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yawntutsyip · 1 year

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warnings: Ao’nung is kinda mean , but then nice dw

an: I apologize how long it took for this to come out 🥲 I’ve just had major writers block, especially with this one but I think we cool now.

masterlist , chapter one

‘evenge - girl

yawntutsyìp - darling

sempul - father

sa’nok - mother

‘Itan - son

I see you | Chapter 2

You were currently sitting in the sand playing with the tiny shells that lay in front of you next to the rock Ao’nung was sitting on as all his friends sat on the other ones, which meant no room for you so that's why you were sitting on the ground.

You felt like a child having to wait for their mother to stop talking so you just awkwardly listen and stay quiet. They didn’t acknowledge your presence anyways besides a boy named Rotxo who you sort of previously because you always help his grandma weave baskets from time to time, she was a kind old lady.

“So is she just gonna follow you around all day?...” One of the boys said catching your attention and making your ears twitch up. “Pretty much. My mom wanted her to hang out with us because she is le’awtu” Ao’nung replied as if you weren't sitting right next to him.

“She's kind of weird, she's too quiet. Hey! ‘evenge! Why don’t you make yourself useful and grab us some snacks, yeah?” The same boy from before said to you as if you were some servant. You don’t bother lifting your head from the shell you were looking at.

‘I don’t even want to be here…can’t I just go back to the Tsahìk’

A swift kick to your shoulders pulled you out of your thoughts and look up at Ao’nung. Your brows furrow in confusion and a little bit of hurt, you were sure he obviously didn't use his full strength but it still hurt enough to have lingering pain in the spot.

“You heard him, Go grab us some snacks will you?” Ao’nung said with his signature glare that seemed to be reserved only for you, unfortunately. You hated him, he was the weird one if anything, He may not think he is being obvious when his gaze lingered a little longer than what you consider normal, but it was obvious enough for you to tell. It was as if you were the prey he was getting ready to hunt.

“What do you guys want for snacks?” You ask standing up while brushing the sand that stayed stuck to your leg from having sat for so long. “Just grab some fruit! But make it fresh. We want the ones from the top branches, not the bottom.” Another boy says as they all whisper and laugh at each other.

You nod your head taking a mental note and turn to Ao’nung. “And what about you? You are allergic to that fruit right? Do you want me to grab some berries?” A wave of shock ran through Ao’nung from getting caught off guard, he was surprised you knew that not even his friends knew but some random girl that he only met once knew. “Yeah, whatever…Just go now”.

Ao’nung waved you off as they all go back to their conversation from earlier, but as you leave you heard them. “Sorry Ao’nung I didn’t know you were allergic to those, But I mainly only said that because it would probably take hours for her to get them those are too far into the forest”

A sigh leaves your mouth. Why couldn't people just have some common decency to be nice for once? You had tried to figure out this multiple times in your head yet you never get an answer. You couldn't get your head around the fact, why would you pick on someone you don’t know? Or judge them just from just one time of meeting one another.

As you pass by your Marui you grab a woven kelp basket and set it against your hip as you make your way to the small, yet big, forest. Although it was a small forest and obviously could no way ever be compared to the actual forest that lay in the jungle, there was always a possibility that people could get lost in it but it was mostly children who weren't yet used to the land.

Crouching down to a small bush, you began to scavenge through it, picking all the ripe berries. As much as your intrusive thoughts were telling you to make sure to grab all the half-ripe ones so that they stayed sour, you knew that wasn't the right thing and decide against it.

Once you grabbed the last of the berries and put them in the basket, you began to walk further to look for the fruit they were talking about. You strain your head up as you look through the tall trees for the specific fruit. Your eyes finally caught an orange round-shaped fruit. ‘Finally’

Walking closer to the tree you finally get the real scale of how far they were, Usually for this type of fruit you would have the skilled fruit pickers or even some of the warriors, depending on how high up they were, to come and grab them but unfortunately for you, you were neither and had to make do with the skills you had.

Part of you wanted to say forget about it and tell them no, but another part of you longed to see the look on their stupid faces as you walked back with the fruit laid in your hands. You set the basket down on the dirt ground before jumping up and grabbing the first branch, mustering all the strength you had in your body.

‘I need to start working out, great mother!-’ You thought as you get a reality check, you spent most of your days as a healer, which rarely required you to be strong but now you started to rethink that as you somewhat struggle to pull yourself up on another branch.

This had taken longer than it should of, but you finally reached the top and picked the fruit, now all you had to do was figure out how the hell you were going to get down without falling while caring the fruit in both hands.

Slowly you move and place your back against the rough surface of the tree and slide down, reaching one foot down to the branch below it, doing this a couple more times as you got to the bottom your foot slips with a loud gasp leaving your lips and you began falling, flailing your arms around to try and latch on something, you could feel cuts forming on your skin from the sharp branches and leaves you fell through.

Somehow you managed to land on a branch and catch yourself before you started to fall again, the fruit you had picked long forgotten as they fell on the ground. Your body was covered from the juice of the fruit due to you accidentally falling on some when you landed on the branch.

You let out a frustrated cry while breathing heavily due to the adrenaline rush, after giving yourself a few moments to regain your composure you move down the last branches and land back on the ground where you belonged, definitely not the trees.

Looking at the ground you grabbed a few of the fruit that survived the fall and placed them in the basket and made your way back to wash and prepare them with a limp in your walk, and man did your ankle hurt. You decided to just wait till later tonight to check it out, no big deal right?

You reached your Marui and prepared the fruit, washing the dirt off and cutting them. You also made sure to wipe off all the juice and clean up the cuts that were on your body.

Making your way back to the spot the boys were at you hold the plates out to them. “Here are your snacks. Enjoy.” You watched with disgust as they wolfed the fruit down like madmen.

Limping to your spot on the ground next to Ao’nung you hand him the berries and sit down with a thump leaning your back against the rock and letting out huffs, that small journey had taken a lot of energy out of you.

While your back was against the rock and to Ao’nung, while no one was looking he grabbed a couple of leaves and a twig that had gotten stuck in your hair and threw them behind somewhere.

He felt bad when he saw you limping, and if you looked closely he could see the cuts you had gotten on your arms and legs that had begun to bleed again, but he wouldn't dare to say anything. Why did he care anyways? You could've chosen to decline, so there for it was your fault, at least that's what he was trying to convince his inner thoughts.

After a while his friends had to leave as their families called, so now it was just you and Ao’nung sitting in silence not bothering to disturb it. But out of the Blue Ao’nung stands up and begins to walk away.

“Ao’nung? Where are you going?!” You called out to the boy while sitting up, but he didn’t answer. A sigh leaves your lips as you grumble under your breath as you get up and jog to catch up to him. “At least wait for me!”

Ao’nung looked over his shoulder at you before slowing down his pace by a sliver and continuing to walk. He decided to be nice for once and help you out. He wasn’t annoyed at you but more at the fact that he actually wanted the first time you guys hung out to be alone. But that plan all went down the drain.

Following the Metkayina boy a little longer, you start to look at your surroundings trying to figure out where the heck you were. Looking up ahead you see a familiar healing hut. “Ao’nung?” You tried calling his name out once again.

You watched as he continued walking, getting closer and closer to the hut until you guys reached the entrance. Were you supposed to follow him in? Maybe this was a personal matter and you were just following him like a weirdo.

It was as if Ao’nung had heard your thoughts, he held the door open waiting for you to walk inside after him, so you did so. “What are we doing in here Ao’nung? Are you hurt? Do you want me to mix up some medicine for you?!” You asked out as you began going to the table grabbing the ingredients.

“No. Not me.” Ao’nung said while standing behind you grabbing the stuff you had begun picking up and setting them back down. He then grabs your arm and drags you to one of the cots forcing you to sit down by pushing your shoulders.

“Now sit down and stay there for a second.” He tells you then turns around going back to the table you were just at and picks up the ingredients again, mixing them up into a paste-like substance. You obeyed and say there quietly observing his every move.

Once he was finished he walked back over to you with a bowl in his hand. “It’s for you. I saw you had gotten hurt” he tells you while putting some of the medicine on his fingers and dabbing it gently on the cuts that laid on your arms from the sticks that had scratched you when you fell.

“Thank you…but you know I could do this myself, I’m a healer you know-“ Ao’nung cuts you off. “I know. Now stay still…please.” He said to you, but in a softer tone. He sits down next to you and brings a hand to your chin, lifting it up to look at him so he could get a better view of your face.

A purple hue covers your cheeks as you avoid your eyes from looking into his aqua ones. Being this close to his face, and feeling his hands on your skin with his gentle touches made you flustered, and butterflies in your stomach. It made you want to stand up and run away but you knew you couldn’t as he still had a soft grip on your chin.

His fingers collect more of the medicine paste and he begins to dab it on your cheek, keeping in mind not to press too hard afraid of causing you any pain. “I’m sorry for earlier” Ao’nung disrupts the quietness, eyes still focused on the cut he was covering up.

“It's alright, no need to apologize” you whisper, eyes now trained on his hands as they work, watching their every move. You freeze up as you feel his thumb graze your lip. “I do though. I kicked you earlier rather harsher than I meant. I’m also apologizing for how rude my friends and I were to you”

“Oh yeah… I sorta forgot about that. It’s cool now, don't worry about it.” You tell him, quietly laughing it off. Ao’nung finally removed his hand from your face and sat back looking over you making sure he didn’t miss any wounds.

“(Y/N)?” You hear a voice from behind you both call out. Both your heads turn in the direction of the voice, and your eyes land on your mother. Eyes soften at her figure, this was the first time you had seen her leave your father's side.

“Hey, sa’nok…you alright?” You asked her as she made her way towards the both of you with small steps before stopping in front of the cot. “I’m fine my dear, are you okay? I had heard your voice and came out here, and then I saw this boy tending to your wounds…where did they come from?!” She says with a hint of worry in her words. Your mother reached her hand out to your face brushing your hair out from your face and behind your ears.

“I just feel down, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, don’t worry” you lie and reassure her, your mother already had enough on her plate right now dealing with your father, and you didn’t want to add to the list and cause her more stress. Ao’nung’s ears raise as he glances at you as if he were saying ‘what? what are you saying?’ But you just shake your head silently telling him to drop it.

“Be careful my yawntutsyìp, I must go back to sempul now…come visit later tonight please?” Your mother pleaded, she had slowly begun to realize that you were turning into a woman and that little girl who she thought of you as slowly vanishing.

“Of course, I will, I’ll also make sure to bring some fruit I had picked up earlier” She smiled and gave you a peck on the forehead telling you she liked the idea, and then went back to the room where your father lay.

“Do you think we could get out of here?” “Let’s go” Ao’nung and you both talk at the same time interrupting each other. You turn your head as Ao’nung does the same and your breath gets caught in your throat as you realize how close you guys were sitting. Noses nearly touching, one blow of the win could easily close the gap if you guys didn’t hold your stance.

Ao’nung started into your aqua eyes, he was having deja vu, like this had happened before…which it did a while ago. His eyes trailed down your face and landed on your lips, they were soft and plump, so tempting to him, he just wanted to lean forward and crash his against yours pulling you into his arms. Unknowing both of you, you guys began to lean forward, eyes focused on the other one's lips. Inch by inch until there was nearly enough space for a piece of paper to slide in between and before you guys could lock lips someone entered the hut.

“Ao’nung! (Y/N)! There you are, I was looking for you guys. What are you guys doing here? I made lunch!” Ronal walks in just in time for you and Ao’nung to be pulled apart and scoot some distance between you, both faces flushed with a purple hue. She knew something had happened, she was not dumb but she wasn’t going to bring it up either.

“I fell when we were running across the big rocks and got scraped up, so Ao’nung took me here to get the medicine…” You tell the Tsahìk, scratching your cheek in embarrassment. Ronal walks closer to you and inspects all the cuts making sure they had been properly taken care of and backs away with a nod. “Well you did a good job on patching up (Y/N)” she gives you a smile of approval.

“Actually! It was Ao’nung who had done it, not me this time” Ronal’s eyes widen in surprise as she looked over at her son who had his head down playing with the strings on the cot. “Ao’nung? You did this!?” , “don’t sound so surprised sa’nok, you are my mother after all” he lifts his head to show a cheeky grin.

The way his mother was surprised that he had done such a good job somewhat offended him but at the same time boosted his ego that it was good enough for her to have thought you had done it, and you were a good healer as well so he’ll take the compliment.

“My my well done ‘itan. Now both of you let’s go, Your sempul might have already eaten everything if we don’t hurry.” Ronal said, ushering the kids to stand up and follow her. You both do as she said walking out in the direction of the family’s Marui.

Ao’nung and you share a last glance at each other, starting from each other's lips that were once so close to the other. Unknown to you, your tanhì had started to glow when you stared at Ao’nung, and he noticed too. He only smirked giving you a wink before looking away to his mother who had been talking.

‘I think I like Ao’nung.’

tag list: @elegantkidfansoul @amortencjja @mizuki80 @fanboyluvr

#atwow x reader #aonung x reader #ao’nung #ao’nung x reader #☆ — ao’nung ˖˚⊹

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darklydeliciousdesires · 10 months

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Lost & Found - Chapter Nine.

So then, my beautiful, wonderful audience. Those who are not new around these parts know that sometimes, treats are given in the form of a double update day with my stories, and guess what? Today is one of those days! I know you've all been waiting patiently for the sexual side of Emma and Guero's blossoming relationship to finally flower, so I thought I'd share it today in the next chapter! Has that made you smile? I hope it has! :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight

Words - 3,434

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, Minors DNI. Recounts of kidnap, child trafficking, physical/verbal/sexual abuse.

The more she revealed, it seemed, the more comfortable she became with sharing memories of her nineteen years held prisoner. Guero lay there and let her recount it all, being exactly what she needed, somebody to simply listen.

“Marie taught me how to shoot.” He had wondered at how well she seemed to handle the Beretta she’d pointed at his head, her handling of the firearm steely and confident. “There were guns kept all over the house, so there’d always be one within easy reach, just in case. With whom Rocco was, he was a target, or rather his family were. He routinely pissed off other mob families, so of course anyone he cared for became a target, a weak point.

“She wanted me to be able to protect myself from such a threat, but mostly, if Rocco himself ever became so unhinged that I felt my life was in danger. “Shoot him dead, and we’ll figure it out somehow afterward”, is what she used to tell me. How we would have figured that out beyond running for our lives, I don’t know. His guys would have hunted us down.”

She paused for a moment, tears beginning to swim within her eyes. “I hate myself, for leaving her. Joey, Alessia and Mikey, too. I loved them so much, they were like my siblings for Christ’s sake! It’s a guilt that’ll never leave me, that I ran and they’re all still stuck there! She became my mother, and I abandoned her!”

“Hey, no,” he began, touching his fingers under her chin, gently lifting her head. “You don’t have to feel guilty about a thing. I get that you miss her, she made the hell he put you through bearable where she could, but Marie chose that life, Emma. Nobody forced her.

“She knew who she was marrying, and I’m not saying that in the end she had an easy choice to get away from him, ‘cuz I can see from what you told me he’d have killed her for it, but you found a way out. You took your chance, and you got free. If she loves you as much as it seems she does, then she’ll be fucking happy as hell the girl she counted as one of her own got free of him.”

She absorbed his words, realising that no matter how unpleasant it felt, what he’d said was the plain, simple truth. If she didn’t assume her to be dead via Rocco’s hand, Marie would be quietly rejoicing her escape. “Is it wrong that I feel more of a maternal bond with her than I do my actual mom? I feel guilty for that, too. When I hear the word mom, I think of Marie, not Cassie.”

He shifted slightly beneath her, Emma moving a little as he turned onto his side, resting his head on his arm. “It might sound cold, but it’s fact. Marie was in your life longer than your birth mom. I kinda guess it’s only natural you’d think that. Doesn’t mean you love Cassie any less, or that you can’t reconnect with her now you’re free.”

“But, but,” she began, her throat swelling on a rising lump, “that’s the thing, there is no Cassie. When I was twenty-five, we sat and looked on the internet, I begged her to look up my family. I just wanted to know if they were okay. Mom died back in two thousand and thirteen from breast cancer. My dad, he passed away six years ago, motorbike accident. All I have left is Dylan, who is still in Spokane. My grandparents, too, unless anything happened in the interim.

“I’ll never see my mom and dad again, and I loathe him, I detest him completely that he robbed me of those years with them, that they both died not knowing what had happened to me! As if me being taken wasn’t bad enough. It left Dylan all alone, no immediate family, and it’s all because of him!”

She fell apart at that point, naturally so, sobbing against his chest as Guero held her. Again, he had no idea what to say to that, knowing it would take a man greater with words than he was to offer verbal comfort. Instead, he was just there, not knowing that truly that was all she needed from him, just someone to be there. It wasn’t about words. Listening was enough, as he continued to do, Emma sharing more with him about her life within the gilded cage prison that was the Lombardi mansion.

“He used to virtually pimp me out to his friends too at parties.” Once again, Guero felt his anger flare like a firecracker, grinding his teeth as his jaw tightened. “I always wanted to enjoy sex, but none of them ever made it feel good for me, all too consumed by their own pleasure to give a damn about mine. As long as they got to lie between the legs of a pretty, young blonde, that was good enough.

“There was only one of them who was different. His underboss, Vincent Calabrese never laid a hand on me. I was offered to him, and for appearances in front of Rocco and the others he always accepted, but once we got into the bedroom, he just sat down beside me on the bed and we talked. He said he wasn’t in the habit of defiling little girls, but even when I was over the age of consent, he still wouldn’t.

“He staunchly disagreed with what was being done, the child trafficking. ‘It’s an affront to god, snatching children from their families’ is what he always used to say. He always opposed it, and Rocco knew that, but ultimately went along with what was being done for the sake of a quiet life, and I guess not ending up with a bullet between his eyes either. This leads me to something that you guys should all know, EZ especially.

“You’re running heroin for him now, but all that will change if Rocco has his way, and believe me, he will. You guys are in his pocket now, which means in his mind, he owns you. You’re all to do with as he pleases, and what he pleases is to start bringing children across the border. Undocumented migrants are much easier to move, and get away with moving, too. I overheard him talking about it, it was always a two birds with one stone deal for him. He’d get you used to the money first, and then tell you that your consignment would begin to include kids as well.”

Guero pushed himself up, his eyes rounding as he looked down at her. “For real, that motherfucker wants us in on trafficking kids?”

His horror at the very suggestion was telling over the person he was. Although still a criminal, he was a man with the kind of morals that had been few and far between in the world she had escaped from. “Eventually, yeah.”

“And if we refuse?” He didn’t need to ask, really. He could guess.

She made a gun motion against the side of her head, couple with a soft exclamation of ‘pow’. “He’d wipe you all out and move onto the next nearest charter, using your eradication as an example of what happens when people push back against him.”

