#it really only affects the left half of his head but he's still an avid supporter of the method and recommends it to everyone he knows | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mymedicine · 4 years

Text

Alocasia

or, 7.5k words of blushy harry and sassy y/n

moodboard/inspo tag + my masterlist

sum - y/n doesn’t like people, but she likes harry—even though he keeps fucking this up

warnings - language, alcohol, mentions of sex (not explicit), lots of banter, excessive use of parentheses, umm... veganism?

notes - hiii! for once i don’t really have anything to say other than welcome, to a very fluffy and kind of chaotic one shot. hope you give her a chance and a reblog if you enjoy! <3

Upon moving into his charming downtown apartment, Harry was feeling a lot of things.

He was excited at the prospect of living there, of waking up in his cozy new bedroom, of flipping pancakes in the kitchen with a stunning view of the city skyline, and of lounging on his soft gray couch while watching reruns of Criminal Minds. He was also anxious, and a little annoyed. There were groceries to be bought, chores to be done, bills to be paid (Fuckin’ landlord was an ass for refusing to include utilities in the rent). The cabinets in the bathroom were a little creaky (Do I need some WD-40? Can I afford WD-40?!) He even had to walk up four flights of stairs to get to his door, a task which Harry was keen to count as his daily exercise.

Above all, Harry was lonely. Living alone was a blessing and a curse, he reckoned. He could lounge about without any clothes, dance in the kitchen to the sounds of Folklore (a guilty pleasure), and watch creepypasta videos on YouTube until three am (and consequently stay up til dawn, for fear of nightmares) without worrying about anyone but himself.

But after just two days in the new place, he was concerned that the cost of privacy may not be worth it. Loneliness and boredom weighed heavily on his conscience as he laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling. Not only did he live alone, but he also didn’t have any friends in the city yet. No one to see, nothing to do. Lost, he decided. No direction, no purpose…Only four walls and a bunch of empty cabinets.

And yet it wasn’t even social interaction he craved necessarily—it was purpose, company, and…perhaps some cuddles. He briefly considered the idea of a pet. Maybe a friendly little French bulldog to chase around and be responsible for? Or a fluffy Maine Coon kitty to scratch behind the ear and snuggle at night?

But the bills…the responsibility…The prudent adult deep within Harry knew he was hardly ready to support himself, let alone a helpless animal. He’d have to feed it and walk it and make sure it didn’t shit all over the floor—not to mention the landlord would raise hell if he found out.

Meanwhile, the soft, gentle, maybe a little naive man who dominated Harry’s conscience was craving a friend. Pets were a no for now, so what’s the next best thing? He grappled with the question…Surely, a person was the obvious answer. He wouldn’t mind a pretty body to warm his heart—or, at least, his bed.

Harry stretched his legs out over the arm of the couch—the only furniture he had at the moment aside from his mattress on the floor of the bedroom—and snuggled into his cozy corduroy blanket, craving warmth in the cold apartment. A rainbow cardigan adorned his chest today, draped over a plain white turtleneck that warmed his neck. He liked to keep it cold so he could be snuggly wrapped in his sweaters without sweating bullets. He dug around in the pocket of his cardigan for his phone, eager to receive affection from something other than his clothes.

In retrospect, Tinder had given Harry far more unfortunate encounters with other people (lots of younger girls just looking for a plug and toxic guys who left him on read) than pleasurable ones. But hindsight was always 20/20 and isolation had already planted the seed in his head.

He quickly examined his own profile. It consisted of two photos of him smirking softly (not too serious, but not too eager either), one with his sister and his mum (to show he’s a family man), and a group one with his mates (because sure, he was lonely, but he didn’t want people to know that). There were also one or two shirtless photos (thirst traps, according to Niall) that he’d sprinkled in between the tame ones even though it made him feel kind of icky. Weighing the odds, he’d decided that desperation for matches outweighed the cringey-ness of it all.

His very last photo was the only one where he felt like himself. He was smiling wide in it, wearing a baby blue sweater with a little chick popping out of its egg on the front that Mitch had teased him for back home. His bio, too, showcased his wholesome values.

Harry’s eyes widened as he observed on the first person he saw upon opening the home page—Y/N. She only had two photos—a shot of her perched on a car hood and smiling wide and one far away one with her figure drowning in a sea of…plants. Fittingly, her bio read: “I love plants and I hate people.”

She was beautiful and every bit as anti-social as himself. It was perfect.

Harry laughed softly to himself and swiped right immediately. He was giddy when the familiar It’s a match! popped up on the screen immediately. His thumbs hovered over the keypad, brow furrowed as he frowned at the screen. Matching was one thing, but actually starting a conversation was another entirely.

Ultimately, he decided honesty was the best policy:

you had me at ‘i hate people’ :D

Now what? Matching was one thing, starting a conversation was another, but having a whole conversation was another thing entirely. He hated the waiting, especially when he had absolutely nothing to busy himself with in the mean time, aside from fiddling with his fingers and doing laps around his living room.

Seven minutes later (not that he’s counting), a ding came through on his phone.

y/n: you had me at ‘treat people with kindness,’ mon petit :)

Harry smiled wide. He was pleased she’d noticed not only his bio, but also the sweater he was wearing in his favorite photo of himself. It was the perfect response from a perfect girl.

harry: so what do you do?

y/n: i work at a plant shop on Main

Figures, he thought. He imagined her carrying a watering pitcher, tending to a plant with gentle fingers. She’d be surrounded by them like she was in the photo on her profile, green on all sides. God, he thought. What a beautiful scene with a beautiful star.

harry: wanna go for drinks tonight and talk about plants?

y/n: sure ;)

Nightfall brought a chill to the air that made Harry desperately want to curl up into his warm bed and snuggle into his pillow. But here he was, shuffling his feet outside the crowded bar and absently wearing another tiny hole in the sleeve of his striped sweater. It was a decent bar in town. They didn’t water down the drinks and they kept the lights dim so she wouldn’t have to see him flushed beet red after one drink. That is, if she would show up at all.

“Hey, you’re Harry?”

He turned quickly toward the sound of the voice, and there she was. And holy shit, he thought. That is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her two profile photos did not even begin to do her justice. The idea of a mere photo on a screen couldn’t even compare to the real thing. He would never be keen to look at a photo again, he reckoned. It wouldn’t make his heart bloom and flutter like the vision of her in front of him did. Was this love at first sight?

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, and not because the chilly night, “Y/N, right?”

Harry didn’t think he really believed in love—certainly not love at first sight, but this girl was throwing him into another world. Before, he couldn’t seem to stand still, but her presence in front him planted his feet firmly on the ground.

“Yep, that’s me!” She smiled wide, speaking cooly and confidently. It was obvious she knew how beautiful she was and, even more evident, how enamored Harry already was with her.

“I—you’re absolutely beautiful,” The words slipped out of his lips before he could catch them—not that he was really making any effort to hide his attraction for her. Still, he enjoyed the way her eyes brightened and teeth gently nibbled at her bottom lip in response to the compliment

And suddenly, the idea of merely kissing her soft flesh, tickling her sweet bud, and ultimately burying himself inside her tonight didn’t seem like enough. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to smell her hair and hear her laugh. He wanted to make her pancakes in the morning and kiss her lips, sweetened lightly with maple syrup. He wanted to love her.

No, he couldn’t possibly ruin his chance with a girl like this by fucking her on the couch in his cold, lonely apartment, never to see or hear from her again.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Of course.”

One hour and four and a half drinks later, (whiskey cokes for Y/N, vodka crans for Harry) the cramped bar was hot and they were floating on air. He’d learned that she worked at Main Street Nursery, usually by herself, sometimes with her cousin who owned the place. She was an avid vegan, but only because she hated meat and dairy made her sick. She’d learned that Harry was new in town and lived only a block away from Main. Also, Y/N managed to learn that Harry had no friends here and was very lonely in his new apartment, but only after his third vodka cran when the already weak filter in his throat began to crumble and embarrassing things spewed out of his lips like a spout.

“Let’s dance, H.” Y/N requested, gently caressing his bicep from where she sat beside him.

Oh god. No amount of alcohol would let him embarrass himself like that. “I don’t really… uh—“

But Y/N was having none of that. She thrust his half empty glass in his face, eyebrows raised in a pointed look. “Come on, baby!”

He hesitated for only a moment. Her fingers were soft and warm and distracting against his arm and it was very dark in the crowded bar, but he could easily see her bright eyes and the mischief dancing around in them. Somehow, she looked just as beautiful after putting away five whiskey cokes. Ah fuck. How could he possibly say no to her?

Harry tipped the glass against his lips, downed the bitter beverage, and finally let her tug him to the middle of the room.

A few people were dancing raunchily to the loud music, and the combination of the alcohol and the darkness and Y/N’s effortless beauty gave Harry the confidence to join them. He placed his hands gingerly around her waist, nearly flinching at the warm feeling of her skin against his. Y/N flashed him a blissful, slightly drunken grin and squeezed his bicep more firmly, relaxing in his hold.

Y/N led them in a giggly dance, letting her hands wander Harry’s body and ultimately settle around his neck. Brain foggy with an alcohol induced haze, she swayed her hips against his.

Minutes turned into an hour or so and Y/N had grown quite comfortable in the circle of Harry’s arms, fronts flushed together impossibly close.

“Wanna get out of here?” Her whisper in the shell of his ear was alluring, seductive, sweet, and almost irresistible. But Harry was on a mission—one that only included seeing her again after tonight and, ultimately, making her his. Five vodka crans weren’t quite enough to outweigh his desire for something more. No, this plan didn’t include fucking her. (At least, not tonight).

“Um, I think we should…er—slow down…”

“You don’t...you don’t wanna hookup?” She looked up at him with something like disappointment (or maybe anxiety? insecurity? He wasn’t sure) in her eyes.

“No, it’s just… I—I wanted to get to know you?”

Y/N subtly stepped away from him, just an inch or so, but more than enough for him to notice and consequently panic. “Oh um, It’s okay...I just thought—well, I didn’t think we’d really be getting to know each other…”

Ouch. She obviously was not on the same page as he was with the whole I WANT TO LOVE YOU thing he had going on at the moment. The alcohol thickened his skin a little, easing the sting of her words.

“But if I’m like...not pretty enough or nice enough I—uh...” she was rambling a little—and oh god, she must be wasted if she’s questioning her beauty. Harry’s heart hurt. How could she not see that she was perfect inside and out?

“No, Y/N! You’re perfect…it’s just—“

“I get it, um...”

“I’m sorry, you don’t understand!

“I understand, Harry…I guess I’ll just—go home now.”

Well, fuck. In an effort to prolong his time with her, he’d managed to cut it short and blow his shot to see her again at all. He kicked himself for hoping. Hope for the best, expect the worst, he reminded himself. He was just fine at the hoping part, but the disappointment in the aftermath bit even deeper than his desperate loneliness.

Back to square one.

I’m going for a plant…if Y/N happens to be there then…Harry thought as he approached Main Street, then Y/N will be there. His heart skipped a beat at the thought. He tugged nervously at the sleeves of his sweater—this one white with a “my life is crap” graphic that he found quite funny—wearing another tiny hole in the fabric. He absently regretted not taking a shot or two before impulsively jogging across the block to the plant shop, but he pushed the thought out of his mind. I’m just here to get a plant.

Truthfully, he didn’t know shit about plants, but how hard could it be? Surely, all it took was a little water and a sunny spot. Optimistic, he wandered into the cute little shop. Upon entering, he found it wasn’t really indoors at all—just four walls of greenery with only a few wooden beams as a ceiling, allowing rays of mid-morning sunshine to illuminate the space quite beautifully. Harry couldn’t help but notice how one such ray shone directly on the most beautiful creature in the shop.

The scene was even more delightful than he’d imagined. She looked ethereal doing even the most mundane tasks, he thought. The way her skin glowed in the sunlight in front of a backdrop of lush greenery? Heavenly. He took a few more moments to absently admire her as she lifted a watering can above her head with skilled hands, squinting at the sun while reaching up to water a large, leafy looking plant that hung from one of the beams.

The plant was hanging just low enough to block her view of Harry, so when he gently cleared his throat to call her name, she leaped backward. A loud thud rang out and suddenly, the watering can was no longer grasped between her fingers and her pale pink apron was stained crimson—completely drenched.

“Oh my god!” they both screeched at the same time.

Harry felt the weight of the world on his shoulders as he ran over to her. “I’m so sorry angel,” he said, picking up the now leaking can from the floor. “I really didn’t mean to scare you, oh my god, are you okay?!”

She looked a mess, quite honestly. But even covered in water and sprawled out on the concrete floor, she was cute to him, like a little bud sprouting out of the pot. She looked up at him with a contemptuous stare.

“Harry!” She cried from the floor, “What are you doing?”

While he did appreciate how adorable she looked, Harry was horrified. He hadn’t known her long, but he’d never heard her stutter or seen her blush like that. Even in their brief text exchanges and one night together, she’d always seemed so confident, so effortlessly graceful and calm. “I’m so sorry love, I really didn’t mean to—“

“Why are you here?”

“I-I just...I just wanted a plant and—and… I know you love them, and I thought there wouldn’t be anywhere better to go...”

Y/N’s expression softened as he rambled. “Okay, well, feel free to look around,” She stumbled to her feet, murmuring as she went. She wiped her hands on her soaked apron, trying to clean them but actually just spreading the wetness. “And um…Let me know if you need anything.”

She pressed a tight lipped grin on and her voice went a tinge too high pitched. She was clearly putting herself in customer service mode, but Harry caught a playful glint behind her bright eyes.

Harry flushed red and turned away from her, kicking himself for being so clumsy. He craned his head around the shop, feeling hopelessly overwhelmed. He wanted to ask her for help or at least a gentle push in right direction, but he figured he’d already bothered her enough.

Even with his back to her, Y/N’s presence was distracting. He could hear her feet shuffling around softly, the light clang of the metal watering can against the counter, even the pinging sound from her phone as he wandered the store.

Harry made a few aimless circles around before particular plant caught his eye. It was a modest looking plant, no where near as big as some of the hanging vines and rubber trees that littered the store. It had large, dark green leaves with jagged looking edges and sat pretty in a terra cotta pot near the front of the store.

He decided this plant would suit his needs perfectly (what are those needs again? He asked himself, company? responsibility?). He ultimately ignored his thoughts and the fact that he wasn’t even himself clear on what he wanted and picked up the plant in both arms. He shivered upon realizing that Y/N was probably watching him the whole time as he brought the plant to the counter where she was waiting. Watching him struggle and make a fool out of himself, that is.

“Did you find everything okay?” she asked cordially.

Harry nodded stiffly, unsure what to say. “Mmhm.”

“Have you got others?” Y/N continued making conversation while punching some numbers into the cash register, smiling and avoiding his gaze.

Harry looked up at the same time she looked away from the register. He was a little startled by her question, not expecting her to actually speak to him after what he’d done earlier. “Uh, no. I just moved here, remember?”

“Oh, right—well, you know this is an alocasia?” she said it very gently, with a patient smile. He didn’t like that she was avoiding his gaze before, but now that she was staring at him unwaveringly, he felt like he was under a microscope. Heat rose is Harry’s cheeks. Did the name of the plant matter?

“Uh, yeah? I mean, uh—I had a few back in my old place…” Why Harry? Why is your first instinct to lie?

“So you know what to do with this kind of plant?’

“Um…yeah?” He stammered, speech as rushed and clumsy as the beating of his heart. His sweaty palms further confirmed the obvious—Y/N made him nervous. She wasn’t just beautiful, she was perfect. He felt desperately out of place in front of her here. How could he possibly impress her? After he’d already fucked up more than once?

“I, well—nevermind,” Y/N replied finally, shaking her head. She was still smiling, but now he felt like she was giggling to herself because she knew something he didn’t.

“Did you want to add some Miracle Potion to your purchase today?” she asked, back in customer service mode once again.

Harry did not know what the fuck Miracle Potion was, but it sounded like a rehearsed line she was required to say during every transaction. She was looking at him so pointedly though, and the brightness of her eyes was distracting. How could he say no when she was looking at him like that?

“Yeah, why not.”

And seeing her beam at him with that lovely smile was so worth the extra eight dollars.

Harry cradled his new plant—Franklin, he’d decided—in both arms, awkwardly body-slamming his apartment door to get it open without his hands. First order of business after setting Franklin down on the coffee table was to quench his thirst. He still hadn’t gone on a real grocery trip for the new place, so he’s been living off of trail mix and kombucha. Harry craved kombucha like plants craved water.

Which brought him to the second order of business: research. He sat on the couch with his trail mix, kombucha, and laptop, quickly opening up a search for “alocasia plant care”

And suddenly Y/N’s behavior made sense.

Of course, of every plant he could have chosen at random, Harry’d gone for one of the most difficult, demanding, and definitely-not-for-beginners house plants in the shop.

He had a funny feeling it wasn’t the last time his optimism would get him in trouble.

Harry was frustrated.

It’d been less than twenty four hours since he became a father, and his once green-leafed baby was already browning at the edges. He frowned, peering at Franklin’s crisp leaves as he meticulously sprayed the Miracle Potion into the soil. The once dry dirt was starting to look a little better, but—holy shit!

Harry leaped away from the table, dropping the spray and nearly knocking himself onto his ass. His eyes were wide and his heart was pounding. He felt betrayed and horrified. Y/N never mentioned that there’d be bugs crawling in the soil! But Harry could not unsee the tiny worm-ish looking guy slithering up from the depths of the pot and onto the base of Franklin’s stem.

This was a mistake. A huge mistake. Who has he kidding?

He couldn’t help himself. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, dialing the plant shop’s number without a second thought.

“Hello, you’ve reached Main Street Nursery! We’re not available right now, please leave a message and we’ll call back as soon as possible.”

“Y/N! S’Harry and, oh my god there’s a bug in Franklin! I was sprayin’ the potion stuff on the soil like ya said to but then there was a big worm thing and I dunno what to do now? I’m scared Y/N, why didn’t ya tell me there’d be bugs?! Holy shit, Franklin’s gonna die, what the fu—“

A beep interrupted his ramblings, which Harry would later be grateful for. He was always a sort of ramble-y type, but adding a pretty girl and a bug-induced panic was more than enough to make him insufferably talkative.

He begrudgingly opened the Tinder app, his only other means of communicating with her. He typed out a lengthy message with rapid fingers, explaining the bug situation in between a series of colorful emojis.

thought you knew what you were doing? Y/N’s reply came in three and a half minutes later.

harry: I lied :(

(No use in lying now).

y/n: that’s alright bub. just relax, I’ll bring you some bug stickers

Bug stickers? What the fuck? He’d already made a fool of himself, so he might as well ask, he reasoned.

harry: why would I want a bug sticker?!!

y/n: just send me your address

He did as she asked, blushing profusely at the thought of her being in his apartment. Oh shit, he realized. She’s gonna be in my apartment. Realistically, he knew she probably wouldn’t even come past the front door. She’d just give him the damn stickers and then go off to whatever better things she had to do. But if Harry has any dominant personality trait, it’s optimism.

So he quickly started to tidy the living space—careful to avoid the coffee table where Franklin and his new worm-ish adversary sat. The plant aside, it’s a cute little place that screamed an unemployed single man lives here. Once the kombucha bottles and gum wrappers are thrown out, he puts way too much effort into swiping the trail mix crumbs off the couch and carefully arranging a throw blanket across the arm of it—she won’t even be coming near the couch, Harry, chill out.

When would she be coming? She hadn’t given him a time. She’d asked for his address…did that mean she was coming immediately? Maybe she’d asked for it to come by later? Or tomorrow?—

A loud knocking at the door interrupted his thoughts.

He should have expected this. Even after only meeting twice, he should’ve known she’d barge right into his living room, skirting right past him to find Franklin. The first thing he learned about her was that she owed plants and hated people.

“Um, hello love,” he said awkwardly, trailing behind her. “Thanks for coming over.”

Y/N looked up from where she was examining the plant’s leaves as if she’d just noticed him lurking behind her (very on brand for her, Harry noted to himself). He was taken with her sudden eye contact. Her eyes had that same sparkly glow as they did in the shop—they got that way when she talked about her veganism and her cousin and her plants.

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you, mister Harry Styles. You’re a liar.” she said plainly. She was frowning at him (Is that a playful frown? He hoped so) “You’re a liar and it almost cost Franklin’s life.”

Harry was, once again, horrified. If he hadn’t proper fucked it up the first two times they met, he’d surely done it now. Y/N loved plants more than she loved breathing, and he’d almost killed one. And he lied to her! Fuck you’re such an idiot Harry...get it together.

Y/N must’ve seen his turmoil, (how could she not? He always did wear his heart on his sleeve) for she cracked a happy grin and smacked him playfully on the arm. “I’m just kidding Harry, for gods sake!”

“But...but the plant—“

“—will be fine.”

“And the...the bug?”

Y/N turned back to the plant and squinted into the soil. She put her hands on her hips over the fabric of her wide pants (Palazzo? Harry wondered absently. They were like those gypsy looking pants that looked super comfy—like, one step above pajamas...and damn where could I get some of those?)

“Is the bug on my ass, H?”

“W-what?” He replied, snapping out of his reverie with wide eyes. No! He blubbered, tearing his eyes away from the yellow fabric to her face, where her lips were pursed and her eyebrows were raised accusingly. He didn’t even mean to be staring at her ass (though it did look cute and peachy in the palazzo pants, he couldn’t help but notice now), but, feeling caught, he blushed sheepishly anyway.

She dropped the accusatory glare, replacing it with a wide smile. “Only joking,” she interrupted his ramblings. “Still reckon you were lyin’ about the bug jus’ to get me over here, though.”

Harry sighed exasperatedly, heart racing as he meandered around the couch toward the table where she was leaning. She kept him on his toes and it was as exhausting as it was enticing.

He got right up behind her and peered over her shoulder at the soil. “There!” He cried, almost having another heart attack at the sight of the little black bug. In a rushed attempt to show her the worm so she could get rid of it, he’d probably put himself way closer to her than necessary. He could feel the fabric of her long pants brushing his toes and her sharp breath hitch against his chest.

“Oh Harry,” she laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls of his apartment like beams of light. Looking away from the danger, he focused his attention on her instead. He couldn’t help but notice how her hair smelled like flowers and freshly mowed grass and ...honey? Something sweet and enticing and natural, like the earth. Like a sprawling meadow or rose garden or—

He’d been effectively distracted by her that he’d almost forgot the reason for his fear, the reason she was even here. That is, until the little bugger was out of the soil and crawling on her finger.

Harry screeched and leaped backward, and this time, he did fall on his ass. Right in front of the couch he’d cleaned for her while she giggled profusely. The gentle melody of her laughter and sweet little coos at the bug softened the sting of embarrassment—a little.

“Aw he’s so cute!” She prodded her other finger at the creature, which really was no bigger than her fingernail, but horrified Harry anyways. “Can’t believe Harry wanted me to come and kill you, sweet little thing.”

He was once again struck by how gentle and nurturing and sickened-sweet she got with plants and animals. Meanwhile she laughed at him and teased him ruthlessly for his dramatics.

“Here,” she said “Hold him.”

She thrust her finger into his hands from where she stood above him. Harry flinched away, but couldn’t move far enough from where he sat with his legs folded and feet planted on the ground. The worm fell into his palm. The tiny impact of it on his skin ignited an explosion of fear through him.

A millisecond passed and it crawled through the hole in the wrist of his sweater, causing his panic to quadruple.

He screamed out loud while Y/N continued laughing at him. “AH!” Harry screamed and flapped his wrists violently, throwing himself against the couch with wide eyes as he felt the horrible tickling of the creature crawling on his skin.

“Stop! Stop Harry, let me!” Y/N stepped closer, ducking between his outstretched legs. She shielded her face with one hand and desperately groped around for Harry’s wrist with the other. Finally, he paused to breathe and Y/N caught his arm in both of hers.

She wrestled his arm to still and calmly plucked the creature from his skin. “Thank God,” she sighed dramatically in relief, holding it on her finger between them. “The little fighter survived your temper tantrum!”

“No!” Harry cried, now shielding his own face from the wrath of the worm.

He watched her get up and drop the bug back into Franklin’s soil, all the while laughing at him.

“You’re such a baby, Harry,” she cooed as she turned back to where he was still sat on the floor, “And no wonder you’re so cold in here. You’ve got holes all in your sweater!”

“I’ve got holes in all my sweaters. My mum used to fix them f’me.” He frowned, missing her and his friends suddenly. Living alone was hard.

“You’re hopeless,” Y/N shook her head as she bent down to sit on the coffee table next to Franklin and sent him endeared smile. “I could fix them for you?”

Harry reeled back and blushed, “You—you could do that for me?”

Yes, living alone was hard and lonely and boring. Harry had been shamefully making excuses to see her for several days now, and yet he was completely oblivious to her doing the exact same thing.

“Sure! Come over tomorrow and bring all your sweaters.”

Harry saw absolutely no reason to object. He could never say no to her, anyways. “Okay, then.”

“In the meantime, take these…” She reached into her pocket and fished out four yellow squares of what looked like...tape?

“These are bug stickers,” she explained. “You tape them around Franklin’s stem and it’ll catch the gnats and aphids and stuff. Won’t kill your new little friend though.”

Despite her teasing tone and his lingering fear, Harry couldn’t help but smile at her while she demonstrated how to tape the bug sticker on. He’d deal with all the goddamn bugs in the world if it meant she’d be pleased with him.

She finished taping it on and turned back to him with an adorable little flourish, as if to say ta-da!

“Can I offer you some kombucha for your trouble?” Harry suddenly blurted.

What the fuck Harry? Who the fuck says ‘can I offer you—‘

“Ew, no!” She interrupted his self-loathing, face twisting in disgust, “Kombucha tastes like dish soap.”

Hurt, Harry reeled back again and a shocked expression graced his face, “You don’t like kombucha?! Don’t vegans like, live for that shit?!”

“This vegan has taste,” she replied with a snarky smirk. “And besides, I’ve got to get back to the shop for work like, now.”

“Oh, okay no problem.” Harry stuttered, “Thanks again.”

“Sure thing!”

And as quickly as she’d busted in, she was gone, leaving the apartment as cold and lonely as ever. Harry frowned, feeling as if he’d blown it once again. No ‘see you tomorrow’ or ‘thanks for having me.’ Chance after chance and still he made a fool out of himself. She hadn’t even told him where she lived! Maybe the offer to come over and get his sweaters fixed had been a pity invite and she actually wanted nothing to do with him ever again. The thought made his stomach churn. Where was his customary optimism when he needed it?

Grumbling, he grabbed a fresh kombucha from the fridge, wishing it was something stronger.

Franklin and his little worm friend’s (Harry didn’t think the bugger deserved a sweet name like the alocasia did—it was still a disgusting creature that made his skin crawl) company did little to satiate the aching loneliness he was feeling throughout the following day.

Finally, a message came through his phone from an unknown number.

unknown: hey harry, it’s y/n! did you still want to come over today?

harry: howd you get my number

Even through a screen, Harry managed to blurt out the first thing that popped into his head. Fuck. Shit. She’s gonna think he’s avoiding the question! He rapidly began composing a second message, but the three little dots appeared and interrupted his flying thumbs.

y/n: your message on the answering machine at work.

by the way, that was hilarious

harry: right, well. sorry for that

and yes, id love to come over.

y/n: no worries, i saved it to listen to when i need a laugh.

haha cool here’s my address

harry: should i bring food or wine or something?

