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yanderart · 4 years

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Once you found Shouto on the Anti-Purge forums, it felt so wonderful to be understood. So comforting to finally have someone you could rely on...

So, when you got a letter notifying you of your selection for the Annual Purge later on, of course you went to seek his help.

Should’ve known better than to trust strangers online, though.

My fic/portrait convo for the Yandere Purge Collab, from the Lovesick Discord. And please check the rest of the m. list for other amazing works set in the same AU!

Under the cut is the actual fic (Todoroki x Reader, nsfw, dark themes, 10k), as well as the respective TWs. Hope y'all enjoy 🥀

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Tws: Usual yandere ones (stalking, manipulation, delusion). Dub-con/Non-con. Non-consensual Drug Use, aka Aphrodisiacs. Death threats and sexism (from randoms on the forum, not Todo).

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You couldn’t think straight —hadn’t been able to since waking up again. All you could recognize amidst the fog currently obscuring your thoughts was the longing, prolonged, and tangible in its hold over your being.

You felt hot all over, the flames licking at your skin burning brightly as you squirmed from your place, eagerly attempting to get closer to the cold reprieve emanating from the man that held you.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Y/N." One of his hands was steering you on his lap, the other one gently massaging your shoulders in a comforting motion. “I can only help you if you do."

If your judgment had not been overcast by the desire pushing away your self-awareness, then perhaps you could’ve heard the faint hint of amusement in his voice. Perhaps you would’ve thought to look up and finally encounter the content shine of his heterochromatic eyes.

“I feel…" speaking was laborious, your tongue impossibly weighty and your mind swirling with thoughts that escaped any semblance of coherence. “I feel hot all over. It hurts.”

The hand positioned around your waist went to search for one of your clenched ones, easily engulfing it in his grip as he nudged the side of your face with his chin rather tenderly. A gentle encouragement for you to stay attentive, anchoring you to the moment despite your dazed mindset.

“Show me then,” his low timbre tickled your skin, sending another wave of excruciating heat to wreak havoc inside your body, “Let me know where it hurts.”

With a stuttering sigh, you proceeded to press both of your hands to your lower stomach, gulping audibly before bringing them further down. Dancing just short of your underwear while your eyelids fluttered shut.

You knew your actions were out of character deep down. Even recognized the shadow of wrongness that distorted the current scene. You weren't supposed to do such things, weren't supposed to feel like that…

But the reality was that you were so excruciatingly warm by that point, and his palm felt so deliciously cold.

When you heard the dreadful siren going off in the distance, the instantly recognizable sound of the Purge starting at last, you were already too far gone to think of anything else but the fingers brushing against the thin cotton of your panties, so close to the evidence of your need soaking through them.

Your parents had told you not to trust strangers online once upon a time. You should’ve really taken their advice more to heart.

。。。。。

But first, perhaps a little tracing of your steps is in order —some necessary context to fully understand the extension of your plight.

You see, earlier that day you had woken up full of a peculiar mix of drive and determination. It was indeed Purge Day, the single day of the year you had grown to fear the most ever since childhood, and yet for once you found yourself oddly relaxed, filled to the brim with resolve instead of your usual nerves.

Which was already an unexpected turn of events, considering you had just gotten a letter notifying you of your selection as one of the accursed Darlings of the Night.

A gentle reminder that, if caught, your life would stop belonging to yourself for an entire dreadful year.

Because a Yandere had their sight on you now, or so the notice had informed you in impeccable typography. Anxious fingertips memorized the slight raise of inked words, inspecting every single detail the letter carried.

You had imagined a monster ready to pounce just outside your door then, fitting enough to be the carrier of your bad news. A preternaturally grotesque being, built from all the Yandere themed horror stories you had heard throughout the years.

And yet there you were, feeling safer in that instant than you had in years; Because this time you had a plan. He made sure to give you one you could easily follow.

Just like he later made sure to welcome you in with a kind smile and awfully persistent hospitality.

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

You should've known better than to accept.

。。。。。

In the present, fingers were now dipping under the elastic of your panties, ghosting across feverish skin and encouraging your whimpers to grow louder.

"Is this what you want, then?" The man's breath tickled one of your ears, rough digits gathering your slickness with practiced ease. And he sounded genuinely concerned too, as if your discomfort was not a consequence of his own machinations. "Because I wanna ease your pain, baby. Give you what you truly need."

He barely even touched you yet you were already struggling not to crumble, the desire governing your mind mixing with the new sensations to create a new delirious kind of torment.

Continuing to tease you, the man was relentless in his torture, barely even brushing over your neediest spots. A gentle press of his palm to stimulate you for a moment before pulling back, much to your shameful frustration; Better than nothing, but not close enough.

In his own way, though, he was urging you to speak up. Expecting you to demand what you truly wanted.

Yet as a retort, all you could come up with was gasping out his name, dripping from your lips like honeyed prayers as your hips fought to buck up against his hand.

A sound you afterward repeated a hundred times over. Chanted until its melody became engraved on your tongue and the man was finally caving in, sliding his fingers inside with a smirk.

He had known you'd end up caving, had planned for it for months now, and yet nothing had prepared him for the actual view.

。。。。。

Shou, actually, had been his username when you first met him. Once upon a time recited with a genuine smile and an eagerness to please, such a far cry from the anguished whines it would later lead up to.

You started frequenting the forum he inhabited a few months back. A place which happened to be a hidden corner of the internet for people who did not just stumble upon it, but actually sought it out. A part of the web where its occupants challenged societal norms and, against what society had tried to condition you all into thinking, chose to voice their taboo Anti-Purge sentiments instead.

Sentiments perhaps born either due to the inherent discriminatory nature of the holiday (why was it that Yanderes were accommodated for, while Darlings barely got a warning before they were made prey?), a need for contrarianism (when opposing open kidnappings, assault and other debauchery became an act of rebellion), or just a tenuous moral high ground which made it unbearable to stomach. Whatever the reason, it was your first time encountering such a density of like-minded peers.

Despite attempting to commit yourself to being a lurker, deciding to never post or reply to others, your days had still quickly become consumed by the need to read each and every topic. You were simply fascinated with this new dark corner of the web.

That was, of course, until the aforementioned Shou became the main focus of your attention, a dash of intriguing brightness to break the monotony of your existence.

And like moths rushing to the flame, your curiosity would be your undoing.

There was something about him that pulled you in (along with many others from the community, which tended to flock on his posts whenever he grazed the forums). His username was clearly just a nickname instead of a carefully crafted pseudonym; profile picture just an image of the back of what you all assumed to be his hair, dual-toned strands catching the light in a hypnotic way.

Truly, his disregard for anonymity within those parts was a bigger statement than you were expecting, almost as commendable as it was dumbfounding. There was the nature of his postings too, never subtle about his inclinations or ideas.

How to disarm and reutilize Purge Traps.

Most effective ways to incapacitate a violent assailant.

Government lies and why they matter.

Faking a BOPC (breach of purge code) and getting away with it.

There was little method to the madness that was his forum activity, besides the hint that he was evidently more knowledgeable about the subject than most. Plus the fact that he was proactive about his advice, actually seeking to teach others to fight back instead of just hide away and hope for the best. For another self-proclaimed Darling, Shou was ruthless with his methods —it was hard not to admire him.

And admire you did, keeping tabs of his sporadic bursts of activity and speeding to try and interact with him whenever you caught him online. You were, to voice it simply, simply star-truck by him (and perhaps becoming a bit of a fangirl).

Because whoever Shou was, it felt like he understood you. And so, against every ounce of your common sense or natural paranoia, you had finally decided to break your golden rule and reach out for the first time since you joined the niche forum.

And not to just leave a vague comment agreeing on public discourse, but to actually send him a private message. In your defense, how were you supposed to know the chains of events your actions would start?

Do you actually believe what you post?, had been your lame conversation starter.

Luckily for you, he did not leave you hanging. You made sure to send the message while he was still active, one of the few days a week you knew he devoted to his presence on the site (and wasn't it slightly creepy, how you had taken the time to learn his schedule by that point?)

I wouldn't be here if I didn't, dry, to the point and leaving you embarrassed to have even sent the first question.

Yet for some reason, something about Shou reverted you back into a middle school kid seeking to impress a way cooler senior.

Perhaps it was what he symbolized (a change for the better), what he appeared to be (everything you wish you were) —whatever it was, your fingers were frantically typing a reply as soon as his appeared on your screen.

I just think it's amazingThe things you know

How you share them with everyone

The way you see through the lies

I just think you're— , your digits hovered over the keyboard as you were about to type out the last sentence before quickly deleting it. Even in your excitement, you knew how obsessed you'd sound if you started complimenting him personally in your very first conversation.

So instead you sent your thoughts on his posts and awaited his answer with bated breath. A few minutes ticked by this time, your anxiety making you count down the seconds in mortified silence, slowly weighted down by your doubts until your notifications for the forum were going off again with a distinct ping.

I've seen your replies around. I think you're great too.

Whatever your hang ups for praising him directly had been, he clearly did not harbor any. As the prongs of nervousness alleviated their hold over your body, you struggled to see any problems with it either…this was a person you had come to idolize, and they thought you were great?

Your smile, while still anxious, was considerable while you quickly responded.

I'm just a n00b. Learning from the pros.

A moment of thought, biting your bottom lip as you decided whether to add a second message or not. Fuck it, you told yourself.

I wasn't even supposed to be posting anything, but you made me wanna reach out.

Was that too forward? Oh god, it was, wasn't it? You must've sounded creepy, must've sounded desperate and…

That's cute. Did my ramblings teach you anything?

An actual squeal left you then, sounding like it came from an altogether different person. You were an adult, with a career and responsibilities… Yet somehow, this stranger online indirectly calling you cute made you more excited than you were comfortable admitting.

Ofc. I didn't even know what a BOPC was before. Didn't know most of the purge traps you mentioned, either.

The spaces between replies were getting smaller, the conversation turning fluent as you both seemed to be staring straight into the screen, waiting for the other to finish typing.

So you really are a n00b then.

Shit, did you fail some sort of forum etiquette by admitting that? Somehow, the need to impress Shou was more palpable than ever.

And you clearly know your stuff. Makes me wanna up my game.

Be more like you, you left unsaid.

So am I your senpai then?

Your fingers froze just above the keyboards, eyes scanning over Shou's last message and reverted back to staring at his profile pic for a solid minute. You would've squealed again, if you weren't so taken aback.

You make it sound like I am, his second message lit up your screen, coming in quickly after your rare pause in replies.

I don't think that's bad, though. Third message from him, and you were close to fainting now.

Then in that case I suppose you are. You wondered whether Shou wouldn't think you were pathetic admitting that, or whether he had been honest by saying he didn't mind...

I've also noticed you agreeing with some of my more polarizing views.

A welcomed change in topics.

You thought to ask him which ones (most of his posts tended to have a polarizing effect, with people finding him either too radicalized or not radicalized enough), but before you could formulate the question you saw the twinkling circles symbolizing he was typing up another sentence.

Do you actually believe them? And now it was his turn to spit your words back at you.

Well, yah. You make compelling arguments.

Color me impressed then, the start of his new retort left your mind spinning. Never met a n00b like you before.

After his declaration, you found yourself writing and rewriting your answer, hesitating on your word choice, and yet pure elation coursed through your veins.

He said he's impressed with me, your brain kept supplying on loop. You had no way of knowing just how much of a lasting impression you were leaving.

I don't wanna stay one tho. I'd like to jump a few levels. Improve.

Barely a moment's notice before his last message provoked a noticeable hitch in your breath.

I can help you with that.

Which, as short of a reply as it was, left you giddier than would’ve been healthier to admit.

Perhaps it could be chalked up to your work shifts growing more monotonous and tiresome, your social life becoming a faint echo of what it used to be, or just the regular wear and tear from a too-plain existence —a routine where you didn’t tend to engage with life, but just passively watched it go by.

Whatever the true reason was, that night you went to sleep with such a wide grin that the apples of your cheeks had started to hurt from the exertion, infinitely excited after getting to talk firsthand with someone you had already come to admire by that point.

It almost made you self-conscious, knowing just how much it all meant to you, how such a small gesture on his part happened to mean the world to you.

But there was really no reason to feel ashamed or overzealous over your own reaction. If you could’ve seen Shou, you would’ve known you weren’t the only one smiling.

。。。。。

Almost as open of a smile as the one adorning his features right now, currently hidden from your view as his fingers set a maddening pace. Tortuously slow at first until his knuckles started brushing against your opening with each thrust.

All you could hear now were the wet sounds of your arousal facilitating his movements, motions whose only purpose seemed to be to drive you more rambling and disoriented by the second.

"Is this what you want? What you need, perhaps?" His usually calm voice was uncharacteristically affected as he gasped against your ear, the torture he was making you endure clearly getting to him as well.

You were much too preoccupied with the waves of pleasure and warmth overflowing your body to give a proper response, but your lack of one did not deter him.

If anything, your needy gasps and whines were the only encouragement he required.

"Don't worry, Y/N. I'll take care of you, make you feel good."

By that point, the hand that had been petting your hair had found its way to your sopping heat too, calloused pads circling around your pearl while the man continued feeding you his eager promises.

"I get you, baby. Just like you get me." So close, your entire body taut and ready to snap. "And you want me to take care of you too, right?"

You weren't conscious enough to understand the implications, your impaired judgment prohibiting you from reading further into the meaning of his words. He sounded so encouraging, so deceivingly tender despite stuffing you full of his fingers as you squirmed on his lap.

All you could do was nod furiously.

And later on, when your senses sadly returned, dedicated yourself to lamenting over which of your actions brought you down this unfortunate path.

。。。。。

Perhaps, your consciousness supplied, it had been the fact that you opened up so readily. That you had dared to share with a supposed new friend, things that should’ve better stayed hidden in the first place.

But goddamn it, you felt downright honored that he even considered you worthy enough to entertain in the first place. From the very first second, Shouto already had the upper hand.

During the first few conversations, the topics you two discussed were all closely related to the purge and your mutual hang ups with it. Concise and carefully typed out messages were exchanged, discussing opinions you had never expected anyone to be interested in hearing—not from you, at least.

But then, as the weeks slowly progressed, the subjects of conversation began shifting to both of your lives, to your occupations, hobbies, and, directly against the forum's policy for privacy, the people you two were outside the confines of your online corner.

Even without actually exchanging any real data or supplying him with your name or age, you found yourself starting to open up more and more with each day.

You told him about your grueling office job, the friends you hadn’t seen or texted in weeks, and the reality of an apartment which more closely resembled a containment cell than a home…

Revelations that you had kept hidden for so long, which now came pouring out without regard for how mortified they made you feel. You were conscious of the limits blurring between you two the further you kept going, of how you were telling him things best left unsaid, cramped and buried in a hard to reach place.

And yet, for some obscure reason, everything Shou represented made it impossible for you to resist the temptation to speak up, to demand to be heard for the first time in an eternity of quietness.

You’re pathetic, is what you expected him to say in return. Pathetic, weak, meager, and worthless. Anticipating him, somehow, to echo all the doubts and deeply held fears you carried inside.

Most of my friends don’t understand either, was instead the response you received. But most people don’t see what's wrong, what needs to be changed. You feel lonely because you do.

It wasn’t clear what you would’ve wanted to hear beforehand, the things you had fantasized someone would reply if you ever gathered the courage to share your anxieties. Whatever those expectations had been an eternity ago, they now vastly paled when compared to what your new friend was dangling in front of you.

It felt like he was giving an excuse for things you had always perceived as personal failings. If what he said was true, it would mean it wasn’t your social ineptitude that kept people away, your uselessness, or uninteresting personality.

It would mean the shadows around you could still be dispelled somehow, exorcising the silhouettes of a suffering that had become a regular companion in your day to day life.

Brandishing a courage that only anonymity could give you, your fingers were a blur on your keyboard as you tried to ignore the rapid heartbeat in your chest, the fear, and exhilaration from opening up for the first time in forever.

Something you would later regret a thousand times over.

And you do too, and it wasn’t a question, a nervous comment or a stuttered retort. With the aid of the text format, you could look as confident as you knew you weren’t. You understand as well.

You understand me, was the tacit meaning behind it. The prickling of unshed tears made it so you were furiously blinking, fighting against the downpour despite your eyes refusing to leave the screen for longer than an instant.

I do. More than you realize.

For all intents and purposes, your first mistake was indeed opening up.

And your second one was being naive enough to let him in. Seriously, why hadn’t you heeded your parent’s advice about stranger danger?

。。。。。

...If they could only see you now, coming apart at the seams and with the name of your tormentor being the only word you were able to string together.

"Such a beauty, and all for me," his praises accompanied you through the rough orgasm ripping through your body, lips kissing your forehead in stark contrast to the digits still pumping inside your heat. "Let me hear your voice, baby. Let me hear how beautiful my name sounds on your lips."

And you obeyed, because what other choice did you have. Mindless, broken, and oh, so needy.

You continued to audibly moan as your climax unwound, crying out his name in absolute reverence while Shouto's smile deepened against your skin. The chill of his touch was still as soothing as ever, calming down the embers of a lust that refused to completely die down.

When he finally pulled his hands from your core, you felt excruciatingly empty. But you were not given enough time to wallow in your despair, because who you once considered your friend was then grasping your face gently between his hands, leading your gaze to meet his—forcing you to witness the intensity and adoration present there.

"My Y/N."

Even in your deeply intoxicated state, the last few dredges of your senses supplied just how utterly abhorrent the situation was.

The sirens signaling the start of the Purge had died down a while ago, drowned out by your own cries of pleasure, but you could still see the remnants of the government logo still plastered all over the TV, its bright glow bathing you both in an eerily scarlet ambiance.

From the same weak place of coherence, a shiver of fear managed to break through your stupor.

"You're going to continue to be a good girl for me, aren't you?"

When he kissed you then, slow and almost ironically hesitant despite what had just transpired moments before, you couldn't begin to tell your body to refuse. Much to your own horror, you were soon eagerly kissing your tormentor back.

。。。。。

The second mistake leading up to your downfall, on the other hand, took a little longer to occur. It was after a few more weeks of conversation. You vented and talked way too much, while Shou listened intently and even rewarded you with a few crumbs of advice of his own.

So wrapped up in your new seemingly innocuous friendship you were in, you failed to recognize the magnitude of an event that should've sent you scrambling to shut off your monitor. A warning so loud it would've put the Purge sirens themselves to shame.

You see, with Shou's help, you were slowly becoming more of an active user around those parts. You didn't just stick to replying to his posts or lurking until he shot you a private message anymore; no, you were now officially a contributor, deciding to step out of your anonymity to share what you thought was a fairly interesting article. It was a rather long-winded thinkpiece on the morality of Darlings’ treatment after the Purge had ended—the reality of that year spent in captivity that most people tended to just brush under the carpet, all in the name of making the entire ordeal more palatable to digest.

In all your eagerness, however, you had failed to realize a very crucial detail, which was that the article was a whole two days old. Already an ancient text by forum's standards, apparently.

So with that in mind, of course you should've expected the hate, an outpouring of bitterness fit for a community of loners and acidic underdogs. You were on an anonymous forum on one of the darkest parts of the internet, somewhere most sane people actively stayed away from—Clearly, a rookie unwittingly reposting something was the perfect target for a lot of your bitter comrades. An excuse to finally take out all of their pent up frustration.

Fuck1ng pleb, thanks for copy-pasting the same post for the 55th time.

This is why we shouldn't let newbies post. Look at this mess @mods.

Time to hang it up, n00b. And by “it”, I mean your f****** neck.

i bet ur a girl, [Username]. u type like a b1tch.

And the icing on the cake for internet interactions, a myriad of wall spamming "KYS" being plastered all across the comment section, bold and daunting as they filled your notification box with the repetitions of hate. If you weren't so sure of your safety behind your screen, perhaps you would've felt intimidated.

As it stood, you were just embarrassed, mortified at the fact that you had seemingly botched your only attempt at leaving a positive first impression. If anything, it only seemed you had given everyone a common enemy to pick on for once...

Or that was, at least, until Shou happened to log in at exactly that precise moment. You knew he was usually busy around that day and time (he never actually told you whether he had a job, but you had surmised as much from your past chats), so his instantly recognizable profile picture and username popping up had you genuinely gasping at first. It was one hell of a coincidence, but you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief at what looked to be your savior.

Everyone, stop getting your panties in a twist. This is why no new users end up staying, the environment is abhorrent.

It was vague enough not to betray the fact that you two weren’t just strangers anymore, as well as keeping Shou’s reputation as a lone wolf from completely shattering.

And a comment which, surprisingly, instantly dulled most of the incoming messages your post was being flooded with.

People respected him there, his status as a renowned user giving him a genuine sort of power and hold over the rest of the community. One of the first things you had recognized on the forums was the distinct hierarchical structures amongst its users, and there Shou might’ve as well be granted the title of mayor for all the weight his every sentence carried.

Or at least they did with the majority of the community. As in every place where large numbers of people gathered, there were always a few rotten apples just begging to be tossed.

and ofc ur whiteknighting for her, Shou The Great. shes sucking ur dick under evry single post u make

You cringed, studying the bitter user that had decided to be a contrarian and easily recognizing him from unsavory past encounters you witnessed. Although, if you were completely honest, this time you couldn't exactly say his words didn't carry a certain degree of validity.

Shou had told you he was glad that was the case with you, that his post resonating with anyone was one of the main reasons why he hadn't just disappeared from the site completely. But in reality, saying you weren't subtle about your agreement with his ideas would be an understatement.

You were like a puppy skipping behind him, trailing his interactions and always ready to write an eager comment backing him up. Yet you had never thought others actually paid attention to your mostly one-sided interactions, the occasional meager downvote or emote being the only thing that made you aware your comments weren’t just lost in the sea of spam Shou’s posts were usually showered in.

For the longest time, your support had just felt like leaving letters for the man to find. Letters you hadn’t even been sure had reached their target until a few weeks back...

Suddenly, the sharp sound of Shou's incoming reply drove you from your tribulations.

Well, maybe if you weren't such a crude man you wouldn't be permabanned from starting topics yourself. Although I doubt anyone would be sucking your dick either way, shitty ideology considered. [Image attached]

A grimace was quick to grow on your face as you aptly studied the picture Shou decided to close his reply with.

It was a screenshot of what looked to be someone's post history, a rather extensive list with alarmingly offensive titles such as "Why male darlings should be spared", "The purge is a form of cuckoldry" and “Feminist agenda: female yanderes and their biological advantage [Repost]". Almost all of them exhibited a tragic downvote ratio right as well, besides the red symbol signaling the posts had been archived by senior users or mods.

For someone who also loathed the terrible holiday, it was almost admirable how the man managed to be almost as detestable as the criminals you all rallied against.

But even so, what disturbed you the most wasn't the clear bigotry of the user, but the fact that that screenshot couldn't have been taken from public records. A user's post history was hidden, just another measure on the site’s part to keep people from recognizing too many details about each other and possibly endangering themselves.

No, it could only have been taken from inside the account. And judging from the other guy's quick reaction, you weren't the only one who came to that realization.

how the fck did u get that

I knew u were friends with the mods. fcking rats

By that point, everyone else had stopped clogging the comments and, you assumed, instead opted to settle down and attentively observe the events transpiring. Apart from the emote reactions and the rapidly rising number of upvotes on Shou’s comments, you had all become a passive audience to the public ridicule.

Although you couldn’t help feeling slightly disjointed by Shou’s behavior. Below your wicked sense of pride at having him defend you, there was still the whispers of your gut telling you the man was going a little too far, his actions spelling a more sinister meaning than just “having a friend’s back”.

You've been here for years, Minoru. Surprised you haven't yet noticed how much of a pest everyone sees you as.

Minoru? You did a double-take, going back to read the username of the guy Shou was arguing with. But he just had a randomly generated number as a pseudonym, same as you and most others, and with just a picture of some anime sneezing girl to distinguish his profile from the rest. No trails or signs of what could Shouto be referencing to.

Nothing but an option you preferred not to consider. But it couldn't be, could it? your friend wouldn’t...

fucking delete that right now, man.

this isn't a joke, DELETE THAT.

Only that the abrasive and desperate reaction told you everything you needed to know. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, shock mixing with equal parts horror and amazement you couldn’t even begin to try and disentangle. Because right that second, you were witnessing your friend breaking the forum’s number one rule with a front-row seat to the spectacle.

And he was doing it all in your name.

Then maybe think twice before you go out of your way to harass newbies. Or have you had too much time on your hands after being fired, is that it?

It was vague enough not to represent any kind of threat... if not for the context of the site. And yet you all knew the hidden message behind it, the warning for whoever Minoru was to understand Shou knew much more than what he was letting on. That he could expose much more than he was currently alluding to.

y are u even doing this, shou? y do u care wtf happens to this noobslut anyways?

Shou's reply took barely a moment to appear, lighting up your screen and, despite the slightly morbid nature of his protection, coaxing out a smile to adorn your lips. It was like a balm being applied to your worries, quieting down most of your incipient concerns in favor of rejoicing.

They're a friend.

For fuck’s sake, you even screenshotted that for posterity. Somehow, him acknowledging the new bond you two had openly felt like a milestone.

When a mod came in to archive the post and give everyone involved a stern warning later on, you were already way past your previous doubtful sentiments.

Instead, the last thing you did before going to sleep that day was to open up your private conversation with Shou and send a quick yet heartfelt message of gratitude his way.

Months prior, you wouldn’t have ever thought you’d be thanking anyone for semi doxxing another human being. How rapidly things were changing, though, and all while you got lost in the thrill of mattering.

Thanks for sticking up for me. It meant a lot, you typed feeling slightly lightheaded, drunk on the idea that anyone would think you worthy of having your back.

You thought Shou went offline after dishing out his not so thinly veiled threats, but somehow he was back again in an instant, the sound of notifications going off shaking any remnants of your exhaustion.

Anything for you, [Y/N].

You were so tired, it didn't occur to you that you hadn't yet shared your real name with your friend either.

That night, for once, you fell asleep with a twinkle in your eye and the image of Shou's multicolored locks dancing against your eyelids. Imagining, ever so briefly, your fingers trailing down the back of a neck you now had memorized from analyzing his profile picture.

And, while you slept with your phone clutched to your side, you also failed to notice the peculiar sound of your own camera going off, the soft glow from the red light beside your lense bathing your features in its subtle illumination, flickering against your eyelashes and the lingering grin on your curved lips.

You truly looked angelic like that.

Suffice it to say, Minoru never bothered you again after that day. In fact, his name disappeared from the site not too soon after.