The weight of the mafia. That was a war they definitely wouldn’t win, and he knew that for sure. Rocco Lombardi could crush them all, very easily, too. “I have to take that to EZ. Not now, of course, but at some point over the weekend, call a templo. Will you be okay to come and tell us what you know?”

She smiled, reaching to stroke his hair. “Of course, I will.”

They remained quiet for a time after, Emma needing the silence. Her legs remained in tangle with his as she reached for the tequila bottle, taking a long glug, the alcohol burning her throat. She felt a little drunk and numb, which was what she had needed in order to sit there and offload it all to another person. “There’s more I could tell you about my life, but right now, I feel drained. Like I need air, too. Can you give me a minute?”

“Yeah, take as long as you need.” He reached to stroke her face, Emma turning her head and kissing his palm, getting up and letting herself out of the front of the house. The cool air hit her, soothing to her frayed nerves, the residual effects of her revelation hanging onto her, though.

“Hey, boo.” Of course, Tyrone would notice her out there, always keeping the watch. She walked over to his window, her shoulders heavy, watching him emerge from behind the swathe of curtain fabric. “Damn, you look all sad and shit. Fuckboy bin’ actin’ up?”

She shook her head. “No, no he’s great. Listen, I know you deal, so I figure I’m in the right place. Can you sell me a joint? That’s all I want, just one.”

He looked entertained at the naivety of her question, that it was the norm for dealers to exchange such a small amount. Tyrone, for all of this mouth and uncouthness was kind, though. “I ain’t selling you shit, white girl. This is on me, hold on.”

She smiled. “Thank you, you’re great.”

He beamed, reaching to grab his rolling tray, locating one of his pre-rolled joints. “Ain’t I, though? I know fuckboy rarely smokes it, so just remember I gotchu if you ever need a lil’ hit.” The truth was, neither did she. She’d occasionally partook of it back in her old life, secretly taking from Rocco’s personal stash which he smoked to ease his chronic migraines. It helped her feel more relaxed in the utter brutal chaos of her life. It smelled and tasted awful, but she enjoyed the calming buzz.

Tyrone passed a joint and a lighter through the window. “Enjoy, boo.” She smiled, leaning in and kissing his cheek. “Aw, lawdy! I gotta kiss from a pretty girl, hell yeah!”

She laughed softly, shaking her head and lighting up, moving to sit on the front step of Guero’s side of the house, taking a long drag. God, that was some nice weed. She coughed a few times, the usual, barky rasp associated with smoking weed, her throat tickling.

“Yo!” She turned to see a large arm thrust through the window, a can of soda proffered forth. “If you don’t like mango then I can’t help you. Oh, hold up. I might have a Fanta somewhere.”

Walking back over, she took the can. “Thanks, Tyrone. You keep your Fanta, mango and I are good.” She moved back to the step, opening the soda and sipping it, the tickle clearing nicely before she took another little puff, looking out across the street into the darkness. The only sounds audible were that of the game Tyrone was playing, and the chirp of cicadas. It was somewhat relaxing in ambience.

The weed had an instant calming effect upon her, all of the brutality that would endlessly echo through her memories placated and pushed back again, back behind the fortress walls in her mind. She’d had to keep it there for years to have even had a chance of remaining sane through her ordeal. God, she couldn’t believe that she’d actually escaped it, found somebody who she could trust, someone who for all intents and purposes was slowly becoming all hers, too.

“As if you’re out here getting high on my front step. Not even I do that.” Turning, she saw Guero emerge from the house, moving to sit behind her, his legs flanking her body as he stretched.

“Well, that’s because you don’t smoke weed,” she chirped, watching him frown before plucking the joint from her.

He took a few puffs, handing it back, holding in a cough until the tickle passed. “I do, but not often. It has too much of an effect on me, and I can never get the balance right.”

“The balance between what?”

“Between a nice buzz and ragingly horny.”

“Ahh.” She nodded, looking entertained, the stoned giggled welling up within her. “I somehow don’t think you need any extra boosting in that department.”

He moved her hair, kissing the side of her neck. “A hundred percent correct, mamacita. And since I guess you’re probably drunker now than you were earlier, I’m not risking that balance any further, so you finish it. Kinda figure you need the sedation after everything you told me.”

“Oh, you’re not wrong there,” she spoke, eyes widening a little as she leaned back against him. “Even if I was sober, sharing all of that has kinda dampened my desire.”

He snorted softly, arms tightening around her. “Understandable. S’okay, I can wait.”

“Can you?” she giggled, the sound joining the noise of the cicadas.

“Mm.” he hummed, kissing her neck again. “Just.”

Just then, the curtains next door began moving, Tyrone’s boom sounding. “Goddamnit, will you two go back in that house and bust some furniture already? Shit!” They both snort laughed, Guero resting his forehead to her shoulder, Tyrone continuing. “You better sort yo’ damned mess, fuckboy! Because I am one pretty smile away from makin’ that fine assed lil’ honey mine, you hear?”

“Yeah, I hear,” he called through his laughter, “and I see, too. Plying her with weed and soda.”

“I know what the ladies like! If she’s still out here in a half hour, she gets the first slice of my pizza, too!”

“Exactly, you gotta give me a head start against your half ton of raw charm, dog,” he chuckled, Tyrone emerging further from the curtains.

“Hey, I might be a big fella, but I’m no fuckin’ half ton! I’m thick and juicy, drives the chicks wild!”

“Tyrone, you ain’t thick, my man. Your ass is so fat, if I swerved my bike to miss you, I’d run outta gas.” There was a pause, a squawking laugh emanating from the window, Emma thinking it hilarious a man with such a low, rumbling voice had a laugh so high in pitch. All banter with their hilarious neighbour aside, they remained outside until she had finished the joint, heading back in and returning to bed.

“Do you feel better for telling me everything?”

Resting her head against his chest, she nodded, her nails tracing the outline of one of the spiderweb tattoos that spread out across each of his shoulders. “I do, you know. Whether the nightmares will stop because of it, I don’t know. I think I might need further help to recover from it all. Kinda scared about registering with a doctor, though, putting my name back out there. He’ll be looking for me, and if he finds any record of a twenty-nine-year-old woman named Emma Louise Taylor anywhere, he’ll come for me.”

Her muscles stiffened at just the thought, Guero turning to wrap both arms around her, feeling her relax into his embrace after a few moments. “We’ll work something out.” She fell asleep in his arms, those early morning hours passing dreamlessly, neither waking until 10am the following morning.

Rising from her place curled against him, Emma rubbed her eyes, looking down at the chiselled tattoo canvas that had been her pillow. Her safe person, the kind of man she’d dreamed would one day save her from her fate, and there he was... snoring like a brontosaurus. She couldn’t help but giggle softly, thinking that was a part perhaps not strictly included in the romanticism of her fantasies.

He cracked an eye open, his grin widening. “What are you laughing at?”

“Isn’t it obvious? The noise! You snore like something hell spat up for being too loud.”

“I wasn’t snoring,” he began stretching, the other eye opening eventually. “I was doing mindful breathing.”

Immediately, she cracked up, leaning to place a kiss against his stubbly jaw. “There’s nothing mindful about those sawn logs.”

She had a point, he guessed, Guero turning onto his side and wrapping his arms around her. “Yeah, but I’m cute. I get away with it, don’t I?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, turning her head back to kiss him, “you do have that going for you.”

“And a whole lot more.”

Biting the corner of her lip, she shifted against him, a little wiggle that stirred him exactly where she intended him to be stirred. “Feel like showing me?”

“Mm.” His arms tightened around her, kisses scattered against the side of her neck. “I need coffee and a shower, then trust me, I’ll spend all morning showing you.”

Now that was a statement definitely on a par with her fantasies. He left the bed first, taking a shower, calling to her that he’d left in on for her as he made his way through to the kitchen. It was while she was under the warm water looking down at herself that a stab of panic prickled against her guts.

He’d see her naked. All of her.

While she had body confidence in her shape, the littering of scars that marked her sides and lower back made her feel ugly. Some had faded to white, but there were still a few dark pink markings that remained. All were raised scar tissue, triangular shapes of knife points pressed into her skin, the burning brand of a hot blade searing Rocco’s displeasure branded onto her skin forever.

As she dried off, her eyes found them again, wondering if they’d really be all too noticeable if the blinds remained drawn in the bedroom.

“Of course, they will," she muttered, beginning to sniff. All she wanted was to move on from it all, enjoy the basic human right of a consensual sexual relationship with another adult, someone of her actual choosing, yet the literal scars of the past held her back.

A soft tap sounded upon the partly open door. “Em, you want a coffee?”

Em. No one had ever called her that before. She liked it. “No, thank you.”

“You alright.”

“Yeah.”

Her pinched voice alluded to the contrary. “No, you’re not. Can I come in?”

“Yeah.” Tightening the large, white bath towel around herself again, she wiped her eyes on the back of her hand, trying to compose her upset.

“So, people who are alright stand here crying, huh?” Him and his smart mouth. He was right in his light sarcasm, though. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Baby. He'd called her that back when he’d first found her. How different the intent behind the word was now. “The scars I have,” she began, gulping, hoping she could swallow down the lump she had painfully swelling in her throat. “You’ll see them, and they’re hideous. They make me ugly. You’ll think they look ugly.”

He frowned, lifting her chin with a gentle touch of his fingers as he began shaking his head. “I’ve never liked people making my mind up for me. That includes you, mamas.” His hands pressed softly on her shoulders, resting his forehead against hers. “I’ve got no problem with whatever scars you have, and I’m not gonna think you’re ugly because of ‘em. Only thing that is, is that low opinion you have of yourself. If you want, leave a t shirt on. I don’t mind. I’d prefer you naked, but whatever makes you comfortable, I’m good with.”

She could fetch a t shirt, or she could just be brave and let him see her. All of her. She’d bared her soul to him already, after all. Indecision made her heart quicken, the soft stroke of his fingertips at her upper arms soothing as she reached for the towel and untucked it, letting it fall. Fighting the urge to cover herself with her arms, she looked anywhere but him as he took in her nudity, her body tensing when he moved his hands to stroke the scars she detested so much with careful attention.

Leaning close, he kissed the side of her head, his lips soft against her ear. “They aren’t who you are, and you’re not any less beautiful. They’re only the map of the journey that finally led you to me.”

Her throat tightened with emotion, his words so beautiful, she wanted to cry. The desire in his eyes as she finally looked at him dictated it might be poorly timed, though. This was not a time for lament and sadness. No. This was the time to plant her lips upon his and let him carry her to the bedroom.

#guero mayans mc #guero mayans mc fanfiction #guero fanfiction #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc #guero x ofc #guerl smut #mayans mc smut #mayans mc season 5 #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fic

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skulduggery-pleasant-bp9 · 6 months

Text

Playing with a Coroner and a Detective is not wise - Skulduggery x Male!Reader Universe

WARNING!: Cursing, mention of murder, threatening AND MORE ! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !!!

Part 8 – The Coroner is ticked off

Everyone was silent for a little bit at M/n’s outburst. Stephanie turned to the Skeleton.

“I told you not that long ago that he HATES meeting new people that quickly. He is on edge and you really provoke it. Do you WANT him to snap ? That side is ugly.”, she asked Skulduggery.

“I apologize, Corrupted.”, Skulduggery said softly.

“Shove it up your boney ass, Skulkin. You better explain why you dragged us here, because they obviously don’t understand anything. Nor do they know anything. I don’t like them, I want to get out of here and never see them again. Mostly this Meritorius guy.”, M/n growled.

“He didn’t hurt you, Corrupted.”, Ghastly said softly.

“I don’t care if he hurt us or not, Ghastly ! The fact that he thinks everything is fucking easy ticks me off ! Who is HE to tell US if we join this world or not ?! He ain’t my Dad ! My Father died YEARS ago ! Nor is he my fucking Mom ! She is dead too ! I don’t give a flying what he wants !”, M/n yelled angered.

“Corrupted...”, Ghastly tried again.

“Remember what I told you in your shop, Ghastly ?! You understood ! This man obviously doesn’t ! He rather sends us to our fucking graves ! Hell no ! No way in hell am I going back to my old life, only to be murdered, by one of his out of control, freak accident mages ! He can fucking SHOVE it ! I ain’t fucking crazy !”

The Elders stared at M/n in shock. He was pissed.

“Before he losses the last bit of control he has, let me ask Skulduggery something.”, Crow said carefully, to not piss M/n off further.

Skulduggery perked up and looked at her, while M/n stayed silent, his glare never leaving Meritorius and the other two Elders. Then they started to ask him about any evidence about the truce being in danger, as he reported. He said that M/n and his Sister were the evidence, which made the Coroner even angrier. He explained that they got attacked twice by the same mage at the same night and he was after some key.

They asked about the key, but Skulduggery was avoiding the question and accused Serpine. They kept pressing for the key and he let out that they believe it might be for the Sceptre of Ancients, which didn’t make them believe him. They started to argue about it that Serpine was innocent and Gordon wasn’t murdered, nor the Sceptre exists. Skulduggery lost that argument obviously and M/n was very close to snap.

“As for these two, we hoped that they were very much on the edge of our world.”, Meritorius said.

“They won’t tell anyone.”, Skulduggery said quietly.

“That may be, but if they take one more step into our world, they might never go back. We wish that you think clearly about this, Skulduggery Pleasant. Think about, what that will mean.”

“Okay, I’ve had enough in this stupid shit. Talking about us like we aren’t even here ! Now listen here ‘Grand Mage plus extra luggage’ !”, M/n started outraged.

They stared at the boy, who pushed his Sister to Ghastly, who held her softly by the shoulders. M/n got closer to Meritorius and pointed a finger at him.

“YOU nor Pleasant have a say in what me and MY Sister choose to do. I think you were deaf a second ago. WE got ATTACKED and almost KILLED TWICE by one of YOUR dumb MAGES ! He was sent by someone he called his MASTER, that little kinky shithole ! He was ready to KILL us and I LIVE in that DAMNED house ! If I go back NOW, that Pisshead, whoever it is, will pay me a visit one day and KILL me SUCCESSFULLY ! YOU can’t keep your own fucking MAGES in check and expect US to go back, forget about everything AND DIE ?! What in the ever loving fucking hell is WRONG with you, man ?! Either you are too old to give a shit about this, or you are just plain stupid ! Sure we go back to our lives and get fucking KILLED thanks to YOU ! How about you fucking shove it ?!”

Everyone stared at him in shock and silence.

“How about YOU go back to YOUR normal life, without Magic and forget about everything, huh ?! See how you like it ! I don’t care if you are a Grand Mage, someone who is that stupid, doesn’t deserve MY respect ! You have to earn that, old man, and obviously you have a VERY long way to go ! You want us to go back ?! THEN FIND THAT FUCKING MASTER AND GET THEM KILLED ! Otherwise, I will NEVER go back ! You have three hours to find him, if you don’t, I AM FUCKING STAYING, MOTHERFUCKER !”

Ghastly went pale and Stephanie did too. Tome and Crow were in absolute shock and Meritorius looked beyond taken aback.

“YOU HEAR ME ?! YOU FINALLY HEAR ME, BITCH ?! THREE HOURS ! YOU DON’T FIND THE MASTER UNTIL THEN, I WILL STAY IN THIS FUCKING WORLD ! NOT MY FAULT, YOU ARE INCOMPETENT, TO KEEP YOUR MAGES IN CHECK ! I RATHER STAY ALIVE, THANK YOU FOR ASKING AND CARING !!!”, M/n screamed in his face, outraged.

Then he took heavy, fast breaths.

“To tell ME and MY SISTER what to do...WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE ?! You heard that we were threatened TWICE already and you insist that we go back and DIE while that PISSHEAD it still out there and walking FREE ! You say MY UNCLE WASN’T MURDERED ! Yet you never saw human doctors do their sloppy work ! They could have been paid to lie and you DARE to CLAIM that there is NO EVIDENCE ?! How about you FUCKING SHOVE IT, OLD MAN ?! YOU KNOW JACKSHIT ! We aren’t in the 18th Century anymore, where everyone did their job without any errors ! Wake up from that belief and that fast ! Get a reality check, you hear ?!”

“Let me to him...he is gone. He will say something he will feel bad about for a while...”, Stephanie told Ghastly.

“You let my Sister close to me and you are the next person I will scream at, Ghastly !”, M/n threatened.

Ghastly kept a firm grip on Stephanie.

“I am not gone, Sister, I am just rightfully pissed off with this ignorant Mage in front of my fucking face ! If I would be gone, I would have beaten the crap out of him ! Like that fucking psycho mage that DARED to lay his NASTY PAWS on you !”, M/n snarled.

His glare never left the Grand Mage.

“I went apeshit as that fucker hurt my Sister. The Pisshead broke in and tried to KILL us. I was ready to murder him and he didn’t see that one coming, you hear me ? I don’t care if that Serpine twat is the Master or not, all I care about is that the Master is getting killed. And if you won’t do anything about it, then I fucking will. NO ONE attacks my Sister and gets away ALIVE. YOU don’t believe in the Sceptre, I say, we at least follow any lead we fucking HAVE. It is better than nothing. The rumor is going around that Serpine looks for the Sceptre and if that is true, you should take it at least a bit into consideration, if you are the fools with a painted smile or if he is. Rumors are also a lead and I better follow it, otherwise we just sit around, twiddle our thumbs and unexpectedly DIE. Who cares if it is the Sceptre, maybe it is a cover up and you honestly sit on your asses and WAIT for something bad to happen ?! How many Humans and Mages will you let perish, until you wake up ?! How many human deaths will you put under a rug and claim, died of natural causes, to make yourself feel better about and so you can sleep at night ?! Look me in my fucking eyes and tell me if I am joking ! Tell me if I am taking your Bullshit ! Tell me what you see, ‘Grand Mage’ ! Go on !”, M/n dared Meritorius.

The Elders saw a fire in M/n’s eyes that told them that he is more than pissed off. But that fire said more than that. He was determined, protective and he doesn’t hate them. He fears for everyone’s safety. This boy, saw more than they can imagine. Then M/n looked at Tome.

“And YOU give me a VERY bad gut feeling. I better not figure out that you are involved with anything bad, otherwise I will go batshit on your Bitchass. Capiche ?”

Tome nodded quickly.

“Good.”, M/n said in a brat mood.

He looked at Eachan again.

“How come Ghastly understands me and you, someone who is way older than him, doesn’t ? Is it your pride or your stupidity ? My Uncle didn’t die of natural causes. I know so, but if you want evidence, I will inspect the body myself. I ain’t a pussy. But then you have the right to shut your mouth, about us and joining your world, and you better think of a damn good apology, for claiming that my Uncle died of natural causes at his young age. He wasn’t eighty for fucks sake.”

At that he turned around and went to his Sister. He stood two feet away from her and then opened his arms.

