around his thick thighs as you tried to stop him.

“God, you feel so good,” he purred as he began to rock, “don’t I feel good too?”

Your lashes fluttered away the rising tears and you sucked your lip in to keep from making a sound. You could look away as he held your head straight, his hand clamping around your jaw as he other arm bent beneath yours.

The room echoed with the noise of his flesh slapping yours as he sped up, his grunts and groans interlaced with the sickening symphony. You quivered as his pelvis rubbed against yours and stoked the heat in your core. You could not hold back the illicit response of your body as he ravaged it.

Your breath grew heavier and he gulped it down as he kissed you again, forcing his tongue between your lips as he devoured you. The whole bed moved in time with your body and the headboard knocked against the wall as his thrusts came closer and closer together and he buried himself as deep as he could with each tilt of his hips.

He drew his mouth away and pressed his cheek to yours as his muscles tensed and he puffed into the pillow, “this is it, honey. It all starts here.”

“Ah, please…” your voice fizzled and smothered your moan against his shoulder as your body spasmed. Your legs bent around him firmly as you orgasmed and your body arched beneath his desperately.

“That’s it,” he cooed, “that’s it. You take me so well. See… it was meant to… be.”

His breaths grew more rampant with his rhythm. His hand slipped down to cradle your cheek and his thumb stroked your flesh tenderly as he dipped into you over and over. His deep groans grew louder around you. He jerked into you sharply and his motion stuttered. He gripped your hip and held you down as he sheathed himself in your walls.

He quaked as his hips slowed and he flooded you. He exhaled and as his lungs emptied, the strength left him entirely and he lowered himself over you weakly. His body pressed yours into the mattress, your sweat and his turned sticky as the air settled over you.

He stayed like that for what felt like forever. He moved slowly to lift himself up and he sat back, watching his dick slide out of you. Your thighs shook as your legs splayed around him. You felt his cum leak from you and he dragged his fingers along your cunt and scooped it back into you, coating his fingers in as he pushed them past your entrance once more. He smiled at the wet sounds of your cunt.

“That felt like the one,” he said, “but we can try again...”

He pulled his fingers out of you and admired the slickness that glistened over them. He reached down and gripped his dick, half-soft and spent. He winced as he began to stroke himself and let out stifled moans between his teeth.

“Maybe this time,” he purred as he angled himself inside of you again and lifted your legs against his torso. He bit his lips as he trembled, his cock oversensitive and overworked, “as many times as it takes, honey.”

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #one shot #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #defending jacob

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luimagines · 3 years

Text

Cheesy Pick-Up Lines

Masterlist

Can’t get more self explanatory than this folks.

For Wind’s scenario, the reader is the same age.

Very cheesy lines up ahead. Viewer discretion is advised.

Time

“Do you believe in love at first sight- or I need to walk by again?” You raise an eyebrow at Time with a smirk and a cocky pose with a hand on your hip.

He looks down at you and fails to stop his own smirk in time.

However Time does not answer you.

You bite you tongue, a little frustrated at the lack of reaction and try with a different one. “You know if sexy was a crime, you’d be found guilty as charged.”

You wink this time for good measure.

Time snorts and shakes his head. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“...Trying to get you to blush.” You admit with a shy grin and a shrug.

“You’re going to have to do more than that.” His smirk grows.

“You could be a little cooperative.” You mutter and pout.

“Your lines need a little more work.” He begins to make his way toward you. “But there’s a golden rule to this that you should learn if you want a place to start.”

“Hey! What do you-” You stop short and gulp slightly as Time gets into your personal space. “...know...?”

Time takes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger and tilts your head up. It’s a gentle touch that catches you off guard and makes you feel smaller than you usually do when you’re next to him. He stares right into your eyes and your forced to do the same.

“Here’s the thing.” He begins and you swear his voice drops an octave. “I don’t consider myself a religious man... But when I first laid my eyes on you I knew that you were the answers to my prayers.”

Time lets you go and begins to walk away as if that never happened. “Delivery is key.”

You look after him, heart pounding, a little breathless and feeling the heat of his breath on your face still. Or maybe the heat is your blush.

Oh it’s on now.

Twilight

“Excuse me, Sir Twilight.” You wave to your friend and smile easily when he gives you his attention. “I am in need of a map.”

“Why are you talking like that?”

“I-... Come on man, you don’t have to rain on my parade.” You pout slightly and refuse to give in when he chuckles at your theatrics.

“Oh, my apologies. What do you need a map for?” He smiles and places his hands on his hips.

“It appears I’ve gotten lost.” You hold your head up high and step closer to him.

“How? I’m right here. How are you lost?”

“I’ve gotten lost in your eyes.” You wink and faint on him slightly. “They’re just like the ocean! I’d gladly swim in them all day!”

Twilight pushes you off gently and flicks your forehead.

“Ow.”

“You’ll live. You’ve got thick skin.” He grins. “It’s not as thick as my shirt however. It’s made out of something not found just anywhere.”

“Oh yeah?” You rub the spot gently. “What’s it made of then country boy? Goat hair?”

“Oh you know... It’s boyfriend material.” He says with a shrug and spins around to walk away.

“Oh haha...” You smirk and walk a little faster to catch up to him. “Of course it is. Before you go, do you mind holding this for me?”

You stick your clenched hand out next to Twilight and he holds his own hand out without any thought to it. “Sure what is it?”

You don’t answer and instead place your hand down in his, unfurl your fingers and lace them with his. “Thanks, it was getting heavy.”

He snorts but continues to hold it for the rest of the walk.

Wild

“Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you I smile!” You jump on Wild’s back and hug him from behind, a laugh on your breath and a grin on your face.

Wild laughs as well and grabs your arms, spinning around for a moment before letting you fall. “That was cheesy.”

“It was supposed to be.” You wink.

“Do you even have a camera?” Wild rolls his eyes.

“That has nothing to do with what I said.” You pout slightly and put your hands on your hips. “But I know you do. You’re really good at using it to.”

“Not that good.”

“Wild you have natural talent, a gift if you will, at taking photos.” You nudge him with your arm and mockingly bow.

“I’m wouldn’t consider myself a photographer.”

“But incredibly good at taking them in the moment.”

“I suppose so.” Wild shrugs and tosses a cocky smile in your direction. ”I mean, I can definitely picture us together.”

You bite you lip in an attempt to hide your growing grin. “Do you have any raisins?”

“Nope.”

“How about dates?”

“None of those either.”

“Want to go on one with me?”

Wild pauses mid-step and blinks for a moment before turning to you. “Oh, you’re good.”

Sky

“What is it that you do for fun back in your home world?” Sky asks as your both walking through the forest for the day.

Grin and tilt your head in his direction. “I’m studying to become a historian. I’m especially interested in finding a date.” You send him a wink.

He scoffs but smiles good naturedly. “Of course. Naturally.”

“You?”

“I like the ride my loftwing through the sky and see the view. I wish I could show you guys but...”

“Maybe when we get there.” You nudge his shoulder and point up to the clouds above you. “Hopefully the skies look better there than here.”

“It’s absolutely is.” He looks up as well and you look over to him.

You lean in a little and snap, a large smile on your face. “I think I figured it out!”

“What?”

“No wonder the sky is grey- all the color is in your eyes.”

Sky bites his lip and puts his hand to his face to hide his growing smile and blush as he laughs. “Stop.”

“Did the sun just come out or did you smile at me?”

“Oh my god!”

Hyrule

“Hyrule, I have a question that I think only you can answer.” You say and wrap your arm around his shoulders.

This takes him by surprise and he’s quick to offer his assistance. “What is it?”

“You’re pretty good with magic right?”

“I know a few spells, sure, but if it’s about magic as a whole? You might better off with Legend.” Hyrule shrugs and offers an apologetic smile.

“But my question is about your magic.” You stress and poke his chest. “You see, before I get to where I’m going, let me ask you this. Are you a magician?”

“...I’d consider myself more a mage?” He tilts his head.

“Ok, prefect, explain this to me then, if you’d be so kind.” You can’t help but grin wildly. “Why is it then, that I’m looking at you, you make everyone else disappear?”

“I...I don’t know.’ Hyrule blushes all the way down to his neck and scratches it bashfully. He takes a minute to compose himself before grinning and tossing you a shy side eye. “You’re too sweet, you know that?”

“Believe me, you’re the sweet one. You’re giving me a toothache over here!”

Hyrule shoves you away then and clamps his hands over his face but from what he doesn’t cover, you can see the wide grin from behind his hands.

Mission accomplished.

Legend

“You take that back Fancy Pants!” Legend shouted. “Or I’ll toss right into the heart of Death Mountain!”

“You couldn’t.” Warrior rolled his eyes. “Not without your oh- so- powerful bracelets and rings and hoard of items.”

“If I could change the alphabet, I’d put F and U together!”

Warrior snorted and walked away. “Just admit that you lost and leave it at that. There’s no need to embarrass yourself further.”

“You-!”

You sighed and walked up to where Legend was left fuming. “Great come back.”

“Shut up!”

“I wouldn’t take what he says to heart.” You shrug and smile at him. “I think he just gets a kick out of your reactions.”

“That brainless, boorish-”

“You want to know something?” You cut him off before he could go on a cursing spree for the next hour.

“Sure.” He spits. “Hit me with it. What do I care.”

“If I could change of the alphabet, I’d put U and I together.” You grin widely and wait for his reaction.

But you don’t get one.

Instead he stares at you unamused with his arms crossed and face flat. “Ok, I think I get what he means now.”

“What?” You raise and eyebrow and scoff. “Is that not good enough for you? Ok. How about this one then? You have so many items. Any chance that you have an extra heart? Mine’s been stolen!”

You complete the sentence with throwing yourself onto his side, hand on your forehead and looking up at him with the most blissful expression you can manage.

He snorts a little, forgetting his previous sour attitude and shoves you off.

“That’s low hanging fruit.”

“Geeze tough crowd.” You brush yourself off and grin at him. “Despite that, I have to say, even though we’re not socks, I think we’d make a great pair!”

“You’re impossible.” He smiles a little easier and begins to walk away.

Well, he might have missed your point but at least he was feeling better.

Four

You sigh and run your hand through your hair. It’s wet and sticking to your face as you get out of the lake.

Four is there on the other side and you find yourself grinning.

Despite the way everything seems to be sticking to you, you jog to where he is and stop in front of him. “Here I am! What are your other two wishes?”

He snorts and glances in your direction. He stills suddenly and no so subtlety looks you up and down.

“Like what you see?”

“It’s a good thing I brought my library card.” He says in response.

“You have your what now?”

“Because I am totally checking you out.”

You blink and laugh. Because yes, you are soaking wet and all your clothes are sticking to your figure.

“Huh.” You roll your eyes and sit next to him in the sun to dry off faster. “This spot open?”

“Go right on ahead.”

“I think I have something wrong with my eyes.” You grin.

“Wait, really?” He spin in his spot to look into them as if that’ll make or break the problem. “What’s the problem?”

“I just can’t seem to take them off of you.”

Four goes red immediately and shoves you away with one hand on his face and other on yours. “Ok, you win.”

Warrior

“So aside from being sexy, what do you do for a living?” You slide up to where Warrior was sitting and lean on his shoulder, waiting for his reaction to your line.

He turns his head to look at you and you show him your cheesiest smile and he rolls his eyes.

“Wow...I’ve never heard that one before.” He snorts, letting it slide.

It clicks then that, that could have gone really bad considering it’s Warrior and he’s probably dealt with all kinds of harassments. But you count your lucky stars that he appears to be humoring you and isn’t offended at least.

“Alright, tough guy, what’s your best one?” You challenge and sit next to him.

“Really?”

“Yes. Prove me wrong. Go on. Do it.”

Warrior looks down at the ground for a second and looks back at you with that trade marked smirk, you associate him with. “Are you sure you can fire one back though? I’m sure you’re tired.”

“Why on earth would I be tired? It’s the middle of the day.”

“You were running through my mind all night. So, you must be tired. ” He says casually and looks away.

The blush is instantaneous on your face and you have to cough and look away from his stupid-charming face. That one... has a lot of implications..... depending on the audience..

A moment of silence passes and he laughs a little quietly under his breath. “That’s it? That’s all it took?”

“No.” You squeak and look at him head on.

Your blush still hasn’t gone away.

“I just...”

Warrior continues smirking. He’s enjoying this. “Cat got your tongue?”

You huff and look at the supplies in front of you. “It’s hardly my fault.”

“Sure it is.”

“You’re so beautiful that you made me forget my pick up line.”

Warrior stills and coughs in a similar manner that you did only seconds ago.

Now you’re both blushing messes.

Wind

“Hey Wind!” You call and run up to his side. “I just figured something out!”

“What is it?” Wind stops mid step and waits for you to reach his side.

You’re a little out of breath from running the distance but you grin wildly at him. “If you were a vegetable, you’d be a cute-cumber.”

He snorts and shoves you away slightly, continuing to walk along the trail behind the others. You can hear some of the older ones chuckles but you’re determined.

“I think out of everyone, you’re the cute one here, actually.” Wind smiles in your direction and it throws you off of your rhythm for a moment.

Enough so that you actually trip and fall on the trail, pain shooting from your knee.

“Woah, hey, are you ok?” Wind jogs back to you and helps you up.

You hiss and look at the damage. As far as scrapes go, it’s not that bad, but you are bleeding a little.

“Do you have a bandage?” You blink up at Wind. “I just scraped my knee falling for you.”

He blinked a bit, stunned and confused before a lightbulb seems to go in his head and he blushes brightly. He chuckles and places a hand be the back of his neck. Wind then gets down to his knees next to you and brushes the dirt from your knee. He’s very cute when he’s bashful, you think.

“Let me see what I have in my pack.” He says with a bright grin.

It’s not like the others are watching this all go down or anything....

They don’t say anything though, less they ruin the tenderness of budding crushes.

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #linkeduniverse #I was excited to write this one #i wanted it to be just something short and fun #i hope some of ya'll smiled while reading this #it's low effort fluff #i don't know why i always put them in a forest #easy setting i guess

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abundanceofnots · 3 years

Text

a little (just under 2k) playground scene with Lip and Ian as dads, as per @pink--and--white's request. i apologize to all actual parents in advance.

“How the fuck did we get here?” Lip asks through a huff of incredulous laughter.

Ian shades his eyes from the sun, turning to his older brother with a look of mock concern. “Your memory that bad already, old man? We drove here.”

It earns him a stinging smack on his thigh.

“Asshole,” Lip retorts back. “You know what I mean.”

Ian’s eyes flit back to the scene before them. “Yeah, I do,” he confirms a beat later, his voice more earnest this time.

This, by far, isn’t a new feeling. Lip’s had the exact same thought pass through his mind countless times in recent years, always in a momentary flash of warmth that filled up his whole chest. It happens all the more often now over the most mundane shit, though.

The first time was, probably, when Freddie was born. Then Ian got married, and Al came along, and Liam got to a good school—and after that followed every other quiet (not literally) evening when the whole family gathered up in the kitchen.

In those instants, Lip would stall himself for just a second, getting lost in the overwhelming sounds and visuals, and think, what the fuck.

He’s getting soft. That’s it, most likely. He’s getting soft and sentimental, going on with his extremely unexceptional life, wondering how in the hell did a piece of shit like himself get so lucky, and slowly becomes someone he’d gladly punch in the face not too long ago.

It hits him hard again, this strange sense of pride and wonder, as he sits next to his baby brother on a bench overlooking a kids’ playground.

This one’s the real deal. Everything here is child-proof and clean, with no syringe or dogshit in sight. Frank or some random homeless guy aren’t lying in a drunken coma by the swing sets. There’s not even one bullet hole in the slide. And maybe it’s not so hard to admit that this is actually pretty nice. That this is them now.

Still, the whole thing is, without a doubt, totally ridiculous. Here they are, Lip and Ian—the college dropout and the ex-con, the true sons of the South Side—sneakily munching on their kids’ packed afternoon snacks.

“Dumb luck, I guess,” Ian answers Lip’s question after some musing and takes a sip from Toe’s pink-colored juice box.

Lip hmms before he bites into a baby carrot. “For us, or them?”

“For us. Definitely.”

They’re just two regular dads who carry around lunchboxes and always have a wet wipe or a pack of tissues at hand, ready to blow noses and wipe off residue chocolate from chins and hands. There aren’t enough words in the English language that would describe how incredibly ridiculous this is, because once upon a time, not too long ago, still, Ian wore a jumpsuit with Dav on the nametag and believed this was it for him, and Lip thought the only way to get through life was by drinking himself through the ordeal.

How the fuck did they get here?

“Freddie! Hey, Freddie!” Lip calls out to his oldest, who hangs upside down from the monkey bars, effectively ignoring him. “Fred!” he tries again with an annoyed sigh, and the boy finally remembers how his ears work. “Can you help your cousin on the slide?”

“Okay!”

With a swift motion, Freddie pulls himself up again to grab hold of a bar, unhooking his knees in the process, and jumps down into the sand with practiced ease. He then immediately gets into a run, coming behind the red-headed girl in black overalls who’s been trying to climb the gentle ramp on her own.

“What was that about?” Ian inquires amusedly.

“Early puberty, I think. He doesn’t want us to call him Freddie anymore. It’s Fred. No Fredster, no Fredtastic, definitely no Fredosaurus. Just Fred. Apparently, I went to bed, and my son turned into a middle-aged man overnight.”

“Oof. That’s rough.”

“Yeah. The next thing I know, he’s gonna get a neck tattoo and his first STI. Al, buddy!” His younger son Alvin, at least, seems to have no trouble with hearing. “You need help? Want me to push you?”

“No, I’m good!” the blond kid shouts back from the swing, and to prove his point, he pushes himself harder off the ground to gain momentum.

Lip scratches his forehead. “They don’t need me anymore,” he comments darkly. “I am officially a bother.”

“You’ve always been a bother,” Ian notes before he stuffs his mouth full of grapes. “Come on, Lip. Freddie’s eight. He’s not exactly packing his bags to leave home. He’s still very much a daddy’s boy.”

“I don’t know, man. When I remember what I was already doing when I was his age….”

“Yeah, but that’s different. They’re not like us. They don’t need to be, and that’s a good thing.”

Ian’s right, but the concept of normal as something desirable, something he doesn’t necessarily need to rebel against, is something Lip may never fully come to grasps with. And neither does Ian, even if he says otherwise.

“We might be getting a dog,” Lip says after a while, pausing before he sinks his teeth into a cheese stick.

“No way!” Ian smirks at him. “Look at you, perfect American family and shit.”

Lip snorts at that. He and Tami are pretty damn far from perfect. “You not thinking about getting a pet? A friendly rottweiler for Mickey, perhaps?”

“No. First, I gotta talk him into having another kid.”

That takes Lip by surprise. He knows Ian absolutely adores his little girl, his mini ginger twin that everyone got to call Toe, short for Tomato, but he also knows the whole story behind how she came to be.

“Oh, yeah? You’d like another?”

“Yeah,” Ian admits, and as his eyes drop to his lap where his fingers fiddle with a paper straw, Lip realizes he sounds ashamed about it.

“Not as easy as poking holes in condoms with you guys, huh?” he jokes to release the sudden tension.

“Hah. No.”

“You told Mickey yet?”

Meeting his brother’s eyes again, Ian gives a noncommittal shrug. “I hinted.”

From experience, Lip knows that hinting in Ian’s case almost exclusively means Mickey is fully aware of his intentions and just chooses to ignore them before Ian confronts him head-on.

“Hopefully, you’ll have another girl,” he tells Ian after a quiet moment filled with children’s high-pitched screams and the steady screeching of a swing set. “It’s a lot more physical with boys. These two are already fighting like we used to.”

“Doesn’t really matter when you’re raising a Milkovich,” Ian remarks before yelling: “Hey, Toe? You wanna have a sip of your juice for me?”

The girl waves at them eagerly as she slides down the bendy chute. Getting to a run right as her feet touch the ground, she comes to a jolty halt in front of them, taking a good, hard look at the juice box as if only now realizing what’s expected of her.

“No, thank you,” Toe then peeps and skips off again.

“Polite,” Lip appraises.

Ian gives a low chuckle. “Fuckin’ weird, huh?”

“With Mickey as her dad? A little.”

They watch the kids play for a few minutes. Ian offers to exchange a cheese stick for three grapes, and Lip negotiates it up to five before agreeing.