A new wave of anxiety washed over him as he looked at the address she’d sent. Now what? What would they do? Would he just drop off his sweaters and leave? Or would she invite him in? What would he say then?

y/n: just bring yourself and your sweaters, mon petit!

Harry was speechless. Much like the shop she worked at, Y/N’s apartment could rival an actual jungle. Greenery of all different shapes and shades and sizes lined the walls, and while they had the exact same floor plan, it was an entirely different world than the one Harry was living in.

Y/N, meanwhile, effortlessly sauntered deeper into her space. She looked like she belonged there, obviously, but Harry felt like a fish out of water.

“They won’t bite, you know,” Y/N giggled, noticing his apprehension. She was watching him patiently with something like fondness in her eyes. Harry felt her careful gaze on him, but the magnificent green scene around him claimed his attention—but not for long.

Gently, Y/N took his fingers between hers and pulled him deeper into her space. Harry stumbled over his feet, craning his head to look at the plants hanging from the ceiling. How the hell did she even water those?

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. He looked adorable, like a child at Disneyland. She swore his eyes were actually twinkling as the greenery in the room made the color pop against his skin even more than usual.

“This is…incredible,” He said, finally turning back to meet her eyes with his own. “You’re incredible.” He set down his bag of sweaters on the floor by his feet. They could certainly wait.

Something about the praise and the way he was looking at her like she hung the moon was making Y/N absolutely swoon for the man. It was impossible not to notice how much he adored her. He looked at her the same way she looked at Delilah, at all the things she loved. Things. She wasn’t sure she’d ever actually loved a person before. But this man with the holes in his sweaters and the permanent flush in his cheeks was planting himself deep in her heart.

But she’d never let him see that.

“…I make lots of my clothes myself…” She was talking about how she learned to sew from where she was sitting on her couch. Harry noticed that she’d arranged her living room differently than he had. While he had a single gray couch in the middle of the room, her sofa was against the window, inviting the evening sunset to gently warm the pale pink cushions.

“Did ya make those pants you were wearing the other day?” He asked with genuine curiosity, continuing to poke around the plants and knitted blankets and woven fruit baskets that littered the entire space.

Harry turned to face her just in time to catch her flashing a knowing smile. “Yes. Should I make a pair for you as well?”

“Yes, please.”

“I’m sure your ass will look great in them, too.”

“Ah—shut up!” Harry laughed, fiddling with the leaves of one of her hanging plants. He recognized this one.

An easy smile still graced his lips as he murmured “It’s a philodendron,” half to her and half to himself. Now that some of the extensive plant research he’d been doing over the past few days had indeed stuck, it was easy for him to identify by its telltale heart shaped leaves.

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up, “That’s right,” she said, sounding impressed. “She’s called Delilah.”

Harry hummed, unable to focus on words when she was giving him her full attention like that.

“She’d be cute next to Franklin, don’t ya think?” She continued, tiptoeing closer to him. She stood behind him, peering over his shoulder at the plant much like she’d done to Franklin a few days earlier. The fabric of his brown sweater was soft against her fingers as she wrapped her arms around him. Harry tensed. He had longed to do the same thing to her when their positions had been reversed a few days ago, but chickened out. But as always, Y/N’s actions were confident and smooth. The thought of her face against his knit-clad back and the feeling of her soft hands around his middle made his head spin.

Yes, he thought, she’s cute next to everything. She’s fucking adorable…

And again, Harry was struck with the thought that he should have seen this coming. It was such a Y/N move—the way she confidently pressed on his shoulders to sit him on the couch and proceeded to smoothly kneel over his thighs. His heart raced as she sank to his eye level, straddling his lap.

“You’ve got pretty eyes,” Harry said almost absently, as if lost in them. Y/N looked kind of surprised that the words came out of his mouth. She’s sort of confused by him, by the way he makes her feel. He had this nervous, chaotic energy surrounding him, as if his mind was going a mile a minute at all times. It didn’t make any difference to him though—a racing heart didn’t stop him from enjoying the feeling of the insides of her thighs against his.

Y/N suddenly grabbed one of his flushed cheeks in her palm and turned his face to hers, letting him get a good look at her eyes. “Think so?” She grinned with a hint of her customary cockiness.

Harry nodded in response to the playful question, caught up in her smirk. He reckoned it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Once again, she proved him wrong when she licked her lip. She studied him seductively while his own eyes, of course, flicked down to where her tongue was swiping over her lips. Her tongue was pillowy, gentle, and…distracting…In the next instant, she’d pulled his face to hers and met his lips with her own.

Despite having been mentally begging for her to kiss him since the moment they’d met, he was still a little caught off guard. Quickly, he began to relish in the feeling of her warm hand holding his cheek and soft lips pressing tenderly on his. He kissed her back gently, but with urgency—as if he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He let his hands wander slowly from her knees up her thighs, her hips, settling comfortably on her waist. His heart skipped a beat when she pulled back a millimeter.

“Is this okay?” Harry let out a concerned whisper.

Y/N smiled effortlessly and nodded. Of course it was okay, it was better than okay.

“Thought I’d proper fucked up my chance with you ages ago,” he murmured against her lips. Now that he’d gotten a taste of her sweet lips, he was truly a fucking goner.

“I thought so too, frankly,” she laughed fondly at him, “But you reeled me in with your charm and wit...” She shook her head and furrowed her brows sarcastically, “...Your true gift for horticulture, your brilliant sewing skills, your excellent taste in beverages...” she continued lecturing him in between sweet pecks on the lips.

Harry giggled at her mock-compliments, tugging her impossibly closer by the waist. She relaxed her chest into his and easily wrapped her own arms around his neck.

“You’re an absolute pest you know?” Harry teased her, confidence growing as she caressed his skin, “I oughta get a buncha those damn bug stickers to catch you!”

“You sure about that?” She smiled bigger, eyes wide and innocent as sat back on his legs. She continued to feed him sweet words as she trailed her fingers down his sweater, the mock compliments melting into sincere ones. Harry’s own smile grew as she mumbled how she adored his soft hands and blushy cheeks and gentle disposition…

Her words were innocent, but her fingers began tracking a sinful course downward, and he twitched in his sweatpants as she cheekily palmed him through the fabric. He was putty in her hands, reduced to a pile of mush by her eyes that twinkled with playful innocence and mischief and unmistakeable lust. The soft hands and gentle, innocent praises falling from her lips were making his cock bloat and head spin. Just as he was getting into it—moaning and whimpering for her to please don’t stop…she shoved her arms between his body and the couch cushion and delivered a firm squeeze to his ass.

“That’s for calling me a pest, you pest!”

She roared with laughter and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight to her chest.

Harry’s desperate, high pitched whine quickly melted into joyous laughter. He couldn’t help it—she was so lovely and beautiful and playful and cheeky and of course, he should’ve seen a stunt like this coming. She was a pest indeed, but Harry had already decided to love her. Perhaps decided wasn’t the word—no, his love for her sprouted and grew like a strong and beautiful vine holding them together.

“Now how about I make you come for real and then fix the holes in those sweaters like you fixed the holes in my heart?”

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

thank you for reading <3

talk to me about harry and y/n and franklin and delilah!

#harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #my writing #alo

507 notes · View notes

genesisrose74 · 3 years

Text

Christmas With the Karasuno Boys (HC’s)!!

Part 2: Kageyama, Hinata, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Kinoshita, & Narita

Part 1 (Daichi, Suga, Asahi, Nishinoya, Tanaka, & Ennoshita) here!

A/n: Tumblr said my word count was too much so I’m splitting this bad boi up into two parts :p Enjoy!!

*****

Kageyama

This boy has a secret soft side for Christmas istg

He HATES showing it to other people on his team and shit

But holy bejeezus he is mesmerized by the holiday in every way possible

Lights, sweets, snow, just like,,, the general magic of December is the most awe-inspiring thing to him

Since he is still a sporty and pretty active mofo, you decided to fuel that on your holiday-themed date as Kags had noted that he’d never gone sledding before

Your jaw was on the FLOOR when he first told you because he would 10000% enjoy the hell out of it

And so you dragged him out to this popular sledding hill that you frequented as a child and taught him what to do

Not gonna lie, he was kind of nervous

“Well you’re experienced at it. I don’t wanna mess up”

🥺🥺🥺 bubby

“You won’t, Tobio! I can already tell you’re gonna be a sledding pro”

Feels a little better after that, but he asks you to help him out for his first run down the hill

He sits behind you with his arms secured snugly around your waist and his head nestled on top of your shoulder

Which would probably seem really funny to passerby because this boy is tol and intimidating in most other situations

As soon as the sled started down, Kags tightened his grip and made this cute little yelp of surprise

But you were laughing insanely hard at the combination of going really fast downhill whilst also having your boyfriend cling to you for dear life

And then when the sled stopped safely at the bottom he started to chuckle

FULL ON, GENUINE SOUND OF ENJOYMENT

That shit is rare

Y’all stayed at that hill for half the day because it was so fun

You got him a new, very high quality athletic roller for Christmas because his old one was just not cutting it anymore

And you also gave him this really cute bracelet with a volleyball, his jersey number, and a little strawberry milk set of charms attached to it

It matched this really pretty and subtle chain he’d bought for your birthday

His blueberry eyes got all wide with affection dfjdskfjsdk—

Got super blushy and couldn’t get a handle on his speech for a fat minute

He thinks you’re the coolest person ever no I do not take criticism

Geez you’re both adorable together, ideal “stoic boy becomes warmer during the holidays around his love” movie plot and I love it

Hinata

He is all in on Christmas. Not a chance this boy doesn’t get excited as hell

Will openly go into holiday mode as soon as November is over

Was secretly already listening to his Christmas playlist before then

He is one of the sweetest gift givers, that is FACTUAL

If you want something really badly, he will take notice and get it as your present immediately

He’ll also gift you an extra thing that’s handmade 🥺

Like some pastries that his mom helped him make, or a specially made basket of soaps with your favorite scents in it

It’s absolutely adorable and you cherish those ones especially

Is happy if you simply get him something; mans doesn’t care what it is

New practice volleyball? A brand new sweatshirt? Elated either way

You had seen an advertisement for a friendly match between Japan and Poland’s men’s volleyball teams, so you waited online on the ticket sales website until the minute it opened

Spoiler alert: you got some banger seats 😌✨

Shoyo may or may not have tackled you when he read the ticket details, letting out his excited giggle (you know the one)

“I can’t believe you got these, angel! You’re coming with me, right? You’ve gotta! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Gives you sweet little kisses between each individual ‘thank you’

“Of course I’ll go with you, Sho! I’m really glad you like it!”

He will give you the brightest smile of all time — that shit makes Christmas lights pale in comparison

“Have I told you how much I love you?”

RIGHT BACK AT YOU BBY

Hold his hands to warm up together when temperatures drop pls :)))

It’s become a weekly December tradition to watch a Christmas movie with Natsu at the Hinata household

She’ll sit in your lap while the three of you are cuddled under a blanket together, and Shoyo will lace his fingers with yours all discreetly

In conclusion, I am a sucker for holiday Hinata 🥺🥺🥺

Tsukishima

His room is decorated to the very minimum simply because his mom and brother had insisted on him being festive

You know those holiday instrumentals that are really calming and jazzy and stuff? Yeah, that’s the only Christmas music he will tolerate in his house

While he’s still got his usual icy demeanor, this blond bitch does get slightly less snippy with the Karasuno boys

Is always on the nose with getting you the exact thing you wanted for a present

Like,,, TO THE SMALLEST DETAIL

You don’t even have to bring that shit up beforehand, he just KNOWS

“Tsukki, how did you—?”

“It’s pretty obvious, with the way that one ad kept showing up on your phone.”

b r u h

How does he pay such good attention without even letting on??

As for his own present, you’ll usually get him two: one gag gift and one more serious gift

His dino plush collection size is partly due to the former’s contributions this time of year

Yes the dinos have names

You exchanged gifts on Christmas Eve with all the team (you made him go) and he saved your more serious one for last

It was a scarf that you’d gotten custom made, which had a Spotify code knitted into the fabric

Scanning the code opened the app to a playlist you’d created especially for him

He got pretty quiet when figuring it out and scrolling through the playlist

Would let out a certified Tsukki Nose Exhale™ when he came across certain songs

The more subdued reaction was expected because it’s Tsukishima

His little chuckles and warmer eyes were enough of a giveaway to tell you he very much enjoyed your gift

But on the walk home, he took the scarf and wrapped it around you both, and then brought his arm around your waist

“Thank you.”

You deadass almost combusted because it was so unexpected??

“You’re welcome. Merry Christmas, Kei”

Way to respond calm and collected 😌👍

But on the inside your body was in freak out mode

He wears the scarf all the time jdfsklfjdsk

Yamaguchi

Take the most tooth rotting fluff you could imagine

And then double that and put a fucking cherry on top

That’s the equivalent of what Christmas is like with Yama Yama

Y’all are like kids in a candy store — literally

For your Christmas dates it’s all about sweets and shared giggles, so frequent trips to the candy and baking isles of the grocery store is a must

Making gingerbread houses, peppermint tasting (mostly trying those different and wild ass candy cane flavors), you name it and it’s there

Stomach aches? I don’t know her

Yeah you do but they go away with enough butterfly kisses 🥰

Tadashi is exceptionally good at decorating gingerbread houses for whatever reason

He put a poll on his instagram between yours and his final products and he won by a landslide

It’s not like yours was necessarily bad, more like he’s just an icing master

You also might have eaten too many gumdrops which left your rooftop lacking in ✨spice✨

But it’s okay because Tadashi donated some of his leftovers to you

He’s such a sweetheart uwu

Please for the love of everything get him something heartfelt as his present

You know those long distance bracelets for couples?

Basically if your s/o taps the icon on the bracelet it’ll send a little vibration to the other person’s as a notice that you’re thinking about them

This boy seeks constant reassurance, and you love to give him his deserved love and validation, so it was the perfect present

It takes a second for him to figure out what it is, but after reading the directions and testing it out, the most adorable smile erupted on his face

And then since you already had yours on, he tapped the little icon again with a giggle

“Hey there”

It becomes common habit to tap it at least once every couple hours

GOD HE IS SO CUTE

He is just so soft this time of year, give him all the love and he will return it tenfold ☺️

Kinoshita

This boy is absolutely an awkward cutie and an avid romantic

Give him the cliches and he will eat em up, no doubt

It naturally gets more apparent around the holidays

He’ll take you on pretty winter walks, give you lots of little gifts (while blushing a hell of a lot), and is just a professional at stumbling upon some mistletoe

Wow wonder how it got there, Hisashi

He’s quite a bit more confident when simply alone with you than in a crowded space

And that definitely shows when he takes you out on a secluded sleigh ride around town

Yeah you heard me

A fuckin’ sleigh ride

Horses and blankets and everything

Don’t even ask how he managed to pull it off, because he loves watching the cogs turn in your head and simply will not give you a straight answer

Of course there’s the nice driver guy who’s there, but in the back alone Kinoshita’s confidence goes 📈📈

Lots of flirting, tons of skimmed touches and shared giggles throughout the ride

I legitimately simp really hard for him

Anyways it was a gorgeous ride through town and super fun

On Christmas Eve you both exchange gifts together and tbh whatever you got him will leave him happy and flustered regardless

But when he opens the wrapping paper to find an entire set of vintage VHS tapes, he’s stunned

He owns a VHS (actually canon!) and honestly loves it to death, and the fact that you’d get him tapes of pretty high quality for his collection meant a lot

Gosh he’s so underrated but a definite sweetheart, give him all the holiday love

Narita

Another underrated bby 🥺

He’s so chill and is pretty open to anything during the holidays, so long as he gets to spend ample time with you, his friends, and his family

Definitely more of an indoor person despite being accepting of most situations

Hence why you thought a cute little indoor winter picnic would be right up his alley

Which it absolutely was 😌✨ nice work

You’d made plans while in secret communications with his family members about the whole thing

He’d been pretty stressed lately with trying to handle his schoolwork, while also helping out others with theirs

Despite being a wonderful tutor, it was clearly becoming a bit overwhelming as he tried to grapple with so much at once

So when he came home one day to find a pristine house with you settled on a blanket in his living room, he was quite surprised

There’s a cheese plate, soda cans in a cute ice box, sandwiches, snacks, a presparked fireplace — you and his family went all out

Really adorable I cannot lie

“I thought you said you were going gift shopping today?”

“I might have maybe lied :P”

So he gives the sweetest little smile and sits across from you

Y’all stay there and talk for hours

After finally getting through everything previously laid out on the blanket spread, you slid him a little rectangular box that he looked at curiously

“Already? I haven’t wrapped yours yet!”

“Mine can wait a bit! Just open yours”

And so he does, and you watch with a face-splitting grin as he looks down in awe

You got tickets to see his favorite rock band in concert while they were on tour

He sprung onto you and pulled you into the tightest hug ever

“Holy shit you’re the best I love you so much how do you get even more loveable every day—!?!l”

It’s a jumble of words but you’re able to put it together and it makes you giggle

He deadass sprints upstairs to go get your gift and make sure that you feel as equally appreciated as he does

In simple words: wholesome holiday sweetness 🥰

146 notes · View notes

writeyouin · 4 years

Text

Hank Anderson X Reader - One Night Stand - Commission

Hey, @petitelepus, thank you very much for commissioning me. I hope this is how you imagined it, and if there is anything you want changing, just message me and I will fix it til you find it perfect.

Commission request: Okay, how about Hank Anderson from Detroit Become Human with a notably younger woman. Like, he wakes up after a night filled with alcohol and finds Reader in his bed at morning. He thinks he took an android home with him because who young woman in their right sense of mind would go back to old man's like his place? Hilarity ensues when he tries to get rid of his one night mistake, but Reader shows genuine affection and attraction towards the older man. Maybe put Connor there somewhere too?

Warnings - None.

Rating - T

Word Count - 1306

Hank groaned and rolled over onto his side, reaching to pull the covers over his head, as if that might mask the headache he had from the previous night’s drinking. Yet, instead of finding the quilt, his calloused hand brushed over noticeably softer skin. Groggily, he opened his eyes, finding himself opposite your sleeping form, half-spooning him.

He stared long and hard at you, trying to recall the events of the previous night, or even the last time he had come home with a one-night stand. Occasionally in his youth, he would strike lucky, but that hadn’t happened in years. He was a grumpy, old bastard, who had little charm, especially when drunk, so how had it come to pass that you were now in his bed? You were pretty enough to be an android; shit, had he paid for your services? It would make sense, after all, nobody young and good-looking would want to spend the night with an old fart like him. Then again, androids didn’t sleep, and Hank couldn’t see an LED, but it was possible that you were mimicking sleep as some androids did, and that you had removed your LED if that was the case.

Gingerly, Hank lifted your arm, removing it from his chest, so he could sneak out of bed. He looked down, finding a state of undress that only irked him further. Upon pulling on boxers and a shirt, he made his way to the kitchen, trying to keep every movement silent as he made a pot of coffee and tried to come up with a game-plan. He could just wake you and tell you to leave, no matter how harsh it was, but that could lead to you actually trying to talk to him, and he didn’t want that; he didn’t want anything to do with you. Maybe it would be better for him to leave the house and hope that you would take the hint to go back to wherever it was you came from, but then what if you stayed anyway? Hank tried to think of any other options that might help him, but if he couldn’t leave and didn’t want to stay, what else was there? He sat down at the breakfast table to think.

“Morning,” Connor beamed, coming back home from his morning walk with Sumo.

“Fuck,” Hank groaned, having hoped Connor wouldn’t have been home till much later so he could get rid of you without Connor finding out; the android knew a lot more about sarcasm now, and would undoubtedly mock Hank until his dying days if he found out about you.

“Someone’s grumpy,” Connor grinned, removing Sumo’s leash and letting the Saint Bernard roam free.

“Connor, do me a favour and get the hell out. I have something to take care of.”

“I would have thought you’d be happy, considering you got lucky last night.”

“Shit, you fuckin’ knew?”

“About (Y/N), yes. I met her last night when you were sleeping. She went to the bathroom and saw me in the hallway. We then had a nice chat before she went back to bed with you. She’s a real catch.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Hank retorted half-heartedly, hating the shit-eating grin Connor now wore.

Connor was about to make a rebuttal, but the sound of the bedroom door creaking open drew both men’s attention.

“Morning,” You said chipperly, coming out in one of Hank’s old shirts and the jeans that you had arrived in. “Connor, Hank.”

Hank grumbled, feeling bad that he didn’t remember the previous night, when you clearly seemed happy about whatever had gone on; he was still trying to deduce whether he had paid for your time or not, but now that you were awake, it seemed rude to ask. Despite that, Hank was about to ask if you needed a ride home as a way to get rid of you, when you kissed his cheek and sat down next to him at the kitchen table. He froze, memories of his ex-wife surfacing; she used to do that in the early days before things turned sour.

“Would you like some breakfast, (Y/N)?” Connor asked, trying to keep you there as long as possible for his own enjoyment.

“NO!” Hank growled, forgetting himself momentarily. “Uh, I mean- Connor is a lousy cook. Burns everything he touches.”

“Oh,” You noted, “That’s too bad. Then I suppose it’s up to me to make breakfast. You like pancakes?”

“N-”

“He sure does,” Connor interrupted, moving over to the cupboards. “Here, I’ll get the ingredients for you.”

As Connor worked, pulling out various utensils, he began asking you questions about you, trying to get Hank to like you just for the fun of it.

“So, (Y/N), how did you and Hank meet?”

“Oh it was really sweet. We were at a bar last night and some guy pinched my ass, and I was about to yell at him, but then Hank came over to defend my honour. It was so romantic. After that, we spent the night talking and well, here we are now, right sweetie?”

“…Right,” Hank answered non-committedly, trying to jog his own memory. Did he really do that? Why couldn’t he have minded his own business?

“Really?” Connor said enthusiastically. “That’s just like Hank. Did you know he’s works at the DPD? He’s always there to protect the citizens of Detroit and-”

“Connor, bedroom, now,” Hank glowered at Connor, who only smiled at you and excused himself, closely followed by Hank.

“What the hell are you playing at?” Hank hissed, once the door was closed and they were out of earshot.

“I was only-”

“Argh, I don’t care. Either help me get rid of her, or get the fuck outta here. You hear me?”

Rolling his eyes and sighing dramatically, Connor left the room, making his excuses to you before the house to go on yet another walk with Sumo.

“Bye Con,” You waved casually. “See you later. Well, I guess it’s just the two of us.”

Hank rubbed his beard awkwardly, dragging his hand down his face “Yeah about us…Listen, I’ve gotta be honest here. I don’t really remember anything about last night.”

Your face fell, “Oh…”

“And you seem like a nice girl, but uh- You’ve got a lot of life to live and you don’t want to go wasting it on a grumpy old fart like me, with a rough job and a heavy drinking problem.”

“Have you picked up women before?”

“What?” Hank asked, your question throwing him.

“Like, do you do this all the time?”

“No. Honestly, I haven’t done anything like this in a long time.”

“Then it’s fate,” You exclaimed happily.

“What?”

“You said it yourself. You don’t normally do this. So, whatever happens Hank Anderson, I am going to recreate the spark we had last night, until you learn that I’m the one for you. Besides, you’re a charming, handsome silver fox. Why would I ever give that up?”

You wrapped your hands around Hank’s waist and pecked his cheek again, while he stood dumbfounded.

Hank watched you with a frown as you went back to mixing the pancake batter, all the while wondering just what the hell he had said the previous night that had earned your affection.

At noon that day, Connor came back somewhat glumly, prepared for the fact that you would be gone and that Hank was willing to give up on finding love again. He had genuinely liked you, after finding that you truly did have feelings for Hank. However, when he got back in, he found you at the table with Hank in an avid conversation about old music.

Hank took in Connor’s flummoxed expression, and answered it with an equally perplexing statement, “(Y/N)’s staying for dinner.”

“No kidding,” Connor chuckled. “Welcome to the Anderson’s, (Y/N).”

#hank anderson #Connor #hank anderson x reader #commission #detroit become human #detroit #Detroit: BH #DBH #sumo #reader #reader insert #fanfiction #fanfic

367 notes · View notes

a-bang-for-your-bucky · 3 years

Text

Welcome Home (Part One)

(NOT MY GIF)

Summary: After not speaking to her brothers for over a year, Peyton Rhodes’ life is turned upside down when her boyfriend of four years cheats on her. She uproots her life with WWE and returns home to Atlanta. She finds herself among great friends and she is finding herself again after being lost for so long.

WORD COUNT: 2,624 (well shit).

Pairings: Cody Rhodes x OFC (Sister), Brandi Rhodes x OFC (sister), Dustin Rhodes x OFC (Sister), past Seth Rollins x OFC, future Kenny Omega x OFC (maybe?), MJFx OFC( maybe?) Could end up being Matt Jackson x OFC (who knows) let the writing gods surprise us.

WARNINGS: explicit language, mentioned cheating, possible future smut (Warnings are subject to change as I continue writing and will be updated as needed).

A/N: This has been a WIP for over a year now. This will be multiple parts. It will be a slow burn. (MAYBE) I’m a sucker for the friends to lovers trope. Please do not think that this reflects my feels toward a certain wrestler (Seth). This story is strictly fiction. I do not own any of the characters except for my OFC(s). Please, please, please, give me feedback. I’m slowly working myself back into the fanfic world. <3

“Cody was right.” I cried as soon as my brother’s wife answered the phone. I hadn’t spoken to my brothers since they left WWE. Cody was upset that I wouldn’t leave with him. Brandi was my way of communication with them. She’d call at least twice a week. This week was different.

“I caught him. I went to congratulate him after his win over Finn and they were,” I sniffled, hurt coming over me again. “It was Mandy. I thought she was my friend.” I explained to my sister in law.

“Pey, I am so sorry. Please come home. You know AEW has a spot for you whenever you want it.” Brandi offered. It was the same thing she said to me every week, but now I’m ready.

“I just don’t know why.” I cried. “I was the perfect girlfriend. I basically put my career on hold for him. I thought he was, I thought he was it for me.” Brandi had said that they were going to be home for Cody’s birthday in a few weeks and invited me to come to the party.

“I’ll talk to Hunter.” I choked out.

Luckily, my contract was almost up and as soon as Vince heard I didn’t want to re-sign, he settled for my release. We didn’t have the best relationship, but Hunter advocated for me stating that it was best for the company as well as myself. He knew the situation and didn’t blame me for wanting to go.

I knew I had to go back one day. I just never thought it would be this soon. I parked my car in the drive. I could hear Pharaoh announcing my arrival before I could make it to the door. I made my way up the sidewalk to the porch. I took a deep breath and knocked.

Brandi opened the door immediately. “Well I'll be damned.” She said, “I can’t believe you came!” I smiled, embracing my brother’s wife.

“Like I would miss my big brother’s 35th birthday.” I lied and she knew it. If Seth hadn’t cheated on me, I wouldn’t be here.

Brandi led me inside where there were some guests who had gathered in the foyer. Brandi introduced me quickly, leading me through to Cody. “Hey, babe. Your surprise is here.” Cody, who was standing by the fireplace, talking to Dustin, turned and saw me.

Awkwardly, I raised a hand to wave. “Hi.” I whispered. Cody sat down his drink and walked over to me. I expected him to cuss and yell, but instead, he threw his arms around me, hugging me tightly.