“Hug. Now. I’m pissed off.”, M/n said with a pout.

Stephanie smiled softly, shook her head and Ghastly let her go. She instantly pulled him into a tight hug and he hugged her back.

“One day you will get in trouble with all these insults you throw when you are angry or stressed.”, she muttered.

“I will have it in control soon, but he pissed me off beyond reason. Like honestly, who is the Crack head here ? Me or him and his extra luggage ?”, M/n asked with a huff, feeling his blood cooling down and his anger rapidly dropping.

Skulduggery looked at M/n and the boy knew the Detective wanted to give his mustard to this.

“Go on, you bag of bones. I don’t give a fuck.”, M/n said.

Skulduggery turned to the Elders and opened his jaw.

“And that was a pissed off Corrupted. I hope you learned to not piss him off again, cause that was actually scarring to witness. He was not joking around.”

“He sure wasn’t...”, Morwenna agreed.

“Noted.”, Sagacious answered quickly.

Meritorius stayed silent. Then he sighed and looked at M/n. Stephanie knew he wanted to tell M/n something, so she parted from him and turned him around, to face the Mage.

“I...deeply apologize, that I offended you, Corrupted. I just thought it was better for you two to return to your normal lives.”

“Meritorius, with all due respect, even though you don’t deserve it from me yet, my ‘Normal’ life is more fucked over than this world could be. Murder plots and Magic ? Is that all you can offer as threats ? What about crazy, psychopathic Scientists ? What about people that snatch children away and use them for their own experiments or pleasure and later on you find their corpses somewhere, mangled beyond recognition ? What about psychos that would love to use you for their own gains ? Ever thought about that shit ? The normal life, is just as fucked up as this one probably is. Maybe even worse.”

The Elders stared at M/n in shock. The Teenage boy gave a sad smile.

“Has its perks when you’ve already seen it all and heard it all.”

“Oh my...”, Morwenna said softly.

M/n shrugged his shoulders.

“Humans are just as much Monsters, as Mages with bad intentions are. The only difference ? Mages have Magic at their disposal. Humans have everything, but that.”

Stephanie hugged her Brother from behind, worried for him.

“Now I would like to leave and follow any lead Skulduggery has, so we can start to rule out stuff and make theories what the key is supposed to do, where it is and what it is supposed to unlock.”

“Of course. Thank you for coming and be careful, yes ? Please think about this very clearly if you want to stay after this is over.”, Meritorius replied.

“I already decided. What my Sister wants, is up to her. I will not influence her to follow my lead or to listen to me. She can choose her own path. I am not her Mother, nor her Father.”

With that M/n left the room, Stephanie said her bye and followed after her Brother quickly. Ghastly and Skulduggery followed quickly after them.

“Can we now go to the vault ? And next time you pull shit like this, Skulduggery Pleasant, I will have your skull and lock it away. Let’s see how you will talk with no head and jaw.”, M/n said with a sour mood.

“Of course, let’s go.”, Ghastly replied.

“I understood, Corrupted...”, Skulduggery muttered.

#skulduggery pleasant #male!reader #not the canon au #read warnings above #my au #skulduggery pleasant x reader universe #ghastly bespoke #Stephanie Edgley #Part 8 – The Coroner is ticked off #Playing with a Coroner and a Detective is not wise - Skulduggery x Male!Reader Universe

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mayhenclairs · 10 months

Text

al amanecer

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 🕸️ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

Pairing: Miles Morales/Gwen Stacy

Rating: General Audiences

Description: Gwen really doesn’t like the fact that Rio doesn’t like her. Why not try learning Spanish?

Warnings: None, pure fluff

Word Count: 1,587

A/N: Miles speaking Spanish but written by an actual Spanish speaker so it doesn’t sound stupid 🫶🏽 Comments and reblogs are the loves of my life.

Masterlist & Read on Ao3!

The sky was shaded in different shades of pink, yellow and orange as the sun set over New York City on Earth 1610. Gwen Stacy and Miles Morales sat on the side of his apartment building, mostly in silence, simply admiring. It had taken quite a while and a lot of work for them to get to the place they are right now, with Miles trusting Gwen again enough to stay over in his dimension. Speaking of…

“In the spirit of honesty,” Miles spoke, interrupting their comfortable silence as they looked over the setting sun, “my mom really does not like you.”

Gwen’s head popped up from where it was resting on his shoulder, her expression shocked as she turned to face Miles. “What? Why not?”

“Well, for one, when you met her, you called her by her first name-”

“I helped save your dad’s life!” Gwen interjected, the pout on her face making Miles want to lean in and kiss her, but of all the things they had shared with each other in trying to mend their relationship, their feelings for each other remained unspoken.

“Yeah and you called him Jeff in the process!” Miles chuckled, wrapping his arm around Gwen’s shoulders as Gwen rested her head on his shoulder once again, still pouting, and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Okay, what else?” Gwen questioned, dreading the response. She hoped there wouldn’t be anything else, but Miles’ response was almost immediate.

“She says you look old enough to vote,” said Miles. Gwen didn’t miss the way he pressed his lips together to keep himself from laughing, but she decided not to comment on it for the simple reason that she did not want to know what he found so funny about the situation.

Though she was slightly offended, Gwen’s reply came easily. “You should tell her time is relative.”

Miles barked out a laugh, not expecting that response. “Okay I’ll tell her,” he said, dropping his head on top of hers and allowing himself to bask in their closeness for a moment. Then, he added, “She doesn’t like that you can’t speak Spanish.”

Again, Gwen’s head shot up, but this time the look in her eyes was determined. “So teach me!” she instructed. She looked like it was the best idea she had ever had (which Miles seriously doubted). Her eyes gleamed with enthusiasm and her smile was unbearably wide. Distantly, Miles thought about how glad he was that the two of them could smile that way with each other again.

“No,” he responded, shaking his head but smiling privately at her sudden excitement.

“Come on, Miles, I really want your mom to like me. Pleeease,” Gwen begged, eyes wide and pleading and donning an over-exaggerated pout.

“You know I got a ‘B’ in Spanish, right?” Miles questioned, remaining wholly unconvinced. He watched as Gwen clasped her hands together pleadingly and jutted her bottom lip out even more and gave her a playful shove.

“Are you fluent?” Gwen asked, eyebrow arching as she saw him open his mouth to respond.

“... Yes,” Miles admitted begrudgingly, unable to keep his smile to himself. Gwen’s radiant smile was payment enough for how much work he’d inevitably have to put into teaching her an entirely new language.

“Then I don’t care what you got in a high school class. Those classes teach the colonizer’s Spanish-”

“How much time have you been spending with Hobie recently?” Miles snickered at her argument. Gwen waved a hand in front of her face as if motioning the question away.

“- and I wanna learn your Spanish,” Gwen continued as though she hadn’t been interrupted. “Please, please, please, please - I’m not gonna stop until you say yes - please, please, please pl-”

“Fine! Fine! Just stop it!” he laughed, tensing for a moment as Gwen threw herself into his embrace. Her soft blonde hair tickled the side of his face as she buried into the crook between his neck and his shoulder.

“Yes! Thank you!” she yelled excitedly, unaffected by Miles’ sudden stiffness, though she smiled to herself as he relaxed and allowed himself to wrap his arms around her.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he whispered to her, burrowing his nose into her hair, “This is gonna get really annoying really fast. How much do you know?”

“I take Spanish in school,” Gwen started to explain, but she was cut off by Miles holding up a hand.

“That means nothing to me. How much do you know?” He had seen plenty of people cheat their way through a Spanish class. It was as easy as hiding their phone under their thigh and going on Google translate while the teacher had their back turned.

“I know some! …On paper,” Miles gave her an unimpressed look which clearly told her to tell him the whole truth. “I know how to introduce myself,” she admitted begrudgingly.

“Okay, do it,” Miles ordered, waiting patiently and mentally preparing himself not to laugh at what was sure to be the worst Spanish had ever heard.

“Hola, me llamo Gwen,” she mumbled, not daring to meet his eyes. Miles had not prepared himself enough. Still buried in Miles’ arms, Gwen could feel his chest shaking with contained laughter and swatted his back.

“It’s not funny, asshole! I’m trying!” she insisted, trying and failing to contain her own laugh as Miles’ burst from his lips. “You try learning a whole new language, see how smart you sound!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Miles responded, though he didn’t sound sorry at all. His words could hardly be understood through his boisterous laughter, and one of his hands unraveled itself from around Gwen and instead clutched his own side where he was getting a stitch from laughing so hard. “I hope you’re not tired because we have to start from scratch.”

Gwen was tired. Reluctant as he was, Miles was a very dedicated teacher. It was still the same night, or rather, morning as it was now sometime around five a.m. She was now lying on his bed, her head hanging off the side with the pink tips of her ponytail tickling the ground.

“Give me a break, Mi! I didn’t ask to learn the whole language in one night,” she groaned as Miles took both of her hands in his and pulled her into an upright sitting position once again. “I wanna go to sleep!”

“Come on! Do you want my mom to like you or not?” he urged, sparing Gwen a grin when she glared at him.

“‘Course I do! It’s really important to me! But it’s so late.” As she ended her complaint, she slumped forward, her head resting in Miles’ lap. Her next statement was muffled by the material of his pants. “This is pointless, she's never gonna like me! She’s too overprotective of you!”

“She might like you!” Miles pressed, pushing her back up. At this point it was a bit like fighting to keep one of those inflatable tube men from the car dealerships to remain upright, as she flopped backward into her original position.

“Oh yeah, how’s that?” Gwen questioned, her hands covering her face, palms rubbing tiredly at her eyes. Behind her, through the window, thin beams of sunlight began shining through the window and basked Gwen in warm yellow light.

She looked so beautiful, he spit it out before he could even think about it. “Because I like you.”

This time, Gwen did not pop up. Instead, she rose slowly, her eyes searching for any sign that he might have been joking. “I like you too, Miles.”

She felt as though they were moving in slow motion as their faces moved closer together. Just as they were about to kiss, Miles pulled away. “How do you say it in Spanish?”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Gwen deadpanned, sending him an icy glare directly in contrast to the pleasantly happy look in her eyes.

“How do you say it?” he repeated incessantly.

“Me gustas,” Gwen relented, her smile brilliant as she began leaning in again.

“How do you say I love you?” Miles murmured against her lips the moment before they touched.

“Te amo,” Gwen whispered, nuzzling her nose into his.

“Te amo, mi tesoro,” Miles whispered in return, placing a hand on her face and finally pulling her into a kiss. The kiss was far from perfect, neither of them had ever kissed anyone before, they were both abundantly nervous, and Miles was pretty sure that at some point he bit her, but it was perfect to both of them.

Miles broke that kiss for one second and breathed, “Hermosa.” Kiss. “Linda.” Kiss. “Reina de mi corazón.” Kiss, kiss, kiss.

They stayed that way until they fell asleep, Gwen’s head cushioned on Miles’ chest, their breaths rising and falling peacefully.

This was how Rio found them when she checked on them after getting for work. Despite her initial dislike for the girl, she couldn’t help but smile at the small smile gracing her son’s face even in his sleep. Feeling an intrusion, Gwen stirred, barely lifting her head from Miles’ chest and squinting blearily at the door, relieved to find only his mother standing there.

“Buenos días, Señora Morales,” she muttered tiredly, eyes fluttering back closed as she rested once again.

“Buenos días, Gwen,” Río replied quietly, smiling down at the couple. Later in the morning, Gwen swore the kiss she felt on her forehead was in her dream, and decided not to mention it.

#across the spiderverse #ghostflower #gwen stacy #gwiles #miles morales #miles morales x gwen stacy

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purplelupins · 2 years

Note

Hey! How do you think Albert would react to one of the readers parents coming into the store? Let’s say…… her father comes in because he needs something or is nosey and just wants to scope out where she works or check on her? How do you think it would play out? Given the fact that our poor Albert is so possessive and doesn’t like her talking to other men.

Well the thing about our dear Albert is that he does not want to be blindsided. Ever. He always wants the upper hand, hence why he stalks his victims thoroughly…and reader is the exact same. He knows what her parents look like, where they work and that their schedules are…hell he’s probably even helped her mom with groceries once so that when they meet officially,she’ll already have a good impression.

With that in mind, when reader’s father comes to visit her work, Albert would know exactly who he is. Whether he’s in the back watching through his cameras, or he’s out on the sales floor and sees him, he’ll be mostly watching the interaction between reader and her dad to ensure that she doesn’t give anything away.

I think that as soon as Albert sees her father, he’d walk right up to him and welcome him to the shop, and introduce himself. The last thing he wants is for his first meeting to be awkward(which is easy for Albert because even though he’s possessive and dominant with reader, he IS still skittish and odd around normal people)

SO! A firm handshake and a “Y/n you didn’t tell me your dad was coming by! Pleasure to meet you sir.” To which she would be a nervous wreck because her father has no idea that the man standing in front of him has been fucking his daughter stupid and owns her pussy.

Once her father leaves with a promise to invite Albert to one of his famous barbecues on Saturday, Albert would lean down to reader’s ear and purr, “I think that went well little bunny…now why don’t we go to my office so you can help me with a problem you made for me Hmm?”

Fast forward to Saturday and he definitely lured her out for the day and had her ride him in his van before the barbecue so his cum would drip down her legs all night.

#nora speaks #asks #albert shaw #the grabber x reader

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nottapossum · 5 months

Text

Chapter 9: Umbrella 🌂 ❤️

Summary:

TW: Needles/shots, lying, holding grudges, possessive behavior, trafficking.

Biting, yelling, locking someone in a room, scratching, forcing someone to regress, slapping, abuse, fear of dark, child abuse.

Lmk if I should add.

This one's kinda dark ngl.

Notes:

When the sun shines, we'll shine together

Told you I'll be here forever

Said I'll always be your friend

Took an oath, I'ma stick it out to the end

Now that it's raining more than ever

Know that we'll still have each other

You can stand under my umbrella

You can stand under my umbrella." -Umbrella, Rihanna

~~~Millie:~~~

“What has Moxxie already told you about her?” Trixx asks, voice sounding hesitant through the phone.

“He didn’t tell me anything…” Millie hated to admit. “I know she died, and that Crimson was responsible, but he never talked about it.”

“Oh wow…well. I don’t know everything, but I can tell you what I’ve heard…and what I’ve seen.” They say.

Millie waits patiently for Trixx to continue.

“My mother was the oldest of two daughters. Their father was a wealthy businessman who planted some type of illegal substances. He made a lot of money but quite a few bad deals, he fucked up big time when a certain someone threatened his life and business.” Trixx explains.

“He needed protection, and Crimson’s father needed money, so they made him an offer he couldn’t refuse…

If one of his daughters married Crimson, his business would be protected by the mafia, and they would have money.

Despite the fact she already had a fiancé, Moxxie’s mother sacrificed her happiness for her sister and volunteered to be the one to marry Crimson.

Our mother married her sister’s ex fiancé after Kay married Crimson only to get away from her father… I don’t think our father and mother even liked each other, they only settled because of what happened to Aunt Kay.

Kay needed to produce an heir for Crimson as per their agreement, a future underboss or somethin; so they had Moxxie. We were all born together on the same day. Kay actually left without crimson knowing so the two could be together to give birth at the same time. It was a weird relationship they had.” Trixx explains. “Almost…possessive. But, I suppose if it was Roxxy, I'd want to help her as much as possible.”

Millie starts to think of her own sister, she could take care of herself, but if she couldn't, would Millie be so protective?

Probably.

“Yeah, our father left when Roxxy and I turned five, then Mama married Kayla’s dad. But, anyway Aunt Kay visited us a lot, mostly to see her sister and reassure her that she was safe, our mom worried about her constantly. They called almost every day.”

“So…what happened to Kay?” Millie asks.

Trixx sighs. “Moxxie visited us one last time for the harvest moon festival... I overheard Mom and Kay talking in the kitchen after Kay had a harsh discussion with Moxxie.”

~~~Past:~~~

“Are you alright?” Their mother asked Kay downstairs.

Trixx was at the top of the staircase listening as carefully as possible so hopefully they won’t get caught.

Moxxie had just gotten in trouble for mouthing off to aunt Kay… he’s been in the spare bedroom for hours.

Whether Kay locked him in there or Moxxie just wanted to be alone, Trixx wasn’t sure. But, He was clearly upset over something Kay said…or something she didn’t say.

Kay nods. “Yeah, I’m alright…I hate to do it, I hate ignoring him, but that’s what works. I don’t know what else to do, I don’t want him to end up like Crimson.”

Their mother shakes her head. “The boy does need proper discipline. But, what he really needs is to get out of that house.” She says.

“Crimson will find us if I leave, Liz.” Kay says.

“You need to get out of there, Kay. Find a safe place, just go as far as you can.” Liz says. “We can make a plan together, I got a friend in gluttony, she can help you-”

“How can I go that far while carrying a nine year old? He can’t run fast enough! We’ll be caught then Crimson will kill me.” Kay says.

“You’ll have to leave him.” Their mother said.

“I could never leave Moxxie behind, he’s my son.” She says. “My world.”

“You may have to. You can come back with help, they’re not the most powerful people, Kay.” Liz says.

“They're more powerful than you think, Liz.” Kay picked up her dishes, put them in the sink, and then went to bed.

~~~Present:~~~

“We never saw her after that visit.” Trixx explains. “We called and called, but Crimson never answered us. We sent letters that never got a response, and we didn’t see Moxxie either except on social media many years later.”

Millie’s heart felt heavy, his poor mother. “I can’t believe he never told me any of this.” She says.

“Millie, can I ask…just how much did you know about this guy before marrying him?” Trixx asks.

Millie thought she knew a lot…

She thought she knew everything she needed to…

~~~Millie, past:~~~

Millie was dating a guy named Bradley before she met Moxxie��actually he was the reason she even met Moxxie again after so long.

Her and Bradly were never meant to be forever, they were just fooling around for a while.

None of Millie’s boyfriends ever lasted long. She was always told she was “too much” and she “drove them away.”

And who knows, maybe she did. Maybe she was too much for people and got “too carried away” like her parents have always told her.

She couldn't help being a little…much. It's just who she is.

She was prepared to never find someone who really wanted to stick around… that is until she met him.

Her and Bradly were taking a walk together after their date.

Bradly kept going on about sex and how good he is at it and new things they could try- not that he'd ever hear about that from her.

Because he's only average at best and he wouldn't even let her get a word in the conversation.

She almost completely lost it on him when suddenly she heard a gunshot-

“Get down.” She says, pushing Bradly to the ground. Looking up she sees a smaller imp like herself with a sniper rifle in one of the buildings. “I got this.” She says, releasing Bradly.

She ran up to the building, quickly climbing up to the window and jumped at the imp.

“What the!?”

She tackled the imp to the ground.

“Millie?” Moxxie asks once they met face to face.