“You think he’d be against it? Having another kid?” he asks Ian mid-chew.

“I mean, I wouldn’t blame him, after all the shit with Terry. Maybe with a second kid, he’d think there’d be twice the damage he could do. Dunno,” Ian surmises uncertainly. “I know how hard it was for him to even want a kid, and I get why he was scared. Don’t get me wrong, I’m shitting myself every day when I think of the ways I could fuck this up. But he’s a great dad. You saw him with Toe. She’s obsessed with him. The way she laughs at everything he says makes you think he invented comedy or something.”

Lip’s aware that their conversation turned sort of serious once again, but he can’t help not breaking into a smile. “Sounds like you’re kinda jealous of your husband there, Ian.”

“Oh, I hate his guts,” his brother confirms, only partially kidding. “I’m a fun dad, too, you know.” As if on cue, a figure coming their way catches his attention, and Ian nods to where his daughter’s playing, telling Lip: “Okay, watch this.”

Mickey gestures at Freddie with a finger to his lips, coming around the slide just in time to catch his daughter in his arms with a victorious roar.

“Daddy!” Toe announces the good news to everyone around with a loud squeal.

Ian gives his brother a pointed look.

“Fuck, man,” Lip huffs with mock seriousness. “You tellin’ me she loves her dad? What a nightmare.”

“Yo, lunch ladies.” Mickey suddenly approaches them with Toe at his hip. “How ’bout less chit-chatting and more kid-watching? Think I’d remember if I left my kid with a giant fuckin’ bruise on her forehead this morning.”

“Yeah. She’s had a bit of a scuffle with Alvin earlier,” Ian says, reaching out to soothingly rub Toe’s calf as if said scuffle and the tears it brought weren’t already long forgotten.

“The hell’s he doin’ fightin’ someone half his size?!”

“She started it!” Lip counters weakly.

“Okay.” Mickey’s mouth hangs open for a minute before he finds his figurative footing again. “I guess she had her reasons for that. And you should teach your kids to not fight dirty.”

“I go play now,” Toe informs him then, putting a stop to his rant and his bad mood in one go.

“Yeah! You do that!” Mickey replies as he puts her down, matching her level of enthusiasm. She heads for the extensive pirate-ship-like construction this time, watchful cousin Freddie already on her heels, and Mickey drops heavily next to his husband, letting out a prolonged groan into his hands.

“Tough day?” Ian asks needlessly.

“Igor’s a fuckin’ idiot.”

“Told you he was.”

“And I agree, so drop it, a’ight? Hey, by the way.”

“Hey,” Ian echoes before they exchange a quick kiss.

Mickey notices the juice in his hands then and perks up. “That raspberry?” he checks after he’s already snagged the box for himself, taking loud slurps from it to get every last drop. He finishes off with a belch. “Fuckin’ love raspberry.”

Lip finds that anything he’d say at that moment would only spoil the natural fucking beauty of it, so he just appreciates with a private snicker.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Toe yells from the top of one of the pirate ship’s smaller slides. “Come play!”

Mickey pats at Ian’s thigh. “That’s on you, man. I’m beat.”

Putting his fun-dad face on, Ian heaves himself up without a complaint. “Hey, jellybean! Do you think your dad can fit on the slide, too?”

Toe shakes her head vehemently, giggling as she watches Ian jog toward her. “No, daddy! No! No!”

“What, you don’t think I can?” Ian asks again, halfway through his climb up on the board. “Well, take off your socks now because they might get blown off! I’mma fit!”

“Daddy!” Toe howls with laughter as he bumps his head on one of the low railings.

Beside Lip, Mickey imitates the reaction, both his hand and the phone he’s holding with it to record a video visibly shaking. When he notices Lip staring, his grin falters a little.

“These two jokers,” Mickey complains after he ends the recording. “She always laughs at everything he does like he invented comedy or some shit.”

Lip answers with a knowing smile, his chest feeling full of warmth.

Seriously, how the fuck did they get here?

#toe fic 🍅#my fics #gallavich fic #shameless fanfiction

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lordabovehelpme · 3 years

Text

No, But I am Trying- Din Djarin x Reader

Forget Me Not Masterlist

This is the highly requested part two to Do you Remember?

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!

Summary: After a long week, you and your husband try to work through the new routine. (I suck at summaries, just please read it, you won’t be disappointed.)

Warnings: memory loss, a tad bit of angst, mostly flufff

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It’s been a long and hard week. Your husband has been telling you all about your life before. But none of it has stuck. He asks you everyday if you remember something, and it pains you when you have to tell him no. It hurts to see those eyes glimmer in excitement but then to snuff out as he tries to hide his disappointment.

“Oh well, it was worth a shot.”

“Yeah, maybe soon.”

It’s always maybe. That’s a word you’ve come to appreciate more these past few days. Maybe. Not never and yet not when. He gives you the chance but still doesn’t expect you to remember. The perfect balance.

You appreciate this, how much he has been supporting you recently. However, you still feel awkward around him. You have no idea what your relationship was like before and how you acted. And so the two of you have been moving at your pace.

He still hugs and touches you: hands on shoulders or lips on foreheads. But he doesn’t ask anything of you. The worst is when he reaches out and stops himself, realizing that you’re not the same anymore. He doesn’t think you notice it, but you do. And to make it even more terrible, you want him to reach out, to show you what it was like before.

Sleeping arrangements have been… interesting recently. You both decided for the time being, you having your own space is the best option. So thus, he has set up your old bunk before the two of you got together. He offered you as many blankets as your heart desired. Big fluffy comforters and soft blankets with firm pillows. His excuse being, “Don��t want you to get cold.”

Tonight is no different, after saying your goodnights you pad over to the bunk and climb in under all the sheets. Enveloped in what you imagine as his arms, but in reality are just too many blankets that smell too heavily of him.

You toss and turn, trying to quiet your racing mind. It just feels lonely. More lonely than you’ve felt before. Usually once you fall asleep you forget all about these dreadful feelings. But tonight it seems even more powerful. Like if you don’t go to him you’ll suffocate.

But you can’t. The two of you agreed that at night time it’s alone time. Plus, he probably has enjoyed his own space, a quiet area where he can think and ponder. But, you already know you’re not getting any sleep tonight.

Cursing at yourself, you bite the bullet and stand up, keeping one blanket wrapped around you. You walk over to the shut door of his bunk and just stand there. Leaning back and forth you weigh the pros and cons of actually being here. But before you can the door slides open.

“Cyare?” His head lifts from the blanket, eyes still closed as his curls fall to frame his face.

“Oh umm, hi.”

“What are you doing?” He slides up to sit. When you give no answer he turns to face you. He leans his back against the wall and opens his thighs, making a spot perfect for your body. “C’mere, won’t bite.” His voice is gruff and raspy from sleep.

Slowly nodding your head, you slide in up against him. Your back fits right in against his chest. His arms wrap around your shoulders and pull you closer. Strong and powerful thighs frame your figure. His large feet stick out from the blanket.

You rest your head on his shoulder and close your eyes. His own head tilts down and presses a kiss to your neck before falling back against the wall.

It’s warm in his embrace. His hold promises you security. It’s nice. To be held as if he let’s go you’ll fade away. To feel small and tucked away from the world. As if no one and no thing can reach you besides him. Your chest swells with adoration and relief at his silent whisper of protection.

You feel safe… in a way you never have before.

In this moment he holds you down to earth. Like an anchor to a ship. Or the thread that leads to a kite.

Before you can even register it, tears have started to fall from your eyes. They roll down your cheeks and land in large drops on your arm.

“Hey, hey, why are you crying?”

Taking one shaky breath, you nuzzle into his neck further. “I don’t know to be honest.”

You can feel his head bob as he gives a slow nod, his mind working to try and find a response. His hand lifts up and wipes away the fresh tears. “Are you sad?”

Shaking your head, more tears fall. “I think they’re happy tears.”

“Happy tears?” His voice is even more hushed, he’s not really asking you, more repeating what you said so it can process a little faster. “Why are you so happy?” He nips at your neck, his facial hair tickling your skin.

“Umm.” You stop and truly try to find a reason. “I think it’s because I’ve never felt so safe before.” Trying to think back, you can’t bring up any memory where you’ve felt as secure.

Your husband slowly nods his head, egging you to continue.

“Like, I just… right now, in your arms, I feel like nothing can harm me. And I guess, now that I’m thinking about it, I’ve never really had that feeling before.” The both of you stay silent for a moment. “It’s nice.”

His arms give you a squeeze. “Cyare I-... you have no idea what this means to me.” His lips kiss the top of your head. “I wish I had the words to tell you how I feel, but I don’t.” His head falls into the spot between your neck and your shoulder.

You can hear the sadness in his voice. “It’s alright, just you being here tells me everything I need to know.” One of your hands trails up to softly comb through his curls. He stays still, breathing in your scent.

How is this man able to do this to you? To break down every single one of your walls and yet still make you feel empowered.

“Did you do this a lot before…?”

“Do what?”

“Hold me. Like how you are now.”

He leans away from your neck, his head falling against the wall as he looks up towards the ceiling in thought. From the soft light of the buttons and switches in the Crest you can see his eyes start to water. “Many times.”

“Oh.”

Oh is all you can say. It’s all your mind can offer you right now. Because yet again you’ve disappointed him. Why can’t you remember these things?

“Let me try something?”

You look at him and nod.

Slowly his hands reach for your face as he urges you to face him. When you do, he rests his forehead against your own. You watch as he closes his eyes, and you follow him. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, par gar cuyir ner kar’ta.” He murmurs that phrase back to you like a chant.

It’s almost like a tidal wave has overcome you. Memories of him doing the exact same thing flood your brain. In public, in private, everywhere and anywhere. Whenever you sat next to him he uttered those words to you. Such a simple phrase and yet it holds so much meaning.

Gasping you open your eyes and take his cheeks into your palms. “I- I remembered.”

His dewy eyes open in a flash and he stares right into your own orbs. “What did you remember?” He can’t mask the excitement in his voice.

“This.” You press a kiss to his lips. “I remember how whenever I was near you, this is what you would say to me. Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, par gar cuyir ner kar’ta. I know you forever, for you are my heart.”

His own tears have started to fall as he smiles. “You do remember!”

“I do!” You both laugh as he pulls you into a strong hug.

“Oh cyare. I love you so much.” His cheeks are wet from his own tears.

“I love you too.”

He slides the two of you down, so you are laying on the bed. You pepper his cheeks with kisses and finally settle down on his chest.

Speaking to you in mando’a, his voice acts as a lullaby as you finally fall asleep. Your emotions exhausted from happiness, sadness, and excitement all balled into one big draining emotion. But it’s given the two of you light.

A wish.

A glimmer of hope.

No…

A promise to get your memories back.

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

Next part: Let me try something?

Please consider reblogging or leaving a comment- it really helps me out and it also makes my day! You guys are like the funniest people.

Anyway, I hope you liked it! :)

Love, Lordy

Masterlist

Taglist: @ficthots @along-the-lines-of-space @jedi-jesi @coldlilheart @remmysbounty @t3a-bag

If you want to be added/removed from my taglist- just give me a holler and I’ll happily do it. :)

#din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando #mando x reader #the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #forget me not

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imagine-loki · 3 years

Text

Loki's Daughter

TITLE: Loki’s Daughter CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 13: The Grimoire of Curses AUTHOR: traveling_classicist ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Avengers: Endgame AU Loki that gets away with tesseract has been using it to explore the universe. During his adventures, he comes across a little girl with developing but oppressed magical abilities. Intrigued (and subconsciously lonely) Loki keeps her around. RATING: T

AO3 Link: Here NOTES/WARNINGS: None for this chapter. Enjoy!

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Loki had scoured over his new collection of books on curses. He was becoming increasingly frustrated with each discourse he picked up; more frustrated and more discouraged. Kuna, on the other hand, enjoyed her new freedoms. The freedom to explore where she wanted, eat when she wanted, sleep when she wanted.

She could even play, something she had always really wanted to do but was always forbidden from doing. The strangest part of all: she didn’t have to work. Ever. In fact, Loki actively stopped her from cleaning, tidying, cooking, or any other attempts at non-child-like behavior, and promptly pushed her outside to play.

Loki had even begun to teach her how to read and write. He had spread out a large piece of paper in front of her and taught her how to hold a quill and dip it in ink and write out the Asgardian futhark. She had never been so excited in her whole life. She memorized the whole futhark in just a few minutes. She learned how to write hers and Loki’s names and the names of her toys. Loki was a good teacher. Kuna was convinced he knew everything there was to know.

Now, she was able to write whole sentences and read short stories in their storybooks. Loki even made up stories for her to read which were her favorite.

One day, Loki sat in their hammock grumbling at another book, while Kuna swatted at an imaginary beast with a stick. She had learned to be quiet when Loki was reading because he wanted to concentrate on his books, so she kept her stories about slaying imaginary beasts inside her head.

“Arrgh, I’ve had enough of this!” Loki slammed the book closed.

Kuna jumped, dropping her stick. Her shoulders drooped and her head hung low. She looked up cautiously, afraid she had caused his angry outburst.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t yell like that. What do you want to do today, Kuna?” he asked.

“Me?” she asked, shyly.

“Yes, you,” he said. “I can’t take any more of these bloody books today. So, what do you want to do?”

Kuna had never been asked this question before, so it required much thought. She walked over to the hammock and crawled into it beside Loki. She tapped her finger against her lips in thought.

“Mmm. Will you teach me how to fight monsters?” she asked finally.

“How to fight monsters,” Loki repeated.

Kuna nodded, excitedly.

“That’s very specific.”

Kuna continued nodding.

“All right, come on!” Loki jumped out of the hammock. It flipped over, depositing Kuna on the ground. She hopped up, undisturbed, and ran for their satchel with the silver dagger.

Loki snatched it up. “Nope!” He stopped her at arm’s length with a hand on her head.

She giggled, trying to reach for the satchel.

“You’re going to learn with this.” He gave her the wooden dagger he had bought for her on Tenanci’i.

“Aww,” Kuna pouted.

“Stand up straight!” Loki commanded.

Kuna stood as tall as she could. Loki adjusted her feet until she stood about shoulder width. He positioned her left hand on the hilt of the dagger.

“When your other hand, your off hand, is empty, it’s going to balance you,” he said. “Don’t let it fall to your side like a dead fish.” Kuna chuckled at this. “Keep it up and always moving. You can use it to punch with, like this,” -he showed her a quick jab- “or to block.”

Kuna copied his movements. He began to call out actions for her to do, holding the dagger in a downward position in her left hand. When she was able to do this on command, Loki began teaching her movements with the dagger.

“It’s not all about stabbing, even though that’s pretty fun,” Loki said.

Kuna giggled, pretending to stab him.

He laughed and gently took her wrist, positioning the dagger in different ways. “You can slice and cut, forward and back, up and down, hack, and even stab with a dagger,” he explained, moving Kuna’s hand with each word. “They’re very multifunctional weapons. You can even throw it if you’re in a pinch.”

“But then I wouldn’t have a dagger anymore.”

“Very clever,” Loki said. “It should never be your first move if this is your only weapon. And there are better weapons for throwing anyways. Only throw this if it’s your last resort and you know you’ve got a clean shot. Otherwise, you’ll be in trouble.”

“Hmm.” Kuna weighed the wooden dagger in her hand. She turned it over and made a swipe at the air.

“Good,” Loki said. “Now, faster. Put more power behind it.”

She made the same movement again, swinging harder. “Don’t lose control,” Loki instructed. He readjusted her stance, and she struck the air again. “Better.”

They continued with different moves and attacks until Kuna was out of breath.

“Take a break,” Loki said, giving her one of their canteens. He smiled at her. “You learn quickly. I don’t even think I picked up a weapon this fast.”

Kuna could barely contain her happiness. She took the canteen and drank. The cold water felt good. She laid back in the grass under the trees.

“Do you think I could fight as good as you someday?” Kuna asked.

“Let’s find out,” Loki said. “Come and get me.”

A wooden knife, like a giant splinter, dug into the ground to the right of Kuna’s head. She gasped and rolled to the side, grabbing her own dagger. She came up on one knee and looked for Loki.

“That was impressive,” he said. Kuna ran towards his voice. He rose up out of a bush. She jumped up and slashed at him, but he disappeared.

“Hey!” she cried as she crashed through the bush. “You can’t use magic!”

“Why not?” his voice came from behind her.

“That’s cheating!”

“There’s no cheating in a fight, little raven,” he said, laughing as she bounded through another illusion. “You have to use what you’ve got. And I have magic.”

Kuna fell through another Loki. She stood and looked around. Something hard hit her in the back of the head.

“Ouch!” She looked down at an acorn rolling at her foot and frowned.

“And I have acorns,” Loki taunted. “What have you got?”

Kuna looked at her dagger. It wasn’t really helping her if all the Lokis were ghosts. Another acorn whistled towards her, this one from her right. She swung the dagger and blocked it with a satisfying thwack. A smile spread across her face.

“Don’t celebrate too long,” Loki chuckled from behind her. “Or you’ll be dead.”

She whipped around and dodged Loki’s arm as it came down to hit her. She stabbed at his leg, and he disappeared just as she had expected him too. With this Loki gone, she ran to the bushes to her left and pounced into them. She came down on an empty patch of dirt and twigs.

“Too slow!” Loki sang.

Kuna growled. She ran to the nearest tree and climbed up into the branches.

“Now, we’re using our brain. I was beginning to think you forgot it was there,” Loki taunted her.

She followed the sound of his voice and jumped through the trees towards it. An acorn smacked the back of her head. She turned to find the Loki that threw it and saw two Lokis, one in the tree and the other on the ground.

“Now, concentrate,” they both said. “Which one is me?”

Jumping towards the one in the tree, she made a quick jab at him, which he easily avoided. He gave her a good shove, sending her forward off the branch. She stretched out her arm and grabbed a lower branch, swinging to the ground. She felt a thump on the ground behind her and turned, slashing wildly with her dagger at the Loki that had dropped from the tree, but he disappeared.

Another appeared behind her, then another and another until there was a circle of Lokis surrounding her. She turned in a circle, trying to figure out which one was the real one. They each smiled at her devilishly.

Then a blue glow began to radiate from one of the Lokis to her left. A soft, lilting melody drifted on the air. She turned and leapt onto the glowing Loki, slashing at him. She crawled up his body and onto his back like a monkey.

“Ahh!” he screamed. The other Lokis vanished. She had caught the real one.

She raised her hand to stab him, but he caught her wrist and pulled her off his back.

“Aww,” she whined.

“So close, little one. Very impressive but I’ve been doing this a lot longer than yo-AHHH! DID YOU JUST BITE ME?!” He let go and she dropped onto her feet, giggling. She skipped up to him and stabbed him in the tummy with her dagger.

“Stab! I win!”

“Agh! I’m dead!” Loki yelled. He fell backwards dramatically. “Blah!” He stuck out his tongue and closed his eyes and made his body go limp.

Kuna walked over and put a foot up on his chest, raising her dagger to the sky. “I’ve defeated the mighty Loki!”

“Surprise!” Loki grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down. She squealed.

“No fair! You can’t come back to life!”

“Oh, but that’s sort of my thing, love,” he said. “I can’t believe you bit me. Come here! Let me see those teeth!”

“Grrrrrr!” She growled at him, baring her teeth.

“Do you have fangs?!”

“Raaawr!” She opened her mouth wide enough for Loki to see a row of sharp teeth, like a big cat’s, running back into her mouth.

“You have got fangs!” Rolling up his sleeve, he examined his wound. “Do you have venom in those? Am I going to turn into a Kuna, now? How have I never seen those chompers you’ve got in there?”

Kuna smiled big. Only one set of her sharp fangs was visible in her smile, the rest were hidden. She growled at him again and snapped her teeth, not able to control her giggles.

“Yeah, all right. You’re very ferocious,” he said. “But no more biting! Not me at least. Bite anyone else.”

“But you said I should use what I’ve got.”

“I did say that.”

“So, I could bite in a fight?”

“Yes, it’s rather effective actually,” Loki said, rubbing his arm. He picked up the canteen that was laying on the ground and took a drink. “How did you know which Loki was me?”

“The tesseract told me,” Kuna said, flipping her dagger in the air.

Loki spit out his water. “The what?!”

