#I KNEW THAT BLAZE KICK WOULD SCREW ME OVER SO ITS ON ME | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

doveypink · 3 years

Text

the one i left behind [technoblade imagine]

summary: you recount the moments leading up to your death. genre: angst words: 5.3k warnings: death, (past) abusive relationships, swearing, general violence a/n: i've been working on this one for a long time. i hope you all enjoy reading this as much as i did writing it!!

[ part two: come and find me ]

Freezing. I was absolutely freezing.

The brisk wind was sharp, leaving pinpricks of its icy touch upon my skin. I could have sworn there was snow, but when my eyes finally cracked open to peer around me, there was only the burning blaze of the sun and lush fields surrounding me. I turned my head to the side lazily, feeling the grass tickle my cheek. My body felt stiff and I stretched my arms out as though clasping the sky between my fingers, and my muscles loosened as I lifted myself from the ground. How long had I been laying there? Time seemed to escape me as I tried to recollect myself. I was just tired, that was all; if I went home now, I’m sure I would remember again. I would make myself a big meal, as well, something hot to melt away my chill, even though I didn’t seem to feel any ounce of hunger within me.

I walked in the direction of a place I couldn’t quite remember, attempting to turn the preceding events over in my mind. The only thing I could seem to recall was the smell of something burning, a bright flash of light, a big bang — fireworks, an image of creation and destruction all at once. It was almost as though I had never existed before this moment, lying in a bed of flowers, untouched by the calloused hands of the living.

I walked through the field, reaching out to pick a single flower from the blades of grass—a blood-red carnation—when I noticed that the shade of my skin had lost its warmth. Where it once had the flushed undertone of my blood, it was now ashen with the impression of death. I flinched, suddenly shivering as my cold bones once again made themselves known. A thought occurred to me, a memory that had slipped my mind in my haze: I only had one life left.

And I lost it.

Without thinking, my feet began to glide over the earth, kicking up dirt and pebbles as I ran. If I had lost my last life, something awful must have happened. What was it? I tried to pull the memories from the vault in my mind, but it seemed to be locked. All that was left were the shadows under the door, the footsteps in the distance, the keyhole that could only provide a glimpse into a scene.

I smelled it, then, the same scent that I recalled upon waking up, though fainter: something hot and burnt. Up ahead, there was a wisp of smoke floating above the trees, and I hurried towards them. The ground became blackened with scorch marks and, among the ruins of a building I could no longer recognize, I caught sight of blood. My heart sank, and with a start, I realized that there was a crater full of rubble and fires that had long been burning. I stepped through the debris, stumbling over broken doors, shards of glass, golden goblets and picture frames; dozens of signs of life all buried in ash and smoke, melted into a haunting image of destruction. Nothing was recognizable, but I knew what this place was: L’Manburg. Or, more accurately, what was left of it.

I searched the ruins of the country, cringing at the blood streaked debris and discarded weapons and armor that lay haphazardly among the wreckage. I circled the edge of the massive crater, unable to step much further into the space due to its depth. I looked down at the scorched land and moved out, surveying the surrounding area.

Upon noticing the remnants of a building—someone’s house, maybe? It was too far gone to make out—I felt compelled to search what was left of the structure. I wasn’t sure what drew me to suddenly climb through burnt wood and broken cobblestone; some part of me felt as though I would find an answer to all my questions, a sign, anything to point me in the right direction. I felt desperate to find something to satisfy the tug in my cold heart. My freezing hands sifted through the mess, shoving away rubble and pushing through the debris until my hands were covered in dirt and bruised from the digging. My hands suddenly found something smooth and dense, and my searching became frantic as I pushed through the ruins to find what I had been unknowingly searching for: my bow. I tugged it out from under stone and dirt, running my fingers down the edge of the smooth silver. It remained unmarked despite the destruction surrounding it, the curve of its limbs untarnished and shining brilliantly in the evening light. I searched some more and discovered the hard shell of my arrow quiver and a number of silver-tipped arrows still inside. I stood and slung the quiver over my shoulder with my bow in hand, feeling almost complete with the items on my person.

The wind picked up and blew through my hair, insisting that I look further. I stepped into the wreckage of the building, an unsettled feeling rising in the pit of my stomach. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of red against pale grey stone; I turned, staring at the scene before me with wide, horrified eyes.

A short distance from where my bow was found, there was a violent splatter of crimson against the rubble. It looked like a balloon full of paint had popped, streaking the cold stones with a sickeningly bright shade of red. Among the drying mess, there was a flurry of scorch marks strewn across the area, a minor crater digging into the earth where the scene lay. I realized what this all was, my hands trembling as I clutched my bow.

I had died here.

I screwed my eyes shut, plagued with a sudden onslaught of memories that I no longer wished for. Falling to my knees, I held my head in my hands and shook violently, my head pounding with a torrential rain of scenes flashing in my mind. All I could do was be swept away in the flood.

* * * * *

“Are you still mad at me?”

I blinked at Techno with an arrow in hand, sharpening its tip and inspecting the edge. I was mad at him, but I didn’t feel like giving him an answer. If he had to ask, he already knew; we were both smart enough to understand each other like that. He sighed when I wordlessly turned my gaze back to my arrow, stepping towards me and plucking it from my grasp. I jumped up, prepared to steal it back. “Hey—!”

“You know why I had to do this. Don’t get mad at me,” Techno said, his voice low and serious.

I crossed my arms and frowned. “Right. You have to team with Dream just to blow up a country. You definitely couldn’t have done it on your own or, I don’t know, with me to help, yeah? Because the great Technoblade is always right—”

“We have common interests—”

“And I hate being interrupted.”

Techno went silent after I snapped at him, adjusting his cape while I gritted my teeth. “I thought you hated him,” I said slowly, “and I hated him too. You know what he did, you know how it hurt me, and you still…” I trailed off, feeling suddenly exhausted—exhausted from fighting, exhausted from chasing a peace I could never have.

Techno placed a gentle hand on my shoulder—a gesture he rarely used, and reserved for me—and met my eyes. “Just this once,” he said. “I still owe him a debt, but this will be the end. It’s within our reach.”

“I could die,” I said plainly. This made Techno pause, his entire body freezing over like a lake in winter, so I pushed further. “I could die. I could lose my last life, and I gladly will for what we’re doing, because I believe in this. I know we haven’t always been right, but I know that this is. I hate that you let Dream in, and I’m going to be angry. I deserve to be angry.”

“You’re not going to die,” he said with certainty. “Not when I’m there.”

I couldn’t tell if Techno was trying to reassure me or himself with his words, but either way, the weight of the possibilities made my stomach turn with anxiety. “You can’t be so sure. I’m not exactly as talented as you are at everything,” I countered.

“Don’t say that,” Techno insisted, his tone full of frustrated reassurement. “I won’t ever let anything bad happen to you. Never again. And hey,” he started, poking my cheek, “you’re more than capable of handling yourself, anyway. You couldn’t die even if you wanted to.”

“I think you have too much confidence in me, Techno.”

“Cut that sentence 3 words short and I’ll consider agreeing with you.”

I sighed, finally letting myself crack a small smile. “I’m still mad at you, but I trust you. Only out of pity though—I know you couldn’t last a day without me around.”

Techno grinned, his sharp-toothed grin melting the ice as he returned my arrow. “Good thing it’ll never come to that.”

I shook my head, twirling the arrow in my hand while I inspected it silently. Techno turned away to prepare his own weapons, leaving me alone with the aftermath of our conversation.

My anger had been redirected with my friend’s words of reassurance, now colliding with my resentment for Dream. Even though I did have faith in Techno, I still feared the possibility of Dream playing a trick on us. I sharpened my arrow and considered my choices: I follow Techno’s lead and go along with Dream’s help, or I take matters into my own hands. I finished up with my arrows, placing them neatly into my quiver as I prayed that the latter wouldn’t have to occur.

I already knew well enough that war was brutal.

With a deep, tired sigh, I leaned back and recalled a time not so long ago—just a few years at most—when I wasn’t resentful of Dream. We were friends, once, and I’ll admit that I admired him; I bitterly wondered what would have happened if I had ever found the courage to tell him just how much I adored him, but the thought made some long forgotten part of me ache, prickling my heart with thorns. It was shameful of me to wonder what could have been, even more so to speak it; there was a reason why only Techno knew, and there was a reason why his decision made my blood bubble over in frustration and betrayal.

I considered the moment I caught Dream shifting, edging away from his former self as his own hubris overtook him, rotting his soul as something else took form. He had always treated me as an equal, and he charmed me with his kind words and gentle gaze. I couldn’t begin to understand how suddenly he was so cruel to me, taking me by surprise when his usual soft tone became sharp and grating, tearing me apart from the inside out. I had only ever been supportive of him, even when he did things I couldn’t agree with; even when his friends turned their backs on him; even when I found myself seeking his approval at every turn despite his cruelty. Nothing I did could ever seem to be enough.

The first time I was separated from Dream was after Techno captured me, initially planning to use me as leverage against his rival to put an end to the government. After finding me, though, he must have seen what I couldn’t: the hollowness that Dream had left behind. The anarchist took pity on me, if you could even call it that; mostly, Techno shook me awake from the nightmare I had been living and made me realize the extent of Dream’s manipulation. I felt dirty for a long while after my realization, plagued with the sense that I would never feel safe or whole again. A part of me still felt that way, even, but at least I had the sense now to not seek out the shadows when they beckoned me over.

Technoblade was a surprisingly good friend through it all. It was him who helped me become myself again, but he would always argue that it was my own doing. He frustrated me sometimes with his monotonous tone and his thirst for anarchy, but at the end of the day, I could never stay mad at him; Techno had a good heart, and his honesty and dedication to his morals was enough to convince me. Even through my fog of anger at his teaming with Dream, even when I questioned whether this was a good idea, a sensible part of me knew that this was nothing like what Dream had done to me. Techno didn’t hide his nature as Dream did, and I could trust him in that.

A knock on the cabin door brought me out of my thoughts. I heard Techno’s footsteps as he stepped back into the room, a knife in hand. “Do you know who it is?” he questioned, scrutinizing the door when I shook my head in response. I stood from my chair and followed behind Techno, who peeked out the window and let out a tired sigh before swinging the door open.

“Hello, Dream. What are you doing at my house?” my friend deadpanned.

Dream lowered his grinning mask, his own lips drawn back into a polite smile. “Oh, just checking in before tomorrow. I wanted to see if you needed anything.”

“You could have sent a message first,” Techno replied, tapping the messenger device on his wrist. “I don’t really appreciate unwanted guests.”

“I figured it wouldn’t be much of a problem since we’re on the same side now. And I tend to find surprise visits are a lot more… Insightful,” Dream mused. His eyes peeked over Techno’s shoulder to meet mine and I stiffened, standing straighter. Dream, perceptive as usual, smiled wider, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners before he spoke to me in a soft voice. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

A cold hand gripped my heart, the blood pulsing in my ear drums. I hated him; I hated that he hardly had to speak for me to begin to crumble. I attempted to reply in a steady voice despite the slight tremor that shook me. “Yeah, it has.”

Before Dream could say anything else, Techno stepped up as though to shield me. “You know, we have everything we need here. You should probably make sure your things are sorted, though,” he announced.

Dream’s smile faltered for half a second before returning. “Hm, I think you’re right. Just remember to give me the signal,” he said, beginning to turn away from the door. Dream hesitated, giving me one last look before he addressed me, his words kind, though laced with a cold, haunting tone. “I’ve missed you. Good luck tomorrow.”

It wasn’t until Techno had shut the door and confirmed that Dream had left that I allowed myself to breathe. I hadn’t even realized that I was holding my breath in the first place; I felt lightheaded and weary as Techno sat me down and asked if I was alright. I nodded, watching the worried man cross the room to fetch me a glass of water. With a shudder, I took in the sight of the floorboards and listened to my friend rummaging around the kitchen. My stomach churned and my mind flashed with sudden clarity about what I would have to do.

I was going to kill Dream.

The following day felt like a blur. Every motion leading up to the total destruction of L’Manburg was like a sharp jab of a paintbrush, a swipe across a canvas already drenched in paint. There was a picture here, some greater meaning when you stepped away from it all, but in the midst of things, it didn’t quite matter. All Techno cared about was erasing the country for good and keeping us alive; all I wanted was to get the day over with.

I had spent the entire night trying to decide whether it was truly a good idea for me to go after Dream or leave him be. A part of me felt that it was a terrible idea, a decision that would only serve to lead me to certain death; still, another part of me wanted closure. I didn’t think of myself as anything special compared to Techno, Phil, or even Dream himself when it came to combat skills, but the truth was that I was more than capable of holding my own in battle. I had been through my fair share of wars, and the experience in addition to training with Techno led me to become a skilled warrior of my own. As I considered it, I found myself realizing with a newfound confidence that I had the strength to take down Dream all on my own if I wanted to. My only question was how I would go about this.

The answer came surprisingly soon.

Techno and I had been doing well against L’Manburg’s defense—there was only a scare when Sapnap came close to taking one of Techno’s lives during a fight, but I had stepped in with a nicely timed arrow to his head, which made our enemy disappear into a cloud of smoke as his life was lost. Techno and I chugged some invisibility potion, courtesy of Phil, and hid around a building to watch everyone fight off the withers while we healed ourselves.

“What’s taking him so long? We’ve been at it for—” Techno glanced at his watch, “—thirty minutes! And here I thought Dream was all about punctuality,” my friend griped, taking a bite out of an apple.

“I’m not surprised. Of course he would choose today to take his sweet time,” I assessed, thumping my head against the brick building. “He’s probably going over his plans to sacrifice us next as we speak.”

“We are not getting sacrificed.”

“You never know,” I hummed. “It’s not a bad thing to be cautious, is it?”

Techno snorted. “Well, I suppose not. We’ve survived this long, though, so I have a good feeling about this.”

I nodded, peering in the direction of my friend. We couldn’t see each other due to the potion, but if I focused hard enough, I could catch a shift in the light that alerted me of his position. I felt a sudden urgency within me—some calling to spill my fears, inky and black, before I choked. “I need you to do me a favor,” I blurted.

I watched the light shift and turn. “What? What’s going on?” Techno wondered.

“If something happens to me, if I lose my last life,” I began in a serious tone, “don’t look back.”

“I… don’t understand. What are you saying? You won’t—”

“Techno, if I die, you carry straight through with the plan. Don’t come for my things, don’t try to help me, just go. Please. Can you promise me that?”

The light shimmered slowly, hesitantly. “Of course you choose now to drop that on me,” Techno muttered bitterly, but I could hear the underlying hurt. “I can never say no to you, though, can I?”

“It is your best trait,” I joked, though there was a heaviness in my voice.

The shift in the light leaned back as Techno sighed. “Alright, fine. It won’t come to that, but I’ll do it. I promise.”

“Thank you. For everything,” I confessed, stressing the importance of all that he’s done for me in my reply.

Before Techno could reply, a resounding boom went off nearby. Dirt and debris flew past us as plumes of gray smoke shrouded our sight. Between the clouds of smoke, I could see a flash of bright green and a bone-white mask.

“He’s here,” Techno mumbled next to me. “Let’s get moving.”

The pair of us sprinted across the land, dodging at the sight of explosives and attacking enemies under the guise of our invisibility. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Dream dropping TNT from the tops of buildings and hurling them at every patch of land in his vicinity. By the time he was finished, I knew there would be nothing left.

The invisibility began to wear off shortly after that, and I watched as Techno’s vibrant red cape began to fade back into view. I followed my friend from a short distance until I realized that Dream was completely distracted in his efforts to destroy the nation. As Techno veered down one path, I caught him by the arm. “I’m heading the other way,” I said.

Techno immediately began to protest. “No, you’re not. Don’t be stupid.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You were the one worried about losing your last life, and now you’re trying to split? We have to stick together.”

“I’ll be quick. You won’t even know I’m gone,” I reasoned, already turning to leave. “I promise I’ll be back.”

Techno frowned, but eventually his shoulders became less tense as he reluctantly decided to let me go. I gave him a nod of thanks before hurrying off to a building that hadn’t yet been destroyed. Fortunately for me, the citizens seemed to have cleared out, so no one was there to intervene as I leapt over crumbling buildings and the charred remains of the nation. My heart raced in my chest and I clutched my bow tightly in my hand. It would all be over soon enough, I thought, and I would be the one to end it all.

I reached a building that hadn’t been completely damaged from the TNT and scaled the wall. My fingers were wedged into the grooves of the brick until I reached the ledge at the very top, tugging myself up and throwing my legs over the side. I huffed and looked up to watch Dream, practically gliding on air as he hurled explosives at the ground without remorse. I squinted and realized through the haze of smoke and ash that he had nearly hit bedrock, yet he continued to demolish the same area of land. It was like he wanted to blow a hole straight through the ground, so deep that he’d be able to see the other side.

I shook away the nervous shudder that ran down my spine and instead raised my bow to aim while Dream was distracted. I glared at the back of his head and lined my sight to him, the familiarity of the motion sending a sort of ease through my tense muscles.

It was an easy shot. I could do it.

I drew a deep breath and held it while I drew my arrow back, pulling the string taut. With a slow sigh, I released.

My arrow soared above the destruction, seeming to transcend the rules of time and space. The light made the metallic edge glimmer as though a star was shooting across the expanse of land, bright and beautiful and destructive all at once.

Dream was still turned away as the arrow launched towards him, and for a moment I felt sure that I had succeeded in my efforts. Right before the arrow was able to lodge itself in his head, though, Dream ducked, and the arrow flew past his head. He rose again to stand straight and turned slowly to face me, the blank eyed smile on his mask mocking me. My blood turned to ice in my veins and I frantically drew another arrow to fire, this time pointed at his heart.

Before I could release the arrow, Dream held up a stick of dynamite and pelted it right next to the building I stood on. It was close enough that I took damage and fell back as the earth shook around me. My head smacked against the roof and I groaned at the dizzy shock that sparked against my skull. I lay there, my head pounding, focused on the rumble that rattled my bones as I tried to regain my bearings.

By the time I had struggled onto my knees, Dream was hovering over me. I glared up at him for one silent moment before snatching my bow and striking his mask, which cracked and shattered to the ground. He stumbled back and I took my chance to load an arrow, but my head was still pounding, my coordination thrown off by the blow I had taken. Dream took advantage of my weakness and kicked the bow out of my hands, where it skidded across the roof and over the edge. I had made a feeble attempt to catch it before it tipped over, but I was too late.

Dream caught a fistful of my hair, yanking me backwards, and I growled, an animalistic sound that scratched my throat as I dragged my feet and struggled in his grasp. I kicked up dirt and clawed at the pale hands that trapped me, yelping when my captor shoved me to my knees. I must have looked ridiculous, like a child throwing a tantrum, as I thrashed and screamed to try and get away. “This is what happens to anyone who doesn’t follow my orders. You really thought you were smart enough to turn on me?” Dream laughed darkly, tightening his grip even as I scratched streaks of red into his skin. “You’re pathetic. I almost feel bad for you.”

“Fuck you,” I spat, attempting to jerk away, but Dream’s grip was unbreakable.

“I hope you’re not this rude to Technoblade. Where is he, by the way?” I struggled while Dream called out for my friend, who I watched sprint towards us between exploding buildings and smoke.

“Dream, what is this?” Techno heaved, meeting us on the building.

The man in question nodded his head towards me, a warrior bloodied and brought to my knees. “I think it’s about time I used that favor,” he said coldly.

My heart sank to the pit of my stomach, and I felt my body begin to numb with fear. If I wasn’t sure of it before, I was now; this was the end for me.

It was almost laughable, the irony of this situation; the promises to keep each other safe that I had made with my best friend—the only friend I had left—were tearing apart at the seams.

“Maybe you should rethink this before you do something you’ll regret, Dream,” Techno threatened.

“Oh, I won’t be regretting anything. But you might.” Dream gestured with his free hand towards the bundle of fireworks in Techno’s hand. “Kill them.”

The situation was eerily similar to another from so long ago in this very nation—when Techno was ordered by Schlatt to kill Tubbo. I could see the realization in his eyes, the acknowledgment of the parallels, the regret and anger and so much fear. I had never seen him so scared, but he remained stubborn. “I won’t do that,” he replied.

Dream’s grip tightened as he jerked my head forward for emphasis. “Listen, Technoblade, you’re going to kill your little friend here because you owe it to me. If you choose not to, I’ll just take them for myself so I can do it instead. You probably wouldn’t want that, though—I won’t be so kind. Oh, and don’t even think about trying to kill me instead. One of you was already stupid enough to try.”

“This isn’t what I meant when I said I’d do you a favor.”

“Isn’t it, though? Look around, Techno. The only reason this is happening right now is because Tommy betrayed you. He could have chosen you, he could have stayed on your side, but he didn’t. This is the consequence, right? And this—,” I yelped as Dream snatched me and held me up as evidence, “—is what happens when I’m betrayed. You all agreed to help me, and now my trust is broken. So pick up a fucking weapon and do me a favor.”

My friend stood frozen as he tried to calculate some way out of this, but I knew I had ruined any chances of a better life for us. It was my actions that were about to get me killed, by the only person who ever truly loved me, nonetheless.

“Do it,” I told Techno. “Please, just get it over with.”

Technoblade looked down at me, his eyes full of hurt as his brows furrowed. “No. You’re crazy, why would I do that? I made you a promise—”

“So did I. But there’s nothing else to do. I fucked it up, so I’m asking you to do this. Not for him, for me,” I pleaded, painfully aware of the grip Dream had on my hair. “I’d rather it be you. No one but you.”

I watched as Techno’s face contorted into a woeful expression. The guilt was bubbling over in the pit of my stomach, an all-consuming feeling that made me sick with sorrow for what I was asking him to do. We were one and the same, him and I, a pair of lonely people made better with the other around. I would miss him and, even if he never chose to admit it, I knew he would miss me too. I could only hope that my absence wouldn’t destroy him.

Slowly, Techno raised the firework launcher as he pointed it at my head. “You know, I always had a soft spot for you.”

My smile was regretful and watery; I prayed that he could hear my apologies without having to speak them out loud. I prayed even more that he could hear my unspoken words of gratitude, the unfinished symphony that was our friendship. “You’re the only person who ever knew me.”

Behind me, Dream groaned in annoyance. “Shut up with the monologues and get it over with,” he griped. With a harsh shove, the tip of the fireworks were pressed against my forehead. I bit my tongue, the metallic taste of blood in my mouth as I tried not to seem too meager in my final moments. Dream dropped me to my knees as he escaped the line of fire, now peering over Techno’s shoulder in waiting. I watched my friend’s hands shake, the light tremble of his finger as it hovered over the trigger. I wanted to give him some sort of reassurance, but how could I? How do you ease the heart of someone forced to kill their friend?

With a shaky, mournful sigh, Techno looked down on me, his knuckles white as he gripped the weapon. “I’m sorry,” he said.

I squeezed my eyes shut with tears running hot over my cheeks, trying to recall a better picture in my mind. I thought of when I first met Techno, brainwashed and broken, a person slowly made whole again. I thought of the softness in his eyes even as he yelled at me over some mistake I had made. I thought of the nights he spent hunched over his desk writing about anything until I threw a blanket at him and dragged him into his bed. I thought of the mornings we would wake up early on a day of traveling just to catch the sunrise. I could have seen it a thousand times, and still, nothing would have ever compared to him; no amount of wealth or glory could even come close to making me feel as elated as he did. Techno was, without a doubt in my mind, my soulmate. The universe decided that for us; the sun and the moon and every star in the sky chose to bind us together, and what reason did I have to refuse it?

My heart ached, jumping as the click of the trigger sounded. There was a bright flash, a pop, an explosion of color and sound—

Then nothing at all.

528 notes · View notes

sleepy--anon · 3 years

Text

theraspberryler's mcyt tickle fic exchange

I got @ghostleetickles I hope you like it :D

Prompt I chose: https://youtu.be/_Uzmyx7XS9s - video it’s referring to. DREAM AND SAPNAP TURN ON THE PLUG-IN AND THEY ARE DOING A BUNCH OF THINGS LIKE HITTING STUFF, FALLING AND OVER ALL BEING STUPID JUST TO TEST IT OUT. (Let’s say it’s more then just damage, they can feel every touch as well) AND THEY START THE GAME AND WHEN THEY GO INTO THE NETHER THEY ENCOUNTER WITHER SKELLIE BOIS AND (running with my past HCs abt wither skellies tickling players) Sapnap gets caught by one and Dream is rushing to help him and the skeleton starts tickling Sapnap and he watches Dream also just completely collapse on the floor into a fit of giggles. Sapnap then realizes that tickling also transfers to the other player and now they are both just stuck like that until the skeleton has had enough.