“Peyton, I'm so happy you’re here.” He whispered. Dustin came up behind him.

“Long time, no see sis. You know, they invented this thing called a phone. You should look into it. Call your big brothers sometime.” Dustin fussed before hugging me too.

“It is really good to see you guys.” I tried to hold back the tears, but some escaped anyway. “How have you been? AEW has really taken off huh?” I said making small talk.

Cody nodded, “Yeah, I have the best business partners. I can’t wait for you to meet them.” Looking at my brother, he was truly happy. WWE had given him a few more stress lines, but seeing him now, you couldn’t tell.

He grabbed my hand, pulling me to follow him. He led me to Matt and Nick Jackson, standing with Kenny Omega and Adam Page. “Guys! Guys! Look who decided to show her face.” Cody beamed, smiling big. The four guys waved.

“Finally! We get to meet the prodigal sister.” Kenny Omega spoke first.

“Peyton, these are the guys.” Cody pointed to each of them. “Matt. Nick. Kenny. Adam.”

“Nice to meet y’all finally. I watch your show every week. You are all very talented.” They all mumbled a “thank you” in tandem.

The rest of the evening went by smoothly. We all sat and talked. Getting to know The Elite was amazing. It was almost as if I hadn’t been AWOL for a year and a half. When the party was over, I was helping Brandi clean up.

“Pey, you don’t have to help. You’re a guest.” She said, grabbing the glasses from my hands. I shook my head.

“I’m family. And family helps.” I smiled, taking the glasses back and continued to the kitchen. Cody walked in behind me with plates.

“Hey,” he started, “Thank you for coming.” He finished, placing the plates in the dishwasher. I added my glasses.

“I’m sorry.” I blurted out, turning to face him. Cody looked at me, confused. “I should have left with you. You were right about that place. My career, my relationship, everything, became a shitshow after you left.” tears began to fall.

“Pey, it’s okay. I’m just happy you’re here now.” Cody wiped the tears away.

“Code. I lost my title. Seth cheated on me, and I barely got any TV time.” Cody scoffed. He never liked Seth.

“He cheated on you?” Cody growled, and paced around the room.

I nodded, “I caught him. I went to congratulate him after his win one night and they were,” I sniffled, explaining to Cody. “I don’t know why.” I cried. “And then I lost my title, and then stopped getting TV time, unless I was on Seth’s arm.” I darted my eyes to the ground. “We still had to work together. After everything, I had to pretend like we were the perfect couple, until my last appearance.” Cody pulled me into a tight hug.

“I pissed a lot of people off with the way I left. I’m so sorry that affected you.” he whispered into my hair, like it was his fault.

“I don’t blame you, Code. I was granted my release.” I mumbled into his chest. He pulled back.

“What?” His eyes were wide.

“I asked for my release and Hunter pushed it through. I’ll be a free agent in 90 days” I explained. Cody smiled like a Cheshire cat.

“Babe! Dustin! Get in here!” Cody yelled, startling me. The both of them came running, looking for an emergency, but they only saw Cody pouring champagne for a toast. Confused looks covered their faces.

Cody gave everyone a flute and started a toast. “To our baby sister, the newest AEW superstar.” Brandi squealed and hugged me tight. The guys joined in.

I was finally home.

It was hard, walking away from my life in WWE; However, finding my place within the Elite was easy. Especially with Kenny Omega. He quickly became one of my closest friends. The next 3 months were the best of my life. The break from wrestling gave my body and my heart time to heal. Everyone did their best to hide that I was coming to AEW, even leaving fake trails that I was going back to NJPW.

After working out the details of my contract, I was officially signed with AEW. Cody wanted me to make a surprise entrance, interrupt one of his segments. Creative loved the idea of brother and sister reuniting, but they wanted to make it interesting. When my debut date came, I couldn’t have been any more nervous.

Sitting in catering, I was alone, lost in thought, picking at my food. It had been a long journey here, but they made it. AEW came to life and it was thriving. Double or nothing had passed, and that meant tonight was Dynamite.

“Guess who?” Someone had snuck up on me, covering my eyes. I smiled because I knew exactly who it was.

“Hmm, Prince Charming?” I guessed quickly. Kenny placed a sloppy kiss to my cheek.

“Close, but better.” He said uncovering my eyes. “Hey, princess. Just thought I’d come save you from your thoughts. What’s going on in that head of yours right now?” he asked, knowing I’ll tell him, taking the seat next to me.

I sighed, rubbing my face. “I was thinking about my journey, how I got here.” Kenny nodded, but didn’t say anything. “I was thinking about how I get to see Jon again, since leaving WWE, and I was thinking about Seth.” I finally spit it out. Seth, his name leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

“I knew something was bothering you. Talk to me, doll.”

“I was scrolling through Insta earlier. He’s engaged. I know I shouldn’t care, but I do. Not because I still have feelings for him, but because she is, was, my friend, and I don’t want him to do to her what he did to me.” I explained to him.

“That’s understandable, Pey, but people gotta make their own mistakes. Mandy knows what he did to you and she still said yes, so that’s on her.” Kenny said, ever the voice of reason.

I nodded in agreement with him, knowing he was right. I needed to focus on my new path, my new future.

“Peyton!” Cody called from a distance, Brandi following him. It was time.

Cody stood, center ring, proudly. He had won the TNT title at Double or Nothing. He went on about how he was issuing an open challenge every Wednesday.

I stood nervously behind the curtain, waiting for my cue. I was about to make my debut. My life has been a little crazy since I left WWE behind, but definitely for the better.

As an avid Fall Out Boy fan, I had struck a deal to have my favorite song as my entrance music. I had been using it for most of my career. The music hit, the crowd went crazy. “Holy Hell, that music can only mean one person. The sister of the American Nightmare. That’s Peyton Rhodes!” JR yelled into his mic as I strolled down the ramp, ignoring the crowd. “Peyton” chants filled the arena as I made my way to the squared circle.

“Peyton Rhodes has joined AEW and the crowd couldn’t be happier,” Excalibur added. I walked around the ring to the time keeper, grabbing a mic from Justin, and strolled on toward the ring.

The music cut, and Cody was first to speak. "Oh yeah. I guess we didn't announce this but Peyton Rhodes is AEW!" The crowd screamed at Cody's news, chanting "AEW".

I soaked in the cheers because I knew it was all about to change. I had been a face for most of my pro-wrestling career, and now I finally get to pursue the heel turn my fans had been begging for. I took in a deep breath and adjusted my leather jacket.

“Oh, Atlanta, shut the hell up!” I groaned into the mic. I revelled in the audible gasp that could be heard. “That’s right. No more sweet ‘Georgia peach’ Peyton Rhodes. I came to AEW to raise hell, and that’s what I’m going to do.” I wandered around the ring, stopping in front of a camera. “I’m sick and tired of wanting your approval. I’m here to get what I want. And I want it all.” I punctuated as I looked dead into the camera.

“Hear that big brother,” I turned and faced Cody, “Hell just arrived in AEW I hope you’re ready.” I gestured to the crowd, “I hope you’re all ready, because if you thought Cody was a nightmare, wait til you see me, the Dream Killer.” I dropped the mic, and rolled out of the ring. The crowd loved it. “Dream Killer” chants echoed in my ears all the way backstage.

I was greeted by Dustin, Brandi, and Kenny. “That was perfect, Pey, they loved it.” Kenny said as soon as I was in sight. I grinned, running up to him, jumping into his arms for a hug.

“The crowd loved you. They’ve been hoping for this heel turn since your WWE debut.” Cody said, smiling from ear to ear as he returned to the back after finishing his promo.

“For real, Pey! You pull off the ‘heel’ thing. I can’t wait to work on your wardrobe!” Brandi squealed, embracing me in a dancing hug. “Just think about the shoes, Pey, the shoes.” Brandi was way more excited about the outfits than the actual turn. She had helped me pick the one I was wearing. Black jean shorts, a front-zip black and white crop top, leather jacket, and black boots.

“I can’t wait to see where this takes me.” I said before we were joined by the rest of The Elite.

Nick was the first to speak. “Not bad, Rhodes. You might be a better heel than your brother here.” He elbowed Cody in the ribs.

Matt nodded in agreement, “For real Peyton, the crowd was so hyped for that turn.” He said with a soft smile, bringing me in for a quick hug.

I turned to face everyone. “Thanks guys. All of you. You gave me this chance.” I thanked them, “I promise I won’t let you down.”

“You’re a great addition to the AEW family.” Adam complimented, “Come on Ken, we got a match to get ready for.” he said before walking away. Kenny gave me one last hug before following him.

Cody and Brandi also parted as she had a segment coming up, leaving me with the Young Bucks. “Come on, Pey, lets celebrate!” We had walked back to catering where some more of the AEW stars were waiting. In the back, I spotted the one person I couldn’t wait to see again. I told The Bucks I’d catch up with them.

“Jon!” I screamed, almost running to him. When he saw me rushing toward him, he opened his arms, inviting me in for a hug. Hugging him was a blast from the past.

“Peyton fucking Rhodes. I heard rumors you were coming. Sweetheart, you knocked them dead.” He spoke into my hair. I gave him one more tight squeeze before pulling away. “Well, you look great.” He said, gesturing to my outfit.

“I’m heel now. Finally.” I boasted. I’ve been waiting for this for the longest time and no one was taking it away from me. Jon and I talked, catching up. I asked about Renee and he lit up. He was happy and that’s all I wanted for him. He was finally able to be the fighting champion everyone knew he could be.

“What about Seth? What happened? The last time I spoke to him, he said you guys were happy and he had bought a ring.” Jon asked, and it knocked the breath out of me. I knew he would ask, but I wasn’t expecting him to mention a ring.

“He cheated on me. With Mandy. They’re engaged now.” I said without choking up, which was a good sign. I could see the disappointment well up in Jon’s eyes.

“You were always too good for him.” I knew he and Seth were still good friends, but I appreciated the words nonetheless. Jon gave me one last hug before he got called away for his match, leaving me alone in catering again.

I found a table close to a TV so I could watch the end of Kenny and Adam’s match. They were well on their way to becoming tag team champions. I started thinking about what Jon had said about Seth, about him buying a ring. I couldn’t believe it. He was going to ask me to marry him and I would have said yes, had I not found him with Mandy. I was pulled from my thoughts by my phone vibrating. It was Seth.

I saw your debut.

You look good.

You’re gonna be a great heel.

I miss you.

I wish you would talk to me and let me explain.

I read and reread the messages a hundred times before replying.

Okay, Seth. When and where?

125 notes · View notes

nightowlfandom · 3 years

Text

Yandere! Jeon Jungkook- You’re My Prey

Why Hello there! ANON ASKS

Greetings! I hope all is well with you! Could I please request a smutty angsty predator Jungkook x Prey Reader with sprinkle fluff at the end? like jk is the readers bully and realizes that he likes her but she avoids him like covid lmao. so he protects her from someone or something and she starts to trust him? oml that sounds like a lot🤣🤣 U are an amazing writer!!

BRUH YOU HAD ME AT ‘AVOIDS HIM LIKE COVID LOL’

Sooooo I didn’t touch on the smut part, and I’m very sorry! Tbh I was a bit overwhelmed writing this one and I kept getting stressed because I hated every draft I made before the final draft.

So this contains a bit of sensitive material, proceed with caution

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Leggo!

...

You sat in front of the vanity as your mom styled your hair. She hummed as he took your strands in her hands.

“I saw this style in an issue of Vogue...I know you’ll love it.” she commented.

Tonight was perhaps the biggest event of your mom’s career. She has been a avid participant in the entertainment industry for years and she was invited to some crazy event with her celebrity friends and wanted you to come as her plus one. People knew she had a daughter, but they had never really seen you before. You stayed out of the spotlight when you could.

Except for tonight. Your mom had stared as the lead in a huge show, and a party was being thrown to celebrate it’s popularity and final episode. You were honored but nervous.

“Look at you!” she winked at you in the mirror. “Come on, we’re running fashionably early.” she ushered you out the chair.

...

Ugh, how much longer was this gonna last. Your feet were killing you! Your mom seemed to be having the time of her life though. She was drinking and dancing and carrying on as if she was a young college student.

“She seems to be having fun.” a voice said from behind you.

“Don’t get any ideas. That’s my mother.” you seethed. You were protective of your mom, going as far as to curse out anyone who set their sights on her whether it was positive or negative. While people didn’t know you as a celebrity, they knew you as the one who knocked the living daylights out of an ex idol who tried to touch your mother’s ass on a variety show backstage.

“Don’t worry, pet. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Once you recognized the voice, you froze. Of course he would be here! You slowly turned around, seeing Jungkook standing there with a sick smile on his face. “Missed me?”

“No!” you said a little to swiftly. You should have asked if anyone you knew was gonna be there. You felt like an idiot. Jungkook literally sang half the soundtrack for her show, of course he’d be here!

“Oh how rude.” he cooed. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.” he shrugged.

“You though wrong.” you looked him up and down. “I swear it’s like you’re following me sometimes.”

“You could say that...but just know I’ll always be there for you...watching.”

“J-just stay away from me!”

To say he had some sort of infatuation with you as an understatement. Everywhere you went, he somehow turned up. It was like he could smell you from miles away.

“Dear Y/N, don’t make a scene.” he stepped forward just so he could whisper in your ear. “Wouldn’t want to cause a disturbance.” you could feel the smirk on his face and all you wanted to do was slap it right off.

“Stay back.” you stepped away. “Leave me alone.” you pointed warningly. You attempted to walk away, only to feel him grab your hand.

Tingles shot up your spine as you touched. You shuddered, his skin was hot. You took one look at Jungkook. He seemed to be in a trance, he was staring at your hand, following it up your arm, passing over you shoulder and up your neck to stare at your face.

When you finally came to your senses, you yanked your arm back. “Don’t touch me.”

“Okay alright.” he rolled his eyes, seemingly going back to normal as well. “Just don’t get into any trouble, pet.” he scoffed. “By the way, you look good in that dress.” he drank you in. You felt exposed, very exposed. You could almost feel a draft. You glared at his back as he stalked off. That’s how it was, Jungkook was nothing more than an arrogant tease that made you wanna strangle somebody.

“Alright, I’m done.” you groaned, holding your head. You looked for your mom in the crowd. She was busy laughing with a whole bunch of her friends. You didn’t wanna leave without telling her. You’d just leave her a message.

From across the room, Jungkook watched you leave. He hated to see you leave, but watching you walk away was so gratifying. He knew you didn’t really hate it. In fact, it was amusing to watch you lie to yourself. You were lying about not wanting him, about hating him.

He knew you were lying because he would feel if you hated him. Just like he could feel the want dripping off your body. You were simply lying to yourself.

... (A few days later)

Your mom had left for another show, which left you home alone for a while. She would be filming in Japan, which meant you would have the house all to yourself. That meant you were left to your own devices when it came to fending for yourself. You hated calling your mothers assistant, he had his own family and your mom to worry about. You could handle going to the convenience store by yourself.

“Thank you for shopping with us!” the cashier waved you off as you left the store. You threw your trash in the nearby bin and began walking back. It was cold out, which prompted you to hug yourself.

What you didn’t know, is that you were being followed.

You were walking on the empty street. It was late and all the major shops had closed for the night. Your only source of light were the dimly lit tiny restaurants that were still open, and street lights that flickered as you passed.

You kept walking, ignoring that feeling in your stomach that told you you were in trouble. You just had to speed up, it was like something in you was screaming at you. A few seconds passed and you couldn’t help but turn around.

A man was standing a few feet behind you. It was way too dark to see.

“Wha-...” you began walking away, praying it was just a coincidence. You turned a corner, he followed. You turned another corner, he followed.

You were now certain he was following. You couldn’t help cut cut through the street to get to the other side, but he followed then and there. You couldn’t help but begin to run, now scared out of your mind.

You turned behind you one more time to see him speed-walking. In your haste you didn’t see Jungkook walking out of an alleyways. You rammed into him, only to scream bloody murder.

“Y/N?” Jungkook grabbed your shoulders. You were practically crying. This was the first time you were actually happy to see Jungkook of all people. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

“Someone’s following me!” you pointed down the street. Jungkook took one look in the direction where you were pointing.

You were way too scared to see his gaze harden into a glare. His blood practically boiled.

“Stay here.” he grunted, storming in the direction towards the man. “Hey buddy!” he barked, strutting over.

Jungkook glared in the direction of the sorry idiot who dared try and apprehend his catch.

...

Jungkook took you back to his place, your home would be empty for the night and you didn’t wanna be alone in that moment. You sat on the sofa, hugging yourself.

If he hadn’t been there, something bad would have happened, you knew that much. It was the first time you were grateful.

Jungkook had to gather himself. Rage shot through his body in his attempt to protect you. His senses were still in overdrive and he was sure he looked crazy. He watched you as you got comfortable, still hugging yourself.

“T-thank you.” you said for maybe the third time that night.

“Y/N. You really don’t have to thank me.” he laughed. “I told you I’d be there for you every minute, or every day.” He walked over and sat down next to you.

You finally studied his face. His smile that never reached his eyes looked very different now than it ever did. His eyes were dark with something you couldn’t really read.

“Even after I’ve been so horrible to you?”

“You may think of it that way, but I don’t.”

“How do you think of it?” you tilted your head to the side. You were genuinely interested in how Jungkook perceived your declaration of hatred towards him.

“You shouldn’t make that face.” he giggled, glossing over the subject. “I might have to ruin your innocence.”

“Ruin my-” you trailed off. It was only then you realized how close he was. Jungkook towered over you, so it was easy for his body to cast a shadow over yours. “You’re really close.” you mumbled.

“Hm, isn’t that the point?” he winked. “Your skin is so soft.”

To Jungkook’s delight, you didn’t pull away when his lips ghosted over yours. You shuddered at the mere tickle of his touch. It was like a batch of pheromones had gone out into the air because all you wanted in that moment was him. In some way or another. However it surprised him when you were the one to go for it, pressing your lips gently against his.

A low growl ripped through his throat as he rested his hand on the side of your neck. He returned you affections just as quickly as you gave it.

You tasted better than he thought. Your innocence was like a drug. It was heavy. He hummed with delight as you reached your hands up to run through his hair. He was happy, you didn’t know it in that moment, but you were accepting it. Your fate as his. After tonight it would be set in stone.

As you pulled away from Jungkook, you inhaled sharply. “W-woah.”

“Surprised, babe?” he began crawling over you, sending you back against the plush surface. “I knew you’d fall for me sooner or later.”

You were too consumed by the sight of him above you. The lights casted a halo over him. He almost looked like an angel. “I could eat you up right now Y/N.” he whispered. “Your soul is exposed to me right now.”

He drew his tongue down your neck. Leaving opened mouth kisses along your skin. You were warmed up in an instant despite being cold moments earlier. You practically squeezed your legs together in an effort to ease what you were feeling, but Jungkook was no fool.

Finally he’d get what he’d been yearning for. After so long.

...

It was the dead of night when you woke up. Your naked body was flush against Jungkook’ in what you assumed was his bed. Jungkook was practically atop you, laying his head on your chest. You tried to shimmy out of his grip and when you successfully did, you sat up.

Aches and pains shot through your body as flashbacks of moments before flooded your body. You could hear his shallow breaths in your ear telling you how much he adored you. Every bite and scratch he had left burned, but in a good way.

Words couldn’t describe how it felt enough.

“You weren’t thinking of leaving me, were you?” You looked down at Jungkook who tiredly wiped his eyes. “Fuck.” He glossed over your naked body. You were practically marked from head to toe.

“No.” you replied. “My arm was falling asleep because you were laying on me.” you replied, laughing dryly. He sat up himself, only to trail his fingertips up your arm. He shifted behind you and began placing kisses along your shoulder. He wrapped his arms around you and practically pulled you back down onto the bed with him.

...

148 notes · View notes

greenbergwrites · 4 years

Note

As far as spooky asks are concerned, how about some vampire!Bucky seducing pre-serum Steve so he can drink Steve's blood and sticking around because Steve's own insatiable thirst for Bucky's cock is endearing.

A vampire’s lair was a sacred thing--not wholly unlike a wolf’s den, as unsavory as the comparison was. It was not a place entered lightly, or at all, really, unless someone no longer valued their life. It was definitely not a place a vampire brought their food.

And yet--

And yet.

James turned his head away from the fire roaring in its hearth to stare at the figure in his bed. Pale limbs stuck out from beneath his black satin sheets, a mop of blonde hair turned golden in the firelight. He saw the subtle rise and fall of that thin body, heard the soft breaths of his sleeping companion.

If he pulled the sheets back, he’d see his come dripping out from between those small, cute little ass cheeks. He’d see his marks littering that lithe body. Bruises in the shape of his mouth, his fingers, but also the twin red pinpricks that documented his tasting of the blood held beneath such creamy, smooth skin.

Just the thought had his cock thickening again.

God, but what was he doing? If any of his coven saw him now, they’d think he’d lost his sanity, and he wouldn’t be able to blame them. They didn’t do this. It wasn’t their way.

Feeding from humans was much like sex. As long as all parties consented, continued to consent through the whole ordeal, and no one was harmed, it was generally-speaking a nonissue. The venom from their fangs gave their human donors pleasure, sometimes to the point of orgasm, and so it was often a mutual exchange. Food for pleasure, pleasure for food. The two often melding and mixing until it ended up with impromptu hookups. That’s why clubs were favored hunting grounds among his kind.

And that was where it ended, where it always ended. A few mouthfuls of blood, an orgasm in a back alley, a bathroom, a storeroom--wherever--and the parting of ways. It never continued. It certainly never continued into a vampire’s lair.

But then James thought of meeting his pretty little human. The club they’d been in hadn’t required them to find a back alley or a bathroom. It was the kind of establishment that had rooms for what they wanted. He remembered taking the boy into one of them, shutting the door and cutting off the thumping bass from the dance floor two floors below them. The way the boy had immediately sunk to his knees as soon as they were alone. Big blue eyes staring up at him as thin fingers molded to the generous tent at the front of James’ pants, a gorgeous blush blooming on pale cheeks as the boy had all but begged to suck him.

The first time James had come, it had been with a mouth around his cock and his teeth biting into a pale, thin wrist, blood blooming on his tongue only seconds before he finished. The wet spot on the front of the boy’s tight jeans told a story that had another shiver of pleasure running down his spine, another drop of cum forming at the tip of his plump head. A drop that was quickly, greedily licked away, almost sweetly, by the boy at his feet.

“Did you touch yourself?” He’d asked, brushing fingers through that blonde hair.

“No, sir,” the boy had answered, making no move to rise from his knees.

James should’ve known then that the boy would be trouble. Coming untouched from a cock in his mouth and a bite to the wrist, his sweet demeanor, the unreserved way he’d called James sir.

The second time he’d come, the boy was in his lap, letting James feed from his neck as he touched James’ cock almost shyly, those hesitant touches making him harder than the most expert handjob ever would. The boy’s orgasm had come from James’ own hand just minutes later.

It was after that second one, as they breathlessly kissed, that James had impulsively murmured, “Come home with me.”

He’d known then that he wanted more. And he’d had more, and more, and more. Every time, the boy was sweet almost to the point of innocence, and every time, he begged shamelessly, greedily, for James’ cock. Begged to taste and touch, begged to be fucked, and when he was given his heart’s desire, he offered himself up to be bitten. An offer that James had never, not even once, turned down.

He wasn’t sure how someone could be so innocent and so cockhungry at the same time, but this boy was, and it was a heady combination. An aphrodisiac.

James should be done by now. Should wake the boy and tell him to leave. But instead, he sat in a chair by the fire, naked, his cock half-hard with thoughts of the boy in his bed, and wondered how long he should let the little minx sleep before he woke him for another round.

As if he could sense James’ rising desire, the boy began to stir. He rolled onto his back, stretching and moaning as he slowly roused from sleep. When he realized he was alone, his eyes darted about the room almost frantically until they settled on James. The boy relaxed again as soon as their eyes met, a shy little smile curving his lips.

Those pretty blue eyes traveled down the length of James naked body, stopping only when they found his exposed cock, long and fat and only growing fatter under such sweet scrutiny.

James watched, just as captivated by the boy as the boy was by his cock, as a cute little tent appeared in the sheets above his lap. The boy’s cock was delicate and small, barely a handful, and James had played with it mercilessly as the boy had sucked him again just a few hours ago, before his plaything had fallen asleep.

“If you come,” he’d said, “I’ll make you stop sucking.”

It had been all the incentive the greedy little thing had needed to hold off his orgasm instead of giving into it, to let James play with that cute little cock as much as he desired. By the time he’d finally given in, allowed the boy to come, he’d been sobbing around James’ length, tears on his cheeks and his little cock sensitive to even the slightest touch.

It had been perfect, and seeing that little tent now, James wanted to do it again.

James was fully hard now, his cock huge and heavy between his legs. He spread his thighs a little wider, allowing the boy a full, unobstructed view of it. The move garnered the reaction that he thought it would. His pretty little thing shuddered, eyelashes fluttering, his features already slackening with pleasure, hazy eyes full of hunger.

“I’m hard again, boy,” James said, in a certain, domineering tone that he’d noticed his minx enjoyed.

A trembling breath left those pretty pink lips.

“Sir?” His boy asked, his voice light and sweet, submissive in a way that made James’ blood run hotter.

James took himself in hand, stroking his length slowly under the boy’s avid gaze. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought a wet spot might be growing at the peak of that little tent. He vowed then to taste it, to not let his boy come until James’ mouth was on him.

“Come here,” James ordered, in that same domineering tone.

The boy didn’t hesitate. He slipped easily from beneath the sheets, exposing his lithe body to James’ greedy gaze. That little cock, cute and pink, strained shamelessly from his body, not big or heavy enough to hang full between his legs, the way James’ did.

With quick, light steps, the boy was between his spread thighs, sinking down onto his knees, his eyes still glued to the object of his desire. He licked his lips again, gaze darting from James’ cock to his face and then back again, unable to help himself.

“Sir,” the boy said again, breathless and wanting. “Please?”

James smiled.

“Tell me what you want,” he ordered, still slowly stroking himself.

As he expected, another of those pretty blushes lit up his face. This boy hungered, but was shy about expressing it. It took a long moment, one where the conflict warred clearly on that pretty face, but just like James knew he would, the boy obeyed.

“I want to suck you,” he breathed out, those hungry eyes still trained on his cock. “I want--I want it in my mouth, sir. Please?”

It was James’ turn to shudder, such sweet entreaty hardening him almost to the point of pain, his balls aching and heavy. He cupped the back of the boy’s head with his free hand, guiding it toward his cock as he held it steady.

“Open those pretty lips, then,” he murmured, gratified when he was immediately obeyed.

He pushed gently past soft, plump lips, his cockhead greeted eagerly by a wet tongue. Almost immediately, the boy began to suckle, moaning softly as if this--a hard, fat cock in his mouth--were his own personal brand of nirvana.

James didn’t need to ask to know that it was. He’d seen the proof of it, again and again. In pursuit of a meal, he’d found himself a little cockslut, starving and neglected. A cockslut that had since gorged himself even more than James had, indulging in gluttony and would most likely continue to do so as long as he was allowed.

“That’s it, now,” he murmured, petting the boy indulgently. “Show me how hungry you are, baby boy, how much you want it. Suck it like a good little boy and maybe I’ll let you taste my come.”