“The tesseract! I concentrated on trying to find you like you said, and the tesseract told me which one you were.”

“How did it do that?” Loki asked, a serious tone in his voice.

“Y…You were glowing, and I could hear the tesseract singing so I… I knew it was you.”

Loki sat in silence for a moment, thinking. Kuna pulled her legs up to her chest.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked.

“No, you didn’t,” Loki said.

“Are you mad?”

“No. You did exactly what I would have done. I’m just concerned with how the tesseract is affecting you.”

“Why?”

“It affects people differently. Sometimes in strange ways. I’ve not known it to ‘sing’ to anyone before.”

“I like the way it sings.”

“What does it sound like?”

“Like, um, hmm…” Kuna wasn’t sure she could make the same sounds as the tesseract did. She tried to hum like it but the noise she made was not at all like the tesseract’s pretty sounds. “That’s not right. I can’t do it like the tesseract does.” She shrugged.

“Hmm. Well, I don’t hear anything.”

“Maybe your ears are clogged.”

“That’s probably it,” Loki said, chuckling.

She nodded and tried to flip the dagger in her hand again. The wooden blade smacked her hand and fell to the ground. She frowned at it. Loki picked it up.

“If that had been real, you would have lost fingers,” he said. “Watch carefully.” He flipped the dagger in the air and caught it effortlessly. “It’s all in the wrist.”

He smoothly turned the dagger over and offered the hilt to Kuna to try. She took it. She timed a toss of the dagger and it flipped gracefully, catching it by the handle this time. She smiled and looked up at Loki.

“Well done,” he said. “Just wait until you can do it with two at the same time.”

“Ooooh,” Kuna breathed.

Loki conjured two daggers and showed her a smooth double dagger flip. The glint of the daggers shown over Kuna’s face. She was overjoyed. She could not wait to start training with two daggers. She wanted to be just like Loki.

“I wanna try!” she said.

“I don’t think you’re ready for these yet,” Loki responded. “Weapons like these need to be treated with respect. They’re sharp and they’ll easily cut off those fingers of yours or more if you’re not careful.”

Kuna frowned.

“You’ll get there, little raven,” Loki said, tussling her hair. “Come on, let’s go inside and get something to eat.”

At the thought of food, Kuna happily bounded past Loki and jumped through the door. Loki had finally figured out a way to keep the door open, so he did not have to awkwardly squish through the awful honey-like material. Kuna bounced around the tent, gracefully avoiding the stacks of books Loki had left everywhere. She parried and jabbed with her dagger at invisible enemies.

Loki made her a sandwich from their supplies as she played. He frowned at the basket that kept their food. It was getting dangerously close to being empty. They would need to teleport somewhere to get more supplies soon, but there was enough for them to eat for the rest of the day.

He handed Kuna the sandwich as she hopped by. She barely stopped as she began stuffing bites of it into her mouth.

“No, no. Come, settle down,” Loki scolded. “You’ll upset your stomach, jumping around and eating like that.”

“Hmm,” Kuna mumbled and plopped down across from Loki. She held her sandwich in two hands and took big bites.

Loki frowned at her. “Do you even taste your food?”

“Mmm-hmm!” she nodded, cheeks bulging with sandwich. “It tastes so good!”

“Fair enough,” he said, taking a dainty bite of his own sandwich. He picked up a book and opened it setting it on one leg while he ate.

Kuna watched him. She sat up straighter and crossed her legs. She remade her sandwich, which had fallen apart in her eagerness to eat. Sitting up tall, like Loki, she took a small bite of her sandwich and chewed slowly. Loki turned a page and took another bite of his sandwich and Kuna did the same.

Loki caught on quickly to this game of pantomime. Without looking up from his book, he raised his sandwich to his mouth, Kuna following his movements. Before taking a bite, he lowered his hand and turned another page. He could see Kuna frown at being denied a bite but lowering her sandwich into her lap as well.

He lifted the sandwich again to his mouth and then looked across at Kuna. She stopped cold as if caught doing something bad. Loki lowered the sandwich, keeping eye contact. Kuna copied him. He quickly jolted the sandwich back up towards his mouth and Kuna did the same. His eyes narrowed. Then he smiled.

In a quick movement, he tossed the sandwich over his shoulder. Kuna gasped. Loki raised his eyebrows at her, daring her to copy him. She shook her head and shoved the rest of the sandwich in her mouth. He rolled his eyes and laughed.

“I don’t waste food,” Kuna said, mouth full.

“That’s very good,” he replied, revealing his own sandwich that he had hidden in a quick invisibility spell. “Neither do I.”

Kuna’s mouth fell open, chewed food showing on her tongue.

“Eww, gross, Kuna! Swallow that!” Loki laughed.

Kuna giggled and swallowed her food.

“Speaking of, we’re starting to run low on food,” Loki said, his tone changing.

Kuna glanced around nervously.

“It’s fine,” Loki consoled her, seeing her anxiety. “I mean to say, we’ll need to go shopping for more. I’m not going to let you go hungry.”

This comforted Kuna. “Where will we go?”

“I’m not sure yet. But I think we’ll need to pack up camp and move entirely. I don’t want to stay here for much longer.”

“Oh, but I like it here.”

“It is very peaceful here, isn’t it?”

Kuna nodded.

“But I think we’d get bored if we stayed here forever.”

Kuna cocked her head to one side, confused.

“Well, it’s nice, sure. But there’s no one else here but us. No creatures, no people. No excitement. I think we’d get bored.”

“Hmm.” Kuna thought about this. The excitement she had had with Loki regarding creatures and people so far had been mostly scary and life-threatening. “No, I like it here. I wouldn’t get bored.”

“I bet you would.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“You mean to tell me you don’t want to see all the beautiful planets out there in the universe? All the systems and stars and galaxies?”

Kuna thought even harder. All the beautiful things the tesseract had shown her had captivated her mind and visited her dreams for nights. She wanted to see them all.

“Is it safe?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Loki said. Kuna paled. “But you have me with you and I’ll keep you safe.”

She relaxed a little.

“And now that you’re learning to fight, you can defend yourself, too.”

Kuna nodded, thinking about their lesson and her dagger.

“So, what do you think?”

“I guess so. As long as we’re together.”

“Always,” Loki said, smiling at her.

They spent the rest of the day relaxing. Loki attending to his research and Kuna studying her letters. As the day wound down, Kuna had her supper and fell asleep on her bedroll, cuddling her toys. Loki, surrounded by stacks of books, lit a small, dim orb of light with his magic so he could continue reading without disturbing Kuna.

He looked across the several stacks of books around him. He had taken hundreds. When they were in Odin’s study, he had seen how difficult it was for Kuna to catch all the books he was tossing to her in his raven form, so he had begun storing them himself, whisking away entire shelves of books into his pocket universe in some cases. As long as they were in the sections about curses, he could figure out if they were of use later.

Loki reached for a new book but bumped another stack with his elbow. It fell over, scattering across the floor. He grit his teeth at the sound and peeked at Kuna. She turned over and squeezed her dragon. Loki let out a sigh of relief and then groaned at the mess on the floor. He started to pick up a few books, when a large black volume caught his eye. It was quite old, embossed with ancient Asgardian runes that had been rubbed nearly clean of their golden sheen. However, what caught his eye was not the antiquated runes of a long dead language but deep cuts in the leather of the cover in the modern Asgardian runes.

BEWARE

DO NOT OPEN

EVIL RESIDES

“Well, that’s a little dramatic,” Loki said.

He picked up the ancient tome and sat back slowly onto the floor, crossing his legs. As he held it, he could feel a dark resonance emanating through his aura. He looked closely at the book and found it was not black leather at all, but that the book had been heavily burned. The ends of the pages too had been blackened in the flames. At some point, someone had tried to remove some of the charring on the cover, but the book would have been a total loss by any library’s standards.

“Seems like someone tried to burn you,” Loki muttered. He turned the book back over to the eerie message carved into the front. “And you clearly resisted.”

The graffitist had tried to destroy the embossed title of the book, but the restorer had succeeded in revealing what was left of the title.

G—M—IRE –F C—ES by ——————- ———————–

“A “Grimoire of Curses”, you say? You sound perfect. I’m gonna open it,” he said, deviously. He could almost hear his father admonishing him for not heeding the rather specific warning on the cover. “I don’t negotiate with book defacers. Or book burners.”

He gently opened the cover, and the title page confirmed his guesswork.

GRIMOIRE OF CURSES

THE QUEEN OF DEATH

“’The Queen of Death’,” Loki read. “How delightful.”

He chuckled at the author’s absurd name and then flipped to the next page.

It felt suddenly as if a lump had caught in his throat. He swallowed hard. The more Loki read, the heavier his chest began to feel. The resonance he had felt in his magic before began to grow. The air felt thick with each breath he took. It felt as if a whirlpool had started in the page break and was slowly sucking him in. He shook his head and blinked, steeling himself, strengthening his aura against this onslaught.

The book was clearly cursed itself and he was certain for any novice sorcerer it would be impossible not to be corrupted by it. But he was no novice. He let out an exasperated breath.

“You won’t hide your secrets from me.”

The book seemed to react to his determination. He felt a pain in his head like he had been hit with an axe. He felt cold. He’d never felt cold. He shook his head and glanced up at Kuna.

“I’m doing this for her,” he said under his breath. He felt the thickness subside and turned to the next page.

He searched the book for Kuna’s curse, his shaky finger tracing down the lengthy column of curses in the table of contents.

“Curse of agony, blah, blah, curses of fear, of frenzy, da, da, da, of lies, of leaping, oh my, of melting flesh? No, no, no, Loki, we’re here for a reason,” he stopped himself, pulling his eyes away from the page and taking a deep breath before looking back again. “Da, da, da, of poison, oh, of possession. Stop! ‘T’ where are the ‘T’s””

He stopped abruptly on an entry:

CURSE OF TIED TONGUE

As he turned to the pages and began to read through the ritual for cursing an individual with a tied tongue, the blood began to drain from his face. He clenched his jaw so tight his teeth began to hurt. The heaviness he had pushed out began to creep back over him. His ears began to ring. With each step he read to this vicious ritual, a pit in his stomach grew.

“Restrain the victim, if possible, for they will struggle incessantly to escape. Some form of hypnosis or mind control will also suffice. For ease of the caster’s concentration, keep also the victim’s mouth gagged for the duration of the ritual, except for final steps.”

Loki tried unsuccessfully to block out the image of a restrained and frightened Kuna from his mind. He grunted in frustration and forced himself to focus.

“Force the victim into a state of agony - by any means of the caster’s choosing - whilst chanting the following incantation which bars them from speaking of the caster’s chosen subject.”

Through the din of ringing that had begun in his ears, Loki thought he heard Kuna scream. His breath caught in his throat as he sat up hard against the wall. There was absolute silence in the tent, save for Loki’s ragged breathing. He looked at Kuna, fast asleep on her bedroll.

“Kuna?” he whispered.

“Mmmm,” Kuna hummed softly in her sleep, undisturbed.

Loki closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. He opened his eyes and looked down at the book. He felt exhausted. Slowly, he opened the book again to the page he had been reading.

“When the ritual is complete, the victim can be released. They will no longer be able to speak of subject of the caster’s choosing. Instead, the action will be replaced by the agony the caster forced upon them. Persistent attempts by the victim to speak of the subject can result in eventual amnesia in its regard. Examples of successful states of agony include pain of the body (specific or generalised), inability to breathe, inability to speak, inability to form coherent speech, etc, etc.”

Additional agonies had been scratched in the margins in different hands and inks.

“Sudden onset of singing, dancing, sleeping.

Frenzy.

Fear.

Death.

Melting flesh.

Combine ‘agonies’ to increase power of curse.”

“Gods,” Loki cringed.

He scanned further down the page, looking for how to reverse the curse. Not seeing it, he turned the page.

“UNTYING THE TONGUE”

“Gross,” Loki muttered. He ran his finger down the page, reading the instructions.

“This doesn’t seem so bad,” he said. “Actually, seems rather easy. We could do this tomorrow. Or now.”

He noticed a smudge at the end of the page and leaned closer to see. The dim light he had conjured was not the best for night reading. The little orb of light bobbed around the ceiling of the tent, occasionally flickering.

“Come over here, you stupid orb!” Loki whispered aggressively at the floating sphere. “You’re supposed to be over here! By me!”

The light tottered over, bumping into the wall as it drifted towards him.

“Useless thing,” Loki grumbled as the light settled over his head.

He leaned in close to see the smudge was actually an indication of a footnote.

“Ugh, of course, there’s always a bloody footnote.” He rolled his eyes and searched for the footnotes. The more digging he did in the book, the heavier the feeling in his aura became, and the more agitated he felt. Finally, he found them, buried in the back of the book.

“Here we go,

Only the casting sorcerer can lift a tied tongue curse. Death of the caster does not release the victim from the curse.”

Loki looked up, staring blankly across the room. He sat up and slowly closed the book. He stood and walked outside the tent into the crisp night air. His fist was clenched tight, his teeth near to cracking under the pressure of his jaw. He looked down at the book in his hand. His whole body now shaking with anger.

He threw the book as hard as he could, letting out a shout as he did. The book sailed kilometers into the darkened horizon. Loki growled and hissed. He felt the sting of tesseract energy as a portal opened beside him and the book sailed through it and smacked him in the face.

“Arrrrgh,” Loki growled. He glanced back at the tent, and Kuna still asleep inside. He swung the book around in frustration. Opening another portal to a random place, he stuck his head through and screamed with all his might.

He felt no remorse for the humans on the other side of the portal, whose dinner he appeared to have abruptly and loudly interrupted. When he had finished, his energy felt clean again, free from the book’s dark grip. His mind felt lighter, though he was still racked with rage over the conditionality of these curses.

He returned to the tent. Kuna had not moved. Loki stood over her for a moment, watching. How could someone do something so horrible to someone so small? What threat could she possibly pose to anyone to justify such drastic measures?

He shook his head. It didn’t matter now. What was done was done and he was going to undo it. He stretched and popped his back. Laying down on his bedroll next to Kuna, he watched her chest rise and fall with her gentle breathing. He pushed a lock of hair off her face and pulled the blanket up to her chin. With a flick of his hand, the dim light he had been using to read by went out and he fell asleep.

***

Kuna’s eyes opened slowly. She felt a weight on her side that had not been there when she fell asleep the night before. She looked down and saw Loki’s arm draped over her. She smiled. Very, very slowly, she turned over onto her other side to face him. She put her head on his chest and snuggled close. He didn’t push her away this time. He was still asleep.

She drifted in and out of sleep for a bit, savoring cuddle time with Loki. Light began to shine in through the windows of the tent. Kuna wondered how long Loki would sleep in. She was normally up before sunrise.

Her stomach growled. She grimaced and looked up at Loki, watching him. Carefully, she wiggled out from under his arm, replacing her toys under his arm where she had been. He snored softly but did not wake.

She stretched and yawned, then flinched at the sight of the room. There were books scattered everywhere. Loki had clearly been up reading last night. Kuna got up and started picking up books and stacking them in neat piles. She lined the walls with them, so they were out of the way. Each stack was perfectly level, spines facing out.

Finished with this task, she looked around for something else to do. Her eyes landed on a rogue book. A big, black book with scratches on the cover. She walked timidly over to it and knelt down to pick it up. Her hand hovered over the book, suspended in the air like it was repelled by a magnet. She shook her head and stood up. Something felt wrong about that book. It felt magicky. Stepping just outside the tent door, she picked up a stick and returned to the book and pushed it with the end of the stick over to the wall.

She looked over at Loki, cuddling with her toys on the floor. She had grown impatient with Loki’s excessive sleeping and so had her tummy. She laid down and crawled close to him.

“Loki?” she whispered. He did not stir. “Loki,” she said again, a little louder this time. Still there was no response. She apprehensively raised a finger and poked his arm. He snored on. Kuna frowned.

“Loki?” she asked again, a little louder. He turned onto his back, taking her toys with him. Kuna jumped and dove under her blanket. She peeked out from under to see if he was angry, but he was still asleep. Crawling closer once more, she poked him in different places, his arm, his leg, his chest, even his face, but he did not wake. She lifted her finger again and moved slowly towards his hair.

“Don’t you dare,” he said, a smile creeping across his face.

Kuna erupted in giggles. Loki sat up. He held out the stuffed animals in his hand and looked at them, confused and laughed, then grabbed Kuna putting her in his lap. She squealed with joy.

“Loki! Loki! Loki!” he mimicked, over and over, poking her chest and sides and neck. Kuna could not contain herself, she was giggling, trying to poke him back. He set her down and shook his head, laughing.

“What? What is it, child?” he asked, still laughing.

“I’m hungry,” she said, sheepishly.

“Are you?”

Kuna nodded.

“Well, we’re going to have to fix that, aren’t we?”

She nodded some more. “Yes, please.”

“Let me see here,” Loki said, as he searched the basket for some breakfast for Kuna. He pulled up only a small bit of bread. “Oh, is that it? I think it’s time for us to go shopping again.”

“Did you eat dinner last night?” Kuna asked him.

“Hmm? Oh, no, I was reading for a long time and the book was very frustrating and–” Kuna pushed Loki’s hand with the piece of bread back towards him. “And… I must have forgot. Kuna, you’re going to eat this. Don’t worry about me. We’ll go shopping today and get more. I’m fine.”

“You have to eat too,” she said.

He gave her the bread. “I’m fine. Eat this for now.”

“You eat.”

“No, you eat.”

Kuna stood and shook her head. “No, you.”

“Kuna–”

“You! Ah!” She pointed at Loki and then opened her mouth and pointed inside.

“You’re becoming very stubborn,” he said. “Who knows where you could have gotten that from.” He took a small bite out of the bread to pacify the defiant child. “Oh, you cleaned. You didn’t have to do that,” he acknowledged the tidied tent.

Kuna shrugged. “I don’t mind. But I think there’s something wrong with that book over there.”

“Which one? The black one?”

She nodded.

Loki gulped, choking a bit on the dry bread. “You didn’t open that one, did you?”

“I didn’t, I swear!” Kuna said, dropping to her knees and putting her hands over her head. “I promise! I didn’t open it. I promise!”

Loki sighed. “No – it’s all right—I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I—I just—oh, please don’t cry.”

“I promise I didn’t look at them without your permission!”

“It’s all right. I believe you. Please, don’t cry.” Loki reached forward and put his hand on Kuna’s shoulder. “I’m not upset with you, I promise.”

She looked up at him and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Scooting closer, she reached out to him, and he picked her up, setting her in his lap.

“Is that book bad? Will it make me blind?” She sniffled.

“No, no, no. It won’t blind you, darling, but it’s not a very nice book. I think it’s been cursed.”

Kuna shrank in his lap, staring at the book. “Did you open it?”

“Yes. But I’m a very powerful sorcerer so I know what to do with books like that.”

“Throw them away?”

“No!” Loki chuckled. “You don’t want to throw a book away! What if there are incredible secrets in there?”

“They should stay that way,” Kuna whispered.

“Oh, where’s your sense of adventure, Kuna? That book,” -he pointed at it- “gave me the answers to what we were looking for.”

“It did?”

“Yes. Well, sort of.”

“What did it say?”

Loki had fallen into a trap. “Um, well.” He feared unintentionally setting off Kuna’s curse by telling her about it. “It gave me instructions on how to help you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, that’s why we took all these books.” Loki was surprised by her lack of memory regarding the reasons they had gone to Asgard.

“How can a book help me? You’ve already helped me so much. You freed me and you gave me food and clothes and toys and–”

“Yes, but… well.” He ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. Kuna looked up at him inquisitively. “That book is a book about curses. All the different kinds of curses and how to perform them. That’s why I didn’t want you to read it.”

“A cursed book of curses?”

“Precisely.”

“That sounds scary,” she whispered, wrapping herself in Loki’s cape. “How is that going to help me?”

Loki hesitated. “Well, Kuna, I think someone on your home planet may have cursed you.”

Kuna’s face went blank, expressionless. She turned grey. She shook her head, first a little then frantically, side to side.

“Now, now, everything’s all right,” Loki consoled her, gently rocking her.

“No. No!” she whispered. “I’m not cursed! It’s not true!”

“Shhhh,” Loki whispered, rocking her. “I’m going to fix it.” He gently stroked her hair and hugged her, holding her tight.