。。。。。

But now, to continue the grueling task of giving a context for your inevitable end, it is necessary to jump a month further into the future, barely a week from the excruciating present.

Because it was then that the last strike finished nailing the coffin of your proverbial undoing, burying you under the weight of your own ignorance.

You got your notice in the mail on the Day of Announcements, an inconspicuous letter lacking any further distinction beyond a scarlet government seal emblazoned across its front. But even before you opened and read the message, you already knew of its contents—easily recognizing the image before you from several of the varied posts you had seen floating around on the forums lately.

Purge Notice!!! Help needed Urgently.

Just got my letter. Do I stay hidden or fight back? [Open poll]

Third time getting mine. AMA about my methods.

The range of how you had seen other users reacting to their own selections was diverse, with some of them being more experienced while others, such as you, had just gotten their first letter ever. If things played out differently for you, then you were sure you would've been another one of the numerous panicked voices, awkwardly trying to maneuver their way out of their new situation.

And maybe, then, your odds wouldn't have been so completely fucked from the start.

As it stood, as soon as you laid eyes on the notice, the first thing you thought of was how quickly you could boot up your computer and open the forum’s private messages. Because, for the first time in forever, you were overwhelmed by the feeling of someone else being there for you.

Shou was your friend, had earned that spot fair and square after months of listening to you venting and sharing deep discussions; faster than you could even realize it, and so it was only natural for you to seek his help once the news of your selection for the new yearly Purge reached you.

He had even threatened another user for your sake, for fuck’s sake. So, really, what harm could come out of relying on someone you were sure was trustworthy?

Maybe it was too late by that point for you to snap out of it, but it was almost amusing seeing you being so easily deceived.

Just another reason why you needed him, certainly.

。。。。。

Already told you I'd have your back, had been his immediate reply barely an instant after you attached a candid photo of your hand holding up the envelope. Whatever you need, I’m here.

His lack of hesitation was palpable through your screen, heart hammering in your chest as you were faced with a kindness you had thought yourself undeserving of not long ago.

As soon as you closed your mailbox, you had immediately raced to send him the message, completely foregoing telling any of your other friends or family members when you doubted they would even understand you in the first place. Shou had been right when he told you people just didn’t want to see the truth, even if it slapped them right in the face, leaving dark imprints in the shape of their narrow mindedness.

But he was there, he was letting you know as much, in his own words. And for what felt like the hundredth time in the past few months, you felt incredibly lucky to have stumbled upon the Forums in the first place, to have traced whatever fortunate path had led you to find him—the one person able to distinguish you in a world you always thought you blended straight into.

Thank you, Shou, for everything. And at that moment, you really had been truthful, so much so that there were tears prickling at your eyes, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude drowning you with its intensity.

Indeed, your final mistake had been your desperate need for acceptance. A need that had, in the end, cost you everything.

You can call me Shouto now. No use for nicknames anymore.

Amidst the chaos of your life possibly crashing down all around you, somehow his revelation put a trembling smile back in your face.

Then allow me to repeat: thank you, Shouto.

Np, Newbie. Told you I'd help you level up, didn't I?

His teasing managed to garner a small stuttering laugh out of you despite the dreadfulness of your situation.

But you couldn’t help it. Somehow, every reply Shouto sent you only served to wrap the illusion of safety tighter around you. So tight in fact, that you should’ve started worrying about suffocating.

。。。。。

On the other side of the screen, the man with the multicolored hair couldn’t help but keep staring at the picture you had sent him earlier.

He was transfixed, eyes almost unblinking as they refused to separate from the image. The way your fingers tentatively held the letter up for the picture was simply adorable to him. Beautifully naive.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen your face before, like he hadn't already memorized the texture of your skin and the everlasting trace of a frown always threatening to dampen your mood. He read your expressions like poetry, every mole and scar furthering the securing of his interest.

But this was the first picture you had actually chosen to send him out of your own volition, the final symbol of a trust he had worked so tirelessly to earn. Used to catching prey as he was, the man wasn’t entirely sure when you had turned from a game into a priority, from a priority into the only thing he could even make himself care for.

And it didn’t help that it was his letter you were holding, too. His formal declaration of pursuit.

With time, Shouto was sure you would find it in yourself to appreciate the beauty of such irony.

But, for now, what he really needed to do was buy some tea. Couldn’t have your own stubbornness ruining your first encounter, could he?

。。。。。

In the coming weeks, your friend aided you and even coached you as you jointly planned for the horrific holiday, not only suggesting ideas but tracing the safety measures needed for them to succeed. You really had no reason to doubt him by that point.

That evening, after you finished letting Shouto know you were back from work, you made sure to pack all of your supplies into an inconspicuous bag you had acquired for the occasion. Whoever your Yandere was, it was best to not give any hints of your new acquisitions, just in case they were already stalking your movements.

Shouto had helped you devise the list, mentoring you in your selection of weapons as well as self-defense arsenal—what brands of pepper spray to get, which ammunitions were most efficient and reliable, even what kind of clothing was the least troublesome if the need to escape ever arose. If you had been sure he knew his craft before, now you were surprised at just how vast his wisdom genuinely was.

After the last few finishing touches of preparations, you were already on your way to the direction you had both agreed on (supplied by him, approved by you). There were several hours until the start of the Purge still, but the adrenaline swimming through your bloodstream was already considerable.

Shouto had suggested you visited him for the Holiday, quoting how the measures in place for his home made it nothing short of a fortified vault, impossible for any outsiders to break into (and for anyone to break out of, but let's not get ahead of ourselves).

With that in mind, how could you have refused his offer? Your place was barely an excuse for an apartment, windows that didn't entirely close, and feeble doors that could be easily broken into. Even if you weren't partly driven by the curiosity of meeting your new internet idol turned friend, it would've been foolish to decline.

So in a few hours, you were sporting a nervous smile on your face as you parked your car in front of the largest apartment complex you had ever encountered. It was luxurious in a way you had only seen staring back at you from a television screen, marble, and gold accents giving you the impression you were about to step into a drama set instead of visiting an online friend.

Before the surrealism of the entire situation could begin to set in, however, you noticed the young man sitting on the ample stairs of the building. He had an air of effortless elegance, tall and lithe, yet sporting a black turtleneck which hugged his frame and made it clear just how much sheer strength hid behind his movements.

And he also sported the same peculiarly colored locks you had already memorized from the last few months, the light softly reflecting on them proving to be an even more impressive show when admired live.

You were dazzled for an instant, wondering if, somehow, this entire thing was a prank and the Shou from the forums had just schemed his way into making a fool out of you in front of a handsome stranger. Way too convoluted, yet entirely too plausible to your bewildered self.

Until the man lifted his eyes—as beautifully dual-toned as his hair, and catching sight of you standing just beside your recently parked vehicle.

"Y/N," he was sharply climbing to his feet as he called out your name, the shy hint of a smile in his lip contradicting the monotone cadence of his tone. "Good to finally meet you."

You had first been under the impression that the Shou you knew was cold, the way he interacted with others on the site reminding you of an emotionless robot at times, but the man addressing you seemed like he was ripped straight out of a stereotypical rom-com.

Maybe he'd be the aloof, tormented heir? Which, in your fantasy drama land, would make you the nearly illiterate and poor love interest. Your feelings of inadequacy only grew at the comparison.

Almost cute, how that had been one of your greatest worries once upon a time. How foolishly eager you were to be liked back then.

"Shouto." The name still felt somewhat strange on your lips, even after he had insisted you started calling him that. "It's good to meet you, too."

He was by your side in an instant, taking your bags from you swiftly and shutting the door to your ride. From this up close, it became considerably harder to disguise your staring.

Even the scar which covered his left eye, a splash of reddish textured skin, somehow came across like yet another enhancer of his appeal. An underlying harshness which you couldn't help but be intrigued by.

"Your hair looks even better in person."

And leave it to you to once again find a way to screw first impressions. You were chastising yourself a mere second after the words left your mouth.

But Shouto only sent you that same hint of a smirk your way, his eyes appearing genuinely pleased at your praise. If he thought you were a weirdo and was regretting ever inviting you to his house, then he was a good enough actor for you to be fooled.

And fooled you he did, but with completely different intentions.

"You look just like in your pictures," came his serene retort not long after.

Which you assumed was a joke, keeping in mind that the only photo you had ever sent his way had been of the Purge letter you received a few days ago.

Laughing lightly, you tried to ignore the nerves tugging at your chest before catching up with him on the steps of the building.

As you giddily barged straight into the open jaws of the beast, it once again struck Shouto how utterly unsuspecting you were. How you trusted him so wholeheartedly.

He couldn't wait to see it all come crashing down.

。。。。。

Inside his honest to god penthouse, your previous feeling of insufficiency only became more severe.

The interiors were decorated sparingly, albeit fashionably. Filled with different muted shades and being unexpectedly traditional in the way they were designed. It was a stunning abode, even if you couldn't help but mentally point out how utterly unlived in it appeared.

There was not a single cup, shoe, or book out of place, everything perfectly polished and organized to the point that you felt hesitance as your sock-covered feet continued making their way through the place.

"Make yourself at home," Shouto told you most matter-of-factly. If you weren't so sure of his intentions by now, perhaps you would've thought he was being sarcastic.

Without any of your belongings to distract yourself with, you instead gravitated towards what you could see of the kitchen through one of the sliding doors.

It was very modern despite the rest of the aesthetic the penthouse sported, shiny stainless steel and spotless dark countertops. It should've looked out of place when paired with the carpeted floors, wooden furniture, and sparse pieces of classical Japanese art…

Yet somehow, it strangely fits. Just like his owner, you supposed, thinking back to the oddities that amounted to his unique brand of appeal.

And you really needed to stop thinking of your friend like that.

When you heard the door to the apartment being audibly locked with a resounding click, you instantly stopped your fingers grazing the smooth countertops. Your instincts flared up with worry for a moment, right before you forcefully willed yourself to calm down.

After reminding yourself of the true reason why you were there, the exhale you released next was one of clear relief.

"Want something to drink?" Shouto appeared in your line of sight again, hands buried in the pockets of his pants and looking like the picture of composure.

You felt embarrassed once again, knowing he had given you a free pass to roam but still somewhat self-conscious about intruding on his space.

"You don't need to make me anything. I'm fine." Your timbre was apologetic, not used to slipping into the role of a guest just yet.

He seemed strangely dissatisfied with your answer, closing some of the distance between you with a presence that had you almost flinching back for a second.

There was an intensity in his gaze, something which you could not quite yet place.

"But I want to be a good host. So let me." He appeared very serious about it, too, with his face growing stern as his peculiar eyes bore into yours.

Not wanting to cause further distress, you imagined relenting would be the best course of action.

It was like you were molded to be the perfect Darling, so wonderfully meek and gullible.

"Okay then. Water is fine."

Yet Shouto shook his head, still somewhat dissatisfied with your answer.

"Tea it is." His phrasing allowed little space for argument. "I know you mentioned liking a few brands before, so I took the liberty of stocking up on them."

A surprising burst of laughter broke through your anxious feelings then, drawing Shouto's eyes again from the particular cabinet they had drifted to as he mentioned the beverages.

He looked at you puzzled, an unasked question written all over his otherwise blank expression, and so you decided to reply from the surge of unexpected amusement you were experiencing.

"It's only a night, Shou," you didn't even realize you had slipped back into his nickname, too entertained by how much he had apparently overdone his hospitality. "There really wasn't any need for you to go buy my favorite teas."

His eyes blinked quite slowly your way, his expression back to his vacant mask before a smile reappeared.

"I wanted you to feel welcomed," he supplied as he approached the cabinet he was eyeing before, dedicating himself to searching for whatever kind of flavor of tea he had in mind.

In response, you just shrugged your shoulders with another chuckle.

"And I didn't get you anything. You're making me feel even more out of place."

"Nonsense," he cut you off in that deadpan way of his, hands rummaging through the most ridiculously vast tea collection you had ever seen. And then he added, decidedly quieter, "today is supposed to be about you, after all."

Too bad you didn't pick up on it.

When he ushered you back to the salon with barely a wave next, pointing at one of the cushions arranged around the short-legged table, you decided to follow his suggestion and wait there while he finished brewing the drinks. By now, you understood the futility of offering any kind of help when he was still so intent on properly welcoming you.

So, curious as you were, your eyes continued to inspect each and every inch of the apartment, drinking up all the pieces of info you could observe, that you didn't even think of the potential dangers of letting a stranger fix you a cup while you weren't looking.

Unbeknownst to the other, you were both actively counting down the seconds until the Purge started, minds lost to your own inner turmoils from opposite sides of the suite.

And for entirely different reasons, you were both filled with anticipation.

。。。。。

Meanwhile, finally back in the present after retracing the steps that guided you there, it was becoming increasingly hard to compartmentalize the chaos brewing inside you.

Shouto’s lips were the personification of hunger against yours, an inescapable gluttony to mark and consume every single inch of you he could encompass.

After a hint of understanding returned to your body post-orgasm, your vision and the sensations you endured were becoming disturbingly vivid. It was impossible to conceive anything beyond his hands ridding you of your flimsy camisole, palms cold in comparison to the heat you felt, splaying against your sides and slowly making their way up the sensitive mounds of your chest.

“All mine, baby.” You barely registered his teeth nipping at your bottom lip until a shock of pain snapped you out of your trance.

He bit you, and quite harshly too, but when you tried to instinctually pull back his response was to hold you even tighter. Before you could attempt to voice your complaints, his tongue was darting out to clean up the droplets of blood he spilled.

“Out of all the Darlings I’ve played with, you’re the only one I’ve ever even considered keeping, you know?”

And now that had you freezing, even amidst the cloud of desire still muddling your cognizance. His arms pressed you closer still, forcing you to bury your face against his chest, completely unphased by the bloody mess your mouth had morphed into.

Had he tricked others before then? Was that the reason why he was even on the Forums in the first place?

You wanted to ask him what he meant, wanted to demand explanations for a phrase that had dread closing around your neck like a noose. But whatever he slipped into your drink to keep you so awfully responsive and pliable, also appeared to make forming any complex sentences incredibly hard…

Shou, ever the receptive one, caught onto your change in demeanor rather aptly. His face nuzzled your hair softly, humming a calming melody as if you were a scared child who could be so easily reassured. Meanwhile, his hands hadn’t abandoned your breasts, still tenderly kneading them with a touch bordering on worship.

“But I’m glad you weren’t my first, baby. Means I could be all ready for when we met.” He rocked you both as he rested his back further on the sofa, opening his legs wider below you and forcing you to settle closer to his clothed groin with a whimper.

Your arms reached out to grasp his shoulders while you tried to stabilize yourself, the strain of his erection resting snuggly against your still sensitive slit.

"Helped me to know when to pull back," he kept confessing, purposefully thrusting into you while he kept lovingly massaging your chest, fingers twisting your hardened peaks to coax a new kind of mewl to be uttered against his skin. "Wouldn't want you to break now that I've finally found you."

The fact that your bodies seemed to fit so perfectly, even in your impaired state, was not an irony lost on you.

Abruptly, Shouto stopped fondling your breasts in order to maneuver your face again, both of your stares meeting in a vehement standoff before he continued.

“I’ll make this as close to perfection as I can, I promise you.” And you got a direct view of the vulnerability in his uniquely colored eyes, the nature of his words clearly heartfelt despite the atrocities they alluded to.

As you heard him drag his zipper down, the hand clutching your jaw trembling in anticipation, you couldn’t help the new wave of warmth spreading through your body, negating all the fear and anxiousness warring inside you in order to shamefully expose your baser desires.

Now that whatever had been clouding your judgment was pulling back slightly, your thought process had begun to snap back into place, overflowing you with a terrible sense of shame at your own reactions.

He gave you something earlier with your drink, you were sure of it, and yet you couldn’t help but still be horrified at just how much you were enjoying it. Once you felt the flushed head of his cock placidly rubbing against your thigh, the sounds leaving your mouth weren’t ones of complaint, peril or dissent.

Quite the contrary, actually, and it only made Shouto grow bolder.

As the hand clutching your face grew tenser, gripping you with force before tugging harshly, you got the hint. Now painfully following his lead, it wasn't long before the previous pressure against your legs was now resting directly against your cunt.

The pre-cum already gathered on him mixed in with your still oozing arousal, smearing the span of your outer lips as he lightly teased you one last time.

You were so mortified by that point, that if he had offered to end your embarrassment right then and there with one of the several weapons you knew he kept, you would’ve been very inclined to accept.

“... I didn’t even think there was such a thing as 'The One' before, actually.” You hadn’t even realized the man was still talking, ardent whispers getting lost on the intensity of the situation.

His eyes were searching your face, a satisfied twinkle lighting them up as soon as you returned his stare of your very own volition. Perturbed, you wondered if his delusion made him see anything beyond a twisted mix of lust and fear reflected back at him.

“But I now know just how wrong I was, Y/N.” So sure of himself, tone back to the stern cadence you previously associated with him for a moment, gripped by a gravity befitting of his obsession. “Indeed, I think you were always meant to be my darling… don't you agree?”

To your credit, you did struggle to speak up, to gain back the control over a body which had stopped listening long ago. Too bad you only managed a single pitiful word out.

“Shouto…”

But before you could even fathom attempting a better response, he was breaching into you, sheathing himself with an ease you wished you could overlook, turning your voice from an anguished plea into outrageously labored moans.

You had once thought Shou had been interested in you because he somehow perceived you as anything but pathetic, but you were beginning to think it had been your weakness which drew him in all along.

So deliciously frail, that even a predator like him had been driven with an urgent need to protect you. To break you down, just so he could be the one to build you back together.

As he started fucking you with shallow thrusts, hips bucking up from the sofa while he tenderly guided you until your body was mimicked his motion on its own, you couldn’t help but be the most disturbed at his oddly affectionate ways.

As awful as it sounded, now that your mind had awakened from its stupor all you wanted was for him to bend you over and abuse you, manhandle you and mistreat you in a way which unequivocally screamed assault. You wanted bruises painting your skin, proof that you hadn’t just willingly given up and facilitated your own ruin.

He was humiliating you despite the pretty words he decided to disguise it as—showing you how easily he could own you and even make you enjoy it, drug-addled drink or not.

But as his mouth latched around one of your hardened nipples, sucking generously until his name was once again fast on your tongue, you also couldn’t deny the crystal clear responses you were giving.

You could attempt to lie to yourself later, could swear it was all a delusion born out of the deranged man's mind, but the particular brand of your screams was unmistakable.

When your own hand reached down to facilitate your release, you knew you were already acting beyond what you could've previously attributed to the drugs. Toying with your bundle of nerves, you rested your forehead against Shouto's shoulders, tears from the pleasure mixing in with the subjacent agony of your guilt.

Why did it have to feel so good? And how far did the drugs truly affect you? Or had they just peeled back your inhibitions perhaps, baring you until all you had were dark desires and no self-control to contain them.

You still tasted blood inside your mouth when your walls started clenching around his cock, the coppery flavor entirely too vivid on your tongue. Hearing his own choked groans gasping against your chest, you felt his mouth abandoning your bud with a pop before his kisses were trailing a path back up—eager in their search of your face, your lips.

You were still cumming by the time a lascivious kiss connected you two again, unwinding in his grasp until his hands were the only thing keeping you whole.

“Even if I wasn't taught how,” he began promising while his rhythm grew frantic, barely resisting the allure of your core fluttering around him. “I promise I’ll love you, Y/N. Love you so good, you won’t ever want to leave when the next Purge comes.” He was getting increasingly excited by his own words, imagining a future where you did not need the aid of a little cup of tea to eagerly kiss back. “I’ll fuck you every day, fill you up and show you just how much I care. How much you matter.”

Faced with his degenerate promises, all you could do was gasp out his name one last time, perhaps seeking to express your reticence, perhaps oddly excited by the image he was painting.

You indulged him in the pitiful sound of your whimpers molding around its syllables, and it wasn’t long before you were coaxing him to join you with an orgasm of his own.

He actually came inside, you recognized inwardly after the aftershocks of enjoyment now quieted down to a lull, a new type of dread quickly following the realization. His cum was still shooting in hot ropes, stuffing you to the brim with the intent and purpose of a man bent on marking you, owning you.

But Shouto was so loving as he kissed you time and time again, painfully reminding you of just how nice he could be for you, how gentle and attentive. It made the lines between your tormentor and a traditional lover blur even further, the confusion clouding your sense not merely born out of narcotics any longer.

You had been so preoccupied with a monster outside your house once. A creature ripped from the kind of movies that were ripe with cheap scares and considerably cheaper thrills.

But monsters never were like that in real life, were they? As the man continued to cradle you in his arms like the most vulnerable of creatures, you were suddenly struck by how glaringly obvious things should’ve been from the beginning.

Because your Yandere’s obsession had not come with claws and a row of sharp teeth. No, it came instead with a suit of deception to hug its frame, the bait of acceptance, and the promise of a reliable ear to comfortably listen. It arrived with whispers that assured you that you were not alone, that it was not you who was flawed, but the world for not welcoming you.

It dangled everything your little heart desired, so by the time you were reaching out, you were simply too distracted to notice the dangers of the abyss you were throwing yourself at.

Luckily for you, Shouto had made such a void his home. And for however long it took you to consider the darkness as your own, his was a kind of hospitality that no amount of your struggles could ever hope to wear down.

And if the worst came to pass, if you kept stubbornly refusing and fighting despite your odds? Well…

He could always brew you another cup of tea.

-------

Well, I can finally rest now 💀

This monster of a one-shot took me a lot longer than expected, so I ended up being a lil later to the collab that I would’ve liked. Either way, I’d really appreciate hearing any feedback or opinions on either the fic or art (or both?)... I swear that’s what keeps me motivated ;___;

So fr, thanks to everyone who takes the time to let me know your takes! y’all are the bests of the best 🖤 And speaking of bests of best, special thanks and gratitude to the actual angels who helped and gave me feedback for both the art and/or fic @reinawritesbnha , @drxwsyni, @wootato, @snappysnapo and @coyambition. Don’t catch me seeing y’all drop your crowns bc it’s on sight 😠 👑

#bnha fanart #todoroki #yandere todoroki #todoroki x reader #bnha imagines #bnha #mha fanart #bnha x reader #todoroki fanart #todoroki smut #todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #anime fanart #bnha smut #bnha art #artists on tumblr #just art tingz

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urimaginespimp · 3 years

Text

His Hidden Gem pt 2

Alfie Solomons x Reader – to the rest of the world, well excluding Thomas of course, he was dead. That was until Tommy had an unexpected visitor who claims to be his wife.

Read part 1 here

--------

“Margate? I bet he hates it there.” You commented, riding shotgun next to a driving Mr. Shelby.

He didn’t comment, but a ghost of a smile appeared on his face. He had to admit, at first, he didn’t quite see how you and Alfie managed to be married for seven years, but after listening to your ramblings while on your drive, he could see it now.

Your demeanor screamed dainty and rich. And yes, you are rich, but also near as crazy as Alfie.

“How long have you known that he’s alive?” You asked.

“When he sent me a letter asking me how Cyril was, though I doubt he remembers doing so.” He recalled. “And come to think of it now, he did also ask if the talks about his death was all the news people of Camden had about him. I think he was trying to know if people had discovered about your marriage.”

“Please enlighten me Mrs. Solomons, on how you both met.” Curiosity got the best of him.

You couldn’t stop your smile at the memory.

“Well if you must know, I was set to be betrothed to a man whose bare bottom only touched the finest of fabrics…” Thomas snorted at this. “I refused, saying I didn’t want to spend my life papmered next to a grown baby’s powdered bum all my life, got cut off and was left with practically nothing.” You both chuckled.

“I ended up in Camden town, and intended to steal some bread in this poorly lit bakery, but ended up in a bargain with this weirdly attractive man, that he’d find me a place to stay if I go out for dinner with him. Three months later we got married. But because we chose to keep it secret, it was always just secret visits in each other’s places.”

“I rarely give compliments, Y/N. But I admire you for taking matters into your own hands in finding the truth. Even though seven months is a long time.”

“We all crave certainty.” You simply answered. There was a reason why it took you that long. And they were left in Camden under the care of a good friend who had no clue who their father was.

And If you had to be honest, you were trying to calm your nerves. You thank the universe that your husband is alive, but given how he’s gone so long without even trying to reach out, the question whether he’d still want you lingered.

“Should I just have settled with the information that he is alive?” You whispered to yourself.

“You’ll never know unless you actually go talk to him.” Thomas answered, having heard what you’ve said. “And you should, because I’m a stubborn gypsy man who rarely does favors, but I did this for the wife of a man who’s been a dick to me once or twice. Consider this opportunity lucky.”

“Why are you helping me then?”

“Well I’m not as heartless as I may seem. I once had a wife I dearly love before she took a bullet for me.” You offered your sympathy, and he continued. “Plus, I’m curious about seeing the Alfie Solomons possibly getting hit from a woman as small as you are.” He smirked at the thought, and you smiled in return.

“We never laid a hand on each other, Mr. Shelby. Not unless one asked to.” Thomas coughed at what you insinuated, but was clearly amused. “Though I might just need to slap this one out later.”

You didn’t know at which part of the long drive you fell asleep, but the next thing you know, Thomas Shelby was trying to wake you up.

“Oi lady.” He was waving a hand in front of your face for who knows how long. “I believe you have a husband to confront.”

Composing yourself, you slowly got out of the car. You were in the driveway of his house. From outside it was decent. Might even be a lot better than where Alfie was living in Camden.

Once you were both by the front door, you were starting to panic.

“You do think I’m making the right decisions, right?”

“I think a man who has chosen to be presumed dead without telling his wife owes her an explanation.” He nodded.

Mr. Shelby took to initiative to knock. Followed by another. And another one.

“Who are you and what the fuck do you want?” you heard your husband’s voice and his footsteps approaching.

“It’s Thomas. I brought you one of your treasures left in Camden.” He didn’t give you away, not risking not even getting the door opened.

Alfie swung the door open. “What the hell are you ta-…” he faltered once he saw you standing next to Thomas.

You were also frozen in place.

Tommy was looking back and forth the both of you, probably waiting for the said slap to happen. You were too shocked, looking at your husbands face. Half of it now sits with scars, and an eye that was now missing the blue you love staring into.

“Y/N?” Mr. Shelby asked. This thankfully brought you back to your senses.

“Well how the hell am I to slap him if his face looks like that?!” You yelled, still looking at Alfie.

“Well he was the one who shot me on the face you admire so much, luv.” Alfie answered, still intensely staring at you. You snapped your head at Thomas, who brought his arms up in defense and started backing away.

