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winterscaptain · 4 years

Text

focused.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: thanks to kira for helping me through the last dregs of this!! you’re amazing!! As promised, here’s lo-fi/mayhem in our ajf world. as (usually) usual, no context required to enjoy, but it’s pretty fun over here!

words: 6.4k warnings: language, canon-typical injury/violence, everyone’s mad and everyone’s worried!

summary: “knowing when to fight is just as important as knowing how.” terry goodkind, faith of the fallen. au!may 2008

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next? updated: february 1st, 2021

“Don’t get comfortable. There will be time to debrief on the plane.” Hotch’s eyes are trained on the monitor, where grainy security footage plays and replays an exceedingly casual murder in an underground subway station.

Reid, entering behind you, squints at the monitor. “Where are we headed?”

“New York.”

Rossi advances on the monitor. “Five shootings in two weeks. It’s about time we got the call.”

You watch as Hotch replays the tape again. “Why the delay?”

Aaron doesn’t answer you, but rather addresses Derek. “I want to take Garcia with us. Hopefully they’ll give us access to their surveillance systems.”

He’s distracted, almost absent-minded. It’s odd.

“What do we know?” You try again with another question, and Emily dips her chin - she had the same one.

Hotch pauses the video, turning toward the rest of you - loosely circled around the table. “All the killings are mid-day. Single gunshot to the head with a .22.”

“Any witnesses?” As always, JJ looks for somewhere to go as soon as wheels are down.

She really doesn’t get paid enough.

There’s something odd in her voice and temperament this morning, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. Now that you’re really awake and looking around, everyone's a little jumpy this morning. It doesn't help that the two most grounded people on the team are the most absent-minded of you all.

“No.”

Spencer pipes up. “.22-caliber pistol’s only 152 decibels. New York streets and subways are routinely well over a hundred.”

“So,” you ask, “could it be such that possible witnesses don’t even clock it before the unsub’s already on their way?”

Spencer nods.

Derek shifts beside you. “They sound like mob hits.”

Aaron dips his chin, but says, “Except none of them have ties to organized crime.”

The rest of the facts and questions fly past you - no connection between victims, no communication or contact, surveillance footage that shows next to nothing, an establishment that the unsub is bold and well-trained.

Seems completely random.

Spencer voices your next thought. “Son of Sam all over again.”

The grim look on Aaron’s face tells you all you need to know.

+++

Derek, Penelope, and Emily shoot the shit as they get on the plane, but you notice JJ staring forlornly out the window. You resolve to discover what that’s about as soon as possible. Having her down was odd…

But she has been acting strange lately, not just today.

You sit beside Hotch, across from Reid as Rossi flips through photos of the victims.

Spencer makes astute observations about the continued pattern of, well, no pattern at all, while Hotch provides some remarks here and there.

One of them catches your attention. “It’s a joint FBI-NYPD taskforce?”

Yeah, because those always go over so well.

“Kate Joyner heads up the New York field office. She’s running point on the case and called me directly.” He calls out to JJ, who then informs the pilot you’re all ready to get wheels up. “Kate’s starting to butt heads with the local detectives and wanted a fresh set of eyes.”

There’s something in his voice you can’t place. History, maybe?

“Joyner, I know her,” Derek says. “She’s a Brit, right?”

Hotch shrugs. “Well, dual citizenship. Her father’s British, her mother’s American. She was a big deal at Scotland Yard before coming to the Bureau.”

You look over at him.

That’s a ridiculous amount of knowledge for someone who doesn’t work in the same state, Aaron.

“I heard she can be a little bit of a pain in the ass.” It’s a test. The defiant tip of Derek’s chin tells you as much.

Hotch takes the bait. “I didn’t think so.”

You can’t help it. “You know her?”

“We liaised when she was still at Scotland Yard.”

You look at Emily, who shrugs.

“And she’s good?” You wouldn’t call Dave’s tone skeptical, but if you didn’t know any better, you’d say it was another test. He’s a lot subtler than Morgan.

Hotch looks back at Dave. “I think we’re lucky to have her.”

+++

You all step out of the elevator, and you stay closest to JJ. Her absent-mindedness had yet to leave her, and as the person closest to her age, you were doing your best to support her with your presence alone.

JJ leans toward you as you approach the center of the office. “Is it just me or does she look -”

“- exactly like Haley?” You finish JJ’s thought. “Yeah.”

There’s a little smile you can see on Aaron’s face, just touching his profile. Agent Joyner has one too, and it makes you feel...something.

Whatever it is, it isn’t comfortable.

“Kate.”

“Aaron. How’ve you been?”

You take another glance at JJ. She seems to have the same thought as you.

First name basis? How close are they?

“Well, thank you. This is my team.” He introduces you all one by one, and you attempt to plaster a polite smile on your face, just like everyone else. Derek’s the only one who doesn’t make an effort, and you tap the side of his shoe with your foot.

Penelope gets settled right away, and the NYPD detectives approach shortly after that. Of course, they start with a snide remark at Spencer. Your hackles rise, and you take a little huff of a breath.

Calm down.

Kate introduces Detectives Brustin and Cooper. Dave gets right to the point, doing his best to establish baseline rapport.

It doesn’t work.

You don’t notice that you’ve crept closer to Aaron throughout the proceedings, now standing just off his shoulder, next to Emily, until Kate leans into him. “Can I have a word with you in private?”

The crumpling of your brow is quick, and you hope nobody noticed. Emily’s head, whirling around to look at Derek, is far less subtle.

“Sure.”

Emily tracks back to JJ, who looks confused. In a hushed and suggestive tone, she tells her, “They...liaised when she was at Scotland Yard.”

You hide your laugh in your shoulder, covering your movement with an attempt to adjust your backpack.

Derek steps up behind you. “Let me get that for you, kiddo.”

You look up at him, hard-pressed to keep your mirth to yourself. A little smile plays at the edge of his lips as well. He turns you around when he’s done pretending to be helpful, holding you in the little huddle that develops between the rest of you and the NYPD detectives.

Derek’s eyes keep flickering to Kate’s office, where she and Hotch chat informally and perhaps even fondly, to an extent. Heat rises in your cheeks.

Get over yourself.

+++

You attempt to ignore the sheer amount of time Aaron spends looking over Kate’s shoulder behind her desk. Tearing your eyes from her office window, you return to your task.

The whiteboard marker in your hand is seeing lots of use as you follow Spencer’s instructions, tracing lines between key points, making notes, etc. Cooper’s banter with Emily puts a little smile on your face.

“Anti-geographical profiling? Now you wonder why we’re so skeptical?” Cooper’s voice is full of play, but there’s a very real concern behind it.

Emily laughs, but then explains, “This unsub’s organized. He strikes at the same time of day, he knows where the cameras are placed. That means he’s doing his own surveillance.”

You offer your two cents in support of Spencer, who outlines the difference between need-motivated killers and organized killers. Cooper looks a little impressed by the time you add, “So, essentially, we need to look everywhere this unsub isn’t to find where he lives. He has a comfort zone, and we just have to find it.”

“What are we finding?” Hotch and Kate roll out of her office, and he settles beside you, peering at the map.

You look over your shoulder at him. “He’s organized, so we’ve redirected to an anti-geographical profile.”

“Keep looking.” He turns on his heel and walks out the door, Kate trailing behind him with a confidence that tightens your jaw.

Maybe Derek was right. Maybe she is a pain in the ass.

+++

You keep your eyes up as Rossi and Hotch inspect the body on the busy New York street. Your mind wanders to a lecture at the academy, the voice of the late Jennifer Shepard echoing through your head.

“Always watch the watchers.”

But then again, she’d always backed it up with another story about “the man with all the rules” to undermine the rules in question. The stories did more than make you laugh - they helped you remember.

“See anything?” Hotch looks up, not at you, but you know you have his attention.

You shake your head, your eyes still on the crowd. “Nothing obvious.”

He hums, and tunes back in as Derek says, “From the placement of that camera, odds are the only view they’re gonna get is the back of his head.”

“Let’s not be too quick to decide what we do or don’t have.” Kate meets Derek’s eyes and stares him down. You bristle, but Hotch turns just the smallest bit toward you, reminding you to behave.

The detective makes another snide remark as Kate brushes past the rest of you.

Derek turns toward Hotch, and you step back, giving them the illusion of privacy. “You mind telling me why I’m catching attitude from her?”

Because you’re better at your job? Because you don’t have a chip on your shoulder the size of the Atlantic? Because you probably haven’t maybe slept with our unit chief, maybe?

“FBI brass has made it clear to her that if she doesn’t bring this case home, she’s gonna be reassigned. And you are at the top of the list to replace her.”

“You’re kidding me.”

Aaron squints a little, but his words are deeply genuine. “Why should you be surprised? You’re good at your job. People notice that.”

He’s right.

“What happened to the Bureau patting itself on the back from stealing her away from Scotland Yard?”

Hotch shakes his head and sighs. “I don’t know. Politics here are different. And you can see she doesn’t pull punches.” He walks away, and Derek looks over his shoulder at you.

With a little smile, you say, “He’s right, you know.”

“You’re a terrible ass-kisser, kid.”

Nevertheless, he taps your shoulder with his knuckle and you both make your way to Rossi, examining a tarot card.

+++

“We’ve got more than one unsub.” Hotch’s tone is more than defeated, and you peer further over his shoulder, your fingers pressing lightly into the back of his arm for balance.

Rossi circles the desk. “So, we have more than one unsub. What does that tell us?”

“Most teams stick together,” Spencer says. “Ng and Lake. The Krays. Bittaker and Norris. They don’t usually kill separately.”

Derek is next, offering, “Could be some kind of gang initiation.”

Emily and JJ volley about gang operations and local task forces for a moment before Kate asks. “Do you think we have enough for a working profile?”

You startle a little. She’s closer than you thought, on the other side of Hotch. You lean around him, the soft wool of his suit sleeve still under your fingers. “Broad strokes, maybe. Nothing specific, yet.”

Hotch makes a few assignments, but you’re focused on Derek. As you suspected, he has an idea. “I think we should get out on the streets.”

Also unsurprising, Kate has an immediate rebuttal. “I brought you here to create a profile.”

“Which we can give in the morning, and they can share it with the afternoon shift.”

She huffs. “We’ve allocated every extra man we have.” You don’t miss the warning glance Hotch shoots Derek or the way Derek ignores it. “This is New York City. It’s not like adding a few more people is gonna blanket the city.”

“I understand it’s a long shot. But these guys, they hit at mid-day. We could target ingress and egress to particular neighborhoods. Position us near express stops - 14th, 42nd, 59th -”

“Morgan. It’s not your call.” Hotch’s rebuke is harsh, surprising.

You inhale sharply and tuck your lip between your teeth, retracting your hand.

This is gonna be a long case.

+++

Thankfully, you’re all headed back to the hotel in fairly short order. Hotch has all but ordered Kate to bed, and you try not to let your thoughts stray too far in response.

Spencer’s eyes wander up, and you follow them. “JJ -”

Will?

You’d only met him once but like him well enough. He was polite, pleasant, and even funny. Seeing as you hadn’t heard much about him in the last few months, you assumed JJ had broken it off.

Guess not.

She turns. “Will.”

“Hey,” he says, “took a shot and flew to D.C. but it didn’t work. I figured I’d train up to New York - only a few more hours.”

Hotch looks a little surprised, which probably means you do too. He extends his hand. “Detective.”

Will takes it. “I’m sorry for showing up like this. I know you’re working. But, um…” He drops his voice. “I can’t stand you being on this case and me not being here - not with what’s going on.”

You look at JJ, who looks a little uncomfortable, and then Hotch, who looks a little confused. Aaron’s the first one to speak, and you’re more than a little touched by the concern in his voice as he addresses JJ and JJ alone. “Is there a problem?”

Will dips his head, and you know he’s disappointed.

What the hell is going on?

She turns toward the team. With a little laugh, she says, “I’m pregnant.”

Hotch freezes, and you step close to him as Emily congratulates her. Will extends his hand and Hotch shakes it again. “I’ve asked JJ to marry me.”

JJ whirls around, and there’s a warning in her voice. “Will.”

“We’re, ah, working out some kinks.”

“We’ll, um” Aaron says, coming back to himself, “give you both some privacy.” He nods and steps away. You follow close behind him, but you fall back as JJ hops after him.

“Hotch -”

There’s something in his voice you’ve never heard before when he replies. “JJ, you could have told me.” He almost sounds...hurt? Your brow crumples, and you try to stay out of his eye line as they chat.

Pin that for later...

“I know.”

“I understand if you need to take some time.”

“No, I want to be here.” She’s firm in her conviction, and you can’t say you’d be any different if you were in any similar situation - injury, illness, otherwise.

“Okay. Seven AM.”

She nods and turns back to Will while Hotch continues toward the elevators. The rest of the team passes ahead of you, leaping into the open lift. Aaron hangs back and you follow his lead, letting the doors close.

“Are you okay?”

He sighs. “Yeah. Just unexpected.”

Taking a little leap, you step close to him in a show of camaraderie. He’d never let on, but he needs contact sometimes. You might even go so far as to say the poor man is touch-starved.

He wraps his arm around you, and you bite back a pleased smile, feeling more than a little chuffed. You examine his profile. “What’s on your mind?”

His shrug says many things. His sigh says more.

“Yeah,” you say. “I know.”

+++

“We’re not having that discussion, right now.” Hotch’s cutoff is flat, and it shoots irritation through you.

Your brow furrows, and you sputter for a second before turning on him. “What’s with you? That’s like the sixth time you’ve shut me down today.”

Hotch opens his mouth to reply, but before he can, Kate’s voice chirps from behind you.

“Are all your younger agents this insubordinate, Aaron, or is it limited to this one?”

You grit your teeth, and blatantly ignore the apology blossoming in Hotch’s eyes as you say, “Excuse me, sir.” You turn your head, not quite looking at Kate. “Agent Joyner.” You brush past Hotch, almost shoulder-checking him, and leave the room. The door shuts loudly behind you.

Derek looks up, and you wave him off as he rises to follow.