"Ready Sap?" Dream’s voice immediately caught Sapnap's attention as he nodded excitedly.

"Ok, let's test is before we make it a video, we beat the whole game today ok?"

"Yeah yeah sure whatever."

"Sapnap."

"I heard you bro, we got this, we have a little time to mess around first." A few clicks later and Dream announces that the mod is active and asks him to try it. Sapnap instantly pulls some dirt blocks out of his inventory and builds up four before jumping to the ground, wincing and the pain that shot through his legs.

"Ahh! Fuck! OK it works." Dream gasps for air, the shock of how bad it hurt knocked the wind out of him. He rubs his legs even though the pain wasn't actually his.

"Walk it off you big green baby, let's beat the game." Dream lightheartedly glared at his best friend before shoving a handful of sand down his shirt. Dream's back suddenly arched at what felt like something itchy running down his back.

"What are you doing Dream?" Sapnap asked confused as he shakes the sand out of his shirt.

"Huh, I guess I can feel everything you feel. I felt the sand as well." Sapnap, out of curiosity, roughly poked Dream’s shoulder blade. His shoulder reflexively jolting forward as he felt the jab on himself.

"Well this should be interesting." After lots of pain, dying, and yelling later, they finally found the nether fortress. They has both set their spawn point on the bed next to the portal.

"Be careful and don't wonder to far away from me."

"Yes mom~"

"I'm serious Sapnap, we need to be able to save each other because if one becomes incapacitated so does the other, so stay close." Sapnap wouldn’t be lying if he said he was a little annoyed at how careful Dream was making him be but he was about to find out why.

"God, where are all the blaze spawners?" Dream turns around, ready to lecture Sapnap about being patient when he notices a wither skeleton sneaking up on him.

"SAPNAP!" Before he could react he felt two skinny arms around his waist, lifting him off the ground. When he looked down and saw that the arms were black, panic began to set in and started to thrash, kick and scream.

"DREAM HELP!" He could see Dream pull out his sword and make a run for them, he knew he didn't use his bow in fear of hitting him by accident. The wither skeleton back up a few steps before wiggling its boney fingers into his sides.

"Whahahat thehe hehehehell?!" Sapnap instantly burst into giggles, his legs instinctively stopped kicking and came up to his chest. He watched as Dream’s eyes widened in shock and confusion before his sword clattered to the ground. His arms wrapped around his middle as he collapsed to his knees, giggling hysterically. Sapnap began to worry, Dream was twice if not three times more ticklish than he was, he knew he was screwed, there was no way Dream would be able to fight the sensations long enough to save him. They were stuck.

"Whyhyhy ihihihihihis ihihit dohohohoing thahahat?!" Dream’s giggles were becoming increasingly more frantic, the longer the sensation lasted. Both boy's giggles turned to gentle laughter when the fingers moved up to Sapnap’s ribs. Dream’s arms pressed tighter to his body, trying to lesson the feeling.

"Ihihi Dohohohon’t knohohow!" He noticed Dream becoming more panicked when he realized the skeleton was slowly approaching one of his bad spots. He tried his best to push the hands down and away from the upper ribs but it pushed past his defenses with ease and quickly vibrated its thin fingers into both sides of his highest ribs. Sapnap's laughter was still slightly calm yet high pitched and full of squeaks and little yelps, whereas Dream was now rolling on the floor cackling. His feet kicked helplessly as he slapped the floor with his hands.

"SAHAHAHAHAPNAHAHAHAP! DOHOHOHO SOHOHOHOMETHIHIHING!"

"IHihihi'm tryihihng!" He wasn’t lying, he has been trying to push and pry the skeleton's hands off him since the beginning, but it was way to strong for him. Sapnap began to thrash when it moved one hand to rapidly squeeze at his thigh, a death spot shared by Dream and Sapnap. Both their loud cackles echoed through the fortress.

"MAHAHAHAKE IHIHIHIHIT STOHOHOHOP!"

"IHIHIHIHI CAHAHAN’T!" The skeleton decides to add Sapnap's second death spot to make it fair and lightly nibble at his neck. Sapnap shrieks at the top of his lungs but he can't thrash anymore, neither can Dream, both were so tired that all they could do was sit there and take it. Their cackles turned wheezy and silent at parts when suddenly Sapnap was dropped to the floor. Both males immediately gasped for air as the wither skeleton wandered away. Sapnap slowly crawled over to Dream and touched his shoulder but pulled away when he flinches.

"Its just me, let's get out of here and sleep, I don't wanna risk either of us getting a round two." Dream nodded, barely able to speak, he let Sapnap sling his arm over his shoulder and haul him up, practically dragging him back through the nether portal to his bed. The two passed out almost immediately, thinking about how they have to get blaze rods and avoid getting absolutely wrecked at the same time.

#mcyt tickle fic exchange #mcyt tickle #dsmp tickle #lee!dream #lee!sapnap #sleepy's fics #ler!wither skeleton?

80 notes · View notes

starfinss · 3 years

Text

Facing Fears — Kuroo Tetsurou

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Summary: You’re afraid of heights. Kuroo tries to help you face your fears. Knowing Kuroo, shenanigans are bound to happen.

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

Rating: Fluff (SFW)

Word Count: 1,758

Also titled: A fic about being afraid of heights written by a girl who is not afraid of heights.

You were afraid of heights. Terrified, really.

Usually, this was pretty easy to remedy, just as long as you stayed on the ground where you had no danger of falling. But once Kuroo found out through Kenma about your fear, he insisted on being the one to cure your phobia.

Exposure therapy, he said it would be, and he told you it would be just the two of you.

If it were anyone else, you would have refused. But you sure as hell knew you wouldn’t be able to resist that goofy, sleepy grin he gave you when he was particularly pleased about something, and you couldn’t ignore the way your heartbeat spiked whenever he was near.

In short, you were screwed.

Kuroo dragged you to an amusement park, dropping by your house earlier than you thought possible for him, barely giving you time to shower and get dressed before he pulled you out the door, grabbing a breakfast of crepes with strawberries when you arrived at the park.

Everything looked terrifying. You knew the tallest rides didn’t really go up into the clouds, but just looking at them made you feel like your head was spinning. You gave Kuroo a fearful look, but he just gave you one of those sleepy, Cheshire grins, and you sighed. There was no way he was backing down. That wasn’t how he did things. You took a bite of your crepe, hoping to god that it would stay in your stomach.

After you finished eating, you started small.

This included tea cup rides, some carnival games, which you sucked at, but Kuroo didn’t seem to mind. Then, things started going beyond your comfort zone. It started with a roller coaster probably meant for kids, a ride that spun you around very fast, and finally, something even worse. At this rate, you really were going to be sick.

“I don’t know about this, Kuroo,” you said as the bars lowered on your seat, sealing your fate of a speedy death on the Scarlet Bullet roller coaster, and you wracked your brain for how Kuroo had convinced you to do this.

Kuroo chuckled, shooting you a wicked grin. “You’ll forget all about your fear as soon as this kicks off.”

His smile made your cheeks warm. That was how he’d convinced you. You swallowed thickly, wrapping your hands around the safety bars at your shoulders, your knuckles turning white. “I seriously doubt that.”

Kuroo reached over, a large hand patting you on the shoulder.

“Hey. If you get too scared, close your eyes. I’ll tell you when it’s over.”

That made you feel a little better. You finally offered Kuroo a smile. “Okay.”

That being said, you wanted to keep your eyes open. You were here to face your fears, and even if you were utterly terrified, you at least wanted to try. This ride was safe and you knew that, but the fearful part of your brain was screaming bloody murder for you to get off right that second and stay firmly on the ground where you didn’t have any danger of falling to your death.

But no. You were doing this, caution and rationality be damned.

The attendant began his spiel, and you took a deep yoga breath, trying (and failing) to calm your nerves. You glanced around at the coaster, at the looping, soaring track, and you felt the blood drain from your face. There were tunnels and loops and turns and decorations that made the track look like it was blazing with fire. Your head fell back against your headrest, and you closed your eyes, your fingers tightening around the safety bars.

“Hey,” Kuroo said, “we can get off if you’re really too scared. Let me just—”

“No,” you said, “nope, no we’re good. I can do this.”

Kuroo looked dubious, but he shrugged. “If you say so, (Y/N).”

You pushed your anxiety back when the ride began to move, zooming forward only to slow to a crawl as it began its climb up the steep slope to prepare for the drop to kick off the ride. You felt your lungs tighten as you looked up at the peak, so far above.

I’m safe. Kuroo is here. I’m not in any danger.

You continued this mantra, which you eventually began muttering under your breath, prompting Kuroo to look at you, concerned and lightly alarmed. Your vision was getting shaky as you climbed higher, and the ground looked so far away. You opened your mouth to scream, but Kuroo’s hand on your shoulder distracted you.

“Don’t look down,” he said, “look at me.”

You blinked, taking a few deep breaths to regain your composure. “Okay.”

You leaned back in your seat, pushing away your restless nerves. You were just fine.

At least that was what you thought. Until the rollercoaster reached its peak, pausing for just a few seconds, and you took in just how high up you were. You were seeing doubles of the track, and your eyes went to the size of dinner plates, complete and utter terror building up in your chest, expelling itself in a shrill scream when the ride was suddenly catapulting down the track at breakneck speed.

You were racing towards the ground, and your shrieking continued, coupled with Kuroo’s joyful shouts beside you as he held his arms up. You wished you could just enjoy the experience, but you felt very much like you were in mortal danger, even as the coaster jerked up at the last second, climbing another slope at supersonic speed and rocketing into a hairpin turn.

You absently grabbed for Kuroo’s hand, and he gave your fingers a squeeze, his laugh almost contagious as your grip tightened. You didn’t want to close your eyes, even as the ride climbed another drop. But...

Oh.

This isn’t so bad.

You were strapped in and safe, and Kuroo’s hand was acting as an anchor to keep you grounded. You weren’t going to be injured. This was actually kind of fun. Your terrified shrieks turned to excited shouts as the coaster shot along the track, through the loops and tunnels and sheer drops, blowing your hair out behind your head. Heights weren’t so bad, as long as you were somewhere safe. Not that you weren’t still scared, you definitely were. But you were beginning to see the thrilling appeal.

The ride came to a stop abruptly, the hiss of the mechanical motor filling your ears as the rollercoaster slid into the boarding area again. You were panting heavily, hand still clasped with Kuroo’s, and when you looked at him, his hair looked even messier than usual. You were sure yours was no different.

“So,” Kuroo said, his calm, drawling voice not matching his disheveled appearance, “what did you think?”

You let your fingers slip from his as the safety bars rose above your heads, allowing you to get off. You stood with shaking legs, grabbing your bag from the zip-up mesh pouch in front of your knees, slinging the strap over your shoulder.

“Terrifying,” you said, “but... I didn’t hate it.”

Kuroo grinned. “So you’re not scared of heights anymore?”

You chuckled. “Oh, no, I definitely am. But not as bad as before.”

“Well, hey,” Kuroo said, offering you a hand to help you out of the ride, and you accepted, “that’s something, right?”

A laugh bubbled from your chest as you followed him down the ramp and back into the park. “Yeah, it is, I guess.”

You noticed he hadn’t let go of your hand, but you didn’t pull away. You instead laced your fingers together with his, and you walked hand in hand to the next ride.

After walking a little ways away, Kuroo stopped, turning to face you. You looked at him quizzically. His Cheshire grin was a bit more mischievous than usual, and you canted your head as you studied his face.

“Now,” he said, “for being a total badass, here’s your reward.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Badass? I screamed the entire time. I was hardly—”

Kuroo cut you off by cupping your face in his hand, moving up so you were forced to stand on your tiptoes, and guiding your lips to his.

For a moment, you were frozen in shock, but that lasted only a few seconds before you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back. You vaguely registered him putting his fist in the air in a gesture of triumph, making you smile against his mouth. The kiss was gentle and soft, and you didn’t want to pull away, but when you did, he spun you around in his arms before setting you down and joining your hands together again.

“Hell of a reward,” you said, lightly breathless, and Kuroo laughed, giving you a lopsided grin, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“There’s more where that came from.”

Your cheeks turned violently red at his implication, making him laugh again, swinging your hands between you as you walked.

“So,” you said, after regaining your composure, “is this a date now?”

Kuroo smiled at you. “If that’s what you want.”

You moved closer to his side, your free hand wrapping around his arm.

“I do.”

“Excellent,” he said, that gleam returning to his eyes, “now, wanna try the Sky Shot?”

You gave Kuroo a dirty look after following his gaze to the towering structure in question, but you sighed.

“You better give me two kisses if you wanna go on that.”

Kuroo pretended to consider this. “You drive a hard bargain, (Y/N), but for you, I think I can manage.”

You snickered. “You better, captain. I deserve compensation for all the stress you’re putting me through.”

Honestly, you were just looking for an excuse to kiss him again, but it wasn’t like Kuroo was complaining. It was all worth it when he gave you a searing kiss after reaching the ground on your next ride, and they only increased in number as the day went on, your fingers remaining laced together as you walked from ride to ride.

“Hey, buddy!” A game attendant called, “win a prize for your girlfriend?”

Kuroo sent you another grin, making you blush, but you grinned back. “He will!” You called back.

You went home with a massive stuffed penguin and a new boyfriend that night, and one hell of a story to tell. And when Kuroo kissed you goodnight on your doorstep, it was all more that worth it.

You should tell Kenma about your fears more often.

119 notes · View notes

harrysweasleys · 4 years

Text

a lesson in chemistry // r.l

summary: hey! i was wondering if you could do one where the reader does really bad in a test and remus comforts her? thank u!!

warnings: none

word count: 2.6k

a/n: i am close to 1k and was thinking of doing an event but i know i’m gonna forget and it’s just not going to go well so i just wanna say THANK YOU to all you sweet sweet beings for following my mess of a blog! :)

——

Moonstone. Powdered porcupine quills. Powdered unicorn horn.

The three ingredients repeated themselves over and over in your head as you sat by yourself in the common room nearing two o’clock in the morning, the messy notebook spread open in front of you as your eyes tried to droop shut.

It was nearly impossible for you to focus on the fuzzy words, but you forced yourself to stay as awake as you possibly could so that tomorrow’s quiz would be a breeze. That’s why you were studying, wasn’t it?

Remus and Sirius had promised to help you out, but the two had trudged off to bed nearly an hour ago, practically already asleep. For two people who seemed so adamant on ‘all nighters’ they had gone to bed rather early, in your opinion. You quite missed their company — Remus more than Sirius — and wished you could at least have someone here to help keep your mind sharp.

But, here you were, all by your lonesome and wrapped in a scarlet and gold knitted blanket that your parents had made you, the crackling fireplace heating you up, and the words in front of you making you sleepy.

You couldn’t comprehend why no one else seemed stressed or even worked up about this quiz — exam, actually — which made studying it just that much more frustrating. You figured people would care about their marks and scores, right?

“The potion should result in a cool blue colour,” you mumbled to no one in particular, the words trying their best to etch into your brain, “A cool blue colour. Not to be mistaken with Draught of Peace which is a warm blue colour.”

You let out a quiet groan and rested your head against the back of the couch cushion. Potions class was never your strong suit, but you had found it fascinating. And, of course, hou didn’t want to seem like you were lost, so studying hours on end seemed to be the only passing solution here.

The large ticking clock on the wall told you it was five minutes past two o’clock, and the exam was at ten o’clock the next day. Only eight hours left for you to memorize every last word.

Eight hours.

As you glanced back down at the book, your eyes felt heavier than they were not a minute ago, and your head felt as if it were on a cloud. The room around you seemed to vanish down a long, long tunnel...

——

“D’you think if we poke her she’ll jump?”

“Sirius, that’s just rude.”

“C’mon, it’d be funny though. What if we poured pumpkin juice on her?”

“No, let’s just calmly wake her up.”

“You’re boring, Remus.”

Your eyes fluttered open to two overly familiar faces crouched in front of you. Remus, his hair messy and his eyes watching you cautiously, and Sirius with his signature smirk.

“Get out of my face,” you sat up, throwing the blanket off of and trying to figure out where you were. The Gryffindor common room felt very different when you were waking up in it.

The fire embers were burning low and the morning sunlight blazed through the windows, the room brighter than it had ever seemed before. The blanket was still comfortable draped over your body, warm and comforting, and the heavy textbook was still open on your lap with the page slightly crumpled as your hand rested upon it.

Suddenly, as if hit by a train once you noticed the book, you remembered, “Bloody hell, it’s the Potions quiz today.”

Remus chuckled, “Relax. It’s in, like, an hour.”

You threw the blanket off of your body and grabbed the book, shaking your head, “You don’t get it, Remus. I don’t know anything.”

“That can’t be true,” Remus furrowed his eyebrows at you.

Sirius pat you on the shoulder, sitting next to you on the couch and closing the book with a loud thump, “You’ll be fine. You just need to eat.”

So you let the two boys lead you down to the Great Hall, where the loud hustle and bustle of the early morning made it nearly impossible to focus on the jumble of words on the worn out pages in front of you. The book, although informative, was clearly written for someone who actually understood what the hell everything meant. And it was harder to understand anything when the ruckus around you made it difficult to even read said things.

It bothered you greatly that Remus — the person you considered your best friend — didn’t seem to care about the exam. Were you overreacting?

It wasn’t your fault, really. You took schoolwork very seriously and sometimes that meant overreacting. Over-studying. Over-planning. All of the above.

But, better to be safe than sorry — isn’t that the saying?

When the Great Hall crowd became dispersed, you knew that meant classes were beginning and you felt your nerves kick in at the thought. You shut the book rather loudly and followed Remus to the Potions classroom, no words being exchanged between the two of you — which you were thankful for, to be honest.

“You got this,” Remus flashed you a grin as you slowly walked into the class together, taking your usual seats in the middle. You didn’t like being too close, nor too far from the teacher. These seats were perfect.

“I don’t need false hope,” you groaned, resting your head on the table, “I need answers.”

He chuckled, “Sorry, you know me. I can’t cheat. But if this test goes wrong, I can tutor you.”

You lifted your head quickly, a bright red spot on your forehead from where it was previously pressed up against the wooden desk, “Wait, really? You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he smirked, running his hand through his hair in a stupidly attractive manner, “What are friends for?”

You flashed him a bright grin, “Oh, you’re the best, Remus.”

His cheeks turned slightly pink as he smiled back, lowering his head slightly as he flushed at the compliment. You felt your heart leap at his flustered state, unsure why the strange feeling decided to make its home in your chest.

You brushed it aside as the professor entered the class and handed out the quiz papers, making sure every student was silent and that no cheating would occur.

Within the first glance at the page, your heart sunk, all previous fluttery feelings gone. You had been so focused on remembering ingredients and potion colours that you forgot to study their purposes. The entire first page was asking about what each potion did and who they helped best. And you hadn’t even brushed on that subject during your late night study session.

Long story short, you were screwed.

You closed your eyes, thinking long and hard about each answer, writing down whatever felt right. It was always good to trust your gut instinct right?

In this case, it didn’t feel so right, but you went with it anyways.

What felt like two hours was only really thirty minutes, and the quiz was officially out of your hands. You felt ashamed handing it back — you knew your Professor would think you were a fool, a student who found excuses not to study. And that feeling was nagging you throughout the remainder of class.

“You don’t look so good,” Remus nudged your shoulder once you packed up your books, your entire body slouched and your lips curved downwards into a frown.

“I botched that so bad,” you groaned, tossing your head back and closing your book bag, throwing it over your shoulder, “I was too tired last night and didn’t study everything I wanted to.”

Empathetically, Remus wrapped his arm around your shoulder, guiding you out of the crowded class. You were too busy sulking to pay attention to the fact that Sirius, James and Peter weren’t even with you guys.

“I’ll help you,” Remus said, voice laced with confidence, “I don’t want you doubting your intelligence so I, Remus Lupin, appoint myself as your own personal tutor.”

“Can people self-appoint themselves that?” your face broke into a grin, his humorous antics thankfully distracting you from your disappointment, “You’re too much.”

“But you love me,” he ruffled your hair, removing his arm from around you and slipping his hand into his pocket.

You chuckled, shaking your head as your heart leapt in your chest, “I really do.”

——

“I failed.”

Your voice was weak and quiet as you sat down on the Gryffindor table bench during lunch the week after, your mood rather sour. You had been incredibly worked up that morning, knowing you’d be getting your test results. But now that you’d gotten them, you wanted nothing more than to go back in time where you didn’t have to deal with the reality of the failure.

Remus’ face fell and he placed his hand on your knee, “Ah, I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t do so well either. I think this test was marked more strictly than they usually are.”

Though you appreciated the effort, it didn’t lift your spirits.

“I didn’t think I’d do bad enough to actually fail,” you sighed, slouching your shoulders and resting your elbows lazily on the table, “I’m mad at myself.”

“Hey,” Remus lifted his hand off of your knee and poked you in the shoulder, “Stop that. Seriously. Don’t put yourself down so much.”

“Hard not to,” you leaned forwards and rested your head on your hand, eyeing the food with a frown. Your appetite wasn’t present at the moment.

Remus snapped his fingers in front of your face, “I’m serious, Y/N. I’m here to help you, yeah? We’ll get through this. We’ll improve together. The next quiz won’t even stand a chance against us.”

You wanted to keep sulking, but his words brought a smile to your face. Remus had a way of cheering you up — him and his ways. Something about him.. you just couldn’t stay upset around him.

“Thanks,” you grinned, lifting your arm and poking him in the shoulder as he had done to you previously, “I do feel a little better.”

“Good!” he flashed you a toothy grin, his eyes brightening, “That’s always the intention.”

You stared at him for a good moment, the smile not leaving your face. His freckles seemed more visible than usual, his hair lighter and his eyelashes long against his cheeks each time he blinked. Though his hair was thin and brown, his eyelashes were thicker and darker — it was rather cute. His eyes had specks of green in them and, you had never really noticed before, they had some grey in them too.

You had to snap yourself out of the trance he left you in, unaware and unsure as to what caused it.

Had you just checked Remus out? No. Couldn’t be. He was your friend. Friend. Best friend.

You took a deep breath and began filling your plate, appetite suddenly back. You filled your stomach with chicken pot pie and potatoes, hoping that the faster you ate, the better you’d feel.

But nope.

Though your mind was off of your test, you somehow felt even worse. Remus was all you could focus on. His closeness, his kindness, his warmth, his smell.

“Ready for the afternoon?” Remus stuck his hand out to you as he stood up, shaking you from your weirdly romantic thoughts.

“What?” you blinked, “Oh — yeah, sorry.”

You shook your head and stood up, linking your hand with his as the two of you left the hall and took off towards your next class.

——

“No, no,” Remus shook his head, “You need to add this.”

You stared blankly down at the messy piece of parchment, nodding your head slowly, trying to remember which potion you guys had been talking about in the first place.

“Uh — which one again?” you asked sheepishly, your ears burning at the obvious fact that you weren’t paying attention, “Sorry.”

He let out a small laugh, placing his finger on the page in front of you, “This.”

You were glad that the library was quiet at this time of day, the cloudy weekend morning meaning most students would be choosing to start their day relaxing around in their pyjamas and drinking pumpkin juice.

You, however, while others students got to relax and spend the morning doing nothing, you had the great misfortune of being dragged out of the common room by an equally tired Remus.

“The library is empty in the morning,” he had said at your repeated groaning.

And he was right. The library was empty. The only sound you could hear was your quill scratching against your parchment and Remus’ whispered voice trying to teach you while respecting the library noise rules.

“What potion uses porcupine quills and peppermint sprigs?” he asked, resting his head on his hands and staring at you intently, his eyes focused on you and only you.

“Uh—,” you fought the urge to look down at your parchment notes, “Elixor to Induce Euphoria.”

He grinned, raising his hand to high five you, which you gladly accepted, “See! You got this!” You felt your face warm up at the contact and compliment.