Millie blinked. “Moxxie?” She asks back, climbing off him.

“What are you doing in pride?” Moxxie asks.

“That’s…none of your concern, what are you doing trying to kill my boyfriend?” Millie asks.

Moxxie’s eyes widened. “THAT'S your boyfriend?!” He asks. “Do you have any idea how many people want him dead?”

“I don't give a shit.” She says. . "I dont care if Satan himself wants him dead! I'm still not going to let you get away with it!"

Blitzø is currently struggling with Bradly and calls out for Moxxie. “Little help here?!” He asks.

“Uhm, I should go.” Moxxie says awkwardly. standing up so he can help his boss.

Millie grows angry. “Oh no you don't.” She growled. She pounced at Moxxie again, tackling him and pinning him to the ground again. “If anyone is goin’ to kill my boyfriend, it’ll be me.” She says.

Moxxie struggles against her, but he’s not strong enough to overpower her.

Then he looks up… “I’m sorry.” He says, kicking a table behind them, causing a vase to fall on Millie’s leg which catches her off guard, she moves off him and Moxxie shoots at the rope connecting the very old chandelier to the ceiling.

It falls on Millie’s head as she couldn’t dodge it fast enough.

Moxxie ran out quickly to kill Bradly, but she would not be so easily defeated.

Her head was bleeding and so was her leg, but she didn’t care; She pulled the heavy chandelier off her and jumped out the window of the building to stop Moxxie in his tracks.

Moxxie had just made it out of the building when she jumped on top of him again, she grabs his gun and points it at him- it’s quickly taken from her however by a taller Imp.

She was much stronger than these two assholes, they had no idea who they were dealing with! She quickly punched Blitzø to get the gun back to point at Moxxie.

Moxxie had another gun in his jacket, he quickly pointed it at her.

Millie sees that Bradly had run off without her…figures, that fucking coward.

Blitzø moved out of the way of the two’s stalemate. But decides to watch and see what will happen instead of chasing after Bradly.

“Sir, the target got away! What are you doing?” Moxxie says, lowering his gun.

“Yeah. It appears he did.” Blitzø says. “What a shame.”

Millie lowers her weapon too. “You two aren't very good at this, are you?” She asks.

“I mean, usually we're alright.” Moxxie says

“I’m Blitzø, the o is silent.” He says, shaking Millie's hand.

She turns to look at this ‘Blitzø’ person. “uh, hi.” She says in annoyance.

“What are you doing?” Moxxie asks him.

“You're not so bad in combat. What's your name?” Blitzø asks her.

“Millie.” She says.

“That was awfully impressive, Millie.” Blitzø says.

“Oh… thanks?” She says, trying not to take the compliment too seriously.

“Sir?” Moxxie tries to get Blitzø's attention.

“Ever think of becoming an assassin?” He asks.

“What?” Millie asks.

“What?! But, sir she just-“

“You have the skills for it and the resilience. We could really use someone like you on our team.” Blitzø says, ignoring Moxxie completely. He hands her a card with their number.

Millie found the offer oddly intriguing, but also, it was weird coming from someone who just tried to take out her boyfriend. Regardless, she takes the card. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“And what about the client?” Moxxie asks in annoyance.

“They’ll get over it.” Blitzø says before turning back to Millie, taking Moxxie's gun back. “I look forward to your call.” He smiled, then left with Moxxie.

~~~A couple weeks later~~~

Millie needed money, her and her roommate could barely make rent every month with the funds they've been getting. And assassins can get decent money if they can get enough kills.

And she’s really good at killing, so she decided and called Blitzø. “Blitzø, I’d like to discuss the job offer.”

~~~~~

Millie and Moxxie hardly talked at all when she started at I.M.P, they’d bump heads every now and then, but for the most part they’d just stay out of each other’s way.

Any time Moxxie attempted to say anything to her, she'd simply ignore him or respond in a way to make sure he knew they were not friends.

Until…

They had to sneak into a fancy gala with ballroom dancing, fancy people, and champagne; not a place Millie would typically find herself in.

Moxxie however was a pro, he got all the costumes, taught them how to properly drink from a wine glass, and even how to dance or decline a dance properly.

It was awkward having to work with someone she got so mad at, but she had to pay the bills somehow.

They entered the party in their disguises, and Millie was honestly shocked that she wasn't discovered as a fraud the second they walked in.

She could never fit in with people like this, she was messy and plain. She couldn't talk fancy or walk right! She thought for sure she'd get them caught.

Moxxie looked perfect, blended in with them so well. How did he manage that?

“Okay, you two dance. I’m going to mingle. Keep an eye out for him, and remember the signal.” Blitzø instructs them both.

Millie and Moxxie give each other a look. Millie with irritation, Moxxie with anxiety. “But, sir, we-“

“Don’t question me, Moxxie.” Blitzø says. “Just do it.”

Moxxie sighs. “Yes, sir.”

Moxxie turned to Millie, so she took his hand reluctantly; They got to the dance floor and started dancing as what was instructed of them.

Moxxie danced just as well as anyone else in the room, it was…annoying! But oddly attractive also.

“You’re not too bad at this.” Millie says to him.

Moxxie shrugs. “I grew up going to fancy places like this.”

“Where did you say you grew up again?” Millie asks.

“Greed; I was born in wrath, but most of my life was spent at home.” Moxxie explains.

“So, were you homeschooled?” She asks.

Moxxie thinks about it. “I guess, yeah.”

“Well, that explains it.” She laughs.

“Explains what?” Moxxie asks.

“I don’t know, you’re just so…” Millie hesitates.

“What?” Moxxie asks.

“Well, you’re weird.” She says.

“Oh.” Moxxie deflates.

“Not in a bad way!” Millie says. “It’s…charmin.”

Moxxie clears his throat. “Oh, thanks? I think.”

“I look ridiculous.” Millie chuckles. “I’m not cut out for fancy shit like this.” She says.

Moxxie raises an eyebrow as he looks her up and down. “What are you talking about? You look bea- uh, perfect.” He says.

“Oh.” Millie’s eyes widen as her face reddens further. “Thank you…”

The two of them went quiet for a few more minutes, things were so awkward between them.

“Look, Millie. I’m sorry I tried to kill your boyfriend, and hit you with a chandelier.” Moxxie says. “It wasn’t personal, I was just doing my job. Can we please work this out so we can start over?” He asks. “We’re going to be working together, we should be friends.”

Millie rolls her eyes. “You think I’m mad at you because of Bradly? I’m not. If I got mad at everyone who tried to kill my boyfriend, I’d always be angry. He gets himself in those situations all the time, I’m surprised he isn’t dead yet!”

“Oh…then. Why are you mad at me?” Moxxie asks.

“It’s stupid.” She says.

“Please tell me?” Moxxie asks. “If I don’t know what it is, how are we going to work it out?” He asks.

Millie shrugs, not wanting to admit the truth.

Moxxie leans closer to her. “I’m sure it’s not as stupid as you think. And if it is, I will take it seriously, I promise.”

“When we first met…you told me you’d visit me. I waited for you every year but…you never did. You just forgot about me.” Millie explains.

“Oh.”

“I was going to ask you for your address so I could send you letters, you were just so different from the other boys I knew.” She explains. “I know we were just kids and it’s stupid and irrelevant now, but-“

“I’m sorry, Millie.” Moxxie interrupts. “I would have visited you, I promise. I thought about you a lot, I just-“ He sighs, “my mom died a few months after I met you. My dad was very protective of me and he didn’t want me to go back to wrath after that. The last time I was there, I was sixteen, and I wasn’t sure you’d even remember me after so long.”

Millie’s eyes widened. “Oh shit. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, you didn’t know.” Moxxie says.

They danced quietly for a moment.

“Do you remember when I broke my arm?” Moxxie asks.

“Well, yeah, the bone was sticking out of it! Kids were panicking and throwing up, but you didn’t even cry! I was mighty impressed.” She says.

“I kept the cast in my dresser drawer because I wanted something to remember you by…kinda sounds creepy when I say it out loud.” He realized.

“It's not creepy, that’s really sweet actually.” She says. “Didn’t realize I made such an impression.”

“Millie, how can you not see that you’re always the highlight in any room?” He asks. “With such a unique personality and that beautiful smile, your eyes…you're impossible to forget or ignore.”

Millie looks up at him, face redder than usual. She thought she should say something to him, but Blitzø waved at her. “Blitzø gave the signal, there he is.” She says.

They smiled at each other, and the plan was back in motion.

And their friendship was also restored and work became a lot more tolerable.

~~~~~~~

It took Moxxie months to admit his feelings to Millie, but she knew he liked her, everyone did!

Blitzø made subtle remarks about them constantly, calling them ridiculous nicknames and telling them to get a room.

Even Loona made comments about them, more cynical remarks towards Moxxie about how Millie would never go out with someone like him.

It’s true she’s never dated someone like Moxxie, but there was just something about him that made her feel so genuine, so seen.

But Millie was already with someone else, someone who proved not to be worth her time, and she knew if she wanted to ask Moxxie out, she had to make the first move, and she needed to break up with Bradly.

She walked to the bus stop to head to her own apartment after a long conversation with Bradly. It was pouring outside, and she was soaked without a hood on her jacket. She honestly wasn't expecting rain.

“Millie?” She heard suddenly behind her.

She looks behind her and sees Moxxie holding a black umbrella.

“Oh…hey, Mox.” She says, moving closer to get underneath said umbrella. “Thought you would have gone home with Blitzø and Loona.”

Moxxie shrugs. “I needed some time alone. It's been a long day.”

“Oh. Should I give you some space?” Millie asks.

Moxxie shakes his head. He moved the umbrella over to Millie to protect her from the rain. “No, you’re okay.”

“Thanks.” She says. “So, why was today such a bad day for you? You've been off your game all day.”

“It’s the anniversary of my mom dying.” He says.

“Oh.”

“Yeah…” he hands her the umbrella and sits down on the bench.

“Moxxie?” Millie asks, sitting next to him.

Moxxie sniffs pitifully. “She didn't send me any dimes.” He covers his eyes and drops his head in defeat.

“dimes?” She asks.

"You know how some people think the dead sends you messages?" Moxxie asks.

Millie nods. "Sure."

“Well, every year since her death, I've found as many dimes as my age every November 6th. But, this year, I couldn't find any.” He explains.

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.” Millie says.

Moxxie sighs. “She must be so disappointed in me!” He says. “She never wanted me to kill anyone…at least not for a living.”

“Sometimes you have to kill people.” She says.

“I guess…” Moxxie says, crossing his arms, obviously not feeling any better.

“If this is how you feel, why did you become an assassin?” She asks.

Moxxie shrugs. “I'm good at it, the same people would die anyway…and everyone has to find a way to survive, working is part of that.”

Millie nods. “Yeah, I get it. I moved here to make a life for myself, but this is the best job I've been able to get. My parents think I'm a complete failure.” She says.

“I know how you feel.” Moxxie says.

The bus arrived and the two of them got on.

“How does your pa feel about your work?” Millie asks once they sat down.

Moxxie shrugs. “I don't know, he wanted me to work with him, but he hasn't been the same since mom died.”

Millie nods. “Ah, I see.”

“What does Bradly think of your work?” Moxxie asks.

“Screw what he thinks, he's a jackass.” Millie says. “A good for nothin shithead.”

Moxxie licks his lips. “You said it, I didn't.”

A few minutes pass with smaller talks of life and the world around them

Millie learned about Moxxie's true passion for music and theater.

He was so interesting, she loved that about him.

She talked about home and even shared some of her most treasured memories she had with them.

He was a very good listener, and made her feel so special, so important.

Moxxie didn't talk about his childhood much, but instead kept asking about hers. She naturally assumed he didn't have a lot of stories and just found her family entertaining.

“This is my stop.” Moxxie suddenly says, getting up to leave the bus.

“Moxxie wait! Your umbrella.” She holds the umbrella towards him.

Moxxie stops, but he doesn’t take it. “Keep it, I’ll be like Gene Kelly.”

“Who’s that?” Millie asks.

“You don’t know who Gene Kelly is? Singing in the rain? An American in Paris? Summer stock?” He asks, shocked.

She shrugs.

“Oh, Millie. I’m sorry but that needs to change. You have to see at least one of his movies.” He says.

Millie smiles. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, he’s an icon!” He says.

“Okay, I’ll watch one with you. But you have to watch Zombone killer X with me.” She says.

Moxxie smiles. “Alright, deal-“

Millie kisses his cheek. “Bring the movie, we’ll watch both on Friday at my place. Then we can…hang out.”

Moxxie took a step back. “Oh- um, but what about your boyfriend?”

“I broke up with him.” She says.

“Oh…I’m sorry to hear that.” Moxxie says.

“I’m not, I wasn’t in love with him or some shit, plus I have standards.” She scoffs. “I’ll see you Friday, Moxxie.” She says.

Moxxie smiles. “See you Friday.”

He got off the bus, then Millie went home.

That was the start of their new relationship.

She felt she finally found her equal, someone she could truly love and trust…

But now… She wasn't so sure…

~~~Millie: present~~~

What is she missing? What is it that she can’t understand?

Why did he hide his past from her?

“I have to go.” She says to Trixx before hanging up the phone.

She closed her eyes, she wished it wasn't true, she wished Moxxie never lied and that she could trust him again without questioning it.

But she wishes more than anything that he could be here to explain himself…

Tears fell down her face.

She misses him so much. Where in hell is he?!

~~~Moxxie:~~~

Moxxie started working with the mafia again, doing simple jobs like paperwork, gun cleaning and prepping, and occasionally supervising.

He didn’t mind this type of work, he’s always been able to handle anything anyone threw at him, he’s honestly just thankful he wasn’t being forced to hurt anyone like he used to.

He used to be primarily in charge of inventory…but Crimson said he wasn’t ready for it yet.

It was oddly suspicious. What is it Moxxie couldn’t see? What was his father scared of him seeing?

It had to be something his father knew would upset him, something…

Or someone.

“Dad?” Moxxie approached his father after they had returned to the mansion.

“What do you want, Mox?” Crimson asks, making himself a drink and sitting down after a long day of work.

“Why won't you just tell me what they're hauling?” Moxxie asks. “It’s not like I’ll tell anyone.”

“This again?” Crimson asks. “The answer is simple. It's none of your business.” Crimson says.

“Nothing you’ve been doing has made any sense. What is it that you want with me? Is there a purpose? Or are you just looking for control?” Moxxie asks. “If I’m going to be forced to be here, you could at least give me some sort of idea as to why-“

“Do you need to be little, Moxxie?” Crim asks him.

“What?” Moxxie asks, taking a step back.

Crimson sets the drink down and stands up. “You’re getting all worked up, you seem stressed. Maybe you need to relax.” He says.

“I don’t- I- no. I’m fine.” Moxxie answers, rubbing his arm anxiously.

“You sure? You had a long day.” Crim says, gripping his son’s chin.

“I don’t want to regress! Ever!” Moxxie says louder, hoping he’ll get the message. He moves away from his father’s grasp, almost falling backwards from his shaking form.

Crimson grabs Moxxie’s horn, causing him to whimper. “What’s the matter, Mox? You used to beg me to let you regress. Remember?”

Moxxie remembers a few incidents where he begged his father to let him regress… When it had been a while, Moxxie was at the brink of an emotional breakdown due to the constant headaches, emotional stress, and anxiety he was feeling throughout the week.

After he regressed, he’d suddenly feel a lot better, more relaxed and energetic by the end-

This was not always the case however, sometimes it would lead to what people called: ‘impure regression’ which basically just means ‘baby isn’t happy.’

Of course Moxxie knows now that all regression is valid and pure, and having negative emotions or struggling with flashbacks or bad thoughts while in headspace, does not mean he’s wrong or ‘impure’. He just has emotions, and that was okay.

Usually, when emotions get out of control like this, people slip into their headspace involuntary; but, since Moxxie’s regression is always being controlled, he can’t just slip into headspace if he needs to- it just builds up over time.

Which causes him unbearable emotional pain.

~~~Past~~~

His father was hosting a party after one of their big heists. Moxxie had helped a lot with this one, killed so many people, got them so much money, he didn’t leave his father’s side… and at the moment, his mind just wouldn’t listen to reason. It wanted to regress and nothing else could help him.

He tried to keep calm during the drinking and the talking, interacting, introductions, smiling, exc- but, he couldn’t take it anymore! His head hurt far too much!

Moxxie hid behind the staircase to try and calm himself down, he had to stay strong for his own sake.

“He’s here, Crimson.” Alessio says, suddenly appearing in front of him.

Fucking snitch. Moxxie needed to be alone to calm down, why couldn't he see that?!

“What the fuck is going on with you?” Crimson asks his son once he got to him. “You’re supposed to be celebrating, kid.”

Moxxie took some deep breaths, tryingdesperatelynot to cry. “I’m sorry, Sir. I really am. I just- I can’t- I-“

“Spit it out, Mox.” His father spouts harshly. “You can’t what?”

“Please, sir. I can’t do this anymore, can I please just be little for just a little while, please?” Tears fall down Moxxie’s face, he couldn’t face his father as he asked, he just wanted to calm down, but he couldn’t! He panicked and he was stressed the hell out!

Crimson sighs. “For Satan's sake. That’s what you’re so upset about?” Crimson asks. “You want to regress?”

Moxxie nods. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to disappoint you. I just need a break. Please, Dad?”

“It’s that bad, huh?” Crimson asks softly, holding Moxxie’s shoulders.

Moxxie nods again. Tears continue to fall, Moxxie tries to dry them with his sleeve, but it won’t stop as his eyes are pleading with his father for a break.

Crimson’s voice remains calm and surprisingly comforting. He rubs his arms gently. “Alright, alright. Calm down, Moxxie.” Crimson takes Moxxie’s chin. “Go upstairs, I’ll be up there in a minute to take care of you.”

Moxxie nods. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” He obeyed his father and went upstairs. He just wanted to feel better again.

~~~

Moxxie waited in his room as Crimson told him to. He continued to try and stop himself from crying, afraid his father may see him as incapable or… ‘unruly’ as he has said in the past.

Crimson showed up and found Moxxie on the bed. .

Moxxie knew Crimson must have been disappointed, and Moxxie wouldn't blame him...he'd never hated himself more if he was honest.

“Mox?” Crimson asks.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” Moxxie says. “I didn’t want to disappoint you. I just-“

Crimson shakes his head. “It’s fine, Moxxie. You worked hard today. You did good, kid.”

“You’re not mad?” Moxxie asks.

“Why would I be mad? It’s not like you can control it, your little dumb brain just wants to be turned off, that’s all.” Crimson says. “If this is what it takes to get your best, it’s fuckin’ worth it.” Crimson says.

Moxxie nods, he’s at least glad his father isn’t upset with him.

But, he hated being little, it was scary and he liked being in control of his own mind; but he couldn’t stand the repression symptoms anymore. It was too much!

Crimson looked him over and kissed his cheek. “Quiet time.”