Throwing the stairway door open, you fly down two flights of stairs before sitting heavily upon the landing. You throw your blazer off, the heat under the fabric only fueling your anger.

Your hands cover your face and you manage three deep breaths before tears press in at your eyes. Molten humiliation courses through you, your face hot and hands shaking.

It’s not fair to expect Kate to understand the rapport you have with Hotch, why you can push him inexplicably further than the rest of your team. It’s not fair, but you still feel betrayed by Hotch’s accommodation of her insecurity and Kate’s own ridiculousness.

The lack of sleep doesn’t help.

A few relevant thoughts regarding the profile float through your head and you pin them for later.

The door opens two floors above, and you hear Aaron’s familiar footsteps hesitate before they slowly descend to your level. You keep your face pressed into your hands as he sits beside you, resting his arms on his knees.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so hard on you today.”

You sniff, but don’t answer. He waits for you, a few minutes passing in silence, but you don’t have anything to say.

“I’ve done my best to make Kate feel supported, but I -” he huffs, and you know he’s working hard to properly articulate his feelings. You appreciate it. “I’ve failed both you and Morgan in the process. I’ve explained the situation to him, but I didn’t speak to you before I…” He trails off. “For that, I’m sorry.”

You drop your hands from your face, wiping at the evidence of your anger. “Just...remember who’s on your team, would you?”

“I do.”

“Then -” You throw your arms up and huff at him, his response inspiring a new wave of irritation in your chest. “Then why the fuck are you riding my ass about this shit today? You haven’t taken a single one of my ideas, and all but one has been really good.”

He sighs. “I know. I also know that you can take it. I trust you to be resilient in difficult political situations such as this one. I don’t have that same trust in Kate right now.” He pauses and you watch his left thumb worry a track back and forth over the knuckle of his middle finger. Your eyes wander to the barely-noticeable tan line where his wedding ring used to sit. With a start, you realize you didn’t notice its absence and you don’t know when he took it off. When he speaks again, your eyes snap back to your feet. “Your ability to step away instead of rightfully lashing out at Kate speaks to your excellence and professionalism in your role, and shows me my faith is not misplaced.”

You look at him, finding his brown eyes soft and apologetic. “Thanks.”

He grabs your blazer off the ground and stands. He straightens his suit jacket, offering you a hand. You take it and rise, using the back of your other hand to rid yourself entirely of tears.

With gentle hands, he slips your blazer over your shoulders, fixing the collar and brushing debris off the back. You let him fuss, knowing all the while his concern is another apology.

“It’s far too organized to be just organized crime, by the way,” you inform him casually, as if remarking on the weather.

He looks almost startled. “What?”

You tug on his arm and take the stairs two at a time back up to Kate’s floor. “Look.” He follows you as you burst back through both sets of doors into the conference room, stepping in front of Kate for access to the map. “We have more than one unsub. They’ve attacked different neighborhoods across Manhattan - all different demographic and socio-economic backgrounds. They’re trying to send a message, and each attack is a play to build their audience. If anything, our presence tells them that it’s working.”

A look of realization crosses Hotch’s face, and he presses a hand to your shoulder, his fingertips squeezing just a little before he lets go. “Well done.” He turns to Kate. “We’re ready to update the working profile.”

You keep your eyes trained on Aaron, but Kate’s clenched jaw doesn’t escape your notice.

+++

“Focused? From where I’m standing, your focus is on her.”

It’s finally come to a head. Derek has absolutely lost it, rightfully so, in the middle of the federal building, while Hotch tries to keep the peace, and Kate looks appropriately chastised.

You reach for Derek’s elbow with gentle fingers, but he shakes you off.

“Take a walk. Now.” Aaron’s tone is nothing to trifle with, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

Fuck.

“Derek. C’mon.” You yank once on his sleeve and lead him out the doors. He’s pissed, almost vibrating with energy.

You look over your shoulder exactly once to check on Aaron, who leans heavily over a desk. When he looks up, you turn your head before he can meet your gaze.

Yes, it’s a punishment. Yes, he knows it. He'll get your attention once he’s earned it again.

Derek cools off a little once you get outside, and he leads the way to the hotel bar. You’re sure you'd be better off returning to your post upstairs, but he needs you more than anyone else right now.

You also don’t trust yourself to be in the same room as Aaron - the likelihood of losing your usually-endless patience with him is dangerously high. At this rate, you’d get yourself a first-class ticket to Suspension City - at worst ending with your removal from the unit.

There was no way on this green earth that you’d end up off the unit of Hotch had any say, but your exhausted brain was only giving you the worst-case scenario at the moment.

He sits heavily on a barstool and orders a Stella. You don’t comment on his choice to drink while on the clock. You take a water, and wait for him to speak. He doesn’t touch his beer.

“Thanks for coming with me.”

“Of course.”

“You should go back.”

Looking up, you see Rossi walking through the doors. “Alright, but you’re not getting out of anything.” By the time you’ve finished, Dave is at Derek’s other side, getting comfortable. You press a hand to Derek’s shoulder, leaving them alone.

You take a few deep breaths before returning to the proper floor. Kate is in her office with Hotch over her shoulder.

He looks up when you walk in. How’s Morgan?

“He’ll be back.”

+++

You reach Emily with Derek and JJ, and she looks flustered.

“Are you okay?” Derek takes stock of Emily, but you figure out there’s nothing to know about Cooper.

Emily walks through the moments before and during the shooting, growing increasingly intense. You watch her as Derek digs and digs - finding the right questions for the answers she wants to share.

“Wait,” you ask. “You think he deliberately shot someone where he could be caught?”

“What if he did?” Her eyes are wild, angry. “What if they chose this spot because we were here?”

“What are you thinking?” Derek leans forward, searching her face for answers.

She enumerates her points. “He had no ID on him. He waited until we caught up to him. He was strangely calm- it’s almost like suicide by cop.”

“Why?” You hear yourself ask. “Why would he do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe to make us think everything was finished.”

You look at Derek. He looks back at you.

“We need to walk back through this profile.”

Just then, Aaron and Kate dip under the police tape and make a beeline for Rossi and Reid. Dave looks grim and you can’t hear what they’re saying, but you’re sure they’ve come to the same conclusion as you.

Terrorism.

+++

“So much for theory.” Dave uncrosses his arms and the room leaps into action.

Kate grabs her blazer and looks at Aaron. “We need to hit the ground running.”

“I'm gonna head to the hospital,” Emily says, already headed for the door. “I'll check on Cooper and brief detective Brustin.”

“Good.” Aaron makes the rest of the assignments. “Dave, will you go talk to the commissioner?” He assigns you and Derek to Homeland Security for a briefing, and you grab your things. You will be Derek’s shadow for the duration, and you’re more than happy you’re with him.

So why does something feel...wrong?

You look at Aaron, and his brow is furrowed. He meets your eyes. What’s wrong?

I don’t know.

His mouth presses into a thin line. This first, then that.

You nod and he starts talking again. “Kate and I will go talk to the mayor and we'll meet back here as soon as possible.”

“One advantage that we have right now is that they don't know we know they're watching.”

For once, you agree with Kate. It’s about damn time.

+++

You get into the car with Derek and head toward the DHS field office.

“I’m proud of you, kid. You’ve done well.”

Smiling a little, you thank him. “Though I do think we’ve pushed Hotch to the absolute limit this week, between the two of us.”

He rolls his eyes, speeding down the shockingly barren New York streets. “If one of us isn’t, who is?”

“Rossi.”

You both freeze as an explosion goes off. You don’t know where it is, but Derek turns around with a spectacular screech of tires.

“Derek...What -”

“We’re going back. That’s not good. Let’s go.” He guns the engine, and you’re on your way back to the federal building with sirens blaring.

His phone rings and he checks the caller ID as he answers. “Yeah. I'm still here.” He looks at you. “We’re still here.”

“Yes, you are. Thank God.”

Garcia.

“I'm almost back at the federal building. What the hell's going on?”

“Alright, we're going over the closed-circuit footage right now.” You can hear her faintly through the phone, and he puts her on speaker.

“Who else have you checked on?”

“You're the first. Rossi and Reid called me.”

“All right. Keep me on the line while you check on everyone else.”

Emily picks up next. “Is everyone ok?”

Garcia tells her she’s got the both of you on the line, and she’s already spoken to Rossi and Reid.

Your body is almost completely bowed toward Derek, twisted in the passenger seat. “Emily, where are you?”

“I'm following detective Brustin to one of the NYPD’s Critical Incident Command Posts.”

“One of them?” Garcia’s confusion is only a little frantic, and you more than sympathize with her tangent. Anything is a better thought than the one you’re all sharing at this very moment.

Derek explains the decentralization of the CICP’s following 9/11 - too many eggs in one basket.

Garcia cuts him off, getting back on track. “Has anyone talked to JJ?”

Emily answers her. “She was headed back to the hotel.”

“In an SUV?

“I think so. Stay with me a minute. I'll dial her mobile.”

JJ’s voicemail rings through Derek’s phone, and your heart sinks. “This is Agent Jareau, Communications Director for the FBI’s Behavioral--” It cuts off.

You lean over the center console. “What was that? What happened?”

Garcia’s voice is flustered when she answers, “It went dead mid-message.”

“Try her again. She's probably back at--” You lose Emily.

You lost all of them in the middle of a sentence, and all the blood drains out of your face. Derek drops his phone into one of the cupholders and reaches out. You grab his hand, holding it in both of yours.

This is a nightmare.

Derek keeps driving, and you find a police barricade on your way back to the federal building. Derek throws the car into park and you both leap out of the car, flashing your badges at anyone who will look. You find the man in charge, but he tells you to get back to the federal building.

Hot anger flies through you.

Who does he think he is?

You stick close to Derek, but startle when you hear Hotch cry out. Pressing along the barricade, you call across the block. “Aaron! Aaron! We’re here!”

You get leave to go, and you and Derek sprint toward Aaron and Kate. He’s covered in blood, both his and Kate’s and you get on one side of him while Derek crouches on the other side of Kate. Your hands flutter over him for a moment, one of them landing on the nape of his neck. The softness of his hair is the same as it’s always been, and it grounds you.

“Aaron -”

He’s not looking at you. “Morgan, we've got to get her out of here.”

Derek throws his arm out of the side, outlining the situation. “They're not letting any ambulances down here ‘til they clear the scene.” He turns to the young man hovering behind Aaron. “Kid, you gotta get behind the barricades. Let's go. Go!”

Hotch nods at him. “Go, Sam.”

“Good luck.” The kid sprints off, and Derek draws Hotch’s focus again.

“Talk to me. Can we carry her?” He leans further over Kate, into Aaron’s eye line. “Hotch, can we carry her?”

“No, I tried. Morgan, she's gonna bleed to death if we don't get her out of here. We gotta do something.” The ache in his voice is horrible. You reach out, brushing some hair off Kate’s forehead. She’s cold to the touch, and you press your hand to the side of her face, willing your warmth into her.

“C’mon Kate.” You whisper to yourself. She’s still not your favorite person, but Aaron’s agony as he literally holds her body together tears your heart in two.

Derek’s phone rings, and it’s Penelope. “Garcia, I got Hotch. But listen to me. You gotta get somebody down here right away, you hear me? Right now. What? You're absolutely sure?” Derek looks up, finding the kid standing by the shelled remains of the car. “Hotch. The kid. He's the bomber.”

“Go.” Aaron’s voice is defeated, and you hesitate as your body coils to chase after Derek. Aaron looks at you. “Please. Stay.”

You nod, and tuck in close to him, keeping one hand on his arm and another on Kate’s cheek. An ambulance pulls up, and you’re more than relieved.

Hotch briefs the paramedic. “She's got an arterial bleed in her back and I'm doing my best to hold it closed.

“You ok?”

Isn’t that the question of the hour.

“I just want to get her out of here.”

That’s not a fucking answer, Aaron.

You let it go, for now. He’s a mess, but he’s alive and he’s conscious. That’s what’s important right now. You tune back in.

“You were calling for help and I couldn't listen anymore. My partner was too afraid to come in here with me.”

Aaron leans into Kate, and your heart pulls again. “Kate, we're gonna get you out of here. We're on our way out of here.”

You help as much as you can, following instructions and making sure Kate’s stable.

+++

When you’re all finished, you get into the passenger seat of the ambulance. Hotch is on autopilot and he shouldn’t be driving, but you’re ready to take over at a moment’s notice.

When you’re stopped at the emergency room entrance, you flash your credentials as Hotch explains the situation as clearly as he can. The Secret Service agent reluctantly waves you through. Kate’s crashing in the back, and Aaron’s agitation flies through the roof.

It’s a blur, but you finally end up in the hospital, shadowing Aaron. He collapses, and you cry out for help, holding his hands as he hits the ground.

Everything's happening so fast.

When will it end?

+++

“Kiddo, where’s Hotch?” Derek comes flying through the doors of the ER, and you throw yourself into him.

“He’s fine. Massive trauma to his right ear and a shrapnel wound. Kate’s in surgery.”

There’s a commotion from behind the open door, and you both rush in when you hear Hotch’s voice.

You get in between Hotch and the attending, doing your best to calm him down. “Aaron, Hotch. Calm down. Slow down. You’re really hurt.”

“Where’s Kate?”

You press your hands into his wrists, and he twists his arms, surprising you by gripping your forearms. “She’s in surgery. Your go-bag is on its way. Nothing’s happened since the first blast.”

He looks somewhat placated but looks over at Derek. “Sam?”

“He’s dead.”

Hotch releases you. “Morgan, the profile's wrong. Call JJ.”

+++

“Are you ok?” Emily takes full stock of him, and isn’t happy with what she finds.

“Yeah. I just want to understand why I'm still alive.” You help him with his vest, minding his shoulder. You’re not sure what’s wrong with it, but he’s favoring one over the other. He looks at you, and there are thanks in his brown eyes. You offer him a quick, soft smile but continue with your task, gently tightening the vest around his tender ribs, smoothing over the velcro with even pressure.

You’re listening as they go along, talking signatures and bomb-making and all manner of horrific precedent. You pass two pieces of fresh cotton to Hotch, who immediately replaces the bloodied cotton in his right ear. He shakes his head with two deep blinks.