“Next question,” he smirked, leaning even closer to you, “What would you say if I asked you to come to Hogsmeade for a drink?”

“I — what?”

As if the wind was knocked out of you, you couldn’t utter a single sound. Had you heard him right? There was no way.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” he chuckled.

But you still couldn’t find the words.

Yes, you had recently looked at Remus differently, but had it been a crush? It didn’t seem like it at first — but as you looked at him now, his face illuminated by the light outside and the way his hair stuck up in odd places, you realized you did like him.

You liked him. Him and his boisterous laugh, his nervous nail-biting habits, his love for poetry and snow. You loved how he’d always be there for you, ready to crack a corny joke when you were feeling down in the dumps. You loved how he’d always have a book recommendation and a long list of reasons why it would be worth the read. You loved how he always had the neatest handwriting, his notes providing you with bits of information you’d miss in class. How he’d always look forward to dessert because of how delicious he found the pumpkin pasties.

And all it took was him asking you out for you to realize you were falling for your best friend.

“I’d actually like that,” you nodded, aware that your cheeks were probably glowing but you were too giddy to care at the moment. Somehow, you felt as if this was right. There was no strangeness about him asking you — it somehow felt as if you had been waiting ages for him to do so.

“Thank Merlin,” he sighed, relaxing his entire body as his face lit up, “Next weekend?”

“Hm, can’t think of anything I’m doing,” you tapped your finger against your chin, eyebrows raised and your cheeks beginning to hurt from the bright smile you were sending his way. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been this giddy.

He leaned across the table and linked his hands in yours. You melted into the contact, using your elbow to push your parchment and quill out of the way so you could lean forwards without fear of ruining your notes or your sweater.

Safe to say, studying was now long forgotten.

—

taglist:

@grierpilots

@hxfflxpxffs

@mikumana

@msmimimerton

@pit-and-the-pen

@diary-of-an-onliner

@theweirdsideofstuff

@thoseofgreatambition

@theweasleysredhair

@haphazardhufflepuff

(message me to be added!)

#remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin imagines #remus lupin one shots #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin reader insert #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fics

142 notes · View notes

burnedbyshoto · 5 years

Text

Who Do You Belong To?

Kinktober Day 6 ~ kink: brat taming

pairing: aizawa shouta x fem!reader

warning: smut, cursing

word count: 4,280

a/n: so.... this is for sure the longest full smut scene I’ve written. it ended up being 5 whole pages... I like it a lot, I think its one of my best ones to date!!!! but yeah anyways, who wouldnt want to be fucked to submission by aizawa????

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

There were often moments in life that made you reflect on the reasons why they happened.

It was currently nine at night, and you were still in the office working. Your stomach growled quietly again as your lips pressed together. Why the hell were you of all people getting kept here this long? You were a secretary, not a goddamn creator. Alas, it didn’t matter because your boss specifically asked you to stay, and you could not say no.

Well… you could say no, but you didn’t because you don’t think things out to the fullest extent. Your eyes trailed back to your boss who was currently placing papers into stacks. What seemed like his forever tired eyes were half opened as he did so.

His eyes snapped up to yours as if he could sense that you were staring at him. “Y/l/n-san,” He calls out, his voice husky from his lack of using it for the past five hours.

“Yes, Aizawa-sama?” You respond back, your cheeks tinting pink at getting caught looking at him.

“I’m sorry for keeping you in late, food is actually here if you’d like to go get it? We’ll eat and then we’re free to go?”

You nod your head in agreement, a grateful smile on your face as you stand up. “I hope it’s nothing from the cat cafe,” You tease as you begin walking away. Your heels clicking against the cold marble floors.

“That place has the best snacks, and you can’t deny that.” Aizawa chuckles as you roll your eyes, entering the elevator.

Best snacks your ass.

You went down many floors and saw a young man with a bag of food waiting outside the locked doors.

“For Aizawa?” The man asks, and you nod your head. Smiling as you took the bag from him and bid him a good night.

The bag was warm. It wasn't from the Cat Cafe seeing that it wasn’t inside of the outrageous pink bag they provided for takeouts. You went back to the elevator and went up the floors until you were back. You walk back over to Aizawa who seemed at the very least cleaning up.

“Dinners here!” You exclaim as you enter his office opening up the bag. You discover two salmon bowls from the one corner store you loved. Your jaw dropping as you feel grateful for him buying this. “Now I feel bad for making fun of you!”

Aizawa snorts as he grabs his own bowl, breaking his chopsticks before even taking off the lid. “You’re jealous that you can’t pet cats when you’re eating.”

“I may have enough cats at home to not want to go to some Cat Cafe and pay for what I can get at home for free!” You chortle as you take off the lid, sectioning off the salmon into smaller pieces before eating it.

“As do I, but you can never come across enough cats,” Aizawa smirks as you laugh.

“You’re cheating on your cats, that’s what I’m hearing?!”

“If you put it that way, yes. But I am only looking for more cats in my life, to increase my happiness.”

“Sounds like what a cheater would say.”

“Shut up, brat.”

You roll your eyes despite the smile plastered on your face. The two of you fall into silence as you finish eating your late-night dinner.

“I got it,” You say taking Aizawa’s empty bowl from him. “Finish cleaning up, I have a lot less than you do.”

With a grateful smile, you grin back as you take the trash and deposit it into a trash can with a lid. Returning back to your desk, you gathered the papers into neat piles. Putting some into labeled manilla folders before grabbing them. You begin heading back into Aizawa’s office.

“These are the ones that you’re taking home, and this is the one you’re keeping here.” You present the papers and folders to Aizawa who nods.

“What would I do without you?” He asks as you snort.

“Hire another secretary who is only half as amazing as me?”

“True.”

You stared at the three boxes of folders. Aizawa was going to need to take back home with him, and your eyebrows scrunch slightly. “Do you need me to help you take them to your car?” You ask as you know exactly how heavy just one of them is.

“If you wouldn’t mind?”

You stare at the black-haired man and smile at him. Through appearances alone, you would never say he was a CEO of anything. Sure he wore nice suits! But his hair was longer, and his cheeks were almost always stubbly and patchy.

“I’ll help you take them in, too.” You decide. Aizawa’s eyebrows scrunching at your declaration. You can see him piecing together what you meant by that. “I’ll follow you home!”

“Y/l/n—“

“Oh hush, you're on my route anyway!” You exclaim as you grab a box, turning on your heel and walking out. Uncaring for his protests as he catches up to you.

“You know, I liked you better when we first met and all you were was obedient,” Aizawa mumbles as you enter the elevator and smash the garage floor.

“Well, you were intimidating and knew my job better than me! But now you’re simply my boss who doesn’t know how to take care of himself!” You laugh as Aizawa shakes his head in denial. “You said to me, and I quote, ‘I don’t think you’ll last here very long’.”

“I did not!”

“YOU DID TOO! Oh my god, it took everything within me not to cry!”

You smile broadly as his eye roll, and you slip out past him with your head high as the elevator doors open.

“You know I can take multiple trips to and from the car when I get back.” Aizawa insists as he opens your car door for you to let you place in the box.

“Don’t be crazy!” You retort, your hands placing in the box with ease and shutting the door. You walked over to Aizawa’s car and helped him open his own car. You watch as Aizawa places the boxes in, and your eyes lock on his ass as he stretches while he secures everything.

Your eyes widen.

Nope.

No!

Aizawa Shouta was an amazing boss! Don’t get it wrong, but you were not going to be some cliche secretary screwing your boss! Besides, you didn’t even know if he had a wife, fiancee, girlfriend or not?!

“Y/l/n-san.” His voice calls to you, breaking you free from your internal panic.

“Y-Yes??”

“You can close the door now? Let’s get going, it’s late as it is.”

“We don’t work tomorrow though, I can stay up.” You mutter, your cheeks flushed as you close the door and scurry to your car. You get in before he can say anything else, and you start up your engine as you wait for him to move.

It takes less than twenty minutes, but finally, you’re pulling into his driveway. You step out of your car and go to the other side to retrieve the box. Your eyes locking on Aizawa who was holding his own two boxes.

“You good?” He asks, and your head nods. It’s too quick to be normal, but he doesn’t ask as he turns down to the entryway. Unlocking the door with ease and letting you in.

His house is surprisingly very neat, it’s organized, and has a modern theme to it that you find to be breathtaking. “You have an amazing house…” You say in awe, as you kick off your heels and put on slippers that weren’t his own.

“I had someone else set it up for me,” Aizawa admits with a shrug. “It is quite amazing though.”

You laugh as you nod, your eyes turning to the heavy box in your hands.

“Where do you want me to put this?” You ask lifting up the box for further emphasis.

“My office space would be nice,” Aizawa says, nodding his head in the direction of where he wanted you to go.

“Lead the way!” You chirp and he sighs, but he gets in front of you and walks towards his office.

You walk into a room that was most definitely an office space, with a large computer, desk, files, and books. It was a honest to god office. Aizawa places his two boxes down, and once again your eyes locked on his ass. You bite down harshly onto your lip as he moves to the side. If only you could get him to fuck you. But Aizawa was a man by the rules, you knew better than to assume he would ever have his way with you. Not while you were ever his employee.

“Go ahead and place it on the floor.” Aizawa nods and you sigh, doing as commanded. You place the box down was a soft thud, adjusting it so that it would lay perfectly parallel to the other boxes. You grunt softly as it’s a bit heavy to slide against the carpet. Satisfied with its placement, your body stiffens as something warm presses into you.

You stand straight up, and your body's pressed against another warm body. Hot breathes of air hitting your neck as the feeling of prickly stubble brushes your ear. “A-Aizawa-sama?” You squeak as you feel his warm hands settle onto your waist, and a lush moan escapes your lips.

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t resist anymore.” He pants against your ear. You can’t believe this is happening. “Is this something you want?”

You nod your head quickly, not trusting your voice at all as your hips move against his pelvis. You relish in his low growl, and you grasp the fabric of his pants, keeping him close to you. “I need you to say it to me, sweetheart.” He growls as he begins to grind his pelvis into your ass, and you laugh.

“I don’t feel like it.”

Aizawa turns you around, his dark eyes blazing into your own, and you smirk. He just had no idea what he was getting himself into.

His lips burn against yours, and your hands find solace in his hair. His lips are demanding, rough, and full of purpose. He groans against your mouth as you give his hair a particularly hard tug. His fingers are gripping your waist tightly. Aizawa's grip is strong enough you believe there’s a possibility that you’ll have bruises from it. You shudder softly as his tongue pressed against your bottom lip, his way of asking for you to open up. But you refuse.

Your lips remain closed as you continue kissing him. You're smirking softly as you can feel his irritation at your disobedience. “I’m going to warn you just this once,” Aizawa speaks against your lips, and he pulls away. Your eyes fluttering open to see his eyes locked on you, annoyed, furious, and yet turned on. “I don’t like it when my kitten is disobedient. “

You let out a sound that could only be close to a purr as your nose brushes against his own. “And I love it when I drive men crazy, it looks like we’re in a disagreement, ne?”

Aizawa’s nostrils flare and his lips come to crash against yours. But you’re two steps ahead and smile when his lips press against your cheeks. “It seems to me that you’re wanting to be a brat,” Aizawa growls as his hands travel up to your breasts, groping them without mercy as you gasp. Your body arching into his chest. “Do you wanna know what I do to brats?” Aizawa mutters in your ear, and your head lolls to the side.

“Let them have their way?” You tease as your hands roam his chest, the feeling of his muscles under his shirt quickly turning you more on.

“I punish them.” Aizawa snaps, his fingers freezing over your breasts.

Your eyebrows scrunch, not at all liking the lack of movement on your breasts. You, however, have no time to complain as you’re tossed over his shoulder. Your shrieks filling the room as he walks away. His hand stays on your ass you try figuring out where he is. You weren’t able to see anything but the floor and his ass.

“Stop squirming.” Aizawa snaps, his fingers pinching the back of your leg and you let out a moan. Why did that feel so good? You gasp as your body gets thrown onto a bed, your hands flying out to stabilize yourself. “Now, let me ask you this. Are you going to behave, or are you going to continue being bratty.” His eyes shine with lust and need. At this moment you don’t know which response would be better, but you did want him losing control. You wanted to see Aizawa pound you into the mattress like no tomorrow.

Your lips lock onto his, your mouth pressing against his like there was no tomorrow. You crawl onto his awaiting lap and sigh when you brush against his growing arousal. You sigh as his tongue pressed against your bottom lip once again, but the smirk on your face makes him pull away.

A sigh leaves his lips as he shakes his head, “I was hoping we could do this the easy way, y/l/n…”

Before you could question those words, you’re thrown onto his lap. Your stomach pressing onto his legs in a very uncomfortable way, it almost hurt to breathe fully. You shifted in an attempt to look at him, but his hand shoved your head back down. His other hand raising your skirt well above your ass.

“Were you expecting to get fucked tonight?” He asks you, and you shudder at his light touches. His fingers gently touching the panties you wore.

“Yes.” You snap, waves of pleasure flowing through your veins as his finger rubs down your slit. Your arousal beginning to seep its way through your folds.

“You’re such a naughty girl,” Aizawa tuts, his finger curling into your heat, and a lewd moan escape your lips. “Do you want to know what I do to naughty girls?”

“Let them have their w-way?” Your voice hitches as he shoves two more fingers into your heated cunt. A sharp intake of breath leaving your lips as he thrusts them in forward and backward. Pained gasps echoed in the room as his fingers leave you without warning.

“I spank them,” Aizawa growls and you can feel his heated palm rest against your bare ass. “You’re going to count for me every single time I spank you okay, kitten?” He asks as his hand rubs a warm circle into your ass. “I want to hear you thank me with every hit, too.”

Before you can retort, his hand comes to spank you hard. The slapping sound echoing as you shudder. Your ass stung from the single hit, but your bit down on your lip defiantly. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your submission.

“What did I fucking tell you to do?” He growls, his hand yanking on your hair.

“Sorry, do you consider that a spank?” You snarl slightly, a cunning smirk on your face as you glance at his infuriated face.

You don’t have time to relish in this situation, however. You feel your body getting shifted further down. Your face almost pressing into the floor as his hands kept your secured against his lap.

“Now, I expect you to fucking count, and say thank you, daddy.”

Your breathing is unstable as his hand now rubs where your cunt and ass are, and his hand comes down hard. You cry out the second his hand slaps against your skin, your body shaking at the impact.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you,” Aizawa growls, and his hand comes down for another hard spank. You scream at the pain-filled pleasure of his smack.

“One!” Your sob is quiet, your ass moving to relieve the stinging pain. “Thank you, daddy.”

“Ah so now you’re not being a brat,” Aizawa growls as his hand comes down again.

“T-Two!” You moan, your face flushed in embarrassment and undeniable lust. “Thank you, daddy!”

His heavy hand comes down on you again, and again, and again. Until you’re a quivering mess underneath him. Until your ass raw and red from this punishment. Until your voice is almost hoarse from your loud screams and moans.

You shake against his thighs, your body weak, and your arousal high.

“Get up,” Aizawa commands, and you follow his order without much resistance. You scrunch your face slightly at the pain that shoots through your body. He did not hold back. “Did that turn you on?” He asks as you quiver in front of him.

He may have just thoroughly abused your ass. It seemed, however, that your fighting spirit still remained.

“N-No.” You stammer, your eyes locked onto his own. His eyebrow cocked slightly as he stood up off the bed, his hands moving to get his belt off.

“Get on your knees,” Aizawa commands, and you still. You don’t listen, choosing to instead glare into his eyes. His hands grip your face, and it takes all your mental strength not to moan at his ferocity. “Who do you think you’re talking to, kitten? Who do you belong to, right now?” He growls as his fingers hold tightly onto your face.

“I don’t know.” You moan as your hands move to sit onto his chest.

His eyes swim in yours, a cold smirk flashing across his face, “I guess I’ll just have to fucking teach you again.”

As if by magic, you’re on your knees. Your shirt removed from your body, and Aizawa lets his pants fall off his waist and onto the floor. You watch with hungry eyes as he strokes his cock in his hands, his teeth grinding as he does so. Licking your lips in anticipation, you get closer to him. Your mouth wanting more than to envelope his long and thick cock into your mouth.

His eyes snap over to you, no longer focused on his cock, and you freeze. Once more pretending not to be at all interested. “Open up, kitten.” He commands, tracing the head of his cock against your lips. Precum slathering against your skin.

Still, you stare at him, unwilling to budge for him, unwilling to open up. His eyes narrow as he glares at you, “You’re such a fucking brat.” He hisses, and he reaches down, pinching your nipple through your bra with ease. Your mouth drops into a moan, and he shoves his length into your mouth without hesitation. “Shit,” He hisses as his hips snap into your mouth.

You gag as he hits the back of your throat at full force. Tears springing into your eyes as you try adjusting to having his length feel bearable in your mouth. You grasp the back of his legs as you open your mouth further, his hips snapping into your mouth with no mercy.

His hair pulling at your hair as he grunts, “Look at me, I want you to look at me.” He growls as you. “Don’t you dare look away.”

The simple command sends pressure through your body. The liquid heat of your arousal soaking through your panties.

You moan around his dick, his hips relentless in their conquest. Your eyes can barely keep themselves locked on Aizawa’s as he fucks your face. “You’re so pretty when you’re choking on my cock, kitten.” Aizawa groans as dick spams within your mouth, and you choke around him. Fire erupting in your lungs from the lack of oxygen, but it feels so good.

You felt the head of his manhood hit the back of your throat as you pulled away despite his grip on your hair. You gasp for breath before going back onto his cock, once more gagging on his length. You repeated the action, feeling Aizawa hit the back of your throat as you sucked his dick. Your fingers shooting forward to play with his balls, fondling them as he curses your name.

It’s your first name this time that escapes his lips, and it sends a spine chilling sensation down your body. You hum as your mouth sinks all the way down his length until your lips brush against the base of his cock.

A feral sound releases from his mouth as he pulls you off his dick, and gets you up onto your feet. “Strip.” He snarls as he moves to take off the rest of your clothes, and you nod dumbly. You wanted him to come in your mouth, but he took that away from you.

His eyes lock over you. Your fingers slow in taking off your bra. Your skirt still bunched around your waist. Aizawa wastes no time in helping you get your skirt off, letting it pool to the ground, and he drops your panties onto it.

He tosses you on the bed, and you giggle slightly as your head is near the footboard. A grin on your face as he comes over to press a kiss to your mouth. His lips are far more gentle than he’s been all night. The sensations making you sigh against his mouth as his tongue slips between your lips.

Your tongue dances around his, avoiding it at all costs much to his annoyance, but you’re smiling. “Even when you barely have energy, you’re still being bratty, kitten,” Aizawa mutters against your lips, his mouth trailing down your neck and you sigh.

“I can’t let my daddy just win,” You moan as his fingers tease your clit, your body arching off the bed.

“Turn around,” Aizawa groans as he shoves your body onto your stomach, you gasp as he shoves your ass into the air. “God, you ass looks so pretty up in the air for me.” He moans, pressing delicate kisses to your skin.

You mewl as you feel his cock tease your entrance. You snap your head around when you feel his weight far closer to you than you would have believed it to be. “You better hold on, kitten,” Aizawa growls as he holds one hand onto the footboard, and one on his cock. “I’m not going to be easy on you, you were a naughty kitten tonight.”

Before you could ask why his feet were getting planted by your hips, his cock rams into your dripping cunt. A shriek ripping from your throat as he pounds into you. Your hand shooting out to hold onto the footboard centimeters from his own hand.

“SHOUTA!” You shriek as he ruthlessly slams into you. His hips coming down so fast your body moves with every thrust. Your moans tumble out of your throat as the bed is quick to move with your movements. It squeaks are loud in your ear alongside his insistent pounding.

“What’s that, kitten?” He growls, his hips hammering into you at mind fogging speed. “What’s my fucking name?!”

“Daddy!” You scream as your pussy throbs around his pounding cock. You’re unable to even throwback your hips in rhythm with him. You were stuck to the mattress, only able to feel his cock entering you at toe-curling speeds. “Oh my god, FUCK you feel so good!”

“You take my cock so well!” Aizawa grunts as he releases one hand from the frame and runs it down your back to press against your clit. Your head throws back, your back arching further into the bed as you scream again. Your pussy clenching with no remorse around his dick. “Your pussy is so fucking tight. Do you want to come now, kitten?”

You can only nod your head as the pressure continues to build and build.

“I need to hear your words.”

“Fuck me, daddy, please I need to come so badly!” You sob out as your body trembles under his thrusting, you’re so close you’re seeing stars.

“I knew you would fucking submit.” He growls as his hand slams near you, his hand moving to pinch both your clit and nipple.

That’s all it takes and you come hard around his dick, his name ripping through your abused body as he moans. His knees falling to the mattress as he continues pummeling into you. Chasing after his own orgasm now.

You pant harshly as you move your hips against his own. Your pussy still clenching around his throbbing dick. You hear him expel a wavering sigh, and you can feel him come within you. The heated fluid filling you up as he collapses onto the bed. You moan as you push yourself off the mattress, staring at Aizawa who leaned up to pull you into his body.

The two of you laying there. Your sweat-soaked skin pressed into each other as silence overcomes the room.

“You know, I don’t see why I needed to go to your office to play out this scenario.” You moan as you shift over to grab the rings off your nightstand, slipping them onto both of your fingers. “We could’ve just done it in your home office just as easily.”

“I needed help though, and you had the day off.” Aizawa smiles into your neck, his face nuzzling in closer.

“And you say I’m the brat!” You scoff as your fingers play with his hair and he nods.

“I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, you were perfect.” You whisper as you press a kiss to his forehead.

“Okay…” He whispers as he sits up, “Do you need anything, my love?”

“A wipe would be nice.” You sigh as he presses a kiss to your lips.

“One wipe, coming up.”

#aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #bnha aizawa #aizawa scenario #aizawa smut #mha aizawa #bnha writing blog #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #mha imagines #bnha imagines #burnedbyshoto does kinktober #bnha kinktober #mha kinktober

2K notes · View notes

nyr-nra · 3 years

Text

Red Thirst : CH01 Lynchers

The city of Kuve sprawled. The sun had set but it was still alive, like any other day. Cars, bikes, bus and train gave the city a constant buzz, which could be easily ignored. High rises scratched the sky in many places of the city. Huge malls and multipurpose buildings squatted in several locations. The river lisari ran from north to south.

But Kuve wasn’t the city without shadows. That’s where the leeches lurked waiting for prey. The BLC agents and the city police alike were blind as bats at night. The blood drinkers roamed at night, so did the lynchers.

It’s a moonless night. In dark alleys and backstreets Kil and his Senu had been chasing blood thieves.

Blood trickled down the wrist of the urchin. The thieves had left a shallow but long cut.

The girl with the birthmark on her temple screwed up his face in pain. She was lucky Kil had found her. The thieves had just started bleeding her.

Kil unwound the bandage from his left hand, exposing his hidden scars. He felt vulnerable this way. He wrapped it around the bleeding wrist of the little girl. The girl groaned as he tied the two ends of the bandage.

Kil quickly filled a syringe with a healing serum and injected its pale yellow liquid into the girl’s feeble arm. A single vial wouldn’t heal the cut completely, but she would have less time to heal completely after that. And she would bear the scar.

“Where do you live?”

“Under the rainbow bridge,” the girl replied.

Most homeless and urchins lived under bridges.

Kil heard a babel closing in to their location. He turned to see a dozen men running toward them. Each held a makeshift weapon in hands; sticks, slabs of wood, shovel, iron rod. One had picked up a large stone, and was about to chuck it toward Kil, but stopped as soon as he saw Kil helping the little girl. The clothing of the horde was as ragged and dirty as the girl.

“Father,” the girl called out, running toward them.

A middle aged man spared a glance at Kil first before he devoted his attention to the girl. The rest showed cautious seeing Kil’s half hidden face, clutching their weapon tight and shaking at the same time.

Kil didn’t remove the scarf around his face. It was imperative to keep his identity a secret, Senu had said.

The girl showed her bandaged wrist to the horde of homlesses, relating her story of how the blood thieves cut her wrist and started to take her blood, when the two lynchers show up.

The ragged man who she called father bobbed his head, and mounted ‘thank you’ to Kil. The rest were still impatient. The girl had her people to take care of her now, Kil could continue his hunting.