The look of glassy-eyed worship he received in response told him how his words had affected the boy. He liked this, his little cockslut. Liked to be put on his knees, liked to be called a little boy and ordered about.

James liked it, too, perhaps a little too much.

Afterwards, when his cock was spent and his come painted those pretty lips, the boy utterly blissed out between his legs despite the fact that his little cock was still hard and neglected--after, the boy laid his head on James’ thigh, whining softly as he mouthed at the head of James’ cock, licking at it sweetly like a boy with his favorite treat, slim fingers idly fondling his balls. James ran fingers through his hair, still petting him, his chest warm with affection despite the fact that he barely knew the boy at all, didn’t know a thing about him beyond his sexual desires.

He would learn, though, he realized.

As he watched, the boy--no, Steve, he remembered, the boy had breathed his name into James’ mouth at that first kiss. James hadn’t used it, because he never did during such encounters, but he knew it. And from now on, he would use it. He would use it, and he would learn, because the thought of this ending, of inviting Steve into his lair and then inviting him to leave, never to be seen again, was absurd. Steve was here now, utterly at home in his lair, and here he would stay.

As he watched, Steve took the head of his cock back between his lips, suckling on it so tenderly, so sweetly, that the warmth in James’ chest grew. He hadn’t thought it possible, but if it were possible for someone to embody innocence while sucking on a cock, this boy did it perfectly.

“You’re mine now, I think,” he murmured to Steve, running his finger down a soft, smooth cheek.

His boy only suckled, blinking hazily up at him. He thought he saw an entreaty in those blue eyes, a bone-deep plea, as Steve slowly took more of him into his mouth. James had begun to harden, impossibly, again, unable to do anything else when his cock was given such sweet attention.

“Yes,” he said, allowing a smile to grace his lips, still stroking Steve’s cheek. Watching in rapt fascination as his pretty boy did nothing but indulge. “You’re mine, and I’m going to keep you.”

Steve only sighed dreamily, his eyes slipping closed as he began to suck in earnest, the soft, wet sounds of his ministrations filling the room.

To James, it sounded like agreement.

#leisurelypanda #greenberg replies #spooky prompts #vampire bucky #cockslut steve

208 notes · View notes

skylights2000 · 3 years

Text

Operation: Loved (Kazuichi x Reader)

This is essentially gonna be a Kazuichi appreciation thread because he is a truly underrated character in my book. I’ll add updates to this every now and then. You can read it as seperate stories or as a whole. Anyway, here we go! Enjoy!

You loved messing with Kazuichi.

Not in a mean way, of course. More of a you-look-absolutely-fucking-adorable-when-you-blush kind of way.

Normally, you tried not to embarrass him too much, but lately Kazuichi had been really down on himself. He’d just gotten back from doing a job with his dad last week, and things seemed to just go downhill from there. He’d had several bruises and a busted lip.

On top of that, he had told you that you’d be better off without him. You tried to argue, but he left, and since then, he’s been avoiding you like the plague.

You were normally very patient, but the anger towards Kazuichi father, the sadness that Kazuichi was hurting, and the pain of having him avoid you had all built up until you’d finally had enough.

Now, you had one mission and one mission only:

Show Kazuichi how loved he was.

You’d always had this feeling that Kazuichi had been starved of affection, but you never knew the full extent of it until you started dating. Kazuichi seemed to deem himself unworthy of any form of love.

At first, it didn’t bother you too much. You would kindly correct him and remind him that everyone deserved to be loved, but when you two got together, his insecurities seemed to grow.

He would go out of his way not to touch you, always claiming he just didn’t see the point of it, but you knew better. He became more irritable, sometimes starting fights over how much better you would be without him.

You’d tried to help, tried to soothe him with kind words, always afraid of pushing too hard, but this was going nowhere. It was time for you to man up. You needed to face this head on, and if that meant drowning Kazuichi in your love, so be it.

This new line of action started on a Tuesday, the week after midterms.

You stepped into the garage on campus, taking a minute to examine the various projects in each room as you made your way to the one belonging to Kazuichi and Miu. You’d run out of screws, so you came to see if they’d let you borrow some.

When you stepped inside, Miu was nowhere to be seen, but after a bit of searching around, you saw a head of pink hair, half hidden under a black beanie, and you smiled as you walked over to Kazuichi.

You were just about to tap him on the shoulder when he yelped, jumping backwards when he shocked himself. You flinched, instinctively trying to catch him, but your plan quickly backfired when you stumbled backwards at the sudden weight, taking him with you as you fell.

Your back hit the ground with a thump, knocking the air from your lungs, and you were incredibly thankful that Kazuichi wasn’t very heavy, or he probably would’ve crushed you.

He was sprawled across you, his back pressed against your chest. Once he realized what had happened, he immediately rolled off of you, apologizing profusely.

You sat up, rubbing your shoulder to soothe the pain there. You supposed you should’ve expected it to hurt. The floor was concrete, after all.

When he saw that it was you, his cheeks took on a pink hue, and he ducked his head as he apologized once again. “I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you were there, and I didn’t mean t-“

You touched his shoulder, squeezing gently. “It’s okay, Kazuichi.” You told him with a reassuring smile.

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Some Ultimate Mechanic, right?” He laughed self deprecatingly. “Can’t even fix a fuckin’ wire.”

You looked personally offended by the remark, as if he’d insulted you instead. “Don’t say that! You’re doing a great job, Kazu.”

If you thought he was blushing before, it was nothing compared to now. His face had turned the same color as his hair, and it was then that you remembered how embarrassed he got when you called him that.

You smiled slyly, your eyes gleaming mischievously. You got to your feet and held out your hands to him, pulling him up with relative ease.

Kazuichi was thin and fairly light, but you were also stronger from lifting stacks of wood, large wooden parts, and furniture. You had gained a lot of muscle since you became a woodworker, and it was that blood, sweat, and tears that earned you the title of the Ultimate Woodworker. It was that title that got you a part time job teaching classes on woodcarving and carpentry. You enjoyed it a lot, and being able to share your passion with others never failed to make your heart feel light.

“What were you tryin’ to do anyway?” You asked, glancing over his shoulder curiously.

He hesitantly shifted so you could see his workbench. “Nothin’ special, just tryin’ to fix Miu’s alarm clock.”

You stared at the broken and dismantled object in front of you in pure disbelief. “That’s an alarm clock?”

“Well, It was..before Miu threw it at a wall.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I knew she wasn’t a morning person, but I didn’t think she was THAT bad.”

“Don’t go talkin’ about me behind my back!” Miu yelled as she barged into the room. She stopped beside them, folding her arms over her chest in an attempt to look angry.

You poked her in the side, earning a squeal from the younger girl. “Quit acting like you’re mad. Anger doesn’t suit you well.” You teased playfully, watching Miu turn red.

Sometimes you swore Miu had a thing for being made fun of because the girl instantly swooned.

“Sometimes I really think you might be a masochist.”

“Ah, Ibuki says the same thing!” Miu giggled dreamily. She always got like this when she talked about Ibuki.

Miu quickly shook her head and turned to Kazuichi. “So, can ya fix it?” She asked, motioning to the would be alarm clock.

“Yeah, it’ll take some time, but I can probably get it done by they end of the day.”

Miu grinned, whacking him on the back so hard that he almost stumbled. “Awesome! Thanks Pinky!”

Kazuichi sighed at the nickname but turned back to the clock, nonetheless. He began to tinker with the different pieces and wires while you watched curiously. You’d always found it strangely calming to watch Kazuichi work. Watching the way his fingers moved nimbly made you want to take his hand.

So you did.

You caught him so off guard that he nearly dropped the screwdriver he’d been reaching for. “Wh-What’re y-you-?”

You’d been about to let go when you noticed something.

You turned his hand, running your thumb over a small burn mark on the back of his hand. “Did you drop one of your cigarettes or something?”

When he didn’t respond, you looked up at him. He was looking away, a bitter frown on his face. He didn’t have to answer for you to realize that his dad had done it.

On instinct, you brought his hand up to your face, lowering your head enough to brush your lips over the scar.

You felt more than saw him stiffen, and you stayed there for a second longer before straightening up and letting go.

For some reason, as you looked at him, your mind drifted to Sonia. You still found it surprising that Kazuichi had ended up with you, considering you were practically Sonia’s exact opposite.

Sonia was polite, formal, and very elegant. She was the Ultimate Princess for a reason. She was gentle in personality with a graceful, refined appearance. She lived lavishly, though she never once bragged about it. The only thing about Sonia that didn’t scream ‘Princess’ was her avid love of the occult.

You looked up to Sonia quite a lot and had been very happy when you were able to become friends. However, now that you had grown to be such close friends, it only made the differences between you stand out even more to you.

You were gentle in nature, but that was where it stopped. When it came to your actions and way of living, the only word that came to your mind was clumsy.

You were clumsy in every aspect of the word. Sonia was graceful and focused, while you were scatterbrained and often daydreaming. You often tripped, overworked, or just accidentally hurt yourself. You sometimes caused problems that could’ve been avoided if you’d just paid a little more attention.

Sonia was soft spoken and gentle, while you were sometimes too loud, amazed by simple things, and sometimes a bit too enthusiastic.

You had a calm side, of course, but with the calm came one of two things: Peacefulness and warmth or somber thoughts and dark memories.

Sonia was beautiful: small, soft, and petite.

You actually two inches taller than Kazuichi. You were lanky with broad shoulders and a lean frame. You had scars that dotted your skin, though most were hidden beneath her clothes.

Some were from accidents while you were working. Most were from the abuse you had suffered in the foster care system.

You worked hard, often showing up for your dates with messy hair that was sprinkled with sawdust. Kazuichi always laughed as you dusted it out, and you would smile and laugh along with him, but sometimes, you really did wonder why he liked you.

You didn’t get why he liked your sweat-streaked face and calloused hands. Everything about you was the opposite of what he’d once told you that he liked in a girl. It often left you wondering what on earth he saw in you.

Despite your less than stellar thoughts, you smiled happily, your fingers lightly brushing his arm as you slid past him. “See ya later.”

You waved and headed for the door, only realizing once you were outside that you had completely forgotten to ask for some screws.

#danganronpa goodbye despair #danganronpa imagines #danganronpa fluff #danganronpa #kazuichi souda #kazuichi x reader #kazuichi imagine

37 notes · View notes

tansypoisoning · 4 years

Text

(Un)Conditional - Part 2

I Came Out to Have a Good Time and I’m Honestly Feeling So Attacked Right Now

You didn’t remember how or why you found yourself in Ransom’s bed in the first place, but now, poor, pregnant and desperate, you had your reasons for putting up with him, and they weren’t noble. His reasons for staying with you weren’t noble either.

Hey, long time no see... This took me longer than it should because I wasn’t sure about the dialogue. Still not sure about it. Some of you might have missed the polls I posted so you could help me decide the future of this series, so here they go: Whether or not I should redeem Ransom and What gender the baby (or babies, damn) should be. Democracy is important :)

Anyway: Reader meets the Thrombeys...

Story warnings: Smut, abusive relationships, mentions of past sexual assault, talk of abortion, daddy kink, drinking, mention of drug use (Will add more as the story goes on)

Chapter 1 - Truce

Chapter 3

Fandoms: Knives Out

Ships: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Word Count: 6k

Chapter warnings: The reader and Ransom joke about incest and Ransom jokes about selling the baby to pay his grandfather back for all the money he lend him; people drink wine; there’s mention of drugs and people doing them; The Thrombeys are being particularly shitty.

You were off to the clinic to get an urine exam the next day. Ransom had encouraged you to get a more reliable test to make sure you were pregnant, but he wouldn’t accompany you. He was busy, he said, but he didn’t say with what. Probably begging his granddaddy for more money or chasing after another pair of legs.

The clinic would call you in a couple of days to let you know the results. The wait was killing you. The longer you waited, the harder it would be for you to get an abortion. At some point the pill would stop being an option, and you would have to go under the… knife? Scalpel? Coat hanger? Whatever the procedure entailed, it was bound to be more stressful than just taking some meds.

What was most concerning, though, was the possibility of you becoming attached to the fetus. Your misgivings originated from a fear that you might be doing something you shouldn’t, but you had no particular regard for the thing growing inside you. You might as well be carrying a rock – it certainly tired you like one. Some day that could change, though, and the moment it did you knew it would be game over.

The first thing you did when you got home was take off your coat, kick off your shoes and fall face-first on the couch. That was also the only thing you did. According to the sources you checked, fatigue was an early pregnancy symptom, but you weren’t sure it was meant to be this bad. Good thing you weren’t behind on your freelance work; you didn’t think you could handle doing anything that evening. You were hungry, but didn’t have the energy to even go to the kitchen. Your cellphone started ringing at some point, but you had dropped your bag by the entrance. Maybe something else happened too; you didn’t know, you fell asleep soon after.

You were roused from your nap by a cacophony of car honks right outside your window.

You jumped from the couch and stumbled to see what the commotion was about. You expected to find a car crash in front of your building, but all that was there was a familiar vehicle.

You stepped into your slippers and left your apartment. Ransom was still abusing the horn of his BMW when you came out onto the lawn.

“What are you doing?” You cried out, jogging to his car.

He put his head out through the window. “You don’t pick up your phone anymore?” He complained.

“I was sleeping.” The reason why you didn’t answer didn’t matter. This was a distraction. “Why are you here?”

“I came to pick you up, what else?” He seemed to notice you confusion and explained himself “I’m going to introduce you to my family. They’re having a dinner party tonight at my grandfather’s house. If I show up there with a kid before they even know the mother, my mother’s gonna kill me.”

That gave you pause. Introduce you to his family? That had never been in the cards before. Ransom had always been against anything that could hint to intimacy that went beyond sex, because intimacy entailed responsibility, and he was allergic to that. Your relationship was more of an arrangement, one in which he was the one with the most to gain.

Perhaps this would be your chance to really get something for yourself, something other than the occasional orgasm. Although Ransom’s charms and your proclivities were the biggest reason behind the start of your odd relationship, you’d be lying if you said his grandfather’s accomplishments didn’t affect your interest in him. Having been an avid reader of Harlan’s books back in high school (when you still had time and motivation to read) and now working as an assistant editor in the mystery fiction imprint of a large publishing company, you had hoped that maybe being involved with Ransom would give you the chance to meet him.

Even when it became clear Ransom didn’t like you like that, you still stuck around. He was inflexible when it came to your relationship’s dynamics, but you still had a sliver of hope that one day you’d get to meet his family. In the end you were right, and all you had to do to get your wish was let your idol’s grandson raw you after a couple of beers.

“I’m not even sure if I’m pregnant yet.”

“After five tests? Come on.”

“Well, I don’t know if I’m gonna keep it.”

“If you don’t, you don’t. Just let me introduce you before you decide. It’ll be awkward otherwise.”

You couldn’t argue with his logic. Ransom’s family wasn’t likely to think well of you if he introduced you as “the chick I knocked up by accident”. Your family wouldn’t be happy about it either, and yet you had to find a way to convince him to meet them at some point. You knew they weren’t going to like him, but it was better than trying to pretend it was a case of Immaculate Conception. They wouldn't fall for it anyway.

“Go get ready so we can go.” He said.

You nodded and ran back inside. He looked like he was in a rush, so all you felt comfortable doing was retouching your make up and putting on a different pair of pants. When you came back down, Ransom was pouting at his wheel.

“About time,” he said “I thought you weren’t coming.”

“I took like five minutes.”

“Eight.” He tapped the watch in his wrist.

You decided humoring him wasn’t worth it, so you got into the passenger seat without a word. Ransom took off, his tires squealing as he did a u-turn on your sidewalk. He always drove like a madman, most of all when he was in a hurry.

“How long ‘til we get there?” You asked.

“I can make it in half an hour.”

“I mean safely.”

“In that case, thirty minutes.”

Shame on you, forgetting Ransom was convinced he was immortal.

“Is there anything I have to know about your family before I get there?” You asked, trying to take your mind off the traffic lights flashing by at an alarming speed.

“I could never do them justice,” he snickered.

“At least give me something to work with.”

“You are going to have talk to my parents at least,” he mused “Just nod and agree with whatever my father says. You gotta be smarter with my mother, but avoid challenging her. Joni and Meg are annoying, Walt’s creepy, and there’s no point in talking to Donna and Jacob; they’re gonna hate you no matter what.”

“And Harlan?”

The question put a grimace on his face.

“Be honest. He’s gonna like you.” There was a minute pause before he added “We just celebrated his eighty-fifth birthday, so if you can bring up how good he looks for his age without being obnoxious, he’s gonna love it.”

“Eighty-five? When was that?” You liked Harlan’s work, but you didn’t like it enough to bother learning his birth year. You expected him to be younger, what with all the books he was still pumping out on a yearly basis.

“Last week.”

“Your family is big on get-togethers, then?”

He grimaced. “Unfortunately.”

“Familiarity breeds contempt,” you offered. You weren’t sure you’d get along with your parents as well as you did if they didn’t live in another state.

“Sucking does too.”

“But I thought you liked people who suck?”

That was a twelve year old boy joke, but it got you a chuckle.

“Already know what I’ll be trying today: Hey, Joni, blow me.”

“That’s your aunt right?” You asked and received a nod in response “I can’t wait to see you asking her for a blow job.” You didn’t really think he would go that far, so you weren’t worried you were goading him on. If he did it anyway, it would be because he decided the amusement he would get from pissing his aunt off would be worth whatever she could do to get back at him.

“Fuck, I’d accept one from my grandfather at this point.” You two had had sex just yesterday, but that was fine, you supposed.

“I think I’m going to regret this, but since we’re already in too deep and none of us knows when to stop, where are your parents in the Joni-Harlan blowjob scale?” This question might’ve offended anyone else, but Ransom was made of sterner, more horrible stuff.

He replied without missing a beat. “Oh, my dad wins easy. I don’t fancy getting bit.”

The throwaway line about his mother killing him if he just announced your pregnancy out of the blue came to mind. You wondered if she was as terrible as he made her out to be. You wondered if any of his relatives were as horrible as he made teem out to be.

“Hard to think you’d be scared of anyone in your family with all the money they lend you and you never pay back.”

He snorted. “I’m not scared of any of them. Wouldn’t be going if I were. I already owe Harlan more ‘one-pounds of flesh’ than I weigh.”

“Good thing he doesn’t charge interest.”

“Who says he doesn’t?” His eyes flicked to you for a moment, comically wide “What do you think I want the baby for?”

“You- you want the baby?” You knew he meant to jest about selling your child, and perhaps the bit about wanting it was said in the spirit of the joke, but you couldn’t help but hope it was a Freudian slip. Why did you hope that?

His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he considered your question for a few seconds. “I said I would help you with it.”

“No, you said that at first, but now you said you want it. I didn’t even ask for help, I just thought I should tell you. Why did you offer to help in the first place?”

He shrugged. Something about the gesture felt off, less cocksure than his usual self. “Because it felt right.”

“But do you want to do it? Do you even know what raising a child means?”

“Do you?”

No, you didn’t. You might have even less knowledge of the subject than Ransom, weird as that seemed. You hadn’t said you wanted to have the baby, though. You weren’t sure what you wanted.

“Do you want me to drop you off at a clinic? Because we can end this now.” Something about the way he’d said it made it seem as if he was talking about more than just the pregnancy.

“That’s not what I meant.” You whispered.

Edifices were replaced by trees as Ransom drove on. It was easy to focus on the changing view, now that he wasn’t talking to you anymore. You had broken one of his unspoken rules: never get emotional around him. You knew he wasn’t in it for something as trivial as feelings, but now with the pregnancy thing you thought… Well, you weren’t sure what you thought.

The rest of the trip went by in silence, seeming to take forever in spite of the scenery flying by. By the time you arrived at your destination you were disheartened – lucky you that the house Ransom parked in front of was the stuff murder mystery fiction dreams were made of.

Harlan’s mansion had been plucked from one of his books, it had to have been. With its red bricks and the Gothic Revival style, it looked like it’d been taken straight out of “Around the Corner and Down the Lane”. It was a magnificent, giant, mysterious house you could easily imagine multiple murders happening inside.

It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

Ransom left the car, slamming the door shut on his way out. You had to hurry after him to get to the porch as he was knocking on the door.

You didn’t have to wait long to hear sounds coming from the other side. There were footsteps against a wooden floor and the shuffling of keys, and then time seemed to slow down. When you woke up that morning, you’d never have thought you would end up meeting Ransom’s family by the end of the day. Were they anything like him? What would they think of you? And what would they think about the thing? You weren’t going to talk about it today, but still…

The door opened, revealing a slim woman with an old fashioned bob-cut. She looked confused when she saw Ransom, and even more when she spotted you. She opened her mouth, but didn’t get the chance to say anything.

“Hey, Frannie,” Ransom greeted. If you didn’t know him better, you’d assume he was being friendly. “Take this for me, would you?”

He removed his coat with the speed you’d come to expect from him when it came to taking off his clothes and shoved the mass of fabric into her arms. He walked inside, brushing past her, ignoring the outraged look on her face. You followed after, and her expression was no kinder towards you. It wasn’t the first time someone got mad at you for something Ransom did, but what were you to do? It wasn’t as if you could control him.

As Ransom walked through an arch on the left and the woman scurried through a door to the right, you stood on the spot right in front of the entrance. The gargoyles sculpted in the wood of the stair railing paralyzed you, the lights from the ornate chandelier blinded you, and the memories of books read long ago, hiding under the blankets with a flashlight when you were supposed to be sleeping came rushing back to you. This was much more than you had been expecting.

The inside of the house was dark and sinister like the outside, but there was a sense of warmth you hadn’t anticipated. The soft lights, the lavish rugs, and the numerous trinkets scattered about gave it a lived in feeling. The decoration somehow split the difference between “home” and “haunted house” right down the middle.

Why was it that Ransom didn’t like visiting his grandfather again?

“What are you standing around for?”

Speak of the devil…

Your forced your feet to move and followed him deeper into the house. Something inside you screamed at you to just ditch Ransom and this stupid dinner party to explore by yourself, because you got the feeling he would end up dragging you to a place that looked much more boring. You needn’t have worried – the living room was adorned in much the same way as the hall, cluttered and discordant and fascinating. Every piece of decor seemed to selected based on its own merits rather than any common theme or style, but it somehow all worked together.

You had started making your way to a windowsill, from where a model of a carousel with fish instead of horses called to you, when a voice stopped you in your tracks – a voice you had never heard before.

“Who’s that?”

You whirled around to see a man standing just a few feet away from Ransom. The age was about right, and with the two standing so close together, it was hard to deny the similarities between them.

“That’s my date,” Ransom said with a shrug.

“Date? You brought a date?”

“Nice, Richard. We don’t want to make her feel too welcome.”

At that, the older man looked back at you with a grin that would be charming if not for the utter shock reflected in his eyes.

“Hey, there,” he greeted, extending a hand “Richard Drysdale, father of this,” he glanced behind himself to look at Ransom, who was busy messing with a figurine in the mantelpiece “rascal.”

You offered your hand to him (his handshake was strong, professional) and introduced yourself.

“I gotta say, this is really something else,” Richard said “Ransom hasn’t brought any girls home since high school.”

“I bring girls home all the time, I just don’t live with you anymore.”

The meaning of his words didn’t go unnoticed. You already knew he fucked other women on the side – or rather, there was no “side”; you guys weren’t a thing, and it wasn’t as if you only put out for him – but Richard understood him as well.

“Is that the kind of thing you say in front of your date? I thought we taught you better than this.”

“No, Richard. We really didn’t.”

You looked to the source of the voice, and spotted the woman who had to be Ransom’s other progenitor.

“Linda,” she extended her hand to you, but not a smile. Her handshake was even stronger than her husband’s.

Richard joined his son by the fireplace to fiddle with a pewter box, looking downright chastised. Ransom, for his part, seemed to be fighting the urge to laugh.

He had said his family was a mess, and that he found it all terribly fun. Up until now, you weren’t really sure you believed him.

“Whatever this” Linda pointed from her son to you, then back to him again “is about, I hope it ends soon, for your sake.” The last bit, she’d said while looking at you, then she left through a different archway than she’d entered from.

It seemed Ransom had inherited the charm from his father, but the ability to put the fear of God in those who crossed him came from his mother.

“Who else is here?” Ransom asked once Linda was out of earshot.

“Mostly everyone is in the library,” Richard replied, pinching the bridge of his nose, all the former friendliness leaving him like a deflating balloon “your grandfather locked himself in his office with the nurse, and who knows where they put Wanetta. Meg’s not coming.”

“What excuse did Joni come up with?”

“Schoolwork. Essays, whatever. I mean, it’s a Friday, it could wait.”

“She’s going to spend at least half of the evening doing drugs with a friend, easy.”

“Dope.”

Ransom snorted “Like she’s shooting up.”

Richard fixed his son with a disbelieving look. “No. Dope is weed. Dope was weed just yesterday.”

“It used to be.” Upon seeing the defeated expression on his father’s face, Ransom shrugged “World’s passing you by, man.”

That didn’t help. Richard looked back to the pewter box, turning it on his fingers like he was trying to find the best angle to see his reflection. Ransom stared at him for a second longer, then stepped away from the fireplace and exited through the same way his mother had.

He didn’t call you, so you assumed you weren’t needed at the moment, but then, what were you going to do with yourself – watch a man have an existential crisis?

You didn’t have to wait long to find out. You had been standing there, watching Richard sigh to himself for maybe a minute when three other people entered the room. The first was the woman who had opened the door for you; the second, a younger woman, with something almost doe-like about her, and the third…

Well, Harlan Thrombey didn’t need introductions – at least, not to you.

He was the first to speak, looking at the woman Ransom had called Frannie. “Seems like you aren’t going mad, Fran. Unless we all are, which is possible. Can you see her too?” And at that he turned to the other woman, who smiled at him. It was hard to tell whether her smile was fond or embarrassed.

Then, his eyes landed on you.

“Since you’re just standing around with this idiot,” He said. Richard gave a tight smile and tapped his fingers against the mantelpiece “I’m going to guess idiot number two left you to fend for yourself?”

This wasn’t the kind of welcome you’d expect when meeting your not-boyfriend’s family, but Ransom was eccentric, so maybe his relatives were as well. Maybe it was a rich people thing.

“I’m used to it, when it comes to Ransom” you offered.

Harlan grinned at you, but then again, he had been smiling since he entered the room. There was something very Ransom-like about both expressions.

He ambled to you, extending a hand which you rushed to grasp. His smile grew, but maybe that wasn’t good.

“I’m Harlan, the proprietor of this” he gestured to the room with both hands “little menagerie of horrors. And these,” he turned to the women “are Fran, my housekeeper, the only one who can keep this mess in order,” the woman who’d opened the door smiled and raised her hand in greeting, but she still seemed suspicious of you “and Marta, my caretaker. Heaven sent, I would already be dead if not for her.”

Marta had smiled at you as she was introduced, but frowned at the last comment.

“Don’t say that,” she admonished “you’re strong like a horse, you’re going to live for a million years, I’m sure.”

Harlan whimpered theatrically and extended a hand as if trying to grasp at something.

“Marta, is that you? It’s so dark, I can’t see. Oh, is that a light at the end of the tunnel?”

“Really? You’re impossible.” Marta huffed, and Harlan laughed.

They seemed close. Close enough that they’d forgotten all about you in their banter.

Once he was done with his joke Harlan turned back to you.

“I promise you I don’t get any more charming, but you get used to it with time.”