His ears are ringing something stupid right now, I bet.

I wish I could do more.

Just be here. Do your job. That’s what you can do.

All at once, you figure out that the ambulance is the bomb. You spot Hotch as he moves (way too fast) down the hallway.

Goddamn it, Aaron.

+++

The bastard slit his throat.

Fuck.

The look on Aaron’s face is nothing short of disgust, and you’re sure yours matches.

+++

You’re waiting for him when he walks out of the operating room. His eyes are hollow and they seem to look through you rather than at you.

“Hotch - Aaron - I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t particularly like Kate, but you know how much he cared for her. His pain often feels like yours - even more frequently, you can't parse his from yours. While you didn’t expect to mourn her, you find that weight in your belly anyway. Your eyes mist up against your will, your breath hitching in your throat.

He doesn’t say anything, and your voice is almost desperate when you ask, “What can I do?”

Brown eyes flicker around the room. He looks more like a caged animal in this moment than in any other you’ve ever seen. You approach him slowly, and you’re not sure if he heard you. There’s still blood on his neck from his ear, and you’re terrified he’s lost his hearing for good.

“Aaron?”

He finally acknowledges you when you’re close enough to him to take his hand. You catch him as he wilts, pressing a hand to the back of his head as he tucks his head into your neck.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Aaron.”

He mumbles something into your shoulder, and you lean back, holding him up with your hands on his biceps.

“What?”

“Call Haley. Tell her, please. They got along really well. She’d want to know.”

You nod and guide him to a chair. He sits heavily, tilting his head against the wall. Pulling your phone from your belt, you ask, “Do you want me to stay here?”

He nods, his eyes closed.

You dial the familiar number and hold the phone to your ear, settling down on his left so he can hear.

Haley answers the phone, a question at the end of your name.

“Yeah, Haley, it’s me. Hi.”

“Hi. Is everything okay?”

You look at Aaron, who’s still and quiet beside you. “Not really.”

“I heard about the bombing in New York, the murders...Is everyone alright?”

“We’re alright. Aaron’s fine - some mild injuries but nothing serious.”

“Okay?” You hear the unspoken question. Then why are you calling?

“I was told you’d - um.” You take a deep breath, and it catches. Aaron flips his hand palm-up on his knee, and you take it. “I was told you were close with Kate Joyner, from the New York field office. She used to be at Scotland Yard?”

“Oh, yes, of course!” Her voice falters. “Wait. Oh, God…”

“Haley I’m so sorry.” You swallow some tears. “I’m so sorry, but she was killed in the bombing.”

You hear a shaky breath on the other side of the line. “Oh.” There’s a pause, and you suspect she has more to say. You’re right. “Aaron told you to call, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

She sighs. “Can I talk to him?”

You look over and he nods, releasing your hand and holding it out for the phone. “Yeah, he’s right here.” She says something else, and you put the phone back to your ear. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I just wanted to thank you. Thank you for telling me.”

You nod to yourself. “Of course. Here’s Aaron.”

He takes the phone from you. An exhausted, “Hi,” leaves him.

“Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re alright.”

A little smile pulls at his lips. “I’m alright. How’re you?”

Her bright laugh echoes faintly through the phone, but there’s a solemn edge to it. “You’re asking me how I am?”

His eyebrows rise, his eyes still closed. “Isn’t that polite?”

You can almost see her suppressed smile. “It is. I’m fine. Jessica and I just finished dinner and put Jack down for the night.”

“How’s Jack?”

You tune out, the exhaustion taking over. Aaron pats the seat on his other side and you shuffle around, tucking yourself under his open arm. Leaning against his shoulder, you close your eyes, letting the voices of two divorced people who love each other very much lull you into something that feels a little like sleep.

+++

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#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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ericsonclan · 3 years

Text

Inseparable

Summary: Clementine heads out to hunt with AJ looking forward to spend some time with the one she loves most.

Word Count: 3138

Read on AO3:

Clementine glanced down at the worn-out map of Ericson and gave a long sigh. Things were really starting to come together around here. It had taken a lot of work and time to process all that had happened but after what felt like countless months they had finally reached it. A new normal.

Clementine’s eyes studied the map once more, her fingers tracing the different markers until they paused on the marker for the traps. Today was the day. She’d finally go out and get to help with hunting again instead of being stuck with indoor chores. She knew exactly which partner she wanted to take with her. Clementine smiled softly to herself then folded up the map and tucked it away in the headmaster's desk.

With a deep breath Clementine turned sharply on her heel and opened the door. Her fingertips brushed against the hallway wall as she moved forward. For some reason she was swept up in a feeling of nostalgia; maybe it was because things were finally truly looking up. She had been cleared to help out on all chores now. She had gone hunting a handful of times already. Louis had always jumped to volunteer to go with her and each time they went out he’d been extra protective of her, making sure that the coast was clear each step of the way.

But today she wanted to give Louis a break, let him focus on other things and go with the person who was the nearest and dearest to her heart. All she had to do was find AJ. He wouldn’t be hard to spot with his afro and never-ending energy and determination to help protect the school.

Clementine moved down the stairway carefully since she was still getting used to the newest prosthetic that Willy had made her and headed toward the door. With a strong push she opened it and was greeted immediately by Rosie. The pitbull happily wagged her tail and moseyed over to Clementine, giving her hand plentiful licks.

“Hey, girl,” Clementine laughed and wiped the dog's saliva off her left hand before giving Rosie some much needed head scratches. The pitbull soaked up the love and happily panted, her tongue drooped out of the right side of her mouth as she enjoyed this simple bliss. Clementine chuckled once more then looked up. Her eyes scanned the courtyard and noticed that Aasim was helping carry some fertilizer over with Ruby, their joined hands lazily swaying back and forth as he whispered sweet words into Ruby’s ear. The redhead’s rosy cheeks turned rosier as she stopped for a moment and got up on her tiptoes to surprise Aasim with a tender kiss. Aasim was shocked for a moment but immediately deepened the kiss before leading the way towards the greenhouse to store away the fertilizer. Omar waved towards the pair from the watchtower and exchanged a few words then resumed his lookout duty.

“That's bullshit!” Violet’s voice made Clementine glance over to see her friend crossing her arms as Louis gave a shrug.

“The game is the game,” Louis offered his best friend a playful smile as he shuffled the cards with a bit of a flamboyant flair.

“The only reason you're winning is because I’m fucking blind,” Violet grumbled and leaned her arms on the table. Her eyes tried to follow Louis’ movement as he started to deal the cards.

“Partially blind, and no, I’m winning because I’m the best at card games,” Louis’ statement made Violet roll her eyes. “In fact you might say I am the greatest card player to ever live! I-”

“Just deal the damn cards,” Violet groaned and waited until all the cards had been dealt before picking them up. She was acting like this game wasn’t fair and that she was just doing this for Louis’ sake but the small smile on her lips showed her real feelings. Based on the grin on Louis’ face, he had picked up on that too.

Clementine’s eyes moved away from the pair and over towards the loud laughter nearby. Willy was happily chasing AJ who kept bobbing and weaving through the courtyard to avoid his friend. Stretching his arm out, AJ grabbed the flagpole and spun around to dodge Willy as he tried to tag him.

“Gotta be faster, dummy!” AJ smiled back at Willy who frowned for a second before a confident smile appeared on his face.

“You’re gonna be the dummy when I finally tag you!” Willy sprinted forward and began to close the distance between the two of them. AJ’s eyes grew large and he quickly sidestepped to avoid Willy, laughing smugly when he was successful.

AJ was about to run off again but he stopped when he noticed Clementine. His eyes immediately shone with joy and he scampered forward. “Time out!” AJ yelled as he ran up the steps of the admin building, jumping over steps to reach Clementine faster. His arms stretched foward and he tackled Clementine in a loving hug. He had put so much force into it that it caused Clementine to stumble back a bit.

“Whoa there, kiddo! You gotta give me some warning next time,” Clementine teased as she ruffled AJ’s afro fondly. AJ looked up with a big smile, only a flicker of apology in his eyes.

“Sorry. Oh! You wanna play tag with me and Willy?” AJ asked, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet.

“Not now, goofball. I was going to go out hunting and I was hoping I’d find you because I needed to ask you something,”

That statement made AJ’s nose scrunch up. “What?”

Clementine knelt down in front of AJ to be more at his level, a warm smile on her lips. “Want to be my hunting buddy today?”

AJ’s eyes grew large and he nodded excitedly. “Yes! Are we going now?”

“Yep, just gonna grab my bow and I’ll be all set,” Clementine smiled when she saw AJ’s little happy dance. She loved whenever he got excited enough to do that.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to keep you safe,” AJ’s expression turned serious and he met Clementine’s eyes. “I’ve been working hard.” He patted his hip which had a sheath with his knife in it, a gift that Clementine and Louis had bartered for with a caravan not long ago. Clementine had wanted to make sure that AJ had a weapon all his own so he wouldn’t have to rely on shivs anymore.

“I know you will,” Clementine pulled AJ in for another hug then started to walk towards the targets where the bows were kept while AJ went to explain to Willy that their game of tag would have to wait.

Clementine’s eyes searched the pile of bows and landed upon Marlon’s old bow. Her hand grasped it and she examined it closely, her mind being drawn back to the day it had been fished up from the stream by the fishing shack. Even though Clementine had mixed feelings about Marlon and what had transpired she still found it fitting that his bow would continue to protect the school.

“I heard you’re heading out,” Louis’ voice shook Clementine from her inner thoughts and she looked over at her boyfriend whose eyes held love and concern for her.

“Yeah, don’t worry,” Clementine took one of Louis’ hands and gave it a gentle squeeze. “AJ and I will be safe. I promise.”

Louis still seemed worried but he nodded. “Okay, you better be because if anything happened to you or that little dude-” Louis’ throat became tight and he took a deep breath. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with? Because I totally can.” “No, it's okay. I think it's good for you to have some down time. You’ve been pushing yourself so hard lately and besides I think some one on one time with AJ will be good for me too,”

Louis nodded and gave Clementine a quick, warm kiss that soon turned into many before he wrapped her up in a hug.

“Be safe,” he whispered into Clementine’s ear and she immediately returned the hug.

“Always,” Clementine held on tight then slipped her hands free and gave Louis one final goodbye kiss.

“Clem! I’m ready!” AJ declared proudly as he barreled forward with Rosie in tow. “Rosie wanted to come too. Is that okay?”

“Sure, I think that's a great idea.” Clementine ruffled AJ’s afro once more then started to head over towards the gate. Giving their final goodbye waves, the trio set out towards the traps.

“So, you gonna be my eyes and ears to make sure no walkers get near me?” Clementine smiled over at AJ who nodded determinedly.

“Yeah, those monsters won’t get near you,” AJ’s grip on his knife tightened and Rosie gave a small bark in agreement.

Clementine smiled at that; she really was lucky to have AJ beside her. He had kept her going throughout all those hellish years on the road, had always been by her side and had kept her safe just like she did for him. Now they’d continue to be the inseparable duo they always were excect now they had a forever home to come back to. After all those years of searching they had finally found their home. The thought made Clementine’s heart swell with pure happiness as she notched an arrow to prepare to snag any rabbits that came their way.

The two walked side by side down the trail, the leaves and twigs crunching and snapping underfoot as they were on the lookout for both walkers and rabbits. An unnerving groan to Clementine’s left drew her attention and she pulled back the drawstring, releasing the arrow and hitting a walker right in between the eyes. Walking over, she pulled out the used arrow and brushed the blood off on the side of her pant leg.

“I get the next one,” AJ commented as he jogged over to Clementine, Rosie right on his tail.

“Alright,” Clementine nodded, then led the way forward. It wasn’t long before another walker was spotted. “Okay, AJ, now remember-”

“Kick out the leg then aim for the head,” AJ finished Clementine’s instruction then moved forward to take down the walker.

“Hey, stupidhead!” AJ yelled, getting the walker’s attention. The walker roamed forward, its milky eyes staring blankly at AJ as it extended its arms to grab its next meal. AJ easily dodged its attempt to grab him though and kicked out its leg. The walker fell with a groan and AJ lifted up his knife and plunged it into the walker’s skull. His blade became slick with blood and brain matter as he yanked it out, causing the walker to fall over dead. AJ took a deep breath then looked back at Clementine with a smile.

Clementine returned the smile, her eyes shining with pride as AJ ran back towards her. “That was great, AJ. You’ve really gotten better with the knife,” Clementine knelt down. “You’ve definitely grown.” “I’ve always been this tough, Clem,” AJ corrected and Clementine gave a small laugh.

“Yeah, you have. Have I ever told you how proud I am of you?” Clementine asked as she led the way once more.

“Yeah, all the time,” AJ jogged forward along with Rosie, his eyes peeled for any signs of threats.

“Well, I’m gonna tell you again. I’m super proud of you, AJ.” Clementine smiled over at AJ who beamed at her praise. After a moment of them sharing a smile both focused back on the trail, making sure the path was clear. Soon the two got into a rhythm along with Rosie, clearing out walkers. There weren’t that many today which was nice and with how capable all three of them were it was easy to clear the way.

“Do you need a break, Clem? Is your leg hurting?” AJ stopped and looked at Clementine, his hands on his hips. “You gotta make sure you don’t push it.”

“I’m not. My leg is okay for now. I promise that as soon as it's too much I’ll tell you,”

AJ thought about Clementine’s words for a moment then gave a nod. “Okay, promise?” He held out his pinky.

“Promise,” Clementine intertwined her pinky with his. The two shared a smile then continued forward.

After a minute they had reached the traps and then began to undo the ones that had been triggered, taking the game and then resetting them once more. It seemed like a fairly good haul today. They didn’t need to gather as much as before now that they had the rabbit pen but still it was good not to abuse that and grow cocky in thinking it was unlimited.

Clementine handed over some more of the rabbits to AJ who had offered to carry some more then began to walk towards the next trap, careful to avoid setting off another. Suddenly though her balance shifted due to her still getting used to this newest prototype and her foot gave out, leading it to get snagged in the trap. A small, startled yell left her lips as she immediately flipped upside down as the trap pulled her up into the air.