“I don’t have any magic, sir!”

Loki closed his eyes. He had triggered her curse. With time, she calmed down, clutching a handful of his hair. She sniffled and occasionally let out a sob.

“Look at me, darling. Do you remember who did this to you?”

“No,” she whispered.

“You told me once someone hurt you with magic,” Loki said. “Who was that?”

Kuna shifted uncomfortably, rubbing her arms. “Sometimes when I was bad, my masters would use their magic to punish me. It hurt a lot.”

“Mmm,” Loki nodded, hugging her again. “I’m sorry, darling. They were horrible people. I doubt were ever truly ‘bad’.”

Kuna stared at the ground.

“I’m guessing these Masters don’t let slaves use magic,” Loki said.

“Oh no!” Kuna exclaimed. “For a slave to have magic is the worst sin imaginable! If a slave has magic,” -she shuddered with fear- “all the masters slaves must be culled, and the slave’s family too.”

“My, that seems a bit much,” Loki said.

Kuna shook her head. “Slaves shouldn’t have magic. They would use it for evil things.”

“And who told you that?”

“The Masters,” they both said in unison. Loki nodded.

“Yes, I’m starting to understand,” Loki said, rolling his eyes. “What sorts of evil things would a slave use magic for?”

“Slaves are weak, and magic makes weak people do bad things. Slaves would use magic to trick and steal and kill people.”

Loki put both hands on either side of Kuna’s head. “My child, you have been brainwashed.”

Kuna put her hands on Loki’s. “No one’s washed my brains!”

“No, it means that these Masters on your home-system have forced you to believe all these things that are not true so that they can continue doing whatever they want to you.”

She gasped. “With magic?”

“Mmm, no. Propaganda can be just as powerful as magic.”

“Propa-what-now?”

“Propaganda. I’ll explain later, what’s important is that they are very wrong about slaves and magic and you.”

Kuna looked down at the ground again. She did not know what to think. The Masters had never been wrong about anything. Ever. At least, not that she could remember.

“Kuna,” Loki said. She looked up at him. He wiped the tears off her cheek with his thumb. “I know this is a lot to take in. It isn’t easy learning that your life has been a lie, believe me. But I’m going to make things better for you. Do you trust me, darling?”

Kuna nodded and hugged him tight.

#Loki #God of Mischief #Father #Submitted fic #Loki's Daughter #traveling_classicist #chapter 13

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starcrossedkaiju · 3 years

Text

Kingslayer AU: Chapter 11

The big one! This literally took weeks to complete. I wanted it to be done.

We are inching ever closer to the end of this arc. Two more chapters I think.

This one is much longer than the recent ones, but don’t worry. That theme most likely won’t continue.

Warnings: // non-explicit blood, violence, and injury, Major Character Death(s) \\

Scar called upon all of his allies on an exceptionally cold evening, a wicked blizzard was blowing through the server as Scott walked hand in hand with Jimmy through the white-out. Even the desert wasn’t spared from the stirring storm.

A broken line of lights were ascending up Monopoly Mountain, all headed to the same meeting.

When everyone had arrived, warm drinks were passed around. Cleo, Bdubs, Tango, Scott, Jimmy, Grian, and the resident Enderman were huddled in the living area.

Scott was biting his nails, so to speak. He was pretty sure he knew what they were there for; and he was not excited. He sat next to Jimmy and begged that the Red Desert wasn’t going to start a war with Dogwarts. It was going to happen sooner or later, everyone knew that, but Scott felt an ounce of selfishness.

Things were going so well.

He was starting to feel like he was on the wrong side of history. Sitting in that room, Scott had been to Dogwarts after Grain and Scar had tried to burn Skiz’s banner. He was in the room when they started talking about war; and here he was again. In a room talking about war.

He was there for quiet conversations about nonstop threats from Scar and Grian, how they were going to protect themselves, and questioning why it had to be them.

Pizza was dead. The air was unstable, everyone could feel it.

Scar began talking about a plan to trap the Sand Castle. Grian was confident that their new bunker would protect them well enough and had even started moving their things out. Dogwarts was to be baited into the castle where Scar would be waiting for them, to pull the trigger and blow the entire building to smithereens with the Red Army inside.

The thought of it made Scott’s insides turn. He’d already jeopardized his entire mission by falling for Dogwarts, becoming their friend when he was supposed to hate them, he kicked up the dirt when he suggested that Etho’s house was flammable, another slip up and the house of cards he’d built could be pulled down around him.

The whole meeting Scott just sat on the couch feeling sick. Too cowardly to say it was wrong. When he knew it was wrong. Like always, he let someone else steer his life for him. Scott watched as everyone agreed and started leaving. A feeling of distance fell upon him as he walked back home, Jimmy in the lead this time.

Tomorrow. He only had until tomorrow to decide whose side he was on. Scott stared at the ceiling in bed, he knew he wouldn’t be seeing a second of sleep when his pager started beeping. Already knowing who it was, Scott quietly left the house once more.

Dogwarts was eerily silent on top, but a quiet conversation emitted from the living quarters. Every member was sat around the room conversing with each other about their plan of attack. Tango shot him a glance when he entered the room, his eyes went wide and he excused himself from his conversation with Joel.

“Scott?” He whispered scoldingly when he was close enough, shoving the other to the most empty side of the room.

“I can’t do this Tango, I’m telling them,” Scott whispered.

“What? No, no, no, you can’t back out now! My god- Scott how could you even come here?” Tango hissed through his teeth.

“This is wrong! You know it’s wrong! I can’t just stand by anymore, I can’t do this to them,” Scott tried to keep his composure. He pleaded.

“And what about the others? What about you? Us?” Tango asked, his face was pale.

Scott closed his eyes, he’d done everything in his power to give as little information as he could about the Red Desert Alliance to Dogwarts. He wanted to protect people, of course, but he knew there was no escaping the war. Even if he didn’t say anything tonight. Something would happen tomorrow.

His friends were wrong, he’d grown enough to see that.

“I’m sorry,” he said, drowning out the lump in his throat and turning away from Tango, who yanked his sleeve in a last ditch effort. It was too late.

Scott strode over to Ren, tapping him on the shoulder. The Red King looked down, dismissing Etho and addressing Scott.

“Hey dude,” he greeted.

Scott’s hands shook as he formulated his admission, “The Red Desert is going to war with you tomorrow,” he said. Plain and simple.

The horrific shock on Tango and Impulse’s faces could easily be read as concern for the Red Army.

Scott felt like he shrunk to the size of an atom as everyone took turns looking at each other. Ren brought a steady hand to his chin, resting it on his knuckles in thought. The lights glared pure white off his glasses.

He walked to the table in the middle of the room and gazed upon the map, leaning over it to ponder. Scott fell back against the wall, his heart was pounding in his ears. He wasn’t even paying attention when Ren started firing off about their plan of action.

He wasn’t listening when Tango yelled at him on the way home. All he could think about was what the hell he was going to do now.

The jig was certainly going to be up tomorrow. Someone was going to be accused of spying, and when one of them went down, so would the rest.

What would Jimmy think of him? Should he just come clean? Admit to joining the Red Army on accident and let him figure out how he felt about it?

It didn’t matter. Scott had three hours to rest his eyes, and spend possibly the last peaceful night he would ever have with his husband.

The morning was spent mostly in silence. Scott gathered his weapons and stocked his arsenal with potions. He stared at the wall and went over the situation in his head. Preparing goodbyes, apology speeches, everything he could think of that might go wrong.

“Hey,” Jimmy came up behind him, taking a fire resistant potion out of his hand, “I was scared you were gonna drop it if you floated away any further,” he sat down on the workbench.

“Are you scared?” he asked, taking Scott’s hand and interlocking their fingers.

Scott closed his eyes, leaning his head on Jimmy’s shoulder. He nodded his head, not in the mood to lie.

“So am I,” Jimmy confessed, “just promise me something?” he tucked Scott’s stray hairs behind his ears.

“No goodbyes,” he said. As if he was swearing it into existence.

Scott nodded, doing his best to smile optimistically. He held out his pinkie finger in a gesture of promise. Jimmy hooked his own pinkie around it and shook it a bit, leaning forwards to touch foreheads with the other before leaving to get his armor.

They left at dawn and shivered all the way to the Red Desert. It was exceptionally cold that morning. Like the weather was also fighting in their war. A small group of people was gathered at the bottom of Monopoly Mountain. Most of them were sat sharpening their weapons and counting their arrows. Scott spotted Tango and shot him the most apologetic look he could manage before excusing himself to talk to him.

“Tango,” Scott started.

“You know they’re going to be here any second,” Tango said, “so why don’t you tell us about the plan like you did for them?”

Scott was making his mind up about what he should say when an arrow shot into the sand near his feet. He looked up, scanning the tree line.

It was too late.

Everyone gathered on the sand snapped to attention, drawing their weapons and forming a group opposite to the Red Army. Scar was shaking his head, asking himself how this could happen. Scott walked wearily to the frontlines, his free hand was taken by Jimmy.

Everyone in the Red Desert looked at each other, then Scar raised his bow, and that was it.

Scott was jumped by Impulse. Better him than anyone else, even if his blows were a bit harder due to bitterness. They went back and forth stealing glances at the rest of the battle where a few mounds had been constructed to hide behind.

Impulse kicked Scott onto his back and kneeled on his stomach, taking his air. He leaned in, sparing nervous glances to their surroundings.

“I hope you got your fill of righteousness,” he hissed.

Scott gasped for air, “this was going to happen whether I had a part in it or not,” he said.

“How could you?!” Impulse shouted, but whatever else he was going to say was stolen when Bdubs rushed him from the side, throwing both of them off of Scott and into their own cloud of dust.

Scott breathed in a lung full of dust and rolled over, stumbling to his feet and spinning around to gauge the battle. It was a blur. His mind flew to looking for Jimmy. Someone grabbed his wrist and pulled him behind a shield, where a stray arrow plunged into the wood.

“Where is Grian?” Tango shook Scott’s arm, sweat was rolling down his face through a coat of brown dust.

“I don’t know! I haven’t seen him since..” Scott froze.

Tango seemed to read the pallid expression on his face and nodded encouragingly.

Scott didn’t finish his sentence. He threw himself to his feet and sprinted across the battlefield, towards the border of the desert. A series of blueprints he’d seen all those weeks ago flashed through his head as he ran. Dodging arrows and slamming into his fellow server mates.

Finally, he rounded a barricade and saw what he was hoping not to see. A few hundred yards away, Scar was taking Ren and Martyn in battle. Inching ever closer to a disarmingly empty plot of land. Scott knew that if you weren’t aware, you’d barely be able to see the tiny windows sticking out of the sand.

“Scar!” he called out.

Nobody heard him.

Even if they did, there was no time.

The ground under his feet rumbled, causing him to drop his weapon before a flash of pure light pierced the air. He heard screams for a moment, but they were quickly drowned out by a wall of fire ejecting itself from the ground. Scott was knocked off his feet and launched through the air.

He hit the ground with a painful thud, but he didn’t come to a stop until he’d bounced head over heels a few feet further.

Scott’s nose was pressed into the ground as he rolled around in pain. He pushed himself to his knees with shaking arms.

In front of him was a gigantic, jagged crater carved into the ground. Smoke and fire billowed from its crude maw. Scott coughed and tried to wave away the suffocating ash to no avail. It permeated his eyes and throat.

Scott realized he had been rendered deaf for the moment, and partially blind for that matter. He struggled to his feet and outstretched his arms for balance, falling over twice before his purchase returned to him.

Someone grabbed his arms from behind and spun him around, touching his face and holding him up steadily.

“I can’t hear!” Scott shouted, pointing to his ears in case whoever it was didn’t understand him.

“Can’t see you,” he pointed at his eyes and then at where he assumed the person was.

The person took his hand and formed it into a fist, then interlocked their pinkie with his own.

“Jimmy?” Scott asked, he rubbed his eyes but his hands were taken away. Jimmy positioned his face gently and he felt water in his eyes, washing away the charred debris.

His vision returned to him as the stinging in his eyes subsided. Not so much the same for his hearing, but that was okay. Jimmy hugged him close and looked him over one more time, before tracing the word “stay” on Scott’s palm.

Scott nodded, watching the other go off into the smoke. Probably to help people.

Something moved in his peripheral vision. Through the black smoke came a figure. Scott recognized it as Scar. He was climbing out of the crater. His movements looked painful, he was dragging something behind him.

It became apparent when he hoisted the object over the edge of the crater that Scar was dragging a limp Grian behind him. He laid the other out on the sand, hovering over him with concern etched on his face.

Scott crawled over, shouting to see if Scar could hear him. He pointed at his ears and shook his head. Scott wished he knew human sign language.

Scar turned his attention back to attempting to wake Grian, who wasn’t moving. He didn’t even seem to be breathing. Sensing that Scar was beginning to get very upset, Scott told him to sit back.

First he tried patting Grian on the chest, tapping his forehead, then observing him for any sign of breathing. His lips weren’t blue yet, he was still alive. Scott took his fist and pressed it deeply into Grian’s sternum, then firmly rubbed up and down.

Grian didn’t move at first, then his eyes flew open under his cracked glasses. His arms shot up to cover his chest and he cursed profusely at how he’d been woken up. He’d probably have a bruise for a while.

Scott motioned for him to calm down and breathe. Count to ten and back, and so on. Grian followed his instructions, wiping the dirt from his face and off his probably useless glasses.

Once he was sure Grian and Scar were fine, he quietly excused himself. The dust has started to clear now and the silhouettes of Dogwarts and the Red Desert alike were milling around, nobody seemed to be fighting anymore. Presumably lost without their respective captains. Scott’s ears has started ringing, and behind the din he could hear the ghosts of people shouting.

Scott idly counted the people around him. Some were huddled over a hastily constructed furnace attempting to brew last minute healing potions. As he counted, he kept coming up short. He counted again, and again. Every time there were two people missing.

He turned back to the crater. Whose smoke had started dissipating into the sky. He knew who was missing, and as he stared into the gaping wound of the earth, a hand reached up to the sky. Then came down on the jagged cliff, pulling the rest of the body to the surface.

Ren fell in a heap at the edge of the hole. Breathing hard from his journey to the top. Scott didn’t know whether or not to offer him help. His sunglasses were nowhere to be found, probably crunched beneath the debris of the bunker and the rest of the desert, and he was covered in a layer of collateral grime. It painted his clothes black and made his yellow eyes stand out.

He pushed himself to his knees with a lot of trouble, scanning the destroyed battle field with a mirthful expression until his gaze fell on Scott. The way in which they locked eyes made Scott flinch, he was in big trouble.

His mind told him he needed to diffuse the situation, but he was still without most of his hearing. It would be even harder if Ren had also been deafened. A familiar “why me” rang through his head. The urge to just leave and call everything quits nagged at him.

Ren stood on shaking legs and made his way, as quick as he could manage, into Scott’s personal space, who backed away; but he yanked his arm.

He stared talking very fast. Scott saw his mouth move but barely any noise actually processed in his mind. Scott shouted as clearly as he could that he couldn’t hear. Throwing in a few sorry’s as he went.

Ren dragged his hands from the tips of his ears down his face in frustration, his fingertips left smudges on his cheeks and over his eyes. He began doing sign language, but Scott shook his head.

By now a small congregation of people had started observing the argument from a distance. All of them more privy to what Ren was mad about than Scott was. Heat rose to his face in embarrassment as he tried to talk over Ren, trying to explain himself. Ren had started yelling as if it would help, and the argument was getting visibly heated when Jimmy stepped in.

He pushed Ren back with force so that he stumbled. This seemed to cause a chain reaction. Ren shoved Jimmy back, and they went back and forth until Jimmy threw a punch.

Scott attempt to make them stop, he came between them and ordered them to calm down, but tensions were far too high for any de-escalating. His emotions were verging on a serious breakdown, frantically begging the fight to stop. To let him explain.

Nobody heard him. If they did, they didn’t care.

Ren had taken out his damaged axe and started swinging.

Jimmy kicked Ren in the stomach, the ladder fell on his back and Jimmy kicked him again.

“Jimmy stop it!” Scott shouted, and he could almost hear himself.

Jimmy looked up at him, still standing over the Red King. His eyes were furious.

Something passed quickly in Scott’s periphery, so he turned around.

Behind him, one foot still propping himself out of the crater, was Martyn. A freshly shot bow still aimed in front of him. His eyes were dark and angry as he stared right past Scott.

Scott turned back to Jimmy, whose eyes were fixed and frozen on Martyn. He staggered back, looking down at his chest where a poisoned arrow had pierced his battle-worn chest plate. His hand wrapped around the projectile, and as if he weren’t even thinking, he wrenched it from his flesh.

Jimmy’s expression read as shock. Right before his eyes rolled into his head and he fell like a load of bricks onto his knees, then his back. His fingers were still wrapped tightly around the arrow. Covered in a mixture of blood and sickly green poison.

He fell, and he stayed.

Scott didn’t have a second to process. Not even the thought to scream, reach out, or run came to him. A blanket of nauseating numbness draped itself around him. His mind left him as he stared helplessly. He watched as Jimmy’s lifeless body grew tendrils of thorny vines until it was consumed indefinitely. Only an arrow wrapped in rose vines remained. Light green flowers bloomed and waved in the wind.

And as if he were watching himself on a screen, Scott did something that he didn’t know he could do. That he had forgotten he could do.

A flash of light illuminated the livid grey sky.

Just as fast, Scott had approached Martyn, who didn’t have time to run. He didn’t have time to put his arms in front of his face as Scott’s hand curled into a fist.

He brought his knuckles down on the center of Martyn’s face, an audible crunch sounded out as he was knocked off his feet. A horrified expression painted itself on his face as he held his bleeding nose.

Scott raised his fist again, and as he did a string of dry lighting spread across the sky. He aimed again, and when his fist met Martyn’s face, a bolt of light shot down from the sky. It turned the world into a pure white canvas with an ear piercing roar.

In its wake was a blackened patch of burning sand. Scott and Martyn sat just as they had been before, but Martyn would not get up.

His body lay bruised and burnt, eyes closed tightly in pain. The rose vines claimed his remains quickly, wrapping around a pair of bloodied hands instead of an arrow this time.

Scott stayed bent over where his friend had been. Tears streamed down his face as the static disappeared from his ears. He ripped his arms out of the thorns which tore at his bandages. Blood permeated the wrappings, but he didn’t know how much was his.

He pushed himself away, kneeling in the grave he’d created.

“Major,” someone said, cold and angry.

A hand planted itself firmly on his shoulder, spinning him around forcefully. Scott had only a second to see that it was Ren, before he was hoisted up by the front of his shirt and thrown across creation. Landing hard on his ass for the second time that day. His shoulder made a nauseating POP, hanging limply and awkwardly at his side when he pushed himself up.

Ren placed his foot on his chest to keep him down.

Behind Ren, the greater alliance of Dogwarts had gathered. Confusion and betrayal was etched on their faces.

“Not a word, Major,” Ren said. Low and forced, his eyes were blown wide with something like fear.

Then he raised the handle of his broken axe over his head, the hilt made contact with Scott’s skull.

Lights out.

#me writing this was like no shawty don’t do that 😫#it’s almost midnight as i’m typing these tags pardon my unhingedness #kingslayer au #mcyt #mcytblr #3rd life smp #3rdlife #on god I really have to do all these characters tags #goodtimeswithscar #grian #scott smajor #solidarity gaming #impulsesv #tangotek #bdubbleo100 #zombie cleo

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shorkbrian · 4 years

Text

Hay Ride

Head mtea no thots just Dabi and a haunted hay ride like in “I Am Number Four”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dabi knows he can slip in with the rest of the actors - everyone thinks his ugly, crusted scars are just crazy good FX makeup.

Dabi knows pretty, dumb little things like you come to things like these. You like the fear, like the thrill and the rush of being scared. Of course, everyone signed a waiver before hopping up on the trailer with hay bales arranged as seats along the edges. You knew you were consenting to being scared, to being terrified out of your mind by horrifying creatures, by lunatics with chainsaws, by mutilated men and women. But you expected there to be limits, you knew that ultimately you were safe.

Dabi knows that the trailer would get pulled behind the farmer’s junky old truck while an employee told spooky stories to the crowd of eager, stupid college kids that paid for this type of crappy experience. Then the truck would “somehow” break down and everyone would have to walk back to the parking lot. That’s when all the scarers were supposed to come out, grab at limbs and pretend to be hungry for blood, for pain and tears.