Time. Did he think you’d get to be around long enough to get used to anything there?

“Let’s... get this party started,” he said with a wink “I don’t ask you your name because I’m dying to see how my grandson will introduce you, and I don’t want to get attached.”

That answered that question.

You followed the party of three into another living room(parlor?), then another(fainting room? How many rooms for sitting could one person need?), then finally to what you presumed was the library (that could easily double as a living room), given the floor to ceiling bookcases in every wall that wasn’t occupied by a window. The room was large, large than any room in a house needed or had a right to be, and there were so many books on so many shelves there was no way Harlan would’ve been able to read them all, even accounting for his age.

Despite the exorbitance, the place was cozy and interesting, not at all a monochromatic art installation behemoth the likes of the Kardashian-West mansion (Which you didn’t care about in the slightest… one of your coworkers had shown you the pictures, it was all), the sort of thing you expected from people with too much money and no sense of comfort. The library was furbished with plush seats, nooks where one could hide in to read in peace, even a mezzanine, and– was that a sculpture inspired by “A Thousand Knives”?! Excessive, very excessive, and somehow also really cool. You were sure you could spend hours perusing books and examining baubles, but there were other people already in the room, and you had been raised too well to just ignore them when it was obvious you had already seen them.

Linda leaned against an open window, balancing an unlit cigarette between two fingers, and looking out, as if debating whether or not to have a smoke and whether or not doing so inside. There were a man and a woman on a pair of matching high-backed chairs, looking nervous and annoyed respectively as another woman talked at them, and a teenager speaking to Ransom in between typing things on his phone. He was the first to notice you’d entered the room and he directed a brief glare to you before his eyes landed on Marta.

“Well, no need to stand up or anything,” Harlan spoke from behind you, waving his hand as he passed.

“Dad, plea-” the sitting man began, but he stopped once he saw you. After a moment of confused staring by both parties, he looked back to Harlan “Is that-”

“Don’t know; she came with your nephew.”

All eyes were now on Ransom. He was enjoying the attention, if the stupid smug grin on his face was any indication.

“I brought a date. I figured I had to be the first to do it, since Meg thinks all sex is rape and Jacob’s an incel,” that earned him an elbow in the gut, which he barely reacted to.

“A date? Boohoo,” Harlan spoke, and you almost winced “I expected something more exciting from you.”

“Would you rather she was a notorious diamond thief and I brought her here to steal every red penny you own, old man?”

“That would be more on brand.”

“That’s it,” Marta said, placing her hands on his shoulders and directing him to an armchair in front of the knife sculpture “I’m putting you to bed earlier, abuelo.”

“Not without me throwing a tantrum, you��re not.”

Ransom’s uncle looked back and forth from his father, then to you, then to his nephew, before settling on you and standing up. He picked up a cane that was resting beside the armchair and wobbled toward you, smiling.

“Hello. I’m Walt, it’s a pleasure to meet you…”

You gave him your name, exchanged proper greetings, shook hands; his fingers were trembling slightly, but the length of the hand shake was very appropriate.

“I hope you like it here so far. Any friend of Ransom’s is welcome here.”

“You say that because you never met any of my friends.”

“You know what Ransom,” Walt turned gave him a sarcastic smile “I’m surprised you have any friends at all. You sure you not paying her to be here?”

You didn’t know exactly what it was that Walt had said, but something had set Ransom off.

“Why, you want a round with her? Don’t think you could afford it right now, pal.”

Walt’s lips were still pulled up into a smile, but his pupils were darting from side to side like he was searching for escape routes. That was fair, so were you.

“Don’t speak to my husband that way,” the woman who hadn’t said a single word to or even acknowledged your presence so far, gripped the seat’s armrest as she seethed at Ransom “it’s not his fault that-”

At that she fell silent and turned to Harlan, who was looking at everything with mild interest.

“Actually, you don’t have a job either, do you Donna?” Ransom continued. You knew that look; he was getting steam and you didn’t want to know what would come next.

“I think we’re all just a little stressed with everything that’s been going on,” the woman who had been silent so far – Ransom’s other aunt, you presumed, the one he wanted to suck his dick – mercifully cut in before he could get anything else out “I think we need to roll things back, maybe start over? I can go back to the car and get my crystals so we can do a-”

As if on cue, Fran entered again, a tray with a wine bottle and glasses in hand. She left everything on a coffee table, then walked by Marta, whispering something that convinced the younger woman to move to a more secluded corner of the room with her.

Donna perked up when the drink touched the table, and, smiling the well practiced smile of a hostess who did her duty with no joy, she started pouring drinks and handing them around. When one of the glasses was placed in your hands, you weren’t sure what to do. You rolled the stem in your fingers, pondering as the other adults drank and Jacob sulked.

“So,” Joni began, giving you an easy grin “you and Ransom have known each other for…”

As she trailed off, Linda chuckled, but she wasn’t looking at you.

“Eight months, give or take.” You answered.

The answer seemed to surprise her “Eight months? And how long have you been dating?”

“Oh, I’m not...” you turned to Ransom for help, but he was looking at his nails as if they were the most fascinating thing in the World or as if he really didn’t want to take part in this conversation “I’m not sure. We haven’t exactly made things official.”

It looked like she was fighting to keep her smile in place “And you met-”

“What do you do?” Linda interrupted, still looking out the window “Do you actually have a job or are you just expecting to scam someone here?”

You turned to Ransom; he had placed a hand over his heart and was looking at his mother as if he found her comment deeply offensive.

You hadn’t thought about what you would say if Ransom’s family decided to grill you, deciding it would be best not to overthink things as he’d suggested. A question about your job was expected – it was just harder to process it when it had been asked in such a manner.

“No, I- I’m an assistant editor at Little, Brown and Company.”

There was a splashing sound, and you looked just in time to see Walt trying to rub off a stain from his sweater with one hand, while holding his wine glass with trembling fingers. When he noticed you looking at him, he offered a stiff smile.

That was the wrong answer, it seemed. It was the truth, of course, but the reactions around you were discouraging. Linda huffed, Harlan chuckled, Joni nodded mechanically, Donna seethed as she wiped at her husband’s clothes with a napkin, Walt trembled, Jacob’s scowl deepened, the sound coming from Fran and Marta’s corner of the room ceased, and Ransom’s grin was the widest you had ever seen on his face.

“Really?” Linda asked, now focused on her son “Where do you find those people?”

He laughed. “What? I’m very charming.”

“I need to use the restroom,” you squawked. You didn’t really need the restroom, just any place other than there.

“I’ll show you where it is,” Marta said, as quickly as you had. Her eyes told you everything: she was also dying to get out.

You handed your drink over to Ransom and followed Marta out of the room, the two of you almost running down the hallway.

She led you to a lavatory, where you turned on the faucets to cover the sound of you whimpering and heaving inside. After splashing your face with some water, you exited the room to find her still waiting for you outside. She offered an apologetic smile.

“So…” you started, not sure of how to best broach the subject. Good thing she already knew what you wanted to get at.

“They aren’t always like this,” she said “they’re all good people, but things have been a little… you know how it can be with family, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah, it’s just a little… seems kind of a bad time for me to be showing up.”

“No, I think it helps. They are better behaved when there’s company.”

But that’s true of everyone.

“Ransom didn’t tell you about…? Anything?” She asked.

“No. He said it’d be fine.”

Marta’s expression was of doubt, but she didn’t say anything to discredit him.

“Are you okay to go back?”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay.”

She nodded and stared leading you back to the room.

“They’re good people, but can be a little much sometimes. You get used to it with time.”

“You- I’m sorry if I’m overstepping, but you don’t look that used to them yourself.”

She shrugged “I guess I just… haven’t been around long enough.”

The scene you returned to was different from the one you had run from. Linda had abandoned the window and reclined on one of the armchairs. Richard had made his appearance, leaning against a bookcase behind Linda; He kept a respectful (perhaps even safe) distance between the two. Walt, Jacob and Donna were squeezed in on a single couch, looking like they’d just been plucked from a stuffy family portrait. Joni lounged on a window seat, leaning her chin on one hand and swirling her wine with the other. Fran was nowhere to be found. Harlan, sat atop the chair in front of the halo of knives, looking every bit the magnanimous patriarch. Ransom had taken his place on an armchair, just beside another empty one. On his other side was a small table with two empty wineglasses. His legs were crossed and he had a wide, satisfied smile that you knew well – so you knew it couldn’t mean anything good.

You sat beside him and angled your body in a way you felt would rend a pretty picture, because that seemed to be the game they were playing, while Marta made her way to a corner and stood there, doing the most not to draw attention to herself. Smart.

“So,” Harlan began as you settled into your spot “I think you were telling us about your career?”

“Yes, but there really isn’t much else to say.” Unless they wanted to be bored, that is. You had more tales of spotting typos than of interesting literary works.

“You said you worked at Little, Brown and Co?” He asked and you nodded “How long have you been there?”

“Two years. It’s about all the experience I have working in the field, other than internships in college.”

“Ah, College.” He grinned, but didn’t explain what he found so amusing “What did you major in?”

“English literature, with a minor in communications.”

“Good, good. Topical. You two bonded over books, then?”

You turned to Ransom, who was looking at you with a lazy smile. You had never told him about your job, let alone what you had studied in college.

“Yep,” he said. You two talked about books sometimes, but you didn’t think those conversations had helped with any bonding.

“You know, I think it’s so good to see Ransom has found a positive influence,” Joni said. The affectation in her voice and mannerisms was suddenly much more noticeable, and it felt like an omen.

You turned to Ransom. His lips were pressed together into a thin line and his chest was swelling like he was gathering oxygen for a screaming match or something worse. The longer you spent around these people, the more you were convinced he wasn’t the only one who liked to needle others.

“Honestly, I-” the words tumbled out of your mouth and you could only hope they were the right ones “I’m not sure if he’s influenceable.”

Ransom was still scowling and for a moment you were afraid you had only made things worse, but then his mouth opened and he let out the air in his lungs with a low chuckle. Much better than being in the middle of another argument.

Fran walked back into the room before anyone else could start a scene and announced that dinner was ready. Apparently Harlan hadn’t been exaggerating when he said she was the only one who kept his house in order – all around you tense shoulders relaxed and frowning brows smoothed with the promise of a meal. You must’ve looked happy as well, given you hadn’t eaten a thing since lunch and your stomach was starting to hurt. There was also (and you wished the thought hadn’t run through your mind, but it did) the chance that Ransom and his family would be much less likely to speak if their mouths were stuffed with meatloaf.

You wished you didn’t have those sort of intrusive thoughts about people you had just met, but they weren’t making it easy for you. Marta had alluded to a “family situation” that had left them on edge, but you had never seen people react this badly to strangers. This was the stuff or nightmares, or at least of “Florida Man” news reports. They were supposedly worse when there wasn’t company? How much worse could they get?

Ransom had told you not to worry about dining with his family. Maybe he was so used to them he didn’t think the way they acted was all that strange; maybe he knew his family would behave the way they had but he decided not to warn you for purposes of fuckery; it didn’t matter all that much. The worst thing was knowing that they sucked as hard as he liked to say they did. If you chose to go on with your pregnancy, this is what you would be bringing your child into.

#ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fic #Ransom Thrombrey #knives out fanfic #mine #(Un)Conditional

209 notes · View notes

intrulogical · 4 years

Text

Spirals

author’s note: oh literally this is the worst. who knew the first fic without logan would've been a nightmare to make. i just really wanted to establish a secure dynamic between janus and remus, make some junji ito references, and move on, honestly. i just want to get to the fanfiction where they play poker and argue with the light sides, ya'know? but still, i guess i had to make *this* fanfiction. think of it as the halloween episode in sanders sides.

this fic literally cannot be read as a standalone so, for the love of all things good, please read the other fics in the series to understand what the fuck is going on! because this fic is sure as hell messy so reading it by itself won't even make sense lmao

like always, thank you to the logang discord for support! big thanks especially to kei, orb, and ellie for beta reading!

pairings: Platonic Remus & Janus, Mentions of Romantic Remus/Logan, Mentions of Past Remus/Janus

warnings: remus angst, critical light sides, light sides negativity, swearing, remus-typical content, mentions of nsfw, weird horror-inspired creatures, slight self-esteem issues, just remus being sad :(

word count: 5502

summary: Remus sighed. It didn’t matter, he supposed. As long as the buzz from the lake distracted his thoughts and the hypnotizing spirals in the sky continued to drift, it would all be fine.

Spirals, spirals, spirals. Just like how he was spiralling right now. He chuckled at himself for the stupid connection; Logan really got him used to doing pointless word association games.

Word association games. Logan. His lover, boyfriend, partner, whatever.

Remus raised his arms to rub his tired face. The soaked sleeves of his hoodie dripped the water unto his cheeks. He really did not want to think about Logan and the possibility of him becoming a--

He splashed his arms back onto the water furiously as he furrowed his lip.

or,

Remus has some conflicting thoughts about Logan becoming a "Dark" Side, has a different unidentifiable problem, and swims around in his Junji Ito-inspired creation. Janus, on the other hand, has to convince him to take a break.

(ao3 link)

There was a buzzing, staticky sensation that tickled Remus’s neck and legs as he floated atop the Dragonfly Pond. The lake itself, admittedly, was highly unrealistic as Remus hadn’t perfected every single aspect of his copy of Uzumaki’s horrific town of Kurozu-Cho, but Remus enjoyed traversing through the ghastly lake nonetheless. The odd buzz that fizzled against his skin felt weirdly satisfying and mind-numbing, allowing the irksome, overwhelming thoughts in his head to evaporate slightly.

Remus understood that he should’ve been tucked in his bed by now, falling asleep to eccentric Jack Stauber songs as he hugged the gigantic octopus plushie Logan had given to him on his birthday. There was a persistent burn in his eyes that only worsened as time passed by and his muscles ached so terribly to the point of cramping. His eyes were practically blurring after a few seconds of gazing at the sky, and he swore he felt frost nipping at the ends of his fingers and toes. Yet here he was, paddling himself across the lake using his feet as his hoodie became soggier by the second, ignoring every logical thought that screamed at him to go to bed.

Junji Ito’s works were always a source of unexpected comfort for Remus. Remus recognized it was probably suspicious that he felt at ease while reading mangas about demonic, gut-wrenching monsters, but as an avid fan of the cosmic horror genre, he was only exhilarated by the detailed yet unsettling drawings.

This was the reason why he made replicas of those mangas in his side of the Imagination. Many of his landscapes were dedicated to the fascinating monsters Ito was able to create. Sometimes, Remus’s ambitiousness took over and prompted him to create entire cities and towns with clueless civilians that inhabited the horrific establishments. Remus just liked to go wild and have fun, y’know? Amp the scare factor up to a hundred.

(He also took pleasure in witnessing Roman’s fearful face whenever one of his creatures trespassed his land. The occasion was rare but when it happened, Remus merely laughed at Roman devilishly.)

Remus breathed out deeply. The skies above were littered with spirals, each thick cloud hypnotically whorling as it passed by. The wind was also visible, each breeze being represented with curls and scrolls. The night slightly resembled Van Gogh’s “Starry Night” but in monochromatic colors, making the sky appear to be a more depressing clone of the painting.

Additionally, surrounding the lake were an abundant amount of trees, each of their leaves curling at the corners. Sometimes, the trees would give into this spiral disease and coil up on itself like a centipede that was just stepped on. Some peculiar creatures also hid within the helical greenery, all of them taking a peek at Remus from time to time. Remus only recalled witnessing boulder-sized snails and a stretched out human-snake hybrid traversing through their forest for today, but Remus didn’t expect any of his creations to be any real threats to him.

If Remus was being honest, he had expected more creatures to appear. Usually, some of the ghosts that inhabited the lake would arise and stalk Remus creepily but they didn’t even come out to play. The tornado siren that usually resonated daily didn’t alarm either, and there were no ear-piercing shrieks and terrified screams he could hear from a distance. Despite his environment still being undeniably terrifying, it was still pretty tame compared to Remus’s past visits.

Remus sighed. It didn’t matter, he supposed. As long as the buzz from the lake distracted his thoughts and the hypnotizing spirals in the sky continued to drift, it would all be fine.

Spirals, spirals, spirals. Just like how he was spiralling right now. He chuckled at himself for the stupid connection; Logan really got him used to doing pointless word association games.

Word association games. Logan. His lover, boyfriend, partner, whatever.

Remus raised his arms to rub his tired face. The soaked sleeves of his hoodie dripped the water unto his cheeks. He really did not want to think about Logan and the possibility of him becoming a—

He splashed his arms back onto the water furiously as he furrowed his lip.

Remus was never one to anxiously overthink a problem. More than anything, he caused problems and issues, purposely terrorizing the others just because he enjoyed it. There was never a moment in his life he felt overwhelmed by an issue, especially when he was only partially involved. But this— this was different. The entire atmosphere of the Mindscape can shift, relationships can absolutely be tarnished and destroyed, and he didn’t even know how this issue could directly affect Thomas.

Remus sighed— this was a mess. A complete utter disastrous mess.

“Remus?” a voice called from afar. Remus’s eyes widened as he recognized its owner. “Remus, do you know how long it took to fucking find you?” they continued, sounding obviously aggravated.

“Jannie? You came to find me?” Remus hollered back, flipping over so he remained standing upright in the lake. There in the distance stood Janus whose hair looked incredibly dishevelled as his cape was almost in tatters.

“Of course, you cretin. You haven’t been in your room since four and didn’t even come to eat dinner.” Janus told him, clearly upset. Remus only blinked at him in surprise. Janus sighed, “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice that you’ve been, er, floating about for ten hours straight?”

Remus shrugged mindlessly, only causing Janus to furrow his eyebrows. “What? Ten hours isn’t a big deal.”

“Remus.” Janus said scoldingly, holding a disappointed yet concerned gaze. “Have you eaten at all?”

“Been meaning to try the human-sized snails crawling around town. Did you know snails are rich in protein? Logan explained that some researcher in Africa or something discovered that eating snails could—”

“Again, have you eaten?” Janus interrupted.

“Does swallowing lake water count?” Remus asked.

“If you swim out of there, I’ll lend you some cake B made a while ago.” Janus said monotonically, and Remus quickly perked up.

“Why didn’t you say that in the first place, double dicks?” Remus said with a grin. Instead of swimming out of the lake, he snapped his fingers and teleported himself to the empty spot next to Janus. Janus’s face remained stoic and unmoving at Remus’s unkemptness and wet clothes as Remus simply grinned at him maniacally, clearly excited to be given the dessert.

After sighing, Janus grabbed a tupperware hidden beneath his cloak. How it was held securely in the cloak was a mystery, but he still handed the cake to Remus. “It’s red velvet, since he wanted to cheer you up.”

“Cheer me up?” Remus said while removing the tupperware’s lid, “He’s been apologetic about his outburst for what, two weeks, three weeks now? I mean, I guess it’s okay to be a greedy bitch when the opportunity is right there, but I still feel spoiled. Spoiled like… food.” Janus eyed him weirdly, “Like that milk carton that we abandoned in our fridge for ten months… uhm…”

“Seems like your creative juices are running low.” Janus told him as Remus shoved half of the cake into his mouth, “Firstly, we both know B is just like that, and secondly, this cake wasn’t something he made to add to his apology streak— he’s worried for you.”

Remus scoffed, “Worried? Why should he be—”

“Remus, your room is in disarray.” Janus told him with a concerned tone as the corners of his lips tilted downwards, “We’re not going to tiptoe around the issue here, Remus. He said you left a conversation with Logan frowning and the voices in your room suddenly intensified. I’m— we’re worried for you.”

Remus averted his gaze from Janus, chewing on the cake silently and shamefully as he watched the achromatic trees dance in sync to the breeze. Even while looking away, he can sense Janus’s heavy, unfiltered concern, staring at him with furrowed eyebrows, thinned lips, and nostrils slightly flared.

Even if Remus was fully aware that he could trust Janus and B wholeheartedly, Remus was still undoubtedly hesitant to confess what bothersome thoughts were floating around his head. Whenever Remus needed to ramble on about some stupid dilemma he had to Janus, he was always certain about the complexity of the problem and what it entailed. Pinpointing what his current issues were to Janus was usually not too difficult to do, but somehow, this was different.

His problem felt… convoluted. More complex than he needed it to be. There were a million rampaging thoughts in his head that couldn’t stop reminding him of different problems he couldn’t tackle all at once. Typically, he can find one problem that stood out amongst the rest, but presently, every identifiable problem seemed to be equally as dreadful as each other, leaving Remus incredibly perplexed. Being unable to pinpoint his main issue was further adding on to the multitude of problems he already had to deal with, and he was unsure of how he was going to explain all this chaos that was within his mind.

Remus felt his right arm being nudged. “Remus?” Janus spoke, causing Remus blinked thrice, not realizing he went quiet for a few minutes.

“Sorry,” replied Remus with a forced grin, shoving another piece of the cake into his mouth. The worry on Janus’s face manifested a feeling of guilt within Remus, gradually making him feel sorry that Janus had to put up with his patheticness.

“Remus, what time did you sleep last night?” Asked Janus, causing Remus to fiddle nervously with the skin around his fingernails. God, Remus regretted not bringing any sort of fidget toy or object for him to utilize— Logan’s going to scold him for this. “Actually, wrong question— it’s quite obvious that you didn’t sleep last night—”

“Don’t assume, Sweeney Fraud.”

Janus quirked an eyebrow, “Oh? Then, when did you sleep, my dear Mrs. Lovett?” Janus said confidently, fidgeting with his gloves as he did. Remus made a disgruntled expression, rolling his eyes at the question. He guessed there was no avoiding it now.

“I’m not good at math, but probably seventy to seventy-eight hours ago? Uhm. That’s three days, right?”

Janus placed his hand softly on the ground beneath him, “Remus, you couldn’t have possibly been awake for more than three days—”

“At least it wasn’t four whole days.”

“Remus,” Janus scolded him once more. Hearing Janus utter his name once more made him unexpectedly tense.

“What, seventy-eight hours is nothing compared to when we fucked for—”

Janus visibly grimaced, fists slowly clenching, “Ssssstop that,” he hissed, earning an entertained chuckle from Remus. “I don’t want to remember that— that phase we had.” he added, obviously flustered.

“But ah, that phase we had was just wonderful!” Remus exclaimed, doing a chef’s kiss. Janus’s hands flew to grip his hat and simply pulled it closer to his face, “Thomas’s teenage years were marvelously filled with hormone-induced fantasies and—”

“Remusssss—”

“God, we were such horny children back then, even if it only lasted for a week—”

“Remus!” Janus roared, looking excessively embarrassed at Remus, “I am not proud of the— the activities we did back then so can you please do me a favor and forget about that entire week—”

“Jannie, you already know that I bring this up annually just to piss you off.” Remus said with a smirk, “I mean, look at you— all crimson and flushed like when I—”

“Oh my god, shut up!” Janus yelled, “You’re insufferable.”

“And so I’ve heard,” Remus replied, grinning widely.

“All I wanted was to help you with your damn problems and all I get greeted with is a reminder of our horrid sex life when we were teenagers, thanks a lot.” Janus murmured, hands still clenching his hat in humiliation. Meanwhile, Remus’ grin faltered a bit upon realizing that right, they still had his problems to discuss.

“That’s what friends are for,” Remus replied, trying to mask his worry by winking at Janus enthusiastically. Janus merely rolled his eyes exasperatedly as a reply. “And I can handle my problems fine, J-anus. Just let me sulk here for another few hours, maybe I’ll duel one of those weird pregnant mosquito vampire creatures I’ve made—”

“—the what—?”

“—And maybe fall asleep around three or four? It’ll pass by then. I think. I dunno.” Remus finished with a nonchalant tone only to raise Janus’s suspicion. Remus froze at the sight of his disbelieving face— there was no chance in hell Remus would be able to lie in front of Janus, huh?

“‘You never pass the opportunity to vent when I ask you to.” Janus told him, consequently making Remus tilt his head in confusion. Janus sighed, “Well, I know you usually change the subject when I first bring it up, but upon the second or third request, you eventually do begin venting. What’s different about now?”

Remus was surprised that Janus had observed a pattern in their talks but was still unexplainably reluctant to share what was on his mind now. It would’ve been easier if he had Logan to talk to—he just made everything much easier, Remus didn’t know how that even worked—but Logan was involved with the issue and it just heightened his uneasiness even more.

“I— well,” Remus spoke, internally cringing at himself for the awful start, “God, I’ve been doing a lot of venting lately, is that even normal?”

“Better than duelling some pregnant vampire thingies or whatever the fuck you said earlier,” Janus replied, earning a half-smile from Remus.

“But I heard they put up a good fight, Jannie! Like, the townsfolk are saying they use drills as weapons while also having an insatiable thirst for blood—”

“Getting a little off-track here.”

“Ah— sorry.” Remus gave him an apologetic smile, “I’m just… very confused? Or anxious. Thoughts just swarm around my head like bees in a beehive and all of them keep buzzing,” Remus explained nervously. The tupperware and cake has long been abandoned as he continued to peel the skin around his fingernails instead, “And, uh, I don’t know where to start?”

“So you don’t know what’s bothering you?”

“Well, yes. And no.” Remus replied as he accidentally picked the skin around his thumb too harshly, causing a small trickle of blood to appear. Janus noticed this immediately, reaching out to pull Remus’s right hand away from his left.

“Don’t do that,” Janus instructed, causing Remus to huff at him agitatedly. Janus then sighed and unbuttoned his ruined cloak, handing it to Remus, “Some of your creatures clawed at the edges so you can play with the holes and loose threads instead if it means you’ll stop picking on your skin.” Janus explained, and Remus was about to protest until Janus continued, “I have more cloaks in my room, so destroy this one all you like.”

Remus gratefully accepted the cloak, following Janus’s suggestion and playing with the loose seams. “Thank you, uh,” Remus continued his tangent as he nervously pulled and plucked the strings, “Back to the thing— I kind of know what’s bothering me. Ish. Sorta kinda. Right now, I can probably identify ten— no, fifteen— or maybe twenty thoughts floating around that I could label as something contributing to my stupid dilemma.”

“But?”

“But I feel like there’s something I’m missing. A bigger problem I can’t seem to pinpoint— like that one episode Thomas made with the puppets! Er… I don’t know why I keep bringing up that one episode lately when honestly, it was such a terrible episode—“

“The Halloween one was worse, in my humble opinion.”

“Point taken. We could’ve made that episode ten times better, y’know? I feel offended they tried to make a scary episode without inviting us! If they really wanted to discuss Thomas’s embarrassing phases, we are quite the experts—“

“We’re getting off-topic again.”

“Fuck, sorry,” Remus said apologetically, “Where were we— oh right, the stupid bigger problem thing.” Remus huffed tiredly, “I feel so fucking bothered that I don’t know what’s bothering me which is making me even more bothered and more bothered and it’s just a fucking loop! A terrible cycle. A bothering one. Did I mention I’m so fucking bothered?”

“Then lay it on me.” Janus told him, and Remus tilted his head at him, slightly perplexed, “What I mean is— if we can’t identify the bigger problem at hand, then you can at least tell me about the problems you can identify. Maybe we can piece together what we’re missing here.”

“I swear to Jesus Christ that this is beginning to look like that puppet episode.”

“What’s your obsession with that damn puppet episode? We weren’t even in it.”