“Clem!” AJ’s voice was frantic as he ran forward with Rosie who gave a worried bark.

“I’m fine, kiddo. Just lost my footing for a second there. Mind helping me get down? I-” Clementine froze when she saw a group of four walkers roam forward. Low, gurling moans left their hollow throats as they approached. “AJ! Behind you!”

AJ spun around, his knife drawn as his eyes grew big. Rosie growled protectively and got ready to take down the walkers before her.

“Don’t worry, Clem, I’ve got this,” AJ took a deep breath and tossed the rabbits to the ground then shuffled over to the right to take down the walker that was furthest away from the others. Picking up a rock, AJ tossed it against a tree to draw over the walker.

The walker’s head tilted as its jaw flapped due to it being loose and decayed. Stumbling forward, the walker went for its new target. AJ used that to his advantage and harshly kicked out its leg before embedding his knife into its head. He grunted as he struggled to pull out the knife. His sounds of struggle drew one of the other walker’s attention who wandered towards the child.

Clementine felt her fear rising and she tried to lift herself up to cut the rope and get free. Unsheathing her knife, she leaned up and was nearly at the rope when her knife dropped. “Shit! Fuck!” Clementine whacked against the tree due to the force of her swaying. Her eyes immediately went back to AJ who had successfully gotten the knife out of the first walker’s skull but the other walker was nearly upon him now.

Suddenly Rosie dashed forward and jumped onto the walker, pushing it down. The walker groaned, its arms flailing about until Rosie’s maw pierced into its skull and crushed it into a bloody pulp. Brain matter and blood coated the pitbull’s mouth as she moved to attack another walker, her teeth ending its existence in mere seconds.

AJ took a deep breath and picked up the rock. Using the same tactic again, he guided the last walker over to a secluded spot and kicked out its knee. With a sharp jab AJ’s knife ended the walker’s hollow life and soon the monster was on the ground, limpless and lifeless. AJ let out a shaky sigh and gave Rosie some head pats then ran over towards Clementine. “I did it!” He smiled proudly and Clementine returned it, her heart relieved that he was okay.

“You did. Good job, AJ!”

AJ’s smile grew at that praise before he turned his attention towards helping get Clementine down. Studying the tree for a moment, AJ proceeded to climb it carefully while holding the handle of the knife in his mouth. He’d have to cut the trap, destroying it in the process, but he’d make up for it by helping Willy whenever he came out with Louis to replace the trap. Holding onto the tree with one hand, AJ spat out his knife into his other hand and worked to cut down Clementine. The edge of his blade slid back and forth on the rope, slowly cutting through each thread until finally it snapped and Clementine came crashing down. Clementine gave a pained groan as she landed, causing AJ’s eyes to widen with worry.

“Clem!” AJ hastily climbed down the tree and placed away his knife before running over to check on her. “Are you okay? I was trying to help and- Did I do a bad?” AJ had a guilty pout as his sight turned to Clementine.

Clementine took a shaky breath and got up then kneeled in front of AJ. Without a word she wrapped him in a hug. “No, you did good. You helped make sure I was okay. You and Rosie both,”

The pitbull barked happily at the mention of her name, her stub tail wagging back and forth.

AJ held tightly onto the hug. “Told ya I’d keep you safe,”

“You did,” Clementine pulled back and gave AJ a smile. “Now how about we take what we caught for the day and head back home.”

“Okay,” AJ ran over to pick up the game and separated it evenly while Clementine retrieved her knife and bow, glad that both weapons were still in good condition. She paused for a moment and looked at AJ.

AJ felt her staring and his sight turned towards her. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just glad I have you, that's all.”

Clementine’s words made AJ’s heart warm with happiness. “Me too!” He smiled as Clementine wrapped her arm around him and planted a kiss on the top of his head. “Bleh, a kiss!” “Hey now! That was to show that I love you,” Clementine defended her gesture as AJ walked forward.

“I already know you love me,” AJ looked back at Clementine, waiting for her to catch up. Clementine sighed and ran forward to catch up with AJ before the two wandered back down the path with Rosie in tow.

“Well, even if you know it, I’m gonna keep showing you that I do and keep saying it. I love you, AJ.” Clementine’s eyes locked with his.

“I love you too,” AJ smiled brightly up at Clementine and he led the way forward. His heart was warm with those words and his pulse had settled now that Clementine was safe. As AJ walked forward through the woods towards his home he knew that no matter what they’d always look out for each other and would always be together. They were inseparable.

#twdg #twdg clementine #twdg aj #twdg louis #twdg violet #twdg ruby #twdg aasim #twdg willy #twdg rosie #twdg omar #clem aj brotp #clouis #rusim #louis violet brotp #willy aj brotp #clem rosie brotp #aj rosie brotp #fanfic

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purplelurkinghini · 3 years

Text

Narcissus by the Pond

0. PROLOGUE

Under the cut is the prologue to yet another multi-chapter mess I am planning to write. What is different about this one is the narrator: Edward Nygma himself. Another aspect of this piece that sets it apart from the rest of my writing is its epistolary form. That’s right, baby! First-person POV!

If you’ve seen >> this << post floating around, this is indeed me actually putting that second prompt to use.

Enjoy!

Dear ▚▛▙▙

I found a cat toy while cleaning out my closet today. It was that ashy plush mouse stuffed with dried nepeta cataria which you spent money on instead of saving up for your student loans. If he were still here, he’d be rolling around on the floor in some vivid dream in which he was a lion and it was a gazelle. And, if you were still here, I would’ve asked you to stay.

The day you got that tabby’s claws into me was the day you checked into work late. Frank, our project manager and your internship supervisor, had to drop his showman act and instill in you the fear all WayneTech employees are motivated by. After you offered your excuses and exchanged glances with the floor, you were free to enter the kitchen to heat up the coffees that you went out of your way to fetch for us each morning.

My daily routine, which you’ve played no small role in forming during your short stay with us, was disrupted by the absence of caffeine in my bloodstream. I remember my Rubik’s cube and how I crammed a corner into my palm, squeezing down on the still unscrambled sides. I would call it an ‘absentminded’ action, but we both know that would be an incorrect assessment. My mind is never not present, even as it wanders. For this reason, when you finally came out of the kitchen, I couldn’t not wonder what happened to your sweatshirt. It must’ve been soaked in rainwater, I concluded, and that was the reason you removed it. Or, rather, that was the excuse you used as you removed it. After all, your sneakers were soggy, but you couldn't exactly walk barefoot all over a corporate. Even so, there you were, in a far too small t-shirt which was too tight around your torso and too short to cover your stomach, walking around the office with your brewed bribes.

“Here you go, Jim” you placed the foam cup right in front of his face to get him to notice you. I’d argue that that slip of skin that was eye level to him was enough to get that scatterbrain's attention. He must’ve made a joke, or attempted to, because you laughed louder than anyone should around him.

“Cory,” you sauntered over to him. “I asked the barista for two tablespoons and a half this time.” Sure, he might’ve taken his glasses off before taste-testing it, but his lenses were fogged-up before the lid came off. You felt the most confidence around Cory, the least confident one in our team. While no line of code was too complex for him, women were a mystery he had yet to solve. You see, I haven’t failed to notice you making the most physical contact with him, brushing your hand against his as a means of disarming him.

After he served you a stuttered smile, you moved on to Paul who was pretending to be preoccupied with his screen. He’d been watching you since you walked out of the kitchen, yet still acted surprised when you showed up next to him. You didn’t mean to disturb him, of course, so you tip-toed around his desk, silently setting the cup on a coaster. He thanked you without taking his eyes off of his work, but took the time to watch you walk away as soon as you turned away from him.

"I'm sorry, Ed," you pouted as you placed the coffee on top of a stack of papers. "I know like to have your coffee before 8, but the storm hit while I was in the shop and the whole street took cover in there-"

"Slow down," I released the Rubik’s cube, flexing my fingers. "I'm not your supervisor. It’s not my forgiveness you need."

"Well, no, but I actually want your forgiveness," you covered your mouth in a coquettish display. "I mean-"

“Like I said,” I brush off the blush creeping up on my cheeks. "There's no use for that." Fetching the foam cup, I take a sip of the scolding beverage and brave through it. “There's no use to ask the barista to write our full names either. This calligraphy exercise cost you a scolding from Frank.”

“Actually,” you pulled the hem of your shirt down which only uncovered more of your cleavage instead of hiding your stomach. “I wrote your name myself.”

I stroked the surface of the cup right across the script. Again, I can’t call this action ‘absentminded’ either, but my mind had wandered off again. That lovely lettering was yours and so was the green marker, so you must’ve scavenged your backpack for it on a crowded morning train. You also must’ve taken your time steadying your hand for each stroke, each dot. E. Nygma. You also must’ve cleaned up the cup as it inevitably spilled and steadied your tongue for each stroke, each lick. Maybe you ever sampled the coffee yourself, the taste of cherry Chapstick staining the rim.

“Well,” you interrupted my intrusive thoughts. “Jim’s showing me the new user interface, so-”

“Of course,” I dismissed you and my daydreams.

“Talk to you later.”

Yes, that was the day the cat got his claws into me. It was after I’d drained the drink, and found myself restless still, that I made my way into the kitchen for another one. That is when I spotted you in the corner, cradling the sweatshirt you discarded earlier. At the sound of my steps, you straightened your back, but you didn’t turn your torso towards me.

“Hey, Ed,” you smiled and it was a painful sight because I couldn’t ignore the panic I ignited in your eyes. “Lunchtime already?”

“What are you doing?”

“Umm, trying to dry my shirt?”

The closer I got, the more gregarious you grew. You asked about what I’d like to eat, what the guys would like to eat, if I’d like to order out. You didn’t stop until I asked it of you.

“What are you hiding from me?”

Before you could bellow out something long enough to cover the sound, I heard it.

“Did your hoodie just meow?”

It was only then that you turned, facing me fully. “Please don’t tell Frank, but this is the reason I was running late.” Two pairs of eyes were pleading with me. One belonged to you and they were begging. The other belonged to an orange ball of fur and they were unblinking.

You were holding a bottle cap filled with water up to its meowing maw, so you must’ve been attempting to keep the animal hydrated, even after rescuing it from the streets in the middle of a storm. You bought kitten kibbles on your way to WayneTech and that had eaten ten minutes of your time and cost you a scolding from Frank.

“I couldn’t just leave Eddie to drown in a ditch somewhere.”

“Eddie?”

“Yeah,” you let it sink its little teeth into your skin as it held a single finger close with two whole paws. They feel like needles, I should know, but you carried on cooing the pincushion. “He reminds me of another green-eyed ginger. Maybe you know him.”

Yes, you remember now, don’t you? That was the moment Eddie sunk his claws into me, and I do mean it literally. He released your finger only to get his paws trapped into my button-up. I also mean it figuratively, as I swore to keep your secret the very next second. And, once you were by my side, shadowing me as I was coding like you wanted to since your first day of internship, you made me swear to keep him. How could I not? Your dorm had a ‘no pets’ policy and you had named him after me.

The two of us had time to get acquainted after you left for your evening classes. I fed him the kibbles and was careful not to get caught. And, because I wouldn't be using it that day anyway, I replaced your sweatshirt with my gym towel. While it smelled like a sad, soaked kitten, whatever fruity fragrance you were using had yet to fade from the fabric. That evening I drove straight home as soon as I left WayneTech, skipping my daily workout. My daily routine, as I’ve mentioned, had been modified by you.

“We don't even need to potty train him,” you giggled when you saw Eddie digging through the brand new litter box I had ordered. It had been waiting for me by the front entrance along with the delivery guy and yourself.

You got into a cab before even texting me, asking for an address only after the driver started the clock. I expected that stupid stunt from the likes of Jim, not you.

“He's a clever boy,” I smiled when I saw you were still wearing the green button-up shirt I asked you to exchange that shrunken t-shirt of yours with. “Like his namesake.”

You kneeled before the kitten and produced the plush mouse I'd only seen Eddie play with once. “Did the shampoo arrive? He should be high enough to not scratch our eyes out now.”

After rolling around on the rug with a bag full of catnip, he seemed blissed out enough for a bath. And, after only scratching you twice as you held him for me to scrub his ginger fur ever so gently, we got him all dried and drained. Those green eyes were barely opened as he looked up at us from the cat bed he was supposed to grow into and the sweatshirt he had grown fond of.

“Now we know he hates all water,” you said through gritted teeth as I sanitized your shaking hands. Your fingers were as fidgety as Cory's, yet I doubt his skin was ever that soft. “Not just the rain.”

“I bet he'd hate flees more,” I caressed your knuckles after bandaging the bloody bits.

“I hate the rain, too,” your eyes were downcast, much like earlier that morning, seemingly searching my sheets for something. “I never knew Frank could be so-”

“Terrifying?”

“Mean,” your giggle wasn't as gleeful as I'd grown used to. “I thought he was going to fire me right then and there.”

“He wouldn't,” I squeezed down on the shadows of your hands as they were snatched away from me. Then, I leaned in close and almost brushed your love with my lips as they moved: “He will let the anxiety that comes with that uncertainty eat you alive first.”

“See, now you're being mean,” you laughed, finally looking up at me.

“Me? Never,” I said, satisfied with myself. You were laughing - actually laughing - because of me.

When the dryer dinged, I was confident in leaving you in my bedroom with a smile on your face. After all, I was the one who brought you in there and I was the one who brought that out of you. Once I've collected your clothes, I returned to find you had already removed my button-up and was drying up the rest of your skin with one of my towels. You were turned only half the way, so you must've perceived me in your periphery. Paul pulled the same thing earlier today. Still, you sounded surprised as you covered the side of your breasts I bet you wanted me to see.

"Forgive me,” I turned around, but, unlike you, I did it all the way. “Here you are,” I stretched my arm behind me to hand you the bra and t-shirt.

“Thank you.” It was only after your bomber jacket was zipped to your chin that I dared to look at you directly. Your sweatshirt was Eddie's now, so you covered up with what you had. “For everything.”

“Let me drive you to your dorm.”