“He asked me to.” He defended. “I think I’ll wait in the car. You two sort your marital stuff.”

Now left alone with each other, he gestured for you to come in and you obliged. But as soon as he closed the door behind him, you have thrown your shoe at the wall at his side.

“Luv, I-“

“What the fuck, Alfie?!” You yelled at him, your voice trembling. “You have the audacity to fucking call me that after not even reaching out? What, did you like your new house here so much, you forgot you had a wife?!”

Like a treacherous bitch, hot tears started spilling on your face. Alfie still stood by the closed door, looking at anywhere but you.

“If you didn’t want me anymore, the least you could’ve done was tell me.” No, out of all the scenarios you could’ve imagined, you never imagined yourself to be the first one to break upon seeing him again. But here you were. A mess.

“Of course, I still love you.” That was all he could barely whisper.

“You have a minute to tell me everything, Alfie Solomons, or you’d be dead to me forever.” You were still crying angry tears, but the determination on your face scared Alfie to the core. He knew you were dead serious.

He started pacing back and forth while your eyes followed. He wasn’t trying to come up with an excuse, but was rather trying to figure out where to start.

A moment had passed and you took it as your cue to leave. Sighing in defeat, you shook your head and was about to head out the door forever when he caught your arm.

“I didn’t want to burden you, okay? I- I was feeling a little funny and one day I went to the doctor and he said I had this fucker called cancer.” You were frozen on your spot, looking at him, bewildered at the revelation.

“Now how could I be a good husband when I couldn’t even take care of my fucking self.” He looked away when a tear started to fall.

It was rare for your beast of a husband to shed a tear - he dreaded showing that side of him. So you knew that news of his illness really took a toll on him.

“Oh, Alfie…” You whispered, softly cupped his scarred face.

“I didn’t marry you to become what I refused to marry into years ago. You know how much I love you. You were never and will never be a burden to us.” He finally took you in his arms.

“Us?” He caught on what you said, a glimmer on his face.

“Don’t worry my love, I tell the twins about you all the time.” You smiled at the thought of how Alfie would be a mush of a father to them.

“You were pregnant?” He pulled away and started to wiped away your tears with his thumb.

“I was three months long when you disappeared. I was hoping to find you sooner, but I just gave birth a month ago.”

“No, Y/N , I’m the one that’s sorry.” He insisted, showering your face with pecks.

“You’re going to be a great father, love.” You smiled at him.

“But half of the face you love so much is all gone now too. Hell, how am I even supposed to look after twins when I only have one seeing eye?” He stated, making you chuckle.

“Well lucky for you, I actually think the scar makes you even more attractive.” You smiled, touching them. “As for the eye, you have me. I never said you have to take care of them both at once.” You both chuckled.

“I'd hate to admit it, but I owe Thomas Shelby.” He answered and you nodded in agreement.

“We should probably invite him in, luv. We’re starting to seem rude leaving the king of Birmingham outside.” You chuckled.

“You know..." He started, tucking loose har beehind your ear. "I once said that hell would look like Margate, but I think it would actually be lovely if we finally settle here and have a place to call our own. No more sneaking around, no secret visits.”

“I'd love that.” You answered pulling him down for a kiss.

“Life is so much easier to deal with when you are dead.” He whispered.

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jamestrmtx · 3 years

Text

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Six | Dogbass (Part 2 of 2 | His POV)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

They stand up like an undead from their grave, almost stumbling to get back to their feet and taking up all the strength they have left to stare at the man with a somber gaze. One look at their face tells they're about to either blow up or faint, the latter Sans assumes more of them based on what he knew about them so far. He stays closer by as a result and tries not to intervene yet, finding himself watching by the sidelines as he always seemed to do even before his life here on the Surface.

"I'm aware I can't just trust these people easily, but that doesn't mean they aren't worthy of being heard." They take a breath far too shaky and followed by a pause far too lasting. "I… I may not be the best (mother/father) out there, but I do care. And I'll show that by making sure I'm aware of the monsters' actions while still allowing my child to keep being friends with them." The skeleton takes his gaze elsewhere when he notices a camera flash from nearby. The owners behind those devices, most recording and some taking snaps of the scene, are either snickering or left with their mouths agape as they continue to engrave the scene both in their phones and minds. "I'll accept whatever decision CPS makes in terms of Frisk's safety, but for now, I…" The human interrupts their own sentence when they stumble, cutting his idea of dealing with those nosy people short. "I…"

They take a slow step back, huff out an exhausted breath, and -- without missing a beat -- stumble again and fall back. The skeleton takes a leap and stands behind them, nulling their fall with his own body. The last words to leave them are incoherent mumbles, and their half-lidded eyes close shut as they press their face against his chest for support.

The man continues with his rant regardless, pricking some annoyance into Sans's mind as he attempts to tune out the noise and concentrate more on the human in his arms.

"Hey," he calls out, louder the second time when it goes unheard. "Can you stay quiet for a sec? They're sick."

"Oh, they're sick alri-"

"He said shut up."

A familiar voice helps him deal with the man, though he doesn't care over who the person is right now. Instead, he drags the fainted human with him back to an empty seat and thanks another when she offers hers. As more people spread out, he's provided with more space to spread their body across the seats left out for them, taking up three in total.

"(Y/N)?"

His call is responded to by another mumble, much weaker and quieter than the last. He sighs and takes their face with one hand, using the other to keep their body from falling off. "Can you open your eyes for me, please? I need you to look at me."

Sans reminds himself of their satchel and turns his gaze around to see the man he'd given up his seat to's thought the same way as him. He gives it to him and helps keep (Y/N) in place while he takes a look inside, retrieving a first aid kit from its contents. The monster whispers a blessing under his breath and turns back around, nodding for the man to step back to his seat while he returns to tending to the fainted human. "Thank you."

The man nods back and receives help from the earlier woman as he limps back to his seat. Hushed fighting noises can be heard between the man who started the fight and the man quelling it, though once more, the skeleton can care less about the owner of that voice as he tries to focus more on the situation at hand. "(Y/N)," he calls out, louder this time. "Do somethin' if you can still hear me."

Another quiet mumble leaves their mouth as they furrow their gaze, likely troubled by a pointed headache -- or what could be a migraine at this point. He stops crouching and kneels next to them instead, taking a few more items from their belongings after he's settled himself next to them. A soft but sudden swerve from the bus sends them too close to the edge, though he manages to gather some Karma from the earlier event, strong enough for him to create a barrier and keep them from following off the makeshift hospital bed. His hands are shaking, though he doesn't acknowledge it. Be it from the agreement's terms looming over him or the human in his hands far too weak for them to last another hour -- or a mixture of both -- he's not initially sure of, but another look at their scrunched up face and how their expression's furrow turns far more harsh and denoting of their ill state makes him dismiss the consequences of the agreement and concentrate more on the health of the human he was barely just getting to know well enough as a potential friend.

He sits down on another of the few empty chairs left out for him and suspends his body over theirs, struggling to meet with their face due to the difference in height despite how little it is compared to most of the people he knew. The human was no taller than his brother, but even then they were still tall enough to make him out to be the shortest when compared with them. His hand reaches out for their face again, and he comes across a cold, cold temperature, sufficient for his soul to jolt in response to it. People around seem to notice what's going on -- be it for his expression or not he isn't paying attention to now though -- and tell the bus driver to hurry, heightening the possibility of a bumpier ride, but leveling out the risks of the human dying on the spot.

While the bus continues to move, the monster continues to find more ways for helping with the situation. He starts by performing CPR on them, but carries on with his original plan when the human doesn't respond to the treatment. He goes off to prepare some alcohol swabs by dousing a few cotton balls and pads with the substance and pressing one after another against their nose, until they manage to cough and open their eyes, even if just a little and even if they end up closing these again.

The monster breathes out a sigh as he realizes it's not lack of oxygen but rather weakness overall, weighing down on their body hard enough to make their breathing scarce and their body and mind equally unresponsive. A shiver crosses with his spine when he imagines the state they could've ended up in had Frisk gone missing for longer than they had. If almost two months of their absence had caused this much of a change in (Y/N)'s health, another one more could've likely been enough to end their life, be it accidentally or -- harder to think about -- purposefully.

"Please, do somethin' again if you can still hear me," he says, setting those thoughts aside.

A hand reaches for his own when he says that, landing just the right amount of gentle for it to pass off as a winter breeze or a ghost's touch.

It doesn't squeeze at his nor does it move from that spot, but that action alone of having their hand move that much helps him relax some more while he waits to arrive at a hospital.

• • •

"What's your relationship with (miss/mister) (L/N)?" the nurse asks.

"I'm an acquaintance," he replies, obtaining a cautious look from the man.

It's made clear that, with how quick he is to bring that question up hardly seconds after seeing the mentioned person be taken away for emergency care, he's eager to set things straight -- and fast.

The monster stretches when the nurse leaves, in dire need of that after carrying the human all the way from the bus stop to the hospital's entrance. The nurse, on the other hand, prepares all the necessary documents for their stay at the front desk, leaving him alone to observe the hospital's indoors from where he's told to wait at, from the white interior to the distinctive smell of sterility. Even the few people who'd helped the monster with the situation at the train stay close by, some sitting by the waiting room with him and others standing near the doorway, but without obstructing any other potential emergency or those going in and out.

When the nurse returns with the papers, Sans takes out the agreement letter and shows it to him. He receives an almost immediate answer as to what the nurse thinks about his relationship with the patient just by the apologetic look on his face, directed at the letter as he reads through it. His face scrunches up, and he offers that look at the monster before giving the letter back to him. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait nearby while a family member or a partner gets here. Have you contacted anyone yet?"

"Yeah." He nods, hands slipping into his pockets as per custom, though now's more of a nervous tick rather than how it tended to be: relaxed and unbothered. "Their aunt should be here soon."

"How soon, sir?"

"Uh, like…" He checks his phone. "Like four hours. It'd take longer, but one of my friends is gonna pick up their kid later to help her get 'ere quicker."

The nurse crosses his arms, sighs, and gives a knowing yet heartfelt look at him. "What can you do to prove you're trustworthy, then? I need someone we can trust to test something on the patient." His eyes narrow as he scrutinizes the skeleton's face and overall attire. "You're a scientist, right?"

"Used to be."

"Good enough for the occasion. Could you come here with me for a second? There's something we think could help your friend out, but we need the approval of someone knowledgeable from the Underground -- someone who knows better about this kind of stuff than we do." He lets his arms go and eases his expression with a smile. "If you do that, you can check on the patient soon -- with a nurse's close supervision, of course."

Not really giving too much thought to the situation, Sans shrugs and agrees with an 'alright'. "What's your doubt?" he asks.

"I need to show it to you," the nurse replies. "It's about a strange substance discovered in some humans after they fall to the Underground."

Sans accompanies the man to his desk, who takes a small set of keys from his back pocket, unlocks the bottom drawer, and motions for him to stand close by. "It has a rather… risky medical history, so we wanted to ask someone with more knowledge before doing anything too rash." From there, he takes out a thin but tall, unlabeled glass bottle and leaves an empty syringe behind. Just from the neon red colour of the substance and its viscosity, both qualities able to be seen thanks to the material it's contained in, Sans already has his answer: no.

Determination was far from safe when injected on rather than when it naturally came to be. Even humans could feel the aftereffects of such a strong substance in their veins, and for most monsters, it was either lethal, fatal, or dangerous enough to deform them for life. He hesitates at the thought of it being used for malicious reasons, but eases up a bit when taking into account how the nurse is practically showing his discovery to him without any need for secrets or lies. He assumes that -- if the man were to have any bad intentions -- he wouldn't simply be flaunting the substance around or acting that nonchalant about its existence.

"It's not safe," is the first thing he says, words almost rushing from his teeth. "Injecting that to a human -- or anyone, actually -- is taking a huge risk. That substance should come naturally, and not by injecting it into the subject's body."

The nurse frowns, but relents. He sets the bottle back where it was, closes the drawer, and locks it back down. Then, he turns back to the monster and adds, "So considering those risks, you agree the treatment's off the question for this patient?"

"Definitely. It's better to do some more research before getting in on anythin', even if some of our past scientists did experiment with that substance at the Underground."

Nodding, he steps aside from the desk and gestures for the skeleton to follow him off to the hallway, far from the entrance and the waiting rooms. As they both walk, the man stays quiet and appears lost in thought, though that changes when he stops meeting the floor during his daze and asks, "Could you at least give me more details on this substance later, then?"

Sans agrees with a quiet hum, not in uncertainty, but due to being lost in thought himself. "As long as it ain't used on anybody for testin', then sure. We can work on that."

The man stops walking and lights up with a smile. "Excellent!" he exclaims, almost beaming in response. "Follow me to the patient's room. I'll have another one of our nurses watch over you while I'm gone."

He smiles back, though a bit late due to the topic still occupying his mind. "Thank you."

• • •

The room's North Pole cold, bleak, and dimly lit, though the latter's fixed when the nurse meant to watch over him passes through the hallway. She turns a few more lights on and stands in front the open door, greeting him with a stern gaze. A notepad rests in her arms, written on to such an extent that there's more ink rather than paper.

In enters the woman, brown skinned and brunette compared to the pale and ginger haired man from earlier ago. Wrinkles can be seen on her face, revealing her to be older compared to the seemingly novice nurse who attended him before. A few grey hairs stick out this way and that, though her professionally tidy bun masks most of it away with a scrunchie.

"Stay in that chair, sir, and don't get near the patient," she demands, staring down at him. "And please hand over the agreement letter. We require a copy of it to have proof of your acquaintanceship with the patient."

He does as told, both in terms of keeping his distance from (Y/N) and in giving her the letter. "Why the distance, though?" he asks. "Is it somethin' contagious?"

"No." Her forbidding look deepens and almost turns to a glare. "We simply do not want you touching the patient unless it is absolutely necessary."

It takes him a second to process the sentence, though he nods after that's done with. "I understand." He walks to where she points at, though stays standing as he continues to talk with her. "Could I know what's their condition, then? It... kinda looked like a panic attack, but then they also told me they didn't eat or sleep well for the past two months."

Appearing surprised for just a moment, the woman returns to her sedate expression as she checks her notepad again. "Well…" She huffs. "You're not too far off. Both of their symptoms combined and worsened each other out, which resulted in them becoming that weak." She then takes out a cellphone from her pocket and unlocks it, tapping on the screen a few times before having a sound play, likely from a recent, viral video based on what's spoken throughout it. "Would you care to look at this recording for a minute? One of the witnesses present during the incident caught you acting rather… strangely with the patient." The nurse gives the phone over, though she hesitates when her hand brushes with his, an act of hesitation masked by a stern visage.

The first thing he sees when replaying the video is nothing out of the ordinary given the situation displayed: him giving CPR to someone in need of that treatment. It's not until he remembers how touchy such a subject can be considering the factors of who he is and his reputation on the Surface -- and even more so when taken out of context -- that he understands why she's made that comment. "I was giving 'em CPR. Be a bit weird if it'd be doing anythin' else considerin' the situation, don't ya think?" He looks up from the video of him placing pressure on their chest and giving them mouth-to-mouth (or at least, his technically was one, taking into account that thing he could do with his skull whenever he ate or drank something; it was a thing most of the comments on Phrasebook talked about rather than over what's happening to the human in need: the strange malleability of the monster's skull, with some others questioning over how he could even be performing CPR despite not having any lungs) as he tries to bring air back into their system, and holds back the urge to point out how obvious that situation is. "What's wrong with that?"

"Couldn't have someone else done it? There were plenty of people present."

"I'd say that's a bit of an insensitive question to ask after what they've been through."

"Answer my question, sir."

Sans sighs and hands the phone back to her. "It was a moment of high tension. I couldn't help what happened back there, and if I did wait 'til someone else showed up, that would heighten the chances of me losing 'em before they could get 'ere."

"Maybe so, but that first treatment gave no results. They remained in a coma until you rubbed alcohol on their nose. If you knew that would work, then why did you not do that in the first place?"

"Same reason why I didn't wait 'til someone else came to give 'em CPR. It was a moment of rush n' panic."

"But you were still-"

"...Sans?"

For what has to be the first time since meeting the human, the monster feels relieved at hearing them call him by his casual name. It's a faint and strained attempt, revealing they've used all their strength just to call out for him. Never he would've imagined feeling so pleased at hearing a still-to-be friend's voice, nor does he allow himself to let his other type of imagination run wild, one related to the warmth he feels in his soul when turning to their side and seeing them awake -- weak and confused, but still there.

"What happened?" they ask, frowning. "Are… Are you okay?"

He tries to approach them, though he soon receives a warning from the nurse not to. "I'm, uh… I'm alright," he says, replying from the distance of the chair he's been told to sit on. "Don't really think it's helpful to ask this, but… What about you?"

They chuckle and a smile keeps itself on their face. "Everything hurts, but I feel way better than I did back at the bus."

He grins. "This's probably a wild guess, but has it gotta do with having no one screamin' at you?"

They nod and let their smile grow, albeit at the cost of triggering a sudden and visibly acute headache. "Definitely," they reply.

"And having nobody else gossipin' about it?"

"That, too." Their smile fades as they say that. "Could you... come over here for a moment?"

Sans spares a glance at the nurse, only to receive a quick nod in approval and a hint of a smile. Though left unsure as to what's caused such a sudden change in her temperament, he takes up the opportunity without protest and stands next to (Y/N), waiting for them. "What's up?" he asks.

The human makes an effort to stand up, but fails soon after. To make up for that, they reach out for his hand and squeeze it, smile making its comeback as they reply with, "Thank you." A pause follows as they let go of his hand, tucking theirs under the sheets. "You've acted far sweeter than that dog we met at the park today."

"Settin' some high standards here, huh?"

They let out a laugh. "It… hurts when I do this." So instead, they grin. "Never thought being happy would be so painful."

The skeleton grins back at them and quirks an iris, estranged by their feelings and their choice of words alike. "Even after what you've been through today?"

They nod. "Even after all that, I'm... I'm happy now."

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

• • •

Hope y'all have a decent New Year's Eve! This's the last update of this year, so here's to wishing 2021 is a little bit better for all of us. It's unrealistic to say things will be back to normal at the drop of a hat, but there's no harm in staying hopeful for a better future.

Take care, and stay safe! ❤️

• • •

Tag List (Comment or message me if you want to be added to it!)

@the-simp-express

@nektotersh

#sans x reader #undertale x reader #lgbt #lgbt themes #gender neutral reader #male reader #female reader #mother reader #father reader #parent reader #chubby reader #long fic #romcom #adventure #mystery #platonic relationships #slow burn

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ambientstars · 4 years

Text

In need of a friend - part 2

(Dark!13 x f!reader)

Gif credit: @queerthasmin

Note: how do you write a peeing scene without it being awkward? Anyway, here’s the second part of the series, the previous part can be found here. Enjoy!

Warnings: just a lot of angst I guess?

- - -

You’d been trapped in the room for what felt like a lifetime, the lack of windows to give judgment on time due to the light and colour of the sky meant that you couldn’t know for sure how long you’d really been there.

It was quiet, too quiet. You’d fiddled with the radio on the bookshelf, but nothing happened, not even static came from the small speakers. Nothing else in the room, except your breathing, provided sound.

It was unnerving to be somewhere so silent you could hear a pin drop, the hairs on your arms and the back of your neck stood on end, your muscles tense, just waiting for something to scare you, to break the silence that weighed heavily in your ears.

Your finger delicately traced the spines of the old books on the shelf beside you, your eyes following behind as you quickly read the titles. Your curiosity piqued at one in particular, it’s deep red cover mottled, the golden lettering that read the art of science beginning to fade where it had been handled so much.

The book was heavy, it’s hardback cover adding to its weight, but it was ultimately the thousands of thin sheets of paper inside that gave it its body. It certainly wasn’t a light read, it’s owner clearly fond of lengthy reading sessions or perhaps a long time of short bursts of reading a few chapters here and there.

It also suggested that the owner was smart and a lover of science, it’s contents informative and filled with jargon you couldn’t even begin to understand.

With a sigh, you returned the book to its original position and continued your finger’s journey across the rest of the reading material available to you. Again you paused, this time pulling out a book that you knew from your childhood. A ghost of a smile played at your lips as you traced the title Mary Poppins, the memories of sitting down at bedtime as a child and leaning into your father's embrace as he read aloud to you coming back and filling you with a warmth you so desperately needed.

You took the book over to the bed and made yourself comfortable, your legs crossed and the book in your lap, just like you did as a kid. Inside, the pages were scribbled with almost illegible writing in red ink, questions like the bag is bigger on the inside? And sonic… umbrella? written in the margin, and unfamiliar words such as TARDIS and timelord wedged between the typed writing of the story.

You could hardly read the story, the red of the ink pulling your focus away from the intended words. You huffed in irritation, snapping the book shut and flopping back down onto the bed, your head hitting the soft pillow.

The one thing that could’ve brought you joy in this less than ideal situation, ruined.

You sat up abruptly at the sound of the door unlocking for the second time you’d been put here, your heart picking up speed in anticipation and your hand quickly pushing the book under your pillow in case you weren’t meant to have touched it, scared what your punishment might be.

Just like before, the small blonde woman came into the room with a gentle smile. In her hands, another offering of food and drink to which she placed carefully in the same spot as before on the bedside table, her thin fingers pushing the plate away from the edge so it didn’t fall to the floor.

You watched silently, waiting for her to say something, anything to break the tension that was rapidly building in the room.

The stranger’s face was soft and blemish free, young in appearance although her eyes held quite the opposite. She looked sad. Not the type of sad that made a person cry uncontrollably or hide away behind a mask of false happiness, she seemed the kind of sad beyond those stages, the kind that left you feeling numb and hopeless for any emotion other than despair.

A feeling of empathy spiked within your chest, your stomach sinking. It felt wrong to feel bad for the person who had captured you and held you hostage against your will, but something about her made you want to reach out and hold her hand.

She turned and made her way back to the door without a word, her head tilted towards the ground. She moved slowly, unafraid of what you might do to her with her back turned to you, uncaring if she experienced a sudden attack from behind, not that she would fight back at all.

“Wait!” You spoke before you thought, the words panicked and quick, almost slurring.

She stopped in her tracks, half way out of the door. Her head turned and she looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to continue to explain your outburst.

“I er… I need to pee.”

You inwardly cringed, hating yourself for even opening your mouth at all. You hadn’t planned what you were going to say, all of it so sudden, and quick thinking was never one of your strong suits, but a trip to the bathroom would be greatly appreciated.

She frowned for a moment and then softened her face once again, forcing a smile. “Of course, follow me.”

Her voice wasn’t anything like you expected, and yet it was much better. The subtle accent, the smoothness, all of it hitting your ears perfectly.

You scrambled up from the bed and followed behind her as she left the room, taking a sharp right and gesturing to the door right next to the one you had just exited. You barely had a chance to look around before she opened the new door for you and stared until you made your way in.

It felt odd to be in a new location, but the change of scenery, if only for a few minutes, made you sigh in relief. Your eyes studied everything in the bathroom, taking in the dark blue walls and white porcelain facilities and again you realised, no windows.

It felt awkward trying to rush, knowing someone was waiting for you on the other side of the door, but you tried to give yourself enough time to revel in this bit of freedom you’d been granted.

You turned on the sink and washed your hands, enjoying the way the warm, clean water felt on your skin. You splashed some on your face in an attempt to wash off the muggy feeling all the crying had left there, your skin feeling refreshed immediately after. You knew you’d need a shower soon, but decided not to push your luck. You’d just have to ask your capturer another time.

You wiped your hands dry on the hand towel beside the sink and opened the door, the blonde stranger waiting just outside, her shoulder leant against the wall. She smiled small and gestured back in the direction of what you now presumed to be your room.

You didn’t dare run off or even so much as make a movement that would have her believe you were going to run off, walking with careful precision back into the bedroom and placing yourself back onto your spot on the bed. You’d seen enough movies to know that if you made an attempt to escape now, your life could be ended.

The blonde came into the room also, perching herself on the edge of the part of the bed furthest away from you, her back facing you. It seemed odd to have her follow you and make herself somewhat comfortable now after only having been in and out wordlessly before, but you said nothing, again waiting for her to speak and break the silence.

“I’m…” she fiddled with the sleeves of her coat, her head hanging solemnly. “I’m sorry.”

Those were the last words you expected to hear from her, but here she sat, apologising with a genuineness that made your heart hammer and your palms grow sweaty.

“Why am I here?” You had so many questions, too many to think of in this impromptu moment. You knew that eventually you’d ask them and demand an answer whatever it took, but for now you kept your voice quiet and allowed her the time to answer.

She sighed heavily. Her shoulders were slumped and her hair fell over her face, blocking your view from her somber expression. “I just need a friend.”

Taglist: @another-doctor-who-blog @queerconfusionthings

#13th doctor #thirteeth doctor #jodie whittaker #doctor who imagine #dark!thirteen #dw imagine #dark!13 #doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor x reader #13 x reader

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inkslingerharry · 5 years

Text

Yellow Days

Harry needs to touch up his tiger thigh tattoo, and he’s recommended to Y/N, a tattoo artist who just started up her own tattoo shop. Harry is nearly unable to hold himself together during consultation and while Y/N touches up his tattoo. After all, Y/N is an attractive, witty, and fiery woman who also happens to own a Britney Spears shirt.

thank you to @for-fucks-sake-h @yes-daddy-i-willl and @tandy-mikaelson for being beta readers, y’all are the best and mean so so much to me, thank you for doing this.

leave feedback

**warning: there are mentions of mature content, blood, and tattoos/needles

here’s nearly 9k of sexual tension!

“Just a touch up?” She asks, slipping her glasses from her face to her hair, pushing back a few stray strands, looking across her desk that’s currently littered with papers, sketches, folders, the sort.

Harry nods, lightly tapping his knuckles against his knee, trying to maintain eye contact as best he could.

A friend had recommended Harry visit Y/N’s shop after he mentioned how faded his tiger tattoo had gotten. He played back the memory, nervous as he remembered how his friend had disclosed that the artist was fairly new, just opened up her own shop. He was surprised when he walked through the doors, taking off his sunglasses and looking around the establishment; it wasn’t like Harry to check out such a new artist. But he wanted the tattoo done. Plus, he figured, it would be cheaper.

He didn’t really have an idea of who Y/N was, other than looking through her work on Instagram and her portfolio on her website. She was a damn good artist for being so new to the game. After making a consulting appointment with a woman behind a tiny desk near the front, Harry was ready to see Y/N for himself. He had heard amazing remarks from his friend and this new woman, who had only been working for Y/N for five months.