~~~Present:~~~

Moxxie didn’t want to live like that, where things got so bad he had to be a child again in order to feel better.

That's why he printed out all those breathing exercises, sung to himself so oftem, and tried therapy! He needed to get better in a way that didn't involve regression.

Crimson had too much control… he couldn’t keep letting him have it.

He and Alessio think they can control him, but they can’t!

“Sir.” Alessio walked in, making Crimson release Moxxoe's horn.

“What is it?” Crimson asks.

“He needs another shot before it completely wears off.” Alessio says, gesturing to Moxxie.

“What?” Moxxie asks. This would be the third time they gave him a shot…what was it for?

And why is he only now noticing the way Alessio and Crimson are looking at each other? It was the way Millie’s parents looked at each other...the same way Millie looked when she looked at him.

Moxxie's eyes widen. Were they…?

“The only question is, will Moxxie listen, or are we going to have to do this the hard way?” Crimson asks Moxxie condescendingly.

Moxxie looks at Alessio, then at Crimson. “What is going on between you two?” He asks, ignoring Crimson's comment.

“Excuse me?” his father asks.

“Are you two together? Is that why you took me? To make me part of this weird family you're building with him?!” Moxxie asks angerly.

Crimson slaps Moxxie across the face, causing him to hit his head on the floor. “You seriously need to start learning to mind your own fucking business!” Crimson says.

Alessio kneels on the floor next to him: “Quiet time, Moxxie.” he whispers.

~~~Little Moxxie, Alessio & Crimson: later~~~

No, no, pease!” Moxxie begs. “No shot!” Moxxie shouts at Alessio.

Alessio had taken Moxxie to their medical room to give him the shot, thinking it would be fairly simple, and he could give Crimson some time to calm down, but the little was fighting Al with everything he had, which was more than Alessio thought.

Moxxie hissed, scratched, and finally bit Alessio's hand.

“ow!" Alessio yelped. "Moxxie, you’ve been so good lately, why are you being such a brat?” Alessio asks, his voice was calm but his words were mean!

“I’ huwt! Don’ wan it!” Moxxie cries out. “Don’ nee’ it!” he panicked.

“Moxxie, I’m going to count to three, if you don’t comply and take your shot willingly, you will be in a time out. One…two…”

Moxxie backed up. “No!” He cries.

“Moxxie…” Alessio warns again.

With the little saying nothing and still trying to get away, Alessio sighs. “Okay, that’s three-“

“What the hell is going on in here?” Crimson asks, swinging the door open violently.

“Moxxie is refusing to take his shot.” Alessio explains to him. "He's scratching, hissing, and biting."

“Moxxie, are you asking for a punishment?” Crimson asks harshly, crossing his arms.

Moxxie shakes his head quickly. “No…”

“Then be good and take your shot, now!” Crimson shouted.

Moxxie cries more, but he does as he’s told, he shakily gives Alessio his arm.

He hates shots! They hurt so much! He hates needles!

Alessio takes Moxxie’s arm for a second before pulling him forwards and pricking him in the neck instead.

Moxxie cries out, it hurts worse than he thought it would!

“See, that wasn’t so bad.” Crimson says. “Now, is there anything you want to say to Alessio?” He asks.

Moxxie crosses his arms, he doesn’t want to talk to Alessio, he betrayed him! He stuck a needle in his neck and didn’t say please or sorry. It wasn’t very nice at all!

“Fine, maybe you need a good long time out to think this over.” Crimson says, grabbing Moxxie’s wrist.

“No! M’sowy!” Moxxie says, breathing heavily.

“No, you don’t get to act like this, you know the rules of this house!” Crimson says. "You do not fight me and Alessio."

Moxxie cries, but reluctantly follows Crimson to one of the guest rooms.

Moxxie is shoved in the dark room violently and the door is slammed shut and locked.

“You are not to move until I come back, do not cross me!” His father warns.

Moxxie cries and hugs himself tightly, he looks around the room and it’s nothing but pitch black darkness…

And he’s all alone.

He wanted his Daddy, or Alessio, or even Chaz to come get him and tell him everything was okay again…

But…

Something was wrong, and nothing would be okay again until he found out what was wrong.

What happened to him? Why was daddy and Al doing this to him?

The darker it got, the scareder Moxxie was... he felt like he couldn’t breathe! His head felt light and cold...

Like he was drowning!

He thought he heard something!

If he was in a better mindset, he may have thought it was the wind...

But, what if it wasn't? He didn't want to die!

He hated the dark!

He clawed at the door, screaming and begging for someone to let him out but to no avail.

He cried harder and harder untill he eventually passed out from it.

~~~That night, Quint and Moxxie:~~~

Quint knew he should probably stay out of this.

Crimson would kill him if he found out what he was about to tell Moxxie.

And maybe if stu was still there, he'd care but he's lost all meaning in his life.

Moxxie however has someone left to live for, still had a drive and purpose.

And he needed to be reminded of why he can't give up.

Quint overheard Alessio and Crimson talking about how they had locked Moxxie up in his ‘new room’ for the night, so he knew where to find him.

He climbed into the window, all the furniture had white sheets over it, to hide what the two had in mind for Moxxie.

He finds the little one fast asleep on the cold hard floor by the door.

Quint took a deep breath as quietly as possible, almost changing his mind… but, he grabbed Moxxie and covered his mouth tightly to be sure he wouldn't make any noise.

Little Moxxie screamed and cried, squirming as he tried to pry his boney hands off him.

Quint pulled out his phone and used type-to speech to say the phrase: “Wake up.” To make Moxxie snap out of it.

He drops Moxxie as he snaps out of it. “Wh- Quint? What’s wrong? What happened?” Moxxie asked. “Where am I?” He asks.

Quint gestures for Moxxie to be quiet, then he gestures for Moxxie to follow him.

Moxxie raises an eyebrow. “Okay…?”

He follows Quint, who climbed out the window.