Dabi wasn’t going to be pretending, he was going to be hunting.

Your group of friends wouldn’t notice you getting grabbed and promptly hauled off amid the chaos, away from everyone else.

Your screams would blend in with everyone else’s as he dragged you further and further away from safety.

He can tell you still think this is somehow part of the “experience” that you had paid for, your struggling half-hearted and screams weak. The screaming is annoying him more than he thought it would. It’s not until he slams you up against a tree, slaps you full across the face do you pause, looking up at the lean, scarred man with tears in your eyes from the sting of his hand.

The two of you just look at each other for a moment, Dabi sizing up his catch of the night, you wiggling and trying to remember the safe word you were supposed to tell the actors in case you got overwhelmed or something happened and you needed them to stop.

When the word slowly slipped through your mind, you grabbed at it, clutching it to the forefront of your mind so you could spit it out, wanting the man above you to stop pressing against you so tightly. Dabi had heard that word, had heard the mandatory speech given to all the actors before they were set loose.

Thing is, he had no plans of stopping.

You realized this as his hand came to rip at your shirt, to pull at your jeans. Dabi relished in the way he could feel the exact second you realized he wasn’t like the rest of the actors, wiggling violently in his hold, screaming yourself hoarse, this time for real. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the way you panicked. Once again, he quickly got tired of the screaming, roughly stripping you of your shirt despite your efforts to keep it on. He wadded it up a bit, stuffed a section into your mouth, pressed it deep, smiled at you. Felt his scars stretch painfully as he did so, watched as your eyes widened in fear at the display. Makeup doesn’t move like that.

Dabi almost laughed as he yanked down your pants, revealing the lacy black underwear you were wearing. Maybe you had a boyfriend - were you planning to get frisky with him after the two of you went on the scare ride? Too bad for your boyfriend. But you shouldn’t worry, you’ll still get a nice cock.

And Dabi doesn’t let you worry, quickly taking his cock out, barely shoving his own pants far down enough to let it spring free. You were pushing at him, hitting his chest, trying to scratch at his face, but Dabi had done this enough times, it’s laughably easy to ignore you. He just slides the crotch of your panties to the side, lines himself up to your mostly-dry entrance, and begins pushing inside.

You’re sobbing behind the makeshift gag, body frozen in fear, tense and far too tight for Dabi to push inside. He hisses, wrapping an arm around your upper body and crushing you against him, taking his other hand and lifting up your thigh, wrapping your leg around his waist so he can get a better angle.

He tells you to relax, or else it’ll hurt. He doesn’t really care either way, but you might, so he’s being nice enough to offer that tip. Dabi can tell you try to follow his advice, bear down on his cock as it slides further inside you. But you aren’t wet enough, and you’re so fucking tight, it barely makes a difference.

Dabi’s impatient now, been thinking about getting his cock in a hot little body since the night started. So he doesn’t relent in his slow, continual progress, pushing deeper and deeper and deeper until he can’t push any further inside.

And it’s nice. There’s the slightest bite of chill in the air, enough to make goosebumps rise up on the un-scarred portions of his skin. But his cock is nice and warm inside your pussy, especially now that you’re starting to get wet, drooling slick around his cock, mixing with the small amount of pre that smeared against your walls as he pushed inside. So Dabi just sits there for a second, lets his forehead rest against yours, just breathes, listens to your pathetic little muffled hiccups as you sob and cry.

When he can’t take it anymore, that’s when he draws his hips back, groans at how tightly your pussy clutches at him, begging him to stay put, trying to suck him back in as he pulls out. His pace starts slow at first, obsessed with the dragging feel of your pussy trying to grip his cock and hold onto it. His hips start to slap against yours quicker, the pace increasing naturally, and before he knows it, the slow, rocking pace has evolved into something fast, jarring.

The pace is pushing you back into the tree, only barely separated from it by Dabi’s arm. The bark roughly scratches against his arm, and he figures it’s probably scraping against the back of your thigh and some of your back, but the man can’t really find it in himself to care. He’s too busy trying to fuck more sounds out of you; little whimpers and gasps, those sniffly moans that you try to disguise with a sob. He likes those sounds, muffled as they are behind the makeshift gag.

It’s not long before Dabi feels himself getting close, adrenaline from subduing his catch still thrumming loud in his veins. It takes a particularly hard thrust, where his hips catch on yours just right and he hits your sweet spot, immediately making you tighten like a vice around him. It tips him over, humping into you quickly as hot cum spills out of him, staining your insides. The way you burst into tears again makes him wish his refractory period were shorter.

Dabi pulls out slowly, can barely even see his cum start to drip onto your thighs because it’s so dark. But he knows that’s what’s happening, and he feels his skin protest as his lips curl up into a cruel smirk. You’re cute like that, all pathetic and broken. He pulls your panties back into place, pulls your pants back. He knows it probably feels disgusting, having his cum slick against your pussy, wetting the fabric of your jeans. But he likes the humiliation it brings you.

He tucks his dick away, takes the shirt out of your mouth, lets you sob into his shoulder, weepy, messy heaves that leave his own shirt slightly damp from your tears and snot. Somehow, he likes this part the most - when the girls he’s just violated can do nothing else but turn to him for comfort, completely shattered from the assault. They’ll hate themselves for it later - seeking comfort from their rapist. But in the moment, they’re usually too stressed and out of it to do anything but slump against him as he holds them.

There’s something different about you though. You’re crying, clutching at his shirt, but you’re rubbing your thighs together with no shame, as if you’re upset at the fact that he didn’t make you cum, more than the fact that he had raped you. Dabi usually didn’t extend this kindness, but he reached for your jeans again, fully intending to stick his hand down them and play with your little clit until you screamed.

The way you jerked away from his hand, backpedaling so fast you fell flat on your butt showed you were terrified of him, of his touch. It made Dabi hungry again.

He followed you down onto the ground, easily batted your hands away and shoved his own down your jeans, into your panties, up against your soft skin. The way you jolted when he rubbed against a spot let him know he had found your clit, the way you were begging with him to leave you alone making his cock chub up. God, it was hot to watch you writhe on his hand like a bitch in heat while you wailed for him to stop.

Dabi played you like a fiddle, flicked and rubbed at your clit until you were shaking, still begging for him to go away, to leave, to stop, please. And then you couldn’t beg anymore, head thrown back as his fingers brought you to orgasm.

And oh, was that a sight. It made Dabi want to eat you up, his cock completely hard again now. A split second decision was made - Dabi was going to take you home with him.

As he gathered your exhausted figure up in his arms, Dabi smiled to himself. Maybe he could share you - after all, he knew he wasn’t the only one in the family who liked to feed off of fear.

#halloweenie special #yandere #kind of #Dabi #touya #dabi todoroki #bnha dabi #tw noncon #halloween drabble #bnha #yandere todoroki #touya todoroki #dabi is a todoroki #yandere thoughts #yandere imagines

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passivenovember · 3 years

Text

mama said to smile while I still have teeth : PART TWO

(part one)

(or) Billy gets his wisdom teeth removed and Steve understands things will not grow back in the spaces we leave for them.

Billy hops down from the passenger side like it’s written in a script or something. Part B of his master plan, logical in the journey of what happens next.

He swings the car door open and charges through wet grass. Neon green blades stick to the heel of his boot, lopsided smile drawn forward to inspect the ferns nestled on either side of a welcome mat that says Bless this Mess.

It’s as if he’s been here before.

As if he belongs.

Steve watches Billy collapse on the porch swing, arms and legs folded under him like a house of cards toppled over in the wind. He must not realize that it’s functional, or something, because Billy sits bolt upright and uses the toe of his boot to get the swing moving, once he does.

Really moving, like. Banging against the bay window his mother leaves clear for her azaleas, moving.

Billy hollers. Makes grabby hands, like, “Push me!”

“You’re gonna get sea sick.” Steve chuckles, watching Billy shrug and take it for a ride.

Billy brings the swing to a sudden halt, when. “How come you’re all the way down there?” he asks.

Catching on.

Steve watches him struggle to get his feet up on the swing. Feels his heart shudder in fondness, when Billy grins up at him triumphantly.

“Didn’t know there were other options.” Steve says.

“There aren’t. Come here.” Billy gestures to the porch when Steve’s legs decide to fizzle out. “It’s a carnival ride. You got one on your porch, at your house, and--”

Steve claims of the second cushion when Billy removes the thumb from his mouth long enough to spell it out for him. “Cuddles.” He says.

Simple.

And his eyes are so blue. Bright. Steve doesn’t have a choice because, really, they’ve swapped sides with the rope.

Up and left this dimension all together when the flea got squashed by the acrobat deciding that they could skip the apologies and get to the good part.

Steve realizes that he wants this.

Billy. Scooting impossibly closer and humming the bridge to Mama Mia. “You smell good, Stever.” Billy says around the pad of his thumb. Dripping more blood down the front of his hoodie, and. Trying to get his face in Steve’s neck.

Which should be gross, but.

Steve just clears a path. Makes room for the warm nose that sniffs a trail up and around one ear. “You said I smelled like ass,” He accuses, sounding shaky. Star struck.

Billy’s breath feels like fairy wings. “Wrong. I said you smell like sweet grass and have a sweet ass, didn’t you pay attention to my context clues?”

“Um.” There’s something warm on Steve’s throat. Going wet in the middle, parting and sucking and--

He pulls away.

Billy smiles at him. tries to get in Steve’s lap but the bench moves with him and when the bench moves with him, Steve’s got a brick wall glued to his side.

Shivering. Cold, or afraid. Nervous.

“You tired?”

Billy shakes his head. With his whole body. “Wanna hang out.”

“You can sleep for a little bit. I’ll still be there, when you--”

Billy grunts. Refuses, so. Steve rubs the side of Billy’s shoulder, instead. Fabric and muscle and heat living somewhere beneath his fingertips. “You don’t wanna go in?”

“Nope.” Billy somehow works his way under Steve’s arm.

Feels right, striking oil in the heartland.

It starts raining again. Somewhere along the way, it starts getting cold and Billy shivers, peering up at Steve like he made it happen.

Like the heavens split open and bleeding at his command.

Steve chuckles, pushing off the swing and laughing harder when Billy squawks like an angry rooster.

“Where are we going?” He demands.

“Inside.”

Billy seems to hate that, like. Instantly.

“Don’t make me carry you, Hargrove.”

“Oh, look who’s got Popeye arms all of a sudden.” Billy leans back on the porch swing, thighs spread like. He has no idea how fucking--

It doesn’t matter.

“You need to eat.”

“My stitches haven’t fallen out.”

“Yeah, and they won’t. Not for days.” Steve leans against one of the porch posts, trying not to crack a smile when Billy’s thumb finds his mouth again. “Unless you’re planning to eat your hand, we gotta get some mac and cheese--”

Billy’s off the swing before Steve realizes what’s happened. He wanders in between the ferns in their bright orange pots. Jamming a thumb at the number above the doorbell, like, “This door?”

And. “Yeah?”

“This is the one with the cheese?”

“And the mac too.” Steve winks at him, watching a warm blush spread across a sea of freckles. He cocks his head, like, “What’s up?”

“Maybe we can do inside.” Billy says harshly. “For a minute. To kiss the noodles, or something--”

“Kiss the?”

“Open the door.” Billy suggests. “Now.”

So Steve does, biting down on a smile when Billy clomps through the foyer, tracking dirt and grass and pieces of Steve’s heart across imported marble.

“This is so huge.” Billy says softly. His eyes go bright all of a sudden and he’s right in Steve’s face. “You probably have so many pillows here. And chairs. And blankets, too, like. The big ones--”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s build a fort, Stever.” Billy says desperately. He bounces a little, managing to knock more mud onto the floor beneath him. “Let’s build a house. For me and you, and the noodles if they wanna stay the night.”

Steve grins, untangling Billy’s fingers from his hair. “Yeah, I guess we could do that.”

“Really?”

“Sure.” Steve points to the ground. “Boots off first, though.”

Billy jerks away. “No.”

“Stop being a little shit for like, three seconds--”

“Stop being party pooper. For like. Your entire adulthood.” Billy shoots back, collapsing onto the staircase and holding his foot in one hand anyway.

Steve holds his breath.

Billy stares at the boot, and his foot inside the boot, like maybe the connection between them is lost.

Steve feels like an asshole for finding it adorable, but. Billy looks up at him through his eyelashes.

“I think I’m still high.” He theorizes.

“Yup.” Steve tugs his own shoes off, placing them on the rack by the door.

“I don’t think I can untangle the knots.” Billy says miserably. He tries, though, scowling like the laces have done it on purpose.

Steve watches him struggle, and laughs at the struggle, before holding out his hands. “Give me your foot.”

Billy stares at him. “Really?”

“Our only other option is to wait around until you figure it out, and who knows how long that’ll take.” Steve says, waiting for Billy to shoot back with something venomous.

He doesn’t.

He coos, instead. Like a little baby bird, pointing his toes in the air with a giggle. “I’m Cinderella and you’re the prince,” Billy declares, laughing harder when Steve drops to his knees and gets the boot off in one go. “Prince Charming, Prince--”

“You’re just saying that because I have amazing hair and you have little blonde princess curls.”

“Hey.” Billy deadpans, holding out his second foot. “It grows out of my hair like that.”

“Head.” Steve chuckles.

Billy’s mouth falls open in a silent O, brows drawn in confusion.

Steve puts both muddy boots on the rack next to his own, smiling down at Billy’s puzzled face. “Your hair grows out of your head like that.”

“It does?” Billy asks in wonder. “I like it. Do you like it?”

And. “Yeah. It’s cute.” Steve says, holding out his hand. “Come on. Lunch time.”

Billy lets Steve pull him up, swaying a little bit at their proximity.

He doesn’t pull away, and.

This close his eyes aren’t just blue, they’re green. And yellow. And brown, like a kaleidoscope.

“Am I a cute person, Stever?” Billy asks softly.

“The cutest.” Steve says. Without thinking, but.

It doesn’t seem to matter. Because Billy’s high as a fucking kite, wiggling his hips and saying, “I think you’re cuter than me. Softer. Like an opil painting, or maybe a box of raspberry macaroons.”

Steve chuckles, not even trying to pull away when Billy’s fingers try to force their way into his mouth. “When have you had macaroons?”

“I haven’t,” Billy admits easily. “But I always thought that maybe you tasted like one.”

Steve opens his mouth to say something, but. Billy’s gone after that. Running his fingers along the wall and disappearing around the corner.

“C’mon, Stever! I want cheese flavored kisses.”

And Steve.

Doesn’t think Billy will remember this.

They order pizza instead. Steve knows that Billy’s gotta be careful with his incision marks. Not go to heavy on the fat and grease less than three hours after his surgery, but.

Steve tries to hold blue eyes even as they slip through his fingers. Pools and rivers disappearing beneath the Earth.

He’s starting to think that maybe.

All it would take is bat of those stupid eyelash and Steve would throw every responsible thought out the window.

Billy says, “You got a laundry machine?” After the pizza performs its vanishing act.

And Steve says, “Yeah, why?”

Two seconds before Billy is stripping down naked.

“Woah, woah, hey--”

“There’s Kool-Aid on my hoodie.” Billy says from behind a wall of fabric. “I can’t walk around with red juice on my clothes, people will know I’m a vampire then.”

“You’re a vampire?” Steve tries to look away from Billy’s stomach.

The smooth planes of skin, soft just above a layer of muscle. He puts a hand over his eyes for good measure. Safe keeping when Billy gets the hoodie off in one go and he’s standing there.

Shirtless.

In the middle of the room like some kind of wet dream Steve never even realized he had.

Billy grins, curls sticking out in every direction. “They’d think it.”

And Steve’s brain is, fucking.

Offline. Distracted. He blinks, tearing his eyes way from Billy’s chest long enough to go, “Think what?”

“That I’m a vampire.”

And Steve thinks he couldn’t be. Too tan. Too--

Alive. Steve shrugs. “I don’t think it.”

“That’s because you don’t think.” Billy tosses the hoodie onto floor. He points at Steve, like, “Can I wear your sweater?”

And Steve looks down at himself. “This one?”

“Yeah.” Billy says. “Smells like you.”

And Steve doesn’t even have to think about it. Doesn’t even consider what it might mean, pulling the fabric over his head and handing it to an asshole who examines his Kate Bush tee shirt and says, “That one too.”

Like he’s trying to make Steve catch on fire.

Steve shakes his head. “What will I wear if you take all my clothes?”

Billy shrugs, like, “Not my problem.”

And he’s uncovering truths with those eyes. Getting a little too close to the root of it, the revelation, so.

Steve gives Billy the shirt too.

And tries not to think about the four seconds that they’re both shirtless. Standing in a room together, just. looking. Charting unmarked skin, eyes glazing silver springs on bronze soil.

Billy puts the tee shirt on, and the sweater over the top of that, until It’s just Steve.

Half naked in the living room.

“I’ll go grab another shirt, and then, um.” It feels like the walls are burning down. Steve’s thoughts fall like bullet points. “We should go outside,” He says. “Wanna go sit on the swing?”

Billy frowns. “’S cold outside.”

“Yeah, but.” Steve picks the hoodie off the ground. “I’ll keep you warm.”

Billy’s fingers don’t leave his skin. Don’t soothe, when they light trails of smoke over his collarbone.

Steve leans into the touch anyway.

Gives into the pull, anyway, when Billy grabs his cheek and brings their eyes together, looking every bit like he’s got something to say.

Something important.

“What?” Steve asks. Wanting to touch. Wanting to--

“You know my mom threw a plate at my old man,” Billy says, eyes resting on a scar they both know is there. Hidden, like gold beneath caverns of rock. “The day she left, she. Threw my Mickie Mouse at him.”

“Your plate?”

“It was a bowl.”

“I’m sure he deserved it.” Steve says easily. “I’m sure it was the only way to win.”

“There aren’t any winners with stuff like that.” Billy says gently. His eyes are watery again. Steve’s getting suspicious of it, like maybe that’s just how the world comes together for Billy. With water and sphere’s of blue.

God hovering over the surface of the deep.

Billy sighs, thumb twitching against his leg. “Neil would’ve killed her.”

And Steve hates Neil.

Knows more than be probably should. Pays attention, takes notes.

“That just means she’s resourceful, right?” Steve whispers. “Using the stuff around her to fight fair.”

“Wasn’t fair.” Billy whispers, finally looking away. Eyes studying the rain as it drips from the trees above.

“Clean, then.” Steve shifts, rocking the porch swing as he sits criss-cross with his knees pressed against Billy’s thigh. “Even fight. Clean break.”

He wonders how he can get those eyes on him again.

How he can be taken apart.

“No such thing.”

Steve doesn’t get it. “What do you mean?”

“All breaks sever the bone.”

And Steve thinks. Maybe. “Are you high?” He squints at Billy’s face, trying to see if it’s written on his forehead.

Billy smirks. “I think so.”

“Still high.” Steve says, wanting to lift his fingers. Prod at swollen cheeks. He doesn’t, when Billy’s eyes start welling up again. “Don’t cry.” Steve suggests, sliding closer. “Don’t cry, Billy--”

“I’m sorry about--”

“I know.”

“That night. It was. I never should’ve--”

“She’s your sister.” Steve says fiercely. Because. “We were trying to protect you.” And he was. At the root of it all, deep in the center of himself. Steve turns outward again, feet planted on the ground. “We didn’t want you to get roped into our shit. With the monsters, you were.”

Billy’s staring at him.

Watching. Steve can feel it, so. He closes his own eyes, just to even the score. To make it easier when his lips say, “You’re too beautiful to have your life cracked open like that.”

Billy doesn’t speak until he does, voice flickering like candle light behind a window covered in frost. “Life was already laying in pieces on the rug.”

And there are fingers in Steve’s hair. Brushing tears from his cheeks. Billy grabs him by the throat with more care, more.

Love.

Than Steve ever thought he would get in this life. Billy moves him until they’re right in each other’s space. Breathing the same air, no longer running races to escape one another.

It feels right.

Billy smiles at him. “Thank you.”

And Steve doesn’t know what for. Doesn’t care what for, but there’s a finger on his mouth, parting his lips. Billy’s eyes burn a hole in his tongue. Clear a path through muscle and bone, until Steve is pulled forward.