“Do you mind if I ask why the original artist can’t do it?” Y/N questions, leaning forward and resting her arms on her desk over a red folder.

Despite being a tattoo artist, her arms were bare. Harry could spot a tiny line of ink on the inside of her arm, just above the crook of her elbow. The rest was hidden by the sleeve of her maroon button up. He wondered what else she was hiding under her clothes, where the rest of her tattoos were. Every other person he’s been with was covered in ink, yet the woman in front of him looked like an empty canvas.

As Harry glanced back up to meet her eyes, he’s taken aback. She never broke eye contact with him unless necessary, and when she was looking at him, she seemed… bored, unconcerned, restless. It was like she had better things to do.

“He’s been really busy lately. His schedule has been so full of appointments that he doesn’t time time for me,” Harry responded, bringing his hand up and scratching at the end of his nose twice, a habit he developed when he was nervous.

Y/N nodded, reaching forward, her eyes finally leaving Harry’s as she moved a few papers haphazardly. One paper fell to the floor in front of Harry, landing at his feet after fluttering back and forth a few times.

He quickly picked it up without thinking, leaning and bending forward to grasp the edge of it. When he emerged above the desk again, Y/N was looking at him, but not his eyes this time. When she saw him scan her face briefly, her eyes slightly widened and she took the paper that was being offered to her. She busied herself right away.

“Did you draw that?” Harry motioned towards the sketch he had just picked up, which was already thrown onto the desk in a disorganized manner.

“Yeah,” she answered, scattering a few more papers before finding what she was looking for: a label maker.

“It’s beautiful. What kind of flower is it?” Harry asked, hoping he wasn’t stepping over an imaginary boundary.

“A peony,” Y/N said, inclining herself forward so Harry could take the label maker from her hand. “Just type out your name.”

It was hard to read her. He wanted to find out more about her, see more of her art, know why she was a bit harsh on the outside. Harry could never really read her face which was different for him. Everyone seemed to be an open book except her.

“What if I misspell it?”

“Then I guess I’ll refer to you as Hatty Styles then,” she quipped, not wasting a breath.

He gave a quick laugh, looking down to read the letters on the tiny keyboard. He liked how quick she was, how it seemed like her humor left no survivors. She had wit, and Harry admired that.

“Alright,” he whispered loudly, handing the label maker back over the desk to her. She examined it in seconds before pressing a button and setting it to the side. The little machine started whirring.

“Have a preference in color?” She asked, scooting her chair back and opening a drawer in her filing cabinet.

“What?”

“Folder color,” she answered simply, thumbing over a few colors. “Purple, red, green, blue, black, or yellow?”

Harry shook his head, finding the entire scenario a little disorienting. “Yellow, I guess.”

“Last yellow one,” she commented, bringing herself forward again.

“I’m honored,” Harry joked, placing his hand over his chest dramatically. He was rewarded with the tiniest ghost of a smile from Y/N. His heart and pride soared.

Y/N picked up the label maker and ripped off the product, tearing apart the two pieces of paper so one was a sticker with Harry’s name on it. She carefully stuck it to the yellow folder in front of her, making sure it was fairly centered and even.

“So, I have to ask you about your medical history, just to be sure. Do you have diabetes, any allergies, on any blood thinners?”

Harry shook his head to all of them. “Great. Have you tested positive for HIV or hepatitis?”

Again, Harry shook his head.

“Okay, now I’d like to take pictures of your current tattoo so I can figure out what needs to be touched up and what still looks good. You did sign the papers in the front, right? With Fumiko, the lady at the front desk?”

Harry nodded, watching how Y/N reached for one of several cameras resting on a shelf. She gave a hum of approval before standing and strolling around her desk, stopping right in front of Harry.

“Oh, right,” Harry coughed, pulling up his shorts to showcase his faded tattoo. It looked rough.

Y/N snapped a few pictures, some with flash and some without. Some zoomed in, some zoomed out. After about four more pictures were taken, Y/N set her camera on her desk, still looking intently at Harry’s tattoo.

She reached forward, her fingers a few inches away before she glanced up at him. “Is this okay?”

Harry only nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment. Y/N slipped on her glasses before placing her hand on Harry’s thigh. She moved the skin around a bit, looking at it from different angles. She was careful with Harry’s thigh, making sure she was professional and pulling the skin just enough so she could take her notes.

“Not really my style, but it’s not bad,” she muttered, giving just enough praise to make Harry happy.

Her hands were warmer than he had thought they would be. Her nails were neat, not manicured, but she took care of them. Harry thought he could see the faintest stain of nail polish, but he wasn’t sure.

Y/N stopped, allowing her fingertip to lightly trace around the tattoo. The motion was different than before; it was soft and tender, almost as if she didn’t need to do what she was doing, but she wanted to. She glanced up at Harry, meeting his eyes with her hand still on him. After a few seconds of silence, Y/N nodded and stepped away, back to her chair around her desk. She huffed as she tried to sort a few papers.

Harry swallowed loudly, trying to hide the blush rising on his cheeks.

“You didn’t want anything added to it? No colors, no new shapes, just a touch up?”

“Yes,” Harry confirmed.

“I think I have everything,” she said, picking up a notepad and jotting down a few notes, the cap of her pen in her mouth. “We have your contact information, right?”

“Yes,” Harry repeated, pulling his shorts back down his leg, covering his thigh. Just as he was about to stand, the girl from the front desk entered Y/N’s office. Harry watched as Y/N’s shoulders deflated.

“Y/N! You wouldn’t believe it. Some guy came in and asked for a drop in and when I said-“

“Fumi, I’m consulting right now,” Y/N grated, her eyes already losing a bit of color.

Fumiko shrugged, walking in further. “Your desk is so messy,” she commented, picking up a few papers.

“I’m busy.”

Fumiko laughed, her black hair bouncing with her shoulders. She made a few more remarks, gaining a few laughs from Harry and a couple glares from Y/N.

“So, Harry Styles,” Fumiko read off of the new folder, “why come into Y/N’s shop?”

Harry was a little taken back by the forward question, but he saw Y/N’s grumpy face turn to one of curiosity.

“I need a touch up done,” he simply answered. Y/N’s face didn’t change except for her lips puckering a bit as she looked away.

“You could’ve gone anywhere for a touch up, so why here? Aren’t you a little nervous about being Y/N’s client?”

Harry shrugged, becoming a little uncomfortable under the investigation. “I mean, sure, I was a little hesitant because she, Y/N, is young and a bit new to the game, but she was recommended.”

Fumiko nodded, leaning her body against Y/N’s desk. “That’s what I’ve been saying!” She turned to Y/N. “You need to find people who support you. Be sure to find at least one person who understands and supports you… a spouse!”

Y/N shot up from her chair, her eyebrows now furrowed and her lips in a straight line. “I’ll escort you out,” she snapped, not bothering to reach for a few slips of paper that fell to the ground.

Harry quickly stood, shaking Fumiko’s hand and following Y/N to the front of the shop. He noticed how briskly she walked, her shoulders a bit tight and her legs not taking full strides. She was also at least half a foot shorter than he was, but he had a feeling she could fuck a person up if she wanted to.

“Sorry about Fumi’s unprofessionalism. I’ll call you, probably tomorrow, being as it’s just a touch up, to schedule your appointment. Make sure to have your calendar ready,” Y/N said over her shoulder as she walked. Once she arrived at the front door, she turned to face Harry.

“Yeah, of course. ‘m looking forward to it. And thank you for meeting me today,” Harry smiled and extended his hand towards her.

Y/N begrudgingly removed her own hand from the front pocket of her trousers, firmly shaking Harry’s hand. She glanced outside, surprised to see that the sun had nearly gone down, covering the parking lot in an orange glow.

“I hope you get home safe,” Harry said, pulling his keys out of his pocket.

Y/N’s eyes widened before she smirked. “That’s quite ominous of you to say. Is that a threat?”

Harry stopped with his hand on the door handle. Confusion riddled his face before he gave a small chuckle. She had already started turning away from him, throwing up a peace sign.

“Goodnight, Harry,” she finished, twisting away so she was walking down the hallway to her office.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Harry shouted with a smile, finally feeling like he was reaching her. The last thing he heard was the door to her office shutting.

*********

“Shit,” Harry mumbled to himself, seeing a missed call from Y/N’s shop from over an hour ago. How he had missed it was a mystery, but he was kicking himself. It was already late, so he wondered if calling back would be a good idea. Before he could think too much about it, he tapped on the contact, bringing his phone up to his ear and listening to the ringing.

“Yeah?” Someone answered quickly. Harry could hear tattoo guns in the background.

“Hey, is this Y/N’s shop? I missed a call earlier so-“

“Oh, right, yeah, give me a few seconds,” the person interrupted, placing Harry on hold.

“Hi, this is Y/N,” her voice comes over the phone, expecting an answer. It’s quieter, so Harry assumes she’s in her office.

“Hey, it’s Harry. Sorry I missed your call, I was a bit busy.”

“Ah, Mr. Styles, how are you?”

Harry isn’t sure why his dick twitched in his pants when ‘Mr. Styles’ rolled off of her tongue, but he coughs quickly before answering. “I’ve been good, you?”

“Same old, same old,” she answered as if they haven’t just met for the first time the day before. “So, listen, I’m all booked this week and the next few weeks. I don’t have an opening for quite some time. If that’s a problem, I might be able to move someone back, but it’s unlikely.”

Harry grabs his laptop and flips it open, clicking on the calendar app. “I’m also quite busy. I’m not sure of a time that really works…”

He hears Y/N sigh on the other end. “I am able to keep my shop open for another hour tomorrow night if you can come in late. It would be around ten if you’re on board?”

Harry looked over his calendar, seeing nothing that could run that late. “I feel bad for making you stay open just for me, though.”

“Don’t worry about it. Fumiko gets overtime, and I’ll be here anyway.”

“Well then, if it’s good with you, I’d love to do that.”

“Cool, just want to remind you to eat beforehand, take a painkiller if you need to, but don’t come into my shop drugged up. Sound good?”

Harry nodded before remembering he was on the phone. “Yes, it sounds perfect.”

“Great, come in about fifteen minutes before ten.”

“I can’t wait to see you,” Harry replied giddily before realizing what he said. “Well, I mean-“

“Goodnight, Harry.”

*********

Harry walked into the shop once again, five minutes earlier than Y/N told him. Fumiko was behind the front desk, scrolling on the computer in front of her.

“Hey, Harry! Y/N should be finishing up with a client right now, but she said you can go to her office to wait for her,” Fumiko waved.

“Thank you, Fumiko,” he grinned, walking past her.

“Ah, just call me Fumi,” she shrugged.

Harry nodded before making his way down the short hallway, entering Y/N’s office slowly. She had clearly cleaned, for her desk was rid of most papers. Her certifications were framed on the wall behind her desk, and pictures of friends and family were taped on the wall. He noticed a table had been put up and a record player was on it. Harry slowly walked over to it, trying to read what record was currently sitting in the player.

“I think you should organize your emails, though,” Harry recognized Fumi’s voice.

“I’m busy.”

Harry quickly turned to see Y/N walk through her office doorway, rubbing her hands together. She glanced up, a bit surprised to see Harry in her office.

“You didn’t tell me Mr. Styles was here already,” she remarked, not breaking eye contact with Harry. He hoped she didn’t see him swallow hard.

“Oh, sorry about that. Also I’m leaving,” Fumi said.

Y/N finally turned to the girl next to her, a shocked expression on her face. “What? You always take overtime.”

“I have a date tonight. Maybe you should take note and-“

“Bah, leave me be,” Y/N shook her head, waving goodbye to Fumi before making her way to her desk.

Harry couldn’t help but notice how attractive Y/N was. Well, he noticed right away when he met her, but now, he was hoping he could calm down by the time she got to touching up his tattoo.

She was wearing a grey tank top tucked into olive green trousers that fit her nicely. Her pants were rolled up so her ankles and shoes were on full display. A patterned scrunchie was around her wrist and she had three earrings in her right ear and two in her left.

“Okay, I want to make this part quick because it’s boring, but also important so pay attention,” she started. “Go ahead and take a seat,” she motioned to the chair in front of her desk.

Harry sat, watching her pull her hair up into a ponytail. He quickly cleared the thoughts wreaking havoc in his brain as he sat down.

“It’s just safety procedure and aftercare and all that jazz. Here is a folder for some aftercare tips, and I know this is just a touch up and you’ve probably done this before, but it’s procedure. I even printed out an article on how to stop a tattoo from fading, so… you’re welcome.”

“Fuck off,” Harry chuckled, watching her face crack a smile. A few seconds pass before she shakes her head, completely ridding of the smile that was on her face.

“Alright, listen, no swimming. That means lakes, oceans, pools, rivers, hot tubs, bath tubs, whatever. When you shower, make sure it’s more lukewarm and preferably under ten minutes. Only use unscented lotion, and please do not pick at your tattoo. Do not use hand towels or anything harsh to clean your tattoo. Do not rub it, only pat dry. No sun on your tattoo. If you get a sunburn on your tattoo, it’ll dry out and cause a nasty scab to form which can result in scarring and fading. Got all that?”

Harry nodded his head every few seconds, trying to remember the details of what Y/N said.

“Aye, you didn’t, so I’ve written it all down and more in your folder. Now then, could you please sign this paper here? It’s just so you can’t sue us in case anything goes wrong with your tattoo as I just described how to care for it,” she explained, handing over a contract.

Harry glanced over it briefly before signing. He noticed how small, yet bold, her own signature was on the artist line below his own line. He was just about to hand it back to her before she shook her head.

“Next page,” she pulled a towel from under her desk and dabbed at her forehead, which had a thin layer of sweat forming on it. “There are a few more minor details that you have to sign off on.”

Harry obeyed, flipping the page over and seeing another line for him to fill. Once again, he tried handing it over to Y/N. This time she took it and ripped off the carbon copy for herself, placing his copy in his yellow folder and her own copy in a separate folder.

“Shall we get to it, then?” She sighed and stood. “And sorry for it being so warm in here, the building is so old that we don’t have air conditioning.”

Harry had barely noticed how much sweat he himself had formed. He was sure that the back of his shirt had a mark, but he was hoping it wouldn’t be too noticeable.

“You don’t have air conditioning in a tattoo parlor?” Harry questions, meeting Y/N’s glare.

“I plan on fixing that within the year, not that it matters to you, Mr. Styles."

Harry couldn’t help but snicker at her comment as Y/N lead them down the hallway and into another larger room where the actual work happened. Chairs and trays were a bit scattered, but it was clean and more organized than Y/N’s office for sure.

“Feel free to sit in this chair here,” Y/N patted a chair in front of her, walking away, presumably to gather the ink and other supplies.

Harry just now noticed the faint music drifting throughout the parlor, melancholy and echoing, but still adding character to his surroundings. Just as the song changes, Harry was startled as Y/N walked in, rolling a tray that was hip height next to her. Tiny capsules of ink roll around and he could see a few pairs of latex gloves.

By the time she reached Harry, she was dabbing her towel against her forehead again. “What the fuck is up with this humidity tonight? It’s never like this.”

Harry simply shrugged, not sure how to respond.

“I guess we can get started. Do you need anything, a pillow or something to distract yourself with?” Y/N asked, taking a seat in her chair to his left. Harry shook his head.

Just as Y/N started organizing her tray, she glanced at Harry’s thigh and stopped suddenly. “Your shorts are covering part of your tattoo.”

“Oh, sorry. Should I just take them off…?” Harry suggested, his neck already warm from the heat.

Y/N thought for a second before shrugging. “Whatever you’re comfortable with. I personally suggest you do, otherwise you’re going to have to hold them up the entire time I’m tattooing, and I’m not sure how pleasant that’ll be for you.”

“O-okay,” Harry responded, removing himself from his chair and unbuttoning his jean shorts.

“Why you would wear jean shorts to get a tattoo on your thigh is beyond me,” Y/N shrugs, turning away. Harry would’ve been offended had he not seen the smirk on her face.

Y/N gave him the courtesy of looking away, pretending she was arranging her tray, but all she was doing was putting a few ink containers in order. After she saw Harry sit down again, she swiped at her forehead one last time and made sure her glasses were on how she wanted them. Y/N snapped on a pair of latex gloves, still not looking at Harry until he coughed lightly.

“If you need to take a breather, say something. If you need to grab my shoulder or arm, say something beforehand. Do you remember the pain level you had on this one?”

“I remember it being a bit rough, but I should be good now,” Harry boasted. “Is it alright to talk to you as you do this? I know some artists aren’t fond of that but…”

Y/N raised her eyebrows, shrugging. “If you want to.”

After shaving the small part of his leg, she grabbed a tattoo gun, giving Harry one more nod before leaning over and placing one gloved hand flat against his thigh. He instantly stiffened. Y/N looks up.

“You have to relax,” Y/N said softly.

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry responds, embarrassed with himself. Trying to take some of the attention away from him, he turns to look at her. “Why don’t you have a lot of tattoos?”

Y/N starts up her gun, placing the needle against his thigh. “I prefer to give them. It’s fun tattooing people, not when I’m in the chair.”

“What does your tattoo say?” Harry asks, slowly motioning towards the spot above her elbow. Now that she was in a tank top, it was easier to see.

“It’s the outline of the earth and says ‘I miss the earth so much’,” Y/N responds, leaning back and stretching out her arm for Harry to see. “Elton John,” she shrugs.

“So I take it you like Elton John?”

Y/N doesn’t respond at first, wiping away some blood that rose to the surface. “Nope, never heard of him before I got it.” She looked up to Harry’s incredulous face and gave a full smile. “I’m kidding. My parents played his stuff all the time. I grew up listening to classics and oldies, but Elton John was always a staple in our house.”

“You’re going to make me lose my mind,” Harry breathed, giving a small laugh.

There was a short silence as Y/N looked up at him. Her face was so close to his thigh, merely a few inches away. Both of her hands were resting on it, remaining still. Her big, bright eyes gazed up at him, her lashes full. Harry noticed how her lips were parted, and he couldn’t help his mind as it let him know that this would be the exact way she would look if she were on her knees in front of him, her mouth wrapped around him, bobbing her head back and forth.

Y/N instantly went back to work, choosing to position herself so the back of her shoulder faced him instead. He brought his hand up to his face, shielding his eyes in embarrassment. He gulped, feeling his heart beat in his chest. Had it not been for the tattoo gun, he was sure that she would’ve heard it.

It didn’t help that he could feel her tits against his outer thigh. She was fully pressed against him, making sure to get as close to her work as possible. Harry could practically feel her breathing.

“What does this tattoo mean to you?” She asked, surprising Harry.

“Um,” he paused, “tigers are known for being regal, powerful, and strong, you know? I’d like to think I am, too. People have to be careful around them because tigers can be unpredictable. I don’t like being so… I don’t want people to have expectations of me, and even if they do, I want them to be wrong. I guess I just want to be different, I don’t know. And they just look sick as fuck,” he finished.

Y/N smiled at his last sentence, her eyelids settling halfway over her eyes. “They do look sick as fuck.”

There’s another few minutes where nothing is said between them, and Harry is content with that. The pain really wasn’t bad. He could’ve fallen asleep with enough time, but Y/N’s hands were a bit distracting for him to do that. Eventually, he decided on watching Y/N work.

She really knew what she was doing. Harry was mesmerized at how close Y/N’s own strokes matched those of the original artist. She was really trying to make it seem like Harry wasn’t getting a touch up, as if he’s had this tattoo for years without worry of it fading.

“I’m going to move a bit further up your thigh,” she mutters, scooting herself a tiny bit closer to Harry. Her hands followed, going a bit further up.

Harry raised his right leg, bending it at the knee and mouthing ‘fuck’ as he rubs the bottom half of his face with his hand. When the needle was placed back onto his skin, he scrunched up his nose in pain.

“Thought you said you could handle the pain?” Y/N smirked over her shoulder, pausing to gauge how well Harry was doing.

Harry stares at her, a bit in disbelief. “I don’t remember it being this bad, honestly.”

Y/N laughs, shaking her head. “Relax, I’m using a different needle than what the original artist used, I assume. This one,” she holds up the still running gun, “is better for shading, which essentially is what this entire tattoo is.”

Harry felt one side of his mouth raise. “Sly minx.”

Y/N winked and gave another laugh before turning away. Harry cursed himself. He was sure Y/N could see the tenting happening in his boxers, especially since he could feel the tightness.

“Could I grab your shoulder?” He asked before realizing the words were leaving his mouth.

Y/N stopped, straightening her back which resulted in a few pops. She turned off her gun and placed it on the tray next to her. “I’ll move around to the other side of you to finish this off so you’re grabbing my left shoulder. If you move suddenly, you’ll pull on my left shoulder instead of my right, so there’s a less likely chance you’ll mess up your tattoo. But first, let’s take a break.”

Harry sat forward, instantly going to look at how fresh his tattoo was looking. “Wow, this looks great so far. I can really tell a difference.”

Y/N only hums while removing her gloves, twisting her back so it gave a few more pops. She leans forward a bit so she can inspect it, probably criticizing her own work on it. “Like I said before, not my style, but it’s not horrible.”

“Says the person with one tattoo,” Harry said, bringing his hand out and flicking her arm.

“Did you just flick me?”

“I… maybe?”

Y/N widened her eyes. “I am never opening my shop past hours again. Hooligans like you think, once ten passes, there are no rules. Besides, who said I only had one tattoo?”

Harry shrugged. “I haven’t seen anything else on you. And, I hate to be frank, but you are wearing a revealing tank top and I still don’t see anything.”

“Revealing? You’re in your underwear,” Y/N retorts, giving a flick to his knee. Harry beamed, his dimples on full display. “Wait, have you been looking at my boobs?”

Harry lost his grin then, his ears and neck darkening. “No! I haven’t, I… I just happened to notice that it’s a tank top and-“

Y/N laughed harder than any other time Harry has seen her laugh. She shook her head a few times. “I don’t give a shit.”

Harry’s heart was still racing as he leaned back, swallowing loudly. “You are seriously going to be the death of me.”

Y/N smiled and stood, pulling her tray and stool behind her and around Harry. Before too long, she was sitting on Harry’s right side and pulling on another pair of gloves.

“Um, I’m going to have to lean over you to reach the tattoo,” Y/N informed Harry, giving him a look to ask if that was alright.

“Okay,” was all he responded with. Y/N stood and leaned herself over Harry’s right thigh so she could reach his left one.

“Go ahead and grab my shoulder, or arm, or whatever,” she said, making sure she was comfortable.

Harry reached forward, deciding to wrap his fingers around her bicep. It was warm and soft, tender yet firm. She clearly had a bit of muscle there, but it wouldn’t be too obvious unless someone were like Harry, hand wrapped around her.

Y/N also noticed how soft Harry’s hands were. Despite being in pain and being offered to basically use her arm as a distraction, he didn’t squeeze too hard. It was as if the simple act of touching another person in such a way was good enough for him.

She gave no warning as she started up her tattoo gun again, picking up where she left off. That was when Harry started squeezing her arm a bit harder, even giving a grunt which Y/N had to quickly ignore or she would’ve gone outside Harry’s original tattoo tracing.

After a few moments of silence, Y/N started blowing upwards, trying to rid of her baby hairs that made themselves present and tickled her forehead. With the humidity and her position of leaning over Harry, her hair wasn’t fully cooperating with her. So, she resorted to stopping for a few seconds to push back some stray hairs only to have to repeat the action every couple of minutes.

“Here,” Harry finally interjected, removing his hand from around her and stretching out his own arm, brushing away some of the hairs behind her ear.

She hesitated to continue, instead looking at Harry in astonishment. “Um, thanks,” she finally said, looking back to her work.

It didn’t feel like too long before Y/N was finally straightening her back, groaning and examining what she had just finished.

“I think… that’s it. We’re done. Oh, wait!” She exclaimed, quickly leaning down again. Without thinking, she repositioned herself, accidentally placing her arm a little higher than she meant.

“Y/N!” Harry shot up, squeezing her arm with more strength than he had planned. Even his breathing was a bit irregular.

Y/N was shocked, unmoving. She’s never had a client yell her name before, especially when the pain level wasn’t as low as this. However, she’s also never placed her arm on her client’s semi-hard dick before either.

“Shit, I am so sorry. I, um, are you okay? Did I hurt you? God, I’m sorry, I should’ve paid more attention,” she scrambled for words, shutting off the tattoo gun and quickly removing her gloves.

Harry sat back, his body hitting the chair behind him with a loud thump. He looked up to the ceiling, not daring to look at the woman in front of him. “For the love of Christ, please, let’s just move past this.”

Y/N was still staring at him, a bit wary of her surroundings. She wasn’t trained on how to talk to a client after she touched their dick, so she was unsure of how to continue.

“Can I just… finish this little bit? It should take less than three minutes,” she mumbled, grabbing for another pair of gloves hesitantly.

Harry only nodded, still admiring the lights on the ceiling. Y/N leaned over him again, much farther down this time, and only her hands were touching his left thigh instead of her entire forearm resting against his right thigh.

“We’re done,” she quietly said, looking at Harry who finally allowed his eyes to fall on hers.

“Great,” he rasped. Y/N watched him for a few seconds before reaching to the ground to pick up Harry’s discarded shorts. She handed them to him before quickly busying herself, somewhat facing away from him.

“I’ll wrap it up in a second,” she said, throwing a few items away. “Take a look at it and make sure you like it.”

Harry did as he was told, bringing his face closer to his thigh. “It seriously does look amazing. You did a great job on it. Thanks for this.”

Y/N shrugged, “I’ll take your thanks in the form of money.”

She wrapped Harry’s fresh tattoo, explaining to him the steps to take during the aftercare. Harry nodded along, noticing how slow and gentle she was with her actions. Once she was finished wrapping him up, she walked to the front of the room, waiting for him.

“I’ll just meet you at the front desk,” she suggested, walking out of the room, leaving Harry by himself.

Once he saw she was gone, Harry sighed to himself, giving his lower half a glare before yanking on his shorts. His thigh stung a bit, which was expected. He hobbled to the front desk, already pulling out his wallet.

“Here,” Harry haphazardly grabbed a few bills and handed them to Y/N. She quickly did the math then furrowed her brows.

“There’s too much here.”

“What about tip?”

“Even with tip, this is quite a lot.”

“Just keep it.”

“Oh… okay,” she responded, surprised. She slipped her glasses off and tucked them into her hair on her head.”Would it be alright if you came in maybe a week from now just so I can check up on it?”

“I thought you were all booked up the next few weeks?”

“I figured you could come in after hours again… unless that’s a problem for you.”