“I dunno, to be honest. I just like to shit on it a lot. Like, look at me, I have the same problems Thomas is having, yet I’m still villainized, for some goddamn reason. Maybe it’s the mustache? It’s gotta be the mustache.” Remus twirled the edges of his curled mustache as Janus merely shrugged.

“To be fair, you had a very violent introduction.”

“You know what? True. Probably should’ve gone with my ‘Breaking Through the Window’ plan—“ Janus opened his mouth, most likely about to interrupt Remus, but Remus immediately butted in first before he can be scolded again, “Yea, yea, I know, go back on topic, yadda yadda yadda.”

“I’m here to listen, so feel free to spill whatever you want to spill.” Janus replied, looking at Remus intently. Before Remus could express his lengthy spiel, he successfully ripped a certain portion of the cloak he was fiddling with. Sighing, he lowered the cloak, and gazed back at Janus. Janus was patiently waiting for him, and despite looking exhausted, Remus knew he was still going to listen. God, what did he do to deserve Janus?

“Well…” Remus started anxiously, twirling one of the loose threads between his fingers, “I already told you about the entire Logan ordeal.”

“Him becoming a—what’d they call it again—a ‘Dark’ Side?”

“Yep.” Remus affirmed, face scrunched up in discomfort, “Y’know like, I thought I’d be excited to see him here, but after much thought—which is funny since most of the time, I don’t overthink things—but anyway, after much thought, I just feel… dreadful. Like, this shit ain’t just Logan coming over here to visit. This has permanent consequences I didn’t even consider until now. I don’t even know how the other sides will react or— or if this’ll damage Thomas in any way.

“I know that Thomas would still be able to function— it isn’t like Logan is actually going to fade away or disappear. He’ll just be… neglected more. Gosh, his neglect is all my fault, isn’t it? I mean, I know that I should technically blame Thomas and the other sides for Logan’s gradual descent into becoming one of us, but maybe I should take part in the blame too since it’s my fault that he’s brought down here a lot. Maybe I— maybe I badly influenced him? Maybe his own problems and insecurities were created because of how much time he’s spent with me—”

“Now that’s—”

“Me, overthinking? Probably. But Logan is important to Thomas, he needs to be up there to be able to help Thomas the most. Maybe bringing him down here was a mistake on my part because now he’s just so willing to give up his position as a ‘Light’ Side. The other sides will condemn him, hurt him even more, villainize him like how I’ve been villainized. Logan’s going to get fuckin’ hurt because of my ass and I just, what, blindly allowed it to happen for the past few months? And now it’s too late to back out because, at any moment, he’s going to join us and all chaos will break loose.

“What if… what if him becoming part of our family is going to erupt a bigass fight between Logan and the others? Believe me, I’d love to see Logan go feral and slap the shit out of Patton, but I’m… scared? And it’s weird— I’m never really scared of anything. But I’m scared that there'll be a bigger divide between the ‘Light’ and ‘Dark’ Sides because of… well, me. And I know not everything is entirely my fault, but it’s still partially my fault, so I still feel so fucking terrible.

“And speaking of more problems that are partially my fault— there’s also B I have to worry about— and you! Like, I’m dragging you both into this mess just because I fell in love with some fucking nerd and now the other sides will hate you even more. I mean, Thomas doesn’t even know B, but I know those other sides are going to pin the blame on someone else like they always do, so we’re going to be antagonized more. And I don’t even know if B and Logan get along! Like, for all I know, I’m tearing our own family apart, because as far as I’m concerned, B would murder Logan if he got the chance to. But I can’t force him to be nice because I know it’s valid of him to get mad at Logan for all the shit that went down in Thomas’s teenage years, but I don’t know if that’s just going to hurt Logan and— agh!”

“Remus,” Janus spoke softly, snapping him out of his hysteria. As Janus carefully placed his hand atop Remus’ forearm, Remus had realized that in the midst of his incohesive rambling, he had successfully torn Janus’ cloak apart with his bare hands. Moreover, his eyes didn’t seem like the only thing that felt like burning as his lungs felt like it was being set ablaze with how labored his breathing has become. He could feel his shoulder shudder after every two quickened breaths and his eye twitch after every third.

“Sorry, sorry, I—”

“Enough apologies, I need you to breathe in—” Remus took a shaky inhale, “—and tell me five things you see.”

“Wh-what is this, that Frozen episode of Sanders Sides—?”

“Five things you see, Remus.” Janus repeated himself sternly, not allowing Remus to joke his way out of this situation.

In return, Remus clenched his jaw tensely, averting his gaze from Janus to eye the scenery before him. As he fiddled with the destroyed cloak’s tangled loose threads, he spoke apprehensively, “Uhm. The lake, obviously, and its spirals. That tree in the distance that’s coiling up unto itself as its leaves are disintegrating, uhm—” Remus paused to even out his breathing before his heart decided to jump out of his chest involuntarily, “There’s a— some smoke? In the distance? I think it’s from a funeral— they’ve been having a lot of those here nowadays. And there goes a gigantic snail, trying to avoid being preyed on by— by that snake-human hybrid thing.” he finished as the snake-human hybrid pounced onto the defenseless snail, “Ah well, at least he tried.”

Once Remus looked back at Janus, he realized how horrified he must’ve been judging by his raised eyebrows and extremely thinned lips. He must’ve been trying his best not to question any creature he witnessed in this hellish side of the Imagination, and Remus felt flattered that Janus still remained by his side despite the horrific surroundings. Janus eventually shook his head and avoided gazing at the snail being eaten by the snake creature. “Apologies, er, four things you can feel?”

Remus’s grip on the cloak suddenly tightened, “Well, obviously the cloak. Uhm, it’s strings—” Remus wiggled his bare feet that laid on the ground, “I could also feel the grass and— and some water. I don’t think I’ve dried up just yet.”

“Three things you can hear?”

“The snake-human hybrid feasting on the snail it just killed—” Remus heard a muffled disgusted sound from Janus but didn’t comment on it, “The wind too— I think a tornado’s coming. And—” Remus successfully punctured another hole onto Janus’s ruined cloak, “—cloth being ripped. Sorry about your cloak.”

“Apology not needed. Two things you can smell?”

“Mold. I think it’s coming from the lake. And I think that’s—” Remus sniffed, “—smoke? Could be dead bodies. I dunno. Staying here for too long made me lose the ability to differentiate bad smells.”

Janus slightly winced at Remus’s statement but continued on, “One thing you can taste?”

“Red velvet mixed with gross lake water.” Remus replied, gazing at the abandoned tupperware on his left. His stomach grumbled at the idea of finishing the cake but his hands were too preoccupied with cloak shredding that he didn’t bother with it at all.

“I have told you before and I will tell you again: I’m not one to sugarcoat things, especially when false comfort is never going to bring you anywhere.” Janus explained as Remus nodded in understanding, “But, while these problems are quite terrifying to deal with, they also are manageable with enough time and patience. There’s no avoiding the fact that Logan is going to be part of our side of the Mindscape soon— we honestly should’ve seen it sooner after witnessing all the neglect he’s been receiving. But through thorough planning and careful conversations with B and hopefully, Thomas, we can understand that these problems aren’t too complex at all.

“We both may be figments of Thomas’s personalities, but we are also human, despite, you know, our weird animal traits. These thoughts swarming around your head like to overcomplicate situations when they might not be as awful as they seem. Again, they’re all defeatable after careful planning, and I assure you that you have my support along the way. B and Logan are also there to share their support. And I know B— we both know B— he’s impulsive, but he isn’t stupid. I’m sure B has already overheard about Logan’s transition to our side and is trying his best to adapt. And Logan loves you, Remus, he will plan something, I’m sure of it.

“And as for you… well, there’s no avoiding that we all are at fault for this entire scenario, but you, out of every side in the Mindscape, has probably contributed the least to Logan’s neglect. But it’d also be useless to dwell on the idea further when Logan’s just about to transfer any time soon. Just understand that while we have made some mistakes in the past, we’ve also grown from them and have changed. And while I can’t fully speak on Logan’s behalf, it’s quite obvious that you’ve made his life much happier.”

Remus smiled sourly to himself, slowly processing everything Janus had just stated to him. “Thank you, Jannie,” he said, earning a smug grin from Janus. “I guess I just needed some rest.”

“With how overwhelming your thoughts are at the moment, you definitely need to rest. I don’t think you’re used to having ten million problems at once.”

Suddenly, a metaphorical lightbulb flashed within Remus’s head, eyes widening at Janus’s statement, “I— wait. Hold on. Maybe that’s the problem here!”

“Not resting? Well, yes, technically—”

“No, you idiot! I forget you lose your brain cells from time to time.” Remus commented, earning an irritated huff form Janus. “What I mean is— I’ve never been used to handling so many issues all at once. Like I…” Remus snapped one string off the cloth, “For all my life, I’ve been so complacent. The only issues I’ve ever dealt with were my intrusive thoughts and my insecurities and then, well, Thomas started reaching out to us more and... there was a shift. You understand me, right? Like, everything felt like it was changing once Thomas began to rely on the other sides more.

“I was never involved in any heavy issue. More than anything, I cause many problems without giving a shit about the consequences! And then Logan happened and everything just changed again. I was so used to not caring about anything that when every problem just started stacking up, I was... overwhelmed. It made me feel like I was responsible for everything, every little issue, and I felt like I was going to ruin everything.”

“But you were just not accustomed to juggling different issues all at once?”

“Right,” Remus replied. They stayed silent for a few moments, Janus letting Remus ponder about his newfound revelation. While a dull sense of relief settled within Remus, there was still a sense of disappointment that lingered around. He couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous this all was. The problem was just so… childish. Immature. Really fucking dumb. For someone who nagged on incessantly about how pathetic Thomas was for pampering himself and his viewers constantly, Remus was being such a pathetic wimp himself.

“This was all so stupid,” Remus murmured, impassively staring off into the distance. “I’ve eaten four bottles of Vicks, I’ve killed three boars with my bare hands, fuck, I’ve tried recreating every monster from the SCP Foundation universe and tried to fight them all in a single arena! And yet this is what bothers me? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Is it supposed to?”

Remus paused for a few, “Damn,” he said, slightly breathless, “you’re good at this. Can I hire you to be my therapist?” Remus joked, his lips forming a half-smirk.

“I thought I already was.” Janus replied, “I’ll expect payment in forms of self-care.”

Remus tilted his head with a displeased pout, “Ew. Too expensive— I never agreed to any of these terms and conditions. Can we rediscuss your bill policies?”

Before replying, Janus sighed and swiftly stood up. Remus gazed at him in confusion before Janus stretched out an arm in front of Remus, implying that he was going to bring him somewhere else. “Nope, and I think it’s time for you to start paying back.”

Remus’s eyebrows slanted inwards at the abrupt demand, somewhat urged to refuse Janus’s order immediately. Janus seemed to recognize Remus’s hesitance right away as he lowered his hand in annoyance, placing it on his hip.

“I don’t want to return to my room just yet.”

Janus quirked an eyebrow at him, “I didn’t say we were going to your room, Remus, I’m not a fool.” Janus explained, and that made Remus loosen up a bit. “I was going to ask if you want to sleep in my room for tonight.”

Remus’s eyes widened at the offer but was definitely not dismayed by the suggestion. Faint memories of him and Virgil discreetly sneaking into Janus’s room on sleepless nights flitted across his mind as a warm yet pleasant feeling of nostalgia bubbled in his chest. Remus reminisced about the times where Janus would tiredly extract the pull-out bed from underneath his own bed as he and Virgil would enthusiastically hop on the bed before Janus would sing them a soothing lullaby. While Virgil was mostly a taboo subject between him and Janus nowadays, those old memories still sparked some odd comforting feeling within Remus, and he couldn’t help but smile in fondness.

“Well,” Remus started, “why didn’t you begin with that, penis squared?” Remus added with a genuine grin, scrambling to get a hold of the torn cloak and the abandoned tupperware. Janus mirrored his smile, albeit slightly tired, and reached out again to pull Remus up.

Once up, Remus dusted off any dirt that soiled his green hoodie before standing next to Janus. “I’ll make sure to set up a playlist of soap crushing videos for you to fall asleep to. While I didn’t want to do much work, I did grab some pillows, plushies, and fidget toys in advance just so you don’t have to return to your room for the night. The only thing I can’t help you with is breakfast in the morning because even if I wanted to do something sweet, we both know that I’m a fabulous chef.”

Remus barked out a laugh, “I wouldn’t want you to cook anything for me either. I feed all your failed meal attempts to Cthulhu.”

“...Poor Cthulhu.”

“But still, thanks for everything else, mother.” Remus said, earning an eye roll from Janus, “Where would I ever be without you?”

“Probably dead in a ditch.”

Remus barked out another laughter, “To be fair, I think I’d rather be dead in a ditch than face any of the crap I’m dealing with now. I think the corpse germs would treat me far better than how Thomas is treating me now.” Remus joked in between forced laughs as Janus’s face quickly dropped. Remus’s laughter only stopped when he felt Janus’s scaly palm touch his forearm and thumb over it soothingly. Remus looked at his hand, then at Janus’s face. His eyebrows are knitted together in concern but his lips formed a small, calming smile.

“This’ll all pass soon, Remus. Everything will be okay,” assured Janus as Remus quietly blinked twice at the statement before his lip quivered involuntarily. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

With glossy eyes, Remus nodded, “Yeah, yeah, let’s go.”

#sanders sides #remus sanders #janus sanders #logan sanders #platonic dukeceit #intrulogical #fanfiction #my post

51 notes · View notes

highfunctioningflailgirl · 4 years

Text

Whumptober No.23

Hollow-eyed, Rios crossed the bridge to drop into the pilot seat. From the corner of his eye, he saw the Hospitality Hologram shimmering away, but he was too tired to voice his chronic annoyance with that particular crew member, and he secretly had to admit that he was grateful for the cup of tar-black coffee he found steaming within reach. He took a sip of the scalding hot liquid, desperate for a caffeine kick.

“Got any sleep?”

Rios hadn’t even seen Raffi, slumped as she sat in the navigator’s seat. She swiveled around to him with hanging shoulders, her curls wilder than ever, the rings under her eyes so dark they looked like bruises.

“No,” Cris sighed. “You?”

It was a rhetorical question, really, and Raffi huffed, pointing at her face. “Do I look like I slept?”

Fact was, none of them had slept in three days - except for Picard, who was out like a light in his quarters after the EMH had insisted on dosing him with a narcotic, worried about the old man’s heart. Sleep deprivation, he’d lectured them, could kill, and Rios was starting to believe him. Only that he was close to killing someone. Anyone, honestly. After nearly seventy-two hours of being trapped, with an offline engine, in a cosmic phenomenon that was somehow affecting their brainwaves, Rios was suffering from a very short fuse.

The most enraging part: While Raffi, Picard and him - the only human crew members on board at the moment - were turning into zombies, the holograms remained completely unaffected. Bright-eyed, and bushy-tailed, they zipped through La Sirena’s decks, running system checks and analyzing scans and fiddling with the ship’s engine, driving Rios crazy with their limitless energy and chipper mood.

Too bad that a hologram didn’t die when you choked it with your bare hands.

Rios threw a murderous glance at Emmet, the hologram currently slumbering in his seat in front of the tactical controls. He was the worst to bear, falling asleep in an instant as soon as his code told him he was sitting and no hostile activity required him to be awake. Feet propped up on the console, head tipped back and mouth open, he was currently snoring obliviously. And as a hologram, he didn’t even need to sleep.

Rios’ fingers involuntarily curled into claws.

“What is the nature of your psychiatric emergency?”

The EMH had materialized beside him and, hands in his pockets, was studying him with professional concern.

“You heart rate is elevated, your blood pressure is climbing, and your cortisol output-”

“Deactivate!”

“But Captain, I am…”

“Deactivate!”

The hologram disappeared with an affronted poof.

“Nice,” Raffi commented sardonically, chin propped up on a weary arm. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Cris meant to roll his eyes, but it would worsen his headache, so he left it. Scrubbing his hand across his face, he tried to knit a clear string of thoughts together in his increasingly unreliable brain.

“We need to get away from here, Raff,” he said darkly.

She blinked tiredly. “I know.”

And it was true. What had felt like a weird anomaly three days ago - their impulse and warp drive dying suddenly, then the insomnia - had escalated into a dangerous crisis. In spite of incessant work, they hadn’t been able to bring the engines back online, and they didn’t need the EMH’s lectures to point out the consequences of sleep deprivation. They felt them.

Physical exhaustion was the least of it. Cris could get past the headache, the soreness, the nausea and the dizziness. But the tricks the insomnia played on his mind were an altogether different thing. He could no longer concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes, and his short term memory had gone to fritz. It was bad enough that the tiredness was affecting his eyesight, causing the EMH to suggest reading glasses and almost getting his programming wiped by an infuriated Cris. But now he was starting to see things.

Hallucinations. They were a well-known but nevertheless deeply disturbing side-effect, and Cris, all too familiar with the phenomenon from his breakdown after the Ibn Majid disaster, was once more stalked by demons he thought he’d laid to rest. Captain Vandemeer had visited him in his quarters when he’d been staring into the darkness last night, sleepless, but too exhausted to remain on his feet. The top of his head gone, blood and brain matter dripping from the ceiling, Vandemeer had looked at Cris with opaque eyes, and it had taken half a bottle of Pisco to make him disappear.

Rios punched a button on his holographic controls.

“Ean!” He barked. “Status report!”

“We’re still offline, Cap’n,” came the instant reply. “But Enoch thinks he may be on to something. There’s a pattern of sub-photon waves that seems to be targeting the temperature sensors with galandrion radiation, effectively-”

“Only the bottom line, Ean,” Cris cut him off. His brain had shot down after “sub-photon waves”, unable to process anything more complicated than a spaghetti recipe.

“Bottom line?” Ean repeated. “We’re working on it, Cap’n.”

“What Ean means,” Enoch picked up, flickering into existence on the bridge with an avid expression, “is that we think we’re close to solving the problem. Now, if the scan check that I reprogrammed to include sub-photonic and pseudo nano-neurologic patterns reveals that not only the temperature sensors but also the newtonian reverse weight-speed effect of-”

“Callate!”Cris shot up from his seat. “Shut the fuck- Jesus!”

He’d closed up to the ENH in two strides, right fist pulled back to punch, and he’d managed to rein himself in only at the very last moment. He shook out his arms, trembling, trying to get rid of the tension and the shock he felt at his near loss of control.

Eyebrows raised in innocent wonder, Enoch cocked his head.

“Captain?” he asked kindly. “Would you like me to re-activate Emil? I am sure he could provide you with a sedative, if you’d like.”

Rios shot around again, blood boiling. All of a sudden, the bridge’s ambient lights felt too bright, and the cluster of stars visible through the panoramic window seemed to move forward, speeding up, threatening to attack and swallow La Sirena.

“Emmet!” Cris yelled. “Deflector shields!”

The ETH jerked awake and blinked at his screens in confusion. “Que? No veo nada.”

Raffi had gripped the arms of her seat and was looking at Rios in alarm.

“Babe,” she said anxiously and got up. “There’s nothing out there. You have to… Here.” She grabbed his arm and tried to lead him back to his chair. “Here, sit down.”

“What?!”

Rios glared at her. Raffi’s face looked strange all of a sudden. It… reshaped. Her hair shrank back into her skull, getting shorter, smoother… white. Her skin brightened, nose widening, her eyes morphing from brown to blue. Stubble appeared, and her clothes… his clothes… a Starfleet uniform with a captain’s badge.

“Sit down, son.”

Vandemeer. Intact, smiling paternally, he gently led Rios to his seat and sat him down.

Then, still smiling, he lifted a phaser, put it in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

Rios screamed, and he was still screaming when the EMH put a hypospray to his neck and cut his strings.

XXX

“Coffee, babe?”

Rios blinked a veil of deep sleep from his eyes. When his vision sharpened, he saw Raffi’s hand in front of him, balancing a cup that smelled of heaven.

He sat up and stretched before he took the coffee, looking around his cabin. He felt rested, and, to his surprise, he heard the familiar hum of La Sirena’s impulse drive propelling the ship through space at cruising speed.

“We’re back online?”

“Yes. Three days ago.”

“Three days ago?!” Rios almost spilled his coffee. “How long was I out?”

Raffi smiled, but there was an uncomfortable edge to it. “Three and a half days.”

“Dios.”

He racked his brain, memory creeping back in. Memory - and shame. Scratching his beard, he looked at Raffi with unease.

“It was pretty bad, huh?”

“Pretty.” She nodded. Then she placed her hand on his arm and rubbed it gently. “But you weren’t the only one. I cracked a few hours after Emil put you out. He says I was trying to open the cargo hatch to take a walk.”

Cris lifted astonished brows. “Good idea.”

Raffi’s worried face softened into a chuckle. “Not one of my best. I’m glad your holos were there to stop me. They’re not entirely useless, you know?”

“Right.” Cris smirked. God, he hadn’t felt this rested in ages. “Not entirely. But please don’t go and tell them I agreed with you on that. Enoch will never stop rubbing it under my nose.”

As if on cue, the EMH materialised at the foot of Rios’ bed.

“Captain Rios,” he said. “I am pleased to see you awake! And your brain waves have returned to a normal pattern. Now, if I could ask you to meet me in sickbay for a thorough scan of your neural-”

“Deactivate!”

Raffi smiled as the hologram begrudgingly dissolved.

“You ready to come back to the bridge, Captain?” she asked Rios, the twinkle back in her eyes. “Or do you need more sleep?”

Cris swung his legs from the bed.

“Sleep is overrated,” he said sardonically and headed off to take a shower.

#whumptober2020 #whumptober #star trek picard #aramis in space #cristobal rios #raffi musiker #sleep deprivation

11 notes · View notes

an-avid-reader · 4 years

Photo

The Hate U Give - Angie Thomas

my rating: 5/5 stars

On the night of a party gone wrong in Garden Heights, or “the hood”, Starr and her childhood best friend, Khalil, drive away only to be stopped by a white police officer. Khalil, unarmed, gets shot right in front of Starr’s eyes. Alas, Starr’s worlds—Garden Heights and Williamson, a predominantly white prep school—collide as word of Khalil’s death spreads and she is the only witness. Will Starr be able to bring justice to Khalil via riot and protests, or will he be remembered as a drug dealer and a thug?

"Funny how it works with white kids though. It's dope to be black until it's hard to be black"

Link to Goodreads || Spoiler-free review

A few things to check out:

Dear White People (Netflix)

When They See Us (Netflix)

Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People About Race (Book)

A list of places to donate to / one YT video if you’re unable to donate

Here’s a post that is much more comprehensive

let me know if any of the links don’t work, I will update them :)

There’s a reason why this book has quite a few awards on the front—this book covers what some may consider a “taboo” topic aka racism, but it’s an issue. I’m writing this review slightly earlier than before I’m posting it, but right now the current news is about George Floyd’s death, which is arguably more brutal than what happened in this book, but the fact that some police officers still think race has something to do with one’s intentions is outrageous and disgusting. Even in Canada, there have been instances of racism across history (spoiler: Canada isn’t a ‘saint nation’, even though the population is very diverse).

For these reasons, I think this book, while it is triggering, I think it should be fit into the curriculum for students to read so that they may be educated on racism, and how it can literally kill others, as well as to try and dismantle the systematic racism that is imposed on us from a young age. I can never sit here and tell you that I can experience what Starr went through (or what any POC—black or otherwise—has ever been through), I can only educate myself and emphasize with what’s been said/done to you—please call me out if I’ve said something that may be offensive and feel free to correct me if I’ve said anything wrong.

Alright now on with the book review! This book is so raw and powerful, Thomas does a great job of describing the scenes and the emotions Starr goes through during each scene. We get to see how she feels about dating a white boy while being black herself, how her neighbourhood is beautiful despite it being described as the hood, we also get to see how Starr’s demeanor completely changes while she’s at school vs when she’s visiting her family. While Thomas’ writing may be simple, she does a great job of capturing those moments and the emotions tied within the scene.

As we get to see Starr becoming a witness and taking legal action, I wasn’t sure where the story was headed. Would Khalil get justice and would the cop go to jail? How would Starr’s mental health be affected? Will her family be okay? (Don’t you just love it when there’s so much more conflict in the story that needs to be resolved and yet there are only 2 chapters left) Etc. etc. The thing about The Hate U Give is that there are multiple story lines, which help to drive the story forwards. Those plotlines didn’t feel out of place or forced—everything seemed to progress at a reasonable pace.

I feel like one of the key parts of this story are the characters and their dynamics to the story. The most obvious being between Starr and her family. Although Starr has her own secrets that she keeps from her dad (*cough cough* Chris *cough cough*), I feel like they still have a strong bond, especially as the story went on and her dad, Maverick, stood behind Starr, even when things went south. (I could also 100% relate to Starr bickering with her brothers—even her half-brother). Then there’s Chris, which I kinda feel weird about him...which I feel like it’s a spoiler so I’ll talk about it under the cut. Overall, I’m glad that while he doesn’t understand what Starr has been through, he doesn’t judge her—he listens to her story and he also stays by Starr’s side at all times. I appreciate that Thomas didn’t put too much focus on the romance, otherwise I think it would’ve detracted from the main message. Finally, there are Starr friends. Even though we only got to know Khalil for a bit at the beginning, I like that Starr’s friendship with him was sprinkled throughout the story, even if it was in subtle ways. You could tell that, while their friendship may have fallen apart, Starr really cared for him and he was at the forefront of her mind. We also get to see Maya and Haliey’s friendship with Starr...and I can’t talk much about that without spoilers :/ let’s just say...it was interesting…

While I can’t exactly relate to Starr on an emotional/traumatic/life experience level, I love that we are both Harry Potter fans and she runs a Tumblr (which idk why but I’m always taken aback when books have Tumblrs?? Yet here we are). I appreciate that she tries to see the best in people, until they prove her wrong (or give her a reason to not like them). I think Starr is a strong role model in the sense that she stands up for herself and is determined to get justice, although she’s not cocky about it. It’s quite the opposite, she doubts herself—I just remember that there were so many parts where she blamed herself for not recalling every single detail of the incident or not putting emphasis on the type of person Khalil was to avoid him getting stereotyped. Starr also questioned her relationship with Chris, albeit she seemed a bit naive at some points. Because of Starr’s strong personality and her core values, the message of The Hate U Give is so much stronger, hence why I feel like everyone should read this novel.

Finally, I learned a lot from this novel. Regardless of the fact that this is a fictional book, it is very much based on the realities of Black people and the hardships they must endure on a daily basis. To be honest, I feel so dumb for not even realizing that the title spells out THUG and runs parallel with Tupac’s meaning of THUG LIFE. Mind you, now when I look at the cover, it’s all I see. I also didn’t realize that Black kids and teens are taught how to act around the police—all to be avoided to get arrested, shot, or killed—which is frankly, messed up. Thomas also takes the time to address the names she used, intentionally to give another layer of the book, which I feel that it is based on reality. I can definitely see why this book has received so many awards—and if this book were implemented in schools, it would allow the discussion on racism to be opened and it would also allow kids to see that not all authors are white, old men (looking at you, Shakespeare, which tbh the only good play I read was Macbeth).

I wanted to thank you for reading my review; if you’ve read this book, I’d love to know your thoughts. Below the cut, I have a spoiler section that I wanted to include (which I might add in future reviews, idk though).