Into an embrace.

Into a trilogy of kisses; on the corner of his eye. On the bridge of his nose. On the bow of his lip that turns biting. And bruising.

Billy asks if he can lay on Steve’s chest, because.

“I’ve always wanted to do that.” He says shyly. Billy kisses him once more and and Steve.

Goes down easy.

#harringrove #wisdom teeth #part two #I was so touched at the requests!#so here she is.#I don't know #lol #I hope you enjoy it anyway!

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maplecornia · 3 years

Text

chapter 19

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 2.93K

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: when it's 5 am in the morning, you kind of start to lose inspiration for banners ;-;

When you step out into the rain, you feel a bit sad, shutting the door behind you. Smiling to yourself, you sigh, trying to find Taehyung through the tinted windows, your hand lingering on the door.

You don’t want to leave, you want to hold onto him for a bit longer. Somehow, you know that if you say goodbye now, things will stay the same, you will stay the same.

Broken as you've always been.

He’s lost behind the dark, and you have to let go, turning away.

You can’t rely on him. You can’t let your burdens rest on his shoulders, you have to figure out how to solve them on your own. Nevertheless, the temptation is there. To lose yourself in the fantasy of bliss and happiness dancing in the rain.

What happens when you finally let go?

You don’t want to find out.

Inwardly, you try to swallow the lump in your throat as you leave him behind, holding tightly to the bittersweet memories he has given you.

Smiling softly to yourself, you lift your satchel to cover your head, shielding you from the rain like a little umbrella, only a few feet away from the apartment complex door. Glancing to your left, you receive a pang of nostalgia as you recognize the small bench where you waited for Jaejin before.

Was it only yesterday that you came to Korea?

You find it so hard to believe that in a mere span of 24 or so hours, so much has already happened and yet you're here.

The same as before.

You scoff a bit to yourself, finding how pathetic that is. You know you have to change, that you have to fix yourself, and find it sad that you can't seem to do it alone. The only moments where you start to feel okay are moments like today, where others can distract you and give you their strength.

Is that all you're capable of being?

A parasite that leeches off of other's happiness?

You are weak, aren’t you?

Turning away, you start to resume your trek to the safety of your apartment, your new home but pause at the sound of someone shouting behind you.

"Wait!"

It's a familiar voice, and frantic. Curious, and a bit worried, you turn around, trying to find the source of the sound. It takes you a moment to peer through the rain, but soon you can see a figure stepping out of a sleek black car that is parked on the curb.

The same car that dropped you off just moments ago.

Why hasn't he left yet?

Furrowing your brow with confusion, you step forward, but then you see him.

As the figure turns towards you, even from this distance, you’re still able to recognize his face. Why wouldn’t you, when you have been looking at it, memorizing it, adoring it throughout the 5 years you have known him? His eyes glint as they meet yours across the way and he calls out your name once more, leaving you frozen, speechless.

“Wait for me!”

Kim Taehyung, little do you know, I have been waiting for you all my life.

He starts running towards you. Through the rain, splashing through puddles, getting drenched all over again. Not even bothering to pull up his hood as he runs to reach you, his eyes never leave your gaze, braving the monster that is the storm.

You shake your head almost in disbelief as he comes to a stop before you, drenched from head to toe. He’s dripping almost as much as the clouds around you, his hair now plastered to his face. The rain has turned it from its normal dark brown shade to a deep pitch black. His clothes stick tightly to his body from the rain, all efforts to dry off in the car now futile. He shivers a bit from the cold, his teeth slightly chattering as he stands before you, those eyes boring into yours.

He must be so uncomfortable, so cold, and yet…

His eyes can’t stop shining.

You look up at him, half stunned.

“Thank goodness you heard me. I thought I would have to chase you inside.” He says, chuckling to himself. Stunned, you are frozen, your eyes wide and searching his. He notices the strange expression and tilts his head, confused.

“What is it?” he asks, but you don’t answer. He looks left and right as though he weren't the cause of your stare before bending forward and whispering…

“Do I have something on my face?”

At his question, you can’t help but chuckle.

“Yes.” You nod, lowering your satchel to rest by your hip once more and reaching around his neck, pulling the now soaked and heavy fabric of hood up to cover his head. “You have quite a few things on your face.”

Before pulling away, you can't help but absentmindedly brush a bit of his hair out of his face, your hand resting on his cold but soft cheek. He doesn’t complain, just stares at you with wide expectant eyes. His hands itch to raise and keep your comforting hand there on his cheek, but he’s too late as you slowly pull away, meeting those dark mysterious eyes.

“What were you doing?” You ask, raising a hand to shield your eyes to see him better and he stands straight, clearing his throat.

“I never got your name.” He says quite plainly, shocking you a bit.

“You came out here...for my name?” you ask, quite incredulously. “I’m sorry I--”

You’re cut off, by the hand that he holds out to you, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I’m Kim Taehyung, what’s your name?” Taking his hand after a moment, you shake it.

“My name is Lin Yen, it’s nice to meet you.” You reply and he smiles broadly, his eyes seeming to shine with a million stars.

"Was that all?” You ask him, having to raise your voice over the growing torrent of rain.

“Hardly.” He murmurs under his breath, so soft that you can't hear him. Squinting your eyes at him, you push your hair away from your face, the wind playing with it violently.

“What did you say?” You call out to him, wincing as another howl of wind shrieks in your ear. He doesn’t respond, just turns to you and holds out his hand. You give him an incredulous look, thinking he wants another handshake, but he smiles, shaking his head slightly.

“Give me your phone.” he requests, and you sigh in exasperation.

“Tae, we're in the middle of a storm, I don't--”

“I don’t care.” He says, cutting you off and you regard him in silence. “Besides, you're short enough that I could be your umbrella. So you don’t have to be so worried about the rain.” You raise your eyebrow at his statement, a bit offended. He notices your expression, but at the sight of it, his smile only grows wider, mischief playing in his eyes.

“You did not just call me short.” You warn him, crossing your arms across your chest as you wait for his response. He rolls his eyes, shrugging a bit before stepping forward, so close that he’s hovering over you.

“Just stating the facts, sweetheart,” Taehyung replies, raising his brow as though asking for a challenge. You narrow your eyes at him, pursing your lips a bit before he smirks and speaks once more. “You’re like a little fairy, and I’m your protective tree.”

He chuckles, sliding his forefinger under your chin before you pull away with a scoff. Just because some people have the biological genes that make them as tall as the freaking sky…

Tired of his incessant teasing, you raise your hand, take his nose within your fingers, and twist it lightly in retaliation, as though you were stealing it from him. He blinks, a bit surprised as you pull away smirking. Holding your thumb between your fore and middle finger, you wave your hand in front of his face, brandishing it as though it were your prize before turning on your heel and walking away.

“Come on, Mr. Tree.” You call over your shoulder and after a moment, he follows you. When you reach the small overhang above the entrance to your apartment complex, you stop and turn around to him, no longer bare to the storm. Giving him a triumphant smile, you turn to your satchel, slightly humming to yourself. “Looks like you don’t have to be an umbrella anymore.”

“Your loss, for your information I am an excellent tree.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes before resting his hands behind his neck and peeking into your apartment complex. The doors are glass, so it's not hard to see through and as you glance up from your tiny task, you smile at how cute and innocent his expression seems. When your hands finally close around your phone, you let out a small gasp of excitement, startling him. He jumps, his hands falling and resting on his chest as though to try and calm his pounding heart. Pulling it out of your satchel, you try your hardest not to burst out into laughter at the sight of his surprised expression.

“You okay there, Mr. Leafalot?” You ask and he scoffs, a bit annoyed, his soft lips pursing into a small pout.

“For one thing, I have no idea what that means.” You bite back on your laugh, snorting a bit as you raise your hand to hide your ever-growing smile.

“For another, I am perfectly fine, thank you.” Scoffing, he rubs the back of his neck glancing away from you for a moment.

“Honestly, I don't need a clumsy Tinker Bell telling me to be careful.” You roll your eyes, deciding to ignore the slight taunt he just directed your way.

“Whatever, Peter Pan.” You shoot back, earning a slightly surprised look from him. He opens his mouth to reply but you cut him off, holding your phone out to him. He looks at it, then back at you, a question waiting in his eyes. After a moment, you grow tired of waiting and sigh, lagging your arm a bit. “Didn’t you ask to see my phone?”

His eyes light with realization and he nods as though he has forgotten why he was there. He takes the phone from you, your fingers brushing against his before you draw away. As he glances at your home screen, he smirks.

“So...am I your bias?”

You glance up at him, a bit confused by his question, but then you realize.

He has your phone.

The same phone that has him...

On your home screen.

As your wallpaper.

Inwardly, you curse, trying to ignore the blush rising in your cheeks, and lunge forward, trying to take it back. He laughs, dodging and holding your phone out of your reach.

“What's wrong, Tinker?” he antagonizes, grinning like an idiot as he blocks you with his arm.

Curse your tiny arms.

“Taehyung!” you whine, the embarrassment clean on your face. He just laughs, his fingers playing on your screen doing God knows what as he holds you back. You droop on his arm, pouting as he shows no signs of pulling away, nor giving the phone back.

“What did you even need it for?” you complain, slipping off of his arms and crossing your arms once more. Having finished, he turns back to you, smirking. You tilt your head a bit confused as he hands you your phone. Cautiously, you take it, wondering what he’s done.

“See for yourself.” He instructs.

As soon as you see it, your eyes widen.

He opened your contacts and entered one, the new contact set up and filling your screen. On it, he entered a phone number and titled the contact as Your TaeTae with a purple heart next to it. You breathe out a stunned scoff, before looking up to see him smiling at you. A soft, but innocent smile, which shows his hope and unanswered questions. You smile back, touched at his gesture, and still caught in slight disbelief.

“Is this real?” you ask and he nods. Still unsure, you chuckle a bit shakily turning back to the phone. “I mean, this isn’t your manager's phone number or something…?”

He rolls his eyes before stepping forward and taking your hand into his own, gently cutting you off. You meet his gaze with wide eyes and he holds it with his deep ones before turning back to your phone. You still have your hand around it, the same hand which he holds in his own, a gentle touch that never ceases to fill you with warmth.

You watch as he saves the contact to your phone. Held in beautiful silence, the two of you watch as it registers. Once it's saved, he presses the call button and puts it on speaker just as it starts dialing. It holds out three long beeps before a muffled sound can be heard.

A ringtone echoing from Taehyung's back pocket.

You watch in silence as he pulls it out, holding it next to your phone, an unknown caller ID flashing on his screen. The two of you watch as your soft beeping and his ringtone mix together in a strange symphony. That is, until Tae pulls away, answering the call and holding his phone to his ear. It takes you a moment, but as he softly nudges you, you raise yours to your ear, murmuring a soft response.

“Hello?” He smirks at your faint whisper before replying.

“Hello, is this Tinker Bell?” He asks in the same soft, quiet voice, subtly mocking you. But you catch it, and narrow your eyes at him, playfully smacking him in the arm. He winces, pouting, but you don’t buy it and ignore him.

“It is she, is this Peter Pan?” He wrinkles his nose at the nickname, and you scoff, looking away.

Like Tinker Bell is any better?

“No.” He answers, dropping the mocking voice, his deep silky one returning. At the sound of it, you look up, wondering why he turned so serious all of a sudden. He meets you with those large dark hooded eyes, looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“This is Kim Taehyung.” He takes a step forward, so close you can feel the heat radiating off of him, his smell wafting over you once more.

“This is real.”

You look into his eyes, take in his face, the serene look he holds and everything seems to fade away. There’s only you and him, the rain far away, your troubles falling behind you. There’s only one thing that matters.

After a moment, he slowly smiles, ruffling your hair softly. You flinch, raising your hands to protect your head just as he pulls away.

“I’ll see you later, Tinker Bell.” Stepping back, he raises his hand, waving goodbye before turning on his heel and running off into the rain.

You smile, a bit stunned as you watch him until he rounds the corner around the car and opens the door, looking up at you one last time. You smile, and dramatically wave goodbye to him. He laughs, you can hear it, though it may be faint, as he waves back.

Then he’s gone.

The door closes and you watch the car as it drives away. You stare after it long after it's gone and though you're still smiling, it's almost as though you're returned to your dark and empty self.

As though when he left, he took all the light with him.

Sighing, you shake yourself off.

Now is not the time to lose yourself.

So what if the dream has gone?

You promised yourself you would be strong. You promised yourself not to fall.

So you won’t.

Before you turn away, you look down at your phone, which is still open to Taehyung's contact. You smile at the sight of it, a small sign that what just happened was real, and not a dream. Smiling to yourself, you tap on the empty profile and replace it with the same picture you have on your home screen. Smiling like an idiot, you save the contact changes and are about to turn to the door before you see it.

The option to send him a message.

Licking your lips, you raise your hand to your bottom lip, absentmindedly playing with it as you contemplate whether or not you should do it. After a moment, you press the option and watch in anticipation as it brings you to the empty chat page, waiting for you to type. Biting your bottom lip, your fingers fly across the screen. Sweet and simple, you smile once it's finished, adding a purple heart at the end before pressing SEND. The transaction done, you press your home screen button before turning it to sleep, pocketing the phone safely in your satchel once more.

Taking one last look at the rain, where your dream faded away not a moment ago, you sigh with content before turning on your heel and pushing open the door to enter the apartment complex.

And somewhere amongst that onslaught of endless rain, Taehyung, driving down the slick streets of Seoul, receives your message. He opens it, finding it to belong to an unknown number. But when he reads it, he knows it's you.

Goodbye, Peter Pan

After all, who else would call him that?

Smiling, he sends back a purple heart before pocketing his phone and driving farther and farther away.

And yet…

It’s almost as though he never left.

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: i'm sorry but even though the banner is simple, I'M IN LOVE WITH HIS SMILE OMFG

chapter 20 here

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calpalirwin · 3 years

Text

Crush, Crush, Crush

Summary: As if having one crush wasn’t complicated enough.

Word Count: 3.4k

And away and away we go!

Delilah let out a loud shriek, flinching away as an ice cold water bottle was pressed against the back of her neck. “Mikey!” she kept shrieking as the boy burst into a fit of giggles, pressing the bottle firmer against the girl’s neck, water droplets running down into the back of her shirt. “I’m gonna kill you!” she laughed, turning around.

Michael dropped the bottle and ran for his life, Delilah giving chase, their socked feet sliding around on the hardwood floors, both of them screaming wildly. As a last ditch effort to catch him, Delilah pushed off with her right foot, launching herself towards Michael’s back, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, and his hooking under her legs so they wouldn’t fall.

“Um… wish I could say this usually doesn’t happen… But uh… that’d be a lie,” Calum’s voice sounded from in front of them and both Delilah and Michael snapped their heads to the sound, finding Calum, Luke, and a boy Delilah had yet to meet standing there.

“Didn’t know Mike had a girlfriend,” the boy said, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Delilah let out a high pitched giggle as she climbed off Michael’s back, who scoffed, “D’s not my girlfriend.”

“Oh,” the boy said, brightening slightly.

“Yeah, she’s actually my girlfriend. Mike, how could you?!” Calum cried with fake dramatics.

Delilah fake gagged. “Not even in your dreams, Hood,” she told him before focusing her attention on the boy whose name she still didn’t know. “I’m Delilah. And you are?”

“”M Ashton,” he smiled softly.

“Oh, the drummer!”

“Heh,” Ashton giggled nervously, a dimple indenting his cheek. “Yeah, that’d be me.”

“Cool!”

“Yeah, and now that we have a drummer, can we get our other guitarist, and practice?” Luke quipped.

Delilah rolled her eyes at the boy. “I guess you can borrow, Mike. But you owe me one, Hemmings.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

As the group of five made their way into the living room, Michael nudged into Delilah, “Stop staring at Ash,” he teased, low enough so only she heard him.

“I am not staring,” she whispered back. “But if I was…?”

Michael chuckled, understanding her only the way he could. “Two grades above us. Different school. No girlfriend. Good drummer. Definitely sticking this out with us.”

“Fuck, that doesn’t help me not like him, Mike.”

Michael chuckled more. “Yeah, I know.”

~5 Years Later~

Ashton spotted Delilah and Michael already lounging in the sun, sighing internally. How was he ever supposed to think he stood a chance at having either of them, let alone make a move when those two were always joined at the hip? His phone pinged in his hand, and he hoped it was either Calum or Luke saying they were finding parking. Fortunately it was both Calum and Luke. Unfortunately it was both of them saying that something had come up, and they couldn’t make it. “Fuckin’ great…” Ashton muttered under his breath, trudging the last few feet across the sand towards Delilah and Michael. “Hey, guys.”

Both of them shielded the sun out of their eyes as they looked over at Ashton, bright smiles on their faces. “Oh, hey Ash!”

“Hey,” he repeated. “Um, did you see what Cal and Luke said?”

With frowns, they both looked at their own phones. “God damn it…” Michael groaned. “They do this all the time… They wanna hang out, and then they bail on us.”

Delilah shrugged. “Well fuck them. We don’t need them to have fun, do we?” With that, her fingers tugged up the hem of her shirt, to pull the fabric free from her body. “Can one of you help me get my back?” she asked, digging through her bag for a bottle of sunscreen.

Michael almost dropped the bottle, as Ashton gulped, both men sharing a glance. Taking the path of least resistance, they both shared the job of covering the woman’s back in shoulders, Delilah sighing in content as the way their fingers gently massaged her skin. “Thanks guys.”

“No problem…” they mumbled in a rush, their cheeks bright red.

“Um, I can do your guys’ backs if you want…” she suggested.

“Yeah! That’d be great!”

Delilah had to bite down on her lip as both men discarded their shirts, and all three of them took a small moment to clear their throats. “Um… Wanna help me with Mike first, ‘Lila? He might burn quicker than me…” Ashton all but squeaked.

“Good idea,” Delilah giggled, squirting the sunscreen in Ashton’s waiting hand, and then her own. She shared a covert smile with him as they started covering Michael’s back, their fingers knocking into the other’s.

When it was Delilah and Michael’s turn to get Ashton’s back, Ashton shuddered at the way his friends’ fingers carefully went over the tattoo on his neck, before moving to get the rest of his back and shoulders. “Fuck, that tickles,” he giggled airly. “Maybe you should think about getting a spray.”

“Aw, where’s the fun in that?” she started to flirt, then immediately felt bad at the way Michael’s face scrunched. “I don’t have a lot of faith in spray sunscreen. Every time I use it, I get burned,” she added quickly as an explanation.

After they finished applying the sunscreen to the rest of their exposed skin, Ashton glanced out towards the water. “Shall we?”

“Let’s go!” Delilah said, skipping off ahead of them.

“You should go for it,” Michael mumbled to Ashton as they walked together at a slower pace. “You and D… You’d uh… be cute together.”

“What? Pfft… Nah… You think?”

Michael shrugged. “I see the way you look at her. And if I trust anyone with her, it’d be you, ya know?”

“Thanks, Mike. That, um… means a lot. But, I don’t think she sees me that way. Pretty sure she’s into someone else.”

“Shit that blows…”

It was Ashton’s turn to shrug. “Eh, it’s alright. Can’t say I blame her. She has pretty good taste.”

“That she does,” Michael nodded.

~~~

“So, you ever gonna ask him out?” Delilah asked Michael as they sat on the shoreline, watching Ashton still out in the water.

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean what do I mean? Ash! When are you gonna ask him out?”

“Uh… never? Cuz he doesn’t like me.”

Delilah snorted, “Yeah, okay. And I’m the Queen of England.”

Michael shook his head, then sighed. “I’m serious, D. Would it be great if Ash liked me the way I like him? Yeah. But that’s not reality.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he likes someone else.”

“Aw, fuck. Sorry, Mike.”

“S’alright. Can’t say I blame him.”

~~~

“You know,” Ashton said to Delilah as they waited for Michael to come back with food for them all. “With Mike, you might have to make the first move.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, c’mon, ‘Lila. You know him better than anybody. You know how shy he can get with stuff like this. Be brave for the both of ya. Make the first move.”

“Waves knock you around a lil too hard there, Ash? You’re talking nonsense.”

“You’re really gonna sit there, and tell me you don’t like Mike?”

“Of course I like Mike. He’s my best friend. But it’s… complicated. There’s a lot of layers that I haven’t figured out. That I don’t think I ever will.”