He had no idea where he was, but he decided to follow Quint despite not being sure if he trusted the shark…what did he have left to lose?

~~~~~~~

Quint led Moxxie through the yard, near where all the trucks were, passing where target practice was held.

They walked into one of the sheds, Quint picked up a clipboard that held a list of people's names, handing it to Moxxie to look over.

“Who are they?” Moxxie asks him.

Quint signs: “Littles they sold.”

Moxxie’s mouth hung open. “He’s trafficking littles?” Moxxie asks.

Quint nods, and points to the large trucks. ‘We take them from anonymous sellers and sell them to those who can't pass the background checks to adopt their own littles.’

If Moxxie wasn’t so overwhelmed and shocked, he may have asked more questions. But, only one came to mind: “Why would you tell me this?” Moxxie asks.

Quint sighs, then answers: ‘You’re the one who cares about being good. I just thought you should know.’

Moxxie nods, feeling horrified that people could even do this. ‘Thank you.’ Moxxie signs.

Maybe Quint was a better person than he thought...maybe he did care.

He needs to stop this somehow, needs to help these littles find a way out! He can't let this continue to happen!

Quint nods. ‘Let’s get you back.’ He signs, looking around nervouly.

“We can't! I-“ Moxxie tried to argue.

‘Don’t make me regret telling you.’ Quint signs, face serious.

Moxxie nods, and follows Quint back to the room he was locked in.

They climbed back through the window and Quint got his phone out and moved it closer to Moxxie to record his voice.

“Wait- no.” Moxxie says, understanding what Quint was asking.

‘Can’t cause suspicion, you need to be little again.’ Quint signs.

Moxxie sighs in defeat and speaks into the phone: “quiet time.”

And it repeats, causing Moxxie to regress once again…

Notes:

"You can run into my arms

It's okay, don't be alarmed

Come into me (there's no distance in between our love)

So gon' and let the rain pourI'll be all you need and more

Because When the sun shines, we shine together

Told you I'll be here forever

Said I'll always be your friend

Took an oath, I'ma stick it out to the end

Now that it's raining more than everKnow that we'll still have each other

You can stand under my umbrella." -Umbrella, Rihanna

@todayimfour

#itty bitty imps #helluva boss age regression #helluva boss agere #father knows best #little!Moxxie

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musewritingsforyou · 1 year

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Love Language

*I do not own any CM characters

Summary: reader thinks about how their relationship with Spencer has evolved through touch!

Warnings: talk of past drug use, crying, angst i guess, but mostly fluff

word count: 2.2 K

A/N: this was pretty fun to write, it is mostly little flashback scenes and I love doing those. I did this after seeing @veraiconcos‘s writers challenge and thought that was super cool, all of her things are amazing so definitely check out her blog!

enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Spencer Reid's love language was never touch. I suppose the burden of all his knowledge is knowing exactly the amount of germs passed by a single touch, and which of those germs are alive, and which could get him sick, and which sickness could take root, and, well you get the point. When I first started at the BAU Spencer still seemed to me like a shy little kid. We were the same age, I like to tell him at least once a day, I'm actually a full month older than him. I think that's one of the many reasons that him and I became friends so fast. My first friend was of course, JJ. After all she is very close in age to me and Spencer, and is one of the first contacts I had with the BAU. She told me before I had met any of the team, that Spencer was, well, different. She made sure to warn me that he doesn't mean anything by his little actions of avoidence. It's just his way of keeping himself safe. This I understood.

The first time I was formally introduced to the team was much before I joined. The interview process is understandably long, they need to know a person before just throwing them in. After all, these people spend more time together working cases then they do in their own homes. -

“Hi, i’m Y/N , the new agent here” I shook the hands of everyone on the team but Spencers, remembering what JJ had told me. To him I smiled and gave a little wave.

“The number of pathogens that can be passed from a-” Spencer after seeing me wave to him began to do just what I suspected. When confronted with an uncomfortable situation, he began to hide behind his wall of facts.

“It's actually much safer to kiss” I continued for him and the look on his face was priceless.

“Yeah, yes, exactly.” A rose colored blush crept up onto his cheeks as he smiled at me.

“Oh great, now there's two of them” Morgan laughed at us before JJ pulled them away for another case.

The first time I saw someone actually touch Reid was when they returned home from the Tobias Hankle case. It hurt me to see Spencer (now my friend of almost four months) so absolutely traumatized. He would never say this to me or anyone else for that matter, but even at the time he came home, he was still feeling the effects of the drugs he was given.-

“Here they come, here they come” Anderson walked over to me as the team approached the glass doors of the BAU. I was surprised to see that Spencer was with them. I had assumed they would have taken him straight home, or maybe to the hospital.

“Welcome back, I'm glad you're alive, Reid,” he barely opened his eyes and nodded at me before sitting down in his desk chair. I waved JJ over to me.

“How bad?” she sighed and gave me the classic worried mom look we always tease her for.

“Very. I didn't think I would ever see him like this”

“Im so sorry JJ. do you think he’ll be okay?”

“Honestly, I don't know, but i'm going to drive him home, maybe if i'm lucky I can convince him to let me take him to the hospital. I'll call you, okay?”

It worried me even more to know that JJ too, was aware of how badly he was hurt. She turned her back to me and grabbed her coat from her office before going to Spencer's desk. From where I was standing I could just barely make out what she was saying.

“Spence, come on, let's get you out of here”

“JJ I have paperwork to do” he sounded dazed, like he wasn't really sure where he was.

“Its okay Spence, I’m sure Morgan wouldn't mind a few extra”

She gingerly took the files from his hand and helped him sling his satchel over his shoulder. Then, it happened. As they walked out of the room he stumbled. Just a little. Barely enough for anyone else to notice, but I was watching the two of them so carefully as they left I couldn't help but take an involuntary step towards them. JJ took a firm hold of his arm, and put her other free hand on his back. I could see him flinch for just a second, and then, his body relaxed into her and he let her guide him from the room.

After that night I became a full member of the team. Spencer didn't take any time off. He never went to the hospital, although Penn, JJ, and I tried countless times to get him to. After that night when he let JJ help him, when he let her touch him, he never seemed to be overly bothered by a handshake every once and awhile. The first time I touched him was still a while after that, I think my 15th case in the field. -

“Spencer it wasn't your fault.” He looked at me through his black rimmed glasses with a sad and blank expression.

“Then why would he address it to me?” this whole case I knew something was wrong. After Gideon had not shown the first time, JJ told me that he had resigned, but at that point Spence still hadn't told anyone about the letter.

“Because he knew that you needed to hear the news from him. Not from JJ, or me, or Hotch, or anyone else. There's nothing you could have done to convince him to stay Spence, he's even more stubborn than you are”

I paused to observe him in the dark silence of the jet. I brought my hand to his arm tentatively but when he relaxed and seemed comfortable with the touch, I gave it a little squeeze and smiled at him. -

Now, after Gideon had left I knew it. I had a crush on Spencer Reid. This came as no surprise at all to JJ or Penelope, but to me, it was quite the shock. He had now become comfortable with the little touches of assurance that I gave him often. More comfortable even than with JJ or Morgan. Sometimes I noticed he would even reciprocate the gesture. When he noticed I was tired or stressed or just having a bad day, he would put a hand on the crook of my elbow and give it a little squeeze. Just like I did that night on the jet. To other people this seems like nothing. But to me, and to him as well, this was everything.

When Spencer stayed in Vegas to investigate his father, JJ left. JJ as Spence and I’s best friend, is always a source of comfort and a safe haven in the stormy darkness that is our lives. When she left she pulled me aside away from Spencer and put a hand on her swollen belly. -

“ Y/N , I need to take care of Spence for me, okay?” I chuckled.

“JJ, of course, what do you think I’m here to do?” she looked at me with a deadpan stare.

“That's not what I mean. You know what was happening with him after Tobias right?” I nodded, the memories of his mood flashes, and anger, and sadness all coming to the forefront of my mind.

“he‘s going to need you to make sure that he doesn’t do anything stupid. Not Morgan, not Rossi, not Hotch, you. You are the only person on this team- in this world-. That he trusts right now. And you are the only person that could talk him off of that ledge.”

“I promise, JJ. I’ll keep him safe” She nodded at me but the worried expression on her face remained. -

JJ was worried for good reason as it turned out. I kept a close eye on Spencer as we looked into his past. The boys were all there to focus on the case. To solve what was in front of them. I was there more to focus on Spencer. There was one night. The night after we found his father, something in my brain just told me it was not going to be a good night for him. There was something in the coloring of his face, the way his posture was collapsed and the circles around his eyes were so dark, it told me all that I needed to know. -

I walked out into the hallway of our hotel and stopped in front of Spencer's door. The others were all asleep, and it was nearing one in the morning. But something told me that he needed my help right now. JJ’s voice in the back of my head reminded me that I needed to help him, I was the only one who could help him. I knocked three times on his door softly. I waited a minute before knocking again, with a little more force, and I heard some shuffling in the room before the door opened.

“ Y/N? What are you doing?” I walked inside the room without an invitation and sat down on the foot of his bed. The sheets were undisturbed and he was still in his work clothes though the tie was draped over a chair in the corner and his shoes were by the door.

“Talk to me” I looked up from my hands and continued.

“I don't mean, about the case, or your dad. I mean about you. I need you to convince me that you are okay”

“Who says I'm not?” I rolled my eyes at him and gestured to the chair across from me.

“I do. And as one of your best friends, your closest colleague, and someone who likes you, a lot. I think that should mean something to you” the last part slipped out a little fast and completely without me thinking of the repercussions.

“You like me?” he gave a faint smile that I could only partially see in the dimly lit hotel room.

“Yes, but that's not the point right now, we’re talking about you not me '' I brushed off his comment but I couldn't help the smile and blush that came across on my face.

“Im struggling” his voice broke a little when he said it and it broke my heart to see him in such pain.

I walked over to the chair he was sitting in and pulled him up by the hand.

“I'm going to hug you now. Is that okay?”

His partial nod was good enough for me. -

I got him through that night. I talked him off the ledge that JJ had warned me of. And she was right. I was the only one who could have done that. When we came back from Las Vegas, although neither of us had said a word, something changed between us. We were more than just friends now, we both knew that, but beyond that, we weren't really sure what we were. He would call me when he needed someone to talk him down, I would call him when I needed someone to talk me down. I would show up at his apartment any hour of the day to help him, and I knew that he would do the same. One of those nights when it just so happened that the both of us needed a little talking down after a hard case, I drove myself over to his apartment to find him on the couch crying.

To see him crying was something that my tired, and broken heart couldn't take. I threw myself next to him on the couch and pulled him into a hug, no questions asked.

“I needed that.” I said as soon as I lifted my head from his shoulder.

“Me too” we were both still crying, but there was something about the atmosphere that had changed. We weren’t alone anymore. We spent hours like that, sitting there, my head on his shoulder, his arm around my back, not saying a word, just collecting ourselves as best we could. At some point in the night I looked over at the clock: 2:45 am

He looked to the clock as well and then over to me, and with a single tear streaming down his face he looked at me and said,

“If I asked you to stay, would you?” I wiped the tear from his cheek.

“You don't even need to ask” he brought both of his hands to my cheek and pulled me into what I think is the most passionate kiss I have ever received.

That night told us both what we had become. It was no longer little arm touches or calls in the middle of the night. It was waking up to him beside me, seeing his hair ruffled from sleep and his eyes clouded by exhaustion. It was the little worried kisses he gave me in the field and the little squeal of happiness that Penelope made when I told her we were moving in together.

When I first met Spencer I wondered to myself if he would ever be comfortable with touch. But now as his sleeping body lays next to me and instinctually pulls me in closer, I know that there was never any reason to worry. Because even before, when the most contact I would get was arm touches in the midst of a panic, it was enough. It helped me learn that although not everyone wants or shows grand gestures. There are other ways, sometimes even better ways to say, I love you.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds

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kokehitsugi · 2 months

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ok im going to talk about orange county (2002)

ok specifically im going to talk about lance, shaun’s older brother and ultimate failwife of the movie because jesus christ do i love a strung out bitch.

i’ll talk more at length when its not 2am, but i found it super interesting that they make their shitty parents so obvious and front & center about the fact that they definitely more than likely neglected and fucked up their eldest son and then did it again to their youngest. With less success mind you, Shaun seems pretty well rounded if not a little quirky due to his upbringing and general califronia-isms. But Lance on the other hand. Lance….

We’re introduced to him begging his little brother for a piss test for god’s sakes

He mentions his parole officer at multiple points, I wish we got a little background so I had the pleasure of finding out what the hell he went to jail for in the past. Anyway.

Their mom is shown to be an emotionally manipulative alcoholic, with a history of sabotaging any chance of her sons leaving home. Lance gets high later on and starts rambling on about wanting to start a clothing brand or something or other, which I’m sure he actually does, and talks about a different clothing designer that went off to live in hawaii etc etc

he also goes on a weird mini ramble about how much he loves his brother and they dont say it enough “ITS NOT THE DRUGS MAN….” he loves Shaun he LOVES HIS FAMILY HE WANTS TO MAKE THEM PROUD HE WANTS TO BE SUCCESSFUL…

With how their mom treats them and how devastatingly hooked he is on the random shit he takes— that’s obviously not going to happen anytime soon, and Shaun says as much, which does end up hurting Lance’s feelings ( even though he shouldnt have burned the goddamn stanford admissions building down in the first place but i digress ).

Shaun talks idly about wanting to go to college and their mom immediately flies into an entire tizzy, immediately whining about how she’s going back to bed to rot and how she doesn’t want him to leave, I can only imagine how Lance was treated growing up— and although he doesn’t seem terribly bothered about not going to college and frying his brain to death on drugs, I’m sure there is something there…

How can I not be completely enamored with a drugged out sad failure of a man who can’t and won’t bear to face his severely alcoholic mother while also destroying himself on various uppers. While their dad just completely fucks off. Their dad is barely present, Shaun tells him to his face that he doesn’t do anything for them and he just kinda shrugs it off at first- mostly because he assumes Shaun wants to be “nothing but a broke writer” and only cares about money but still. he ends up pulling through after a rekindling fling with their mom but both seem fairly relieved when he ends up not going off to school…which yes ultimately is good for Shaun!!! but still…geez…how supportive…

It just makes me think…it just makes me ponder… what could have lance and shaun’s childhoods been like…i don’t think it’s ever stated how old lance is, but i’m guessing he’s meant to be at least twice shaun’s age or something like that…

shaun obviously loves his brother very much, shown after the …fire, he forgives him and (presumably) drags him back into the car after his fun escape incident…god…younger siblings forced to caretake for their idiot failure older siblings my beloved…shaun cares so much about his fucked up family really its something else.

oh the end…the end my beloathed…my beloved…

I love that he barely even gets to give his mom a hug at the end, she barely even reacts to it he barely even gets the chance to get his hands on her shoulders shes basically ignoring it oh my god goodnight i will edit this post in the morning

#roe.txt

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imsparky2002 · 9 months

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Ghouls and Monsters - The Human

(Fraidrien doesn't bother with any theatrics, just settling for waltzing on into the room.)

Fraidrien: 'Sup, dude? Bootiful day, isn't it.

(He offers a hand for Average Adrien to shake.)

Average Adrien: (Giggling) Yeah, I’ve had a pretty good day so far! What about you?

(His counterpart puts his hands behind his head.)

Fraidrien: Oh you know, the usual. Making sure Gabriel knows I hate his guts, helping my partners and family scare the crap out of people, bein cute.

Average Adrien: (Fiddling with his fingers) That…sounds really cool. I always wished I had the guts to really stand up to my father before he got arrested for basically running an underground terrorist group.

Fraidrien: (Grimacing) What a scumbag. Mine hates monsters and Halloween, sure, but he doesn't have the guts to do anything about it.

Average Adrien: It’s just…I don’t get why you can hate someone just because they look different! What kind of reason is that? Most monsters are perfectly nice people just trying to live their lives…and yet humans treat them like they’re the devil incarnate.

Fraidrien: Well, look at it this way. When you were really really little, and your dad most likely told you to look out for the monster under your bed, what did you do?

Average Adrien: I would check, but mostly because I thought maybe if I was nice we could be friends.

Fraidrien: And that's because even then, you knew there was a chance it was kind. There are people out there who just... don't operate like that. They hear or even think about something or someone being different and it scares them. Most are passive, but others decide to get violent. Our world's not as hostile, but we aren't exactly holding hands with monsters.

Average Adrien: Yeah…I just wish things could be different. The group I started with Jesse and Missy, for humans on the monsters’ side, is getting bigger. But the process is really slow. I just…wish things could be different.

Fraidrien: Hey, the fact that your numbers are growing shows that you’re already starting to make change happen! Any progress is good progress!

Average Adrien: We can only hope. But enough serious stuff, tell me more about your world? You mentioned siblings? I have Felix, but he's my cousin, and not someone who I want to associate with at the moment.

Fraidrien: Me and Felix get along ok. He's more of a vigilante than a hero. I take it that yours isn't so neutral?

Average Adrien: Yeah…let’s just say, he picked up where my father left off, and then some!

Fraidrien: (Wincing) Yeesh... hope you've got Nathalie at least.

Average Adrien: Yeah, her and my mom. Mom and dad are divorced, and she and Nathalie worked to take down his group. They’re both really great.

Fraidrien: (Catlike grin) You know, I could transform and give your Gabriel a little visit.

(Average Adrien looks confused but interested.)

Average Adrien: What do you mean transform?

Fraidrien: Cheshire! Time to spook!

(He goes through his creepy transformation into Cat Astrophe, who cackles madly and takes his head off.)

Average Adrien: (Stares in awe) Woah! That’s, like, one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen.

Cat Astrophe: (Putting his head back on.) Well, as you can tell, I was always a fan of the Pumpkin King, so I decided to become one myself!

(He pulls out his bag of sweets.)

Cat Astrophe: What tickles your fancy? Or, my fancy, I should say. Any hobbies?

(Average Adrien chews on a piece of candy before swallowing it.)

Average Adrien: I’m a bit of a movie buff myself and I like video games. I really wasn’t allowed to do much when my father had custody, so a lot of things are still new to me, but I love getting to try something for the first time! It’s always so exciting.

Cat Astrophe: Cheshire! Fright's out!

(He turns back into Fraidrien)

Fraidrien: Ooh! I love games too! Not just horror ones, mind you. I may love all things creepy, but I can have other interests.

(He then gets a warm smile.)

Fraidrien: It was really nice to meet me.

Average Adrien: It was nice to meet you too, other me!

(Maridoll and her partners show up to cuddle with him. Scarynette and KagaRing do the same with Fraidrien, holding a drawing that Nath did of DracLuka.)

Maridoll: Yes... it certainly was nice.

And that's the end of the Ghouls and Monsters crossover! Obviously, they will meet again, as shown in Weeby's Scare. Thanks as usual to her for helping with the dialogue. Make sure to reblog, reply, post and ask for more. @artzychic27 @msweebyness

#adrien agreste #adrien #human #monster au #monster #monstrous au #monstrous #school for monster #ghoul squad au #ghoul squad #miraculous ladybug #miraculous

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kmze · 3 months

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Thoughts on 3x12-3x22 ok lots of thoughts again! I will say I’m not totally sure how I feel about this half of S3. While I was mostly entertained and I enjoyed some of the storylines it did feel like the show was going through the motions for much of this half. I think it had to do with the plans changing with Klaus and wanting to keep him alive for the spin-off. The Evil!Alaric and ring-that-makes-you-murder plot were zzzzzz and Esther was eh as well. I’m also not an “original groupie” I found most of the family annoying or boring especially at this stage so that probably didn’t help (I do like them better on the spin-off particularly Klaus and Bekah). While I don't care about the triangle back and forth the Defan scenes were mostly great and I did enjoy the focus on Stefan's addiction both with bloodlust and his personality.

3x12

Well Bill Forbes I don’t forgive you!

This show loves its deadbeat Moms, I tell ya! Also did they really make Abby abandoning Bonnie about friggin' Elena!?! This has to be the worst season for Bonnie and I put all that blame on Plec and Dries because they can't stand Bonnie getting anything!

Um Stefan is being way too dramatic about Elena kissing Damon, like come on man. Maybe if you weren't terrorizing her for the last few months she wouldn't have gravitated towards Damon. Even if you want to try and excuse it like "he was compelled to turn it off" his humanity was on for his most recent terrorist activity of threatening to drive her off a bridge! Damon deserved to be punched in the face though, no issues with that.

3x13

Elijah talking about the “exquisite beauty” of Tatia like we don’t all know exactly what she looks like she’s a friggin’ doppelgänger!

Stefan going to shake Klaus hand like “we have a deal… ON OPPOSITE DAY!” The murder boyfriends are fighting.

3x14

Everytime Klaus talks about someone betraying him I just cannot… have you met you? I do love how un-moved Caroline is by any of his romantic gestures because of that fact too.

Well Esther if Bonnie is the only reason you’re out of your coffin why TF didn’t you invite her to your ball! Forever and ever mad Bonnie didn’t get to go to the ball and wear a pretty dress.

How did Klaus draw Caroline so fast lol

3x15

I like how Elena is like “but Elijah?!” and everyone is like “anyway, let’s dagger an original!” because I agree! The hell I care about Elijah, already stabbed them in the back once.

This Alaric subplot with Meredith and the ring that turns you into a serial killer plot is very confusing and boring.

Nice to see Elena facing some consequences for bringing the Salvatores into everyone's lives and their actions always negatively affecting her friends. Caroline is such a good friend by being able to protect Bonnie there, and not make Elena feel too bad while making a great point. I mean they could have easily manipulated Elijah into backing off by playing up the "humanity and morals" bullshit he pretends to adhere by.

3x16

It’s kind of weird how the show randomly started hinting at Matlena being romantic, Matt just throwing his hat in the ring since he’s got nothing better to do.

Damon is a horrible sober sponsor.