He broke into a run, pricked up his ears to pick up any abnormal sounds. He went deeper into the alleys, looking for a chalk mark on the edge of the building at every corner.

People dawdling and loitering in the alley jumped aside to make way for him, confusion in their eyes. Kil knew he was on the right trail. And as he went further the number of people dwindled.

After dozens of turns, he ended in a less tidy backstreets. Dark, grimy and mouldy walls and pervasive sewage odour. Kil began to understand why the thieves would pick this route.

It was a run down part of the city, they must be outside central Kuve now. The building had less windows, and those that did were dark. Without the moon it was almost completely dark.

Voices. Not far.

He had to slow down. After a while he found himself in a crossing. He turned right and saw them. In a small space, Senu’s tall shadow closed in on three smaller ones. Tall building loomed on three sides. A deadend. But he was outnumbered.

Kil took a deep breath of determination and walked over.

“Good timing,” Senu said without turning. A scarf hid his face, just like Kil, but his color was blue. His two-inches blades glinted in his hand. A single bulb glowed from a pole nearby.

The three blood thieves took several steps back as soon as Kil joined in. They had also drawn their weapon. One of them had a five-inches blade. One was carrying a leather bag on his back. It was a box shape, which Kil discerned was the freezer that housed the blood they had stolen from homelesses including the little girl.

Anger flaring inside, Kil pulled out his own two-inches blades.

The thief with the big nose spoke first, “The boy with scars on his left arm…” his lips curled into a smile as he faced Senu. “A you, fast, tall with a blue scarf. The leader of the new batch of lynchers.”

The big-nose was the shortest of the three blood thieves. Everyone would be taller than him. Even Kil stood one human head taller.

“So, he isn’t here,” said the one with the leather bag. “Are we in luck?”

The man thought he felt lucky but he was visibly shaking all the same. And stood farthest, closest to the wall, under the dark window. Kil had a feeling he was aiming for escape.

“I heard he stalks alone,” said the matted-hair one, nervously clutching his five-inches blade. His temple gleamed with sweat.

Kil wondered who they were talking about. Seemed to know who they were really frightened of.

“He or not you are all going to the asylum all the same,” Senu said. “All sinners must.”

The matted hair charged. Senu jumped in to fight him, while Kil slowly circled around the big-nose. He had a short blade in his right hand. Unlike his bold friend he waited.

He didn’t flinch nor attack back. Senu had been having fun with the matted-hair over his side. They were just small thieves who carried blades.

Kil lunged forward and swung, the thief tried to dodge but the blade scratched his cheek. It was evident that they weren’t much of a fighter. Kil dashed and punched with his blade. His opponent caught it with his palm, the blade piercing through it.

The thief didn’t wince. When Kil tried to pull his hand back the thief grabbed him over the fist along with the blade, his nails digging into his flesh. He was stronger than he looked. Kil was caught. He couldn’t move.

Kil brought up his right leg fast, and kicked the thief between his legs. There was a loud crack.

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t feel anything.

It dawned on Kil. The curse of the red thirst not only gave the person an uncontrollable urge to drink human blood, it took away a specific aspect of being a human. Right now Kil was fighting a leech whose ability to feel pain had been snuffed.

A fucking Painless. They were the hardest to fight.

The small thief crooked a smile, and flashed his blade in his hand. Now when Kil couldn't move, he was ready to attack. Before he could use his blade, Kil dropped his right blade and used it to grab the wrist of the thief. He gave all his strength and yanked the small thief hard. Apparently the thief wasn’t a heavy weight. The small thief smacked the wall with a heavy sound. The crack was louder this time.

The thief tried to stand up but his legs failed him. He flopped on the floor, throwing curses at Kil.

“Puny,” Kil muttered.

Kil knelt, picked up his blade again, and raised it high. He was about to bring it down directly into the heart thumping of the thief.

It stopped.

Senu had grabbed his hand. He looked him in the eyes and said, “Don’t.”

“Aish.” Frustrated, Kil lowered his hand.

“Bind him,” Senu said.

Kil bound the hands and feet of the thief with zip ties, and tore a piece of cloth from his shirt and gagged him as well.

He looked around. Senu’s opponent was lying on the ground, writing and groaning. Groaning. So he wasn’t a Painless.

“Fearless,” Senu said.

Kil had tied his hands and legs too. Kil could see a long cut on the man’s right cheek, several shallow but long slashed on his chest. His whole front was soaked with his own blood.

The last thief had abandoned the freezer box, and was not trying to climb to the dark window. Not a Fearless.

Kil took a few steps back, launched forward, leaped and stabbed the man on his shoulder blade. He landed back with his feet, but the thief thud the ground with a painful growl.

Neither a Painless.

The thief sat himself up and leaned on the wall. He was trying to reach the handle jutting out of his back.

“Don’t send me to the Asylum. I'd rather die.”

“As much as I love to kill you,” Kil said. “I can’t. You are lucky. Are you a Bliss?”

The thief nodded.

Blisses were the worst. They drank human blood for pure pleasure. They felt numb or senseless of everything around them whenever they consumed blood. Losing grasp of reality, they emerge in a world of their own. A trip.

Kil hated them the most.

“Why? Why are you doing this to us?” the thief asked, his breathing was ragged, he was sweating profusely.

“Animals shouldn’t live among men,” Kil gave his honest answer.

Kil reached for his blade at the back of the thief. Kil glimpsed a quick movement, and a glint of yellow light, and the thief’s hand flashed his blade and he swung it toward Kil’s neck.

Kil reacted instinctively by raising his left arm. The blade skewered his already scarred forearm, stopping it. Kil felt the tip graze his neck.

“Son of a bitch!”

Kil staggered back. Pain spread to his other part of the body.

Enraged, pulled the blade off, spraying blood all around. Before Senu could stop him, he stabbed the thief's right knee cap.

The wail echoed in the night.

He wrenched his own blade from the back of the scoundrel, gribbed it tight and thrust it to the other kneecap.

The thief’s wailing was louder and more painful. And Kil let him.

Senu had a disappointed look. He didn’t like Kil stabbing leeches in the knees. The serum would heal them, but they would be crippled for more than a year. And if they were in the asylum, there was a chance that workers at the asylum would forget to give them even painkillers, let alone healing serum. They had a reputation for that.

Kil was used to Senu’s disappointment. He promised revenge to the leeches when he brought him from Senggu to the city.

Senu proceeded to gag and bind the thief, while Kil opens the freezer box. He found seven bottles of blood inside. The sight sickened him. The anger was blazing so strong inside him that he wanted to gore the thief’s kneecap all over again.

He picked a bottle and flung it against the wall. It broke, spilling blood and glass pieces all over.

Kil destroyed the rest of the bottles while Senu was extracting information from the three blood thieves. When he was done, the wall turned gory red and the place was stank with raw blood. Although Kil wasn’t sure if the smell of blood was from the bottles or his own arm.

It hurt.

“Where are you taking the blood?” Senu asked the matted-hair man. “Who is buying?”

“Nobody.” the man said.

Senu smacked him hard in the nose. Senu was against killing leeches but he occasionally enjoy hurting them, especially to wring out information.

The thief he howled as his nose broke. Senu raised his fist again.

“Wazu… it’s Wazu.”

Kil’s body reacted on it’s own.

“Where is he?” he asked, pulling the front of the man’s shirt.

“I don’t know.”

It was a reflex that Kil punched the man’s already broken nose. Blood splashed to his face.

“WHERE IS HE?”

Kil punched two more times, before Senu pulled him back.

“I … don’t…know.”

“Fucking liar.” Kil tried to shake Senu off.

“Enough,” Senu said. “Calm down. We don't have much time. We might’ve already alerted the police.

Kil walked away from the thieves, feeling their eyes on his back.

No one knew about Wazu. It was frustrating. He vanished after he killed his father. For two years Kil had been looking. His name came up a couple of times during this time, but it always ended in a dead end. Today could be the same.

“Does Wazu work for the coven?” Kil heard Senu asking.

“I don’t … know,” came the unison answer in a terrified voice.

A siren blared from the direction of the highway.

“Listen,” Senu said. “We know who you are, and where to find you. If we meet again in the same circumstances, I won’t be able to stop this boy. You were right about your luck. I wouldn’t be able to stop the other boy.”

But Kil was reluctant to leave yet.

“They might be lying.”

“If Wazu is in the city, Ogma would know something. These men knew nothing. Wazu is too careful, as usual. We’ve alerted everyone in the building.”

Senu indicated the buildings surrounding the area.

Back in Senu’s car, Kil took a roll of bandage in the glove box and wrapped it around his blood dripping arm.

Then he filled a syringe with the healing serum and jabbed himself in his upper arm.

Although he failed to find out anything about Wazu, again, he felt little relief that the thieves were finally caught. The police are pretty familiar with the work of lynchers by now. They would find the thieves and test them if they were leeches.

Senu started the car.

“Senu?”

‘Huh?”

“Who were they talking about?”

“Who do you think, it’s your old roommate.”

Kil could see someone’s spirit. He saw’s the spirit of the, bag holder.

In next part as well.

“The Coven is in Kuve. I can’t tell if Wazu is working for them or with them. But he is important to them.”

Don’t show the tattoo from Ogma, in the next chapter. Hide it.

His wore a loose sleeve, elbow length shirt, He kept the buttons open, they flaped and rustled as he ran against the wind. The summer was ending and the wind was starting to get colder, he found himself wishing for a more thicker shirt or a jacket. The winter in Akerin was ending, but the wind was still chilly at night. Kil regretted not taking his jacket with him.

#red thirst

1 note · View note

croonerboy1965 · 4 years

Text

JUMPER

Jumper

It was just another fire, in just another run down old brownstone, on just another day.

It took quite a while to evacuate everyone as the fire was gutting the inside of the old apartment building, faster than they could put the flames out. Buck was going floor by floor, making sure no area was left unturned, as one of the rescued insisted her 6 year old son was still inside. One door after the other, left Buck increasingly concerned, as again and again, he would yell the boy’s name, making himself hoarse and taking far too much smoke into his lungs as he did so.

“Sammy!!”, He screamed.

“SAMMY!!”, He hollered with all the effort he could muster.

Nothing…

Just as a last resort, he decided to check the roof, unsure he would have a chance to make it all the way back down if he stayed in this blaze any longer.

He kicked open the roof access door and shouted once again, but it wasn’t needed. As soon as he stepped out on the roof, he saw something huddled in the far corner, next to the pipework and venting.

When he got to the boy he was covered in soot and clutching a small, stuffed teddy bear to his chest. He was not breathing. He laid the boy out flat and began CPR, doing everything he could to bring the boy back to consciousness.

“Come on buddy, come on! Come on, Sammy!

No no no! Not today, please not today.”

But it was no use. The boy was gone.

Buck just grabbed the small, lifeless body and held it close to him. And he just sobbed.

He dealt with this kind of thing every day, but somehow, right now, this one was just one too many. This innocent boy. What did he ever do? The unfairness of this, and his own life, settled over him in a cloud of despair turning into a torrent of sorrow. He wailed, despite the rawness in his throat or the soreness of his smoky lungs. He let the pain, inside and out wash over him.

As if on cue, it began to rain. As his tears subsided, he set the boy down and lay the stuffed bear atop his small chest, wrapping the boy’s tiny arms around it.

Before he knew it, he was up, and stepping toward the roof’s edge. Then out on to the ledge. He looked down over the drop. As he did this the wind from the brewing storm overhead, picked up and blew his helmet off. He watched as it tumbled slowly and seemingly endlessly to the ground below. It seemed to be beckoning him to follow. Tears began to flow, lost in the raindrops that fell, as he watched them, disappearing into the blur of red and blue lights below.

On the ground, the survivors were gathered, being triaged and paired off with loved ones, and those that needed it, were being placed into the available ambulances.

A woman ran up to Bobby.

“My son… have you seen my son!?”, she cried.

“One of the firefighters went in to get him, but they have not come out!”

Bobby looked around, and seeing Eddie, he shouted, “DIAZ! Have you seen BUCK!?” Eddie shook his head, and just as he did so, Buck’s helmet wizzed past him from above, just missing him as it smashed to pieces on the ground at his feet. Eddie looked up. Bobby looked up. A woman screamed.

No… Buck no…he thought.

“Buck! Buck! I’m coming! Just stay there!”, Eddie shouted.

“Let’s get a ladder up there!”, Bobby ordered.

They had no choice but to try and get to the roof from the outside with a bucket, as the inside was completely gutted by the fire and most of the fire escape was melted and twisted from the heat.

The truck with the longest ladder positioned itself and unfurled the longest set of rungs they had and still it was not enough. Eddie was up the ladder before Bobby or anyone could stop him. But he was still four or five floors from the top.

Bobby’s voice came over the bullhorn.

“Buck. Just stay right there. We’re coming for you… Eddie, let’s bring er down. We’ll call in air support.” Just then a crackle came over the radio.

“Cap—doesn’t look like we’ve got air support.”, Chim said.

“With all the wildfires in the area, there aren’t any choppers left, much less any nearby that can get here in any reasonable amount of time.”

Eddie heard this, and looked up at Buck, and then to the nearest ledge along the height of the building, and leaped off the ladder, nearly missing the edge.

He was used to rock climbing and had a strong finger hold, but with the rain, the edge was slick and one of his hands slipped, causing a shriek from one of the survivors below. Eddie regained his grip and pulled himself up and along the relief sculpted carvings that dressed the sides of the building. When he got to the corner, he was able to use the end caps to pull his way slowly up the side of the structure, floor by floor, stopping occasionally, for just a few seconds to rest before continuing on. The rain poured down on to his face and gear, making it difficult, to see and adding weight to the climb as well.

As he reached the top, Eddie strained with all his might to pull himself up and onto the roof. He rolled over on to his side and gasped for air, giving himself a moment to rest.

Buck was so inside his own thoughts he did not even realize until the moment Eddie spoke, that anyone was even there with him.

“Buck.”, spoke firmly and stumbled forward as the roof top under him trembled. The interior of the building was slowly giving way. He knew they did not have much time, and he still was not completely sure how they were going to get out of this. Buck startled and almost fell, before catching his balance. They looked into each others eyes. Eddie spoke again.

“Buck, what are you doing?”, Eddie said.

“Stay back!”, Buck said more forcibly than he intended. Eddie took a step back, and put his palms up in a no harm gesture.

“You got it.”, he said. “Just tell what I can do.”

“There’s nothing you can do…There’s nothing anyone can do.” , Buck said, the words barely squeezing past the lump in his throat.

“Buck…please…why are you up here? What’s going on?”, Eddie asked.

“Why did YOU come up here?”, Buck said, looking at Eddie accusingly and with a touch of regret in his eyes.

Eddie waited a beat, then took a breath and started to speak.

“Buck, look, I know sometimes everything feels wrong, and you feel like the whole world is against you, and you… You think you’re the only one. You’re the only one in the fight. You try, and you try, and no matter what you do, it just gets worse. Until you can’t fight anymore.”, Eddie paused a moment, gathering his thoughts before continuing.

“You don’t know!”, Buck interjected.

“What!?”, Eddie said. “What don’t I know?”

“You remember a couple of months ago, when I took time off for a few days, and I told you I was going to Hawaii on vacation?”, Buck said.

“Well… it wasn’t a vacation. I was having surgery.”, “A colonoscopy. “, Buck said, and his eyes welled up with tears. I spent the whole week waiting by the phone...waiting for the tissue test results. They found cancer.”

“What?”, Eddie was dumbfounded. “Oh Buck…”, Eddie looked at Buck with sympathetic eyes.

“Don’t—don’t you look at me like that!”, Buck admonished.

“Like what?”, Eddie said.

“That look people give you when they know your screwed, that look of pity in their eyes when—when they know there’s nothing they can do. Like it’s hopeless. Like I’m HOPELESS.”, Buck turned his gaze back to his feet and over the ledge to the street below.

“Buck—Why didn’t you tell me?”. Eddie pleaded. “Is that what all the drinking, all the recklessness on the job was all about? Is that why you—propositioned me?”

Eddie could not believe that last bit escaped his lips, but he had to know. If this was it, if this is where it all ended, he had to know exactly how Buck felt about him.

“It doesn’t matter…Not anymore.”, Buck said.

“It matters to me.”, Eddie said. “YOU—you matter to me.””You’re not alone Buck.”, Eddie moved slowly and carefully toward Buck, the ceiling under his feet, rumbling with increasing urgency.

“Alone…Yeah? What do you know about being alone?”, Buck said accusingly. “You have your Abuela, you have Christopher, and what do I got? Abby left me. My little sister, she has Chim. And all I got is goddamn cancer. Can you cure cancer, Eddie? Because I sure the hell can’t.”, Buck was practically shouting.

“Ok LOOK!”, Eddie shouted back.

“Buck… I know what it’s like to be alone. To feel like it’s just you against the entire world...Always having to face everything by yourself. Feeling like you have no reason to fight. No one to fight for. That’s exactly how I felt, after the war. Before Christopher. Before you.”, Buck looked up at Eddie and saw the mist in his eyes, heard the halt in his voice. And for just a moment, he felt the slightest glimmer of hope.

Eddie continued.

“We’ve both tried hard to make this life something worth living. We’ve both tried, and we’ve both failed. But there’s one thing we haven’t tried. We never tried fighting together…” And with that, Buck turned to step down onto the rooftop. But as he did so, there was a huge explosion beneath them. Eddie watched wide-eyed as Buck tumbled backward and over the edge.

Instantly, Eddie dove for Buck and instinctively grabbed his arm, the weight of him, and it’s momentum taking them both with it.

At the last second, Eddie’s boot caught the ledge and his foot wedged itself between two sections to intricate masonry carvings, crowning along its edge. Buck’s weight snapped his ankle in the process. They both yelled out loud.

Buck’s arm slipped his wet rubber sleeve sliding through Eddie’s gloved hand. Eddie groped at Buck’s arm with all his might, catching him at the wrist.

“Let me go.”, Buck said. A look of certain defeat in his eyes.

“Please…Buck… Listen to me. If you don’t give me your other hand, we’re both gonna fall..., Eddie winced at the growing pain in his foot. And if we both fall…then Christopher, will lose two people he loves very much. I don’t want to disappoint Christopher—do you?”, Eddie asked. Buck, I’ve lost people too. I lost Shannon. Chris and I—we both did. We can’t lose you too.”

“Just let me go… You should have never come up here. Christopher needs you. It’s all over for me, Eddie. Either way, I’m done. Tell Christopher I love him, and I’m sorry.”, Buck looked down at the crowd below them, preparing to let go.

It was then, when Eddie found the truest courage in his heart. The courage to tell Buck the truth.

“Buck—wait, I have to tell you something. I need you to listen to me. If we die today, then we die together. But not until I tell you the truth.”, Eddie said, a lump catching in his throat.

“Buck! Look at me!”, Eddie barked at him. Buck’s face snapped back toward his.

Eddie spoke the most honest and truest words he ever said in his life.

“That day in the truck, while I was looking at pictures of Christopher on my phone, when you told me how much you loved kids? That’s when I knew. That’s when I knew I never wanted to be alone again. That’s when I fell for you. And I’ve fallen for you 1000 times, every single day since then. And I’d do it again. Just not like this. Not like this!” “You are stronger than cancer! You’re so much stronger than this. You’re the strongest person I ever met. And you know what? Fuck cancer. I don’t care what it takes, I’m never giving up on you. Never.”, Eddie looked deep into Buck’s eyes, more sure now than ever they were going to live— they were going to make it. More sure than he had ever been about anything in his life. He spoke again in a measured, and certain tone.

“Buck… Evan… Give me your hand.”, he watched as Buck’s tenuous grip slid ever so slightly, as he started to realize the weight of them both was inching his foot from the boot caught at the roof’s edge.

He panicked and screamed, “I love you Evan Buckley! Now give me your goddamn hand!”

Evan smiled. That smile. The beatific, yet mischievous, grin that Eddie so dearly loved.

Buck knew for the first time in his life, here, at the end of his life, at last, he was loved. He felt loved. He loved Eddie. He knew what he had to do. For Eddie, and for Christopher.

“I know you won’t give up. You’re going to make it, Eddie. I know you will. Because you’ll never give up on your son. And…I love you too, honey.”, Buck’s own tears misted up in his eyes.

“I love you, Eddie Diaz.”

Suddenly he reached up with his other hand, grabbing the cuff of Eddie’s glove, turning it inside out, peeling himself loose from Eddie’s grip. It happened so fast, Eddie did not have time to respond. A scream escaped his lips, but he never heard himself scream, nor did he hear the screams of the crowd below. Time slowed to a crawl. Eddie’s eyes grew wide in shock and horror. He watched Buck falling for what seemed like an eternity. Buck’s face was so calm. So at peace. Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see the outcome. He howled a guteral, animalistic, sound full of utter sorrow and excruciating pain.

He screamed long and loud, util he had nothing left. He just hung there for what felt like an endless amount of time. And then Buck’s words came back to him, forcing him back to reality.

“I know you won’t give up. You’re going to make it, Eddie. I know you will. Because you’ll never give up on your son.”

Eddie opened his eyes, but with the tears and the rain, and the throbbing of blood, thrumming in his skull, he could not see much more than some blurry, incomprehensible shapes. He had no idea how he was going to get down. But he absolutely had to get down. For Christopher. He squinted, focusing on his surroundings. He could feel the pain in his ankle, but it was swollen enough that he was pretty sure it wasn’t going to move. He thought maybe, if he could find a way to get a hand hold on the flagpole he spied a couple feet to his right, he might be able to pull himself free from his boot and drop his feet down, and swing himself in to an upright position, then climb back up onto the roof. He tried with all his might to push off with his good leg, reaching out with his hands as far as he could. He tried a few times, missing each time. The flag pole just millimeters from his grasp. Just when he was about to resign himself to the fact, he might not make it, he heard a voice from above him.

“Hey! Are you just going to hang around here doing nothing all day, while the rest of us are out here busting our asses?”, Chim teased.

“Chim!?”, Eddie said. A smile spread acrosss his face. “How the hell did you get up here?”

“Oh—you think you’re the only one around here who knows how to scale a burning building?”, Chim said.

Eddie tried to retort, but the sound of a chopper cresting overhead drown him out, as Chim guided the basket down underneath him.

“Okay Eddie, I’m gonna cut you out of this boot, so wrap this loop around you as tight as you can. As soon as your free, I’m gonna lower you down to the basket.”, Chim shouted.

“What about you?”, Eddie asked.

“We’re gonna be fine.”, Chim said. Eddie looked up to see Chim holding what looked like a parachute and a harness.

“Wait a minute,” Eddie said, “What do you mean, we?”

“Me and the kid.”, Chim said.

“I thought the kid was dead?”, Eddie asked.

“No, no, he’s just fine...and you’d have known that if either one of you two bozos had bothered to check his pulse.” This made Eddie laugh in spite of himself.

Then the smile melted from his face, as reality set in.

“I lost Buck.” Eddie said.

“Yeah, I saw that.”, Chim said.

“You lost him, but we caught him. You held him just long enough for us to move the truck and get the safety cushion inflated. It was little bit of a drop, so he may not be as pretty as he used to be. He’s banged up, but he’ll live.” Chim said.

Eddie was so excited by this news, he fumbled with the para-cord almost losing the rope in the process. He wrapped it around himself, slipping it over his head and arms, tightening it chest height. He curled the slack around his hands and gave it a tug, to let Chim know to lower him down to the waiting chopper basket.

Once this was done, and Eddie was safely away, Chim scooped up Sammy and his teddy bear.

“Hold on tight!” he said, as he fastened them together in the harness. Chim removed his helmet placed it on Sammy’s head. He tightened the chin strap as much as he could, and leapt out and away from the roof, just moments before the rooftop collapsed in on itself. He deployed the shoot and the two of them glided to the ground. A cheer rose up from the crowd.

Bobby, congratulated his crew and belted an order into the bullhorn to push the crowd a safe distance away from the crumbling building.

√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√

AFTERWARD

Buck lay awake but groggy in his hospital bed. It had been a long recovery. He was bone tired, and in a lot of pain, despite having plenty of meds. Not just from his multiple injuries, but also the mandatory suicide counseling. His thoughts were a jumble as he drifted in and out of consciousness. During one of his more lucid periods, he heard a knock on the door.