Harry watched her eyes closely. She seemed back to her normal self: bored, weary, indifferent. “Yeah, that definitely works for me.”

After scheduling another smaller appointment, Y/N turned to Harry, “Well, Mr. Styles, just remember to keep those showers to less than ten minutes if you can.”

Harry wasn’t sure if he hated or loved the smirk on her face. She leaned forward, her arms crossed in front of her on the desk, leaving her cleavage out on full display. Harry glanced down, fully aware that Y/N was watching him, but he didn’t care. Based on Y/N’s actions, it’s like she wanted him to look, like she was presenting herself before him. She didn’t move as he gazed at her chest.

“I’ll try,” he quipped back, finally looking up at her and wetting his lips with his tongue. “Get home safe.”

Y/N chuckled as Harry turned away. “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

*********

A week had gone by, which meant it was time for Harry to enter Y/N’s shop again. He had been taking care of his tattoo just as she had instructed, careful to be precise and pointed with his aftercare. His tattoo had gone through some of the healing process nicely thanks to him obeying orders.

“Hi, Harry. Y/N said to wait in her office,” Fumi raised to point her thumb behind her towards Y/N’s office.

“You’re leaving?” Harry asked, noticing Fumi carrying her purse and the computer at the front desk turned off.

“Yup! Y/N said you’re just here for a check up so I can head home. Have fun!” Fumi waved.

Harry made his way to Y/N’s office, settling himself into his normal spot and facing Y/N’s desk. It seemed that being clean was not her strong point, as papers were scattered across the surface. A small recycling bin was full of crumpled and folded papers.

He knocked his knuckles against the arm rests of the chair, impatiently waiting for Y/N.

Since the last time he had seen Y/N, she’s all he had thought about. When his friend who recommended Y/N asked how his session went, Harry could only give positive feedback. Of course, he left out some details, specifically Y/N accidentally touching his dick and him going home and taking care of himself, watching his fresh tiger tattoo move with each stroke of his hand.

Harry immediately tried thinking of something else, but it was of no use. The feeling of Y/N feeling him up came back, and he was squirming in his chair. He was overwhelmed by her, but it still didn’t feel like enough.

Y/N sure wasn’t helping when she walked into her office, addressing him as Mr. Styles once again.

“How are you doing?” She asked once she shut her office door behind her and settled into the chair behind her desk.

“I’m good, how are you?”

“Same old, same old. How has your tattoo been treating you?” She leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms up and folding them behind her head.

Once again, Harry couldn’t help but notice how captivating Y/N was with her striking features. She wore an old, faded Britney Spears shirt and loose jeans that stopped well above her ankles. Another scrunchie adorned her left wrist.

“Doing what a tattoo should do, I guess. Do you think there’ll be less scabbing being as it was just a touch up?” He questioned, reaching up to scratch his nose twice.

“Should be less scabbing, but I’m not fully sure. It really depends on your body. Plus, touching up years after you originally got it comes into play. Why don’t I take a look at it?” She suggested as she stood up.

Harry nods, standing and unbuttoning his jean shorts for her a second time. Y/N raised her eyebrows with a skeptical glance.

“Jean shorts again? I think you’re doing it on purpose at this point.”

Harry smirked, choosing to say nothing and trying to hide his smug grin with no success. The truth was that he did do it on purpose, wanting to strip down for her if he could.

As he pulled down his shorts, hearing them give a small thump when they hit the ground, he stoically stood before Y/N, hands on his waist.

“I think someone is feeling cocky,” Y/N mutters, walking around the desk in front of Harry.

He grinned, giving a small shrug, “Just be happy that I followed your aftercare directions.”

“I’m not proud of you for doing something you should be doing,” she snapped back, giving Harry a look before kneeling in front of him but not breaking eye contact. Just the sight of her on her knees before him wiped the smirk off of his face. His hands fell from his waist to his sides.

Harry gave a shaky breath as Y/N looked away and at his thigh, lightly moving the skin around it with her hand. She said nothing as she examined it, carefully looking at it from different angles.

“It looks really good, actually. It’s healed pretty fast,” she praised as she stood.

Harry didn’t step back, and neither did she. He licked his lips before smiling.

“Can I kiss you?” He finally asked.

Y/N gave a short laugh. “I’ll have to charge you for that.”

“Anything I do is money for you, hm?”

“Gotta make a living somehow.”

Harry shook his head, breathing out a laugh. “You didn’t answer the question.”

Y/N brought her hands to her hips, giving a huff. “Yes, you can.”

Harry grinned from ear to ear, finally leaning forward so his lips met hers. He was soft and gentle, testing out the waters to see how comfortable she was. It wasn’t a few seconds later before his hand was on her cheek, trying to bring her as close as possible. Her hand was fisted in his shirt as her chest and stomach were flush against his.

The intensity of the kiss immediately skyrocketed as Harry pushed her back a few feet, stepping out of his shorts as he did so. The back of Y/N’s thighs hit her desk so she took it upon herself to prop herself up on it, her legs widening once she was situated so Harry could move between them.

“Wait, wait,” she rushed, pushing Harry away slightly so she could stand again. Harry watched as she gathered the papers she was just sitting on and placing them to the side.

“We had to stop for that?” Harry snickered, going back to his spot between Y/N’s legs when she hopped onto her desk again.

“People pay good money for custom sketches,” she quipped, out of breath.

“As they should,” Harry answered, cupping Y/N’s cheek. “They’re really fucking good.”

Y/N felt her heart beat faster as Harry complimented her art. She grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him towards her so she was kissing him again. Their lips moved in sync with each other, not missing a beat.

Harry grabbed the hem of her shirt, pulling it up so it was off of her body. Even though they were separated for a few seconds, they rushed back to each other, Harry’s hand on the back of her neck and Y/N’s hand reaching forward, ghosting over the waistband of his boxers.

Feeling bold, she palmed him over his underwear, feeling how hard he was already. He quietly moaned, breaking away from Y/N to look down to where she was touching him. Just seeing and feeling how turned on Harry was made Y/N aware of her own wetness between her thighs.

“I want these off of you,” Harry said, sticking his index finger into the waistband of her jeans.

Y/N leaned back slowly, taking her time as she laid her back on her desk. Her face remained calm as she deadpanned, “Then take them off.”

Harry breathed heavily as he unbuttoned her jeans. She lifted her hips to help him remove them. All that she was left in was her bra and underwear.

“Fuck,” Harry muttered to himself as he allowed his hands to roam her thighs. His eyes tried taking all of her in at once, wanting to memorize every curve, dimple, hair, and mark on her.

Y/N lifted her legs so they were bent at the knees above her desk. She widened them, causing Harry to look down at where he wanted to be most.

“Christ,” he breathed, lavishing in the view. A dark, wet spot on her underwear nearly made Harry combust right there.

“Is this for me?” He asked, rubbing his right hand on the inside of her thigh, slowly moving it down so it hovered over her heat.

“All for you,” she bit her bottom lip, watching as Harry’s mouth practically watered.

She closed her eyes and let her head fall back when she felt Harry start to rub her clit through her underwear. He took his time, wanting to see what she was comfortable with, but also wanting to tease her, wanting to see her squirm underneath him. He circled her clit, looking up as she released a heavy breath.

Harry needed more. He couldn’t keep this up for long. His hand left her as he removed his shirt then reached on either side of her hips, grasping her underwear and pulling the clothing off. Y/N gasped at the action, sitting up on her elbows as she looked at him.

“Condom?” She asked.

Harry nodded, turning away and bending to grab his shorts. He quickly found a condom in his wallet, pulling it out. By the time he turned back to Y/N, she had removed her bra and was massaging her breasts.

Harry was in awe of her. Everything she did seemed to radiate casual power, like she didn’t even have to try.

He tried opening the small package but his hands were shaking from nerves and excitement. Seeing Y/N open before him was nearly too much for him to handle.

“Here,” she said softly, sitting up and holding her hand out. Harry gently placed the condom in her hand as he pulled down his boxers.

Y/N ripped the package open, casually throwing the wrapping to the side. “You ready?” She asked, looking up to Harry.

He simply nodded, watching as she skillfully pulled the condom on him. Feeling her hand wrap around him made his knees weak and his mind blank for a few seconds.

She laughed, watching his eyes flutter open. “You alright?”

He grinned back at her, slightly embarrassed. “Yeah, yeah,” he responded, leaning forward and sloppily kissing her.

Y/N grabbed the back of his neck, making sure he followed her as she laid back down. She rested her legs on either side of his hips, feeling his hard length against the inside of her thigh. He broke the kiss and trailed his lips down her neck and chest, finally reaching his desired spot. As he wrapped his mouth around a pebbled nipple, he closed his eyes, relishing in the way she moaned and wriggled beneath him.

He moved to the other nipple, proceeding to give the same treatment. Y/N swiped the hair off of his forehead and out of his eyes, noticing his gaze already on her. She moaned loudly as he popped off of her, a line of saliva connected from his lips to her nipple.

Harry sat up, swiping his cock through her folds and tapping it against her clit a few times, making her sigh in pleasure. Just as he lined himself at her entrance, he stopped himself, looking at Y/N’s face.

“Do you want this?”

“Yes,” she responded quickly.

“Tell me.”

Harry heard her head thump against the desk lightly. “Fuck, I want it. I want you, I want you inside me right now.”

This was all Harry needed to hear.

“But go slow! You’re… a little on the bigger side,” Y/N quickly added.

Harry smugly grinned, promising that he would go slow. As he slid himself in, both of them moaned. Y/N reached her hand up and above her head, her fingers grasping the edge of her desk. Harry gave a few shaky breaths as he slowly thrusted himself in and out.

“Taking me so well,” Harry whispered as if he were talking to himself. “So tight wrapped around me.”

As he started thrusting faster and harder, Y/N used her free hand to hold her breasts down. She felt so full of him that it was overwhelming in a good way. Each thrust seemed to be harder than the last one, and Y/N definitely wasn’t complaining. She savored how good he felt sliding in and out, seeming to take his time but also in a hurry to make her feel good. Both of them were so focused on what they were doing that their orgasms came faster than anticipated.

“Shit, Harry, I’m… I’m gonna-“ she cut herself off with a moan.

“You gonna come on me? I wanna feel you come on me,” Harry grunted, tipping Y/N over the edge.

She whimpered loudly, a string of curse words leaving her mouth with Harry’s name mixed in a few times. Harry wasn’t far behind, calling out Y/N’s name and feeling himself still inside her, taking note how she pulsed around him.

It took a few seconds for the fog to leave both their brains, for them to notice how crooked Y/N’s desk was. They giggled at themselves, glancing at a few papers on the floor. Harry slowly pulled himself out of Y/N, relishing in the sound she let out.

“Um, I have a private bathroom, just go behind my desk and through that door back there,” Y/N commented, sitting up and covering herself as best as she could.

Harry nodded, picking up his clothing and heading to the bathroom. He cleaned himself off, getting dressed, ready to leave the bathroom. He looked in the mirror quickly, fixing his hair and checking his face for anything.

When he exited the bathroom, Y/N and her clothing were gone. Her desk was still crooked, the papers still on the floor. He carefully picked them up, smiling at a few of the custom drawings. Just as he was about to push the desk back into its original place, Y/N walked through the door, fully dressed and rubbing her hands together and smelling like lemongrass soap. She had also slipped on her glasses while Harry was in the bathroom.

He smiled at her, admiring the post-sex glow that radiated off of her. She didn’t notice his look, instead walking to the desk and chuckling to herself.

“A bit messy, huh?” She finally mentioned, looking up at Harry.

“Yeah, might want to clean this up by the morning,” he joked, earning a look from Y/N with her sticking out her tongue.

Comfortable silence settled over them as they quickly cleaned, throwing papers onto the desk and fixing the position of the desk. Y/N thanked him, looking around to make sure nothing else was destroyed in their lustful path.

“Well, I’m going to close the shop. You sure your tattoo is feeling good?” Y/N asked once again, grabbing her purse.

“I’d like to see you again… if that’s alright with you,” Harry softly said, reaching out and brushing his fingers against her arm. “Not just for a fuck, either. Don’t get me wrong, if it ends up being that, I’d be more than happy; but, maybe I can take you out for dinner or something.”

Y/N stared at him for a few seconds before Harry could see the blush on her cheeks. “Yeah, yeah. I’d really like that.”

Harry let out a breath of relief. “Great! Um, I have your shop’s number, but I think this would be easier if I got yours as well.”

Y/N huffed, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Won’t even go through the extra work for me.”

Harry chuckled, watching as she leaned over her desk to grab a notepad, scribbling down a few digits and ripping it off from the pad and handing it to him.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“I’ll take your thanks in the form of a dinner.”

Harry threw his head back, letting out a brisk laugh and crinkling his eyes. “Sounds like a deal.”

They both walked to the front of the shop, Y/N stopping every so often to make sure lights were off or trays were cleaned off. She seemed content and ushered Harry outside, shutting off the remaining lights and locking the door behind her.

Harry couldn’t keep his eyes off of Y/N. She had him completely captivated and captured despite him only knowing her for a couple weeks. She caught his eyes and gave him a puzzled look.

“What are you looking at?”

Harry coughed and shook his head, trying to hide his growing smile. “Nothing. I just really want to kiss you again.”

Y/N’s face softened. She licked her lips and shrugged. “Then do it.”

Harry didn’t need to be told twice as he leaned closer to her, brushing his lips against hers. It was a feathery kiss, tender and gentle. He wanted to kiss her lips forever. Harry wanted to remember her taste for as long as possible. When he pulled away, Y/N kept her eyes closed for a few seconds, humming.

As she opened her eyes, Harry smiled. “I already can’t wait to see you again.”

Y/N laughed, patting Harry’s arm and turning away. “Goodnight, Harry.”

#kris writing #yellow days #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #smut #angst #fluff #harry styles one shot #one direction imagine #one direction preference #writing #harry styles imagine #i'm really excited to share this so please enjoy it!!#please leave feedback

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vannahfanfics · 4 years

Text

3 a.m. Musings and Cherry Lip Gloss

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Kingdom Hearts

Characters: Hayner, Olette

With a small groan, Hayner cracked an eye open to peer sleepily at the alarm clock on his nightstand. The bright green numbers depicting 2:28 a.m., the only light source in the inescapable gloom of night, burned into his golden irises. With a louder, more aggravated groan, he rolled onto his back to shove his pillow over his head as if that would make him get to sleep faster. Instead, the neon letters imprinted into his corneas blazed in the dark of his closed eyes. After a few minutes of unsuccessfully trying to lull himself to sleep, he jerked up into a sitting position, shoved the pillow off himself, and just stared out into the dark.

Hayner didn’t usually struggle with sleep. Hell, normally, he passed out right as his head hit the pillow. It was an infuriating change of pace. It wasn’t like he had anything pressing to do in the morning, but the boy just liked his sleep. It was one of life’s many simple pleasures… one that was apparently going to be denied him tonight. He supposed that at least he could take solace in the fact that it wasn’t just some random bout of insomnia; there was at least a reason his mind was whirling one hundred miles an hour and just refused to shut off.

Sora was missing.

The three of them hadn’t been informed of the details. Roxas had just mentioned it in passing because he was depressed about it. There were things about Sora (and the others, too) that Hayner would probably never know- world-jumping and monster-fighting and data-worlds. He was content with that, but what he wasn’t content with was feeling so damn powerless in it all.

Hayner didn’t have a fancy Keyblade that he could sling around and save the day. All he could do was wish, and wish, and wish. Hayner was pretty damn tired of wishing while everyone else charged in to do the work, though. He sighed deeply as he ran both his hands through his tousled blonde hair. Sure, he resented it, but it wasn’t like there was anything he could do about it. Hayner couldn’t wish some fancy weapon into existence, unfortunately.

There’s nothing for it, Hayner thought as he rolled onto his belly to grab his cell phone off the nightstand. He plucked it off the charger and tapped the screen, recoiling with a light screech as it blazed to life and virtually disintegrated his eyeballs. Stuffing his face into the mattress to recover, Hayner swiped his thumb across the top of the screen to lower the brightness. After a minute, the scorching pain receded, and he wearily lifted his head to blink at the now-darkened phone screen. He pulled up his messaging app and tapped on his archived conversation with Olette.

Hey, are you awake? The little bubble made a swoosh sound as it appeared on the screen. There probably was a snowball’s chance in hell that Olette would be awake. He would probably have more luck texting Pence, who was an insufferable night owl who somehow could operate on four hours of sleep and be that same cheerful ball of positivity instead of an irritated zombie. That’s how Hayner got after less than eight hours of sleep. Still, Hayner wasn’t sure he could use Pence’s radiant optimism right now. He was feeling out of sorts, and the one who always comforted him when he was that way was Olette.

Hayner stared at the screen for a minute, waiting to see if the girl was going to respond. He was actually going to break down and just text Pence anyway until another swoosh alert signaled the arrival of another, differently-colored text bubble.

I am. What are you doing up so late?

Can’t sleep. What are YOU doing up so late? Hayner countered. A faint smile ghosted over his lips as he drew up his legs over his back and laid his cheek against the soft mattress. Man, he was glad that she was awake. Something about that made him feel calmer already. Although, Hayner always got like that when it was just him and Olette- because he kind of had a pretty big crush on her…

Heehee! I can’t sleep either! A soft sigh left his mouth. He could imagine that little giggle of hers, accompanied by the sweet smile hidden behind her hand that she raised to her mouth when she laughed. God, he was hopeless when it came to her. Want to meet at the usual spot? He sat up on his arm, intrigued. That was certainly a proposition he hadn’t been expecting at the wee hours of the morning. Still, it was a heck of a lot better than lounging in bed wishing he could fall asleep.

Sure. I’m on my way.

Within minutes, Hayner had changed out of his pajamas in favor of a pair of jeans, a slim-fit, long-sleeve white shirt, and a black jacket. Now that it was the tail end of summer, the nights were beginning to grow cooler, necessitating such precautions. Indeed, as he stepped out of his house onto the bricked streets of Twilight Town, a cold wind blew through the empty corridors and roadways with a quiet, shrill whistle, making Hayner shiver slightly and stuff his hands down into his pockets. Absently, he wondered if Olette had dressed warm enough. He would offer her his jacket if he thought she hadn’t. Setting a brisk pace, he began walking up the sloped incline that led to their secret meeting place.

There wasn’t a soul out beside him. Hayner found the atmosphere peaceful; the town was always a-hustle and a-bustle with people walking towards the shopping district or conversing while they waited for the trams or just wandering about looking for something to do. Even far from the tracks, one could always hear the tram cars rattling as they continuously rounded their circuit of the city. Even the forest before the old mansion wasn’t free of noise; the trees always shook with the wind, and the air always abounded with chattering birdsong.

Hayner, busybody supreme, had always found the noise somewhat comforting and energizing. However, as he strolled under the brilliant canvas of the starry night sky in silence, he found that pleasant and stimulating in its own way, too.

God, he was going all philosophical. Is this what Pence did every night when he stayed up until the crack of dawn? Scowling, he rubbed at his eyes, feeling the bags that were already forming underneath them. He was probably going to regret this little excursion in the morning.

In no time at all, his feet had carried him to their secret base nestled behind an unassuming chain-link fence.

“Olette?” he called as he pulled back the curtain, not wishing to startle the girl if she was there. It was exceptionally likely, considering she lived closer to the base than he did. Sure enough, she perched on one of the overturned wooden boxes that served as their humble chairs. God, they needed to stop spending so much money on ice cream and pretzels and by some real furniture, especially considering that Lea, Isa, Roxas, and Xion were cramming themselves in there now, too.

Olette cocked her head to the side while giving a little wave and that sweet, sweet smile of hers. It almost made Hayner melt on the spot. It seemed being awake so late was making him all sentimental, too. He was all out of sorts for all sorts of reasons. What a concept. “Hey, Olette,” he smiled back at her as he entered the small nook.

“What’s on your mind, Hayner?” Yikes, right to the point. Scratching his head with an embarrassed smile, he hovered in the doorway. She waited patiently for him to answer, hands clasped in her lap and green eyes sparkling with pure goodness. God, he loved her, really. Wait. That isn’t the topic of conversation, he reminded himself.

“I’ve just been thinking,” Hayner frowned as he struggled to put his complicated feelings into words, “how upset I would be if any of you guys just up and disappeared on me.” Wow, that actually came out articulated and cohesive. Not bad for being half-asleep.

He walked over to sit on the small box across from her, resting a cheek in his hand while the other arm slung across his opposite knee. “I know there’s nothing we can do about Sora, but I can’t help but think about it, y’know? I can’t imagine what the others are goin’ through. I’d be devastated if you vanished, Olette.”

The words hung in the air for a moment before he realized exactly what he had said. He immediately blushed fiercely, almost grasping upwards to pluck them down and shove them back into his mouth. That wasn’t how things worked, though. He shrunk into himself in mortification as Olette stared at him with owlish eyes.

Hayner decided then and there not to have any more 3 a.m. conversations with Olette.

The tense silence that settled between them also made him elect that silence was no longer comforting. “Um… Say something, please,” he asked awkwardly after it became too much for him to bear.

“O-oh!” she cried while flushing pink and waved her hands about in an apologetic manner. “I’m sorry, I just zoned out?” She laughed with a nervous smile. Hayner frowned lightly as he resumed his horrible slouching posture. It was definitely a weak excuse, but like hell he was gonna question it. “Um, yeah… I totally get what you mean. To be honest, I’ve been thinking about it too… It’s also why I couldn’t sleep. I’m almost afraid that I would wake up, and…” she trailed off to play with her fingers, gaze falling to her lap, “you not being here anymore…” she finished shyly, glancing up through her pretty lashes at him.

If Olette was really hinting that she liked him as he liked her, well, she was probably questioning it, because Hayner looked pretty stupid with the way his mouth was hanging open as he gawked incredulously at her. Hastily, he shut his mouth and leaned back, unsure quite what expression he was trying to make on his face at the moment. Somehow he managed to form words, though.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that, Olette… I’ll always… be here…” The could’ve come out smooth as hell, but he made it sound so awkward and shy. Well, it really was a wonder he said it at all because he sure wouldn’t have if it were a typical time of day.

For the duration of him saying it, his eyes had been searching the meeting spot for something to land on, only to drift back to Olette. He instantly felt his heart clench in his chest; the way she was looking at him right now, so relieved and happy with just a hint of a demure smile on her pretty pink lips…

Wait, did she have on lip gloss? Who puts on lip gloss at 3 a.m.?

His hands flew to the edges of the box underneath him when she suddenly stood up and walked across the room to stand in front of him. He encased that box in a white-knuckled grasp as he looked up at her uncertainly.

“Promise?" she asked him softly, endearingly, hopefully. With the way the sleep was fogging his brain, he began to wonder if this was all a dream, that he really was asleep after all. Well, if it was a dream, why stop, and if it wasn’t and he really was awake, all the better.

“Promise. I’m not going anywhere, Olette.”

Hayner should pull a move. Girls liked moves. The movies all said so.

He pried one of his hands from the box and tried to ignore the bright red imprint of its rough surface against his palm. He reached out to grasp one of her own, gently rolling circles into the top of it with his thumb. From the way she bashfully looked down at their held hands then up at him, he could tell that it was a successful move. Point one for sleep-deprived Hayner.

Olette reached up with her other hand to softly brush her fingertips over his cheeks. The feather-light touch sent electricity skittering across his entire face that lingered after her hand had already fallen away.

“I’m glad.” The way she whispered the words sent an oddly pleasurable shiver up his spine. He got a sudden urge to kiss her.

Was he crazy? Probably. Then again, he was dangerously close to lunacy already from not sleeping.

Was he going to go for it? Absolutely.

“Olette…” Her name crept past his lips without him noticing as he stood up, tilting his head slightly as he looked down at her. He still held her hand while his other rested against her cheek, fingertips just barely threading into her waves of chestnut hair. She styled it every morning, but it consisted of crimped waves of chocolatey locks due to the late hour. Somehow, he liked that even more… It made her look so natural, so raw, so beautiful.

Without another word, his face drifted down over her own to plant a soft, sweet kiss on her lips. Olette angled her face to respond to him, and as a little of her lip gloss smeared across his mouth, he could vaguely discern the sweet taste of cherries. Point one for lip gloss at 3 a.m.

Hayner held the kiss for a minute before pulling back, but only just. As her eyes fluttered open to peer up at him adoringly, he smirked playfully. “I guess it’s just a little unnecessary to say that I like you, Olette.”

She giggled, holding her hand up to her mouth just like she always did, and he swore that he fell even more in love with her only from that.

“Yes, but a girl likes to hear it anyway.” Her green eyes sparkled up at him like sunlight filtering through a thick canopy of leaves. “Feel better?”

“Loads.” Just from talking to her, he felt like a great weight dropped off his shoulders. Suddenly, a large yawn split his face, and he rubbed his eyes at a sudden onset of drowsiness. He felt like he could fall asleep on the spot.

Olette giggled again before asking, “Care to walk a girl home?” He nodded in agreement and Olette grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together before tugging him out of the secret base. As the chill wind greeted them, she pressed her body against his, and they set off together in the deep of night with the moon and stars as their only company. Hayner really wasn’t sure how he got from point A to B, because his memory faded very quickly after their leaving.

The only reason he knew that it wasn’t a dream was the faint lingering taste of cherry lip gloss on his lips in the morning.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#kingdom hearts #kh #haylette #haynette #hayner x olette #olette x hayner #olettexhayner #haynerxolette #romance #fluff #cutesy #oneshot #oneshots #oneshot collection #fanfiction #fanfics #fanfic #kingdom hearts fanfiction #kh fanfiction

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thewritewolf · 5 years

Text

The Search for Halloween Chapter 6: Lost + Ghost

The gang decides to check out an old abandoned house at night.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 (Final)

@unusual-october

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3. My ko-fi.

Art of this chapter by the always-wonderful @noanieactuallydrawingalot

“Hey, guys!” Adrien rushed up to where his friends were huddled together. With the darkness, he hadn’t been sure at first that it was them, but spotting Marinette’s pink winter jacket set his mind at ease. “Are we ready for some spooky times?”

“I gotta say, sunshine, I’m impressed,” Alya said as the four of them started walking.

“Well, it’s not that hard to be brave this time.” Adrien stood a little closer to Marinette when he noticed her slight shivering. “It’s just a big, empty house after all. I’ve got plenty of experience with those.”

“I guess, dude. But this isn’t just any old abandoned building.”

Adrien narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Nino. “That’s not what you said this morning. And I should know, since you called me to scream about how you’d found ‘this cool place to go exploring in’.”