We have reached the very strange point in my rewatch where DAMON is the least annoying member of the trio right now. He seems to be the only one who understands his brother is an addict, in all forms of life. Like he said Stefan goes from one extreme to the other, he cannot do moderation. He's either the good brother or the ripper there's no middle ground (yet). As soon as Stefan found out Elena kissed Damon he went back to the extreme "good brother persona" which, maybe if you weren't so comfortable with Damon BEING IN LOVE WITH ELENA while you were together this wouldn't have happened, Stefan. He hammed it up in 3x14 with soulful glances and manpain, that obviously worked hook line and sinker since he made it all about Elena. Then the terror at having to be the one to turn Abby to the point Damon knew he had to do it because he doesn't care (neither does Elena but that's a whole nother conversation). Then when she saw him with blood feeding on a girl he acted like everything is ruined! What I'm trying to say is Stefan is insane.

3x17

Damon and Elena arguing about who's better at teaching Stefan self-control when the answer is NEITHER LMFAO!

Elena wanting Bonnie's help to help Ric unbelievable, fix your own fucking mess for once.

I like that Caroline is using all the methods Stefan taught her when she first turned. When she told Jamie that Abby needs him and to not avoid her so she maintains her humanity with human connection. Just like how Stefan brought Caroline to the swimming hole to be with Matt and convinced Bonnie to give her a daylight ring (I miss my babies this is all I can get right now *sigh*). In general though watching Caroline's vampirism storyline has been wonderful! I have even more appreciation for it during this rewatch.

3x18

Now Elena is making Ric killing Caroline's Dad about herself and how bad she feels ugh SHUT UP. I should have kept a tally on how often this happens. I wonder if Caroline ever uses this against Ric, because I would "you didn't do the dishes like you said you would" "well you killed my Dad"

Klaus being like "you're torturing technique is subpar and your skills are lacking" to Rebekah about how she's draining Damon of vervain CTFU!

RIP Sage and Finn you were tragic but cute.

3x19

Caroline being so proud of Matt tricking Rebekah with the decade dance LMFAO I mean she is the EASIEST person to manipulate but we all gotta start somewhere!

Eh Caroline it's not just Damon who doesn't care that killing Klaus will kill Tyler, it's all of them but you.

Okay fine the Delena motel kiss was a great scene, congrats universe you win this one. They actually have been more tolerable this half of the season for me, probably won't last but I haven't wanted to roll my eyes during their scenes recently so baby steps.

3x20

Elena being like "oh you're not bias or anything" about Caroline being team Stefan instead of team Damon as if she doesn't have every right to be! The fact that Elena never acknowledges that Caroline's hatred towards Damon is a big reason that I dislike her immensely.

I'm sorry but the salt ring Esther put is ashgghdjhbdhbv did she use a dump truck!?! Crying!

The 1920s decor must be getting to Klaus’ romantic side because he tried to proposition both of his boos tonight. Trying to get Caroline to run away with him even though she can’t stand him. Then calling him and Stefan “strange bedfellows” wanting to rekindle their flame from the ‘20s even though he hates him. Oh well!

Steroline crumb!

3x21

Klaus stomping around the porch before using a soccer ball and picket fence for darts really sells it. I just love when Klaus is over-the-top in a funny non-whining way, I could do without the yelling in so many of his scenes.

Tyler saving Elena and saying "I'm not your little bitch anymore" was a great scene for him and overall he's had such a great arc the past few seasons. He's also just so devoted to Caroline and they have a great romance, and I think it's one of the reasons I can never get into the KC scenes. Because I do get the appeal and they have some good scenes (I like the chemistry in the "rescue" scene this episode) but ultimately Caroline never shows anything besides an attraction to Klaus and that's not my vibe.

I know a lot of fandom thinks Elena should have chosen herself instead of picking a Salvatore and while I do agree with that (she needed to pick lots of therapy and anti-depressants) it's kind of fundamentally not who she is. Elena loves love and being in love and because of that she's incapable of choosing to be alone.

3x22

I’m confused when Tyler swapped with Klaus, I think they answer that next season though.

Bonnie saying she's done be pushed around YES! I wish we got a real dark!Bonnie storyline though...

Forwood "I will run with you" scene *tingle* *sniff*

I don’t know if Stefan wasn't so off balance battling between extremes this season with his bloodlust and ripper/good brother personalities he would have made the same decision that he did, to save Matt over Elena. Watching it all unfold in a rewatch binge like this I noticed way more instances of that being pointed out (especially by Damon). Look I've heard all the reasons to why Stefan let Elena die, and yes he let her DIE because no one knew she had vampire blood in her system and would come back (even then he know she didn't want to be a vampire). No matter how you spin it "he didn't want her to hate him for letting Matt die" "he always respected her choice and didn't want her to have survivor's guilt" "insert any 'actually it was really selfless excuse' you've read" the fact of the matter is he looked at the love of his life drowning and saved her friend instead. That is so CRAZY!!! That his need to be the "good brother who respects Elena's choices" outweighed her life. I have even seen that he didn't save her because he feels so much regret for forcing Damon to turn and taking that decision away from him, but like when has Stefan EVER respecting Damon's decision to die? Everything he went through this season is because he wouldn't let Damon die, hell the reason he's dead now is because he wouldn't respect that decision! I think Stefan's psyche is so fascinating and how he's essentially an "addict" in so many ways. He does get better at moderation between all of his extremes (personality and bloodlust) though in later seasons, but right now he is hella hella crazy. I think this scene was pretty detrimental to Stefan in re: Elena because it meant Damon was right he's the one who was going to keep Elena alive. All I'm saying is there's a reason Paul Wesley hates this scene.

Lines that made me laugh:

Damon: Insulting a bunch of dead witches not smart I made the same mistake first time I came here (Damon was so smug someone else got to be tortured by the witches for once)

Caroline: I can hear every word you're saying about Damon and the vampire gigolo. (you know she was mad about it too)

Tyler: What's he gonna do, draw you another picture? (Trevino delivers this line with perfection LMFAO)

#tvd rewatch #tvd spoilers #delena for ts #forwood for ts #S3 rewatch #3x12 - 3x22 #k rewatches tvd

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huanzhuyulu · 1 year

Video

youtube

While procrastinating on fic writing, as one does, I stumbled on this short but hilarious recap of HZGG2, which led me to more hilarious recaps of HZGG1 that you should read if you want a laugh: here

Some choice excerpts that made me laugh, mostly for the ON POINT observations on Er Kang’s drama queen tendencies:

Now, all the hiking and mountain climbing is too much for Ziwei after a while, so she gives up halfway and tells Xiaoyanzi to go ahead without her because she is just slowing them down.

By the way, those dangling hairs on either side of Ziwei’s head — not a good look. In fact, maybe that’s what’s slowing her down.

The Fu family gather again to decide what to do. For a head guard and an older brother, Er’kang is pretty hot-headed. He considers taking the matter to light without much reservation. Er’tai has a better idea, why don’t they bring the Yongqi (5th Prince) here and tell him the truth? The chance of people getting beheaded is lower that way.

Yongqi and Er’tai come to see Xiaoyanzi again; this time, she admits to lying to the emperor.

Yongqi is like, OH MY GOD What were you thinking? Pack your thing, we’re getting you outta here.

And Er’tai is like, how are we gonna explain to people if they find a princess missing, calm the freak down, you two.

Xiaoyanzi wonders in tears whether the emperor would really execute her if he found out the truth.

YONGQI & ER’TAI: *nod in unison* Yep, girl, he would.

Ziwei is shocked to learn NOW that Xiaoyanzi was shot by an arrow and mortally wounded. She breaks into tears and asks why no one bothered to tell her.

YONGQI: Really? You didn’t know?

ER’TAI: I thought Er’kang told you.

ER’KANG: I thought Er’tai told you.

Yep, so Ziwei beat herself up with worry and torment about Xiaoyanzi for days because these guys forgot to give her the one crucial piece of information in this mystery. By the way, I can understand why Er’tai thought Er’kang already told her, but why would Er’kang think that Er’tai told Ziwei anything at all? When has Er’tai ever hung out with Ziwei?

But even with his panicky earnest confession, Ziwei still says no. Er’kang is a nobleman, and he is not free to arrange his own marriage. It doesn’t matter if he likes her. I’ve got to say that for a fragile and sheltered girl with little life experience, Ziwei is incredibly clear-headed, a lot more than the guys and Xiaoyanzi combined.

He storms away and to Xiaoyanzi, who is throwing a tantrum. She’s angry and still in shock that the emperor could be that scary. After some explanation and feeble reprimanding, the emperor throws in the towel and says Xiaoyanzi can quit her manners classes. This must be his first attempt at any kind of parenting at all. Although, if the teacher is Nanny Rong, I’d say having no education is better.

By the way, I should point out that whenever Ziwei and Erkang talk, above is their favorite position: Ziwei standing in the front looking like someone is dying and Er’kang in the back ready to unleash some passionate declaration no one is ready for.

Er’kang says he is willing to leave everything and run away with her. Ziwei turns that down, saying that it would be irresponsible. Maybe men who abandon duty for romance turn her off. She is her mother’s daughter, after all.

When Ziwei is sure she has got the emperor hooked, she throws out one of the things her mother used to say: My mother spent all her life waiting for something that never happened, but she was grateful for it nonetheless; without it, her life would have been meaningless.

EMPEROR: *Why do orphan girls whose moms died tragically keep finding me?*

Xiaoyanzi takes this chance to bash unfaithful men. And the emperor is like, yeah yeah you’re still mad about your mom, I said I’m sorry already, what else do you want from me, kid?

The emperor adds that since Xiaoyanzi likes the Fu family so much, he can let her have Er’kang. Xiaoyanzi trips and falls at this, and I’m pretty sure Er’kang’s soul gets sucked out of his body for a second.

At night, they watch the emperor and Ziwei play chess, which, I guess, is the equivalence of Netflix at this time.

Xiaoyanzi still prioritizes shouting at Yongqi and Yongqi kisses her to shut her up. She pushes him aside and hops away. That is the most hilarious attempt to be romantic I’ve ever seen from a male lead. The whole thing is so funny I can’t even fault Yongqi for jumping in like that.

The next day, Er’kang is bitter about the fact that the emperor has been tending to Ziwei. You see, he thinks it should be him who sits next to Ziwei right now. Er’kang is like that one drama viewer who refuses to accept that this is a lot more than a romance.

#还珠格格 #huan zhu ge ge #hzgg #cdrama #princess pearl #princess returning pearl

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kalihaze604 · 5 months

Text

Wednesday, January 17th, 2024

rest and digest

My nervous system is finally healing! This is something major to celebrate because I’ve spent most of my life in an anxious state of fight/flight/freeze/fawn as a result of a lifetime of narcissistic abuse that started with my manipulative and controlling parents. Early childhood is the root of everyone’s problems, and most folks don’t even want to acknowledge that their childhood wasn’t as pretty as they romanticized it to be to avoid processing the painful parts that got bottled up and left to rot and deal with later. Even my own father said “well most peoples childhood isn’t perfect” but was completely unwilling to have any sort of self awareness or accountability for his actions and how his trauma was intergenerational and yes that he does in fact have trauma that was ever addressed and narcissistic personality disorder as a result. My parents will never accept the consequences for their actions yet my mom made sure to constantly yell at me and drill into my head that I always needed to think about “what happens next” yet it’s clear this is just “do as I Say -not as I Do”! It’s pointless to expect my parents to ever heal or apologize for how much harm they caused. Growing up with two narcs made me normalize abuse and view abuse as love, setting me up for a series of failed traumatic abusive relationships mostly with narcissists. Abuse was all I knew and I just wanted a happy ending to my trauma cycle but repeating it was not bringing anything more than more pain and abuse. Then my pain got so bad I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, and my pain worsened as my symptoms diversified. Western medicine was literally useless in terms of providing anything other than inadequately low doses of opiate pain meds but I later realized that my own doctor was another person with narcissistic personality disorder and that was significantly impacting my care. She never took my pain seriously and gave me breadcrumbs of care while getting paid huge amounts of money by the government and disability system from neglecting, abusing and often abandoning me to die when she didn’t have answers. Asking an abuser to help heal an Illness caused by abuse is insane, I realized. This doctor’s last name literally rhymes with Evil and the first time I saw her, I thought the nurse said “you’ll be seeing Dr Evil tonight!” Which I thought was hilarious at the time but it was likely just my intuition trying to scream and tell me to run away from this bitch before things got worse. I was always doing sex work to pay for medical cannabis because she was always underprescribing me so I had to pay extra to actually manage my pain and be able to function. I stopped speaking to my doctor in May when I was crying uncontrollably while I begged for another prescription increase and she refused. I stopped seeing her and started buying a small amount of low dose diverted pills to be able to adequately manage my pain this summer. There’s a whole community that is being neglected by their doctors and underprescribed meds, so they sell or trade their low dose meds for higher dose unregulated products or cash to be able to manage their pain and function. A whole community of folks that were failed by western medicine and are now “self medicating” or whatever label gets slapped on these folks who are already super criminalized.

In December, after a breakup with yet another Narc that had caused extreme fibromyalgia flare ups by either fucking me into a flare up or emotionally neglecting me to the point I react by shutting down and going into a freeze state. My body was fucking tired. My back was covered in burns from my heating pad and a wicked hyperpigmentation skin rash. Some dude once catcalled me with “ I LOVE your scars!” Like bro there’s nothing cool about these unique markings, you can get them too if you can commit to spending 12+ hours per day glued to a heating pad for a year and a half straight! Anyways I’m sure they’ll fade once I stop using my heating pad and commit to putting thc/cbd transdermal cream on my back regularly to heal and nourish the sensitive angry skin.

Since deleting social media I’ve been spending way less time rotting in bed glued to my heating pad. I have honestly surprised myself with how much I have accomplished in the last couple days. Since getting out of that relationship and going no contact with my abusive bio family, I feel like my nervous system has majorly calmed the fuck down for the most part. I’ve lost so much weight unintentionally over the past month and a lot has been in the “cortisol belly” area that’s known as a fat storage site when you have high cortisol levels caused by extreme stress and nervous system deregulation. I had boxes of extra small clothes sitting in storage since 2018, and now they all fit me again! Size totally depends on the cut and on the brand but I’m fitting into size 0/xxs clothes now and that’s what I consider a normal size for me? Five fucking years is what it took to get my body back after losing all human rights and control over my body thanks to extended leave, being forced to take mood stabilizers I didn’t need that caused extreme weight gain and the useless mental health system. I’ve been getting so much done lately but I’ve also been resting a lot and having such good sleep and naps now. In the fall I struggled to sleep because I was so stressed and miserable and couldn’t stop thinking, couldn’t relax and rest, there was too much on my mind. It feels so Damn good to be so relaxed. It feels so good to look in the mirror and see myself again and actually feel completely content and confident in my body.

#Self care #personal growth #fibromyalgia #emotional abuse #childhood trauma #abuse survivor #trauma #Nervous system #healing #Stress #Medical trauma

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keerysquinn · 1 year

Text

Steve Harrington x Chrissy Cunningham || 1.5k

“So you promise you know how to make snickerdoodles?” Steve asked. “Actual snickerdoodles that taste just as good if not better than the ones from the grocery store bakery?”

“When I said that I knew the best snickerdoodle recipe, I meant that I knew the best snickerdoodle recipe,” Chrissy replied. “These will blow your store bought cookies away. Mrs. Henderson’s going to love them.”

Chrissy and Steve had been hanging out together more often now that they’d rekindled their childhood friendship, and she and Jason had broken up. They’d fallen back into their easy routine of teasing, shared secrets, and weekend hangouts, so when Steve had mentioned that Dustin’s mom had invited him to participate in her annual Christmas cookie swap, she offered to help him bake a batch when she realized he intended on getting store bought ones. Chrissy might not have been encouraged to eat many sweets as a child, but her grandmother had raised her to believe that there was nothing better than a homemade batch of cookies no matter what kind you were making.

Since his parents were out of town for the foreseeable future, Chrissy had invited herself over to help bake the cookies. His parents’ kitchen was much nicer than her own, and they’d be able to work uninterrupted unlike at her house.

“They’ll mean more to her if you can honestly tell her that you helped make them,” she’d told him. “Baking is a labor of love, so this is truly a gift from the heart.”

When she came over that afternoon, she’d pulled her grandmother’s old recipe box out of her bag and flipped through the dozens of handwritten recipe cards until she found the right one. As she did this, she thought about how she should spend a day just organizing the box. She was sure that they were actually organized at one point in time, since the box contained divider tabs for side dishes, desserts, and several other categories, but her grandmother had never been the most organized woman, so she just stuck the recipes back into the box wherever she felt like after she was done with them.

She handed the card to Steve and instructed him to read off the ingredients to her as she floated around the kitchen grabbing everything they’d need from the fridge and various cabinets. She knew his home well enough by now to know where everything was kept, and she’d been smart enough to call him and tell him what ingredients he’d need the day before. Once she’d gathered everything, she hoisted herself up to sit on the edge of the counter next to the stand mixer and turned to him.

“Start baking,” she told him.

“You mean you’re not going to do anything to help?” he asked.

“Consider me a mostly hands off teacher. You’ve gotta do it on your own. Besides, the mixing and measuring part isn’t that hard. I’ll help out if you get stuck, and I promise I’ll show you my technique for actually forming the cookies when you get to that step.”

And Chrissy stayed true to her word. She handed Steve measuring spoons when he needed them, and she kept him from making any unfixable mistakes, but she let him do all of the actual work. Once the dough was finished, she slid off the counter and stood next to him.

“Now, are you ready to learn how to make sure all of your cookies are uniform in size, so they’ll look all fancy and store bought?”

Steve nodded. “I’m ready to learn all of the master’s secrets.”

Chrissy stifled a laugh. “I’m no master,” she told him. “I’ve just had a lot more practice than you.”

“Considering the fact that this is the first time I’ve ever made a batch of cookies myself, you could definitely say that.”

Chrissy opened her bag again and pulled out a large melon baller.

“This is my greatest tool when it comes to baking. I don’t think it’s ever actually been used as a melon baller. It exists only to make uniformly sized cookie balls.”

She plunged the utensil into the batter and pulled out a small scoop which she then dropped into her palm and rolled into a neat little ball. She set that ball on the cookie tray and repeated the process a few more times before handing the tool to Steve.

“Your turn.”

While Steve started making the rest of the dough balls, Chrissy went about mixing together the cinnamon sugar mixture for the cookie coating. And when the cookie dough bowl was empty, she showed him how to make sure that the whole cookie had a perfect coating before placing it back on the cookie sheet. Once again, she demonstrated only a couple of times before stepping aside to let him do the rest. Soon, all of the cookies were done, and they had all of the baking sheets in the oven.

Chrissy hoisted herself back up onto the counter, and Steve moved to sit with her.

“Where did you learn to do all this stuff?” he asked her. “I can barely make boxed mac’n’cheese without setting the kitchen on fire, and you could practically run a bakery from your kitchen.”

“I don’t know,” she said with a shrug. “My nana always said it was in my DNA. She was always in the kitchen when I was growing up, and she taught me everything that she knew. That recipe box is my legacy as a Cunningham woman as ridiculous as that sounds. Most of the recipes were my great grandmother’s, and my nana hand wrote them all as she learned them. She claimed to have the entire box memorized and said I’d do the same one day . . . I’m rambling.”

“You’re not. And it’s fine. I like hearing you talk.”

“You do?”

Instead of answering her, Steve looked Chrissy in the eye and moved to run his thumb across her cheek. When he pulled his hand away, there was a small glob of cookie dough on his finger. She could feel her cheeks burning in embarrassment at the fact that she hadn’t known that was there. He stuck his thumb in his mouth and ate the dough which only made her embarrassment intensify.

“Delicious,” he said with a knowing smirk.

Before she could respond, the oven timer went off. She hopped off the counter and grabbed her oven mitts to remove the cookie sheets from the oven. As soon as she had set them on the counter, Steve tried to grab one, but she swatted his hand away with a spatula.

“You have to let them cool first,” she said as she started transferring the cookies onto her cooling racks. “You’ll get to try them when we’re packing them up for the party.”

“You really can’t let me have one now?”

“If I remember correctly, when your nanny would babysit us, she could barely take the cookies out of the oven before you’d eaten half of them.”

“And who do you think was eating the other half?” he asked with another knowing smirk.

“That’s irrelevant. I learned self-control.”

Steve feigned offense and hopped off the counter.

“I’ll have you know that I have loads of self-control,” he said as he moved to stand next to her.

“Oh yeah, since when?” She turned to face him and realized just how close he was to her for the first time. There were barely two inches between them, and she had to look up a bit more than usual to meet his eye. He was only about eight inches taller than she was, but it seemed like so much more when they were this close together.

“Since always.” He had one hand on each side of her resting on the counter behind her and effectively trapping her against it. Things had been getting more flirtatious between them lately, but this was bringing their playful banter to an entirely new level that it had never reached before. It would have been so easy for her to just reach up and kiss him if she wanted to, and she definitely wanted to. Not a kiss on the cheek like she’d done many times throughout their childhood, but a real kiss. One that would make her toes curl and her heart beat faster.

But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t be the one to take it to the next level. Not when they were just starting to be friends again. She didn’t dare do anything to jeopardize that.

“Could’ve fooled me,” she told him.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said as held up the cookie he’d just stolen from behind her back. “Some things are just too tempting.”

He took a bite out of the cookie and smirked at her as he chewed.

“You’re evil,” she said as she turned away from him and back towards her cookie trays.

“Only when I want to be.”

#cheerscoops #cheerscoops fic #steve harrington fic #chrissy cunningham fic #ctcwc22 #pretend I'm not posting this almost a month late #probably the last thing I'll be posting from my failed christmas challenge #my writing

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eruanna1875 · 7 months

Text

Happy Reapers (Guidesman, C2)

Chapter Four: We Labourers Few

C2 on Tumblr: First - Previous - Next

(C1, The Lost Boys)

(This is a bit of a long one, but it's split up into scenes, and it's also sort of cozy.)

~~*~~

“So what’s the plan?” asked Greg as soon as they stepped outside of the barn. “Because I started thinking about Linus meeting the Great Pumpkin and Charlie Brown getting my Rock Facts Rock and Beatrice being Lucy cause she’s blue and crabby, so I didn’t hear anything you guys said.”

“Well, apparently,” Wirt snapped, though he wasn’t looking at Greg, “we’re staying here in Pottsfield for the rest of the day, even though we’re in kind of a hurry to get home!”

“There’s no need to be cross, boy,” the Woodsman said, and Greg turned to look at him. “The Pottsfielders have been hospitable and—”

“But we don’t even know if that… th-that Enoch thing will tell us anything!”

Greg perked up at the name and looked at… hmm, Schroeder. The piano one. “That’s the Great Pumpkin, Schroeder!”

“Greg—”

“I will not have you speaking of Enoch so disrespectfully,” interrupted the Woodsman, looking very sternly and loomingly at Wirt. Dad used the same exact look, but only on special occasions. Like if somebody was crabby about going to church or sassed Mom or something. “He will do as he said he would, and he will not break his word.”