Please stay safe and healthy,

~ Cassandra / an-avid-reader

THE REMAINDER OF THIS REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS

Okay, I’m not going to lie, but I thought that no one knew about Chris; didn’t Starr mention within the first few chapters that she can’t introduce him to her family because she’s afraid of what they’ll say/judge her for dating a white boy? But then, it turns out it’s just her dad that doesn’t know about him??? Idk if my memory is really that bad or if it’s such a slim detail (maybe it actually is an inconsistency o.O). But anyways, I love how Maverick was just playing with him (and making it clear that Chris would be in big trouble if he hurt Starr). I’m also not sure if he has a fetish for Black women (which Starr also pointed that out)—which I don’t know how to feel about that. I know some people have a thing for people of colour (Asians are commonly a fetish too, for example) but then some guys also have a thing for super short girls? Um yeah. I’ll probably leave it at that.

I’m not sure if it was just me, but I deadass thought Seven was going to be a gangbanger. He was sooooo suspicious anytime King was mentioned (which I get King is with Seven’s biological mom, but still I can’t be the only one who was suspicious, right?). I have to give him props though for putting his sisters’ needs before his own and for also listening to Iesha’s point of view. This man doesn’t give on people easily, and that’s a nice change.

The last thing I wanted to include in this spoiler section is Haliey. I just— wtf man. She perfectly embodies the issue and idk she gave me such Karen vibes. It’s so frustrating that she just accepted the newspaper’s article story at face value—I don’t even think she even took the time to listen to the other point of view. I’m so glad that Starr punched her in the face, even though that resulted in her getting in trouble. And it’s not even towards just Starr that she was racist! When Maya opened up about Haliey’s comments, I was pretty infuriated. I think Haliey’s comments came from a place of ignorance or a lack of education, but it just bothered me that she just brushed it off. Smh “it was just a joke” or “get over it” *rolls eyes* Just apologize, Haliey, and educate yourself, please. Actually, maybe she could take lessons from Mr. Warren, their english teacher because he was lowkey a G. I was pleased to see he was a teacher (who are often seen as role models) that actually gave a crap about Starr and what she was going through. I guess we just need to be more attentive to what people have to say and be more empathetic when they’re hurt.

#just one more ~ queue #book review #the hate u give #angie thomas #blm #black awareness #booklr #reading #read #favourite

31 notes · View notes

worryinglyinnocent · 4 years

Text

Fic: Moving On

Summary: Coming out of a bad relationship leaves Belle fearful to move on and start another with the shy Mr Gold, someone she recognises as sharing her own plight. Dr Hopper helps out in his own way.

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt: "We accept the love we think we deserve."

Rated: T

CW: Past domestic abuse

===

Moving On

We accept the love we think we deserve.

Belle is no stranger to that acceptance. She has done her share of accepting the love she thinks she deserves, the love that she thinks she is worth. The love that is not really love, but that calls itself love in order to dig its claws in and make her believe that she cannot accept any other form of love, that this is the only type that she will ever be worthy of.

She has accepted that love, the false love that hurts and harms and weasels its way into her head to tell her that this is the love she deserves. She is broken and incomplete and as such she deserves a broken and incomplete love. She does not deserve something pure and unconditional, so she accepts what she can get, the littlest scraps of affection in the midst of the toxic mire that she found herself sprawled in the middle of.

It’s only what she deserves, after all, he says. She should be grateful for anything that she can get, as broken and unloveable as she is. After all, it’s not as if anyone else is going to give her anything better.

In hindsight, she knows that’s why it took her so long to leave that love that wasn’t really love. The fear that anything was better than nothing and she would never find another offer. It took a lot of time and clarity of mind to see that the twisted version of love that he had always given her was not, in fact, better than nothing. Nothing would definitely be better than that.

At least, it wouldn’t be any worse.

She feared never finding love again, and she feared what kind of love she might find. It’s been so long since she knew what true love really is, so long since love did not come with a price tag or a condition, so long since she didn’t have to beg for scraps of tenderness like a puppy.

(He literally made her beg like a puppy once. He thought it was cute.)

Because after all, she’s spent so long being told that she’s not worthy of anything other than cruelty that naturally it’s going to have a lasting effect. On the surface she knows it’s not true, but deep down, the wounds received from that last love are still there, and they fester.

Belle wants more than anything to be healed, to be whole, to be worthy of love. Proper love, true, unconditional love.

Dr Hopper tells her that she is worthy of love in any guise, that she does not need to present a perfect facade to the world in order to be accepted. She does not need to perform or conform.

Belle knows that it’s true, but sometimes it’s hard to remember, and she has to play his words like a mantra over and over in her head. You are worthy of love. You should be loved the way you are.

Up until Baeden Gold moves to town, Belle does not think that love will be on her radar again. She wants to be loved, she wants to find love, but she is not ready for the work that finding love entails, and she still does not think that love will find her, not in the state that she’s in.

But then Baeden Gold moves to town, and more importantly, his father moves to town.

It’s Baeden that Belle sees more than his dad, at first. He’s a bright and precocious child, an avid bibliophile who shares her passion for stories and loves to talk about books more than anything. He’s a regular at the library’s story time and checks out new books every week, always eager to discuss them with her. His father stays on the sidelines, hidden in the shadows of the stacks, trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. When their eyes do meet, a nervous half-smile flashes over his face for a brief second before he slips away, like a deer caught in the headlights, and Belle has to wonder, because she knows that reaction all too well.

It’s the terrifying thought of being seen, being judged, being known to be less than ideal and less than perfect. Oh, she knows that very well indeed, and she wonders how she can tell Mr Gold that it’s all right, that she’s just as broken as he is and there is no need to be alarmed or ashamed.

One night after Baeden has come into the library and Belle has exchanged half-smiles with Mr Gold, she lies awake, staring at the ceiling and wondering how she can apply Dr Hopper’s advice so well to Gold, but not to herself. Why does she hold herself to a higher standard than everyone else around her?

She knows the answer, of course, deep down inside, but she prefers not to think about it, tamping down all of those negative emotions. Now is not the time for them, not when she is beginning to think seriously about the possibility of moving on with her life and discovering something new, of discovering friendships, and maybe more than friendships, that will help her to grow rather than holding her back.

Belle wonders just how well she has read Mr Gold. She recognises her own victimhood in other people now that she has escaped from her own situation, but she would hate to be drawing erroneous conclusions based on his behaviour. She doesn’t exactly want to use his son as a go between, but Bae is always happy to talk to her, and perhaps she can garner a little more information about the familial status that way.

She shakes her head. No, if she wants to get to know Mr Gold better, then she’s going to have to take that first step herself. She is going to have to do the brave thing, and maybe once she’s done that, the bravery will come. She did not feel at all brave when she had first left that toxic love behind, but she came through it and she knows that in the end, with enough help and guidance from Dr Hopper, she’ll be all right. She will recover. Her bravery will have paid off.

Maybe it can do so again, even if she’s not feeling very brave at all right now.

She can do this.

Belle waits patiently for Bae and Mr Gold’s next visit to the library, but her mind is on a rollercoaster ride as she tries to work out the best way of beginning their interaction. Ultimately, when Bae comes to return his books, his father waiting in the shadows of the stacks like always, she chickens out at the last minute, exchanging their usual little half-smiles but not venturing out from behind the desk to talk to him. The old fears and doubts have started nagging at the back of her mind again. She’s broken, too broken to be worth anything, too broken to find someone new. The feeling gnaws at her, even more so because she knows that she thinks no less of Mr Gold for whatever cracks there might be in his own veneer.

Dr Hopper picks up on her indecision during their next session. He doesn’t call her on it. He calls her out on her destructive thought patterns and always helps her to put a healthier mechanism in place, but this time, he doesn’t state anything explicitly. He simply gives her a knowing look and asks a question that is both disarmingly easy and deceptively difficult to answer.

“Is there anything else that you want to talk about today, Belle?”

It would be easy to say no and leave it at that, but Belle knows that her quandary is clearly written all over her face, and she knows that Dr Hopper will know that something’s up, even if she doesn’t tell him in as many words.

She sighs. He’s here to help her after all, and maybe he can provide the impetus that she needs to let go of this baggage holding her back and take a leap of faith.

“I’ve met someone,” she says. “I’ve met someone, and I want to get to know him better, but I get the feeling that he’s like me. He’s been hurt and he’s scared of moving on. And I want to let him know that it’s ok, that I’m not going to judge him, but I can’t do that if I can’t even tell myself that. How can I let someone else know that they deserve happiness when I don’t believe it for myself?”

Dr Hopper takes a moment to digest this, and thinks before he speaks.

“There are a lot of schools of thought that will tell you that you can’t love someone else until you love yourself, or various iterations upon that theme. I don’t necessarily buy that myself. You have a lot of self-esteem issues, Belle, which you have made wonderful progress on in the time that I’ve been seeing you, but I know that you are a naturally friendly and affectionate person and you have a lot of love to give. So I think that there’s a lot of scope for you to go out and get to know this person better.”

He polishes his glasses on the edge of his sweater vest before he continues. “Yes, it is important for you to be aware of your self-worth before embarking on a relationship. It’s important to have a sense of self, or you’ll find that the relationship becomes unhealthy very quickly, if you’re so focussed on the other person that you begin to lose yourself. But that’s why I’m here; that’s why your friends are here. It would be a terrible thing indeed for us to stop you from moving on with your life and stop you from beginning new friendships and relationships based upon your relationship with yourself. If you think that you’re ready to start afresh, then we’ll help you to do that. And of course, the more that you apply my advice to other people, hopefully, the more you’ll begin to believe it yourself.”

Belle nods. “Yes. I think I’m ready. Thank you, Dr Hopper.”

Their session comes to an end, and Belle steps out of the office, startling as she does so, because Mr Gold is there in the waiting room.

He looks just as surprised to see her as she is to see him, and for a moment, the air is thick with awkwardness and embarrassment.

But then Belle holds her head high, and after a while, Mr Gold does too. There’s no shame in seeking therapy, for either of them.

“It’s, erm, lovely weather we’re having,” Mr Gold says eventually, very pointedly making no mention of the fact they’ve bumped into each other in the therapist’s office. Belle glances outside at the warm sunshine.

“Yes, it is. Would you…” She falters, but she’s determined to push through. Nothing about this is planned, but she knows that if she were following some kind of grand plan, then it would all be falling down around her ears anyway. Going in with a wing and a prayer is perhaps the best idea after all. “Would you maybe like to get ice cream later and enjoy the weather?”

“I…” He too falters, his deer in the headlights look back again, and for a moment, Belle wonders if he’s about to run for the nearest bolthole.

Then she hears the soft click of Dr Hopper’s office door opening.

“Cameron? Oh, I’m sorry, Belle, I didn’t realise that you were still here. I’ll leave you two in peace for a moment. Come in whenever you’re ready, Cameron.”

He lingers in the doorway for just a second longer, and Belle sees the moment that Mr Gold - Cameron - pulls his courage together with Dr Hopper’s encouragement.

“I’d like that, Miss French.”

“Shall we say four o’clock?”

Mr Gold nods, and the date is set. Belle feels like she’s walking on air as she steps out into the sunshine, and she wonders if Dr Hopper realised that she was talking about Mr Gold when she was speaking about her dilemma.

She wonders if Mr Gold has been talking about her in his own sessions.

It’s such a strange thing to have brought them together, but in the end, Belle thinks that it’s fitting. They evidently have a lot of baggage between them, and it will take a while for them to get going and trust each other, and more importantly themselves, to make a go of this. It makes sense that they might need some help along the way to see the important things, to see past their own negative thoughts getting in the way of finding new, true love.

She’s certain that with Dr Hopper’s help, they’ll get there.

#A Monthly Rumbelling #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #Belle French #Mr Gold #Archie Hopper #relationship beginnings #domestic abuse cw #Fic: Moving On

33 notes · View notes

epochxp · 3 years

Text

Epoch Xperience Interviews Nordic Weasel Founder, Ivan Sorensen

Mr. Sorensen needs no real introduction to many miniature wargamers. His company, Nordic Weasel Games, has taken the historical miniatures gaming world by storm, and he’s become the force on Wargames Vault. His formula of “substance over flash” has produced good games for a very reasonable price, and he has taken full advantage of PDF technology to produce a quality product one can buy and have in your (virtual hands) the next day.

Without further ado, I give you Ivan Sorensen:

Biography

My name is Ivan Sorensen, and I am a game designer and self-publishing writer of miniatures games, as well as the odd role-playing game. Under the moniker of Nordic Weasel Games, I have worked as a game writer for close to 7 years.

I am an avid player of board games, miniatures games, role-playing games, video games, and anything else I can get my hands on. I have spent half my life on this planet in Denmark, where I was born, and half in the United States, where I currently reside. I am married, have one kid and two cats named Scruffy and Lancelot.

Unlike a lot of historical games writers, many of my formative miniatures gaming experiences actually came from science fiction games, so I suppose that has given me a little bit of a different perspective.

So, how did you get started in writing rules? Was there an “aha” moment, or did you fall into it?

At the risk of sounding cheesy, I have basically always created little dice and board games for myself, using Lego pieces or other things that we had available, usually based on video games I had read about in magazines or other ideas like that.

When I was 12 or so, I remember getting a copy of White Dwarf magazine from a local gaming club I had joined, and it blew my mind. We had some limited exposure to the idea of space marines and all these things from the Milton Bradley Hero Quest and Space Crusade board games, but the idea of battle games played without a board, using miniatures and dice was too much to resist. I knew I had to get into this, and as I had no money for it, I sat down to write a game I could play with my Space Crusade figures, which would look as much like what I imagined Warhammer 40.000 would be like.

Since then, I had pretty much always been the “rules guy” in the gaming groups I was part of, whether we were playing miniatures games or RPG’s, so it just came naturally over time, I suppose. As I got access to the internet and later got access to ordering things from the UK or US, I devoured every game I could get my hands on and was even remotely interested in.

The start to writing games that were any good was my own attempt at creating a World War 1 game system (titled Trench Storm). I had shared it online, and to my great surprise, it began catching people’s attention and got a (very) small following, with people even purchasing miniatures to play it. Eventually, I was contacted by the US distributor for IT Miniatures, who offered to print it to promote their 20mm figure range. The rest is, as they say, history. Once in a great while, a copy of that game still pops up on eBay, it seems!

How did Nordic Weasel Games come to be?

So that story took place right around the time I moved to the United States. After moving, I had a lengthy period where I did not have my work permit yet, so game writing seemed like an obvious distraction, resulting in Fast and Dirty, a sci-fi rules set that you still see mentioned online here and there.

As the years went on, I kept tinkering and building things but mostly for my own enjoyment. Sometime during the fall of 2013, I started seriously working on a new game system for WW2 skirmish actions that I felt had some real potential to go places. At the time, I worked at a relatively dead-end middle management job at an incredibly toxic information technology company. You know the sort of job, where you have been there for too long, and you hate every minute of it.

Come the spring, I decided to take a gamble that I could make enough money from game sales to make it worth pursuing and quit. I figured if I could find a way to do it without putting money on the line, then if it all bombed, I could just walk away and find something else to do in life.

Consequently, Five Men in Normandy was released on June 15, 2014, and as of today, we are still here!

What is in the future for Nordic Weasel?

Hopefully, many big things! The biggest priority for 2021 specifically is to get into print books, though there are a lot of stumbling blocks in terms of layout requirements and so on.

I always keep a list of projects I would like to do, though I try not to talk about them too much in case they fall through. I am the sort of guy who always starts with 20 ideas, so by the time the unworkable ones have been weeded out, there are 2 or 3 left.

What I can say is that I am actively looking at fantasy miniatures battles, and I would love to do more WW1 and Black Powder era gaming material.

The real big question is that I am also very much at a point where there are just too many things to do it all alone. I cannot write 4 or 5 new games, support an entire back catalogue, and update old titles all by my lonesome, so I look forward to trying to solve that in the future. I suppose this is a good problem to have, but it is certainly also an intimidating one!

Is there a period of history you want to write rules for but have not?

We have worked extensively with the two world wars and the black powder era in general, as well as 20th century-to-modern era battles, and with Knyghte, Pyke and Sworde we even delved into medieval warfare.

The one that stands out as something that would be fun to do is World War 1 air combat, complete with goggles and scarf flapping in the wind. A little romanticized sure, but great fun, and there is a lot of fantastic models available.

For a historical era I have not touched on at all, I would say that while I have done games that cover it among other 19th century conflicts, a dedicated American Civil War set is something I would be very keen to do.

There are a lot of fantastic rules out there for the period, of course, but I feel like the “Weasel” approach of being solo-friendly and campaign-oriented could carve out a nice space of that market. Plus, I find the era quite fascinating. Growing up in Denmark, I was never really raised with a particular view of the conflict, but having married into a proud Vermont family, it is, of course, unavoidable.

Can you tell our readers what goes into rules writing?

I think this is something that is intensely personal, and the rationale for writing something can be varied: It may be due to sensing an opening in the hobby space that does not seem to be catered to currently. It may be that I have a personal passion for a given setting or era, or it may simply be that I have a clever game mechanic and want to build a game around it.

The process for me usually starts with sketching out a page or two of keywords, mechanics, and things I’d like to hit on a notepad. Then I work on building it out with simple sketches for the main areas of the mechanics: Activations, movement, shooting, morale, and so forth. Basically, carving out the cornerstones of the game system. At this stage, it is entirely possible it feels like it’s not going anywhere, and it goes in the bin.

If the core idea seems to have merit in this skeleton form, it’s time to test it out with some generic troops and see if it actually feels fun on the table. From there, you just build out from it: Get other people to read and play it, read it out loud to yourself, etc. Figure out what parts need ironing out and improving and which are good.

It is really all an iterative process. Once I know the game has legs to stand on, I start writing out the table of contents in advance, so I can “fill in the blanks” as I go. If I know I am going to have a section later for off-map support, I can keep that in mind when I am developing each piece of the mechanics and so forth.

Eventually, any project hits “The Suck (TM).” This is whatever part you hate doing the most, whether it is layout or proofreading or points systems or whatever. For me, it is terrain rules, funny enough. I never read that section of a rulebook, and I never enjoy writing it, but you must. “The Suck” is where your game will probably die because if you let it overcome you, you will put the book down, and every time you click on the word processor, you will immediately be faced with it. The best way to defeat “The Suck” in my experience is caffeine and not letting up: When it starts rearing its ugly head, it is time to keep going and don’t stop until you are through with it.

Has desktop publishing and PDF only supplements changed the face of the hobby? Has it affected the quality of the product we see today?

Absolutely yeah. It’s not that long ago that a game being available in PDF was a novelty, whereas today, if a game is NOT available in PDF, you are going to lose sales.

I think the barrier of entry has also dropped dramatically. Even a basic word processing package can churn out a PDF document that you can distribute online or sell. Of course, with proper page layout software, you can achieve much greater results (as some of my friends are rarely missing a chance to tell me), but you need to examine what your skill limit is. Any tool has a skill cap, to borrow a video game term. If you are not currently good enough at what you do to push up against the limitations of your software, burning 200 dollars on new apps will not make your books any better.

It is funny, though, because the wargaming field is so diverse in the type of things we see. You can pick up relatively big-name games that are incredibly plain-looking: Black and white, no art, rudimentary layout. Then right next to it, you see a PDF that is full-color, original artwork, and gorgeous. And the two can be viewed as equal value to the audience.

Of course, eye candy DOES sell, but I think once you are beyond the Warhammer circles, gamers become a lot more content-focused.

What are your favorite historical periods and why?

The 19th Century, the two world wars and the Russian Civil War.

Really, the whole era from circa 1910 to 1925 or so is fascinating to me: It is, of course, the transition of the old, romanticized world to the world of modern warfare, as well as being incredibly diverse in the sort of things you can see. The Russian Civil War sees tanks and armored cars, partisan bands, nationalist militias, Red and White guards, Cossack cavalry armies, Anarchists, and anything else you can shake a stick at. It is really a wargamers heaven for finding odd units to model up on the gaming table.

Honestly, my love of history, in general, comes from one source: “All Quiet on the Western Front.” I think anyone with a passion for history has that moment where they realize that history is not about abstract concepts and kings and dates but is about real people who lived and breathed and had dreams and hopes. “All Quiet” was that for me, and it left a life-long impression on me when I read it as a teenager a few years from the age of the characters in the book.

What do you see for the future of historical miniature wargaming?

Oof, that is a dangerous question. I think I managed to predict the rise of “Warband” level games (games where you play a small force in skirmish actions and with some level of character progression between games). Right now, that idea has set the fantasy and sci-fi miniatures scenes on fire, with everyone churning out their own version of the concept.

In historical gaming, there are elements of it, but it has not been embraced to the same extent, possibly due to the grognard bias against skirmish games. I think if I had to put money on something, I would say watch out for historical skirmish games with campaign aspects or character progression in the next year or three.

I also think solo gaming is going to continue to gain in popularity and respectability, with more games developed primarily or even specifically for solo play. I am super excited to see this field because there is a lot of things that can be done here with how enemies arrive on the table, fog of war, and so forth, which is not possible in a conventional opposed game.

Playtesting, how important is it?

Very, but it’s also very misunderstood. I see people post all the time on forums about how they have been testing their game rules for 5 years. That sounds very impressive, but if you are only getting together 3 or 4 times a year in that time frame, you are basically starting over each time. Additionally, just playing the game with your own group is fine to iron out the basic problems of a game, but it will lose its value very quickly.

To get actual feedback, give the game to people who cannot ask you questions and let them figure it out. Now your text must stand on its own feet and must work without you being there to explain the intentions. That is the real test. I would say three games played by strangers is worth more than ten games with your usual Saturday group.

Of course, tracking down people who can understand the rules, will play the game, [and] report back to you, AND aren’t crazy is a challenge. If you post online, 50 people will say they would love to, and of those, two will read the book. Once you find reliable people who can give you good feedback, cling to them for dear life.

What are the benefits and pitfalls of self-publishing your own wargaming rules?

The biggest advantage is, of course, that you are in charge. What you want in the book goes, if you want a supplement, it will happen, and so forth. Additionally, your game will reflect what you wanted it to be. I think in [self-publishing], you get a lot clearer creative visions and indie gamers tend to gravitate towards that: A game that has something to say on the topic is extremely attractive, even if you disagree with a particular conclusion.

I try to do as much myself as I can, though, of course, I do rely on outside sources for things like artwork, feedback, etc. Part of that is that this way, I know I can support the product down the road: If I want to fix a rule where we came up with a better way of doing it, or I want to add a new section, I can do that.

The downside, of course, is that you are on your own: Your art is as good as your own wallet can make it, your book looks as good as you can make it (unless you pay for it), and so forth. You also must promote it yourself. If you are writing for something like Osprey, they have marketing power and money to put behind the project.

Anything else you would like to say to our readers?

Before you write a game, ban yourself from reading any game on the same topic for a few months. If you are writing a WW2 tank game, put all your WW2 games in a box and do not open it. You should be spending that time immersing yourself in the topic in the form of books, music, documentaries, or anything else. Never ever another game.

Also, it cannot hurt to blast some metal albums, at least in my experience.

At Epoch Xperience, we specialize in creating compelling narratives and provide research to give your game the kind of details that engage your players and create a resonant world they want to spend time in. If you are interested in learning more about our gaming research services, you can browse Epoch Xperience’s service on our parent site, SJR Research.

(This article is credited to Jason Weiser. Jason is a long-time wargamer with published works in the Journal of the Society of Twentieth Century Wargamers; Miniature Wargames Magazine; and Wargames, Strategy, and Soldier.)

#Wargame Miscellaneous #interview #wargaming #history #gaming

1 note · View note

keichanz · 5 years

Text

Mask

I honestly could not think of anything else go on so have a proud papa Sess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Spooktober Day 20: Mask

“Hullo?”

Tucking the cordless between his shoulder and head, Inuyasha leaned back against the bar counter and crossed his ankles as he tucked into his freshly made, steaming cup of ramen.

“Rin’s award ceremony is tonight,” his brother said by way of greeting, his voice its usual monotone.

Inuyasha blinked and looked at the mini calendar on the fridge. “Shit, that’s to—?”

“You will be there.” Sesshomaru’s tone brooked no room for argument, his words a demand, not a request.

The half-demon frowned. “Well—”

“Seven pm at the middle school. Dress accordingly,” his half-brother once more interrupted him, using that bizarre ability he had to sound bored and commanding at the same time.

Inuyasha scowled that time and stood up a little straighter. “Wait just a damn—”

“Do not be late.”

The half-demon cursed a blue streak into the phone and when he got no reply from his bastard of a brother, Inuyasha realized the prick hung up on him. Scowling he placed the receiver in its charging dock just as Kagome wandered into the kitchen wearing comfy lounge clothes consisting of sweats and one of his old t-shirts.

“Who was that?” she asked as she sidled up to him and stole the bite of ramen from his chopsticks for herself.

“The bastard,” he answered, still glaring at the innocent device sitting in its cradle. “He wanted to kindly remind us of Rin’s award ceremony tonight at seven.”

Kagome blinked and then winced. “Oh crap. That’s tonight?”

Her husband snorted in reply and allowed his wife to take another bite of his ramen before shoving some noodles into his own mouth.

After swallowing her mouthful, Kagome sighed and wrinkled her nose, glancing down at her clothes in dismay. She was comfortable, dammit. She didn’t want to change.

Polishing off the rest of his noodles, Inuyasha echoed his wife’s sigh and moved to toss the empty cup into the trash. “I’m pretty sure Miroku and Sango’s three brats are getting awards too, so they can’t watch Tai and Iz.”

“I’ll call Mama,” Kagome said, resigned as she reached for the phone her husband had just put back. “I’m sure she or Souta wouldn’t mind coming over for an hour or so.”

“Didn’t we get a letter saying that Iz got something, too?”

“Yeah,” Kagome answered as she punched in the shrine’s number. “She doesn’t wanna go, though. Something about too much fanfare just for getting on the dean’s list or something, though I think it has more to do with being scared she’ll trip on the stage in front of Raiden.”

Inuyasha paused and sent his wife a narrow-eyed look. “Who’s Raiden?”

Kagome froze when she realized her mistake but thankfully her mother answering on the other end of the line saved her from answering her own husband so with a smile Kagome greeted her mother and promptly ignored the suspicious half-demon glaring at her from across the kitchen.

Sitting in the auditorium of the middle school sandwiched between Kagome and his half-brother – not by choice – Inuyasha bit back another sigh of boredom and leaned his elbow on the armrest. Propping his chin in his hand, he gazed with an air of disinterest at who he thought was the principal blather on and on about how proud he was of the students and shit.

Of course he was proud of his niece and daughter – okay and maybe Miroku and Sango’s brood – but all the other brats? Pfft.

Beside him Kagome was in similar straits, looking like she was having a hard time staying awake as she stifled yet another yawn and blinked rapidly. Beside her Sango looked like she was lost in a daydream and one seat over Miroku was scrolling through his phone, completely ignoring the principal’s speech.

On the other hand – a very distant hand – Sesshomaru was unsurprisingly looking immaculate as ever, not a hair out of place, tailored suit sharp and without a single wrinkle. His face gave nothing away as he gazed steadily at the man at the podium, amber eyes clear and alert. Kagura was chatting to the woman beside her in hushed tones, ignoring everyone.

Withholding a groan, Inuyasha slumped a little in his seat and had no qualms about hiding the tongue-curling yawn that escaped like his wife had. Beside him Sesshomaru shot him a look full of warning but it went ignored.