“What Nino means to say is that we’ve done a bunch of research on it since then,” Alya cut in. “We’ve found some scary stuff that we’re sure is gonna freak you guys out.”

“Just for the record: I know that you’re lying,” Marinette said. “But I’m curious about your ghost stories.”

Alya pouted. “Well that takes half the fun out of it.” She shrugged. “Oh well. Let’s start with the story of the screaming girl in the walls…”

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

Entering the house hadn’t been as difficult as Marinette would have hoped. Maybe it was because no one was really expecting someone to want to go exploring in a crumbling wreck, but regardless, it didn’t provide much of a deterrent to the teens sneaking inside. Marinette almost wished that it had been better locked down - maybe then they could’ve gone home early. While that would’ve meant she had snuck out for no reason, it also meant she wouldn’t have to explore a possibly haunted house close to midnight after listening to a bunch of ghost stories.

Somewhere deep in her bones, Marinette suspected that Alya and Nino were going to do their best to scare her and Adrien. They took way too much pleasure in that. Maybe that was the spirit of Halloween possessing them? Those fears seemed well founded at Alya’s next suggestion.

“Okay, gang. I think we should split up.”

Marinette shot her best friend a withering glare that she resolutely ignored.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, M. Look at this place!” Alya spread her hands to encompass the grand staircase leading upstairs and the corridors spreading out in three directions on this floor alone. “It’ll take us ages if we do this as one group and you know it.”

Marinette pinched the bridge of her nose. “So the groups will be-”

“You and sunshine down here, me and cappy upstairs, yes.”

That suspicion returned, although now she was wondering if Alya and Nino weren’t just going to sneak off and make out somewhere. At this point, they felt like equally likely possibilities.

Before Marinette could present her misgivings, Adrien said, “That sounds fine. You two have fun… ‘exploring’.” He waggled his eyebrows, prompting Alya to roll her eyes and Nino to grin.

Once the other two disappeared upstairs, Adrien bowed to Marinette and gestured towards the right hallway.

“Shall we?”

Marinette giggled and flipped her flashlight on. “We shall.”

Her courage nearly evaporated when she thought she heard tiny voices, like those of children, coming from somewhere nearby. It sounded like they were whispering to each other.

“Something wrong?”

She looked toward Adrien and his concerned eyes. Try as she might, she didn’t hear anything now. She shook her head. “...It was nothing, I think. Come on!”

After trudging through the darkness and over creaky floorboards, they came to a stuck door. Between the two of them, they managed to pry it open. A big, decaying table sat in the middle of what appeared to be a kitchen. Marinette picked up the sturdy looking candlestick that sat at the edge of the table.

While she hefted it in her hands, Adrien paused in his exploration of the cupboards to glance over to her. “Grabbing a souvenir? I didn’t realize you were the sticky fingers type, bugaboo.”

An embarrassed blush spread across her cheeks. “Um… about that... remind me to tell you about your phone later, okay?”

He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment.

There was movement to her side and the quiet was broken when the table suddenly collapsed. Her own terrified squeak added to the noise as she dodged out of the way. Not that she needed to - none of the rotted wood got close to her.

Adrien was at her side in a moment, carefully looking at her feet and legs for any signs of injury. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“...Let’s keep moving, okay? I don’t really want to be in this room anymore.” He glared at the ruined table, as if daring it to try and attack her again.

She nodded mutely and they continued their search.

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

Alya let her light rake across the walls of the room, giving only a cursory glance at her surroundings. So far, exploring the house hadn’t been quite the adventure she had been hoping for. It made weird noises and smelled weird too. If they’d come during the day like the scaredy cats had wanted, she would’ve been bored to tears. As it stands, she was intrigued and her heartbeat was a little faster than usual.

Then again, she thought as she squeezed Nino’s hand, maybe that last part wasn’t because of the house at all.

“You really think we’ll find anything worth talking about here?” Nino tugged at his hat as he searched the corners of the room. “Dunno if we’ll even be able to put this in the presentation.”

She shrugged. “We might be able to if we keep it vague. But, honestly, this is more about freaking out Mari and blondie than anything else.”

“You’ve really got it out for them.” Nino chuckled. “You got a mean streak under all that sugar.”

“And don’t forget it, babe.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “But no, I just don’t get the excuse to mess with her a lot. At least, not like this. She’s pretty good at avoiding horror most of the time.”

“Oh man, you should have seen their faces during that sleepover when-”

They were both startled at the sound of a door slamming shut. Specifically, the one that led into the room they were in. After a moment of hesitation, Alya rushed forward to pull at the handle. Despite her fears, the door opened as easy as it had when they came in. Some of the tension left her. Not a lot, but a little.

“That was, uh…” Nino swallowed. “...Spooky.”

“Yeah…” Alya narrowed her eyes at the door. “Must have been-”

“Babe, I swear if you say it was just the wind I’m divorcing you right now.”

Despite how her heart was pounding, she smirked. “A shame we aren’t married. But seriously, these houses have weird air flow. One strong gust from outside and,” she clapped her hands together. “Door slams.”

“If you say so… Back to it, then?”

“Well, duh. It’s getting interesting now.”

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

Nino definitely wasn’t having a good time now. Something about the place put him on edge. Like there was someone (or something) watching from the shadows. An omnipresent scratching sound that Alya had claimed was probably just some trees outside. The only light in the building was the one from the flashlights, which meant he was blind in almost all directions.

Atmospheric horror at its best. Exactly like he enjoyed out of a movie.

But also way too real for him to really appreciate.

“We’ve been in here like, what? Half an hour?” Nino whispered to Alya, one hand latched onto her sweater sleeve. “We can probably call it quits now, right?”

“Come on, babe! Things are just getting interesting now!”

To his dismas, he realized she was leading him towards the scratching sound. He mentioned this out loud.

“Well, it’s our only lead right now. It could just be a tree or an animal or whatever.”

“Yeah, well, if it isn’t? What then?”

“Then we have some real ghost action up in here!” Alya put her ear close to the door they’d reached. “Now, shush. Whatever is making that sound is on the other side.” She put a hand on the door knob and grinned.

When she pushed open the door, her grin immediately vanished, replaced with a mask of horror. It wasn’t an animal or a tree. But they found what the scratching was about.

Carved into the wall in big, scrawled letters were the words, “STUPID GHOST.”

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

Adrien and Marinette had doubled back to the staircase and went down the big, central hall. A lot of little things had started piling up on their minds - faint cackling, weird smells, small things crumbling like the table - and suddenly they didn’t want to stray very far from the entry any more. The only thing still keeping them there was bullheaded stubbornness and not wanting to leave their friends behind.

That brought them to what Adrien assumed was the living room. At least, that’s the sense that he got from the mouldering couches and the dead fireplace. Any other hints about what had been here had long since been eaten up by time.

They both heard a scraping noise, like metal on stone, and froze. It was really getting to them, but Adrien was having just about enough. So he did the one thing he knew would take both of their minds off of it. He put his hands on Marinette’s shoulders.

“Mari?”

“Hm?”

“We should go on a date after this.”

She stopped and looked wide eyed at him. “I- What?”

“You and me, flowers, chocolate, you’ll wear a pretty dress you made. It’ll be great.”

“That…” She swallowed and gave a weak smile. “That sounds amazing. I’d love to.” Marinette hugged herself and shivered. She jumped when Adrien wrapped an arm around her, but shot a grateful look up at him. “Th-thanks, Adrien. I hate the cold.”

At that moment, the fireplace flared to life, startling both of them. Carved into the stone in the back, where they couldn’t see before, was a single sentence:

YOU DIDN’T SAY GOODBYE.

With that, the two of them bolted from the room into the hallway. The house was suddenly alive with sound as Alya and Nino rushed down the stairs at the same time. Everyone began talking excitedly all at once. Adrien risked a glance behind him, towards the abandoned living room. His eyes widened and he pointed a trembling finger at the shadowy figure behind them.

“G-ghost! Demon! Thing!”

Which was more or less accurate - he couldn’t get a good sense of the shape of the creature, but there were tendrils of inky blackness that caused things to rot and crumble when it brushed against them. There was a wall of sound that he belatedly realized was the four of them screaming at once before they were suddenly a flurry of limbs rushing towards the exit. There was a sound of metal hitting wood as Marinette dropped the candlestick in her haste.

The main doors slammed shut behind them.

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

They didn’t stop running until they’d put a couple blocks between them and the house.

Alya managed to speak between gasps of breath, “So that was… something. Very spooky.” The combined glares of the other three proved deafening. “Okay, fine, fine. I’ll take full blame if we get permanently haunted ‘cuz of this. Let’s just go home, alright?”

“You mind if I come over to your place, babe? I, uh… Don’t want to be by myself right now.”

“I’m very glad you asked first. Yes. Let’s watch a rom com or four.”

“Throw in a spy flick and we’ll call it good.”

Trailing a little behind the other two, Adrien weaved his fingers between Marinette’s and whispered, “So does Saturday sound alright to you?”

She blinked up at him. “Huh?”

“For the best date of our lives?”

No response except more blinking.

“Mari, say something. I already promised flowers and chocolates and I can't break that promise now-mmmmph!"

He was suddenly cut off by her pulling him down to her level and pressing her lips to his.

She sighed against him and whispered back, “Saturday sounds wonderful, kitty.”

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

An hour earlier...

“Come on, Sugarcube! It’ll be fun.”

Plagg floated around Tikki in an abandoned closet under the staircase. He’d dragged her off while their chosen had been focused on entering the house.

“I don’t know, Plagg… It seems awfully mean.”

“But, sugarcube, when was the last time we got to celebrate Samhain? It’s been centuries! Opportunities like this don’t come around that often.”

Despite herself Tikki smirked. “Well… I don’t see any jack o'lanterns around. If they didn’t want to be haunted, they should have taken the proper steps against malevolent spirits.”

“That’s the spirit! Why don’t you go after the spectacles gang. Take some revenge on behalf of your little bug.”

Tikki’s eyes narrowed. She hadn’t been very appreciative on how they’d been pushing Marinette into these situations.

“I think I’d like that a lot.” She started to phase through the floors before quickly returning. “Oh! I almost forgot - Happy Samhain, stinky sock.”

Plagg grinned back at her. “And a happy Samhain to you too, Tik.”

#Miraculous Ladybug #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrienette #alya cesaire #Nino Lahiffe #DJ Wifi #Unusual October #ml fanfiction #my writing #The Search for Halloween

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niftynifflerfics · 5 years

Text

Make Me

Could you do Teddy Lupin Smut Pls

(A/N: Sorry if this is bad, this is my first time writing smut and ohhhh boy.)

Warnings: smut, public sex/exhibitionism, language

Word count: 2,557

Concentrating on things that bored you out of your mind was never easy, especially when each passing second made your head throb. You'd been focusing on words on a page for so long that you didn't even notice it when your eyes went out of focus and you'd stare blankly at the page in front of you. It was hard enough to do this alone, yet alone when someone was right next to you.

Teddy had a bad habit of clicking his pen that he'd got from a muggle friend. He'd do it over and over until it was steady like the ticking of a clock. His thumb would press down the button once, twice, three times. Every time it sprung up, he'd push it back down. It was a way for him to hone his focus but a way for you to lose yours. You'd already managed to ignore it for half an hour, surely you could ignore it for a couple of minutes more. You were studying lethifolds for your seventh year defence test that was approaching a lot faster than you'd like it to. You'd made it through half of the chapter and wrote two rolls of parchment and yet it's now that you're stumped. You've read the same sentence over and over and over and yet nothing seemed to register inside of your head. It was as if the words had lost all meaning, no matter how much you forced yourself to concentrate on each word nothing was making sense, the letters started to look jumbled and out of order - you couldn't tell if what you'd just written was spelt right or not because the whole word looked weird. It was that damn clicking. You slammed your hand over Teddy's, who's head snapped up from his book. His furrowed eyebrows softened when he looked at you and a soft tint of pink coloured his cheeks. You pouted, attempting to snatch the pen from his hand but he only gripped it tighter. He smirked. 'What?' 'I can't focus because of that damn clicking.' Teddy let his focus move from his studies and stared off into the distance. You took that as him stopping and turned back to your book. Finding the sentence you were on before was enough of a challenge - but then it started again. You slammed your book down on the library desk, sighing and glaring with all your might at Teddy. 'Teddy!' 'What?!' 'The pen!' 'Right, sorry.' Teddy put the pen down on the desk this time, raising his hands as if to signal he wasn't going to do it again yet a strange twinkle in his eyes and a smirk told you this wouldn't be the end of it. Still, any opportunity to get back to work was a good one. You buried your head back in the book, lifting your quill and scrawling a quote onto the parchment. Teddy looked down at his own book, staring at his parchment over the edge of the page and writing something down while sneaking side glances at you. He waited until you had relaxed and focused again before he pressed the edge of the button down against the wooden table. The noise was even more annoying than when he just clicked it normally. If looks could kill that livid glare would end his life a lot earlier than he expected. ‘Teddy! Stop clicking that damn thing!’ ‘Make me.’ The tone in his voice made a heat rush to your cheeks as if you’d caught a fever. The air of the entire conversation had changed. Teddy knew exactly what he was doing and you weren't upset about it at all - if he'd just give you fifteen minutes to finish this. ‘T-Teddy I’m trying to study,’ you mumbled lifting your quill again, avoiding his fire filled gaze - but it didn’t seem that Teddy was listening as he landed a hand on your thigh. Your grip on your quill tightened so much you feared the thing would snap, especially when his hands moved further up, sliding like red hot snakes. He was eyeing you like you were a ticking time bomb, waiting for you to push his hand away and when your hand landed on his he was sure the game was over, but rather your eyes met his, parted lips and bright red cheeks. He moved forwards to kiss you, hand moving from your thigh to your hips. His other hand discarded his pen (and studying all together) when your hands moved to push through the short strands of hair on the back of his neck. The kiss lasted long enough to become heated. He seemed to forget where he was as his tongue darted out and brushed over the soft skin of your bottom lip, pushing through to explore your mouth. There was no battle for dominance, he knew what he wanted and he was going to get it. That was until you started tugging on his shirt and pulled away. ‘I can’t - we can’t. We’re in a library,’ you whispered, cheeks still flushed and lips swollen. He could tell you wanted this as much as he did. He lent in as close as he could get, lips grazing the shell of your earlobe. ‘Then you’ll just have to be quiet won’t you?’ Suddenly lethifolds were a lot less interesting. You could feel a heat rising from within you that was hard to ignore as Teddy’s hands travelled. Sure - you were in a secluded corner but Madam Pince was in the isle right beside you. You tried to get the words out to warn Teddy but it was too late, his hands had slipped up under your shirt and chills rose up your spine as his hot hands roamed your stomach, landing on either side as his head swooped down to leave kiss after kiss in the crook of your neck. It was tough enough to study but it was hell to try and stay quiet when his lips were on you like that. You moved your hand to cover your mouth, watching over Teddy’s shoulder to make sure Madam Pince was still busy restocking shelves with returns. She was on the move and your eyes traced her path, she was moving to the next isle over, you were still safe. That is until Teddy found that spot on your neck and you barely managed to muffle the moan that came with it. You felt him smirk into your skin, sucking hard on your pulse point. ‘Shh, you don’t want her to catch us do you?’ He whispered, scraping the shell of your ear again. You did your best to glare at him, but it was hard to stay angry at someone who had every intention of making you writhe underneath them. The torture didn’t end there, his lips ghosted your shoulder and before you knew it you heard the click of the clasp of your bra coming apart. You gasped, muffling it with your hand which was now pressing so hard into your face that it hurt. Teddy’s hands moved to cup both of your breasts, thumb dancing over your nipples as he moved back from your neck to look at you. He landed kisses all over your cheeks before pulling your hand away and pressing his mouth onto yours. He took the opportunity to tug on one of your nipples softly but hard enough for a rippling moan to leave your throat. He swallowed the sound, tongue exploring your mouth until the second you pulled away to see where Madam Pince had got to. She’d moved another isle away but sound echoed in great big buildings like this. It was a mystery to you how she hadn’t heard yet, especially when Teddy pushed his chair out and pulled you over and on to his lap. You squeaked and this time it wasn’t nearly as muffled as it should have been. Teddy froze and the both of you sat there in silence, waiting to hear Madam Pince’s hurried footsteps. There was a sound like a dropping of something incredibly heavy and you moved as quickly as you could to sit back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest and moving to hide yourself as best you could under the table. It was this moment that made you notice how hard Teddy was, the tent in his pants was huge enough to camp in and definitely made it very apparent that something had happened. You motioned for him to move forwards, to move his chair closer so Madam Pince wouldn’t see it, but it was too late. Teddy panicked, dropping a book onto his lap face down. The spine stood up so much it was as if he’d trapped some kind of creature underneath there. ‘Who was it that made that noise?’ Madam Pince’s voice came out like an angry growl. ‘I think we might have a boggart in the hall, I could’ve sworn I heard something on the way here,’ you started. Madam Pince eyed you suspiciously, you’d moved to put your head on the desk as a last ditch attempt to hide the bright purple hickeys Teddy had sucked into the skin of your neck. You smiled sleepily at her, playing it off as having studied for far too long. Teddy noticed this and let out a loud fake yawn, leaning back in his chair. ‘I have actually heard that from another student who was here earlier, I better go fetch the defence teacher I suppose.’ Madam Pince was still holding a large heavy spell book. She moved closer, terrifying both you and Teddy, but she didn’t seem to see anything and rather dropped the book down on the desk and made to leave. She turned halfway to the door. ‘Don’t stay for too long, and be a dear and put that book away for me would you?’ It was a good thing the old bat was nearly too senile to hear a thing, because the loud sigh of relief both you and Teddy let out would’ve been enough for her to grow suspicious - if she wasn’t already suspicious enough. Suddenly it occurred to both of you that you were completely alone in the library now and the very second you moved away from the desk, Teddy had moved you back into his lap. His hands travelled to your clothed hips where they gripped and dug in as much as they possibly could through the material of your skirt. You wouldn’t have much time before she got back - before everyone got back from Hogsmede. ‘Wait,’ you said, standing up and to the side of Teddy. He sat up straight, about to ask if he’d done something wrong but before he could, you’d lifted your skirt. He started at your clothed core as if you’d just flashed him a whole vault of galleons and you could’ve sworn you saw him drool when you dropped your panties to the floor and lifted your jumper over your head. ‘In case she comes back early.’ You unbuttoned the top buttons of your white shirt, loosening your tie and ditching it on the table so that he could still see through it’s flimsy material, but if Madam Pince returned you’d have some chance of hiding yourself. When you lifted your shirt slightly from where it had been tucked in to your skirt, your bra dropped out from underneath it and without thinking, you bent over to pick them up and Teddy swore it was impossible to get any harder - it was painful at this point. When you stood again, chucking your bra and panties to the side, you moved to do the same to Teddy’s trousers. He moaned at the feeling of your fingers on his dick as you pulled them down to the ground, but it was nothing compared to when you guided him to your entrance and slowly slid down his length. His hands gripped your hair like a lifeline as you threw your head back and let out a loud moan that echoed around the entire room. When you were ready, you placed your hands on Teddy’s clothed chest and began to move. There was a strange kind of rush that came with the risk of being caught that had Teddy pushing himself into you at a faster speed, hands moving to grip your hips and guide them. You may be on top but he was still going to have control. Everything inside of you was tensing. Your jaw tensed and your hands gripped fist fills of Teddy’s jumper. He was moaning with you and the danger of being caught came again when voices echoed down the hall outside. ‘A boggart? I thought I got rid of the pesky thing already. ‘Students keep hearing things, maybe we can check in here.’ You were about to move off of Teddy, hoping that you would be able to get off in time to avoid being caught, but Teddy’s grip only got tighter. He shook his head when you glared at him and rather he stripped himself of his tie and motioned for you to bite down on the material. Madam Pince wasn’t directing the defence teacher into the library but rather into a room directly across from it but you both knew it wouldn’t be long now until they ended up here. Teddy’s hips moved with even more urgency, snapping up so fast it made the chair creak and the table hit against the curve of your back, but it wasn’t this that made him strip himself of his tie, as his hand moved to where your bodies met and his rough fingers started rubbing your clit. You felt shivers of an approaching orgasm rise up through your whole body. The moan that left you came out more like a scream as his fingers continued in a rough circle. He didn’t stop, not until he was muffling his own moans with shoving his face into your neck. You tried to warn him that your orgasm was so close that you could feel every single tiny move he made, but it was too late and you let out such a loud moan that it was as if the tie had done nothing. Your high hit you harder than anything you’d ever felt before. You were too weak to even grab on to Teddy’s hair. He came seconds later, thrusting up into you a few more times before he became nothing but a sweaty, huffing heap of turquoise hair. You stayed like that for a while, brushing your fingers through his scalp and pulling the tie from your mouth. You laughed when you put it back around his neck, there was no way he was getting away with not getting asked questions about that. He looked up at you, smiling dopily and landing a kiss on your lips. He waited until you had moved off of him to clean himself up as best he could, which lead to his next question. ‘What are you going to do about-‘ He watched as you slid your panties back on. His eyes widened, staring at your legs and the wet mark that was growing bigger. ‘My dorm. Ten minutes.’

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themockingcrows · 5 years

Text

Companionship Through Circuitry Ch. 2: Radiation Blues

Bro/Hal This chapter can be found on my AO3! This chapter is SFW cw: vomit

Not everywhere is safe to sleep, and warnings shouldn't be ignored. Even if they come from pretentious sounding AI.

What are you doing.

"I'm writin' to my kid, mind your own business."

My God in Heaven save us all, you've procreated.

"Yeah, and my spawn's the raddest thing in the world, what about it. Mind your own business, I'm already smudgin' the shit out of this," Bro muttered, writing against his thigh on layered paper carefully as he could. Being a lefty was suffering sometimes, even if he tried his damndest to write neatly.

There were probably better ways to go about doing this, better times or places, but something about camp that night felt safe and secure, and it was about time for another letter to get written and sent out to check in and let him know what was up. So there he sat by his fire curled up with the paper on his thigh, detailing to Dave what he’d been up to and the newfound.. Friend? Follower? Companion?

The new sunglasses he got that happened to be sarcastic as shit.

If you don't want me to be observing, you should do something sensible. Like take me off your fucking face.

"That'd be too easy. Be a good little bot and hush now."

I am an AI, not a 'good little bot'. Don't be condescending to me.

"I'm sorry I hurt all two of your pre-programmed feelings but seriously, shut your trap for a second and let me write or I'll forget some shit," Bro complained, "I'm leavin' you on because I don't wanna wind up entirely blind to the dark outside the lit up area."

Sleeping would be good tonight. Not only was it safe enough for a little bit of fire by his judgement and with plenty of air to avoid problems from smoke, but there was more than enough room to stretch out and relax. He wouldn't be crammed into a corner or sleeping sitting up tonight, oh no. He'd be fully fed, warm, comfortably dry and sprawled out on a bedroll like he owned the damn place. Buildings without roofs were pretty rad sometimes, bless concrete and brick, bless the steel beams that supported the tall bitches, they made his heart beat.

I should probably warn you since you’re insisting on staying: you are exposed here.

"You said that earlier and I’m tellin’ you: I'm not that exposed. You've been out here what, a day? And tested pre-war. I've been out here forty odd years, let the master take a load off. I'll sleep well tonight'n clear out by dawn. The stairs are shitty and I took my board with me. There's fire between the stairs'n me, I can tuck duck'n roll if I gotta beat feet out the window to the dumpster.. Shit's fine."

That is not what I meant. I'm saying you're exposed to a lot of things here.

"Yeah, we've established that you're wron- ah motherfuck look what you made me do," he sighed, pen leaving a blob of ink in the center of a word he’d paused too long on. Shoddily made hunk of junk. Modern pens could never hold a candle to the sturdy as hell pre-war ones with their pressurized, ever ready gel ink.

Your health is at risk.

Bro let out a steady breath from his nose in irritation, finished writing his sentence by crooking his hand in an awkward claw to avoid the wet spot, and then fanned the paper in the air to dry the ink splotch faster so it wouldn't transfer between pages and locations when he folded it for sending later. Or adding on to, if anything interesting happened between now and the next time he saw someone willing to courier or pass along to a courier for him and a normal delivery fee.

"My health is absolutely fine. I get you’re pre-war and used to the regulations’n shit they required but this is different. ..Look, if you're that concerned just wake me up before bad shit happens to me. You don't need sleep, do you? Just a charge when your inner batteries get low or the onboard rechargin' system gets borked, the rest of the time you're doin' your own thing," Bro guessed. "Just siren me awake before I get nibbled on if you're so concerned about my bein' asleep up here. I'm a light sleeper."

The target t's in front of his eyes turned in a slow loading circle several times before he heard the confirmation chime once again near his ear.

Duly noted. Enjoy writing to your spawn, Bro.

"Was that so hard?" he asked, blowing on the ink for another moment before touching the splotch with a fingertip and finding it dry. Carefully he folded the letter up and tucked it into his bag with the traitor pen in its security cap beside it, then settled down on his sleeping roll with a heady sigh. Finally: off his feet, fully stretched out.. It'd be better to be on a mattress, he'd taken that for granted over the years, but hey this was still pretty sweet. Soft enough to relax on.. soft enough to sleep on..

His eyes grew heavy as he watched the fire crackle and pop now and then, hands folded over his pleasantly full stomach. Within minutes he was out cold, softly snoring with the glasses perched on his face and AR finally quiet. The unnaturally clear sky stretched out overhead and the ever moving wasteland felt like it stood still peacefully for once, just for a little while.

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

Ambrose could hear a sharp, electronic whine as if it were coming from under water. No matter how far or how close he got to it the whine stayed the same pitch, annoying and gnat like. There didn’t seem to be any escape, no way to silence it, not even any way to interact with it since he couldn’t lay eyes on it. Whatever it was pulsed a few times before going louder, making his ears ache and his head feel like it wanted to split. He was sure of one thing: once he got his hands on whatever was making that god awful sound, he was going to put his sword through it and beat it into the dirt till it rested in a million tiny pieces.

He grimaced and finally opened his eyes, staring up at the dark sky of pre-dawn, flickers of unchanging stars and the distant glimmer of what was probably either space junk giving up the ghost and crashing somewhere into the atmosphere or a run of the mill shooting star. This was a beautiful way to wake up aside from the sound pulsing in front of his ears from AR who promptly shut it off as soon as he was conscious, giving him a moment of head pounding reprieve to be more conscious. It was earlier than he wanted to be awake. Ambrose could feel his joints protesting movement and his skin.. itching. Wincing, Bro sat slowly upright and felt his world swimming around him sickeningly, face flushed and frigid at the same time. Everything had a fisheye lens quality to it that he wasn't enjoying in the slightest, and with a failed attempt at standing landing him on his knees again he crawled hurriedly to a corner far from his bedding to empty his stomach out onto the concrete.