"You've already done enough," you pulled out your phone as I walked you to the door. “I'll just call another cab. Eddie needs you here. You need to wear him out, or he'll wear you out tonight.”

“Cats are crepuscular creatures,” I assure you. “Not nocturnal. I'm sure he'll fall asleep before I even turn in for the night.”

Yes, I was sure he'd fall. However, Eddie was so convinced. And, sure enough, there he was, meowing in my face at midnight.

My mistake was letting him get his claws into me. You see, I couldn't bear waking that little bastard up. Not when he looked so small in the middle of your sweatshirt, in the middle of his bed. He finally had a dry place to dream in and I couldn't take that away from him, so I let him sink his claws into me that much deeper.

And yours, as well.

After chasing him with my hand atop of my covers and letting him swat at the finger-spider, he was ready for bed. My bed. Yes, his green eyes were drooping when he surrendered to sleep. It just so happened that he did it on the left side of my bed. And I, not willing to risk another rude awakening, placed him atop of the pillow. Then, ever so silently, I slipped out of bed and into the bathroom. It was on my way back that I stumbled upon it: your sweatshirt.

I recall calling it off the floor and taking it with me to bed. For Eddie, of course. He loved that sweatshirt, as I'm sure you know. However, as I placed it on his pillow, I caught a whiff of it. It smelled like rainwater, pet shampoo, Eddie, and you. It was your sweat and deodorant, sweet and soapy, just as I had smelled it on my shirt before tossing it in the laundry basket and I couldn't smell it on the left side of my bed.

As I closed my eyes, I saw you. You were walking around the office, their wandering eyes watching you. You pass my desk and I am drenched in your scent. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking. Your sweatshirt is drenched, so you discard it. Your t-shirt is too tight, so I can see the dip of your belly button and the swell of your breasts. Though I am convinced you had a bra to cover them, my mind wanders. It wanders about the color of your nipples and it paints a picture of them peeking through the flimsy fabric.

And, as my mind wanders further, that flimsy fabric is pulled down, your hands wriggling at the hem of it. That's when those peeks pop out along with the rest. All of a sudden, you're soaking. Sweet. Soapy. You even try to hide this from me, crossing your arms over your chest. I capture your hands, soft skin, and fidgeting fingers, and wrestle with them. Oh, how easily you surrendered to me, sighing in defeat. I lock your arms behind your back with one hand and squeeze your tit like a stress toy. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking. I had to taste it.

When my tongue touched the tip, you pushed against it, filling my mouth with your flesh. You wanted this. That nipple is as sharp as a needle, but it melts in the heat of my mouth. You wanted this. After your tit is slick with my saliva and the peak is all puffy, I gather the other one in my grip and repeat. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking.

You wanted this and you told me as much. You said it loud enough for the others to hear. You wanted this. You wanted me. And, as if I haven't done enough, as if I haven't given you enough, I gave you all of me. Clearing the desk, cube, keypad, computer, and all, I slam you atop the surface. I had to pull down your pants for you, but your legs part all on their own. As for your panties, well, they all but dissolved under the duress. You attempt to hide from me again, tightening your thighs together. And, again, you surrender to me all too easily. After all, you want me. Your pussy? As I parted your legs and pushed your knees up to your chest, I saw how much she wanted me. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking.

However, I was not in a hurry. No matter how hot were your insides and how cold the chills were down my spine, I still took my sweet, soapy, soaking time. I set myself loose, my length slapping against your ass once it sprang free. You shivered, your back arching like a bow and your hands treading through your tangled hair. You wanted me. I took my time, sandwiching my shaft between your pussy lips, sliding across the slick and even wearing your labia as a hood atop its head for a maddening moment. It was only when you began begging, mewling to be mated that I gave myself to you. I crammed my cock inside of your cunt and went in so deep, I felt your heartbeat as your inner walls collapsed around me.

Sweet. Soapy. Soaking. I fucked you into a fever, your skin as slick as your insides and your mouth leaking as much saliva as your pussy was spilling precum. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking. Soon, it would've been spilling cum. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking. When I did come, however, it was in my fist and not between your lips.

As I opened my eyes, you disappeared. There was nothing there to greet me but the strike of the street lights slashing the darkness across the ceiling. Your sweetness had been replaced with my saltiness. It was indeed soapy and soaking, but it wasn’t you. Then, for the second time that night, I slipped out of bed and snuck into the bathroom.

The day you got cat’s claws into my shirt was the day you sunk your own under my skin. After that day, we shared a secret. I never told Frank about Eddie, but Eddie never told you about what I did in the dark. His glowing green eyes didn’t judge me, but they never let me forget. After you left without a notice, ginning up your internship, changing your phone number and never surrendering your real name, I couldn’t face them anymore. His eyes never let me forget, so I rehomed him.

I found your Gotham U sweatshirt while cleaning out my closet today. The name you gave WayneTech is nowhere to be found in their student records. Your name can’t be found in any police records either. Your real name, however, I am sure will uncover quite the mystery.

Yours,

E. NYGMA

#Edward Nygma #Riddler #Edward Nygma x Reader #Riddler x Reader #It is Not Safe For Work #Riddler x You #Edward Nygma x You

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adventuresofclever · 3 years

Text

CleverMax: SDCC 2021 Masquerade Entry

Comic-Con@Home Masquerade Entry: Adventures of Clever Costume Title: CleverMax - Mr. Clever as a Borderlands boss Costume Description: Recreation of Mr. Clever from the Doctor Who episode Nightmare in Silver, written by Neil Gaiman, done in the style of the video game, Borderlands. Bio: They/He pronouns

Greetings all!

I realized that I never wrote about how I made my CleverMax mashup cosplay, so when SDCC posted about their At Home masquerade, I figured this was the perfect time to do so! Most of you know that I cosplay exclusively as Mr. Clever from Doctor Who, with the random mash up thrown in here and there. I’ve always wanted to be a Borderlands cosplayer, and the following is how I managed to combine the two together.

As always, enjoy the blog and if there are any questions, please feel free to contact me.

Let’s step into the TARDIS and jump back to October 20, 2009, when the first Borderlands game was released. It was my first foray into FPS (First person shooters) and I was hooked from day one. In 2012 they released Borderlands 2 which is, in my not so humble opinion, the best video game ever created. We got some of the most iconic charcters and storylines in that game. Including the best DLC ever, Bunkers and Badasses. And my second favorite villain of all time – Handsome Jack.

Jack’s sass, sarcasm and charm fits well with Mr. Clever’s personality. And in the pre sequel you get to play a version of him called the Dopplegnager. I mean, this pretty much wrote itself.

Handsome Jack from Borderlands 2 and Mr. Clever from Doctor Who

Borderlands cosplayers have aIways left me in a state of awe and admiration. The style of the game is so unique and seeing it recreated in person is nothing short of incredible. I’ve always wanted to figure out a way to be a Borderlands cosplayer. For the past eight years I have only ever cosplayed as Mr. Clever from Doctor Who. In the summer of 2019 I decided that was the perfect time to try to make this happen before NYCC.

When I initially decided to do this, it was going to be more of a mash up between Handsome Jack and Mr. Clever. I had planned on wearing Jack’s basic outfit, but in Clever’s colors with the a few add ons. Namely the bow tie and the cybernetics.

After much research and drafting, I decided against that. I ended up just turning Mr. Clever into a Borderlands boss. Same basic outfit as Mr. Clever/11th Doctor, but cel shaded and with weapons, cause Borderlands.

I made the accessories, chess set, and obviously the working cyberplanner piece itself for my Nightmare in Silver version of Clever, but I have never tackled anything this ambitious. An entire costume from scratch? Not something I thought I could do. Not knowing how to sew and being visually impaired were both challenges that I had to work around.

I started with looking around my house for various items that I thought I could use. I figured if I messed up, might as well mess up on something I hadn’t spent money on yet! I was going to toss a pair of my old paddock boots as they had some rips in the leather. Ripped leather? How very Pandora. They were the first thing I tackled.

Old paddock boots that I refurbished for the cosplay

This was my first time using leather paint and I have to say I am very pleased with the Angelus brand of leather paint. I have worn these in the rain and through puddles, and they have held up 100%.

After the boots were done, I started on the vest. I had an old black vest lying around the house that was sort of the shape and size I wanted. I don’t have a dress form, so I put it on myself, inside out, and used safety pins to make it the size I needed, then hand sewed around the safety pins. Not ideal, but it works.

I had a spare pair of black jeans, button down light blue shirt and a plain bow tie that I just ended up cel shading.

The only item that I really couldn’t figure out was the purple frock coat. Try as I might, I couldn’t find one to modify. So the coat was actually made by my friend Heather Long. I did alter the length after NYCC.

With the clothes themselves all set, for the most part anyay, it was time to paint. This was my first time trying to recreate the art style of Borderlands, often referred to as cel shading. I have a few “art of Borderlands” style books that I poured over before I sat down to attempt this.

Other than the accessories and anything leather, I used the same materials and techniques for each article of clothing. Instead of describing each seprate piece, I’ll just explain what I did to achieve the overall look.

When you look at a Borderlands character on screen, it can be a bit overwhelming. So many colors, and so many nuances of each color. I did my best to visually sift through all that, and try to establish what I thought was the base color.

Once the base color was determined, I just added blotches, blobs, shading, low lights, highlights and other variations of the base color itself throughout each piece. I recommend keeping your fabric wrinkled and using those wrinkle as guidlenes for where the lines and shading would fall naturally.

Once all of that dried, I then went over different sections of the fabric with white and black lines. To get that crisp, almost comic book looking outline of each piece I used black sharpie, and white fabric pens as well as white fabric paint.

When I sat down to do the coat, I wanted something a little different than just cel shading. During a second playthrough of Tales from the Borderlands, I noticed Rhys and other characters had interesting logos and designs on the back of their jackets. I ended up putting a chessboard pattern on the back as a homage to the chess game between the 11th Doctor and Mr. Clever in the episode.

Great shot of the chess board and my Judd Nelson pose

The materials that I used for all of the clothing items were craft paints that I had around the house. Any brand works, but I prefer Americana paints. I then added an additive that you use to make the paint water proof and used various sized brushes. Dry brushes are also very useful if you have them.

Black sharpies of different sizes and any fabric markers are also very helpful. Heat setting is required to make the paint waterpfoof, so if you mess up before you add sharpies, you can wash the clothes and start over.

A few tips if you decide to undertake cel shading clothing: Until now I hadn’t noticed that there aren’t many thing in Borderlands that are true black. Due to the art style most things that appear black are in reality shades of grey, with a grey base colr. This makes it easier to add the lines, shading, and what not. Looking back, I should have bought GREY clothes. It was a ton of work to make the pants look like they were a mixture of greys. And as a result of so many laers of paint, they are stiff, lost their stretch and feel an entire size smaller! So I would recommend grey fabric as a base for black clothing and buy a size larger.

The pants are so stiff that I think they will stand up on their own

This entire process was way more fun than I thought it would be and I’ve since become addicted to cel shading anything I can. I may or may not have started cel shading my guest room.

After the clothing was finished, I started on some accessories and props. The first being the easiet – a wee little cybermite that I cel shaded. My cosplay of Mr. Clever always has a cybermite on my lapel, so I took one of my older ones and repainted it.

You can’t have a Borderlands character without some sort of weapon, so I painted a nerf gun that looks similar to the one that Clara Oswald holds in the episode.

I have never had to carry a gun for my Mr. Clever cosplay before so weapon checks are sort of new to me. I didn’t want to go through that at NYCC so I came up with a clever, no pun intended, way around it.

I took a photo of each side of the gun. Went to Staples and had them printed on heavy cardstock. Then I cut around the guns, glued them together between a piece of cardboard then added some black electical tape around the edges. Viola. Instant weapons check approved gun that is lightweight, and also acts a fan when it gets hot. It was a huge hit at the con. A few security guards were like “ we have to check your…wait..is that flat?” And they proceeded to play with it. I highly recommend doing this!

Gun and its flat counterpart

I am holding the flat gun in this picture from NYCC

In the actual game, you can equip your characters with mods that give them certain abilities and bonuses. In the Pre-Sequel, you can play as a Dopplganger of Handsome Jack so I searched for some of his mods and found one in purple which seemed perfect. I made the mod with cardboard, covered it in craft foam, modge podge to set, and installed led lights. The first time I wore it I put it on my belt which didn’t work. It kept falling off. I eventually put it on my lapel and wore it like Jack does. Unfortunately, someone glomped on me at a con and broke it, so I recently had to remake it all over again.

No Borderlands costume would be complete without cel shading on yourself. This was a huge challenge for me for a few reasons. One, I’m visually impaired so doing line work like this was challenging. Two, I am highly allergic to so many materials and ingrediants that finding a make up brand that I could wear was a trial and error process that ended up with many break outs and rashes before I found the perfect combination.

I used mostly eye liner pencils and liquid eye liner to achieve the look. The Wet n Wild liquid eye liner lasts forever, and is actually difficult to remove, but that is not a bad thing as it stood up to the heat of a very crowded venue.

As for the cel shading itself, I relied on many refernce photos of various characters in the game. I started with the eyebrows first as that seemed to frame the face nicely and give me a nice mischvieous look. I then just outlined the bones of my face, adding some random lines here and there. It never looks the same way twice, but that’s ok. Playing with different angles, lines, shading etc is half the fun!

The only real challenge were my hands. The make up didn’t last that long on my hands so I had to touch it up throughout the con. I also eventually started to use band aids that I cel sahded to cover up a tattoo on my inner wrist.

Figuring what to do with my hair is an on going process that I still haven’t 100% mastered. I opted to not use a foam wig as I have over heating issues on a cool day let alone trying to wear one if it gets warmer. I have had adverse reactions to craft foam in the past, so I don’t want it touching my skin, and lastly, I think a wig AND a facial prosthetic would be too much for me. So I decided to just cel shade my hair.

This takes forever to do, and I’m still figuring out better techniques every time I wear it.

I have a really great brand of colored gel, called Mofajang which I apply with a baster brush that you would find in the kitchen gadgets aisle. I also use a clean mascara brush to add some finer lines here and there. Set with way more hair spray than I ever used in the 80’s and it becomes fairly waterproof.