Your fault for dragging me here, asshole, he thought petulantly and refrained from flipping him off.

Thankfully there was only another few minutes passed of man’s boring drone before the awards were finally being handed out. Unfortunately, though, since Miroku’s kids and Rin both had surnames that started with T, they had to sit thorough more than half of the students receiving their awards as the announcer went through the alphabet letter by letter.

Inuyasha more or less tuned them out, only half-listening so he was aware when the T’s would begin, however when a vaguely familiar name was called – “Mashimo, Raiden” – he half-demon’s back straightened and he whipped his head around with sudden avid interest.

Raiden…wasn’t that the name Kagome had mentioned before they left? Narrowing his eyes, Inuyasha waited, eager to see the brat that had captured his babygirl’s attention, but when no student stood up after several more seconds, the announcer continued on to the next and Inuyasha realized he must be a no show.

He grumbled in disappointment. Now he really wanted to know who this punk was and why he was the reason she didn’t want to attend tonight. Was he a bully? Would he laugh at her? Inuyasha growled, but at Kagome’s light jab to his ribs, he stopped and back with a huff. He’d have to grill Kagome later on who this brat was later but for now, he’d wait and give Rin the support she deserved.

Finally, after what seemed like a small eternity – which in reality was only about twenty minutes – Rin was next to be called up. Each parent had been given a pamphlet as they had entered the spacious room which listed each student getting an award for what it was for so they’d been able to follow along. Izayoi’s name had an asterisk next to it since they’d called ahead and said she wouldn’t be attending.

“Taisho, Rin,” the announcer spoke into the mic – Inuyasha thought it might be the dean – and from the two front rows where the students were sitting, Rin popped up from her seat and scurried over to the stairs that led to the stage.

Sesshomaru straightened in his seat as Kagura stopped her chat with the woman and put her full focus on her daughter with a proud smile. Kagome likewise sat up straighter and brought up her camera app to take a few photos.

Despite himself Inuyasha had to smile as Rin flounced across the stage, looking equal parts adorable and pretty in her floral print dress with her dark hair all bunched up on top of her head. The smile on her face was huge and the flush coloring her cheeks was from genuine pleasure as she accepted her award. She shook both the principal and dean’s hand and bowed as the auditorium erupted in polite applause. When she straightened she looked directly at her family, beamed proudly, and blew them a kiss with a little wave.

Chuckling – he loved his niece’s cheek – Inuyasha stole a glance at his half-brother beside him, expecting him to look the same as ever with his stoic mask in place and cold amber eyes devoid of emotion like a fuckin’ robot.

What he saw, however, took him aback and he had to physically bite his tongue so he didn’t blurt out a very loud, “What the fuck?”

Beside him, Sesshomaru was actually smiling. Oh, it was small, barely noticeable, but Inuyasha saw it clear as day. His careful mask of casual indifference had cracked, allowing a bit of warmth to seep through and his amber eyes held a hint of affection as he gazed at his daughter on the stage.

Inuyasha gaped.

And seeming to notice that his mask had slipped after a fleeting glance his brother’s way, Sesshomaru’s back stiffened and in a blink his face was perfectly composed once more, the smile nonexistent and his eyes holding neither warmth nor affection as he passively watched Rin skip across the stage toward the stairs to rejoin her fellow students.

Inuyasha jabbed an accusing finger at his face and blurted, “I saw that.”

Sesshomaru’s jaw tightened a miniscule amount as he hissed through his teeth, “Silence, you idiot.”

“I saw it,” he insisted as a slow, gloating grin started curling the corners of Inuyasha’s mouth upward.

The silver-haired dog demon did not deign to comment and instead pegged him with a cold glare designed to shut him up and pay attention.

Grinning broadly now because he knew what he saw, Inuyasha obliged and said nothing more, though he didn’t need to. The sly glances and knowing smirks he sent his brother were more than enough and judging by Sesshomaru’s look of increasing aggravation, he was well aware of his foolish half-brother’s childish antics.

When at last the final student was called and the dean, with the principal’s help, ended the ceremony with a heartfelt speech about the future, success, and blah blah blah, parents and students alike stood to their feet and then it was mild chaos as they reunited.

Faster than a blink Sesshomaru stood up from his seat and hastily ushered Kagura down the aisle before Inuyasha could even think about teasing him some more. It was no matter, though. He knew what he saw, knew that Sesshomaru knew that he knew, and that was enough for him.

Inuyasha felt like cackling in victory but instead he helped Kagome up from her seat and after congratulating the Tsujitani brood on their awards, they exited the building, following the hoard of other humans and demons heading toward the double doors.

Once outside in the fresh air, Kagome breathed a sigh of relief and tugged her sweater a little closer to her body. She wasn’t surprised when warmth settled on her shoulders and she smiled her thanks at her husband, grasping his jacket and hunching down into it. Mmm, it smelled like his Boss cologne. Nice.

“So what were you needling Sesshomaru about earlier?” she asked as they headed toward Inuyasha’s truck. She spotted Rin along with Sesshomaru and Kagura by their own car and waved, making a mental note to call tomorrow and congratulate her niece since she hadn’t gotten the chance to tonight.

“I wasn’t needling,” Inuyasha protested as he unlocked the doors and walked around to the driver’s side.

Closing the door, Kagome shot her husband a dry look and Inuyasha rolled his eyes, however he couldn’t stop the corners of his lips from quirking up into a tiny grin as he started the truck and headed out of the parking lot.

“Let’s just say,” he began, navigating out onto the street and toward home, “that Sesshomaru’s mask isn’t as tough as he thinks it is.”

“What?”

“Nothing. So, wench. About this Raiden brat…”

#mask #spooktober prompts #day 20 #inuyasha #kagome #inukag #sesshomaru #keizfanfiction #fanfiction #oneshot

120 notes · View notes

lesbianmonsterlover · 5 years

Text

Female Orc x Female Reader (NSFW)

Orc Lady MMA fighter! This story contains drinking, swearing, professional fighting, and gratuitous smut. Forewarned is forearmed!

----

Your family had always been avid watchers of what other humans would consider violent blood-sports. Modern cage fighting is an art, especially when you’re dealing with someone whose major mode of fighting is submissions and takedowns. There’s something incredibly thrilling about it, and considering they’re two consenting, sapient adults there’s nothing you feel guilty about when it comes to watching them fight each other.

Your sister-in-law, your brother’s wife, was having her first professional bout. She had started working at a BJJ gym when she moved to your city during college, before she ever met your brother. It isn’t that she had ever thought this is where her life would take her, she started taking classes in fact as a mode of self defense and a healthy physical outlet. Her being good at it came as a complete surprise to even herself.

Your brother was out of town on a business trip, a sad fact of life considering his profession and position within the company where he worked. Finance could be time consuming and thankless, but the paycheck he got from his work meant that Liz could pursue her new dream of going pro. As her sister now, and considering you’d always wanted a sister growing up, you took it upon yourself to support her whenever your brother couldn’t. You’d go to her bouts, cheer her on, go drinking when she won and when she lost, iced her bruises. You loved her like a true sibling.

So, when your brother couldn’t make her first big fight, you were incredibly flattered when she asked if you’d join her instead. You donned the tee shirt she had made for the fight with her fighter name on it and some sponsors, made sure you looked presentable enough for when you’ll inevitably wind up on camera with her, and settled in for the evening. Your day started hours before the doors opened, helping her get in the right headspace with music and jokes, helping her stretch out, keeping her calm and centered.

When the two of you made the trip over to the venue, a huge arena where the local professional basketball and hockey teams played, you were surprised to see people already waiting outside by the athlete’s entrance. You guessed they were hoping to catch a glimpse of the big names, but you knew enough about how these things were run to know that they wouldn’t arrive until at least a few fights into the undercard.

Liz’s fight was second to last on the undercard, so the house would likely be packed by that point. You didn’t know whether to be thankful or not, her placement on the card meant that more people would see her fight and therefore if she’s good enough in the cage tonight she’d get more followers and her pro career would start off on a great note. That being said, the performance anxiety of your first fight is hard enough you’d assume, if the way she’s been acting the last week is any indication, so making it harder on her by adding the pressure of a bunch of drunk, judgemental attendees doesn’t seem like it would be great.

The two of you traverse the back hallways, with passes that get you into the behind the scenes staging area. As one of the few women fighting tonight she was given a semi-private area to warm up and keep limber. All four of the undercard women were in the visitor’s locker room, although there had been privacy created with the use of moving screens that the maintenance crew had set up to create some relatively spacious individual cubicles. There was one main card title fight between two women, an orc defending her middleweight belt for the twelfth consecutive time and an upcoming athlete from Russia who was undefeated, those two each got their own private warmup space same as the men on the main card.

The two of you were the first ones here from Liz’s crew, a fact which amped her up and not in the good way. “Marcos said he’d be here at three, fuck me it’s already three fifteen, come on.” You pull her into a hug, smoothing your hands over the french-braided pigtails you’d helped her with earlier.

“Relax, sis, just relax. You know how the trains are at this time of year, if he isn’t here in the next twenty minutes I’ll call over to the gym and ask when he left, deal?” She huffs but nods against your shoulder, hugging you back. “Breathe with me, okay? Easy in, and out, nice and slow. You’ve got this, you’re going to go out there and kick some serious ass, and then we’re going to sit in our nice ring seats and celebrate by getting obliterated on vodka and soda like a normal Friday night.”

The laugh she gives you, shoving you away playfully, is what you were going for. “If you think I’m paying for the expensive garbage vodka they have here you’re out of your fucking mind.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, pulling up the side of your tee shirt to show a large-ish hip flask, the one she gifted you when she asked you to be a bridesmaid.

“We’ll have to supplement it with a few expensive drinks, so we don’t raise too many eyebrows, but you know me better than that by now.” She reaches for it and you swat at her hand, wagging your finger in her face like a caricature of a mother. “No, bad Lizzy, no drinking before fighting.” She pouts at you and you can only laugh at her. “How mature, which one of us is older again?”

“Yeah yeah, I hate when you’re right. At least give me some water, you don’t want me in there all dehydrated. Help, I’m wasting away right before your eyes, dying of thirst.” She’s comically flopped across her bench, arm slung across her face in despair. The ‘oof’ she gives when you gently lob her water bottle at her stomach makes your snort out a laugh.

“Come on, don’t abuse my fighters before their bout.” Your shoulder is clapped by a huge hand and you turn to find the bright smile of Marcos, Liz’s coach, and his brother Julian her cutman. Her third corner man won’t be joining you until closer to fight time, coming from his normal day job to help out in her corner as he does in their training ring. Marcos and Julian are both objectively incredibly handsome men, if a little rough from years of fighting experience. Tall Brazilian walls of muscle, with tan skin and long curly black hair. Julian would probably be considered better looking, if only because Marcos has some serious cauliflower ear going and one broken nose that wasn’t quite set properly. They’re both quite tall and fit, but not really your type considering they’re packing some equipment you’re not into using.

Marcos gives you a serious look, but still warm. “You’ve done a good job keeping her head clear and relaxed today, thank you.” Liz is busy chatting with Julian and getting properly stretched out, and Marcos keeps his voice quiet enough that they don’t overhear. “It’s going to make tonight go much smoother if we can help her focus on the fight and not everything surrounding it, so thank you.” You just blush and smile, waving it off.

“She’s my sister, I love her, I want her to go out there and kick some ass. So, anything I can do to help I’m happy.” He beams at you, patting your cheek with almost fatherly affection.

“Good, you remind me of my brother. We’ll have to start training you to be in the corner with us if you can keep her this calm on a big fight day.” You laugh, but when he declares he’s serious answer back that you’re absolutely willing, but today is not the day to start.

The next few hours are a blur of keeping Liz distracted enough that she can slip into her fight-brain as she calls it, and before you know it you’re place in ringside seats reserved for families to watch the bouts waiting for her entrance song. At the first few bars of ‘Knights of Cydonia’ you stand up and start to cheer. You’ve got your cell phone out and recording, knowing she’s going to want to see later, and you go wild as she finally steps out onto the arena floor and makes her way towards the cage. She ignores you as she passes, but you don’t take it personally knowing that she’s got tunnel vision for the door.

Her opponent Bryn is currently 1-1, a half-orc from a relatively prominent gym in a neighboring state. She looks intimidating, considering she’s a few inches taller that your sister in law, but where Liz isn’t as tall she’s consideribly stockier, and their reach is surprisingly near equal in terms of measurements.

You’re sure the referee for Liz’s bout is a half-dwarf, if the insanely impressive braided beard down to his navel is anything to go by. When his hand goes down between the fighters, Liz and Bryn tap gloves before getting into their stances. It’s a few seconds of sizing each other up before Bryn goes in, closing the gap. She sends out a pretty telegraphed jab and Liz blocks it without trouble, answering with a blow to Bryn’s ribs that connects. Grasping the back of Bryn’s head, Liz tugs down to force Bryn’s face to meet Liz’s knee.

When Bryn’s head pops back up she’s sporting a cut on her nose, and she’s starting to leak blood down her cheek. She grimaces at Liz and snarls, you suppose it’s meant to intimidate her but she obviously doesn’t know Liz very well. Liz just roars right back and goes in for a takedown.

Bryn, you suppose, is a striker, if her lack of takedown defense is anything to go by. When Liz goes for her leg Bryn is a step too slow to dodge, and goes down like a sack of bricks onto the canvas. You cheer loudly “‘atta girl!” and watch with rapt attention as Liz locks her legs around Bryn’s arm. The grip she has on Bryn’s hand and the way she tugs forces Bryn’s elbow back over Liz’s hip. Bryn taps, the bell rings. You scream. Victory by submission in the first round, not even a minute in. You’re almost cackling with joy as Liz does a celebratory lap around the ring before being hoisted up by her coach.

She thanks you in her post fight interview, and you look like a deer in the headlights when a camera gets trained on you and you’re up on the jumbo-tron. Oh god, not like this. You smile a little shyly and give an awkward wave before the feed cuts back to your sister in law and you can relax. When she leaves the ring she grabs you from the seat and pulls you back with them. “Holy shit!” That’s about all the two of you can say for the next few minutes as you help her untape her hands and brush out her hair. She’s changed into more normal clothes and the two of you are back out at your seats for the main card fights just as they’re announcing the winner of the final undercard bout.

“You were great out there, good fight. You locked in that arm bar quick like nobody’s business, that’s a natural talent.” You watch as your sister in law starts to converse with arguably the most gorgeous orc woman you’ve ever seen. She’s tall just sitting, you don’t even want to hazard a guess at how tall she is standing. Her long hair is side shaved, and pushed over the top of her head to expose the bare side and her pointy ear. The cauliflower ear tells you she’s a fighter even before you notice how incredibly muscular she is. She’s broad with huge biceps and traps, her breasts are a bit small for her frame and she hasn’t bothered with implants, and you want to know if she has abs. You bet she does. She and Liz are talking shop, and you’re trying not to stare at this hot, hot orc. Liz glances at you knowingly, she knows your type, and snags her arm around your shoulders to pull you in over her, introducing you.

“Ushat, this is my sister in law and constant cheer section.” You introduce yourself by name to Ushat, and she shakes your hand with her huge and calloused one. She looks like she’s blushing a little when you two make eye contact, so you try to hit her with your sweetest and most affectionate smile, the one that’s melted more than a few hearts in your time.

“It’s really nice to meet you Ushat.” She’s definitely blushing now, but she smiles at you gently.

“If you two want to hold hands you could just say so and switch seats with me.” Liz smirks at you, and the two of you just now realize how long you’ve been shaking hands for. You both pull away like the other one is on fire, cheeks hot and stuttering out apologies. “So Ushat here is the current women’s heavyweight champ.” You stare over at her with wonder, which makes the green in her cheeks get darker as she blushes harder.

“Ah, yeah, y’know. Been fightin’ for a loooong time. Kinda orcish culture. I’m impressed your sister here was able to take down that half orc so handily. I think my kind tend to underestimate humans because some of you are very cute and small.” She smiles a little at you, her impressive tusks flashing in the low light of the arena. Liz, for what it’s worth, looks incredibly smug. Self-satisfied barely begins to describe it, she’s been talking about setting you up on a date for a long time but this kind of takes the cake.

“Alright ladies, I’m going to get a round of drinks. You two be sitting next to each other when I get back or no more flirting, I don’t want to be between the two of you anyway ‘m gonna get diabetes, you’ll ruin my career before it’s even started.” She’s jokingly frustrated and shoves the side of your face with the kind of aggressive affection only a sibling can manage.

Ushat is still blushing a dark green, her lightly mossy skin made dark emerald with it. She slings one of her huge arms over the back of the now vacant chair where Liz had been sitting. With her free hand she gestures a little shyly at the now free seat, looking satisfied if a little surprised when you blushingly sidle up next to her. Your thigh is soft compared to hers, you’re pretty sure anyone is soft compared to her considering how close she’s pressed against you. The way her stance widens in the chair ensures that you’re pressed together from knee to hip, and she even relaxes her posture some to press up against your side, your shoulder neatly tucked underneath her arm, your head slotting onto her shoulder like you two were made for each other.

Liz’s grin goes almost impossibly wide as she sees the two of you while walking back. She doesn’t say anything though, knowing how shy you and Ushat have been so far in your interactions she doesn’t want to run the risk of scaring you two apart. So she passes the drinks around instead and proposes a toast to new friends, the little eyebrow waggle at the end she just could repress. You snort a little laugh into your cup but take a deep drink, sighing at the light burn of the double pour. “The bartender gave us an extra pour on top because of how badass I was.” Liz preens, and Ushat gives her a proud grin.

“Rudolf doesn’t do that for just anyone, so you’ve made a good impression. Unsurprising! That fight really was great.” The two continue to talk shop over you, but you can’t find it in you to mind too much. You enjoy listening to the deep timbre of Ushat’s voice, and before you know it you’ve finished your drink, topped off by a healthy pour from the flask at your side, and snuggled further into the warm side of the orc next to you. When they announce the first fight and the first of the two fighters starts to walk out to their music Ushat begins clapping. She doesn’t pull away from you though, or remove her arm, no she crosses her other arm in front of you to basically pull you into an embrace. She isn’t giving thunderous applause, just enough to be polite, but it does pull you further against her to the point that you have to brace yourself up with a hand on her side.

When she stops applauding after the second fighter has made it to the ring you don’t make any moves to pull back. You keep yourself snuggled into her side, one hand resting on her firm stomach while your head is leaned fully against her shoulder. You’re definitely getting past the tipsy stage and into the drunk stage, if how affectionate you’re feeling is anything to go by. The arm Ushat has behind you shifts so that you’re corralled in the crook of her elbow while her hand lifts to thread her fingers in your hair. She smiles down at you, and you can only grin back up at her.

The night is kind of a blur, although you and Ushat have gotten to know each other better. Sometime around the fourth bout of the main card they announce that she’s in the arena, and she’s thrown up on the jumbotron with you still tucked into her arm. While the majority of you is cut out of the main shot, the camera does manage to catch her pressing a kiss to the crown of your head when she thinks they’ve cut away.

It’s late by the time the fights are over, the orc having successfully defended her belt once again and declaring herself the greatest. Ushat is pleased, passing on her congratulations in orcish with her arm still around you as the fighter passes by. When she stands for the first time that night you realize how huge she really is, the top of your head just barely reaches her clavicle. She laughs loudly, palming your head and tugging you close again. “You’re so dainty!” She sounds amused, pulling your hand up against hers and holding them palm to palm the tips of your fingers only reaching the first knuckle of hers. “Look! I can almost close my hand!”

It’s such a smooth move you don’t actually recognize it for what it is until the day after, and when she does in fact close her hand she laces her fingers through yours. She tugs you around and you follow without protest, her and Liz having become fast friends and Ushat taking Liz to meet some promoters and sponsors. You feel a bit like arm candy, the conversation mostly above you but you’re happy that Ushat and Liz want you there with them. It’s nearly five in the morning when you all leave and the three of you are sufficiently trashed. The stumble back to your apartment is a short three blocks, and Liz takes the pull out couch as she’s used to.

You’ve stripped off your jeans and shirt, your bra undone and halfway off you when Ushat walks into your room having come out of the bathroom. You freeze with your bra pressed up against your breasts by your hands but otherwise unsecured, and you can’t help staring at how much smooth and scarred green skin she’s showing. She’s in a skimpy spaghetti strap tank top and black bikini cut panties. The grin she fixes you with is sultry, her dark eyes burning. “Don’t stop on my account kitten.” Her eyes rake over your bare legs and the way your panties hug your form, lingering on the softness of your stomach before moving up your neck to your blushing face.

You bite your lower lip in contemplation before slowly lowering your hands and letting you bra drop to the floor. Ushat lets out a low and pleasure growl, almost humming. She stalks up to you, towering over you and gripping your chin between her thumb and forefinger. She stoops down to kiss you, and with a satisfied moan you slip your hands up her chest and over her shoulders to cling to her. Her huge hands caress up the back of your thighs and she takes advantage of your distraction to pick you up and toss you on the bed. She’s hypnotized by the way your breasts bounce as you settle on the mattress, and she brings her hands up to cup them. Thumbing over your nipples she grins as you let out a whine of pleasure.

Ushat kisses you again, and the smooth cool surface of her tusks pressed against your soft cheeks. You surprise her by swiping your tongue along her lower lip first, and she opens her mouth to meet your tongue with her own. They caress each other, rather than wrestling for dominance, and when you lay back and allow her to explore your pliant mouth she knows it’s willing and not coerced.

One of her hands continues to grope and your breasts sloppily, moving back and forth with her attention as her other hand pushes down your stomach and under your panties. You tug your lips from hers to throw back your head and cry out for her. “Fuck, Ushat!” She chuckles huskily against your neck when you cry out for her.

“That’s the idea kitten, don’t worry ‘m’gonna take good care of you.” When her fingers push between your labia she finds you already wet and waiting, and she snarls against your neck. “Fuck baby, you been ready for me all night haven’tcha?” She bites down on your shoulder, chuckling again as your hips buck up into her hand. “Ushat knows whatcha want baby, I gotcha.” One of her thick, calloused fingers slowly pushes into your waiting pussy. She groans at how hot and tight you feel around just one of her fingers. “Fuck baby, you got a real tight pussy, gonna stretch you out nice and good.” She licks up your neck wetly, biting harshly at your earlobe as she pushes a second finger into you, angling her hand to rub your clit with her thumb. You let out a broken cry, tugging at her shirt in order to press against her skin on skin.

In order to avoid having to stop fingering you, she just tears off her shirt, leaving the tatters on the floor nearby as she smashes her lips against yours again. Your hands grope at her strong back and shoulders before moving around to her front, skimming up to palm her small breasts. Her dark nipples are begging for your mouth, and as if she knows what you’re thinking she shifts her position just enough to be leaning completely above you, fingers pumping in and out of your soaking pussy. She groans when you lift your head enough to take one of her nipples in your mouth, sucking gently and flicking your tongue over the hardened bud.

She moves so her hips are just above yours, her legs splayed between yours and wrapped around your own so that you couldn’t close them even if you wanted to. She slowly leans down until you’re completely flush with her, held in control as she fingers your eager pussy. She has you pinned with her weight to the point where you can do literally nothing but moan and accept whatever it is she wants to give you. The broken sob of her name as she presses a third of her impossibly thick fingers inside of you makes her laugh, satisfied. She kisses the crown of your head, whispering praises. “Don’t worry baby, we’ll stop here for tonight, but eventually that cute little human pussy of yours is going to take my whole hand.” The way you twitch around her at the words makes her chuckle against your hair. “You like that thought huh kitten? At least this needy pussy of yours does.” She shoves her fingers in particularly harshly, making you moan and your eyes roll back in your head.

She starts rubbing her thumb over your clit again, and your walls begin to flutter with the stimulation. “That’s it kitten, cum for me, gonna make you feel so good baby, that’s it.” You’re panting under her, trying to writhe or buck your hips or do literally anything, but Ushat just chuckles at your shifting muscles pinned under hers. “No baby just take it, you’re gonna take what I give you kitten. Be a good girl and cum for me.”

The way she growls that last sentence in your ear, paired with the endless stimulation of your clit and those thick rough fingers inside you, takes you over the edge. You cry out her name and tense underneath her, muscles screaming to contract or do anything. All your body can focus on is the feeling between your legs, considering it can’t do anything else with its excess energy. You can’t believe when you squirt against her hand, but she just gives a satisfied growl and slowly brings you back down to earth.

You’re half asleep by the time your heart rate calms down, and you notice Ushat is trying to climb out of bed. You pout up at her sleepily, grabbing her huge wrist. “Stay? Please? I know this was fast but I was kinda hoping you’d stick around.” She just grins at you, using her cleaner hand to thumb your cheek with open affection.

“Just gettin you a towel, kitten. Gotta clean you up.” She wanders half naked into the bathroom and brings back a damp hand towel to wipe up between your thighs, gently cleaning your labia with the warm cloth. She tosses the towel across the room into your laundry hamper and crawls back into the bed behind you. She pulls you back against her chest, wrapping you up in her warm embrace and burying her nose in your hair at the crown of your head.

You aren’t sure when you fell asleep, quickly seems to be the answer. You wake up to your bed shaking, and you whimper and cling closer to the pillow that seems to be jumping. It calms down slightly, still vibrating but less destructive. “Sorry kitten, go back to sleep.” You crack open an eye and glance up at just the right time to get a kiss on the forehead from Ushat, who stayed the full night with you.

She’s on her Instagram, posting a picture of the two of you from last night along with Liz. “Whatcha doin’?” Your sleepy voice makes her smile gently.

“Gettin’ some damage control done. I’m not about to have people accusing me of being ashamed of my girlfriend.” She flicks over to an article on some MMA site where the still of her placing a kiss to your head ringside is front and center. ‘Ushat Cruelbeast Spotted Getting Cozy With Fighter’s Sister!’ is the headline, and you snort. Really? So uncreative. “I like you, a lot, I want to date you. I don’t want people thinking I’m just using you to get under some other figher’s skin. Which is fucking ridiculous by the way, I mean we’re not even close to the same weight class and never will be, so why would I be dating you to get under the skin of a figher I’d never fight? Fuckin’ hetero dudes can’t fathom why a human girl might want to date a big scary orc girl. Or why a girl would want to date another girl at all really.”

Your laugh makes her laugh, and the two of you are cracking up in bed. It takes a few minutes to calm down and you find yourself draped over her chest while you rest your chin over her heart, looking up at her earnestly. “I don’t think you’re scary. I mean, you’re for sure huge, but you aren’t scary at all. You know the first thing I thought when I saw you was some variation of ‘oh no she’s too hot, I can’t talk to her, she’s way too hot.’” She snorts and buries her face into your hair, apparently her favorite thing to do whenever you embarrass her.

“Come on pretty kitty, let’s get dressed and join your sister for breakfast. Then, ‘m gonna go home and get changed to take you on a proper date. And then, kitten, we’re gonna start workin’ on that promise I made you last night.” Your answering whimper makes her laugh, and she stands while hefting you up over her shoulder. “Come on kitten, unless you want your sister walkin’ in and finding us like this.” She emphasizes her statement with a firm slap to your ass, making you laugh. This might be the best morning ever.

#Female Orc #Fem Orc #Female Reader #Fem Reader #WLW #Lesbian Love #Lesbian Fiction #my writing #exophilia

488 notes · View notes