Farewell fine dinner, you will be missed. At least it'd been there a few hours, so it wasn't a total waste of calories.

Ah, you're finally up.

"The fuck is hap- hrrk," he got out before another heave took him over, leaving his shoulders around his ears and cold sweat racing down his clammy spine.

I told you: you're exposed here and your health is at risk, AR repeated as if speaking to a particularly slow child.

Groaning, Bro rubbed at his mouth with the back of his forearm and slowly crawled back to his bedding and backpack to try making himself pack. The area was bad, he had to leave no matter how shitty he felt. "Yeah, mind clarifying why I feel like dogshit all at once?"

Radiation sickness is, as they say, a bitch like that. I'd recommend leaving the area promptly as you can to reduce increasing symptoms, and to obtain treatment at the nearest facility you can reach.

The nearest facility, he says. The nearest facility.

"What part of THE FUCKING BOMBS FELL LIKE TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO don't you understand?" Bro complained, gritting his teeth and hurriedly packing. This was going to be a bitch to walk through later, he could already feel it. "I've got some meds but they're not instant.. ugh, don't you think you could've clarified that I was nappin' in a contaminated spot?"

If you'll recall I did. Repeatedly.

"Sayin' my health's at risk and that I'm exposed are two different fuckin' things, and nowhere did you say radiation," growled Ambrose as he shouldered his bag and grabbed his board, heading for the stairs. Away from the light he prepared to lift the shades to his forehead, only to realize the view had changed to something akin to night vision. It wasn't crisp as a cat, but it sure as fuck was an improvement on normal vision, and twice as much on sick vision.

..Okay, so maybe he wouldn't chuck this bitch into the trash after all.

Typically humans take warnings about their health and safety more seriously than 'Yeah, hold my beer'.

"Let's clarify then: if I'm about to get shanked, shot, eaten, beaten, fricasseed or FUCKING IRRADIATED to a level that’d make me sick... you tell me which it is and I'll act accordingly," Ambrose reasoned. "Also, shit, thanks for changin' the vision over. Why didn't you say you could do this earlier?"

You never asked, nor do I assume you read my user manual, as last I was aware there was not one in production.

Ambrose made it downstairs and outside before he dry heaved once again into the dirt. He took a moment afterwards to clear his sinuses, hock and spit for distance to get rid of the scent of vomit from his nose. It was an improvement to be able to breathe again, but he couldn’t pause to rinse his mouth just yet. Fuck he’d kill for some mouthrinse, or some alcohol to wash the taste out of his mouth..

No time to lament, it was time to focus and get moving again. Right. North. He was going North. Which way was North.. Ambrose craned his head back to watch the sky before looking towards the hints of dawn in the distance and adjusting his pathing accordingly.

"Y'know, I bet you've prolly got all kinds of maps and shit available to you," he said, "but I wish you had current maps. A lot of places just straight up don't exist or matter anymore compared to what mattered pre-war. ...And also, let me know when we're free of the contamination zone."

I am capable of adjusting my saved maps if required. Simply show me an adjusted one and I can save the data, or I can alter an existing copy. Also, you're lucky you look like Dirk. I don't believe I'd be willing to help anyone else who spoke to me half as carelessly and crudely as you do.

"Unless I had cheat codes I bet. What, havin' wet robo dreams about your creator or somethin'?"

It's not like that in the slightest, AR insisted in the same stoic monotone as usual, though somewhere in there Ambrose swore up and down he could detect a trace of something more.

"If I wake up with condensation all over you at some point I'm gonna just assume you were focusing too hard on this Dirk guy whose eyes I've got," Ambrose said. "What's robo jizz when you're an AI. Solder? Joint grease? Lubricant of some kind?"

I take back my previous warnings. The area we have left is perfectly clear of radiation. A good long nap is in order in the very clear safe area you were last camping in.

Bro smirked in amusement at the fact he was able to get beneath the skin of something that didn't even have skin to begin with. There was no reason to hold back on this thing. Yes there were feelings, but it wasn't quite the same as heckling Dave. Not the same at all.

This thing gave as good as it got and held no punches, not even when his life had been on the line. Something that could talk shit when he was at risk of dying while also helping him was kind of refreshing.

He kept walking till AR gave the all clear, then slowly took his bag off and sank down to sit in a clear area near some rocks, back against the unyielding surface to keep propped up as he rummaged out a container of pills and a container of water. Unable to really trust the water much anymore after the time it had spent in the contamination zone with him, but having no other options currently, Ambrose took a dose of medication with a few swigs.. before shrugging and draining the rest of the container. Being dehydrated was just as dangerous as what he was trying to cure and would kill him even faster to boot. Low grade radiation was no laughing matter, but damage and weakness from dehydration would just make death inevitable. Putting the pills and the empty container back into his bag, Ambrose sighed and closed his eyes for a few minutes, wanting it all to hit his stomach and settle instead of just coming back up immediately in a waste. AR had his back, and every time he opened his eyes he could see sharp outlines in the green wash of night vision. He did not envy future him in the slightest.. and made a mental note to scavenge bathrooms at the nearest opportunity to re-stock on toilet paper before it became a hot commodity.

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

By the afternoon, Ambrose was still sick but far more mobile. Not in top fighting condition, but mobile. AR had, on his own volition, taken the request from earlier to heart and was keeping an eye out on the surroundings even in directions Ambrose wasn't currently focusing on. His peripheral vision had never been sharper than when a soft, steady voice alerted him to movement from one direction or another to avoid run ins with unwanted animals or people who held no good intentions for him. He kept his grip tight on his sword and used it when absolutely necessary, such as when a hungry wild dog caught scent of him and came in for the kill, but otherwise skirted around even the odd herd animal in case it turned violent. There just wasn’t energy to spare when every step felt like he was running in place.

It was a strange symbiotic relationship, but Bro was content with it for now. The best part of this was that voice didn't sound worried. It was comforting to not have emotion tied into it, letting him pick and choose his reactions at a better pace than feeding into potentially misplaced concerns. No frantic cries or stress, no aggression, not even suggestion in the tone. Just flat, simple alerts telling him which way to turn his head to make his own choices.

The sight of more and more people all filtering the same direction off in the horizon gave Bro a strong sense of relief as night came on. There was a glow in the distance as well, lights and flickery power and people and opportunities to rest and trade safely. Well. Safely as it could get out here anyway. From the shake in his legs and the nausea he was still feeling, the fever, this was a bit of a miracle in itself that he’d stumbled upon a populated trade area. Surely there was a doctor tucked away in there making a killing worth of profit from the locals and the unwary like himself that drifted in.

What had once been a strip mall complex had been reborn as a shopping center for everything from weaponry to clothing to farming supplies, and a nearby apartment block was divvied up to serve as a hotel. The cheapest rooms were the ones shared with multiple people and the cots all in one cramped space, while the more expensive guaranteed privacy of all facilities. Cheap but not that cheap, Bro opted for a room that could be split with another two people instead of several, and lucked out that at the time the amount of people were low and he had privacy for a while. Maybe he should have gone cheaper and shared with others.. But the thought of sharing a bathroom with six people while this sick was unpleasant.

Depositing his baggage beneath the cot he'd rented, he hauled his happy carcass to find the physician and got some extra treatment by way of a quick injection and a good dose of Prussian blue for good measure once he paid the fee. The doctor was used to this kind of thing, and said he should count himself lucky it wasn’t a higher dose that hit his organs. Blood transfusions were hit or miss outside of vaults or areas with more old tech to keep running. He purchased a few more items to take with him just in case of more issues, some more bandages as well, and then wished the physician farewell. After a bit more shopping, a shower and a change of clothes were also a godsend, though he was displeased with how little the collar of the new shirt could be popped compared to the old stained one he was ditching.

Oh well. Sacrifices must be made sometimes even for the suffering. He’d find a decent shirt somewhere else surely, somewhere with some proper abuse of starch.

AR was alternately chatty and silent, observing how society functioned now, from the money to the layout of the buildings and repurposing of property. It wasn't just an Ambrose thing then. The building codes were just chucked out the window entirely and everyone made the best of what they had or what they could get apparently. Even the fashion was different. It was a lot to take in and process, but every curious AR was taking careful notes and using his self teaching abilities to learn all that he could through observation. Ambrose answered every single one of his questions which was surprising but welcome, and he caught himself wondering if it was because he’d raised a child before that the constant barrage of ‘how, why, when, where, why, why, why’ didn’t drive him immediately up the wall.

Maybe the spawn was a boon instead of an unfortunate.

Dinner was courtesy of the strip mall, a restaurant near the end having a nice cozy atmosphere and plenty of good smelling smoke coming from its cracked open front door. The interior seemed to have been a restaurant pre-war as well, though many modifications had been done since to allow for the new dining options. Bro splurged on a double pattied burger with what was supposed to be cheese and sauce and even sprouts on top, easy to grow and even easier to not cook wrong. He got a serving of homemade pickles to put some of the salt back in his body from the sickness earlier, and even some pre-war dessert in a tightly sealed package. It had been Dave’s absolute favorite, an apple treat, and maybe it was the sentimental side of him acting up but he was sure it’d taste even sweeter than he remembered now that it’d been a while since experiencing it.

Bro. Are you certain your belongings are safe where you left them? It seems rather dog eat dog out here, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone robbed you blind.

"They saw what bag I was carryin' when I came in, and what room I'm in. Beyond that.. just gotta hope people're decent," he shrugged, feeding his hunger while he actually had it. He might still feel like he had the flu, but facts were facts: sometimes a guy just needed to stuff his face with greasy food to feel a bit more human.

I suppose there must be laws or rules in different settlements, AR mused. Recreations of what once was.

"Yeah, there's rules,” Bro said, counting off on his fingers as he talked with his mouth half full. “Don't be a douchebag, don't get caught bein' a douchebag, and if you start shit you get hit with deadly force because nobody's got time for even more bullshit than we've already gotta deal with." He licked his thumb free of some pickle juice as he finished listing things off, then dove in for some more. Sweet electrolytes take him home.

Don't forget to send your letter.

Startled that he’d nearly forgotten, Bro straightened up and glanced to the door to gauge how late it must be before turning back to his plate to finish his serving of food off. On a spur of the moment, swooning from the food, he caught the owner’s attention and got a sweet cola as well. The attempts at making fresh never tasted quite the same as the pre-war stock, and it was worth the extra bit of payment to ensure the bubbles were all his.

"Shit, you're right. Bit too late to do it right now, but the mornin' I should be able to find someone. This place is permanent it seems like, there'll be traders back and forth no doubt," he said. "Good call AR."

Hal.

"Come again?" Bro asked, confused.

Bro's vision flickered briefly as the letters H A L crossed his vision, followed by the same strange pair of red eyes with dark sclera he'd seen before. It lasted just a few seconds before fading out of sight, leaving him with the usual target t's of the shades instead.

My name. It’s Hal.

"Isn't your name AR?"

That is another sort of name, yes. But I would prefer if you called me Hal.

"...It's what Dirk called you, isn't it," Ambrose guessed.

Yes. But I would still prefer to have a name than an acronym.

Bro used one gloved, rough hand to twist off the cap from the bottle of soda and take a swig. It was sweet enough it made his teeth hurt a bit. Perfect end to a greasy, rich meal. His upset stomach would thank him for it later surely, but he was prepared for it now.

"Alright then. Hal. I can do that."

Thank yo-

"Soon as you admit my name isn't stupid."

The targets disappeared and the turning circles reappeared for a time like a holding signal.

Request does not compute. Name too unfortunate to register over acceptable name of Bro for user. Unable to re-register user, he said, accompanied by the saddest excuse for a failure tune Bro had ever heard in 8bit melody.

He sighed.

"Fine, fine. God damn you're a prick for a guy without a prick, Hal."

I've no doubt that will be rectified once we find my body. Keep your commentary in line with that thought as if it were already reality moving forward.

"Give an inch take a mile. Alright, duly noted. ...Wait, why the fuck would a government made AI need a fuckin' di-"

My creator was all about authenticity.

"...Right."

It's true.

"This is my rifle, this is my gun, this one's for shootin' this one's for fun," Ambrose sighed, tipping his bottle back to swig the rest of the drink down before casually belching the rush of bubbles back out. Phew. Better. Goodbye nausea, hello sweet relief.

I've no idea what you are referring to.

"Keep takin' notes, Hal, you'll catch up eventually to everything that Dirk didn't program into you. That's all the fun shit anyway, people always forget the real fun shit."

#Stridercest #Bro Strider #Lil Hal #AR #BroHal #my fic #Homestuck

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burning-landfill · 6 years

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Sanders Sides Ghost AU HC

What is this, the thousandth ghost au? Probably. Did that stop me from writing this? Nope!

Warnings: Death but with ghosty bits, crying, wittle bit of anxiety, dat sweet sweet platonic LAMPT

Thomas is a spiritualist and works to help spirits fulfill their unfinished deeds so they can pass on

Thomas usually has one or two spirits around his house because of how often he finds them and how long helping them can take

He doesn’t mind the company though and gets a little sad when no one else is around. The company is comforting to him

Ghosts are tied to whatever location they had a strong connection with, which is usually the place they died but can move from that spot if a connection with a living person is made and then they’re tied to that person/ their house. Thomas has had a lot of spirits attached to him

As much as he enjoys helping spirits pass, once they leave it always hurts a little.

He keeps a journal of all the spirits he’s met with little pictures of them (he’ll get the pictures off the internet or draw them if he can’t find a good one/ one the spirit likes)

He got into spiritualism after a friend of his died and he started catching glimpses of them around his home

Roman died the day before a big theater performance where talent scouts were coming to watch him perform

Died the night before the show because his friends saw how he was stressing out and decided to take him out to take his mind off things

He had the main part in the play and once he died they canceled the production out of respect

Roman is upset that he didn’t get to perform but even more upset that the play got canceled

Logan died when he was out with friends who where taking him out to dinner and drinks before opening his college acceptance letter

He got the letter from his dream college and was nervously staring at it for an hour before his friends decided to take him out of the house

If he got in it was a celebration outing, if he didn’t it was a screw college outing

He slips away halfway through the night to open it and sits down with the letter balancing on his knees as he tries to psych himself up

The wind catches the letter and Logan chases after it, cursing himself for not hanging on to it tighter

He’s so focused on chasing it that he doesn’t even notice when it blows out over a large drop off and Logan plummets off it, dying on impact

It takes three days for his body to be found and the letter is nowhere in sight

Logan tries to pretend that it doesn’t bother him but he wouldn’t still be around if that were true

The others sometimes hear him cry in a distant part of the house

Patton died in front of his boyfriend and feels horribly guilty for scarring him like that

In the beginning he said that he died crossing the street to the dog park before he could pet the cute little doggies

He genuinely believes that’s why he’s stayed around (he’s in deep denial)

He was on a date with his boyfriend (going to a movie, getting ice cream, the works) when he spotted a dog park across the street

He got excited and started jumping up and down and pulling his boyfriend towards the park asking to go and when he said yes Patton sprinted across the street

He was hit by a truck that he didn’t see coming and got launched across the street

His boyfriend held him while he lay bleeding out and a small crowd started to form around them while the truck driver was on the phone with the police

Someone in the crowd even had a dog with them from the park but Patton died before he noticed

He’s always felt horrible about the event and what he put his boyfriend through but since he was told that spirits stay around because of something left unfinished/ unfulfilled he thought it was the dog thing

Virgil ended up in the hospital a week before a Panic! at the Disco concert and ended up missing it only to die the next day

He finally got his social anxiety under enough control to go to a concert for one of his favorite bands

He always wanted to go but his anxiety basically trapped him in his house

He also isolated himself from people because of this so he never had any outside motivators to go but he was excited about the people he’d meet there

After years of therapy and different medications he finally feels like he can go

Panic at the Disco concerts always looked like so much fun from the videos he’d seen on YouTube

Meeting

Thomas met Roman at his local theater and agreed to help him

Roman could often be spotted sitting in the empty seating during rehearsals or on the stage only briefly. No one has really gotten a good look at the theater ghost but most believe that he’s really there and will say goodbye to him as they leave for the night (the theater does have a ghost light and even though it just started as tradition, it’s now left on specifically for him)

Roman and Thomas go out to explore the town and get something to eat to get to know each other better

This is where the two run into Logan at the outskirts of town and he joins up with them

They spend the rest of the night getting to know each other and they finally go back to Thomas’ place

On one of Thomas weekly trips to the hospital (he goes there to seek out more spirits to help. It’s where he finds most of them) he spots Virgil and spends almost an hour trying to follow him and convince him that he only wants to help him. Virgil eventually gives in (half of it was just to get Thomas to stop acting like a fool in front of the staff (they’re used to it)) and they head home

On the way back Thomas sees Patton run in front of his car and slams on the breaks. He freaks out once he see that Patton is literally inside the hood of his car but calms down once he remembers ghost are a thing. Patton comes along excitedly

Thomas is quietly happy to have such a full house again

Ending

Thomas sets up Roman’s canceled play again, and even manages to get most of the original cast back. Thomas promotes the crap out of the show, drawing in a rather large audience with the added benefit of donating the funds to theater programs that put on plays for kids in hospitals. He even gets the talent scout to come back (Thomas has a lot of connections) as a guest. Thomas plays the main role and dedicates the performance to Roman. It’s the best play he’s seen and even though he’s not apart of it, to see what could’ve been gives him an warm tingling feeling in his heart. Some people might report seeing a crying man sitting in one of the empty reserved seats before disappearing but that would just be ridiculous

Logan’s letter is long gone but Thomas still is determined to find it. He gets in contact with the school and pulls a few strings to get a new letter sent out again. Once it arrives Logan is once again scared to open it so Thomas suggests going for a drive. They drive for a few hours, not saying much as Logan clutches the envelope and stares out the window. The car eventually stops and Thomas and Logan get out, simply walking around the large green laws of wherever they’ve stopped. It’s only after a half an hour that they stop at what appears to be front doors and Logan realizes where they are. A tear falls down his face as he reads the campus sign before ripping open the letter and quickly reading it. “I got in.” He all but whispers but them shouts it a second time, jumping up and down as he bawls uncontrollably, giving Thomas a tight hug before shouting his accomplishments over and over again

Thomas takes Pat out to the same dog park he wanted to go to all those years ago and they just walk around and laugh, reaching down to pet some dogs that zoom by or jump up to greet them. After almost an hour of playing with the pooches dose Patton realize he’s now alone. He looks around frantically and spots Thomas next to a large tree, talking to someone out of view. He runs over with a “why’d you’d run off kiddo-“ but cuts himself as he sees the other person Thomas is talking to. It’s been so long but Patton still remembers every aspect of his face like it was engraved into his eyelids. He’d missed him so much. Patton cries silently, just looking at who used to be the love of his life. He eventually starts to listen in on their conversation and lets out a choked laugh at the topic. They’re talking about him, specifically the time he tried to sneak a cat out from a pet shelter but his constant sneezing gave him away. His boyfriends laugh melted his heart and he just fonds over the other as the two talk about him. The conversation takes a turn though as Thomas asks how he’d dealing with it all and Patton just holds his breath, scared to hear about how he’s ruined his loves life. But his boyfriend instead tells Thomas a story about the people in his life. How he grew up in a dysfunctional household but the old lady next door always let him stay at her house and bake cookies, until she passed away in his teenage years. How the nice English teacher would always help him out with his school homework and was part of the reason he even graduated. How a nice family had bought him a pizza when he was short on change and had been struggling to make ends meet for a while. He explained that although these people where in his life for only a short amount of time, they changed him into the person he was today and he wouldn’t trade those moments for the world. “It’s the same with Pat. He... he made me into a better person. The world was so much brighter with him. I loved, I laughed, I was more myself then I’d even been in my whole life and it was all because of him. Him dying killed me inside. I felt hopeless and empty but… I can’t change what happened. I have to live my best and fullest life; if for no one else then for him. To show him how much better I’ve become. Our time was short, too short, but damn it, he helped me to be so much better and I refuse to let that go to waste.” He was crying now but a smile still shone proudly on his face as the sun started to set. Patton lost it, weeping from sadness and happiness and all he could do was go up and pull his boyfriend into a hug. His boyfriend shuttered slightly at what seemed to be a familiar touch but relaxed with the passing of a warm breeze.

Virgil seemed easy enough but ever since he died his anxiety had been through the roof. Thomas had already purchased the tickets but now came the hard part; getting Virgil psyched to go. It took some time but eventually Virgil’s excitement overtook his anxiety and he was soon bouncing off the walls with unbridled energy. That is, until the concert day showed up and his anxiety hit him again full force. Thomas didn’t know what to do and they had to leave in about an hour (not that he’d tell Virgil that) so he sat down and just talked with him, trying to get to the bottom of all this. Nothing seemed to be working until Virgil had muttered that he shouldn’t be so scared to go to a concert where he’d be accepted as he was, then it clicked. Every time Virgil talked about going to this thing, he talked about making new friends, being in an understanding environment, or having a place of his own, as he put it. It was never about the concert, it was about being accepted. Thomas pulled Virgil up suddenly and started pulling him towards the door despite his protests. “Stop, what’re you doing!” Virgil shouted and Thomas spun around and looked Virgil dead in the eyes. “We’re going out.” Thomas let out a sly smile, “as a family.” Virgil looked behind him to see the others standing there, waiting to go. Virgil let out a slight sniffle but covered it with the clearing of his throat. “Well, let’s go then.” And they all went out to the concert together. Afterwards they went out to eat and ended up at the restaurant until closing where they then changed locations to a grassy park where they laid out under the stars. The conversations were light and teasing and maybe it was now Thomas’ turn to let out a few tears as he realized how close he’d gotten with these spirits and how he was happy to call them his family.

They all go home and Thomas sits on the couch with them all and watches a movie together. He knows that they’ll all have to leave soon, pass on now that they have no ties to this world anymore but he pushes the thoughts away. Maybe avoidance will make their departure hurt less. He drifts off not too much later, trying to stay awake for their conversations but inevitable failing. Once he wakes up he sees the the living room is empty and just stares at the walls for a while, frustrated with himself for not staying awake to see them off and eventually letting the sadness fill his heart as the reality of the situation slowly sinks in. He’s alone again. Just these four walls, his thoughts, and the smell of pancakes in the air. Thomas freezes. Pancakes? Why pancakes? He slowly gets up and follows the smell to the kitchen, spotting Patton working at the stove, quietly humming with Virgil working on cleaning dishes next to him. Before Thomas can open his mouth he hears the heavy footfalls of Roman coming down the stairs and what sounds like harsh whispers between him and Logan (something about the best flavor of some type of jelly). Roman stops upon seeing Thomas up “Oh, you’re up. Sorry, we were trying to be quite.” Patton spins around at that and gives Thomas a huge smile, “good morning! We didn’t wake you did we?” Thomas just stands there, looking at them all as his brain tried to process it. They’re still here. They stayed. They’re with him and he’s not alone. “You ok kiddo?” But the only response Patton gets are tears rolling down Thomas face. “Oh no, what’s wrong?” Patton rushes over to him, giving him a big hug. Thomas buries his face into Patton’s shoulder and cries. He feels Roman come up behind him, his strong arms holding him securely. Logan and Virgil join a second later, hugging his sides (ha) and enveloping him completely in their embrace. “You stayed...” Thomas mutters out. “Of course we did,” Patton responds, “we’re FAMily!”

By the way, I have no intention of writing this so if any of you people want to take this idea and run with it feel free

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #LAMPT #ghost au #my writing #long post #I feel like roman really got the shaft for development in this but damn I can not write for that boy #I love him but I'm not equipped for his Extra (tm) personality #maybe one day my sweet prince

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juleschurchill · 5 years

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a letter from the desk of mayor churchill

Dear Ms. Timbers,

I have spent the last morning watching my daughter get pummeled by the District Ten boy and barely come out alive. I was on a stage in front of the entirety of District Seven as my Jules was thrown into the mud, in both a literal and metaphorical sense. I had to keep my composure as my first-born child was nearly murdered in cold blood.

Because of my station and my role as a public figure, I do not have the advantage of viewing the brutalization of my oldest child in private, but instead, in the middle of the District center.

You can imagine the toll this takes on me.

@larktimbers

I trust that you are doing everything in your power to bring my Jules home, but you’ll forgive me if I push you a little harder on it, as a father. Or, even as a mayor--objectively, Jules would be an excellent Victor by every parameter, and she would be excellent for both the Capitol and for Seven. I truly believe this.

Ms. Timbers, in these next few paragraphs, I’m going to be frank. I ask that you forgive me later, for it.

I am aware that more than a few people in this District believe it is a sort of justice, what Jules is going through. The reaping, the violence, they might be taking a certain pleasure out of it. I know that old men with calloused hands and young men with broken backs dislike my family and families like mine, hate everyone who doesn’t toil their time in those damn forests.

I am a good Mayor to this District. I dislike public whippings and executions, I use them as sparingly as I can. But I realize that the poorer citizens of this District resent those with more. I realize why this is.

Jules also know this. I explained this to my children once, when I had a little too much whiskey and tonic and my dear wife wasn’t there to shush me. There has to be someone to hate that’s not the Capitol. That is the purposes of mayors and merchants, and to a certain extent, Victors. We both owe the Capitol a debt, and we repay that by turning our backs on the rest of the District, becoming less like our people and more like our masters in the Capitol.

So, you and I, Ms. Mason, my family, and the others like us are not typical citizens of District Seven. Perhaps we are even traitors to our own kin. I don’t know.

I have always been friendly with the peacekeepers. I am regularly invited to the Capitol. I have regularly had Capitol citizens in my own home. I am despised for this.

So, some call it justice that Jules suffers this torture, and that I must watch my own child go through this unfairness. They certainly feel some sort of schadenfreude from it, and perhaps that was purposeful on the part of the Capitol.

Don’t mistake my meaning, here. I am aware that the reaping is completely, utterly random. I am aware that to suggest otherwise would be considered by some to be treason. But the reaping of Jules serves as a reminder to this District, and perhaps to myself. It is now clear that my family is no no better than anyone else. We might be rich, might be powerful, but my daughter would be killed too, slaughtered in front of the entire world to see.

I cannot allow that to happen.

Jules, as you have probably already found, is an exceptional child. She’s bright, incredibly smart, smarter than me by far. She can do things I would only dream of, if given the chance. She has the ambition to achieve any goal she thinks of, and she could think of anything. She deserves to live, deserves to grow old with grandchildren in an old house filled with books.