“Hey little brother, I think a couple someones would like to see you.”, Maddie said, as she held the door open, allowing both Christopher and Eddie to hobble through. They looked like twins, Father and Son both on crutches, as they made their way to Eddie’s bedside.

“Hey buddy!”, Eddie managed to croak at Christopher.

“Hi Buck.”, Christopher whisper-spoke through his usual crooked, irrepressible grin.

“Are you okay?”, Christopher said. As he moved to the bedside. He placed his head in the crook of Eddie’s neck, gently so as not to disturb his injuries.

Eddie’s heart swelled, as he smiled and looked down at Christopher, kissing his hair.

“I’m just great.”, Buck said.

He glanced up to see Eddie grinning from ear to ear.

Again, his heart filled up to almost overflowing. He had to force himself not to cry.

“Yeah you are.”, Eddie said.

“And how are you doing?”, Buck asked Eddie.

“Who, me?”, Eddie said, pointing to himself.

“I have never been better.”, he said, flashing his perfect, gleaming white smile. Until now, Buck never thought of it as beautiful.

“Your heart is beating really fast.”, Christopher said to Buck.

Buck and Eddie broke the gaze they held between them, realizing it had hung there a bit too long.

Eddie cleared his throat.

“Uh—hi…I’m another person in the room.”, Maddie said. She looked at Buck and then back at Eddie, and got the distinct impression that she ought to leave the room. Clearly, she would need a chainsaw to cut through the tension between these two men. They looked at her and said. “Hi!” in unison.

Maddie rolled her eyes.

“OK! Christopher, let’s let these two talk for a bit. What say we go see if we can find a snack machine around here somewhere?”

Christopher stood up and said, “Yeah!”, clearly excited. Maddie led him out of the room, leaving Eddie and Buck alone together.

“Long time no see.”, Buck said.

Buck would not remember it, as he was out for quite a few days after his fall, but Eddie stayed at his bedside every day during his recovery.

“Long time no see.”, said Eddie.

Before buck could even come back with a reply, Eddie leaned in and kissed him deeply on the mouth. They lingered there, resting their foreheads together, looking into one another’s eyes. They kissed again, before Eddie sat down in the chair next to Buck’s bed, taking Buck’s hand in his.

“Eddie—you should know—if they take out my colon…I read online that 78% of men lose their…drive.”, he looked down inadvertently at his crotch and blushed slightly.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. We’ll find other things to do. Sex is up here, and in here.”, Eddie pointed at Buck’s forehead and then touched the center of his chest.

“Not just here.”, Eddie said, motioning down to Buck’s crotch, which he swore, twitched slightly at his words.

“Besides, it’s not the thing about you I love the most.”, he said, smiling at Buck.

Buck looked into Eddie’s eyes, his face hopeful.

“It’s not?”, Buck said.

“Nah…I love how bad you are at darts.”, Eddie said

Buck laughed, but started to cough in mid-chuckle, as his ribs had not yet fully healed. This made Eddie giggle and then instantly feel worried.

“Ow…”, Buck groaned through his smile.

“Oh god, I’m sorry!”, Eddie said, smiling back.

“So kiss it and make it better.”, Buck teased.

Eddie wasted no time in honoring the request.

They were so caught up in what they were doing, they did not hear, the doctor, Maddie and Christopher open the door or knock as they came in.

“Whoa.”, Maddie said.

“You guys LOOOOVE each other!”, Christopher giggled, squealing with joy.

Eddie stood up, and coughed, and pretended to be straightening his shirt.

“We were just uh—“, Eddie said, grateful, as the Doctor cut him off.

“Mr. Buckley, I need to talk to you about the status of your tissue test from your colonoscopy a few months ago. You might want to clear the room.”, Doctor Gartner said.

“Ok buddy, more snacks!”, Maddie said, leading Christopher out the door.

“I’m Doctor Gartner,” the doctor said. “Could you give us a minute?”

“It’s okay. Anything you can say to me, you can say in front of him.”, Buck said.

“Are you a family member?”, the doctor asked.

Before Eddie could answer, Buck piped in.

“He’s my boyfriend… Uh—partner—Husband!”, he tried to course correct, landing on a title he felt, would discourage the doctor from questioning them further. Eddie brightened, and looked at Buck, who blushed a bit. Still, it sounded good. It sounded right.

He smiled and shook the doctor’s hand a little too excitedly.

“Eddie Diaz…Diaz-Buckley.”, he beamed, as Buck squirmed a bit. Eddie grinned at him, and Buck smirked, going along with the lie. Then he thought to himself, “What’s wrong with Buckley-Diaz?”, before realizing he considered it as if it could actually be a thing.

“Mr. Buckley…We tried to call you a few weeks ago, to let you know, that your tissue test came back positive for cancerous and precancerous cells.”

Eddie’s smiled faded. Buck’s eyes widened.

“Now before you say anything”, the doctor continued, it appears we were able to remove all the cells, and while the fact that they were inter-mucosal, is a concern, I would not recommend lower colectomy at this time.”

“What does all that mean?’, Buck asked.

“It means you are cancer free…for now.”, the doctor said, “You will have to make follow up visits, as we need to verify you’re healing, and then every year for the next couple of years, to check for any new growths, but if it looks clear, then you should be ok to wait every five years. But check ups are very important if you want to stay ahead of this thing. Understood?”, the doctor nodded in Buck’s direction.

“He said I’m cancer free!”, Buck said. Eddie realized he had Buck’s hand in a white-knuckled grip. He let go of Buck’s hand and swung himself headlong toward the doctor, practically tackling him to the ground in a big bear hug.

“Thank you, Doc!”, Eddie kept saying thank you over and over, as he rocked them back and forth, all at once realizing what he was doing, as the doctor pulled himself away. Eddie let go and tried to help the doctor, by brushing down the wrinkles in his crisp white coat.

“Uh… you’re very welcome.”, the doctor said, straightening himself before giving Eddie a wink, and bowing to Eddie and quickly leaving the room.

“Did he just…?”, Buck said, indignantly.

“Well…I am pretty sexy.”, Eddie said, as he swaggered his way back to Buck and kissed him on the lips.

“Speaking of which… he continued.” “About that sex we were never going to have…”

Just as the words left his mouth, Maddie and Christopher came in.

Eddie looked surprised.

“More snacks!”, as she turned Christopher right around and back out the door, and Buck sighed putting his head in his hands.

“How about we just try a date first?”, Buck said.

“OH that’s a great idea! There’s this great hot air balloon place…”, Eddie said, before Buck cut him off.

“Let’s—I was hoping for something a little closer to the ground. Like a picnic.”, Buck said. “Besides, I haven’t had the greatest luck with hot-air balloons.”, Buck said.

“Understood.”, Eddie said.

There was a knock on the door. It was Maddie again.

“Is it safe to come in yet?”, she said. You have some visitors. As she opened the door, the heads of Chim, Bobby, Hen and the whole crew peeked around the door and made their way in, bearing gifts.

Then Christopher blurted out, “My Dad and Buck are in love!” The room fell silent for a moment before everyone got the giggles.

“It’s ok buddy, WE KNOW!” , said Bobby.

“You do?”, Eddie and Buck said in unison.

“YES!”, everyone said all at once.

“Oh… Well in that case…”, and Eddie planted a big kiss right on Bucks lips. And then another, and another, and another…

“It’s about time.”, Chim said, as Maddie dumped out the contents of her purse all over the bed, covering it with vending machine candy and snacks.

#buddie #9-1-1 show #evan buckly

17 notes · View notes

fandom-monium · 5 years

Text

Drip and Stream

Chapter 1: At First, There was One

"There were four of you. Then two. Then one.

You wonder how it ended up like this."

Due to unfortunate circumstances, you find yourself under the wing of the ex-pillar, Urokodaki Sakonji. Slowly, you grow and little by little you become stronger each day, but the trials of life are never over. You have to fight. To purge demons. To become a pillar.

If you want to make real change happen in a world of demons and swordsmen.

This is your road to becoming a demon slaying swordsman. And it starts with Urokodaki.

It is only Urokodaki and you in the beginning.

"What exactly are we doing here?" you ask, gazing around the throng of people shoving past each other through the narrow village streets. Or at least, it seemed narrow given the business of the day. Through the gaps between the crowd, you can make out the white banners of wooden stalls selling hot-off-the press street food. You nearly salivate at the intoxicating scent of Takoyaki permeating the air. Suddenly, you feel extremely small. You leech onto your teacher, sticking close behind his broad and reassuring back. "Are we going to see Ms. Doctor again?"

You hear the scowl behind his mask as Urokodaki answers, "That's 'sensei' to you, Brat, and why the doctor? Is your eye acting up again?"

Your hand grazes the dark eye patch as you purse your lips. "Well, no not really. If anything there's... nothing. I don't feel anything from it anymore."

"... I'm sorry."

You watch Urokodaki slightly angle his head towards you. It's evident in his tone, and while you haven't seen his face, in that moment you picture old, battle-worn features pinch with guilt.

You don't appreciate it, really.

Rolling your one good eye at him, you snort, "Whatever. It's not like it's your fault anyway, so stop feeling sorry for me. Instead, why don't you tell me why we're actually here?"

"For your information, I'm meeting with a colleague."

"Eh, you're just seeing a friend? But I still need to practice."

"... I wouldn't go as far as to call them a friend."

By his tone, you realize what he means and your nonchalant mood sobers. "They're still trying...?"

"Yes, unfortunately. Even though I'm retired," Urokodaki sighs, halting in front of the local tea shop. He turns to you. "(Your name), why don't you explore the town while we're here. I know you don't enjoy crowds, but we don't often come to a nice little village like this. Try to relax. You're always training. Do something for fun."

You stare down at your boots and pout, "Sword training may be grueling, but it's fun for me too."

Your teacher huffs, "I'm sure it is, but the human body needs time to rest. Your performance may decline if you continue to push yourself too far. Just two hours, have a bit of fun. I swear to the gods you won't regret it."

"... I suppose you're right," You give him a pointed look, "But once two hours are up, we're heading back to continue training."

"Of course."

You wave your farewells as you walk away from Urokodaki, from the tea shop, and from the high ranked Demon Slayer Corps official that rests at a booth in the far back.

+++++++++++

You don't have money and Urokodaki hadn't given you anything to spend, so hanging around the shopping district means nothing for you. You'll have to find something else to pass the time. You quickly breeze through the streets, between the uncomfortable hustle and bustle of people. You make an effort to avoid getting grazed by strangers as you grip your haori closer to your body with gloved hands. Your mind strays back to Urokodaki and you frown, finding yourself deep in thought.

You don't understand why your master, your sensei, did not want you to meet with an official of the elusive Demon Slayer Corps. Is that not what you've been training for? To be one of them? A live image of your goal is at your fingertips, yet Urokodaki turns you away for the sake of "rest" and "fun".

You huff as you stride through the streets. Wandering aimlessly, you hardly notice as dusk falls over the town. You grind your teeth together. Screw fun and rest. You're too pissed off. Not at your teacher but at the whole situation. You're sure Urokodaki has his reasons. He always does, old and wise and all that.

They better be good reasons though, otherwise you swear you'll kick his old ass to the curb and find a new teacher. Someone who doesn't withhold students from learning opportunities and such.

Thinking back, you knew he would insist on pushing you away, so you didn't put up a fight. You pause at the juncture of the main road and an alley, gazing over your shoulder at where you came from.

Perhaps you should act like a real "brat", as your teacher calls you, and go back? Try and meet with the official. You're not sure what purpose this would serve, but a part of you hopes that meeting an active Demon Slayer might bring you even closer to your goals. Get a better picture of who you want to become in the future.

Because you sure as hell don't like who you are right now.

You stand off to the far side of the street, debating the pros and cons of your idea for a short moment.

Then the ground trembles.

Your head snaps up to peer down the street. Most of the shops already closed and much of the people left upon the sun setting. Lanterns blazing, the few villagers outside chatter amongst themselves under the warm lights, but they lack any reaction to the reverberations.

Your brow furrows. But you're sure you felt...

You pull your gloves off, pressing your calloused palms against the dirt road without a second thought. Shutting your eyes in concentration, you block out the white noise and the common vibrations, quickly filing through them until-

"There it is!" You look up, eye snapping open.

A demon.

Maybe a few streets down or so, but it's there. No doubt about it.

And one - no - two, two pairs of human footsteps. Uneven and stumbling. Children. They're trying to... You swallow, heart thumping in your ears. Run.

You stare into the dark alley, in the direction of the commotion. Biting your lip, you wonder if you should go find your teacher. You wandered too far from Urokodaki, and you may or may not have lost track of yourself in your fury. There isn't time to find him. By the time you do, the demon will escape and the kids dead.

I'm an idiot. You grit your teeth and your hands twitch, the human steps faltering and all three signatures disappear. You curse.

Tugging on your gloves, you dash into the alley, weaving through the streets as you trace the movements. Left. Right. Dead end, damn it! The town becomes a maze. Your boots kick up dirt as you turn corners and leap over walls, steadily catching up to the three signatures' location. Panting, you skid to a halt before training a wide eye down the dimly lit road.

Two pairs of footsteps, running and stepping and hitting the ground. One signature lay still. Just at the other end of the path.

You sprint. It's a blur as you speed towards the group, your view on them growing bigger. Clearer. Figures become more defined. Wind howls in your ears as you grab the first thing you pass by. Two long, wooden stakes, each hooked on one end. Probably supposed to be used for construction or something. You don't think much of it. Your blood roars.

30 seconds.

You find the demon without trouble. He's small from where you are, and his back turns toward you as he focuses on his victim.

25 seconds.

You can't see her, but a girl's scream rattles your eardrums. You feel your body begin to tremble; you press forward anyway.

20 seconds.

Your lungs burn. Your legs ache. Hell, even your eyes throb. But you can't stop, not without losing your momentum and courage and energy all at once.

15 seconds. 10 seconds. 8 seconds.

You clutch the wooden stakes. Your hands shake.

The demon snaps his head towards you and glares, fangs and claws glinting against warm light. It's ugly and hateful. You snarl back as you take a running leap onto the nearby wall, dashing across it before pushing off. You dive for him.

6 seconds. 4 seconds.

Just an arms length of each other. The demon is a man, obviously larger than your small figure. He'll reach you first and you know it. You react instantly.

Grunting, you deflect his punch with the back of your forearm. At the same time, your other hand drives the stake into his face with all your strength. Blood sprays. Wood pierces skin. It hits its mark with a sickening squelch.

The demon roars. You twist, turning his eye to mush as you shove the stake to the hook before he backfists your cheek. The force sends you careening aside, rolling and tumbling across the pavement. Your vision swims.

You struggle to gain your bearings, gripping the last stake in your hand. Gasping for breath, you watch as the demon stumbles. It slams into the wall.

A demon newly turned. You notice it before, feeling his blood run through his arm when he tried to punch you, then as he hit your blindside. The flow, it's not the same. Not the way older, more experienced demon blood does. This guy, he lacks the confidence, power, or purpose. His blood rushes like it is still trying to get used to its new body, streaming through arteries and veins as if lost.

That doesn't make the situation any less difficult though.

You chance a glimpse at the rest of the party. A young girl sits on the ground, eyes wide like you're not real. Soft face stained with dirt and kimono tattered, you'd assume she hasn't changed clothes in weeks. For a split second your eyes meet before hers flicker to the side.

You follow her line of sight. A couple feet behind her, a boy rests propped up against the wall, but there's no blood. Thank gods. But his body is just out of the range of the lamps. It's too dark and your eye strains to make out the rest of him.

Legs almost buckle, but you run to the girl's side and help her stand. "Come on. Let's get out of here before he recovers."

She blinks up at you with what you think is disbelief. But stiffly she nods, following close behind as you go and crouch next to the boy. His eyes shut tight and brow furrows, glistening with sweat. The rest of his face is loosely bandaged, but the rise and fall of his chest is enough to assure you he's alive. No sign of other wounds. You sling one of his arms over your shoulder, and the girl does the same, then on three, you hoist him up. It jostles him, making the boy groan. You huff from the exertion. Kid is skinny but dead weight.

Together, the girl and you lug him down the street.

Sweat trickles down your temple as you struggle to speed away with the additional loads. Your legs burn, your chest aches. And why's it so hard to breath? You stifle a groan.

Bad (Your name) pops into your consciousness. It'd be easier to just leave them behind. Afterall, you have nothing to do with them...

You growl, slapping away Bad (Your name). You push through your exhaustion.

Eyeing your surroundings, you recognize the edge of the shopping district and the corner of your lips turn upward with hope. Now if you could get within Urokodaki's range... You quicken your pace. The three of you make it to the next street.

"Don't think I'm done with you!"

Damn it.

You hear his boots pounding the road as he catches up to you. In a few strides, he's right at your heels, and with all your weight, you shove the girl and boy to the ground. He trips, flying over your heads before he catches himself in a handspring. Twisting midair, he lands several feet ahead of you.

Towards the inner shopping district.

You want to scream in frustration, pull hair. Yours or the demons... It doesn't matter because HE IS MAKING THIS INCREASINGLY HARDER THAN IT HAS TO BE!

Taking a deep breath, you grimace, moving to shield the boy and girl.

Flexing his claws, the demon sneers, "That was a lucky shot, kid. Next time you won't be so lucky."

You opt not to answer, gripping the stake till your knuckles turn white. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of any visible fear of him.

"Playing hero, huh? That's honorable of you. But you understand this is a fight you can't win, right?"

"Maybe," Your eye narrows at him as you further push the kids behind you. "But your eye says otherwise."

About three minutes pass since you gouged out his eye, but the stake is tangled where his eye should be, distorting his sight. The demon regenerates so fast that he can't remove it in time before new muscle and skin take place.

He tears at his own flesh, unfazed.

Blood drips down his face as he growls, "Again, lucky shot. What, jealous I had two eyes instead of one?"

Only one of you. Just one has to stay behind. Keep the demon at bay while the other finds reinforcements. You don't bat an eye at your decision.

It's now or never.

"Girl, take your friend and run. Head for the center of the shopping district. You'll find a tea shop there. If you happen to meet an old man dressed in a cloud haori named Urokodaki, tell'em (Your name) sent you." You step towards the demon and smirk. "And if he doesn't make it over here, I'll haunt his ass for being late again."

You keep your focus on the demon as you hear clothes rustle at your back. The girl grunts at her companion's weight, the heavy thump of her footsteps against the dirt road growing distant.

You wish you feel relief, but the idea of being alone-left with a monster- overwhelms you. Drowns you until all you can see is the demon.

But it is enough of an answer, and you launch yourself forward.

++++++++++++

"(Your name)," Urokodaki calls out to you gently, as if words would break you. His steps are slow, echoing through the night. You don't seem to notice.

Behind his mask, his eyes roam over your small figure as you hunch over the twitching body. The metallic scent of blood overrides his senses the closer he gets; it's on his tongue, in his throat, and in all his years of being a swordsman, the scent of blood still made him want to vomit.

Especially demon blood.

Blegh. Something about the blood of demons always made him stop breathing.

He pushes down his disgust, calling you again."(Your name)?"

"Ur-Urokodaki?" You flinch, not tearing your gaze from the demon.

He hopes you don't notice how scared he is for you as he says, "I'm right here, (Your name)." Still, you refuse to turn to him, keeping your eyes trained on the lump of flesh and bone at your feet. He can't see your facial expression. A part of him doesn't want to.

His heart wrenches as he turns his gaze down to your bloodied hands, one bruised a dark purple, and the other knuckles white clenching a broken stake. It drips red.

Your heavy breaths reach his ears, and he reaches a hand out to touch your shoulder. There is no shaking as your muscles stretch taut, ready to spring at any moment. Finally, you look at him and he presses his lips together, heart aching as if you had driven that stake into his chest.

Your eye patch. It must've fallen in your struggle. And now he can clearly see all the panic and guilt that paints your face.

"I-I'm so sorry. I couldn't... " You stammer, your gaze flicking between the demon and him.

Deep breaths. Urokodaki nods in understanding, scanning the immediate vicinity until he finds what he's looking for. Quickly he goes and bends down to pick up the leather eye patch, walking back to you as he dusts it off.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. The demon, he just kept talking and talking and he wouldn't shut up. I know I said wouldn't-"

"(Your name), it's going to be okay." Whether he is telling you or himself that, he isn't sure.

"But-"

Using his sleeve, he wipes away most of the blood, dirt, and sweat from your face. He places the eye patch over your eye. "You did good."

"Really?" You stare at him wide eyed.

"Yes." He ties the string at the back of your head before his hands fall back to his sides.

Your clutch on the broken stake tightens and you turn back to the demon body. "Thank you, but-"

"(Your name)," Urokodaki reaches over to pat your head reassuringly. Then he takes your small fist in his hand but you don't look at him, glaring hard at the demon. As if daring him to get back up. Your fist shakes from the strength of your grip, splinters digging into your palm. Gently, he peels back one finger at a time.

"It couldn't have been helped." Your index finger. "You were pushed into a corner." Your middle finger. "You didn't have any other choice." Your ringer finger. The rest fall away with ease as you relax completely.

The stake hits the floor. He notices the way your shoulders finally slump. He nudges your back, leading you away from the scene towards where he came from. Towards home. "Come on. It's time to head back."

You swallow, "How are they? The other two? Did you..."

"They're fine. The girl did as you told her. You're lucky she had your scent on her. I may not have found you had we not found each other." He glances at you. "But you knew that, didn't you."

You give him a wry smile but that's it. You're too tired to talk. That's understandable.

You've had a long night.

Chapter 2 coming soon~

Hi, welcome to my new fixation!! I hope you enjoyed my new reader insert. Do let me know what you think!!!

Don’t worry, Soulmate AU isn’t over. I’m just prioritizing stuff, and my fanfics aren’t exactly the top 3. I started this to let out some imagination steam. Kimetsu no Yaiba has my creative juices flowing! I have so many ideas that I couldn’t hold it in...

Hope you enjoyed the beginning of your journey to becoming a demon slayer!

Mini Masterlist

152 notes · View notes

writinginstardust · 5 years

Text

Drunk In Love 2.0

Pairing: Mako x reader

Request: @thats-so-bucky asked “ okay so resending: this was supposed to be the first one sooooo like you got all the promised requests and again, reminder that I really won’t mind if one or two turned a bit or a lot smutty😏👀👀 so the first/last request: drunk/sloppy kiss with ma boi Mako please?? 😍😍 ”

Warnings: smut, drinking

A/N: The promised smutty version of this fic, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1767

"What a day," I sighed as I flopped down in my desk chair, bottle in hand, and kicked my feet up on the desk. Mako grunted in response from his own desk. I shook the bottle in his direction. "Care to join me? You look like you need it."

"Nah, I've got a mountain of paperwork to finish."

"Ah come on, we're off-duty. Take a break. Relax for once." He seemed to consider it for a moment before finally wheeling his chair over to me.

"Alright, hit me."

Half a bottle or so later it was safe to say we were drunk. Slumped in chairs. Giggling over something we'd both already forgotten.

"Did he really try and hit on you while you had him on the ground in handcuffs?"

"Yeah, and all the way back to the station, and through questioning, and while he was taken to a cell. I swear I almost punched him just to get him to shut up."

"I wouldn't blame you. I don't think even Beifong would have."

"Wouldn't have been so bad if he was cute.."

"Didn't have you down as the type to date criminals."

"There's a lot you don't know about me pretty boy." I winked to make sure he knew I was joking and was surprised to find him blush at the action.

"Well," he leaned forward, smirking, "why don't you enlighten me." This was a side to Mako I'd never seen, and quite frankly didn't realise existed. I kinda liked it.

"Oh we don't have nearly enough time to dive into my...eventful past tonight."

"Come on, tell me a secret."

"Alright, how's this? I have a crush on a co-worker who could never love me back." I shot him a grin and took another swig from the bottle when he looked taken aback.

"Who?"

"That's for me to know and you to figure out. Good luck detective." I winked at him again. Maybe having him as a drinking buddy wasn't the best idea I'd ever had if I was apparently going to act like this.

"Why do you think they could never love you back?" He asked, more seriously than I'd really expected.