“You’re telling me…” he muttered under his breath.

Michael approaching with food put an end to the conversation, all three friends sharing a tight lipped smile, more confused than they’d ever been.

~3 Years Later~

Delilah checked the time on her phone, sighing and feeling tears of frustration brim up in her eyes. She had been five minutes early to her date nearly an hour ago. She wasn’t sure which stung more: her messages asking where her date was being left on read, or the look of pity in the waitress’ eyes as Delilah ordered her third glass of wine.

So, rejected, a little tipsy, and unsure of what to do, she called the one person she knew she could always count on.

“Hey ‘Lila,” Ashton’s voice picked up on the second ring that had Delilah feeling even more flustered.

“Oh… H-hey Ash… S-sorry I didn’t mean to call you… um…” she fumbled over her words as she scrambled to hit the end call button.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Aren’t you supposed to be on a date? Are you alright? What’s going on?”

The weight of concern for her in his words was the breaking point. “I got stood up…” she whimpered, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“Okay. Sit tight. I’m coming.”

“Ash-”

“Shh, it’ll be alright. I’m already on my way.”

“You’re heading out?” Calum questioned as Ashton placed Michael’s phone down on the table.

“I have to.”

“No. Mike has to. She called Mike, Ash.”

Ashton narrowed his eyes pointing into the sound booth where Michael and Luke were laying down tracks. “He’s a lil busy at the moment, and she needs someone now. What am I supposed to do? Not go to her?”

“No, of course not. It’s Del. But… Ash, it’s not a secret that things are all a little complicated between you three. I don’t want to see you get hurt because you played hero to her when it was supposed to be Mike.”

“I’m not doing this to swoop in, and take Mike’s hero moment away from him, Cal. She’s my friend too. And she needs somebody. So you really think I’m gonna let you stop me?”

Calum raised his hands in surrender. “Look, I’m only trying to protect you from getting your heart crushed if this doesn’t match up to the fantasy in your head.”

“And I appreciate that. You know I do. But I got this, Cal. Promise.”

“Alright. Go on then, I’ll explain to them what happened when they’re done.”

“Thanks, Cal.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now get out of here already.”

Ashton made it to the restaurant in minutes flat, hitting the ground running. He muttered a few apologies and “excuse me”s as he weaved through the people in his way, before finally spotting Delilah staring dejectedly at her empty glass of wine. He steeled himself from the thoughts swirling in his head about how if this had been their date he’d never dare leave her waiting on him. That wasn’t a road he needed to go down right now. “Hey,” he said softly as he took the seat across from her.

She raised her eyes slowly to look over at him, a tearful smile coming to her lips. “Hey…” she whispered.

“C’mon. Let’s get you out of here.”

“I have to pay my bill… Shoulda stuck with water…”

“That’s alright,” he told her, flagging down a waitress. While Delilah got lost in her mind, Ashton settled the bill in hushed tones. “Okay. C’mon,” he said, resting a hand gently on top of hers to get her attention.

“The bill…” she repeated.

“It’s taken care of. C’mon.” He helped her up from her seat, taking off his jacket to drape it over her shoulders, his fingers brushing against her exposed skin.

“You wanna know something?” she asked numbly as they headed for his car.

“What’s that?”

“If I told you how many times I imagined you rushing in to save the day like this… well… your head would spin. And now that it’s real… my head’s spinning.”

“That might be the wine,” he chuckled lightly, opening the door for her. “And uh… I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“How do you not know? Everyone else does…” she sighed, relaxing against the leather of the seat.

“Everyone else knows what?”

“That I like you.”

In his shock, he closed the car door with more force than he meant to. When he got in on the driver’s side, she was giggling. “What?” he asked nervously.

“Well that was dramatic,” she continued to giggle. “I like you, slam!”

“I- Wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. I thought you still liked Mike.”

Delilah sighed somewhat dreamily, and Ashton’s stomach churned. “Yeah. I like him too.”

“Yeah, I kinda gathered as much. I mean… you did call him, not me. I was just the one who picked up. Still not sure why. I just saw your name and...”

“Had to?” she supplied the rest of his thought.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s you. I wasn’t going to not answer, even if it wasn’t my phone.”

“Just because I like Mike, doesn’t mean I can’t like you too, Ash.”

“Yeah, but it’s different kinds of like.”

“Says who?”

“Says the obvious. You two are the closest, you always have been. And look, I get it. I’m not mad. I get what you see in him, because I see it, too. I just also happen to wish sometimes you saw that in me, too.”

“I do! It’s…” she scrambled to find the words to finally lay this all out on the line.

“Complicated. I know. I remember.” The words came out bitter, and they both hated it. Delilah for not having the words to fix it, and Ashton for the crushed look in her eyes when she was already having a shitty night. He let out a slow sigh, collecting himself. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “We shouldn’t be doing this right now. This is a conversation we can have at a different time. I should be taking you home.”

“No,” she pressed. “I want to have this conversation now. Ash… I like both of you. I’ve liked Mike my entire life, and I’ve liked you since the minute I met you. And… the reason I haven’t been brave enough to do something about it is because I also know that you two like each other. And… I like you guys too much as my friends to ruin the dynamic I guess? When I don’t choose, it’s only me who gets hurt. Because I’d rather have neither of you, than have one and the other feel jealous.”

“Oh… Damn… That adds a whole ‘nother layer to this, doesn’t it?”

“Yep… They don’t have books or movies for how to deal with love triangles like this… this is… uncharted territory.”

“Yep… Well fuck. If all three of us like each other, why don’t we all just date?” Ashton suggested.

“How would that dynamic work?”

“No idea. But, if anyone could figure it out, I’d bet it’d be us.”

“And if Mike doesn’t… Would you and me still…?”

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

“You don’t… feel like that makes us consolation prizes to each other? Like we can’t both have Mike, so we’re settling for each other?”

“Nothing about being with you is me settling for you, ‘Lila. I want you.”

“I want you, too.”

“And we just happen to also want Mike,” Ashton couldn’t help but giggle at the absurdity of it all.

“Do you think he wants us, too? I mean, I know he wants you. I just don’t know if he wants me.”

“Oh, he does. Trust me, he does. Anybody would be stupid not to.” Ashton let out his next breath slowly, running his hands through his hair. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Please,” she breathed, leaning across the center console towards him. He met her in the middle, his fingers gripping lightly on her chin to guide her lips to his, her own hands coming up to cradle his face. “Thanks for coming to get me,” she murmured as they broke the kiss.

“Of course,” he smiled softly. “You hungry?”

“Starving.”

Ashton giggled and started the car. “Alright, we’ll grab some food, and then I’ll take you home.”

“We should get something for Mike, too. He’ll have known by now that I called, and that you came to get me, so he’ll be waiting for us. Right?”

“If he’s done laying down tracks with Luke, yeah. That’s probably a safe bet.”

They fell silent, Delilah finally breaking the silence only after they had picked up food for themselves and Mike. “Hey, Ash?”

“Hmm?” he hummed, reaching out to lower the volume of the radio.

“Are you scared?”

“Terrified,” he nodded. “It’s uh… not every day you tell the girl, and the boy, you’ve been crushing on for years that you’ve been crushing on them for years, with the follow up being if it’s cool if you can all date each other.”

Delilah giggled, “God, this is fuckin’ crazy…”

“100% certifiably nuts,” Ashton giggled with her as he pulled into her driveway, next to Michael’s car and spotting the man waiting for them on the porch. Ashton shut off the car and turned to look at Delilah. “Ready?”

“God, no.”

“It’s Mike. He’s our best friend.”

“I know. But I’m still…”

“Scared? Yeah, me too. His hands grabbed hers, brushing soft kisses across her knuckles. “But I’ll be right here with you. C’mon,” he coaxed.

They left the security of the car, and walked up to where Michael was waiting. He rose slowly to his feet, eyes locking on Ashton and Delilah’s hands that were clasped together. “Oh… I see you two have uh… that’s great. Happy for you guys…” His gaze flickered over to the food bag in Delilah’s other hand. “And I’m intruding, so I’m gonna head out. Glad your night worked out.”

“Mike, wait,” Ashton said, reaching out to stop the younger man. “There’s something we wanted to talk to you about.”

“No offense to either of you right now, cuz I love this for you guys, I really do. But uh… I’m a little tired and hungry from the studio. I just stopped by cuz I saw you had called, D, and wanted to make sure you were okay. And you are. So um… can we save the ‘we’re dating’ conversation for tomorrow?”