I have learned that due to how hard the make up and hair color is to remove, I really need to wear this on the LAST day of a con. I made the mistake of wearing it on day one of Long Island Who one year, and spent hours scrubbing my skin and hair for the next day. Far better to just leave the con with a tad bit of left over cel shading. Which makes it very interesting when you stop at a roadside bathroom on the trip home.

With the entire costume done it was time to work on the actual cyberplanner appliance.

Next time I make a variation of Clever, I will make this FIRST. Making these pieces is the bane of my existence – I love wearing them, hate making them. It’s a long process.

I am allergic to latex, silocone, scuply, most clays, and so many other things that seem to be every cosplayers go-to. When I made my first cyber piece back in late 2013, I spent weeks trying to find a substance that would keep attached to my face all day without causing a rash. Like an alchemist in a fantasy novel, I submerged myself into creating the perfect concoction. It took 22 days to finish the final product.

I admit that I rushed a bit on the Borderlands one. As a result, it doesn’t quite fit as well as my others, and is a bit heavier than I expected. I only added two working lights, instead of the usual four, to hopefully balance the piece out. It lasted through two full days of a con, despite the heat of a crowded venue, but I did end up tweaking it a bit after. Even with the tweaks, it still doesn’t fit as well as I would like. It is too heavy and brings down the entire left side of my face, making it difficult to keep my eye open at times. I really need to sit down and force myself to make a new one.

There are a few more things that I would like to add to this costume eventually. Like a belt of grenades, and maybe another gun. But aside from that, I am incredibly pleased with how this costume turned out. It is by far, my favorite Clever variation that I have done.

I hope this post gives you the inspiration to go off and cel shade something, and possibly even play some Borderlands!

#doctorwho #misterclever #mrclever #nightmareinsilver #cosplay #borderlands cosplay #doctor who cosplay #comic-con #comic-conathome #comic-conathome2021 #comic-conathomemasquerêde #cyberplanner #borderlands

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atmostories · 3 years

Note

Congrats on NaNo!!! More Greg please 🥺

This is the continuation of my previous Greg Tolan x Reader which was also requested by my dearest Anons, and the inspiring @suis0u x Tags: Rape/Non Con, Female!Reader, BDSM, Injury, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Greg Tolan x Female!Reader You couldn't. . .you couldn't believe what he did to you. It had been almost a week and you were still in a state of disbelief, not quite accepting what happened. It didn't seem real. But the bruises on your arm were proof enough. They were still on your skin, though they were almost faded now. The bruises had turned blue and purple at first and you were almost in awe of the way the colours kept changing day by day. There were hues of green and yellow too.

You were so fucked in the head. If all that wasn't enough, you started dreaming about him too. Every night. He'd make you come over and over and you'd beg him to stop but he'd just keep going, no matter how much it hurt. The pain made the pleasure more intense. You avoided him at all costs like your life depended on it, and in a way it did. To prevent running into him in the corridor, you kept being late for class. Two days ago, he almost hunted you down in the library. For once your luck held true and a librarian accosted him, giving you time to slip out through the back. Your heart was pounding from the close call, your body shook from the adrenaline. Last semester, you spotted some seniors meet under the bleachers to hang out, the entrance was concealed so you had to move a panel out of the way and crawl through. Those seniors had graduated though, and you hadn't seen anyone else discover their secret hideout, so you figured it would be a safe bet. After eating your packed lunch, you were sitting on the ground with your knees against your chest, smoking a joint. There was graffiti everywhere under the bleachers, initials and dates and phone numbers and badly drawn faces of teachers which you still recognised. Maybe next time you were here you could bring a marker and add to the collection. You took another long drag. What were you going to do tomorrow? You had to skip biology, there wasn't a choice, you couldn't sit next to him again, not after. . . Placing your head on your knees and closing your eyes, you tried to ignore the ache in between your legs. The mere thought of him was making you wet. What the fuck was wrong with you? He'd hurt you, he'd grabbed your wrist and marked you with bruises. He wouldn't let you go. He pinched and twisted at your skin, forcing you to look at him while tears streamed down your face and then all he did was squeeze your cunt and you came. How did that even happen? How the fuck did that even- The joint fell onto the ground, dammit. Letting out a sigh, you started to look for it, but all you could see was a pair of sneakers, his sneakers. No, no, no, no. You glanced up in horror and took in the sight of him casually smoking your joint like it had always belonged to him. Scrambling to your feet, you were about to flee in the opposite direction, but two words had you frozen to the spot. “Sit down,” he told you. Without any conscious thought, you did exactly as he said and sat how you were before, knees drawn up to your chest. Your mind was blank. Before he spoke, you had been panicking, desperate to run, frantic to get away, but now. . .you were just staring at him. Greg took another drag of the joint before flicking it off to the side. He knelt down in front of you and wrapped his arms around your knees. Even though you were wearing jeans you could feel how warm his skin was. You tried not to shift away from him, he was too close. “Have you enjoyed this little game you've been playing?” He asked, tilting his head at you. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What was he talking about? What did he- “See before you were at least trying not to make it so obvious how much you wanted me all to yourself, hiding in the library, making sure there were witnesses. But now?” He chuckled, flashing his teeth. You shook your head, not understanding what he was saying. “Of all the places to hide, you had to pick the only place where no one was going to disturb us at all?” “No. No, no-” “Don't even try to deny it. I've seen the way you look at me,” he murmured, your heart aching at his words. How did he know? He wasn't meant to notice, he wasn't ever meant to see. Though your cheeks were burning with shame, you couldn't look away from him. “You really shouldn't lie to yourself,” he chided softly, one of his gloved hands started to slip down the back of your thigh. His hand got lower and lower, you were about to panic when he worked his way up to the back of your knee. “But don't worry, I know exactly what you want. Lie back.” What. . .what was he gonna do? Why couldn't you move? Why weren't you trying to get away from him? It was like he had transfixed you. He had rooted you to the spot and you could only move if he explicitly gave you permission to. He pushed against your shoulder, urging you to comply. You laid your back onto the ground, clenching your thighs together. Greg reached around your legs and started unbuttoning your jeans. Without any consideration of the consequences, you began to squirm away from him, your hands latching onto his to push him off. As you tried to kick out your legs, he wrapped an arm tight around your ankles and dragged you closer to him. Placing your feet on his lap, he pulled something out of his jacket pocket. Oh fuck, oh fuck, was that a cable tie? This wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening. No matter how hard you tried to break free, he easily held onto your ankles and secured the cable tie around them. When he looked at you, the expression on his face made you freeze in place. He was. . .inconvenienced. There was something about how his lips were gently pressed together, how one of his eyebrows was raised. He was completely unbothered your attempts to break free, he didn't even look mildly irritated. You did not register as a concern to him. Blood rushed to your ears. He was going to do whatever he wanted. Nothing you did was ever going to change that. He had a cable tie secured around your wrists before you realised what was happening. Gripping onto both of your shoulders, he manoeuvred you down onto your back, but this time you didn't resist. You blankly stared at him as he finished off unbuttoning and unzipping your jeans, his movements delayed and almost teasing. He pushed your knees over to the ground so you were laying on your side. Something changed in his eyes, it was like they had darkened somehow. That was when he pulled down your jeans and underwear, he didn't take them off completely, only far enough to expose your ass. You awkwardly clung onto the front of your jeans, desperately hoping he wouldn't take them off completely. He started to run his gloved hand over your bare skin, either distracted or nonchalant to what you were doing. It wasn't like it was going to make a difference. “You shouldn't have run from me,” he told you gently, pulling back his hand before spanking you on the ass. You held back a grunt. The noise from the impact was loud, it almost hurt your ears. He smacked you again, harder this time, and then gave you a third spank in quick succession. The initial pain was immediately followed by a stinging sensation which dissipated outwards across your skin. You managed to be silent again, you tensed every time his hand left you. By the fourth and fifth spank, groans escaped your mouth. He seemed pleased by the noises you were making, and began to gently knead your ass, as if in reward. The way his fingers dug into you felt so good compared to how he was hurting you just a moment ago. You almost gasped when you realised how wet you were. Fuck, fuck- Another hard spank had you focusing back on the pain. You clenched your thighs together, your hands were straining against the cable tie as you tried to keep your jeans from slipping down any further. He then began to spank you in a unrelenting and constant rhythm without any respite. There was barely a second between each one. He wouldn't let up. You were getting light-headed. Your body shook from every impact and the sensation had your clit throbbing. The continual barrage of pain was making it harder to differentiate between each spank. It was becoming an intense blur of agony. You thought he had hurt you last week, but this? This. . . You kept crying out in pain. He kept going. He concentrated on the exact same spot on your ass, like he was trying to imprint his hand into your skin. Everything was getting hazy. From the constant noise you were making, you couldn't take in a proper breath. He wouldn't give you a chance. It felt like. . .it felt like you were gonna. . . “Breathe, little tulip, breathe,” he murmured, his fingers were under your chin, tilting your head back. “Come on, take a deep breath.” You blinked several times, trying to focus on his face. “Deep breath. That's it. And another one. Good. That's good. Keep going.” You must have been doing what he said, he only praised you when you obeyed. Why did it sound so fucking good whenever he was nice to you? His thumb carefully brushed away a tear on your face. It was less confusing when he just hurt you. You were almost laying in the foetal position, you wanted to bring your knees up to your chest and pray that you were going to wake up. But this wasn't a dream. Things were starting to get clearer again. Your ass was burning, your fingers hurt. How hard had you been clutching on your jeans? He must have noticed that you'd recovered enough because his hand moved back down, he was going to hurt you again. Your body jolted when his finger gently traced over your ass. He let out a soft laugh, his bright eyes examining your expression before he looked over the damage he'd inflicted. As he began to take off his gloves, your gut writhed in panic, this wasn't over, this wasn't over. You clenched your eyes shut, trying to brace yourself. Fuck this was going to hurt, it was going to hurt so bad. When you felt his knuckle run along your inner thigh, you gasped. Your eyes flew open, you stared at him mindlessly. Your body was starting to shake but it wasn't from fear, it was from arousal. “I can't believe how wet you are,” he almost whispered, pride tinged at his words. The ache in between your legs was agonising. You let out a whine as he brought his hand to his mouth and enveloped his lips over his wet knuckle. “Mmm, fuck. This is all for me, huh?” He braced an elbow on your legs and began to slowly lower himself down, his mouth parting open, his tongue resting on his bottom lip. Understanding what he was about to do, you frantically kicked out, and tried to get away from him, but he held you steady. His bare hand grabbed onto your ass, spreading your cheeks. The moan you let out when his tongue dipped inside of you was half a strangled cry. He pulled away, eyeing you with fascination as your body continued to tremble. You were so close, you were so fucking- “Come for me,” he ordered softly, before his mouth began to suck on your clit. You screamed as the pleasure spiralled out of control, your head lifting off the ground before slamming back down. His tongue kept playing with your clit, even as you naturally bucked away from him. A few moments later he finally relented and lifted his head up. You took in his wet mouth incredulously, your cunt aching from the aftermath. Your body was shaking, tears started to stream down your face as you felt a sob bubble up your throat. When he sat back on his heels and pulled you onto his lap, you began to cry, unable to control the outburst of emotion after coming so hard. He hushed you gently, his arms wrapping around you. You had always been so scared of how strong he was, but now you appreciated it. If he wasn't holding you so tightly, you'd probably fall apart. One of his hands rested against the back of your head, his fingers rubbing against your hair. “My little tulip did so well,” he praised you, making you cry a little bit more. It took a few minutes to stop. That was when his arms moved away from you. Rather than shift you off him as expected, he took of that necklace he always wore. He threaded it through the gap between the cable tie and your wrist, then moved the necklace back and forth until the cable tie broke. He did the same with the cable tie on your ankle. He looked over the marks on your wrists before pulling up your sleeve and seeing the faded bruises on your arm. Your eyebrows furrowed as he kissed each bruise. The expression on his face was different, you couldn't quite make it out. Your confusion deepened when he put his necklace on you and pressed his lips against your forehead. The smile on his face when he pulled away was almost nervous.

#greg tolan #greg tolan x reader #just one of the guys #william zabka #atmo-x #yall so thirsty for greg #i hope this whets your appetite

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chrwrites · 4 years

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SOFTober day 25: Care

TW: Minor injury, mention of blood and knives (I promise it’s not what it looks like this isn’t for the ANGSTober prompts)

The cold air caressing your skin that makes the golden rays of sun hitting your face feel warmer. Trees dressing in different shades of red and yellow. The sound of the leaves crunching under your feet as you walk. Rainy days where you can just stay at home under the comfort of a blanket while you enjoy a cup of tea. The smell of spices in the streets, warm cinnamon to give you the energy to get through the day, and nutmeg comforting you on the way home. Sweet pumpkins become the most used ingredient in all your favourite meals.

Isn’t October the most beautiful month?

At least, October is Luka’s favourite month. He just loves the atmosphere around him during this month. It’s warm and comforting, and it makes him reminisce about the summer that has just passed, inspiring new songs.

October is beautiful even when it ends, giving people the chance to get together, have fun, and try new things. This year, the new thing to try is pumpkin carving.

Luka finds his bandmates already working on their pumpkins when he walks below deck, taking his headphones off to greet everyone and only then he notices that Marinette is there too. He smiles at her, and she raises her hand to wave it at him quickly before going back to focus on the pumpkin she is drawing on with a marker. Her tongue is sticking out between her lips and her brows are furrowed in concentration and she looks as pretty as ever.

Juleka distracts him from that vision handing him his own orange vegetable to work on and making him sit right across from Marinette. She’s too focused on her work to notice the way he’s looking at her, and Luka takes a deep breath before starting to work on his pumpkin. This should be funnier than thinking about how much he likes Marinette, anyway.

Taking the seeds out of the pumpkin was the easy part, but he doesn't struggle as much as he expected when drawing on the uneven surface of the vegetable the typical design Jack O'Lanterns have, he just has to be more careful in the actual carving of the thing now.