"Oh a few reasons," I took another drink before passing him the bottle and counting said reasons off on my fingers as I went. "One, his ex's, I could never compete after them. Two, he is 'get the fuck out of here' hot with the most gorgeous eyes I've ever seen." Said eyes narrowed as he tried to puzzle it out. "So, y'know, waaaay out of my league. Three, I work with him like all the time and I know he'll only ever see me as a friend. Four, I'm pretty sure he's already basically married to his job. Five, I am the world's biggest screw up who got captured by Amon's lackeys and lost my bending. Six, I'm basically useless now because of that and he's an amazing bender so I don't deserve him. Seven-"

I didn't get a chance to finish my list as his lips collided with mine. It was short, messy, and a complete shock. I forgot to kiss him back.

"Did I read that wrong?" He asked when it was over and I'd failed to do anything.

"Nope." I didn't hesitate for more than another moment before kissing him again, climbing into his lap with a confidence I'd never usually be able to muster.

It was as messy and uncoordinated as the first one, the taste of the alcohol thick on his tongue. Even in my drunken state I knew it wasn't the best kiss in the world but as soon as his hands landed on me it was a thousand times better than any I'd had before. And they weren't shy. It's not like mine were either, but it was nice to see and feel the proof that he wanted this as much as me.

At some point I found myself laid out on my desk, shirt half unbuttoned and Mako's lips on my skin. Through the haze in my mind one clear thought emerged. We were probably too drunk to be doing this right now.

"Wait." He stopped immediately, looking up at me questioningly. I blinked, trying to clear some of the fog from my mind. "Sorry. I just...Maybe we should wait. Try this again when we're sober and you know this is what you want."

"I know I want this. It's what I've wanted since we started working together. But if you're not sure-"

"Oh I'm sure. I've been into you since your first pro bending match."

"May I continue then?"

Fuck it.

"Yes."

He reattached his lips to my neck, let his hands roam freely again. Every sensation was heightened through the haze of the world around us. Every touch seared my skin and left me wanting more. More of that heat, more of that fire that burned inside him, more of everything. As his hands undid my trousers and slipped inside I felt the heat rise, the spark between us catching and sending fire racing through my veins when he finally touched me.

Clothes were hastily removed, those that needed to be anyway, and cool air soothed the overwhelming heat of our skin. Lips, teeth, and hands were everywhere, their fleeting and drawn out touches stoking the blaze building in my core. His tongue joined his fingers between my legs and the world exploded around me. My body arching against the desk. My screams desperately bitten back. My mind melting in the heat of pleasure.

He pulled back grinning. Where did he learn that!?

"I guess there's a lot you don't know about me either." Apparently I'd said that out loud. I was hardly surprised with the alcohol and post-orgasm blur addling my brain.

"Why don't you enlighten me then?" And oh boy did he ever.

He wrapped my legs around his waist, hands proceeding to slide teasingly up my thighs. When they reached my ass, they gave a firm squeeze before pulling me forward so our hips pressed together. I couldn't contain a gasp as I felt his painfully hard cock against me.

He didn't do much more than grind against me for a few minutes, most of his attention focusing on the kisses he was leaving down my neck and chest. Some of the marks I wouldn't be able to hide but it felt too good for me to care. He worked his way back up slowly. Savouring. He only paused when his lips hovered just over mine.

"You sure."

"Yes." I already sounded slightly broken and he hadn't even started to fuck me yet.

He kissed me then, lips hungry and full of desire. A second later he slid inside me. He wasn't done with the teasing yet either, pushing his hips forward slowly, so slowly. The wet slide of skin sending moans tumbling from my mouth and into his as he made me feel every inch disappear.

Our breaths mingled, not quite kissing anymore, panting into each other's mouths while Mako remained still and let me adjust. I kissed him quickly when I was ready, breathing out a quick "move" against his lips. I didn't need to say it twice.

He pulled out almost entirely, waiting there just long enough for me to whine at the empty feeling, before pushing back in. Hard. He kept that pace for a while. Slow but deliciously hard and deep. My brain function was rapidly disappearing and in its place only a feeling of bliss remained.

I knew I was moaning obscenely. I also knew there was nothing I could do to stop it. And i didn't particularly want to. It felt amazing and it seemed pointless to pretend otherwise. Especially considering the way my back arched off the desk and the clear desperation in every roll of my hips.

Both of us were getting close, I could feel it. The knot in my stomach, the way Mako's movements were getting sloppier even as he picked up the pace, I could tell it wouldn't be long. I could tell I would be loud. I pulled his head down whispering a warning.

"I know, me too," he panted, connecting our lips right after as one of his hands slipped between us and slid down. He swallowed the especially loud moan I let out with his last few thrusts and I burned. He followed soon after and collapsed back into my desk chair, his breathing heavy.

Too spent to move I just lay there, half naked and wrecked on my own desk. A tiny part of my mind worried we might have just ruined some important documents but the rest didn't care one bit. I was out of it enough that I didn't even notice Mako wheeling the chair over until I felt the warmth sliding up my thighs again. I jolted at the contact and then almost screamed when I felt his tongue against me again.

Still sensitive from my last two orgasms, it was almost too much and I was shaking within seconds. Mako's hands rested at my hips, holding them down as I tried to move. Away from his mouth or towards it, I wasn't sure and my body seemed unable to decide on its own. I didn't have the will or the strength to hold back my moans and the room was soon filled with them as Mako quickly brought me to my third orgasm of the evening with just his tongue. He didn't move away or stop licking everything up until it was far too much and I had to pull him away myself.

As I caught my breath again, he lifted me off my desk and settled in my chair, depositing me in his lap. I didn't move, didn't speak for several minutes as I recovered. All the while, Mako ran his hands up my side and pressed his lips against my sweaty forehead.

"I should have gotten you drunk months ago," I murmured. He just laughed.

"You didn't have to get me drunk at all. If I'd known how you felt, I'd have done that ages ago."

"Would you…" I sucked in a breath readying myself myself for rejection, even if it was unlikely. This could still just be a one-time thing. "Would you maybe want to do this again sometime?" I looked up at him to watch his reaction. He smiled and kissed me. That must be good.

"I'd love to. One condition though."

"What condition?"

"You let me take you out for dinner first."

"Deal."

Tag Lists: (send an ask if you want to be added!)

Everything: @wonderfilledness

This Fic: @taina-eny

#mako x reader #mako imagine #mako #mako fanfic #mako x you #lok fanfic #lok #lok imagine #avatar imagine #avatar fanfic #avatar #reader insert #kiss prompt

153 notes · View notes

nunukibebe · 5 years

Text

Devil's Hour

WARNING: when i say supersub!san, i mean it. This is going to get interesting, so buckle up and hold onto your underwear.

Feet screaming from hours of constant movement, the first thing you did after stepping into your apartment was kick off your shoes and sag against the wall as relief coursed throigh your legs. Then, looking around at the darkened apartment you shared with your boyfriend, you wondered if San was home or not. It was almost midnight. Wincing as walking stretched the muscles in your still tingly feet, you made your way to the coat closet, shrugging off the heavy winter jacket and hanging it up, glancing at the two hooks screwed into the back of the door on reflex.

The sound of your neck cracking echoed in the dark room as you did a hard double-take, a dull throb low in your core as your body responded before your brain processed what you saw. A slow grin curled the edges of your lips as you realized what the missing collar from that particular hook meant and with a low laugh, you grabbed at something hanging at the very back of the closet. Shiny material, looking like an oil-slick in the dim lighting, slid off the hanger as you shed your work clothes like a snake skin, stepping into a different mentality with each article of clothing that was replaced with the latex outfit. Nothing more than a bandaid of a mini skirt and bra, you slid the fishnet thighhighs up your legs, a slight glare in your eyes as you looked at the heels, but you slid into them anyway.

Now knowing that San was probably in the bedroom, kneeling by the foot of the bed, his cock red and drooling as he waited, his hands curled into fists behind his back, you turned and slowly walked down the hallway. You knew that your footsteps echoed, because San had admitted that it served as a huge turn on while he waited, so even though you wanted to hurry, you made each step count. Nipples tingling as they tightened in arousal, you made a mental note to tell San that it turned you on too, and with a pause before turning into the bedroom, you put on the mental cap as Mistress.

It was proud smile that covered your lips next as your eyes landed on the kneeling San, eyes dark with desire as he drank in the sight of you in the doorway. Adding an extra sway to your hips, you slowly crossed the distance between you, tongue peeking out to lick your lips as a memory of last night flashed across your mind. Your thighs still quivered from the countless orgasms he'd given you while denying his own, his cock a battering ram inside you.

"This definitely explains last night." You chuckled as you crouched in front of your kneeling boyfriend, reaching out with a finger to lift his head up from where his eyes had down to your legs. The heat that met your eyes had you winking as you realized he'd figured out you weren't wearing any panties under the skirt. "And after day I've had, I'm feeling a little more... Adventurous."

The last word falling from your lips like a drop of oil, you stood back up, turning San's head with a finger as you made him watch you reach for the box under the bed. The layer of dust on the lid was a testament to the irregularity of its contents being used, and you caught the shiver of delight that ran through San's body as you lifted said lid off. The red of the ball gag stood out against all the black, and you reached for it first.

"Please." The gasped plea fell from San's mouth and you turned to face him, an eyebrow raised. You knew he knew the rules, having written this particular one himself.

"Already breaking the rules? Are you sure you want to do that?" You asked lowly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"What?"

The sharp word had San sinking back onto his heels, eyes blazing with lust as you slowly stood up, moving to tower over him, a hand whipping out to grab him by the chin, blunt nails digging into the skin. A keening whine had you smirking before you slid your hand up, entangling your fingers in his hair, yanking his head back to he could meet your eyes as you stood over him.

"Two rules broken already." You shook your head, seeing his eyes water slightly from the pain you were putting his scalp in. There was no give in his stare though, so you knew he was enjoying it. You knew the feeling, as your head was a little tender from how he used your ponytail as a handle while he fucked you senseless from behind last night. "I might need this after all."

You held up the ball gag beside you, and San gulped even as his eyes blazed. Still, he played the part and shook his head.

"I'm sorry Mistress, I didn't mean to not address you properly!" He hastened to apologize, and you tilted his head, wanting to see how far he'd go. "I won't forget again, I promise Mistress, I'm a good boy!"

"I'm the one who gets to decide that." You whispered against his ear, a guttural moan rattling in San's chest as you nipped at his earlobe, hard.

The hard plastic ball with its many holes fit perfectly in San's mouth, but not before you pressed a quick kiss to his lips, your way of assuring him that you loved him and would take care of him, and it stopped the low whine creeping up his throat as you held up a small coil of rope.

A crook of your finger had San scrambling to his feet, and you couldn't help the hand that dropped to his erection as he stood before you. Grinning at the shudder that had San groaning as your fingers encircled his length, using the dripping precum as lubricant to slide up and down slightly. Catching the involuntary jerk of a hand as you stroked him, you let your hand drop, a tsking sound breaking the silence.

"I didn't say you could touch yet, you bad boy." You purred into his ear, slinking around his body to stand behind him, a fingertip trailing across his chest and back. Admiring the way his muscles bunched and moved under your light touch, shadows playing across his back as you tied his wrists together, you couldn't help but press a kiss to the bronzed skin.

Stepping back, you swatted at his ass with your palm, the smacking sound doing nothing to mask the groan from San as his hard cock bounced in front of him, the tip red and angry at the lack of attention. A quick glance at San's face to make sure he was still doing ok and you were back at the box, hand digging into the toys you'd bought together, wine drunk on Amazon.

A memory of those giggles as you had pointed out nipple clamps to San had you reaching for the slim chain, turning to face your boyfriend so you could see the needy gleam in his eyes as you held up the two small clamps.

"I'd almost forgotten about these babies." You laughed lowly, seeing throb in his lower body as he obviously remembered the night you'd tried them on.

The clench of your inner walls had you turning back to the box, dropping the tiny clamps and grabbing the leather switch. A keening whine fell muffled from San's lips as you stood up, the small leather tab on the end of the thin and flexible rod tapping against your thigh as you circled your boyfriend before coming to a stop in front of him.

"Does it hurt, Sannie?" The degrading words fell like velvet in the quiet room, and a shudder ran through San's body as you used the switch to caress his dick. You figured he'd been hard for a while and since he had refused to bring himself to orgasm after using your body thoroughly last night, he was probably desperately to get his release. But you also knew that San liked to deprive himself sometimes, so with a smirk, you stepped in closer, bringing your face close to his so you could hear the hitch in his breath as you raked your nails down his belly. That hitch turned into a needy whine when you took him in hand, fingers gently squeezing him. "Is my little Sannie aching to cum? Or does he want to play a little more?"

Setting a slow and steady pace with your hand, you dipped your head to place kisses on his neck, paying special attention to the places that had muffled moans falling from San's mouth, drool starting to pool at the edge of his lips, the ball gag doing its job in keeping his from whining.

When you could feel his heartbeat against your lips, and the cock in your hand twitched and started to sweel, you knew San was close. In a split second your hand went from stroking to clenching him around the base, and San almost collapsed against you as you denied him his orgasm.

A high pitched whine broke through the gag and when you met San's pleading gaze, eyes watering slightly from the pain of being denied, your other hand deftly undid the strap around his head and the ball gag to the floor.

"Mistress, please." San begged through panting breaths, chest heaving.

"Please what, Sannie?" You asked playfully, knowing full what he wanted. Making him ask for it was part of the fun though, and you knew that just as much as he loved making you beg, he loved it when you made him beg.

"Please, Mistress, I need -." The words died into a guttural groan as you slid back down his length, fingers alternating in pressure as you almost milked his cock.

"Tell me what you want." You hissed into his ear, eliciting a full body shiver from your boyfriend.

"I want to cum, Mistress!"

The needy cry fell from San's pink lips and with a quick rough kiss that had your teeth cracking against each others, almost splitting a lip, you whispered into his mouth. "Good boy."

Dropping to your knees, you sank all of him into your mouth in one go, nose pressed against his belly. The noise that came out of San was one that you would remember forever, something between a moan of pleasure, a cry of relief and something that was purely sexual.

Keeping your gaze locked with his as you bobbed your head on his cock, your thighs rubbed together in a needy movement, but when, with a quick snap of his arms, San freed his wrists from the restraint and buried his hands in your hair, cradling your skull as his hips started to snap forward. Having tied his wrists loose on purpose, knowing you'd end up on your knees in front of him, you hummed low in your throat on a particularly deep thrust that sent him deep in your mouth.

Catching the slack jawed stare on San's face as he essentially used your mouth to reach his peak, you braced your hands on his thighs as his hips started to stutter.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck." The words almost a mantra, you ignored the tears leaking from your eyes as San lodged himself deep in your mouth, his release shooting and hitting the back of your throat as the words turned into a groan, his head falling back as his eyes rolled up into his head.

Fighting to keep from gagging at the salty taste, you kept him in your mouth till you were sure he was done, only moving when his hands slid from your hair. Gasping for breath, you caught San as he collapsed next to you, chest heaving from the orgasmic high he was still riding.

Quietly getting up from the ground, you shimmied out of the outfit and grabbed a blanket from the bed, the chill from the air conditioner kicking on evident as both San's and your skin erupted into gooseflesh. Draping the blanket over San's prone form, you cuddled up next to him, grinning into his chest as he wound his arms around you in turn.

"You ok?" You asked quietly once his breathing evened out, finger drawing a senseless design on his chest.

"Never been better." San mumbled, eliciting a chuckle from you. "You?" He asked sleepily.

"I can't wait to see how tomorrow's Devil Hour is going to go."

#ateez #ateez san #choi san #ateezsmut #smut #ateez smut #san smut

138 notes · View notes

jerkbitchidjitassbutt · 5 years

Text

No One’s Gonna Love You (3-Fin)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

A/n: I found a “starters” post on pinterest… and here is the resulting mini series. Key line: “I need to stop kissing strangers and pretending they’re you.” Mostly angst, but fluff also. *Google Image not mine (edited). Warnings: cursing, angst.

< My Masterlist / Part 1 / Part 2

“I need to stop kissing strangers and pretending they’re you…”

Dean’s expression had shifted from what looked like confusion to anger to hurt, but it wasn’t much of a thought to you at the moment. Tequila was a bitch of a lover that had slapped you into to stupor one time too many, and at this time only had you wanting your fluffy blanket and soft pillows.

“Whatever. Its fine.” You huffed, sniffling and less than gracefully pulling yourself up from the bathroom floor as Dean sat silently. “I’m going to head to bed. Night, Dean.”

He watched as you swung the glass of ice water by your thigh and shuffled into the hallway, no longer stumbling, but not moving too quickly either, with your feet scuffing against the tile the whole way. When he heard your door shut, he lifted himself off the floor and shrugged out of his flannel as he retreated to his own room, directly across from yours.

“I’m such an idiot.” He grumbled, tossing his clothes into the hamper and climbing beneath his sheets. It wasn’t even that late, but his body and mind were in a blank state of confusion as he basically operated on autopilot.

How could he have been so blind? He replayed a million memories and words spoken and counted all the ways he’d missed it over all the years you’d been his best friend.

All the years he’d been in love with you.

……

You woke up the next morning to a light tapping at your bedroom door. Grunting, you ripped the comforter from above your head, dragging some of your hair over your face in the process.

“Yeah?” you yelled, only then hating yourself for doing so and holding a hand to your head to ease the pounding.

Dean opened the door, a cup of coffee in his hand and two small plastic bottles in the other.

“Good mornin’.” He said, walking slowly to your side of the bed. He was in a pair of sweatpants and what looked like the V-neck he wore last night, his hair ruffled and a small amount of 5 o’clock shadow appearing on his chin and cheeks.

“Here. Coffee, cream and sugar, aspirin, and your weird necessity, mouthwash.” He said, handing you all the items and a small paper cup. Sitting up in bed, you quickly rinsed your mouth, spitting the contents into the plastic cup oh-so-attractively, before taking the aspirin and a gulp of the coffee.

“Thanks. You know how I am after drinking, can’t stand the taste of it anymore.”

He chuckled, “Yeah. I know.” He sat gingerly next to you before prying the mug of life making glory from your hands. You wined a bit when he set it on the table, confused as to why he would do such a thing. “Sweetheart, what do you remember about last night?” Dean asked, his green eyes sincere and gentle.

Your eyes widened as your heart plummeted into your stomach. “Oh, fuck.” You said, panicking as the memories flooded into your newly sobered brain. “Dean… listen, what I said… just forget it, okay? Please? Its not like its gonna change anything, alright?”

“I can’t do that, Y/n.”

Your heart sunk into your chest. Your bottom lip quivered and you tore your eyes away from him. He knew. He knew you loved him and it was going to ruin everything the two of you had. You’d have to move out of the bunker and hunt on your own. You’d screwed everything up so badly because of your stupid feelings and stupid tequila.

Just as the tears were about to spill, Dean slid closer, “Y/n, look at me.”

“No.”

“Look at me, sweetheart.” He said pointedly, tucking his hand gently against the swell of your cheek and turning your face to his. When you met his eyes, his hand stayed put, the pad of his thumb running softly along the apple of your cheek. “I’m so sorry—“

You shook your head viciously, already conceding that this was an easy let down speech. “Dean, like I said. Its fine! I’ll pack my stuff and be out by the end of the day.” you cried, pushing his hand from your face. You squirmed in bed, trying to kick the covers away from your legs and failing entirely. Tears were streaming down your cheeks as you tried to make an escape.

Dean chased after you; clawing at your hands in an attempt you halt your exit.

“Damnit, Y/n, will you just listen to me?” Dean yelled lightly.

“Why won’t you just leave it alone? I already know everything you’re going to say.”

It never occurred to you to actually let the man speak. Your brain and heart were in full-blown panic mode and your body was doing what it thought was best; running—or trying to at least.

Dean gripped you by the hips and spun you to him with fury, “Y/n Y/m/n! Stop. Talking.”

You gulped a thick breath as he clutched you in his arms. Your short-clad legs shook with a mixture of fear and anticipation as Dean’s body held you against him, unwavering and steady. He kept his arm snug around your waist until he was sure you weren’t backing away anymore.

He cautiously raised his hands to your cheeks and began slowly wiping the tears with his fingertips, “Y/n, earlier… it occurred to me while you were in your drunken haze that I never asked you a question. A rather important one that I’d like to ask you now, if that’s okay. Just once, for the record... No one else, no alcohol... just you and me.”

Your brows knitted together in confusion as he continued to caress your face with his hands.

He looked deep into your eyes, his green ones shining in the dim light of your room, “Sweetheart… Y/n, do you love me?”

“What?” was all you could manage to whisper.

He sighed, taking a moment to search your features. “I love you, Y/n. I fell for you a long, long time ago. After you saved my ass for the first time with guns blazing and before you started taking care of me and Sammy. I’ve never wanted anyone else; it was you the whole time. After yesterday, I… I couldn’t even pretend with someone other than you. I just suck at telling the truth sometimes.” He chuckled, causing you to exhale as your limbs became weak.

“This is real? You love me?” you asked.

“I do.” He said simply and earnestly.

You slowly closed your arms around his waist, “Then kiss me.”

He searched your eyes for a long moment, sensually tracing the curves of your face. Your tongue ran across your lips before you hoarsely whispered, desperately, “Please?”

Dean softly ran his thumb along the curve of your bottom lip before pulling you gently by the nape of your neck, “Come here.” He sighed.

He softly pressed his plump lips against yours. It was gentle and sensuous. A light brush, and then another, before he molded his mouth around yours urgently, his large hand enveloping the arc of your jawline. A quick, gentle nip of his teeth and he was pulling away, a low whimper escaping your lips as he smiled down at you.

“I’m sorry it took me so long, Y/n.”

“I’m sorry I had to get drunk to tell you, Dean.” You giggled.

“Well…” he smirked, hoisting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. “What do you say we make up for lost time?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Sounds perfect to me.” You ran your fingertips along his scruff, one arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders, “I love you, Dean.”

He exhaled a deep breath as he looked up at you, eyes glistening with adoration.

“No one’s gonna love you more than I do, Y/n. I promise.”

< My Masterlist / Part 1 / Part 2

351 notes · View notes

forestwater87 · 5 years

Text

The Jungle (Day 4 of Gwenvid Week 2019)

Gwen has to go into the city alone to propose an idea to Camp Corp. It was supposed to be an easy, unexciting trip.

It wasn't.

(Gwenvid Week 2019, Day 4: Whump/Comfort)

(an unofficial companion on S4E12, “The Forest”)

Chapter 1

“I know you’ll be just great, Gwen!” David took her by the shoulders and gave her a smile that was way too happy for 5:30 in the morning (and should not have made her feel just the tiniest bit brighter, but she’d long resolved herself to the fact that David had that effect on people). “And just think: after this, we can just focus on making Camp Campbell the very best it can be!”

What did he think she was going all the way to their offices for? It wasn’t for her fucking health, that was for sure. But she bore his optimism with the best grace she could muster before the sun was up -- namely, sighing and not kicking him in the shins.

“Now, do you have everything?” The Campmobile was broken -- Gwen was inclined to blame Max and the other two, but David was convinced it was “just something mechanical” that he’d be able to fix despite his complete lack of interest in cars -- and QM, the only one of them who knew how to drive the bus, had disappeared on some sort of mysterious retreat that neither of them had wanted any details about. Which meant she had to walk into town and from there take a regular, crowded, non-school bus into the city to make her 9:00 meeting with Camp Corp. (She’d initially suggested a taxi or Uber or something, but then looked in both the camp budget and her bank account and decided that wasn’t going to happen.) She’d change into her heels and interview suit in the bathroom and then blaze into that meeting and charm the Campwells’ attorneys into hopefully partnering with them as an “independent Camp Pals partner camp” -- which mostly just meant “you give us a bunch of money and we’ll use it to do our thing and you can take credit for anything we don’t royally screw up” -- after which she’d triumphantly cram herself back onto the next overstuffed bus of sweaty assholes and be home in time to collapse in bed and not move for at least 14 hours. To facilitate this plan, David had insisted on packing her a hiking bag complete with a change of clothes, three water bottles, and enough granola bars to feed the entire city. (He’d tried to sneak in an extra pair of socks and a first-aid kit before she’d told him if he made her bag any heavier she’d clobber him over the head with it.) “I know it’ll be chilly at first, but make sure you stay hydrated anyway! Dehydration can --”

“Got it, David. I usually run the First Aid camps, remember? That’s my speech.”