I keep thinking of her as a child, as a baby. You have children. You know, or will know this, eventually.

She was so tiny, when we took her home from the hospital. I could barely her, it made me too nervous. I thought I might break her, she was so fragile, so precious already. But, fragile. She was sick all the time, that first year. If I were not myself, she would have died. If I was a lumberjack, or anyone else in the District, I never would have been able to afford the medicine I bought to try and fix her coughing, to stop her pink skin from turning blue with her labored breathing.

She got better, eventually. Of course she did. Jules has always gotten better, always found her way out of binds.

I don’t know what I did to deserve her. I don’t know who to thank for her, because she is so much better than I deserve. She was my little assistant from the time she could walk, always curious about the family business, always wanting to help me. And she actually did, especially as she got older. Smart as a whip, my Jules. She could’ve held her own with the damn President if she had gotten the chance.

She’s still a little girl, though. She’s tiny, and fragile and skinny and it’s my job to protect her. And I cannot.

(I’ve ruminated on that, these past few days--I am the most powerful man in Seven. I cannot protect my own daughter. What is the point of power if I cannot protect the ones I love the most? What good is it?)

I have done what I can to bend the odds in her favor, given my limited position. I have friends in the Capitol, and they’ve invested in her safety, they’re betting on her, sponsoring her. I fear the debts I am incurring on her behalf, and I fear she may have to repay them--but Jules must come home, and I do what I must.

You must do what I cannot. You are her mentor, but now, especially as Arion Barker is dead, you are her sole protector. She is your priority, and she’s had every advantage I could think to give her. The rest is on your shoulders. Whether or not she dies in there is up to you, her future is in your hands. This is, of course, not ideal. But, this is the situation we have been dealt.

I would do anything for Jules, my little Jules. I would die for her, I would kill for her. She deserves heaven and earth to be moved for her. She deserves to come home, to live longer than eighteen years.

If you ever require money or anything else that would help in ensuring Jules’ safe return to me, do not hesitate to contact me through the messenger I sent.

Yours,

Aaron Churchill

(Mail tended to get “lost” in Panem. At the very least, read by appropriate middle-men. As attempts by the Mayor of District Seven to influence the games in any way was illegal, perhaps downright treasonous, Aaron Churchill wanted to avoid such things. He had to call in favors to get the letter in the right hands, and no one else’s.

Justinian King was an heir to a Capitol publishing empire, completely in control of every word printed in Panem. Newspapers, novels, textbooks, pamphlets, nearly everything went out of King’s Publishing, a sparkling glass tower in the middle of the downtown Capitol.

The man used a lot of paper.

So, he visited Seven a lot. Aaron knew him well, knew his quirks and his grating way of speaking. He called as soon as the reaping aired in the Capitol, not about shipments of tariffs (what Aaron’s number was supposed to be used for) but to gush about Jules’ chances in the games.

“Oh, she looked so terrified up there, but you could tell she was putting on a brave face, such a good girl. It’s always interesting, when the upper-crust of the districts get reaped, because it’s like, they know more about, like, social situations and they’re clean and everything, but they’re usually not very good at fighting--”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He wanted to curse out Justinian, to threaten murder or destruction, but he was half a world away, and Aaron needed a favor.

He hated needing favors. But instead of telling to fuck off, he laughed with a good nature.

“Oh, I think my Jules is a fighter. Wanna hear about that? Or maybe some deals we can make after the games. As long as I’m not planning a, ahem, a funeral.”

By the end of conversation, Jules Churchill had her first sponsor, her first die-hard sycophant. Justinian Kings showered money on the cause of Jules Churchill, pushed for articles to be written, for TV spots to be aired. He hand-delivered the first letter from Aaron Churchill to Lark himself, waltzing past the Peacekeepers and up to Lark’s door in the casual way only Capitolites could, with no fear of their guns or power.

He slipped the note under the door, all ghost-white with a single blood-red wax seal with the old sign of the Churchill’s on it, the old sign of power that meant everything in Seven and N O T H I N G in the Capitol.)

#long as fuuuuuuuuck #guys i'm crazy but i needed some aaron churchill in my life bcos he's lowkey my boy #if jules wins i'm going to try and finesse him into becoming a wc idk how but i WILL #p ; aaron churchill #p ; lark #self para #para

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bts-dream-land-blog · 7 years

Text

Unexpected crush I 08

01 I 02 I 03 I 04 I 05 I 06 I 07 I 08

Words count: 2444

Member: Jimin & you (ft. Taehyung)

Genre: Fluff

A/N: I shouldn’t but i’m shipping Crystal and Tae! :://

_____________________________________________

No one knows my struggle, they only see the trouble.

***

Chapter eight

Hate

Spanish.

I mean, no offense to all you Latinos out there but I'm not a big fan of your language – well, yeah I am a fan of it, I'm just not a big fan of learning it. Mostly because I suck at memorizing words, but also because some of your letters changes to another letter. Like it's written Jose, but it's pronounced, Hose. Excuse my language, but that fucks up my brain. I loved my Spanish teacher, she was so nice – it's just the subject itself. Spending ninety minutes listening to something you don't even understand isn't exactly what I would call fun.

Finally, after what felt like eternity, the school bell rang signalizing that this period was dismissed. I quickly gathered all of my belongings and ran out the door so I wouldn't get squeezed trying to get to my locker. I spotted Andrea amongst the students that were in the hallway, and called for her. ''Andrea!'' She wasn't that far from my reach so I grabbed her backpack and dragged her back to me. She almost stumbled but I caught her. I expected to be greeted with a pleasant look but instead, she met me with annoyance. ''Why didn't you stop when I called for you?''

''I didn't hear you,'' She spat. A little taken back, I asked – ''What's wrong, did something happen?'' For a split second she looked like she wanted to strangle me, but then she changed her expression to a lighter and to a more pleasing one. ''I'm fine, just stressing out,'' I squint my brows, ''Biology test.'' She adds.

I nod understandingly, ''Alright, well if you need to talk, I'm here.''

''I know that.''

I point to the cafeteria with my finger, ''You want to have lunch?'' She didn't get to answer me right away because an arm was slung around my shoulder and a strong sense of cologne hit my nostrils. I looked up above my shoulder where Tae was standing by my side, smirking.

''Ready for lunch?''

''Who said I was going to have lunch with you?'' Tae brought his hand to his heart acting as if I had broken his heart, ''Ouch,'' I rolled my eyes and shortly – Jungkook was by my side too. There was nowhere out now, ''Hey Cece.''

''Hey Ay-Ay'' His smile fell, leaving me to laugh out loud. ''I was actually going to have lunch with Andrea.'' I pointed out, looking at Andrea infront of me. Jungkook and Tae both looked at Andrea, first without saying anything, then Jungkook stretched out his hand and greeted her. Tae followed his action later but his face was filled with suspicion ''Have we met before?''

A hint of panic flashed through Andrea's eye but she quickly hid it, ''Nope,'' Tae nodded while letting go of her hand. ''Okay, I'm starving. Let's go.'' I exclaimed walking my way to the cafeteria. ''For a girl who never eats in the cafeteria, you sure walk fast.''

''I'm a different person when I'm hungry, Jungkook.''

''Oh really?''

''Really.'' I confirmed.

Lunch was nice. I started getting used to the stares weeks ago, and most of the students at this school started getting used to Jungkook hanging with me. ''When can you take that off?'' Tae nodded towards my cast. My pretty cast that I have been wearing on my arms for a while, was now drowning in signatures from so many people that I don't even know. Ever since Jungkook started hanging with me, people have been acknowledging me more than usual and I had to admit, it was kind of fun. People volunteered to work with me for projects, and it was nice.

It's been six weeks since I broke my arm, and through all this time – Jungkook and Tae has been by my side constantly. ''Very soon, I hope,'' I looked at Andrea who was currently mixing her salad with her fork, she bought it fifteen minutes ago but she hasn't eaten anything. She was in her own world, and she has been like this for weeks now.

Distant.

I was starting to get worried.

The bell rang and I grunted loudly slamming my head on the table. ''Get to class, C.'' Jungkook told me, flicking my forehead. Usually when you meet someone, you are shy and quiet and then when you get to know them – you actually like them more than you thought you would, and you're comfortable around them. It's like that with me and Jungkook, only Jungkook – likes to get violent and to extra sometimes – in a nice way of course. It just proves that he cares about me, I guess because he's always having my back and always taking care of me. I haven't gone a day without talking to him and I have to admit that I've created this attachment to him.

Jungkook was already gone when I looked up, and so was Tae. Andrea was the only one left and she wasn't looking quite happy. In fact she looked angry, ''You okay?'' I asked once again.

''Yeah, I need to go.'' She bolted off to who knows where, leaving me alone. I packed my stuff and was about to put on my jacket when I spotted Cameron. Cameron, the same guy I saw when I was rolling down the stairs. I frowned, was he the one who pushed me down those stairs. Only the thought made me mad. ''Cameron!'' I called.

Cameron turned around, he probably didn't expect me to call after him but guess who was wrong. ''Hey Crystal,''

Why was his voice so scary and creepy? ''A question has been stuck in my thoughts ever since the day I broke my arm, and I need you to answer it.'' I said straightforward. Cameron smirked, crossing his arms in front of his torso, amused. ''Okay, ask then.''

''You're the one who pushed me down the stairs, right?'' He might've looked confident in the start but now he just looks like a deer caught by a car light.

''I- I don't know what you're talking about.''

''It sounds like you do, why would you stutter if not?''

He scoffed, ''You don't know shit, so don't go around blaming people from something you did to yourself.''

''What?''

''You saw it coming, Crystal.''

''Katie set you up, didn't she?'' I asked, impatient. Sure Katie had warned me but I never thought she would make a guy like Cameron push me down those stairs. Thing could've gone worse if I landed the wrong way or if I fell the wrong way. I was furious. I never got to utter another word though, because Jungkook’s voice broke through. ''You better run away before I throw a fist to your face.'' His voice gave chills through my entire body, I used all my strength to not go home and hide under my blanket.

''Hey Jungkook,'' I looked confused at Cameron. ''You know him?"

''Remember how I told you my ex cheated on me?'' Jungkook asked through gritted teeth, and I nodded. A couple of weeks ago when we were at this diner while Tae was fixing my broken PlayStation, Jungkook had told me he had a girl he really liked in the past – but she cheated on him and that's one of the main reasons he doesn't date. Her cheating really made an impact on him because he liked her that much. ''This is the guy who stole her.''

''Puh-lease. Bianca was screwing me since day one – you were just so blindly in love that you didn't even see it.''

Love? Was Jungkook in love with Bianca? I don't know why, but the word love and another girls name matching with Jungkook made me mad. Maybe even jealous...Jungkook tensed up beside me, his hands rolling up into a fist and his jaw tightened. I put my hand on top of his fist, and I felt relieved that he relaxed to my touch.

''Don't cross the line, Cameron. I'm not messing around.'' I warned him. Luckily Cameron didn't feel like arguing or crossing the line, he just walked away with a shrug and a wink. I turned to look at Jungkook who was still restraining himself from beating the crap out of Cameron. ''You should go to class,'' He stated.

''Will you be okay? You're not going to beat him up, right?'' He looked at me and his eyes were filled with anger. Anyone would know that he still had strong feelings towards Bianca and like mentioned earlier, that made me angry. I didn't tell him though, I just stood there looking at him – waiting for an answer.

''I'm not gonna promise anything, but what I can promise is that if you don't get to class you'll get a mark.'' He said too sternly even if it was supposed to come out as a joke. He walked away from me, only to come back two seconds later. "I came back to give you this, but you were talking to that douche so," he stretched his hand and inside of it was my lucky pen that he had borrowed for a test couple of weeks ago. I grinned, thanking him. He only gave me a nod and trudged away to his next class that he was already late for - shit!

I'm also late for class!!!

- "Yeah Sierra, on my way home now." Sierra was my sisters name if I haven't mentioned it earlier, it's a really pretty name and it makes me wonder why my parents chose such an ugly name for me. Crystal - yuck. I used to get a lot of compliments on my name, and I still do - but when you have that name your entire life, it can get ugly.

I had to stay in school for quite a while after it ended because of some assignments that I had to do in the lab, + I had extra art lessons. I wasn't exactly what you call a prodigy but art excites me, I would drop sleep for art.

...sleep.

I realized how tired I was when I started yawning, "are you yawning?" Sierra asked, entertained. "Nah, I'm -" there came another yawn. Sierra laughed on the other side of the phone and told me to hurry back to bed and get my sleep and stop staying up so late. Someone give this woman a "mother" certificate because right now, she was acting like one. I didn't mind though, if my mom didn't act like one, and my sister didn't - who would?

I hung up and placed my phone back in my pocket. The streets were empty, and it was really dark. The only source of lights came from the lamppost but even those were weak. I heard crying as I passed the park near my neighborhood and I started getting those goosebumps. I've heard lots of stories about young girls walking home from school in the middle of the night and encountering a ghost. I loved horror movies, but I never wanted to experience anything like what came out of those movies.

As stupid as I was, I walked closer to the crying sound and tried to get a view over what it was. A puzzled look appeared on my face when I saw who it was. What was he doing here, crying? I took a seat next to him and placed my hand on his shoulder. I felt him jump underneath my touch but when he looked up and locked eyes with mine, he relaxed. "Are you okay?" That's the stupidest question ever, Crystal. Of course he wasn't okay, he's crying for god sake.

"Tip top," he said through sobs but the tears were still visible. He tried to set up the bad boy, player facade - but it wasn't working, it just fell back down again. He was totally broken, and I could tell he had been holding in all of this for a really long time. "You wanna talk about it?" I asked softly, not too forward.

"Sure," I waited for him to start speaking but he was busy sobbing. "I'm sorry, this is just hard. I haven't opened up to anyone before."

"It's fine, take your time." I assured him with a smile. He attempted to smile back, even if it was weak - it was still pretty nice. Tae was amazing as a person and he has always been the one who cheered me up when Jungkook couldn't, and cheered Jungkook up when I couldn't. He appeared as the sweetest person on earth with not a single care or problem existing in his life, I guess I was wrong.

"Where do I start?"

"From the start,"

"Okay," he nods - he rubs his palms against each other to create some sort of heat to his hands that were probably really cold - "So, I came home today and my dad brought home another woman. He told me that she and him was gonna get married, and for someone who's overly attached to his own mother, I couldn't believe it."

"I was mad, I was furious and I told him. Dad got mad as well and said some words that I'm sure never was supposed to leave his mouth,"

"What was it?" I asked.

"Mom is dead and she's never coming back - get over her." Tae said cracking halfway. I felt my eyes sting as well. I've never had a mother figure in my life so loosing my mom would probably not be as difficult for me as it would be for Tae who was really close to his mom. He told me a lot about her and for a while I thought she actually existed, he talked about her with so much passion that I thought she was still alive. Again, wrong.

"I wasn't mad at him for saying those words, I guess I'm more mad at myself for not accepting her death. It's been five years, and I'm still waiting for her to return and hug me."

"I just miss her so much, C" That was enough for me to pull him close to me. Not because I felt sorry for him and I pitied him, but because I could already feel my tears coming and because it broke me that someone as happy as Tae had to go through all of this. So there we sat, on a cold fall day, hugging each other because what else was there to do when someone was broken??

#bangtan scenarios #bts #bangtan boys #bangtan jungkook #bts reaction

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jelanisaeed · 5 years

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Ocean Shipping: First Impressions

First impressions—more like permanent introductions. Strangers utilized these mere glimpses of personality to decide who people were. Their life stories? Constructed without a second thought. Motives? Already defined by their first vocal tone. No one escaped this scrutiny, but Turquoise hoped one day he would.

First impressions always gave him great anxiety. Part of it because he never had a great track record with people. Odd, huh? All his friends assumed he made friends easy! With the way he gravitated to others. Plus, his friendship with Jasper and Ammolite spoke for itself. They were his best friends and they grew close within a few months of knowing each other! And his fellow Pokédex Holders? Easy most times!

Shame it was never this smooth with outside people.

Either he gave off too much of himself or too little. No in-betweens and grey just extremes to burn bridges or push them away. Part of him never understood it. Perhaps it was his eyes? Paxton always told him they reacted to his emotions.

Turquoise frowned, staring into the mirror. His vibrant, sky blue eyes reflected clear skies on his best days. Days filled with joy and excitement drew people in and left them prancing before him. His worst, however, were gray skies and powerful storms. A maelstrom—Paxton had called it one time—with terrifying power. Those days never gave him the results he craved.

But it couldn’t be just his eyes. No, too simple.

Was it his smile? Nah, that couldn’t be it. Paxton always said his smile brightened up the world. Dragged people to heaven with its radiance and slayed the darkness plaguing them.

“Then why did he walk away?” Turquoise sighed. He continued twisting his hair, but he couldn’t help the pit swelling in his soul. And when it finally sprouted wings, he winced. Those deadly wings rattled his bones and poisoned his thoughts. Negativity, he realized, leaked from its touch and he scowled.

He shouldn’t do this. Years of experience told him dwelling never brewed well for him. It poisoned him worse than others. Because his powers took over. Thrusting his emotions into a wild frenzy as they screeched for a resolution.

Yet here he was. Sitting in the dark and twisting his hair for the fun of it. A distraction, he amended. The perfect distraction at first, but it only served to remind him of what he lost. And as he sat at his desk he saw nothing of the man he was. Only a broken husk falling apart at the seams.

“He left…just like everybody else.”

Granted, their first impression wasn’t perfect. Getting one’s emotions manipulated by Reuno and then defeated by Motha wasn’t what many called a friendly encounter. And for him to enter the scene dripping wet with puffy eyes and a cold heart.

It wasn’t the best, I’ll give ‘im that, he scowled, finishing another twist. But I thought all the time we spent together made up for it.

The laughs, smiles, adventures. They spent months together as a couple seeing all Sinnoh had to offer. And stole every opportunity to kiss and love. Never far apart, but these days made standing across the room like mountains of separation. A spike to the heart when its only weeks before their anniversary.

Then again, they broke up on an anniversary.

“How you meet is how you lose ‘em,” he sighed. Shame the mirror couldn’t grant him the wisdom he craved. Just some parting words on how to recover from a heartbreak. “Met in pain, left me worse.”

Turquoise finished his last twist with a scowl. Heartbreak was no worse than loosing family. A piece ripped away until someone filled the vacant spot. But who? Paxton’s departure only widened it. And no wound benefited from such exposure. The cool, brisk breeze became irritating and simple pleasures like eating only served to further burn his soul.

(Turquoise,) Miso nuzzled his cheeks and smiled. The sly misdreavus had always been a mystery to him. All ghost-types were. His empathetic abilities always attracted them to him but never got a perfect reading on them. An emotion just off-center. Or memory just a little diluted. Something always interfered with the signal.

(Are you okay?)

Okay? The emotions burning through his heart told him that wasn’t the correct answer. And the deep pain stabbing his chest told him lying wasn’t either. But it was tempting. Lying never failed to eliminate the issue for the moment. Even if came back to haunt him. Like an addiction, it craved more and more until it drained him dry and left him dirty.

“No, I’m not,” he smiled, but the pain never left. He pulled Miso into a hug and sighed. Miso’s ghostly form provided the right amount of comfort he desired. “But thank you for being here.”

Sometimes hugs solved all the worlds problems. And Miso gave some of the best. Without arms of his own though, he became Turquoise’s squishy pillow. A perfect remedy for a bad day as a kid.

(I’m here for you always, silly empath~!) Turquoise felt the grin on Miso’s face before the sly guy phased out of his arms and circled around him. The negative emotions in his heart faded away and Miso’s necklace shined with vibrant energy. He heard misdreavus feed on fear, but perhaps they felt on all kinds of emotions as well.

Either way, Turquoise loved having him around.

“Turquoise,” a new voice echoed in the room. And it was the last person he wanted to see. Turquoise craned his neck and found himself staring into deep brown eyes. Deep brown eyes attached to a rich, ebony body toned from years of swimming. Clear from his brazen attire of black and blue swim trucks, purple water shoes, and the white towel hung around his neck. Meanwhile, he lazed around in his pajamas.

“I heard what happened…you good?”

Of course, he heard about it. Jasper must have told him. Not that he’d complain. Jasper only sought to help, and it was for the best. One less conversation he had to have.

“Not really,” he muttered and turned back to the mirror. He began untwisting his hair, but never took his eyes off Navy’s face. Poor guy looked uncomfortable. Navy never worked well with emotional situations. And Turquoise knew his emotions leaked through the whole room until it smelled of him.

“But I’ma be fine…I guess.”

“Don’t lie to me,” A scowl marred Navy’s handsome features. He stalked over to Turquoise’s desk and leaned his back against the frame. This became an interesting game of avoid the eyes. Turquoise played the game well, keeping focused on his hair and the mirror. But Navy was relentless. He stared and even glared, hoping for some reaction!

Turquoise felt bad for not giving it to him.

But he couldn’t. Not now at least. He only kept himself bust and moved onto the next twist. A hard game, but Turquoise did his best to win.

So, they stood in awkward silence for moments. Turquoise didn’t know how long it took, but he knew Miso enjoyed every second of it. The little ghost laughed long and loud before he took off. Probably to sleep or something.

“Turquoise…talk to me, please! We’re friends, right?”

Friends. Turquoise scowled and finished undoing the last twist. Friends became a lonely title when the heart yearned for more. Just a chance to be loved and supported.

Maybe he needed a redo of his first impression with himself.

“Yeah, we’re friends,” Turquoise sighed, finally meeting those drowning eyes of his. “This look good?”

Navy snorted but nodded without question. “You never looked bad,” he smiled, ignited a blush across Turquoise’s face. “Never could.”

Paxton’s first encounter might have been bad. But it never held a candle to Navy’s. That encounter was horrific.

Well, perhaps that was an exaggeration. They met in a crash and entanglement of limbs at the swimming pool. Turquoise laying on Navy’s chest as they fought to recover from the burning pain in their skulls.

And, when they finally recovered, they just…stared for a moment. Awkward as their eyes met and lips only inches apart. Turquoise remembered well the full blush spreading across his skin as he stumbled for an apology. But he didn’t need to.

Navy had already acted and sealed the deal with a kiss.

Turquoise laid there blushing, desperately trying to get his brain under control. But his emotions spiraled out of his control. Worse than a maelstrom. But better than the apocalypse.

Navy only smirked, but a blush burned against his beautiful skin now. And his cocky smirk turned dopy as he sneaked his arms around Turquoise’s hip.

“Yo,” he spoke in a smooth baritone. Though, more like a gentle wave to Turquoise’s ears. Turquoise fought to form words, but they all withered away before they reached his lips. “I’m Navy.” Even his name sent shiver down Turquoise’s spine. But a cool chill as the letters splashed against his bones and his resistance weathered down. “You gon kiss back?”

A bold man to this day.

Though he brought out only the best in Turquoise. For once, he forsaken his qualms and kissed him. One peck became two before they crashed their lips together and fought for victory. Fingers intertwined, and hips rocked against one another.

Turquoise never thought of himself as a sexual being. But with Navy, he discovered a fire inside of him. And when they stopped, the fire burned for more.

As first impressions went, he supposed to could’ve been worse. But never had he experienced such desire.

“You comin’ outta your room today?” Navy grinned, toying with his necklace. “We miss you out there, ya know.”

“I…dunno,” he frowned, ripping his eyes away. Outside seemed so dangerous. More obstacles and weapons homed on his heart. And he wasn’t certain how much more it could take. “Kinda wanna be alone.”

“Oh? So, you want me to leave?” Navy shrugged and got up. The sight made his heart burn as Navy’s eyes closed and he stretched out his arms. “Well, it’s been real, I guess. Don’t stay in here all day though. Ya need some fresh air. New perspectives and all that.”

Navy took his leave. And Turquoise watched every step. Each press against the floorboards sent a tremor through his heart. The further Navy walked, the stronger the pain. His lip quivered, and eyes prickled. But he couldn’t find the words. Or the will to beg. Just a chance to release himself this never-ending fairy tale of heartache. A new life of happiness where he stood in control and no one could harm him again.

The door creaked, and Turquoise felt his heart skip a beat. Navy looked back at him as the bright light illuminated the dark room. And he smiled. A small, peaceful smile.

But Turquoise saw the truth beneath the surface. Navy’s hurt and pain wedged deep in Turquoise’s soul and froze over into a dangerous icicle.

“Don’t forget ‘bout your friends, ‘ight?”

Friends. Something inside of Turquoise snapped and the tears fell. Twin rivers of sadness cascaded down his hazelnut skin worse than a babbling brook. For the first time in days, he cried out loud and hard. Vision blurred, and muscles trembled. He let all his emotions flow into the powerful stream.

“Navy,” he choked out from his broken and stricken voice. He looked up, but only saw a shifting silhouette before he squeezed his eyes shut. “Please, don’t go,” he sobbed. His trembling arms wrapped around himself, but he couldn’t provide the warmth he needed. “I feel so cold.”

Frostbitten from the pain gnawing at his chest. No, his heart. It bit away at his lifeline and reached for more. And Turquoise couldn’t stop it. It ignored his begging and pleading and clawed at his defenses.

This wasn’t his first impression with heartache. But everyone told him it got easier.

Yet, here he was. He pushed away his friends, family, and pokémon for what? What did he gain from forsaking his responsibilities? Nothing but this heartache.

But how could he function knowing his ex-boyfriend gave his love away to another?

…And it’d be a lie to say he didn’t do the same.

“Tur, please don’t cry.” Warm arms wrapped around him and he flinched. But the grip tightened and pulled him out his chair. He stood there in Navy’s embrace, head resting on his chest as the rivers flowed faster. Rough waters, he sighed and looked up into those soothing, deep brown eyes.

“You know I don’t know to help with that.”

His first impressions of Navy told him the story of a lustful deviant who sought only to distract Turquoise from his goals. A tough guy who cared little for others and acted only in his best interests.

And they were wrong. Had he read those deep brown eyes, he’d know the truth. The true Navy stood as a sensitive being with grand emotions like him. Emotions vaster than the oceans and a heart heightened by its crushing pressure.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Navy smiled and drew circles around Turquoise’s back. “I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

Turquoise looked up into those mesmerizing eyes the best he could. And he smiled through the tears. First impressions weren’t everything. And they would’ve made him miss out on the great person Navy was.

“Stay the night?”

#Pokemon #Pokemon Adventures #Fanfiction #LGBT #Romance #prose #Ocean Shipping #Pokemon Adventures: Oneshot Edition

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