And he's doing good, really, he’s doing good despite his work going slower than the others because he has arrived late in the first place, and also because he gets lost pretty easily in admiring the way Marinette brushes her midnight fringe away from her eyes as she works, and how she looks indecisive when she has to choose which knife to use next. Do you really need to use different knives?

He watches her capable hands move on the surface of the pumpkin, almost as if she was actually sculpting something. She looks so absorbed in what she’s doing that Luka can’t help but notice how relaxed she looks, wishing for her to always look so happy and relaxed.

He smiles to himself and goes back to work on his own pumpkin until he decides it’s better to peek at her again, there’s a satisfied expression on her face, and then someone says something that makes her laugh and, like a sailor entranced by a siren, Luka watches her red lips curl to reveal her teeth and crinkles form at the side of her eyes. The blue eyes that– “Ah!” his thoughts are interrupted by a sudden pain on his hand, and he curses himself as he notices that his palm is bleeding. Great.

He quickly reaches for the rack that’s lying next to him on the table to cover his wound, jerking away from the table and looking at the cause of his pain. The knife is stuck in his pumpkin, looking as harmless as a knife can look.

“Luka?”, Marinette calls, there’s worry in her voice as she rushes to him.

“It’s nothing”, he tries to brush it off, and winces when Marinette takes his hand and removes the rack to inspect his wound. The warm feeling of her hand on his makes him forget of the sting he feels in his hand for a moment.

“Come on, I’ll take care of it”, Marinette grabs his good hand and lets him lead her to the bathroom where they can find a first aid kit.

“You don’t have to do this, you know… I can take care of it by myself”, Luka says, the tone in his voice low as he opens a cabinet and tries to take the big white box containing what he needs to bandage his wound with one hand, but Marinette pulls herself on her tiptoes to grab it herself and moves to his side.

She sits on the edge of the bathtub, a teasing smile on her face as she sets the box open on the wooden laundry box next to her and tilts her head, looking at him, “Tell me again how you can do this by yourself?”.

Luka gulps, taking a deep breath to steady himself. When did the room become so hot?

Marinette pats the empty spot next to her, it reminds him of how he did it the first time they met years before, and he slowly walks to her.

“You always take care of everyone, let me take care of you for once”, Marinette says as she takes his hand. Between her words and her gentle touch, he doesn’t know what causes his heart to flutter and his cheeks to feel warm. It’s probably both.

He bites his lower lip, his gaze dropping on his knees as she starts cleaning the wound with some antiseptic.

“You should have been more careful”, she speaks softly, and tries to contain the giggle that threatens to escape from her lips when she notices Luka wincing.

“I... got distracted”, is all he manages to say to justify himself. By you .

Marinette shots her head up to give him a reprimanding look, “I thought you knew better than distracting yourself when handling knives”, she says, and when Luka grimaces as the cotton ball soaked with antiseptic makes his wound burn, Marinette doesn’t bother to restrain her chuckle, “Come on, big boy, it’s not that bad”.

Luka sighs, she doesn’t have the right to mock him when she’s the reason he got hurt in the first place. It’s already bad enough: he can’t play his guitar, her being this close to him is making him feel breathless, and he can’t stop staring at her as she taps gingerly on his wound to make sure it won’t get infected.

“This is your fault”, Luka breaths out, making Marinette’s head jerk up to look at him with a frown, “You... You’ve distracted me”, he continues.

He feels Marinette’s hand twitch on his, and he immediately regrets his words.

Marinette’s cheeks turn red, and in an attempt to not make him notice it, she lowers her head to focus her attention back on his wound. Her raven hair falling from her shoulders help her covering her cheeks. The room is silent as Marinette lets go of his hand to grab a bandage, and Luka is cold until she is back holding his hand and wraps it delicately with the gauge, asking if it’s too tight before tying it.

“It’s alright”, Luka says, his voice coming out a bit croaky makes him clear his throat.

“Good”, Marinette answers, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her hand doesn’t leave his, and after a few moments she raises her head to finally look at him in the eyes.

There still is some pink on her cheeks, and from this close Luka can see the pretty freckles on her nose. It makes him think that he wouldn’t mind getting hurt if that allows him to have her this close and take care of him. Marinette’s fingers brush over the gauge in an attempt to soothe his pain and a new kind of warmth makes its way in her heart, the feelings she has fought for so long dancing in her stomach. She inhales a deep breath, trying to steady herself and ignore how dizzy she’s feeling.

Luka is looking at her, there’s sorry in his eyes as he speaks, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable”.

“You could never do that”, Marinette says promptly, taking both of his hands into hers and holding them closer to reassure him, “I- I didn’t expect that, is all”.

Luka nods, but doesn’t dare to say anything, he just squeezes her hands. They keep looking at each other, memorizing each other’s features until something clicks in Marinette, and she gets up quickly with the excuse to put the emergency kit away. Her hands are trembling as she does that, and Luka is puzzled when he looks at her.

When Marinette turns to him, her posture is stiff, but she doesn’t hesitate to hold out her hand to Luka, “We should go”, she says reluctantly.

It makes him take her hand and get up, but instead of walking out of the bathroom with her, he pulls Marinette to him. Her chest collides with his and he isn't able to look at the confused frown on her face because as soon as she looks up at him he's pressing his lips to hers.

It takes him more than a second to realize what he is doing, and just as he is about to pull away and apologize for his sudden gesture and for being an idiot, he feels Marinette’s hands wrap around his neck. She is kissing him back, and it’s making fireworks explode in Luka’s chest. His skin is tingling as he lets himself go under her touch and Marinette guides him into the slow kiss. It’s gentle like she has been with him, and there is so much care and love in it that he hopes that as soon as his hand reaches her waist to pull her closer she feels the same care he has for her. And when he thumbs her cheek with the hand she has just taken care of he hopes to let her know how he feels about her, and how grateful he feels to have her in his arms. He’s putting all the things he wished to say to her in that kiss, all the love and admiration he has for her, and how she makes him feel everytimes he smiles. It's sweet and delicate and gentle, and it makes Luka forget about him being an idiot as they both get lost into a blissful oblivion.

It’s Marinette who breaks the kiss, Luka’s eyes are still close as he lets out a soft sigh that would probably embarrass him had he been in a different situation, but he doesn’t care. All he cares now are Marinette’s soft lips, and he chases them, too eager to feel them on his again.

It makes Marinette chuckle as she puts some distance between them, her face is still inches from his, but that makes him open his eyes. Marinette’s pretty blue eyes are shining brighter under the lights, and there’s a teasing smile gracing her red lips, how beautiful. And he has actually kissed her. On the lips. And it was better than he has ever imagined. Wow. I kissed Marinette.

Her voice shakes him from his dazed state, Marinette is grinning widely and it makes him want to kiss her again, “Hey, if you wanted me to kiss you better, all you had to do was ask”.

#lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette fic #softober #ml

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theworldinclines · 3 years

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Title: red hearts Pairing: Teh/Oh-Aew, but mostly an Oh-Aew-centered story Summary: Based on head-canons regarding Oh-Aew's relationship with gender, Teh, and life in general. Ao3 link

Oh-Aew closes in on himself. He doesn’t mean for it when it happens; it’s just the way he’s been for as far back as his memory can tell. Simply, he wants to take up less space than he does.

He once came across a turtle living near the resort, a baby nearly the size of Oh-Aew’s childish fists put together; in a flash had adopted the abandoned creature into his family. The turtle disappeared within two days and Oh-Aew may have been young, but the sight of the nest he’d put together all torn didn’t leave much to the imagination as to what happened.

He fell back from his knees onto his bottom, hugging himself while tears welled hot in his eyes. He swiped slim wrists across his cheeks and paid no mind to the sand that stung them in turn. Oh-Aew didn’t move from his vigil for an hour, not until his mother came searching for their lunch-time, and she simply put an arm around her son to let him cry.

He loved his island because it was a safe bubble in which to spend his days, but to lose the turtle he’d wanted to care for was another moment to remind Oh-Aew how fleeting everything really is.

He had a crush on a girl, not long after that afternoon. She had an adorable haircut, curls that didn’t quite reach her shoulders, and they even shared a favourite colour. He admired everything about her, from her patterned skirts to the hearts that she’d drawn onto her sneakers with red marker.

The pair have so much in common they might as well have been friends forever, so he doesn’t feel weird asking to try on her sneakers. When she says that her checkered bottoms would look cute with them, he eagerly accepts. They’re a little shorter than those he’s used to, but he likes the way he looks in them regardless. And the shoes are so lovely he’s tempted in that second to ask his parents for white sneakers just so he can decorate them with hearts to match hers.

But his crush leaves the island at the close of her holiday, and with her takes all the clothes Oh-Aew is going to miss, for a reason he doesn’t fully understand yet.

(Looking back, he’d recognise that he didn’t have a romantic crush as much as he had a friendly one — he wanted to be like her more than he wanted to be with her.)

When his mother takes him shopping next, Oh-Aew’s attention deviates in the small shop to the section meant for girls, and he asks why he can’t get a pair of shorts from over there, they’re comfortable and cute. She glances at the clothing then at Oh-Aew, but instead of saying anything she just puts her arm around him and guides him away.

Oh-Aew had a problem with permanence, really. Growing up on the island meant homeschooling; homeschooling meant that the only kids he could play with were those like his crush. They stopped by on holiday, thus amounting to friendships that were all too brief to be anything substantial.

In a world where the most permanent aspect of life is impermanence, Oh-Aew wanted to find something to be the one constant he could rely on. If he could have nothing else for sure, to take up space by having at least one thing would be nice.

In entering junior high on the mainland, Teh became that for Oh-Aew. Because Oh-Aew mentioned it once, Teh would go out of his way to prepare Oh-Aew’s preferred meal of rice vermicelli; all the other boys would eat just about anything put in front of them in seconds flat and Oh-Aew would have expected Teh to make fun of him for being so picky, but he never did.

Oh-Aew is the one Teh treated differently, in a good way. He wanted Oh-Aew around; no holiday to end their friendship, no strings. And as they spent more of their days together Oh-Aew came to depend on those hours as something important, special.

He was certain Teh was on the same page until the night he accused Oh-Aew of being a snake in the grass, an incident which sent Oh-Aew right back to square one. Nothing gold can stay, and all that.

In the beginning of their rekindled relationship Oh-Aew felt that maybe things would work out. Those laughter-filled few weeks were as magical as anything he’d ever experienced, a dream come true in nearly every aspect. The only niggling issue was the way Oh-Aew’s hope diminished a bit more with each day that brought him closer to leaving Phuket.

Change is inevitable, losing people to that change is as natural a part of life as birth and death. Sometimes he isn’t even sure that he knows who he is now, so it can’t be possible that he’ll be the same person in Bangkok; besides, the person he is has only ever lived on this resort and has spent three days at most out of town.

Whoever he will be at uni is someone unknown to Oh-Aew, and although Teh doesn’t seem half as conscious of it as Oh-Aew always is, they’re in the same terrifyingly unsteady boat. What if they change too much and no longer recognise each other? What if, all but strangers, they have no choice but to break instead of bend? Here in their familiar home it’s Teh and Oh-Aew, Oh-Aew and Teh, the package deal.

But Bangkok doesn’t know that. It won’t care, either; not like the warm seawater does when it splashes over their legs, not like the cashier at the convenience store does when she laughs at Teh’s embarrassed indecision. That night on the shore, Teh had insisted that the future would only bring better things, and Oh-Aew wanted badly to believe him.

Not too long into the future Teh had anticipated, Oh-Aew sees clearly that Bangkok doesn’t care for them, as it turns out. He can tell first-hand as he and Teh drift apart. If Phuket was the persistent but unhurried tide tossing them always into each other’s arm, this city is a tidal wave hurling them further and further into opposite, murky waters.

More than one occasion finds Oh-Aew curled in on himself as he tries to sort through muddled feelings about his supposed path in life; the recurring dreams he’s had since the night he’d stolen a bra from his mother (from even earlier than then, if he’s being honest); the fear that too much change will send Teh running. He pictures Teh taking off in the shoes Oh-Aew had bought, the small red heart patched onto each sneaker’s toe like a sign of… something.

He holds his knees to his chest, or he wraps his arms tight around his chest and tries to compress his body into nothing more than an imploded star lightyears away so he doesn’t have to think about any of it anymore. Teh is supposed to be his constant, but Oh-Aew can’t shake his paradoxical worry that he will lose Teh for that very reason. He wants Oh-Aew and won’t leave, for now. He’s permanent, for now.

Nearly two anniversaries have been celebrated after so much time wasted and his love for Teh has never wavered in his heart, but neither has that incessant worry. Some nights, Oh-Aew is more convinced than anything that his constant isn’t Teh. It’s fear.

Be more manly. I want you to be like a man.

His mother isn’t here now to put a comforting arm around him, or even to pull him away from the things Oh-Aew can’t help feeling drawn toward.

That director had taken a cursory look at Oh-Aew and established his identity in seconds flat, despite that Oh-Aew is only half sure of who he is at any given moment. To that stranger he met for a few minutes a month ago, Oh-Aew will always be the kid too gay to even pretend to like girls, someone with too delicate a voice and movements too soft to belong to any real man.

He’s still the kid who cried over a turtle he had for a day and wanted to put on a bra to prove something to himself and to the boy he felt so much for. He is, isn’t he?

Oh-Aew doesn’t have sisters, therefore had no access to makeup or that sort of stuff easily growing up. He slowed in passing a boutique on one of his first days in Bangkok, mesmerised by the rows upon rows of products he couldn’t begin to name. For a split second, Oh-Aew imagines walking in to find the lipstick he’d seen on a billboard; it was a brilliant red, shimmering as red as an apple, and he takes a step.

Stops — thinks how much more difficult it would be to find friends if he’s labeled ‘the boy who shops for makeup.’ He keeps walking and the loss is eased by the appearance of the infamous sneakers that same afternoon. A sign, all right.

So when he spots the nail polish on Q’s bathroom counter one study get-together, he hesitates. There are three bottles lined up there; the cobalt shade Q likes so much, yellow to match Minnie Mouse’s heels, and a red that Oh-Aew is reaching for before he can think about it. If Q can wear makeup and tinted chapstick, Oh-Aew can certainly put on nail polish too.