“Yeah! Like Linus says!” Greg gasped—that gave him the perfect idea! “C’mon, Wirt, we gotta find the most sincere pumpkin patch so he can come there!” And he tugged on Wirt’s blue cape.

Wirt frowned and turned away. (Greg knew what that meant: he didn’t want to come this time either.) “But…”

“Boy, you must allow me a little of your trust.” And the Woodsman stepped over to Wirt, not quite so stern now. Maybe still a little looming. “By the time this day is out, you will be on your way home. And, until then, this is truly the safest place in the Unknown that you could be.”

Wirt looked up, with that funny look that meant he didn’t want to say what he wanted to say. Which might be ‘yes’ or ‘no’ sometimes. In the end, he just sighed. “Yeah, well, I guess there’s not much else we can do until we get directions.”

“Yeah!”

He shrugged too. “A-and besides, if you’re right about this Enoch... guy... we’ll be on our way home soon anyway, and we won’t have to worry about any of this ever again.”

They both stopped talking. Greg thought that was a funny kind of a place for a stop-talking. He didn’t quite get what Wirt meant with that last part, either, about any of this and ever again. But not getting what he meant wasn’t unusual. Wirt was Like That.

“Yes,” the Woodsman nodded at last. “Yes, that’s quite right. So you need only be patient ‘til the night.”

“Just like Linus!” declared Greg, accidentally swinging Schroeder around as he side-fist-pumped. If that was what the arm thingy was called. He’d asked Wirt once, but he didn’t know the name either.

“Okay, so… uh…” Wirt looked back up at the Woodsman. “So what are we supposed to actually do at this… harvest thing?”

The Woodsman didn’t smile. But he made his eyes all narrow like he might’ve. “Come with me, boys. I’ve guided you through the woods, and I can guide you through the fields.”

~*~

The fields were familiar to the Woodsman, as he led the boys down country lanes that he’d walked nearly every harvest, for years past his reckoning. He found the way almost without thinking.

They met very few on these dirt-aged roads. Those they did were mostly stragglers late to the festivities. All greeted them. Most then bustled on. But only one stopped.

“Oh, Goodman! Hello!” cried the woman, waving her kerchief. The Woodsman tipped his hat as she approached. “It’s so nice to see you! Have you been to the barn yet?”

“Yes, Mrs. Harmon, I and these boys are off to the harvest now. How are your daughters?”

“Oh, I’m just going to join them now! Leah and Tara went early—you know how they are—and, well, these old bones can’t keep up with them as well as they used to!”

She laughed. Loud and long and hard, as if it were the funniest thing in the world. Greg laughed too. Wirt only stared at them both with confused discomfort.

As Greg introduced himself and his brother, however, the Woodsman's attention was drawn away. A little breeze was stirring, rustling the autumn grass, sending a few stray leaves tumbling to the sky. He thought he felt the faintest portent of winter in its chill.

This leaf-stirring wind stirred him too, set urge in him. Urge to hasten on to their work. Urge to finish the next task. Urge, it could almost be said, to beat winter to the fields.

“Well, we must be going,” he nodded abruptly to the masked mother. “Greet your daughters for me.”

“Of course—they’ll be sorry they missed you!” Mrs. Harmon made to pass them, and he made to leave. But the woman stopped suddenly as she came to his side. She turned her carven face up to him with a little gasp of remembrance. “Oh, and thank you again, Goodman.”

“What for?” interrupted Wirt, unintentionally rude.

But Mrs. Harmon was gracious enough. There was a smile in her voice as she turned to answer him. “Why, for pointing us to Pottsfield! My girls and I’d have been wandering those woods for ages if it hadn’t been for him. And it was such a cold winter that year!”

The winter again. Like a frost, it came now to tinge his thoughts with regret. “Very cold indeed,” he murmured, eyes downcast. And they were ill, too. If only I had done more, perhaps they would not have…

“But the winter doesn’t trouble us in Pottsfield,” she continued without burden nor care. “The girls are so happy here—and I’m happy myself! So of course I must thank him.” She nodded, turning her hollowed gaze back again. “And truly, I do.”

She bade farewell to the boys, and Greg tipped his teapot to her. Before she went her way, however, Mrs. Harmon took his hand gratefully. The fingers were cold beneath the straw, and the words muffled beneath the mask. Yet, for all that, the touch somehow held warmth. For all that, her voice was soft and earnest.

“Be happy while you’re here, friend.”

The Woodsman did not speak for some time as he led the boys on. Wirt must've asked him a thousand questions in his looks. But not even a silent reply did he receive. Even Greg's voice, proclaiming enough for two, seemed hushed in these hills.

At last, they came to a field just behind town, at the back of a little white farmhouse. That was where they’d begin. Straw was always first. And, as every year, the tools they needed were already there waiting for them.

“Look at Schroeder! Haha!” Greg giggled as he balanced his frog on his rake (somehow having managed to find one just his size). The frog seemed content with his lot.

Wirt, on the other hand, seemed much less pleased. “Are—are there any gloves?” he asked, eying the field as if he expected it to bite him.

“Are they needed?” The absence of answer was answer enough. He jerked his head over toward the farmhouse. “On the stairs. Timothy Grub always leaves them out for the labourers, though they’re not often used.”

“Why?”

The Woodsman faltered.

Why?

Why should these people, with their hollowed faces and straw-bound hands, neglect to protect themselves as they worked? Why should they not shudder at the thought of black, life-taking winter? Why should they rejoice in their state? What were they hollowed of? Fear, care, discomfort, sorrow, pain?

Yes.

They were happy here indeed, and no season could trouble them.

So, taking up his rake, the Woodsman drove winter from his thoughts. “Their hands have no need to fret for the straw.”

The boy stood a moment with a doubtful squint. Then, he shrugged and headed for the porch.

~*~

Wirt could still smell the straw and stover as they rattled away from the fields. It wasn’t a smell he knew very well. But it was nice enough. It reminded him of something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. A lot of things around here did that. Maybe it was something from when he was little. Or… or somewhere else.

Timothy Grub had come out of the farmhouse near the end of their work, also harvest-garbed. He and his sons (similarly dressed, but smaller in size) helped them heap up the straw. Then, tipping his hat brim, “Say, you folks oughtta ride to the pumpkin patch with us!”

“Is it a sincere pumpkin patch?” asked Greg, grinning eagerly.

Wirt grimaced: he didn’t really enjoy the thought of socializing, especially here. “Oh… we—we don’t wanna be too much trouble—”

“Oho, no trouble there! The Goodman’s a friend. Besides, the wagon’s already hitched up.”

The Woodsman thanked him for them.

So, as Wirt stared at the sky, letting his thoughts drift, here they were: rolling over dirt roads like the gentle stream of time through golden hills of memory.

In a wagon pulled by huge turkeys.

Driven by a pumpkin man.

What a weird day.

“We lab’rers few, we happy few, we many lab’rers few,” sang Timothy Grub, though his voice came out a little muffled. “We’ve fields to reap and hearts to keep and happy work to do!”

“Happy work, happy work,” Greg mumbled, kicking his legs as he fiddled with something. The Woodsman, sitting next to him, just stared, a little uncertainly. Like he was trying to figure out what to do with the kid.

Pfft. He’d need some pretty good luck for that.

Greg seemed to succeed in whatever he was trying to do. “Aha!” He held up a little paper wrapper, emptied of its sweets. “Hey, do you want a piece of candy, Farmer Grub?”

“Oh, no thanks,” the pumpkin man said over his shoulder. “I’ve got no stomach for it.”

And he laughed. Really, really hard. For no reason at all. Same as the lady earlier.

Geez, that was weird.

Of course, the weirdness was promptly joined by Greg, once again. Which was a little distracting, at least.

“Uh, Greg,” asked Wirt, eying him, “do you even know why you’re laughing?”

“Cause he was laughing!” And he popped the candy in his mouth and chewed happily, humming as he did so. The Woodsman’s brows went up in surprise.

At the sight of them both, Wirt cracked a smile in spite of the weird day, the weird pumpkin people, his own weird self. He couldn't help it.

Greg was just Like That.

~*~

“Yup, I think this is a very sincere pumpkin patch,” Greg nodded, surveying the field. “Don’t you think so, Flying Ace?”

The Flying Ace croaked.

At the insightful comment, he frowned and put a hand on his hip. “Yeah, you’re right. The sky makes it kinda glum, since it’s grey now and not blue anymore.”

He looked around. Farmer Grub was handing Wirt and the Woodsman some snipper thingies to cut the pumpkins. Was he supposed to snip them too? Or maybe he was just supposed to pick out the best ones. Or he could make the faces! That’d be fun.

Wirt leaned back, resting with one hand against the big ol’ turkey. “So, how many of these things are we supposed to get, huh? A dozen or something?”

“Ol' Berwin said to take whatever we need,” waved Farmer Grub. It looked funny with his straw hands. “So we probably oughtta fill up the cart. The harvest goes on for days, and it’s shaping up to be a plentiful year.”

Wirt frowned a thinky frown. “Okay… but, if it’s such a big harvest, how come you don’t have more people working? I-I mean, we’re the only ones out here, so—”

“No, we’re not,” grunted the Woodsman, already lifting a pumpkin. He was winning the pumpkin race!

“Wait, really?”

“Well, sure!” Farmer Grub shrugged. “These pumpkins aren’t gonna move themselves… are they?”

Wirt started to make a funny look, but the Woodsman talked first. “You see, lad, in any given part of these fields, the labourers are few. But they’re never the only ones.” He set Pumpkin Number One in the cart.

“Just like the song!” And Greg started singing the “happy work” part to himself again. Well, and to the Flying Ace.

Wirt looked from the Woodsman to Farmer Grub. He looked like he was gonna say something else. But right when he opened his mouth, the turkey he was leaning on snatched his pointy hat right off his head. And red. Pointy and red.

“HEY!”

He tried to jump and grab it back, but he tripped. He was better at tripping than jumping. The turkey stuck it on the other one’s head, and they both startled gobbling and cackling. Maybe they thought it was a funny joke. Wirt hopped and hopped, but he couldn’t reach. “Give it back, you stupid—!”

“Ho now! Ho!” barked the Woodsman, coming around from the back of the cart. He caught the turkey’s halter and held up his other hand. The turkey tugged against his hold at first. But, as soon as it started to settle down a little, he grabbed the hat. He was taller than Wirt, so he didn’t have to jump.

Greg thumbs-upped. “Haha, good catch!”

“Dogood! Boaz! Bad turkeys!” Farmer Grub scolded the turkeys (which was also funny, because he couldn’t frown with the happy pumpkin over his face). “Sorry, folks, they’re a little pesky today.”

“That’s all right, Mr. Grub,” said the Woodsman, dusting off the pointy and red hat. “No harm done.” And he handed it back to Wirt.

Wirt huffed as he settled it back on his head. “Thanks,” he said, eying Boaz and Dogood with a frown.

The Flying Ace rupped. No, Methuselah. He was in the Bible too, just like Boaz. “Yeah, you’re right, Methuselah. It doesn’t have to be blue. Grey’s a sincere colour too.”

~*~

Something small plopped down in the dirt beside the Woodsman.

“Do you think it hurts?”

"Hm?" He glanced up from his task. Greg was on his hands and knees, inspecting the pumpkins and their vines from inches away.

"When you snip their green things, I mean. I don't wanna snip them if they don't like it."

He blinked. Then, once he understood the question, he considered it (with the assumption that the plants could feel at all). "Perhaps. But I don't believe they would despise it." His hand ran along a round-ridged hull. "They were created to be harvested, after all. It is their purpose."

"Oh, right!" The lad's contemplative frown righted itself. "That makes sense. If I was a pumpkin, I'd sure want to have a cool face and a candle in my mouth!" And with that, he made a... face. Stretching his mouth into a toothy grin. Crossing his eyes. Shaping his cheeks with his fingers.

The Woodsman could not find even a question to ask. He only stared, unsure of whether to be concerned.

"Did you know that that's how pumpkins dress up for Halloween, instead of wearing costumes? It's a Rock Fact!" And Greg held up a painted stone.

A moment. Then, one little word unrolled a map for his lost soul at last. All Hallow's Eve. That's what he's talking of. And a jack-o-lantern face to make of himself. He nodded slowly. Now I under—

"So can I?"

Just as quickly, the map refurled.

"Can you what?"

"Snip the pumpkins!" And he turned his bright face upward expectantly.

Though he understood this well enough, the Woodsman wavered. Even at the Mill, he hadn't let the boy handle the tools. "We... mustn't have you snipping your own fingers, little one..."

"Aw, that's what Wirt said!" protested Greg. "I won't! I know how to be careful!"

A little sigh escaped him at the age-old claim. If I recall, there are few children in all the world with that knowledge.

"Please?"

But he knew. As his gaze turned from the tool in his hand to the pleading face, he knew. He wouldn't deny a child a chance to help. He never could.

"Here, then. Let me show you the proper way."

"Yeah, haha!"

It took a little time to show him the safest way to hold the tool (and to work out how to balance it in his small hands). But Greg seemed a quick learner at such things. And, when the blades closed easily on the vine, and the pumpkin shifted in its new freedom, the lad actually cheered.

"See, Methuselah? I did it! Just like Mr. Woodsman showed me!"

The frog ribbited approval.

"Can I carry it to the cart too? I think I'm strong enough."

The Woodsman studied its size, shifted it where it sat. Then he nodded. "I think perhaps you are."

After a moment or two (for Greg insisted that they both bring pumpkins), they headed back for Timothy Grub's cart. Young Wirt was still nearby, picking his own fruits of the vine. The turkeys had settled down by now, and Grub was counting out their harvest.

"Mr. Woodsman, I think you're a born gardener."

At the simple sentence, stark as lightning, the Woodsman's gaze jumped wide and darted down. Greg was already smiling back up.

"A what?" was all he could manage.

"It's what Old Lady Daniels called me. When I helped her clean up in her flowerbeds and her yard and stuff." Greg shrugged lightly. "I think it means you're the kind of person should have a garden, cause you know how to do gardening a lot, and you're good at this kind of stuff. And you're really good at this kind of stuff, so you're a born gardener too!"

The Woodsman blinked. Heat flooded his face. "Er... th-thank you... little one."

"Welcome."

He stared another moment, unnoticed, until he could stare no longer through his muddled thoughts. Then his eyes dropped.

A born gardener? What named me that in your eyes? He shook his heavy head. Lad, I fear you are too kind for the truth.

His gaze swept across the fields and their fruit.

A born gardener, I? Who fells what he has not planted, and roams too far and too long to see things grow?

Answer came. But not from the present.

Long-bygone days were his answer, the green before his eternal black and brown. Days when he tended to other things than twisted trees. Days when another little voice too kind begged to help. Days when the yield of the earth was not a burden.

A born gardener?

Perhaps I was, once.

"Wait, do you have a garden already?"

His words came forth slowly, though not from confusion. "A garden?"

Yet, as he turned to the child before him, he found there the wrong face. A moment. Then his remembrance shattered.

Those days were gone, and long gone.

I am a woodsman now. That is my place, and my burden. I cannot grow. And I will think back no longer on memories today.

His eyes hardened a little.

They drown too easily.

"Well, do you?"

"I have no garden," the Woodsman replied with a stony sigh, setting his orange load in the cart. "The edelwood is my crop, and the oil is my harvest."

Two "ohs" were said. One came, in realization, from the nearby Wirt. The other, more disappointedly, from Greg.

The child looked down again. Set down his pumpkin. Pondered. Then looked back up.

"You can't eat those, can you?"

"No. It is only food for the lantern."

"That lantern must be pretty hungry, then, 'cause you feed it a lot."

He reached out toward the Woodsman's side to pat its metal shell. The Woodsman turned sharply, keeping it out of reach.

But there was no anger to be mustered. When he looked down, he saw only a tiny child. A child with dirt under his nails and frog slime between his fingers and a world of childish reasonings boiling inside that teakettle on his head. A child that would soon be gone, gone away home.

Not his child. But a child nonetheless.

"Come, little gardener," he sighed, with what he hoped was a friendly look. "We've work to do."

"Happy work to do!" sang Greg—that old song, it seemed, had nested in his head like a bird in a tree. Warbling, he skipped away into the fields.

No less lost, the Woodsman followed.

~*~

Beatrice had already kind of given up on finding anybody when she turned to circle again over the town. But she still turned. One last time, she told herself. Just to make sure. Not that that's any assurance they'll actually be ALIVE if I find them, but I may as well know.

So she wheeled once more, keeping her eyes peeled. Her beady little bluebird eyes. Why couldn't she have gotten turned into a falcon or something? Then she could see better. At least there were clouds now. Earlier, with the sun out, it had been way too—

She stumbled on air. She took a second look to make sure she wasn't going crazy. But the flash of red and blue amidst golden stalks was there. Small green and tall grey solidified it: they were in that field, all right. And they seemed to be moving.

"I don't believe it," she muttered to the wind (half-relieved, half-annoyed). Then, like a tiny bird of prey, Beatrice dove. The cornfield, and its trio of new scarecrows, were her aim.

She fluttered as she came to perch on a stalk. "Well, you didn't get eaten."

"AHH!" The kid (she was sure it was "Wirt" now) jumped and almost dropped his basket. His wide eyes swiveled. They found her. Then they rolled. "Ugh, Beatrice." He shifted his weight and walked past her. "I thought you ditched us."

If she could've reddened under her feathers, she would've. Even she wasn't sure if it was irritation or embarrassment, though. Neither really mattered to her scowl.

"Maybe next time, I'll ask you to pick between honour and a fate probably worse than death. We'll see how you respond."

"Pfft, come on, it wasn't that terrifying," he lied. Oh, she could tell that was lying. He was a terrible liar. Her baby brother could've told a lie better than him.

And Wirt seemed to be aware of the fact, too. His lie left an awkward silence in his mouth, and he looked away. When Beatrice tried to stare him down, he frowned, still without eye contact.

"L-look, why don't you go bother Greg?" And he tried to use the setting-down of his basket as a distraction. "He seems to be the main magnet around here for little... woodland creatures, or... whatever."

That remark tightened her grip on the stalk furiously. Oh, really? How'd YOU like to be a little woodland creature? Maybe I'll give YOU a bluebird curse. See how your dumb face looks with a beak.

In actuality, she placed no such curse (even if it would've worked, which she still wasn't sure of). Instead, she forced her wings into a shrug. "Believe me, I would. But he found himself a different woodland creature."

"Huh?" Wirt stood up and glanced around for his brother. It took him about four seconds longer than Beatrice thought believable to spot him. The kid was prancing around under the stalks like an elephant in the corn. The old woodsman was close behind, watching him with a hesitant eye.

"C'mon, it's even happier work if you sing!"

"L-little one, I... well, I fear my voice is not the sort to make anyone happy."

"Psh. Everybody's voice makes somebody happy. Here, Crosby and me can show you how!" And he started singing some random chorus about happy work and hams to keep, plucking corn as he went. That frog of his hopped alongside. His other friend, however, only looked more lost.

Beatrice shook her little head, the slightest bit smug. Looks like your "Guidesman" doesn't know EVERYTHING, does he?

"Well," shrugged Wirt beside her, turning back to the stalks, "at least Greg's bugging him instead of me now." He plucked an ear.

"Yeah, yeah." Beatrice looked at him. Eying the corn with his tongue just poking out the side. Dork. Then she took another glance at the pair. Still noisy as a river and silent as a stone. Neither paying attention.

So she took the opportunity. Hopping onto a closer stalk, she began to speak a little lower.

"Speaking of which, you're not really sticking with that guy, right?"

The ear half-raised to Wirt's mouth froze. "What?"

"I mean, it's not like you know anything about him. How do you know what kind of things he's done, out there, alone in the woods, for years on end?"

"I-I don't need to know his life story, Beatrice," he interrupted, tossing the unmunched corn into the basket and reaching for another. "I just need to get home. And, hey," he shrugged again (which was really getting annoying), "he got us here."

Rolling her eyes, she fluttered after him and perched again. "And then what? Did you offer community service in return for not being murdered or something?

"No," Wirt scoffed. "We're just helping them out while we wait on the next step. At the end of the day, these guys are gonna give us directions. Then we'll be out of here."

Ugh, quit having plans already! "Supposedly."

This time, he turned towards her fully, complete with hand on his hip. Trying to look sternly disinterested or something. "Beatrice, is there a point to all this, or are you just being a raincloud?"

Beatrice thought up a quick deflection. "I'm just saying, I don't like it. I mean, you find all this as creepy as I do, right?"

His face twisted like an explanation was about to come out of it. "I-I mean, so maybe it's a weird... whatever it is, where they wear vegetable costumes and—"

"And worship a giant pumpkin head?"

"Follow a giant pumpkin head," he corrected (nerd), "they don't actually act like they worship it. Him. Whatever." Wirt hurriedly waved it off and took a few steps forward. A few steps closer to the others. They still didn't notice. "But they like the Woodsman. And..." He wavered. "...they seem nice."

Seriously? You're not even gonna agree on THAT? "Okay, you're in denial. That's fine. But I'm telling you," she added, glancing around, "something feels off about this place."

At that, they both seemed to poise on silence, suddenly aware of faces. Pumpkin faces, staring at them through the stalks. As if the very speaking of their strangeness had summoned them. Even Wirt couldn't ignore them.

Evidently, Wirt was more capable of ignorance than she thought. He huffed stubbornly and stomped on past her. Boy, he might as well have outright said 'I'm not about to listen to a bluebird'.

"You know what? This whole thing has felt off ever since we came into the woods. But the Woodsman told us this place is safe—which, so far, it has been! Safer than that wereling thing we ran into before."

"The what?"

"So I'm gonna wait until the end of the day." He reached for another ear. "When Enoch comes, he'll tell us what we need to know."

"Oh, and you trust this Enoch guy?"

"Who said anything about that? The Woodsman said—"

Beatrice was quick. Her voice shrank, and she bunched up her feathers innocently around her.

"Do you trust him?"

She held her breath. It was a risk. Clearly, some big thing happened with a 'wereling', whatever that was, and she could easily believe that the woodsman either ran it off or killed it. And clearly, he'd led them all the way here. Any normal kid would have every reason to trust the guy. And, too, with the woodsman so closeby, she was risking putting him on the scent (which was the real reason she'd stayed away from Greg).

But her risk paid off more than she expected. All Wirt's retorts and excuses dropped from him. His open mouth soon shut out the silence, working without words. He stared at her until his eyes flicked away and fell.

Jeepers, you'd think it was a dirty word I was getting him to say.

But maybe that was just what she wanted.

"Look, Wirt, is it?" she asked, still in a hushed voice. One stalk closer. Time to be careful. "You can think what you want, you can trust people or not. I really don't care."

Very c areful.

"But if it doesn't turn out the way you want, just remember that I owe you a favour. I can take you to somebody who will know how to get you home, if you want."

His eyes got just a little wider, and he looked up.

Gotcha.

"And, let's be honest," she added nonchalantly, wings shrugging, "I'm probably the only one around here who's physically incapable of keeping you from leaving."

Wirt wavered. But it was a wavering on whether or not to say what you really think. She was almost sure of that. "I—"

Something whipped past Beatrice, making her squawk. Though it didn't hit her, it smacked Wirt right in the forehead. It flopped upright again, quavering like the cornstalk it was. He, however, tripped over his own basket and toppled, limbs flailing ridiculously before he hit the ground.

Oh, the ground didn't hold him long. The others rushed on by her, probably not even noticing her. Greg was apologizing. His hands and that woodsman's were already reaching down to help the guy.

But Wirt wasn't looking at them. He was only watching her. So she risked a little more to give him a conspiratorial smirk. Then, she took off, leaving the cornfield and her quarry behind.

For now.

~~*~~

[And that's as far as I've got. I'm probably done for a while, what with Christmas coming up and all. But I hope you enjoyed!]

#over the garden wall #guidesman au #chapter 2: happy reapers #salt and light #otgw woodsman #otgw greg #otgw wirt #frog jason funderberker #pottsfield #otgw beatrice #writing #my fanfiction #my writing #i love this chapter #honestly just any chapter where i get to spend time in Pottsfield

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