Delilah shook the bag of food. “We picked you up something, too. Please, Mikey?”

~~~

“So… let me see if I got this right. In addition to crushing on each other, you both also have a crush on me?” Michael asked, after Ashton and Delilah brought him up to speed.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Delilah nodded, leaning forward to set the now empty take out food container on the coffee table.

Michael looked over at Ashton with a raised eyebrow, “How drunk is she?”

Ashton giggled, while Delilah gaped at Michael and gave him a small shove with an indignant “Hey! I’m not that drunk. Anymore…”

“Well fuck! So we’ve all just been crushing on each other, and swallowing our pride, so nobody gets their feelings hurt except ourselves?”

“Can’t leave out the stupidest part of how all of us at some point encouraged someone to make a move on someone else.”

“Fuck, no wonder Cal and Luke bail on so many plans with us… This shit is infuriating… But now that it’s all cleared up, what do we do? How does this… work exactly?”

“I don’t know… I have enough trouble figuring out how to date one person…” Ashton admitted, making the other two laugh in agreement. “But if anyone can figure it out, it’s us, yeah?”

“Exactly,” Delilah smiled at him, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “We’re all friends first. There isn’t anything we keep from each other.”

“Minus the crushes we all had on each other, that is,” Michael amended. Then, “So… have you guys kissed yet?”

“We did, yeah,” Ashton told him, with a sheepish grin.

“Fuckers…”

“Aw, poor baby,” Delilah teased, leaning towards Michael to press a kiss to his cheek. At the last possible second, Michael turned his head, so her lips locked onto his rather than the intended target of his cheek.

He sighed in content against her lips, tasting the barest traces of wine still leftover, sweet and savory. “Can’t begin to tell you how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” he murmured as they broke apart.

“Well, now you can do it whenever you want,” she smiled.

Ashton cleared his throat. “Still here.”

Michael’s cheeks flushed. “Right. Yeah… erm…”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Ashton groaned, hooking his fingers under Michael’s chin to get them to look at each other. “It’s a kiss, dumbass, not rocket science.”

“Calling your boyfriend a dumbass isn’t very nice of you,” Michael teased lightly.

Ashton shuddered as his lips crushed into Michael’s, “Fuck, say that again.”

“Boyfriend,” Michael grinned against Ashton’s mouth.

“My boyfriends,” Delilah beamed proudly at them.

“Our girlfriend,” they chorused back.

Tag List

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#crush crush crush #michael clifford #michael clifford fic #michael clifford x oc #ashton irwin #ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin x oc #mashton #mashton fic #michael clifford x ashton irwin #poly!mashton #5sos #calpal irwin

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lupismaris · 3 years

Note

For the requests silver flint Hamilton adopting a cat?

(aahh i loved this thank you!!! it got a bit long so I’ve put most of it under a readmore but I hope you like it!)

Silverflintham in my general modern au.

******

“What’s this?” Silver asked, digging through the grocery bags that now littered the kitchen counter.

Flint was busy sorting through the day’s mail, tortoise shell reading glasses perched on his nose, brow furrowed as he read over a dinner invitation for himself and Thomas.

“What’s what?” he asked, tossing aside the invite and shuffling through bills.

Silver rolled his eyes and slid the stack of high end tins of cat food across the counter until it was in Flint’s line of sight. He knew that if he went down to the first floor he’d find a large bag of high end kibble to match, likely resting by the patio door.

Flint looked up, saw the cans, and snatched them off the counter. “Nothing. Just- for the shelter-“ he muttered as his ears started to burn.

“The shelter you send a check to once a month and whenever they ask?” Silver clarified, perching himself on the edge of the bar as Flint tucked the cans of food in the back of a cupboard. “That shelter?”

Flint scowled at him. “Yes for that shelter, they put out fliers asking for supplies alright? Figured I’d drop some off on my way to work tomorrow,” he snapped. There was very little bite to it, it was rare that Flint ever truly got annoyed with him.

“And it’s not for the slowly growing cat colony you totally aren’t feeding out in the alley each night?” Silver asked in a sweet voice.

He’d known about the stray cats in the neighborhood almost from the beginning of his relationship with Flint, how he’d keep a bag of food at the bar in case any of them came to the kitchen door, how according to Gates he’d managed to trap a few and get them to a rescue. He hadn’t found out about Flint’s unofficial colony of strays, however, until he had moved in. At present Silver guessed it was only a handful, four or five adult cats who were either content being feral or just waiting for the right home.

Flint liked to think he was subtle, that he wasn’t so obviously sneaking out each night before bed to leave food and water in the alley, to make sure the little cat boxes another neighbor had built were in tact. Silver let him believe it, though he couldn’t be sure whether or not Thomas knew about his husband’s unbearably endearing hobby.

Silver laughed softly at the flustered and indignant look on Flint’s face, the flush in his cheeks making his freckles turn ruddy. He reached for his hand. Flint took it without hesitation.

“It’s kitten season,” he said softly, not meeting Silver’s eye, “and that always means a few more strays on the streets. The little ones need different food, more calories so they put on the proper weight. That’s all.”

Of course Flint would be thinking about the kittens. Of course. God Silver had fallen in love with a truly ridiculous, wonderful man.

“I’m only teasing. You’re awful sweet,” he said, pulling Flint in for a kiss. It was enough to soothe Flint’s bristly demeanor, though he was still a bit flustered when he pulled away with a muttered ‘am not.’

Silver hooked his arms around Flint’s middle and tucked his face into his neck, purring slightly when Flint leaned into him and went back to sorting the mail. “You are. Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone. Your husband might though.”

Flint huffed a laughed and kissed Silver’s curls. “Oh without a doubt. Speaking of, he home yet?”

Home, that was still taking some getting used to.

“No but he did say he’d be a bit late today, last minute student meetings or something.” Silver said against Flint’s throat, pausing to mouth a bit at the hinge of his jaw. He could feel the vibration of Flint’s soft rumble of content and he nipped the soft skin below his ear.

“Well dinner won’t take long, I can fridge the duck for now, wait till it’s closer to supper time.” Flint’s voice held a note of mischief to it. “I’m sure we can think of something to entertain us in the mean time.”

Silver smiled against Flint’s throat, lifting his head to kiss him. “Oh I have a few ideas.”

Flint chuckled into the kiss, pulling back despite Silver’s whine of protest. “I’m sure you do. Help me finish the chores, pup, and you can tell me just what kind of ideas you have hm?”

As if Silver could say no to Flint, in his reading glasses and half buttoned shirt, his hair pulled back in a messy bun so the well trimmed undercut was visible.

They got the groceries put away, the ingredients for dinner prepped and stowed in the fridge, the duck legs braising in the oven, and when Silver thought he’d finally be able to get Flint at least to the sofa to make out like twenty year olds, Flint instead asked him to follow him down to the garden.

He took Silver out to see where he left the food for the cats, no longer keeping up the old pretenses that he was keeping it secret. Three of the cats were lingering in the alley when they stepped out of the back gate, a big black bruiser of a cat with a clipped ear and a few scars on his muzzle. He didn’t like silver one bit but he went right up to Flint as if greeting an old and cherished friend. The other two were younger, long haired domestics Silver would’ve guessed.

“Those two are brothers I think,” Flint told him, as the one with a white belly and rusty brown spots came over to inspect Silver, the other with tabby markings watching warily. “They’re new, oddly friendly, which means they likely had a home first.”

“Poor things,” Silver murmured, letting the two cats inspect his hands. He noted that they didn’t have their ears tagged. “Are they much younger than the others?”

“Probably only a year or so old, I’d guess. I was waiting for them to get a bit bigger before trying to take them to a rescue, so they can get fixed and all their shots and stuff. I could trap them rather easily I think but the closest shelter is overwhelmed right now.”

Silver nodded, setting out a bowl of food for them to share. “This explains all those random scratches you keep coming home with,” he said flatly, relishing the way it made Flint laugh.

Half an hour passed and Bruiser, as Silver now called him, trotted off to do whatever it was stray cats did. The brothers were happily playing with each other, tumbling and rough housing down the alley.

“You know, I’m surprised you haven’t just…” Silver mulled over his words as he and Flint went back inside, pulling the garden gate closed behind him. He was too focused on Flint, and his own thoughts, to double check if the latch had caught properly.

“Brought them inside?” Flint offered.

“Yeah. I’ve only just met them and I find myself considering how to convince Thomas we should adopt them. Well, I dunno if Bruiser wants to be adopted but the others-“

Flint shrugged, leading the way up the back stairs to the deck that extended from the back of the kitchen, leaving the glass door cracked a little to let in the cooler evening air. “Between you and me, Bruiser is about a week away from being adopted by the little old lady on the next block. I was seeing him less and less and got worried but it turns out shes got a whole set up for him. I’m sure it won’t be long before she gets him inside and he refuses to leave. The others though… I dunno I guess I’ve always had strays and never an actual cat. We had them back in Padstow, and in Camden, in Manhattan, and even when I was stationed abroad. There were always strays.”

Silver considered him, following Flint into the kitchen and again perching himself on the bar. “You knew how to take care of strays but the concept of being their forever home scared you.”

It took a moment for Flint to reply. Silver watched him roll up his sleeves, tattoos vibrant in the golden hour light that filled the kitchen. He watched as he washed his hands, pulled out the prepared ingredients for the duck sauvage and rabe he was making, and set to work.

“I never felt stable enough to have a pet,” Flint said as he coated the pan in butter. “Not even when Thomas and I were first over in Manhattan, once he’d recovered from the accident, it just- there were too many risks, too many variables. We already had so much on our plate, between his recovery and the bar that any pet we did have wouldn’t get the attention it needed.”

He set the seasoned duck breasts in the pan and let them cook, stepping away to pour them each a glass of negroni from the pitcher he’d made the night before. “I refused to adopt an animal only to risk neglecting it. So, once we moved here I found the local ferals and the people with their own colonies and did what I could.”

Silver nodded, taking the drink and the soft kiss that came with it. “And now? Since you both seemed so settled here?”

Flint smiled fondly at him. “I was too busy making sure I could bring you home for good to think about pets.”

For an asshole, Flint really was an unbelievably sappy romantic.

Silver felt himself blushing, knew he must have been from the way Flint’s smile sharpened a little before stealing another kiss. “I suppose thats fair.”

They looked up at the sound of the front door and sure enough Thomas’ voice echoed down the hall. “I hope you two aren’t fucking without me again.”

“Do blow jobs count?” Silver called back as Flint flicked his ear, the sound of Thomas’ laughter preceding him.

“Whatever you’re cooking smells divine,” Thomas said, joining them in the kitchen. He looked tired, his carefully styled hair a bit ruffled from the wind and his fingers toying with it, his shoulders heavy with a full day of lectures so that he leaned more heavily on his ornate walking stick than he had that morning. Silver watched as he pulled Flint in for a kiss, noting the way his body began to relax and shed the stress.

“It’ll be ready in forty minutes, if you both can stop distracting me,” Flint teased, kissing his husband’s cheek before turning back to the stove. “How was your day?”

Thomas groaned, moving around Flint to greet Sliver with a kiss hello. “Don’t ask me that till I’ve had time to process it. Exam season approaches with it’s usual misery.” Silver managed to steal a few more progressively dirty kisses before Thomas pulled away with a hum. “Hello pet.”

“Evening Professor,” Silver replied sweetly, feeling a thrill at the way Thomas’ blue eyes darkened at the title. “Need some help freshening up before dinner?”

Thomas laughed, though he looked like he might be considering it, and took a sip of Silver’s drink. “No, no, best save that for after dinner. I’m just going to go wash up down the hall.”

Begrudgingly Silver let him go, moving to sit in one of the bar chairs so he could watch Flint cook more comfortably. For short time the kitchen was quiet, save for the sounds of food cooking and Flint occasionally muttering to himself.

Then, suddenly, they heard Thomas’ voice in the hall.

“Oh- oh my goodness hello precious! Oh hello just look at you-“

Flint looked up from the stove top with a frown that Silver returned. They listened a moment long as Thomas cooed and made soft little noises, the kind someone made when talking to a cat, for example.

There was a moment of silent realization as they stared at each other. The glass door to the deck was still open.

“Did you make sure the gate was closed?” Flint asked, already moving to clean his hands.

“In theory?” Silver replied, scrambling off his stool and out into the hall.

Thomas sat against the wall with the white and brown stray in his arms, the cat purring loudly and rubbing himself all over Thomas’ shirt. His brother was sniffing curiously at Thomas’ shoes, though upon seeing Silver, he trotted over to him with his long fluffy tail held high. Silver crouched down as best he could without his prosthetic, holding out his hand to the cat who greeted him happily.

“You didn’t tell me we were adopting kittens!” Thomas said in bewildered delight when Flint finally joined them, the poor man staring at his two partners in equal disbelief.

“Uhm.”

“They were curled up in the parlor! They woke up when I came in a suppose and they followed me over to the bathroom- where did you get them? They’re such angels oh my goodness-”

“It’s a bit of a story, actually.” Silver held back his laughter as the more skittish brother crawled into his lap, Flint’s face growing more and more overwhelmed, and more and more flushed as he watched.

“They’re uhm. Strays.” Flint finally managed to say. “From the neighborhood. I must’ve left the gate open, and the- the deck door was- they must've slipped in while I was cooking-”

“Oh you saint of a man,” Thomas said, getting carefully to his feet with an armful of cat. “Were you feeding them? Of course you were, thats a ridiculous question isn’t it. Have they had their shots? Oh we need to find a vet, schedule a visit. And they need baths, and a groomer too I imagine. Do we have enough food-” his voiced trailed off as he went back to the kitchen to search the cabinets.

Silver looked up at Flint with a fond smile.

“Guess I brought a few extra strays with me, huh?” he asked, holding out a hand so Flint could help him up.

It got him a weak laugh, Flint helping him carefully to his feet and greeting the cat in his arms. “Looks like it. Though I don’t think any of you are strays anymore, what with a home like this and all.”

Silver tried not to think too hard about the way his heart ached at Flint’s words, leaning in for a kiss instead. “Go finish dinner, I’ll help Thomas get these two washed up.”

The cat in his arms lifted his striped shaggy head and nuzzled into Flint’s beard a moment, as if to reassure him and Silver watched as any possible argument Flint might muster vanished in an instant.

“Good thing I bought that extra cat food, huh?”

#my fics #silverflinthamilton #@zacklover24 #jamie's fic prompt fills #john silver #james flint #thomas hamilton #this got really long because i got caught up in the idea of flint caring for strays and brooklyn has SO MANY STRAYS!!!! so like!!!!#thank you for this i loved writing it so much

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randomrosewrites · 4 years

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An eternity more

AO3

A special Alastor x reader fic just in time for Halloween!

Word count: 2000

Warnings: Mild language

Summary: Alastor and his partner celebrate Halloween.

In Hell, there was one day a year in which the usual brutality and gore that occurred was not only just commonplace, but treated as a festivity.

Halloween. Sometimes referred to as Hallow’s eve, or Samhain.

Every circle always had some type of event going on. Violence had fighting matches all throughout the day. Gluttony had haunted house walks and tours in their suicide forests. Even unpopular circles like Limbo got into the Halloween spirit by having small carvals pop up here and there.

For the denizens of Hell, Halloween was a day where every sicko, nutjob, and crazy could find something that tickled their fancy.

On a night of such horrors, many people expected that of the Radio Demon to be doing something horribly violent; Engaged in some form of terrorism or inspiring fear into the masses via one of his broadcast.

Instead, though-

“Darling! Look over here, they’ve got handmade masks!” Alastor says to you, excitedly dragging you along the streets of Pentagram city.

-he’s quite the opposite

While Alastor was more than happy to spend his nights prowling the streets and seeing the fear ignite in people’s eyes, he enjoyed other things besides that. He wasn’t entirely diabolical. Why go around causing chaos like some petty ruffian when there were other superior activities to engage in?

Tonight, as you walk the streets alongside him, the city is busier than ever. The night sky is stained a dark garnet and the cold air makes you snuggle closer into your coat. Pedestrians pack together in the streets, a huge mass of limbs and bodies.

Vendors and shops have their doors wide open, showing off their merchandise or advertising for one thing or another. There’s food stalls, costume shops, drug vending machines, antique stores, and the like. Alastor zig zags from stall to stall, checking out every and anything that catches his eye.

His own usual outfit is changed for the event, instead of the normal red he’s changed into a dark burgundy, so dark it almost looks brown. One of his red-gloved hands holds yours, dragging you along with him. You have to nearly run to keep up with his long strides.

He comes to a stop, the action so sudden you bump into him.

“Ow - why’d you stop-”

You look at the building you’ve stopped in front of. A bright neon sign reads ‘The House of Haunted Horrors’

A bloody haunted house.

Alastor looks at you, excitement shining in his eyes. “Shall we go in?”

“Al, you know I get scared easily-”

“Great!” he says before you can finish, dragging you through along with him into the entrance.

“No, wait! - Oh my god no Alastor, Alastor!” you protest to no avail.

After a brief talk with the receptionist, (who’s eyes nearly bulged out of their skull when they saw him) you’re ushered into another room where the attraction begins.

The employee tells you the backstory for the situation. You’re a scientist trapped in an underground laboratory where demons were experimented on. After a sudden outbreak has cut off all power and communication, you’ve got to find the exit before the creatures in the dark can get to you first.

You’re utterly horrified. Alastor’s delighted.

She hands you each a flashlight and wishes you good luck before closing the door and leaving you to begin.

“Well, let’s get going, shall we?” Alastor takes your hand (Which you cling onto tightly), flicking on his flashlight and starting down the hallway.

The hallway is dark and grimy. The flashlight can’t shine very far so you can only see whats a few feet ahead of you at a time. Your footsteps echo through the eerily quiet corridor. The only sound is of your tense breathing and your heartbeat in your ears.

“I hate this, I hate this-” you groan, latching yourself onto Alastor’s side and burying your face in his coat.

“Don’t worry darling, it’ll be fun!” he reassures you, patting you on the back. It’s at that moment that a hollow groan rings through the hallway, making your entire body tense.

“Oh fuck - I hate this, I hate this-” you hiss.

“What about this do you hate?” Alastor asks, keeping one arm around you and one on the flashlight. “The dark? The feeling of not knowing what lies ahead? The weight of-”

“Al,” you snap. “Not. Helping.”

You can hear the smile in his voice. “Apologies. I couldn’t help myself. Fear is a wonderful emotion on you, dear.”

Though for as much as he teases you, you can by the way he keeps a firm grip on you and the whispered assurances he utters periodically that he does care about you. You also know he wouldn’t hesitate to get you out of there if you truly were terrified.

The two of you explore different hallways and rooms, slowly making your way through the attraction. You pass by corpses (that you hope are just fake) covered in blood, scratch marks on the walls ripping up the wallpaper, dismembered limbs, empty cages and cells, and other grotesque, creepy sights.

In one room, you open the door to see a stuffed bear sitting on a chair in the far corner. When you enter and explore the room, you look back to find that the beat has moved towards you.

Yeah, no.

“Fuck this, fuck this, fuck this-” You run out of there as fast as possible, slamming the door behind you. Alastor laughs at your reaction, jogging to catch up to you.

You continue further into the attraction. Occasionally a gust of wind or a nearby whisper will make you whip around and press closer to Alastor, heart hammering in your chest, but you’ve seen no actors yet. Are there any? Or have they all been scared into immobilization?

You’ve just about let your guard down when you open the door to the next room and are met with a looming, black figure standing in the corridor.

They’re tall, much taller than you, with long black limbs and two glowing eyes. You’re so surprised at the creature’s sudden appearance that you don’t even think to scream. From the mass of black, a cavern opens up - its mouth - emitting a hisss sound. When the figure reaches out towards you, your mind goes blank with terror.

Behind you, you can feel Alastor’s form shift.

One note about Alasotr’s demon form - you’d seen it hundreds of times before. You’d seen his pupils go black, seen him stretch until he was a tall, lanky stick figure with teeth that took up half of his face more times than you can count.

A lot of things might scare you, but Alastor doesn’t.

But it definitely scares the worker. He drops his act, taking off into the darkness like his life depended on it.

When you look at Alastor again, he’s returned to normal. He has the same smile on his face, but he seems slightly disappointed.

“How pitiable.” he murmurs, before saying to you in a much lighter tone. “Shall we continue?”

There’s little else to the haunted house. A few more creepy sounds and flashes of moving figures from the corner of your eyes, but nothing else quite like the cryptid in the doorway.

When you finally do exit into the noisy streets of the city, you breathe and sigh of relief.

“That was quite charming, yes it was!” Alastor chirps. “It could have been more frightening but all-in-all, it was quite entertaining. Don’t you think so too, dear?”

You clutch his suit under your bloodless knuckles. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Alastor gives a hearty laugh, giving you a reassuring rub of his arm. “You did very well.”

As you leave, you spot some of the employees from the haunted house. Their costumes are half-off and they’re hugging the wall of the building, warily regarding the Radio Demon, looking utterly terrified - even more scared than you ever were.

And for a second, you agree with Alastor - fear is a wonderful emotion.

---

By the time you return home to your quiet home outside of the city, it’s almost midnight. Alastor makes the two of you supper and you eat it by the fireplace, the bright flames casting off every shadow in the room.

“Did you enjoy yourself today, darling?” He asks after a few minutes into the conversation. He’s changed into a casual sweater and vest. It isn’t anything groundbreaking, but the outfit is so fitting and looks so good on him that you can’t help but stare.

“I did,” you say, then with a bit of salt- “Even though you forced me to go into that haunted house.”

“Yes, but it was fun, was it not?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” you admit. “But that’s probably because you were there with me.”

“Wonderful! I felt as though the actors could have been more adequate. Back in my day, even the worst of performers could do a better job than those buffoons.”

You take a bite of your food, hiding a smile. “I think you’re the reason they were so scared, Al. After you shifted into your true demon form and scared them, no one else dared to try and piss you off.”

“But I wasn’t trying to frighten them off entirely!” he whines. “What kind of a person goes around scaring people for their occupation but can’t handle a little intimidation?”

“People are scared of you, love.”

His nose wrinkles. “That I am more than aware of,” his expression softens. “But you aren’t.”

“No,” you reach across the table to squeeze his hand. “I’m not.”

The conversations steers elsewhere and the two of you finish dinner. After the dishes are done, you coax Alastor into joining you on the couch. You lay on top of him, pressing your ear to his chest. Your fingers rub against the soft cotton of Alastor’s sweater, drawing patterns on the material.

“Do you like my clothes?” He asks. Not accusatory or demanding, simply curious.

“Yes,” you slide your fingers up to play with the collar of his shirt. “Very much so.”

“Then by all means, play to your heart's content.” His hands go to your waist, sliding his thumb underneath your shirt to rub at your hip.

You hiss. “Your fingers are cold.”

“Apologies,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose into your hair. “I can’t help it.”

He always ran a cooler temperature, no matter what. He was like a cold-blooded lizard, always leaching off of your warmth whenever he could. His favourite thing to do was to slip his cold hands along your neck when you weren’t expecting it, just to hear the noise that would come out of you.

Your hand trails up, along his neck, over his jaw, and rubbing against his lip. He carefully nibbles on one of your fingertips, staring at you intensely. His teeth clamp down not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough so that you feel the pressure from them.

“Beautiful…” you breathe. His hand slides up your back, running along your spine.

Your free hand travels further upwards, nesting in his hair. The tips of your fingers stroke against the firm cartilage of his ear and he inhales sharply, ears folding to his skull.

You hesitate. The ears slowly rise again.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask.

“No…” he whispers, releasing your finger from his mouth.“You can keep going. Just unused to it…”

Carefully, gently, you rub his ears. They’re quite soft, but also quite delicate so you’re careful not to overwhelm him. A hum emerges from Alastor’s throat, vibrating through your body. He’s tense at first, taught like a bow string, but over time he relaxes, melting into the couch.

His hands seek out the small crevices in your body as well, your sides, your shoulders, your neck. A few times he has to seek the solace of your neck, whining and nipping kisses underneath your ear.

Touching each other, exploring the way you each react to touches, giving soft affections - It doesn’t go farther past that, but none of you are seeking anything else from it. Every touch is for no greater reason other than it simply feels good.

You let the time pass. It’s impossible to tell how long exactly, but it’s a while before you’re both satisfied. You wrap your arms around his torso and press your face into his shirt. He smells like rich wood and strong spices. Most of all, he smells fresh. There’s simply no other way to describe it.

“I wish we could stay like this every night,” you sigh, “Tonight...and the next night..”

Alastor kisses the top of your head. “And then the next night...and the next...and the one after that, too…”

You lift your head to kiss him on the lips. “And for an eternity more.” His eyes flutter wide open, blinking just like a dazed dear. You want to giggle with how cute it is.

His expression melts into one of pure bliss, red eyes hazily gazing into yours. He chuckles, kissing the tip of your nose. “And for an eternity more.”

#alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor imagines #fluff #halloween

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thecaffeinebookwarrior · 4 years

Text

Monster of the Week: The Undead!

From spooky scary skeletons to the original zombies, let’s have a look at the undead who have risen around the globe! This will not include vampires (which I have already compiled a post on) or ghosts (which I plan to compile a post on.)

Note that many of these can best be understood -- or only understood -- in their original cultural context, and I encourage you to continue your research if the lore interests you.

Skeletons/Skeletal Creatures

I am, for whatever reason, enthusiastic about skeletons. There’s a drama to them. They look like they’re perpetually grinning, or grimacing, which makes them oddly relatable. As an artist, I’m always thinking about them as the framework for poses.

More importantly, there’s one in all of us -- sorry if that made you uncomfortable -- which makes them a universally recurring being in global folklore. Let’s take a look at just a few.

Gashadokuro

Literally translating to “rattling skull,” the Gashadokuro is also called Odokoru (giant skull) or simply “the hungry skeleton.” That basically tells you all you need to know.

These big boys (and I mean REALLY big) wander around the countryside at night. Their name derives from the eerie rattling noise produced by their giant skulls. As chill as this may sound, the Gashadokuro is not actually chill at all, and if you come across them they will not hesitate bite your head off. This may seem like a jerk move, since they don’t even have a stomach, but they need the energy of the living in order to sustain themselves.

Like most undead fellas on this list, the Gashadokuro has its origins in the real world. They are thought to originate from the mass-graves, usually of those who died under violent or inhumane circumstances, the supernatural byproduct of countless skeletons.

The first Gashadokuro was thought to have originated after a specific bloody rebellion, in which the bereaved, sorceress daughter of a samurai summoned a giant skeleton from the mass grave of the rebelling soldiers and used it to attack the city. Queen behavior, if you ask me.

Santa Muerte

Image Source

Let’s conclude this portion with my favorite skeleton (excluding Baron Samedi, who doesn’t count, as he is often depicted as a man, or a man with a skull-like face), the goddess/folk saint Santa Muerte.

I still have a lot to learn about the rich folklore surrounding Santa Muerte, but to my understanding, she was born of a combination of pre-Columbian Indigenous religions and Mexican-American folk Catholicism.

Depicted as a skeleton in beautiful, feminine attire and considered to be embodiment of death, Santa Muerte is a healing and protective figure. She is beloved by legions of worshippers, despite condemnations from the Catholic church, and symbolizes a culturally positive relationship with death.

Despite appearances, she is a life-affirming figure.

Zombies and Reanimated Corpses:

The Draugr

When we hear “zombie,” we don’t traditionally think of “Norse mythology.” And yet, the Nordics had their very own zombie mythos, boasting some truly terrifying undead.

It is said that they first emerge from their graves as little more than wisps of smoke and a stench of decay, before adopting a humanoid form that boasts superhuman strength, the ability to change size at will, and the ability to shape-shift.

They aren’t mindless -- far from it. They boast an anthropomorphic intelligence, which makes them all the more dangerous.

As to what drives them from their graves? Jealousy and bitterness towards the living. Relatable, honestly.

The Jiangshi

(Note: I wish they were all as adorable as the one in this gif.)

This Chinese hopping corpse may have evolved into more of a vampire by Western influences, but it was originally far more zombie-like. And a unique zombie at that.

Due to rigor mortis, the Jiangshi hops stiffly from place to place, holding its arms straight out. What’s even more singular is their origin. Try to guess. Go ahead, try. You won’t be able to.

The Jiangshi is what occurs when a bereaved family, lacking the proper funds to send their loved one’s body back to their ancestral land for burial, hires a necromancing corpse driver to reanimate the cadaver and guide it as it hops back to its resting place. They’d travel at night to avoid or minimize decay, either prodded by a stick or to the beat of a drum.

Other ways to create a Jiangshi include improper burial, suicide, or possession.

Looking upon a Jiangshi is said to be bad luck, and presumably very unpleasant. However, the real problem is their insatiable appetite.

But fear not: if you see an unhealthy looking fellow hopping towards you with pasty, possibly decaying skin, you can protect yourself with mirrors, the hooves of a black donkey, or the wood of a peach tree. They can also be scared off by the sound of a crowing rooster, though that would require a bit of planning, and the cooperation of the rooster in question. Which, knowing roosters, is unlikely.

Haitian Zombies

All legends of the undead have roots in real tragedies, but this one is particularly upsetting -- and the source of the zombie legend in the Western world today.

The enslaved people of Haiti believed that death would set them free, sending them back to an idyllic version of their homeland unburdened by colonialism. But only if death came naturally. Suicide would turn them into mindless husks, carrying out the drudgery of their captors. A haunting parallel to the practice of slavery itself.

The concept was introduced to a contemporary audience by the 1932 film White Zombie, which sees a white “voodoo master” (who clearly didn’t know anything about the actual Voodoo religion) using witchcraft to create obedient slaves. He eventually uses this (ahem) “”voodoo”” on a white woman to try and force her to fall in love with him.

With the term “zombie” in public consciousness, it became an applicable allegory for all of society’s ills, and can now be used to refer to anything from mob mentality to consumerism. But few are as haunting and as disturbing as its origins.

Videos on zombies:

The Origin of the Zombie, from Haiti to the US

Where Zombies Come From

100 Hundred Years of Zombie Evolution in Pop Culture

Best Contemporary Zombie Movies*

*That I know of. Will update with more.

Night of the Living Dead - Though White Zombie introduced the term, it was arguably this film that popularized zombies as we know them today, particularly as an allegory for herd mentality and consumerism. Its successors, including Day of the Dead and Dawn of the Dead, prove similarly influential.

The Evil Dead Trilogy - Established that zombies can be fun, while also serving as an allegory for various societal problems. Also features undead that are refreshingly ravenous and evil without necessarily being mindless.

The Re-Animator - These days, the average zombie movie pushes the bounds of creativity is “make ‘em faster!” The Re-Animator’s take on the genre, however, would make Mary Shelley proud. Based loosely on the Lovecraft story, “Herbert West - Reanimator,” the films greatest triumph is its ability to have fun with its grisly premise, and compel the audience to have fun, too. It’s also a cautionary tale about why it’s important to be careful while getting a roommate.

Shaun of the Dead - I’m not kidding. This film is great, and shows that you don’t need a serious tone to be heartfelt, scary, or provide a thought-provoking social commentary. Way back when I was a sixteen-year-old college freshman, I turned up to class as a zombie cheerleader, and my psychology professor recommended Shaun of the Dead to me. She’s a woman of impeccable taste, and it did not disappoint.

28 Days Later - Before Cillian Murphy gave us Tommy Shelby, a gangster so pretty he could give Al Capone a sexual identity crisis, he was proving his mettle in the zombie-addled UK. For 2020 reasons, watching him wander the abandoned streets of London with a questionable haircut feels very topical. Add a stellar performance from Naomie Harris, and there’s a reason it sent me into a bisexual panic it’s considered a modern classic of the genre.

Little Monsters - An egregiously underrated flick, featuring a kindergarten teacher (who happens to be, you know, Lupita Nyong’o) protecting her class during a zombie outbreak. A must watch if you want a zombie movie with a powerhouse lead, a happy ending, and perhaps the most badass kindergarten teacher in cinematic history.

#monster of the week #writers reference #writers resources #skeletons #zombies #blood for ts #racism mention for ts

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