“Well, okay!” He hovered around her anxiously as she tugged on her boots and hooked her purse onto the backpack. “And just remember, I know things didn’t go all that great last time, I’ll have my phone all day! If you find yourself getting nervous, or starting to feel like -- like you might sell the camp --”

Gwen rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything.

“-- you just give me a call!” He looped an arm around her shoulder, squeezing her against his side painfully. “Remember, Gwen, we’re a team!”

“Yeah, got it,” she grumbled, extricating herself from his grip. She made it to the cabin door when she was suddenly hit with a wave of nervousness, turning around to see David standing where she’d left him, his hands clasped in front of his chest and his smile bright and a little wavery. She put her hand on the doorframe, focusing her gaze on the pine tree clock above his shoulder to avoid having to meet his earnest gaze (and the way her chest tightened at the sight of it). “Seriously, though, thanks.”

His grin steadied and widened, and he gave her the Camp Campbell salute. “Any time, Gwen! Now go get ‘em!”

She didn’t return the salute, but she was smiling as she closed the door and headed off into the very early morning.

---

“Jesus.” Gwen collapsed onto the bench outside Sleepy Peak’s sole bus stop, tipping her head back toward the muted sunlight that had begun stretching tendrils across the sky. It was actually a rather nice walk, but ever since she’d taken over the business-and-paperwork side of running the camp, she’d kind of let herself fall out of shape, and she was just relieved the morning was a relatively cool one. She lifted her ponytail off the back of her neck, enjoying the cool air on her sweaty skin just long enough to feel the pinch of a mosquito. “Fuck!” An old lady approaching the stop jumped, shooting Gwen a wary look like she was rabid. “Sorry,” she muttered. “Just . . . you know, waiting for the bus.”

She nodded, taking a seat on the other side of the bench. “I’ve been taking this bus every day for the last fifty years.”

Oh, god, that sounded like the beginning of a conversation. “Neat,” she said, hoping her “please dear god don’t talk to me anymore” voice was obvious enough. She pulled out her phone and sighed with relief; at least the bus would be here soon.

“It started when my husband Edward lost his job at the silicone implant factory. ‘No good would come from changing the gifts God gives,’ I said when he took the job, and you know I was just right. That factory burned down in 2007, and I think the foreman -- he was a dear friend, the foreman; that’s how Ed was offered a place in the factory in the first place. Factory jobs weren’t common even in those days, and lord knows they’re all but gone now, so you better believe he thought he’d gotten lucky when old Jimmy Fitsimmons called! Dear Jim is now working at a packing plant in Missouri, and you know Missouri is just beautiful most of the year -- but goodness, the winters are rough. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing, Jimmy, with those winters,’ I told him, but he and his wife Enid were determined to make the best of it, and we’ve even been down to see their home. It’s small, you know houses just aren’t as easy to pay for as they used to be, and my Ed and I are very lucky to still have the home we bought as newlyweds -- and oh, that is a funny story! You see, my father . . .”

---

“-- oh goodness, where was I? That’s right, Edward lost his job at the silicone implant factory. So I said, ‘Edward, I’ll have to help you get back on your feet,’ and he didn’t like the idea of me working -- he’s an old-fashioned man, my Ed, but times were changing then and still are now; you young people might think we don’t pay attention, but we --”

“Wow, the bus sure is running late, isn’t it?” Gwen interrupted, glancing at her phone for the third time in the last ten seconds. She was supposed to have a full half hour once she got into the city to make herself look less like a swamp monster, but she was starting to wonder if she’d have to run straight from the bus to the meeting in her sweat-soaked camp clothes. “Wonder where it is?”

“Oh, don’t worry, my dear,” the old woman said, taking a long sip from her thermos. “It’ll be along any minute now; I should know, I’ve been riding this bus every day for the last fifty years, ever since --”

“Great. I just kinda have an appointment to get to, so . . .” She tapped her fingertips on her knees, trying not to panic. Panic made her break out, and she probably didn’t have time to put on the makeup she’d packed in her bag, so she needed to have a nice clear Dove-commercial face for this meeting.

“It’ll be here,” she said, and Gwen forced herself to take a deep breath. Deep, soothing breaths, like she’d learned during those six weeks she’d taken yoga. In through the nose, out through the mouth; breathe out stress and negative self-talk, breathe in positivity and healing . . .

“Unless, of course, they’ve canceled the run,” the old woman added casually, and Gwen nearly choked on the positivity and healing.

“Wait, what?” she managed, coughing past the swallowed air. “Canceled it? You mean they just don’t show up?”

She nodded. “It happens sometimes, in a town as small as this one. On those days we just have to wait for the next one to come along.”

Gwen couldn’t exactly afford to wait for the next one, not that she seemed to have much choice. Maybe if they cut one of tomorrow’s camps, they could stretch out the supplies enough to afford a single lousy cab ride . . . “When’s the next bus?” she asked, holding up her phone and cursing the lack of a signal.

“There’s a schedule down outside the general store.”

I thought you did this every goddamn day for fifty years, she thought, grinding her teeth. But the store was a straight shot down Main Street; she’d never be out of sight of the bus stop. “Don’t let them leave without me!” she called to the old woman before half-jogging, half-running down the road to the general store.

Of course there were a thousand fliers papered all over the store’s windows, and of course the schedule was buried under a months-old announcement for a “xmas family fun fest!!!” But another bus should be arriving in . . .

The bus blew past her, barrelling like a runaway freight train toward the stop at the other end of the street. “Hey!” Gwen broke into a sprint, the rising sun searing as she tried to reach the bus stop in time. She tripped over a rock, hitting the dirt road face-first and seeing stars as she scrambled to her feet. “Fucking -- hey!”

The bus started pulling away, and she tried to force her body to run even faster despite the stitch forming below her ribs and the throbbing sting where her knees, chin, and palms had scraped the road; she swiped one hand across her face and it came away bloody. That old bitch hadn’t even told the bus to wait thirty seconds! After she’d pretended to listen to that whole goddamn story about Jim and Ed and whoever the fuck else . . .

It finally stopped just at the edge of town, its engine growling impatiently as she staggered up to it. The driver stared at her for a long moment before opening the doors, his expression blank.

“I was at the bus stop,” she panted, dropping her money into the till. “I’d been there for half an hour.”

The driver shrugged. “I coulda just kept going, lady.”

She resisted the urge to flip him off and just continued onto the bus, which was somehow completely full even though she was pretty sure Sleepy Peak didn’t even have this many people. They weren’t even the last stop before the city, which meant it was only going to get more crowded.

Great.

She squeezed in between a family of six and a young businessman, grabbing onto the overhead bar just as the bus started moving again; one of the children stumbled into her, jabbing his elbow into her side and clinging to her backpack with sticky fingers.

“Whoa!” A lanky young man leapt out of his seat, gesturing for her to take his place. She sat down with a grateful smile, her legs starting to feel like jello after all the abuse they’d taken that day. Thank god there were still some decent people out there.

She opened her mouth to thank him when he shook his head at her and added:

“Just keep your arms down, girl. You stink.”

Mortified, Gwen dropped her gaze, searching for literally anything to look at that wasn’t involved in this conversation when she noticed that she was somehow seated right next to the old bitch who hadn’t held the bus for her. She smiled at Gwen serenely, like she hadn’t just been the cause of all this bullshit.

“You look familiar, my dear,” she said. “Have we met?”

“Nope,” Gwen replied shortly, preparing to disappear into her phone when the woman continued.

“Well, I’ve seen so many faces. I’ve been riding this bus every day for the last fifty years, you know. Ever since my husband Edward lost his job at the silicone implant factory . . .”

She dropped her head into her hands and prepared to spend the rest of the bus ride trying not to exist.

Keep Reading

#campcamp #camp camp roosterteeth #cc gwen #gwenvid #gwenvidweek #gwenvidweek2019 #gwenvidweek3 #forestwriting #not sure how i feel about this one #i love love love the concept #but i'm not confident i executed it all that well #but hey #that's for you to decide i guess #so much whump #angst #hurt/comfort

46 notes · View notes

cyanpeacock · 5 years

Text

Here’s a dark fable. The moral of the story... is yours, to tell me, if you’d like.

In the jungles of Bangladesh, lived a peacock.

He had lived in luxury since he was a chick. His mother was kind. She was attentive. She always brought him food, and when there was not enough, she went without while her children feasted. His father was around, and chirped to him consolingly in the hard times, and crowed with joy in the good ones.

Still, this peacock was unhappy.

He was angry, and rude, and brash to the other peacocks. Once, he kicked another chick out of the nest, so he could have more food when he was already full of delicious grubs!

His mother was very disappointed in him.

How could this be? She had been so kind, so gentle, so careful to meet the every need of her chick. Why was he so cruel? Had she gone wrong, somewhere? Had she hurt him, somehow, while he rested in his egg? Could it be that he was... well, just not right?

The truth about this peacock, is that he was simply too sensitive.

He took the other chick glancing at his grub as a threat. He thought - that means he’s going to steal my food! I’ll teach him a lesson! I’ll take your food!

Of course, this was an overreaction, so far as any of the other peacocks were concerned. He summarily got exiled to the furthest corner of the nest, for bad behaviour.

This didn’t make the peacock feel any better.

In fact, he felt more threatened.

“Why are you doing this to me?!”, he asked himself. “What are you getting out of this?! Are you trying to starve me?! Are you trying to kill me?!”

These, of course, were some quite serious leaps of logic.

The peacock had prided himself on being a very logical creature.

“I’m much smarter than these other chicks,” he thought to himself, scuffing his little talons in the dirt. “I don’t know why I bother with them.”

He didn’t bother with them much. They couldn’t bother with him! He was so cruel when they jibed and joked and laughed, always taking it the wrong way, when they just wanted to have fun. This peacock never considered that while he was smart, he lacked - and had too much of - feeling.

Eventually, the time came for him to go into the world, alone, and find a mate.

He crowed the prowess of his mind from every treetop in Bangladesh. “I’m smart! I’m smart!”, he cried, absolute in his certainty his ‘intelligence’ would find him a mate.

No mate came.

The peacock, frustrated, went about his days with increasing resentment.

He had killed cobras to eat before, and this satisfied him. It was more of a challenge than picking berries from bushes, or buds from the branches. Still, he was angry as he ate.

One day, he was just passing by, in a mighty state. His fury was close to the boil.

The final straw was the sight of a cobra, crossing his path with an undue amount of pride in its slither.

The peacock, though he was not hungry, struck. He killed the snake, and found a horrible, wonderful feeling washing over him.

Such relief!

He took such delight in the act! He felt such power, such control! This could only be right!

Oh, couldn’t it.

So, this rude, cruel peacock had found his first hobby.

He killed cobras. Not all of them - that didn’t make any sense, though he thought about it. Surely at least some cobras were useful, if only to make more cobras. He just killed the ones he liked the look of.

This greatly disturbed the other peacocks. What kind of animal kills, not to eat, but for the joy of it?

They could not understand.

One peacock, a mystic type, crooned softly. He crooned that the killer was only making sure the insects had enough to eat.

The other peacocks summarily discarded both the mystic, and the killer, as quite mad.

Well - most of them did. Just one or two tilted their beaks to the sky, considered this, and found it to be... a good enough reason.

Then, they carried on.

This killing habit was of no benefit to our peacock.

It scared the other birds even more, and he grew very lonely, killing snakes, all on his own. No other peacock would listen to his cries in the mating season, or even chirp “hello” to him as he passed by in the canopy.

His loneliness made him jaded, and tired, and... lonely. He grew sloppy with his craft - leaving snakes alive and twitching, or wounded, and slither-limping away. Those who survived had quite the stories to tell, about a mighty blue God from the sky, that might strike to deliver judgement at any time. Repent for your sins, they hissed, lest He take you unawares.

Quite bored of his indecent conduct, unaware of his growing infamy, and in search of a thrill, the peacock came up with a plan.

“I’m going to find the biggest, meanest snake in this jungle, and I’m going to get him. I’m going to kill the meanest cobra in this entire place!”, he thought to himself, childishly, like a real grown-up.

So, he went about, and searched around, and looked very hard for something.

The other peacocks were unnerved by this change in his behaviour.

Their snake-killer was not... well, killing snakes, any more?

Perhaps this was good.

“What are you doing?”, the bold ones chirped to him, wondering if their cousin had lost his mind so completely, he’d become incapable of fending for himself.

“Oh, nothing,” said the killer, quite intent on executing his plan.

The peacocks left him alone again, satisfied he probably did know what he was doing, and equally satisfied that they probably didn’t want any part in his madness.

Eventually, our peacock came across the biggest, meanest, shiniest, strongest-fanged cobra in the entire jungle.

He was huge. His scales were black, and shone like the night-time, with its stars gleaming with power. His teeth were white, and hollow, and strong. On his neck he bore a great cape, bearing splendid eyes that gazed out remorselessly, to intimidate any threat that might come his way.

He was perfect.

Quite mad, quite engrossed, and quite obsessed, our peacock stalked his chosen prey. He ignored all else for his purpose, in fact. He gathered information - where does he slither, when does he rest, where could I hide?

One day, the opportunity came.

The cobra was quite unawares, just like in the stories others told, of the great blue God from the sky - the stories he had never taken seriously, in his fat and happy ease. He was full, and sleepy, and very tired, so he curled up in a shallow hole in the dirt, pleased and intent on digesting his meal.

The peacock struck. He fell from the sky, vicious, victorious, and burning.

The cobra heard a great crashing as he burst through the underbrush, all too late.

He was bewildered by the sight before his eyes - who is this? Who is this skinny, mangy, louse-bitten bird, with his feathers all ragged and his eyes a-blazing? Does he need something to e--

The peacock sank his bill into the cobra’s neck, and a horrible realization came over the snake.

So, it was his time to be eaten.

The peacock relished in it. He bathed in bliss in his first taste of blood, in what seemed like a lifetime.

As he was fading, the cobra hissed.

“You know,” he slurred, around his fangs and dying breath, “I could have told you where to find easier prey.”

And with that, he was gone.

The peacock froze.

Two hearts were no longer beating.

Only one started again.

Why wasn’t he scared?

Why didn’t he fight?

Why... why would a cobra tell him where to find easier prey?

The peacock’s mind raced so fast, it went entirely blank.

This, he thought to himself, was not how it was supposed to be!

No! No-- impossible! Where was the struggle?! Where was the glory?! Where was the valiant battle, and the splatters of blood?! Where was the rush?!

Why did he feel so empty?

The peacock heard, again, the words of the dying snake.

“I could have told you where to find easier prey.”

Was that a threat?

Did he know it was going to be like this?

No. No snake could know the future. Not even the mystic knew the future.

This cannot be.

The peacock began to dwell. He began to obsess, over a new and different thing. No longer was he interested in the senseless murder of snakes, or even the love of a mate he had once crowed for so enthusiastically. No - he had to find an answer. He had to know.

Why?

So, once again, he went quite mad.

He flew from treetop to treetop, crowing, and squawking, and entirely silent. He jabbered in tongues at the insects on the ground, and nodded as though they’d given him meaning. He even dared to approach the monkeys, who snatched at his tail feathers and bared their teeth in rage, and he flew away screaming in something that wasn’t delight.

Why? Why? Why?

The other peacocks, again, grew quite worried. Even the bold were too scared to approach the strange one when he was like this.

They consulted the mystic.

“The strange one - it’s not well, again.” they said.

“What is he saying?”, asked the mystic.

“Well, nonsense.”

“No, no,” said the mystic. “What is he saying? What is he repeating?”

Clarification was sometimes necessary, for the mystic. Not all of them understood saying. The ones who did... tended to remain silent.

“Errrm... it sounds like... a whole lot of, why?”, the peacocks said.

“Ah.” said the mystic. “Then... there is no hope for him.”

This, the other peacocks found disturbing.

They were also disturbed by the mystic, and its solitary, jumbled nest, and the way it called its brown feathers “blue”.

So, they left, confused, and troubled, but able to go on with their lives.

The mystic did not know there was no hope for the killer. Indeed, he believed this change might mean an awful lot of hope. Really, he just wanted the other birds to get out of his nest. Or did he? Perhaps there was a reason for that... the mystic did an awful lot of wondering.

The killer was in a bad way.

His feathers were falling out. His eyes were dull, and lit with an insane spark. Even the lice had all but abandoned his thin and un-nourishing blood.

“No, no, no,” he muttered to himself, and the leaves. “No, no, no. That’s not it. That’s not why he said it. He wasn’t trying to be nice. He was trying to screw with me. Wasn’t he?”

The leaves whispered that yes, he was trying to be nice, killer.

“Why?! Why?!” cried the peacock. “He’s a cobra. Why be nice to a peacock?!”

“Well... because he wasn’t very nice to the other cobras,” whispered the leaves.

“Killer,” murmured a berry.

“No, no, no. No. No! No-- no!! No.” hollered the bird. “That makes no sense. I’m a peacock. He’s a cobra. We’re mortal enemies!”

“Are you?”, whispered the leaves. “He wanted you to eat, too.”

“No,” the peacock muttered, again. “No. No! This cannot be! Why?!”

He screamed. He hollered. He cried, and he yelped, and he tore at the bushes to try and silence their horrid words, screeching senselessly the entire time. He savaged the bush, for no good reason, and found this act only made the screaming in his head grow louder.

The bush had been silenced. It had been destroyed, in fact, and it had disturbed the entire neighbourhood in the process of being reduced to fungus food.

The peacock fared no better.

He couldn’t understand. He was enraged. He was sick. He was so full of despair his mind was burning. He-- he was guilty?

For the first time in his short, cruel, life, our murderous friend felt guilty.

He abhorred it.

It abhorred him.

An idea came into his mind.

It was ugly.

It was dreadful, in fact.

It was the only way.

The next day, the peacocks woke up to the dawn, and found a terrible thing.

It was the body of the killer, draped carelessly, with such awful ease, his broken neck and battered feathers swaying gracefully in the hot breeze.

The chicks screamed in horror. Even the adults cried, mouths agape. His form was in disrepair - wilted, abused, thinner than any bird they had ever seen. It was awful to behold.

“Why? Why?” sobbed his mother, to the mystic.

“Ah, no. Another one.” thought the mystic, to himself.

“I can tell you,” he said, in the kindest way he could.

“Tell me. Tell me.” the mother begged. “Tell me why this happened to my son.”

The mystic, who had been wide awake that night, had watched the killing chick fly high into the sky, a higher flight than he had ever seen any peacock take before.

Then, he had simply let himself fall, and did not spread his wings to catch himself.

“Your son killed himself.” he stated, simply, kindly, gently.

This did not console the mother.

She sobbed, and sobbed. The mystic waited with her, gently, for this wave of the grief to pass.

“Why?” she asked, when her body had stopped shaking. “Why?”

“Your son was a bad bird.” stated the mystic, not unkindly.

“Yes,” the mother agreed. “But surely he didn’t deserve... he only killed snakes! Never a bird!”

“Why did he kill them?”, asked the mystic. “You knew him well. Tell me.”

The mother hesitated.

“Well... to eat them, and...”

She couldn’t say it.

“For fun?”, supplied the mystic.

“Yes,” said the mother, with a weary heart, and damp eyes. “For fun.”

“Then that is perhaps why.”

“But he’d done it before! He’d done it his whole life! Why now?! What changed?!”, cried the mother.

Ignoring “his whole life,” the mystic supplied an answer.

“Perhaps he met a snake... who was kind to him, before he passed.”

This confused the mother, deeply.

In fact, she was at a loss for words.

The mystic smiled softly, remembering earlier times.

“A snake... who was kind, to a peacock?” she asked, like she was but a chick.

The mystic’s heart rose, and fell, and rose again. Of course, there was hope for this one.

“They exist, you know.” he said.

“I...” began the mother, confused.

“You need time. I understand.”

This, the mystic knew, was the end of the conversation.

The mother left the nest of the mystic in a daze, as many of the mystic’s visitors did. The other peacocks gave her a wide, respectful berth as she passed.

When she was gone, the mystic turned to himself.

“Why did he go that way?” he wondered.

“His pain. It was too great. He saw no choice but to do it himself.”

He pondered this, for just a moment.

“What made it that way?”

He thought of the broken body he had seen, and the exceeding emptiness of his dead eyes, and the many birds - especially the chicks - who would need words, any words, to make sense of what they had witnessed.

He thought of the life of the proud, stupid, clever chick, who had never believed, and always questioned.

“Perhaps he did meet a kind snake. Perhaps... a kind word, from a strange place, was all it took to throw his universe into doubt.” thought the mystic.

“That... and the wondering.”

The mystic made a face. That dead bird, as a chick, had never visited his nest. He had never learned how to live with the wondering.

The mystic, whose life was all about wondering, shook his head, crest bobbing with the motion. He couldn’t help his judgement, but then, this kind of wondering was not for all birds either, was it? He had been, and would be, judged in turn.

“There were things left unresolved,” the mystic told himself.

“He’ll get... another chance.”

The mystic didn’t know this. Not all the birds believed they came back, as something new, after they were gone. Indeed, not even the mystic believed this, not all the time.

He just had a feeling.

Whether it was right, or wrong, it simply happened.

#fliptext #suicide #murder #i mean like #it's about cute animals but it's dark

1 note · View note

stormregard · 5 years

Text

The House is on Fire

If the house is on fire

You gonna run for the door

Yasha was afraid. It's an uncommon feeling. She lives strictly by the rule of going into battle with a healthy amount of fire in her soul, balanced by the tiniest kernel of fear. Fear kept your emotions sharp. It brought your reactions to the surface. It even seemed to help her Rage.

But right now, she knows she's in trouble because she isn't afraid. She is resigned. It's far more deadly than fear. The dead inside her. The shadows. She hadn't felt this way since losing her. Not since she was a child and forced into the battle ring.

The calm that has overwhelmed her senses was not pain or anguish or anger. It was just emptiness. And she cannot find a way to escape it. Not even here, standing beside these people, the ones she keeps coming back to. The first people she's come back to since...

"Yasha!" Beau called again. Her body reacted, sent her into action at the sound of her name. She whirled fast and lethal, taking down three gnolls before she'd even taken a new breath. But it felt like nothing.

Later, as they cleaned up and settled in, she found herself alone in a small, damp bed staring at the ceiling. She knew why she was broken, why she had fallen apart. The knowing just didn't help. Instead, she felt it welling up inside of her again; the desire to follow him, to leave, to search. She was fighting it for all she was worth; Yasha was very much done with leaving people behind. But that tick in her heart and the tug in her abdomen was only ignorable for so long.

If the door is on fire

You gonna kneel on the floor

Beauregard played the long game — most of her bravado was real. She’d earned it the hard way, through tough fights and gained knowledge, through expertly contained emotions and a genuine personality of not giving a fuck. At the same time, though, it was important to her that had her share of heartbreak that weighed her down in the quiet hours. She didn't think about it, didn't let it render her incapable of speech or action. Still, she'd been hurt.

The way Beau thought about it, it hardly mattered how tough you were or how easily you brushed off emotions and slights; she was human. She had feelings. People fucked with them more often than she let on. Her father, as a starting point, but that was hardly original. It was harder when her chosen companions found ways to stab beneath her carefully crafted armour and candour.

Caleb, for example, had found the way to wound her more than once. By being himself. By not trusting her. She knew his game, understood his motivators; she shared quite a bit of his mistrust and scepticism. It didn’t make it hurt less when he didn’t choose them back, when he backpedalled on the Nein or created reasons for screwing them over out of self-preservation alone. The day she’d finally snapped at him still rang in her mind at night when she was tossing and turning her way through a restless night’s sleep.

Jester never meant to hurt her; she was full of smiles and kind words, compliments that Beau was positive she didn’t deserve. And sometimes, without her meaning to, a tiny sliver of this positivity would needle its way beneath Beau’s skin and cause her pain. For the rest of the day, she’d wonder—unintentionally—if she’d responded to Jester’s affection the right way. If she’d been kind enough to others to deserve the love of the blue teifling.

Molly, when he’d been around, had been the least complicated of all of her newfound family; when he meant to hurt you, he showed it. When he didn’t, he explained himself and apologized without asking for anything in return. She hadn’t appreciated this enough about him at the time, and now he was gone. The transparency of Mollymauk was a rare gift. She missed it immensely.

Breaks in action were not her friend; she’d never admitted that to anyone, least of all herself, but it’s why she could always be counted on to escort Jester to another bakery or sneak Caleb into another library. She needed to keep moving, even if the goal was just cake.

Today, though, she also needed solitude. Her mind was playing tricks on her; she took her staff with her and told Fjord she’d meet him at the docks; confusingly, he did not question her. She took her cloak and headed to the roof. It wasn’t peaceful, not the way the ocean had been, but it was high and it was solitary. It took her ages to calm her mind enough to even consider that she might have lost her way. It wasn’t exactly meditation; she wasn’t foolish enough to think it was a good idea to try that again.

An hour passed as she watched the sun drift across the sky. The clay tiles beneath her grew warm and the heat of the day necessitated removing her cloak. She’d soon have to go down if she wanted to catch up with the group before they headed off. Noon, Fjord had arbitrarily decided.

Well trained reflexes had her crouching and ready to fight the moment she felt the shift in the air behind her.

“Hey,” Yasha’s soft voice muttered.

“One day I’m going to accidentally kill you,” Beau grumbled, settling back onto her bottom.

“I was about to say, ‘it’s me’, but you didn’t give me the chance. I should wear a bell,” Yasha replied, the lightness in her voice both teasing and accusatory.

Beau turned to study her face, but there was no point. Some people probably found it possible to read emotion on the Aasimar’s face, but that certainly didn’t include Beau, who found it hard enough to discern what people were feeling when they were blatantly yelling at her. Yasha frowned when she noticed Beau’s gaze.

“Fjord sent me. He said you had decided not to go to with them this morning. Seemed worried.”

“I’m fine,” Beau said quickly.

Yasha’s small smile returned. “Why do you do that? You are a very bad liar,” she teased, unmistakable this time.

Beau couldn’t help but return the grin. “Fine, but I’m not going to talk about it.” Yasha nodded and settled down beside Beau, her hulking form impossibly graceful on the clay tiles. Her stole was missing, an uncommon occurrence that made sense in the warm sun. Her hair was also braided down one side of her neck, the dreadlocks and tattered ends looped into an asymmetrical mass that reminded her pleasantly of tangled kelp. Beau lifted an eyebrow at the style, somehow sensing she didn’t even need to ask.

“Jester,” Yasha laughed, tugging on the braid, almost seeming self-conscious. “She found out I haven’t been sleeping all that well and… well, apparently we now have sleepovers.”

Beau laughed. “That is very Jester-like. Not sleeping?” “Not talking about it,” Yasha returned, arching an eyebrow back at Beau, who didn’t take the bait. She wrapped her arms around her knees and gazed back at the horizon.

For long moments, they sat this way. Quiet and lost in their independent thoughts.

“Do you…” Beau began. “Do you regret it?”

“I have many regrets,” Yasha whispered. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

That was what Beau had been afraid of. Specifics were not her strong suit.

“You know,” Beau repeated, gesturing vaguely between them. “Given what you...you told… I know they weren’t supposed to say anything but--”

“Relax,” Yasha implored, reaching out a hand and placing it lightly on Beau’s shoulder. “If I’d wanted a secret, I wouldn’t have told anyone. Least of all Jester. She’s too enamoured by you to really keep anything from you.” A spark of annoyance blazed through Beau; the implication that Jester wasn’t trustworthy wasn’t fair, not coming from Yasha. She shook it off but Yasha cleared her throat. “Beauregard, I didn’t mean—” “It’s fine,” Beau said gruffly. “I don’t,” Yasha continued. “I don’t regret it. I’m… the story is complicated. I lose people.” “We all lose people.” “We don’t all dismiss that as easily as you,” Yasha murmured, withdrawing her hand.

Beau bristled. The anger was back; at Yasha, sure, but it was more complicated than that. “Are you leaving then?” Beau hissed.

“What? No. Why would I—”

“That’s why you came to find me, isn’t it? So you can leave. What, do you need me to hold onto something for you?”

“Beauregard, you are really going to have to stop this if we are going to remain friends,” Yasha said starkly. Beau glared; it was the most direct Yasha had been with her in weeks.

“Stop what,” Beau seethed. “Believing everyone is going to leave you because you’re you.”

You get down low enough

You learn to love the flame

Yasha knew what she had said. And she knew what was going to happen when she said it. She didn’t for one moment regret it. She’d sought out Beau the moment she realized she was most likely on her own. She hadn’t actually spoken to Fjord, instead had watched the group depart from the inn that morning, lacking their troublesome monk. She’d waited until nearly noon to interfere with Beau’s solitude.

The reckless spark that she felt heading up onto the roof brought her untold joy; feeling, at long last, after weeks of absent fear, absent sadness. Reckless anger was exactly what she needed.

Beau wound up in a very obvious way. Obvious, perhaps, because Yasha was so used to fighting side by side with her. She had certainly never seemed predictable while fighting countless foes. Yasha saw the direction of the punches, of the whirling kick, before Beau even left her crouch, but she did not duck. Did not flinch. She merely held her ground, her arms flying up to her face protectively.

The flurry of blows still caught her in the collar bone, then her stomach, the kick pulling her legs from beneath her body so that she landed flat on her back and found she was staring up at Beau, whose face had gone almost purple in her instant fury.

“Hit me back,” she grimaced.

“No,” Yasha replied, rolling out from under Beau and standing up.

Beau spiralled left and was on her feet again a moment later, arms up and at the ready. “Hit. Me. Back. It’s been coming for weeks.” “No, it hasn’t,” Yasha shrugged. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks. Since I told them about...about her.” “Her name, Yasha.” Beau’s hands had suddenly fallen to her sides in an instant. Her pain was etched into her face. Yasha knew better than to believe Beau’s facade of strength and carelessness. The woman was hurt. Hurt by Yasha’s past hurts by secrets unintentionally kept between them. When Yasha had first noticed, there had been no guilt associated with the recognition. It wasn’t her place; they were not in a relationship, the sex was not promising anything more, and Beauregard was hardly one to judge others for being reserved and secretive.

“Yasha, say her name,” Beau repeated, watching the waffling on her face.

“I don’t need to,” Yasha whispered, her fists clenched by her sides. “I don’t need to because I am never without her.”

“You should have just told me to back off!” Beau yelled. “I didn’t need to be so… forward. We could have just…”

Yasha laughed, the cruelness of the sound surprising her. “Just what, Beauregard? Just fucked? Would that have worked with me, like it did with Keg? Would you have just let me use you and turn around? Are you really that callous?”

“You know I am,” Beau seethed.

“I know you like people to think you are.”

I've been loving you forever

But I never knew your name

So Yasha knew. Out of all the possibilities in front of her, Yasha knowing her secret had not entered into her musings. She wasn’t prepared.

“You seem surprised,” Yasha said, stepping towards her in the most gentle way she could possibly move. “But I don’t know why you would be. You’re stubborn and sometimes a bit careless, sure, but you wear your heart on your sleeve, Beauregard. Anyone who’s known you for five minutes knows that.” She advanced again but Beau crossed her arms tightly across her chest and scowled at the roof tiles.

“And I’ve known you a lot longer than five minutes,” Yasha concluded, reaching out to Beau and tucking a rogue piece of hair behind her ear. Her hand rested across Beau’s cheek and stayed there.

Beau’s heart stuttered and her chest ached; the feelings decided it for her. She jerked her head away from Yasha and began a careful retreat toward the window used to climb onto the roof. The sigh that followed her from Yasha was gentle, nearly silent, but definitely weary.

“Where are you going, Beau?” she asked gently.

“To meet up with the others,” Beau returned, gesturing to the sky above her before dropping down to the balcony. “It’s almost noon.”

More graceful than she should have been, as always, Yasha’s legs appeared beside Beau’s head as she sat on the roof. “So we’re just going to leave this conversation halfway through. Again.”

“There is no halfway, Yasha. It’s fine. I love you, you don’t love me. I’ll get over it. I’ll move on. Forgive me for the next few months. You’re fucking hot and I’m bad at controlling my face. There. Done. Happy?”

“You’re so quick to assume I don’t love you,” Yasha said sadly.

Beau ignored her and retreated into the inn, the window of the bedroom that she’d been sharing with Jester still ajar. She was quickly followed, but she didn’t pause in her attempt to escape. Suddenly, a hand shot out, gripping her upper arm. She tried to evade the grasp, succeeding at the last second only by whirling away.

“You made it clear you didn’t want this,” Beau accused. “I get why now. It’s fine. Don’t worry about me. I’m sorry I made things complicated.”

“They were always going to be complicated, but that doesn’t mean I don’t…” Yasha broke off and scrubbed at her face with her hands.

Quicker than breathing, Beauregard found herself thrown back against the wall, crushed up against it in fact; her skin was still so warm from sitting in the sun, and Yasha was not. When her hands rested on Beau’s exposed stomach, a violent shiver went through her. The kiss that followed was violent and perfect, lacking any restraint.

“I can love more than one person. I…” Yasha rested her head against Beau’s. “I’ll always love her. I think I loved Molly, though I had no idea what to do with that. You don’t have to stop feeling just because sometimes it hurts. I learned that a long time ago. It’s not safe, Beau. It’s not...strong. It’s just lonely.”

Beau cleared her throat. “I don’t want you to forget her.”

“I can’t. She’s here,” Yasha murmured, pulling Beau’s hand onto her chest. “But there’s room in there for more. Just be patient with me.”

“I swear I’ve been trying,” Beau insisted.

Yasha smiled sadly and leaned forward again. Without hesitating any further, she lifted Beau’s not-insubstantial weight like she was made of feathers, was carrying her more gently than Beau had ever been handled until her back hit the soft wool of the bed.

“They’ll leave without us,” Beau protested weakly.

“They wouldn’t dare,” Yasha whispered in her ear.

#beau/yasha #femslash february #fluffy angst #one shot #critical role #cr2 #critical role fanfic #beauregard lionett #yasha nydoorin #cr spoilers #technically there is a spoiler

34 notes · View notes

those70scomics · 5 years

Photo

This is a story I wrote five-ish chapters for out of eight (and outlined the story’s end). I very much doubt I’ll finish it. So I’ve decided to post what I’ve got, in its first draft and outline form.

Starring: Eric, Donna, Hyde, Jackie, Kelso, Fez, and Buddy Morgan.

Rated: T

Note: Like with all my fic, I’ll post one chapter a week. This is a first draft, so please pardon any awkwardly-worded sentences and what-not.

Light Beams and Rays Brushes from obsidiandawn.com

Links to the Rest of the Story: Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Outline for the End

Disclaimer: That '70s Show copyright The Carsey-Werner Company, LLC and Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, LLC.

CHAPTER ONE THE LEMNISCATE

Eric was supposed to sleep, but his bed had become a boat, traversing the vast ocean of memory. Its course was a figure-eight, an infinity symbol. The ceaseless back-and-forth nauseated him, but his hands lay helplessly on his stomach. Cold sweat dampened his back, or maybe the boat had sprung a leak. Either way, his back sank into his mattress, and the ceiling-sky blinded his eyes with the end and the beginning. Donna had returned his ring, his promise of forever.

She'd given him his first kiss, dooming his heart to a permanent, unbearable loss.

His blood heated with the inescapable images, fueling him enough to roll onto his side. He clutched his pillowcase and squeezed his eyes shut, but Donna was behind them, leaving eternity on the hood of the Vista Cruiser. His gold promise ring had blazed in the moonlight. It had burned his palm as his fingers closed around it. “God,” he said into the darkness of his room, “I wish we'd never kissed.” A strange wind swept over the bed, tickling the hairs on the back of his neck. His gaze fixed on the window, but it was closed. “Jeez,” a deep voice said, “what a drama queen.”

Eric rolled onto his back again and sat up a little. His pulse remained steady, despite the intruder standing at the foot of the bed. The man was broad-shouldered, overweight, and dressed in an all-white suit. He could’ve been Bob's fraternal twin, but Eric had never seen him before. “Who are you?” Eric said, though he must've fallen asleep. He had to be dreaming; otherwise, his heart would be thudding in his throat. Someone had broken into his room. That was plenty of cause for a freak-out, but Eric's breathing remained even. The intruder waved his hand in the air. “Let's go.”

Eric tried to muster a sense of panic. That was the normal response to a kidnapper, but no panic came, and he said, “Go where?” “Well, you said you wished that you'd never kissed her. I can show you what would've happened if you never did.”

The intruder had to mean Donna. Eric was definitely dreaming, and he sat up a little more in the bed. “What are you, like a genie?” The intruder's eyebrows flattened over his eyes. “Genies aren't real. I'm an angel.” “You're not an angel.” Eric had gone to church enough times to tell the difference. “You don't even float. Everyone knows angels float.” “Fine.” The intruder opened his arms wide and levitated several feet off the ground. White light radiated from his body, brightening every corner of Eric's room. It didn't sting Eric's eyes, though, and Eric applauded his subconscious. Its special effects were on par with Industrial Light & Magic's. “Eric Forman,” the intruder said, sweetening his voice, “God's favorite cherub, come with me, and I will release you of your suffering. Don't be afraid, little one.” Eric didn't move from the bed. This dream was approaching disturbing territory. “No offense,” he said, “but are you coming onto me?” The intruder lost his light, his float, and his sweetness. He glared at Eric and said, “Are you ready?” “Not under your terms. I know what would've happened if me and Donna never kissed: I'd lose all our bad times and the good.” Eric gestured dismissively. “Neither of us would be who we are today, blah, blah, blah.” No beginning meant having no ending, but he'd still be without Donna. Somewhere deep inside, he'd feel that absence, whether they'd kissed or not. He flung the covers off himself and jumped out of the bed. He stood face-to-face with the intruder, who smelled surprisingly like freshly-baked cookies. “If you really are what you say you are,” Eric said, “an angel, how about you do something to fix us — well, not us. Me and Donna.” “I can't do that.” “Then good night.” Eric slumped onto the bed and slid his feet beneath the sheets. “But you can.” “Yeah?” Shivers glided across his skin like tiny ice skaters. His instinct was to pull his sheets tightly around himself, but he kicked them to the floor. “Tell me.” “Here's the deal,” the intruder said. “I'll reset your relationship with Donna and all your friends. It'll be like they never met you, and you'll have one week to get a kiss from Donna. If you do, not by force but by choice, then your relationship with her will be fixed.” “Fixed-fixed? Like we never broke up?” “You'll be back together faster than you can say, 'God, I wished we'd never kissed.'” “And if I can't get her to kiss me?” Eric understood how these deals worked. They always had a catch, a horrible, horrible catch. “Are my lips gonna fall off?” The intruder laughed, as if he were privy to a punchline Eric would never get. “No, no. You'll just never get back together. Ever. No third chances. So, are you in?” “Sure, why not?” This was only a dream, after all, and had no actual consequences. Second chances, third chances ... they didn’t matter. Eric wouldn't get either in real life. If the intruder was offering him a few hours of non-misery, he might as well take it. “How do I get started?” “First, you stop calling me the intruder inside your head. It's annoying. Second, check the time.” Eric glanced at his clock-radio. It displayed 3:48 am. “Done and done ... angel guy.” “Now all you have to do is get back in bed.” “Oh, man! I knew this was too good to be true. The second I get into that bed, you're going to do something weird to me, aren't you?” The angel sighed. “Let me do my job, kid.” He patted Eric's cheek. The touch was gentle, but it sent Eric flying onto the bed. “Shut up, shut your eyes, and you'll wake up in your new, full-of-possibilities life.” “Right. If I shut my eyes, you'll...” Eric yawned. He fought to stay awake, but exhaustion overwhelmed his body, something he'd thought would never happen again. His eyes drifted closed, and gratitude filled him. Finally, he'd get some sleep ... but wasn't he already asleep? “No,” the angel whispered, and the last thing Eric felt was being tucked into his sheets.

Eric's eyes popped open to Big Star's “Thirteen”. His clock-radio had a nasty habit of choosing the worst songs to wake him. Day one after his breakup with Donna, and the first song he had to hear was theirs. A barrage of knocks on his door got him out of bed, but the door opened before he could get to it. He must have forgotten to lock it last night, and his subconscious had registered it. That explained his weird dream. “Eric, Eric!” his mom said and rushed into the room. “Breakfast's ready. I want you downstairs and eating in five minutes.” “Thanks, Mom, but I don't really feel like eating.” “Too bad, mister. I won't have you going to school on an empty stomach.” School? Today was the first day of summer break, but she left before he could object. It didn't matter. She'd realize her mistake when he didn't show for breakfast. He closed the door and reached for the slide lock. He had a fun day of staring up at the ceiling ahead of him — but the slide lock wasn't on his door. Neither were the holes he'd drilled to install the slide lock. “What the hell?” “Don't you mean, 'What the heaven?'” That was the angel's voice, and Eric turned toward it. The angel stood before him, wearing that all-white suit. “Welcome to the first day of your new life, Eric.” “No...” Eric slapped his own face. “Ow!” “You're not dreaming,” the angel said. “Let me catch you up. Your dad got transferred from an auto-parts plant in Janesville. Your family spent the last week moving into this house, unpacking boxes and the like. Today is your first day at Point Place High.” He clasped Eric's shoulder. “Make the most of it.” Eric rubbed his tender cheek. “That's cutting it close, isn't it? My family would never move to a new town a week before I had to start school.” “And you never thought you'd be talking to an angel, but here we are.” “Point taken. Anything else I should know?” “Plenty.” The angel grinned smugly. “I'll leave you to it.” “But—” Eric said, but the angel had disappeared. “Fine. Day one … of trying not to screw up my life again.” He went downstairs in his pajamas. The scent of bacon should’ve drawn him to the kitchen, but his appetite was buried six feet underground, along with his relationship with Donna. When he woke from this dream, no matter what he accomplished during it, he'd still be without her. “Okay, angel, I'm out,” he said by the swinging door. Indulging this fantasy wouldn't change anything. “Just let me wake up, and I'll get on with my next seventy years of misery.” “Sorry, no dice. We have a contract,” the angel said inside Eric's mind, and an invisible hand shoved Eric through the swinging door. “Well, look who it is,” Red said as Eric stumbled into the kitchen. “Don't think you're getting out of going to school just because you'll be new there. I have to start at a new plant today, supervising an assembly of dumbasses I've never met. So sit your butt down and eat.” Eric stared at his mom, who was pouring him a glass of orange juice. She must've told Red some story about Eric being nervous. “If you eat breakfast,” she said, “you'll get a nice surprise.” “Kitty, don't bribe the boy.” “It's not a bribe. It's encouragement.” Eric sat at the table. Whatever his parents were going on about, he didn't care. He plucked a piece of bacon from his plate and nibbled its corner off. “I don't know why you two are such Gloomy Guses,” his mom said. “I'm just so excited about starting at the hospital.” She went on about her new job as head nurse, and Eric managed to eat half the scrambled eggs on his plate and most of the bacon. His ability to swallow died, though, when Red said to him, “If you manage to make any friends today, don't go off anywhere with them after school. Your mom is making us meet the neighbors tonight—” “The Pinciottis,” Mom said. “I bumped into one of them yesterday—Midge. She seems nice. A little flaky but nice. They'd just gotten back from California—oh!” She patted the table with the flat of her hand. “Eric, they have a daughter who goes to Point Place High. You'll probably meet her there!” She laughed. “Wouldn't it be something if you two became friends? You could study together.” “Yeah, that's...” Eric squashed a lump of scrambled eggs with his fork. It squeezed through the fork tines, bleeding yellow. Red cleared his throat. “Okay, enough of this. Eric, your mother and I have been talking. Since the hospital is so close, I can take the Toyota to work and your mom can take the bus." ”Honey, honey, really, I'd rather walk,” Mom said, and Eric experienced a sense of déjà vu. His parents went into a lecture about car safety and “appropriate car use,” and at the end of it the Vista Cruiser's keys went flying over the table. They landed in Eric's eggs. “You're never going to make a sports team with those reflexes,” Red said. “That's it. I'm gonna run you through some drills after school—” “Leave him alone, Red. He's a nervous wreck, the poor thing.” Mom pulled the keys from the eggs and washed them in the sink. “Eric, get dressed and brush your teeth—and make sure your nails are trimmed and clean. You want to make a good impression on your new teachers. If you do that, you're sure to make friends.” “Yes, Mom.” Eric returned to his room. He had no plans on driving to school. Contracts made in dreams with figments of his subconscious weren't legally binding. They couldn't be. He headed for his bed and smacked into an invisible wall. “Hey!” He pushed his shoulder into what should've been air, but it felt like shoving against brick. “This is my dream, so I make the rules. And I say I'm going back to sleep.” He tried again to reach his bed, but his forehead crashed into the invisible wall. “Okay, I'll sleep on the floor.” He curled up on the carpet, but his head throbbed. Terrific. He had a headache in his sleep ... which would keep him from falling asleep? That made no sense. Nothing made sense. He pressed fingers into his temples and groaned. Air whooshed into his ears, sounding like a sigh. “You're one stubborn kid,” the angel said, and Eric opened his eyes. The angel was standing in front of the bed, arms cross over his chest. “You just have to have everything your way, don't you?” “My way?” Eric pushed himself off the floor, though his head pounded with every movement. “If everything went my way, Donna and I wouldn't have broken up. She'd be wearing my promise ring on her finger. Instead—“ Pain slammed into his skull, making him wince. “Instead,” he repeated, “I've got a stupid headache that won't let me fall back asleep in my own stupid dream.” The angel gestured to himself. “Come here.” Eric stepped toward him but wasn't sure if was under his own command. “What's your problem?” the angel said. “You. You're keeping me from my bed and getting on with the rest of my miserable life.” “Nah. That's not the problem.” The angel struck Eric's forehead with his palm. Eric staggered backward, but the pain in his head had stopped. “Wow.” Eric blinked a few times. “Thanks … even though you're the one who gave me the headache in the first place.” “Because you don't believe.” Eric glanced over the angel's shoulder to his bed. “Damn right I don't believe. I don't believe you're an angel. I don't believe I'm not dreaming. I don't believe—” His voice caught. “I don't believe Donna gave me back my ring, that — that she can see a future without me because...” His mouth went dry. He swallowed, but it didn't help. “Because I can't see a future without her.” “Do you believe there's any hope for you and her?” “I...” His gaze fell to his feet. His toes dug into the carpet, and he swallowed again, “No.” “And there's part of your problem.” The angel poked Eric in the chest, and Eric gasped as memories bombarded every part of him. The taste of pumpkin pie coated his tongue. The Pinciottis' kitchen filled his vision. Blood heated the nape of his neck, and his own words burrowed into his ears: “Donna, look, that kiss was great and if I could take it back, I would because it's not worth ruining what you and I have.” The angel was making him relive Thanksgiving, the one when he'd Frenched Laurie's college friend. “Eric,” his memory of Donna said, “you are a dumbass.” The Pinciottis' kitchen vanished, replaced by the woods. The smell of mud saturated his nose. The night air was cold, but Donna's body warmed him, along with the double sleeping bag they shared. Vanstock. Donna's laughter was all he heard, until his voice spoke over it, “It's nice to laugh, isn't it? 'Cause I kind of knew about Kelso and Laurie all along and didn't tell you.” “Excuse me?” his memory of Donna said. “Which was wrong,” his memory-self said, “but now I'm being honest, which is right, right?” “Get out of this bag.” “No, wait, Donna. Just, please listen—” “Fine, I'll get out.” Donna's warmth disappeared, but it returned minutes later. “Hey! Move over.” “You're not mad at me anymore?” “Nope.” “So, what are you thinking?” his memory-self said. “That Kelso's an idiot and if I say anything to Jackie, it'll hurt her.” “Yes, exactly.” “And you know what else? You're like, a really great boyfriend.” His heart raced, then and now. His skin tingled as the woods faded. His room rematerialized around him, and the angel said, “I guess you were right. There's no hope. I'll let you out of our deal. All I have to do is snap my fingers, and—” He raised his hand into the air. “Wait, no.” Eric's lashes were damp, and he grasped the angel's hand with both of his own. “Let me try. Please, just ... let me try.” The angel smiled serenely and, before vanishing in flash of light, gave Eric a salute, as if to say, “Good luck.”

#That 70s Show #That '70s Show #Eric x Donna #Eric Forman #Donna Pinciotti #Fanfic #One Difference: The Angel Offers Eric Another Choice #Eric and Donna

41 notes · View notes