Nobody in the group questions why Oh-Aew wanders back in, trance-like, with the polish. Plug just smiles widely and suggests a nail-painting party, which Maengpong encourages in wholehearted agreement. He just wants to get out of studying, of course, and in his and Plug’s case this will surely end up with more polish on each other’s arms than anywhere near their nails, but it’s still a nice gesture.

Oh-Aew coats the fingers of his left hand, slightly shaky without practice, but it doesn’t look too bad. He pauses when he has to switch, though, and Q spots his friend’s pursed lips as soon as they appear. He gives a soft grin, taking the tiny brush to help.

The night ends with Oh-Aew’s fingertips beautifully red, Teh’s motorbike no match to the shine of Oh-Aew’s nails. He lifts his gaze from his hands to meet Q’s crinkled, non-judgmental eyes, and Oh-Aew smiles.

Fear is his constant, but it’s also true that Oh-Aew’s locked himself into having only one out of the certainty that he realistically could have none.

He wants to try taking more for himself. More space, more to hold onto, all of it.

His subconscious attempts had been halted that day when he was just a kid, picked back up when he found the sneakers at the mall; they’ve continued with his move out of communications and into a field in which he knows he can just be himself. No pretending. No acting. He’ll have painted nails and won’t be told to be more of a man, because that isn’t who he is and it never has been.

He was born for the role he has: being himself, as he finds him. And the show’s not even started yet.

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ghosttotheparty · 3 years

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while the world ends around us (make believe with me)

3. I’m to making shift for shaping a life AO3

It’s like it’s the same day all over again when he wakes up. The same gentle whir of his fan, the same blankets covering his body, the same cracks in the ceiling above his bed that look like shitty, knockoff constellations. The same cup next to his bed, half-empty, as always, the same guitar, in the same position, in the same spot in its stand against next to his bed. The same four walls, staring down at him as if in judgement.

What’s different today is the quiet patter of rain, tapping against his window, asking to be invited in.

It’s a welcome noise.

Peaceful.

He almost wants to open the window, let the rain in, let it wash over him, let it wet his hair and get caught in his eyelashes, let it run down his face like tears. But he doesn’t. He sits up, looking across the small room, and watches drops race down the glass. It’s a little bit dark out, the sun blocked by clouds, and he expects to see bright reflections of light in the drops, but he doesn’t. He almost wants to close his eyes, lay his head against the wall behind him, and just listen to the rain, but he doesn’t get the chance.

There’s a knock at his door, and he calls out a gentle “Come in,” as he tugs at the blanket, moving it on the bed so the end of it is pulled up in front of him.

The door opens and Lotte walks in, wearing pink pyjamas, cradling a stuffed bear to her chest, and the door swings shut behind her, thudding loudly, but she doesn’t react to it. She just looks at Jens, holding her bear, the bottom of her oversized pyjama pants pooled around her feet, the ends of her sleeves bunched around her hands. She looks smaller than she usually does. Her eyes are soft, gazing at him across the room, until he cocks his head, beckoning.

As she climbs onto the bed, he pulls the blanket off his lap, shifting and lifting his back from the wall enough to swing the blanket around his shoulders, gripping in his fists and wrapping it around himself as Lotte crawls into his lap, her back against his chest. He wraps his arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder and she lays her head on his, sighing.

Jens moves down on the wall slightly, tightening his arms around her, and she turns so she’s sitting sideways in his lap, laying against his chest. Her arms are wrapped around the bear, her chin nestled on the top of its fuzzy head, and Jens runs one of his hands through her hair, gently combing through tangles and knots.

“I miss Daddy,” she says softly after a few quiet minutes.

Jens sighs, removing his hand from her hair, and leans down, kissing the top of her head gently. He sees that her eyes are closed, and a part of him hopes she’ll fall asleep like this.

“Me too.”

“Why can’t we go see him?” Her voice is small, like she’s hoping she’ll get a different answer than she got last time.

“People are getting sick, Lotte.” He runs a hand over her hair and lays his head against the wall, his eyes on the window. “We have to stay home so fewer people get sick.”

“I haven’t gotten sick.”

“I know. But some people get sick easier than other people. We just have to try to keep them safe.”

He watches the rain race down the window, listens to it against the glass and the roof, and he listens to Lotte breathing, her soft, quiet breaths that form a rhythm that he follows without thinking about it.

“When will we see him again?”

Jens doesn’t know how to answer. He has no idea how long this will last, this lockdown, this confinement. Their father is only a few blocks away, is only a few streets down from where they are right now, probably sitting at his dining table with his laptop in front of him, working. Maybe he’s wondering the same thing.

“Eventually.”

She does fall asleep on him, still clutching her bear, but one of Jens’s hands ends up between the soft fuzz and her small hand, her fingers wrapped around one of his. He feels her grip loosen when she drifts off, but he doesn’t move.

---

He’s always known that the apartment is small.

The kitchen is tiny, a counter around a small room, old cabinets that shut too loudly, a leaky faucet that drips into a metal sink, a circular dinner table pushed into the corner of the room. (Lotte likes to crawl under it and sit in the corner.) The door opens directly into the thin hallway, and just a step down it is the living room, with a small sofa and coffee table, usually covered in scattered paper and markers, pillows strewn across the floor. (When Jens hangs out with Lotte, he usually sits or kneels on one next to her.) All three bedrooms are the same size.

Jens often feels like he’s trapped in a box lined with fairy lights. He has to squeeze between his bed and the closet in the wall to slide it open. He has to either slip between his bed and dresser or climb over his bed to make it to his window. He only has to take two steps to get from the door to bed. He’s always wanted a desk, but there’s never been enough space anywhere in the apartment to put one. (And barely enough spare money to get one.) Lotte’s room feels bigger, but only because her bed is smaller. She has space to play on the floor, and when Jens sits with her, his back against the wall, there’s just enough space to stretch his legs out in front of him.

This is where they sit while they draw together. Or rather, while Lotte draws and Jens makes a half attempt before giving up.

It’s also where Lotte falls asleep a few days later, as she draws and Jens scrolls on his phone. It’s early in the morning, and Jens suspects Lotte stayed up until their mom got home last night, smiling softly and shaking his head as her eyes flutter shut for a second before she opens them, blinking blearily and picking up the pencil that had slipped from her fingers.

“Tired?” he asks, and she shakes her head, contradicting herself by yawning.

“No,” she says lightly, and leans down to the floor, looking closer at her drawing. Jens looks at his phone, checking the time.

“Do you want to take a nap?” Jens asks after a second. He has a few minutes before he needs to log in to a class. It’s one of the only teachers that require him to join the video call. And his least favourite, because she also requires them to leave their cameras on.

Lotte pauses, looking up at him without lifting her head.

“Yes,” she says finally, and drops the pencil, turning on the floor and climbing up onto the bed. Jens picks up the sketchbook and pencils as she snuggles into her pillow, clutching a stuffed animal to her chest and looking up at him. Her curtains are already pulled shut, the soft sunlight shining through them and washing the small room in pink. He pulls up her blankets and tucks them under her chin, making her giggle.

“I have a class,” he says. “You know when to get me right?”

“Only if I’m hurt or if I’m scared.”

“Good girl,” he says, and bends down, brushing her hair out of her face and kissing her forehead lightly.

She already looks asleep by the time he shuts her door behind himself.

It’s even quieter without the sound of her pencil on paper.

Jens closes his bedroom door with a quiet click, and finds his laptop under his bedside table before tossing it lightly onto his bed and hopping up, bouncing as he lands criss-cross.

He also turns the camera off before he joins the class’ video chat but leaves it on at the last second, shooting a look at himself and ruffling his hair, huffing.

“And there’s Jens!” Ms Peeters says a second after he joins, and he drops his phone, looking up and smiling lightly. She’s one of his favourite teachers. She’s one of everyone’s teachers, honestly, always enthusiastic and considerate. She could be their grandma. “So nice to see your lovely smile, good morning. And Mila, hello!”

“Victor, did you cut your hair?” she asks as more people flood the meeting, looking delighted. There’s a pause as Victor turns on his microphone.

“Uh, yeah, my mom did it.” He doesn’t look happy, and Jens stifles a laugh, seeing how messy and short his hair is now, a contrast from the shoulder-length locks Jens is used to.

“Well you look very handsome,” Ms Peeters says in response and Victor smiles. “We’re waiting on one more student…” She tilts her head up and looks closely at the screen in front of her through her glasses. “But he might still be figuring it out, we can go on and start without him. Who wants to quickly go through what we did last class?”

It’s quiet and Jens pulls his notebook closer, looking at his messy notes.

“Uhm…” a girl’s voice says finally, her audio garbled, sounding like she’s standing down a long tunnel. “We were going over different forms of poems and we stopped when we finished talking about sonnets.”

“Yes, and?”

“And you asked us to find a sonnet online and summarise what it’s about and the rhyme scheme, and to write a haiku.”

“That’s right,” Ms Peeters says. “And if I remember correctly, almost all of you turned it in. If you didn’t, you know who you are, please get it in by this afternoon.” (Jens turned it in late last night. Almost everything he turns in now gets turned in late at night.) “So, if you looked at today’s lesson plan…”

As she speaks, Jens’s screen rearranges itself, squares of students jumping across the screen as another square appears. The student’s camera isn’t on, so all Jens sees is an L in a circle.

“...you would have seen that we’re— Oh! There he is!” Ms Peeters exclaims. “Lucas, if you wouldn’t mind turning your camera on?”

There’s a pause, and then Lucas appears.

He’s looking up past the camera, watching something behind his screen, before he looks back, smiling awkwardly and waving a hand. He has curls falling in his face, and Jens smiles without noticing.

“Lucas, introduce yourself!” Ms Peeters says.

He mouths Uhm… and then leans forward slightly, clicking the microphone.

“My name is Lucas…” he says, an awkward smile still on his face, and Jens scoffs in sympathy. “I’m seventeen.” He pauses, looking hesitant. “I’m an artist.”

It’s not obvious, Jens thinks, looking at the wall behind Lucas. It’s completely blank, except for the stripes shadows of blinds. Not what Jens would expect from an artist. But, he supposes, he doesn’t know what kind of art Lucas means.

“I moved here from Utrecht.”

“Well, we’re very happy to have you here, Lucas. How was the move? What with everything that’s going on right now?”

“Uh, it wasn’t great.”

Ms Peeters laughs sympathetically.

“No, but it wasn’t awful,” he continues, shifting in his seat. His laptop moves as he does and Jens wonders if he’s sitting on his bed like Jens is. “The train was mostly empty and the mask wasn’t too bad. It was mostly just… moving all my stuff in here that was the hassle.” He glances up again as he says this.

“Well, lucky for you, I don’t give that much homework,” Ms Peeters says. “Most everything I’ll be assigning can be done in maybe fifteen minutes or less if you focus. But I am assigning a project soon.” Jens sees the students groan and throw their heads back, and he laughs.

“Not today!” Ms Peeters says, making an offended expression. “Calm down. I’ll be assigning it later. And it’s not poetry, I’m sure you’ll all be happy about that.” Lucas is laughing, Jens notices when he looks away from Ms Peeters. His eyes squint under his smile, and when he pushes his curls out of his face, Jens can see the slightest hint of freckles scattered across his cheeks. Jens, unfortunately, has a hard time looking away from Lucas’s little square. Ms Peeters presents her screen in the meeting so the class can take notes, and Jens’s notes are, as Moyo would probably put it, half-assed. He ends up paying more attention to the way Lucas’s brow furrows as he writes and the way his eyes move across the screen as he reads.

He wonders if his voice sounds different in person.

#friendly reminder that i am in fact an american #i know nothing about belgian school systems or belgian poetry #but i do happen to be in ap literature so im using that as a basis for their class #so if felmish sonnets have different rules than english ones im sorry #i know nothing and im a shitty researcher #anyway drink water and eat something yummy #take your meds #and relax your shoulders #i love you #<3 #vds #van der stoffels #wtfock #skam nl #jens stoffels #lucas vdh #lucas van der heijden #while the world ends around us (make believe with me)

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spooky-draws-stuff · 4 years

Text

Late Halloween post, sorry

The Egos horror movie

Written by me

Jackie and chase stood outside marvin's door, waiting for him to answer. It was the month of October, and they needed to help marvin prepare for Halloween. Every year, marvin would dress up in a fancy costume and hand out candy to the kids in his neighborhood. He would decorate his entire house and cover it in lights. This year was going to be different because he decided he wanted to open his doors and allow guests to come over and vist for a party.

Jackie sighed and turned to chase. "It's hard to feel happy during this season. There's so much pressure on people to clean their houses and waste money on candy. I feel too old to celebrate Halloween."

Chase nodded and took a sip of whiskey. "It's not so bad though. You could come over to my place and we could watch a movie together."

"But we already did that last year! I'm just tired of being lonely. Ever since I moved away from the city and got a new computer repair job no one has been showing up to work on time. It's so boring getting only a few customers a day but it pays well." Jackie explained.

Chase finished his whiskey and handed the bottle to Jbm. "You shouldn't let others expectations bring you down. I know living in the city was a rough time for you and I get it, I understand. Sometimes it's hard to move forward. You can't just give up like this. You mean so much to me. You're my friend and I really care about you."

Jackie smiled, then knocked on marvin's door. "Hey marvin! What's taking you so long? Get your ass over here and open the god damn door!" Jackie's smile disappeared and he kicked the door aggressively. Marvin! Hey marvin! I SAID OPEN THE DOOR!" Jackie's eyes widened. The door slowly creeked open. Fresh blood was soaked into the living room floor as Marvin's lifeless body was posed in a disgusting shape. His mask was broken and chopped into bits. Large wounds covered his face as maggots crawled into his exposed ribcage. He had been dead for weeks.

Jackie fell to his knees sobbing and screaming. Chase threw up all over the lawn. "DAMN IT MARVIN! Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you call me? I should have never had that argument with you! I never got to apologize!" "I should've known better, I could've done something to make sure this didn't happen again! It's not my fault I swear!" Jackie stood up and turned around aggressively. "It's time chase. He has returned, and he's going to come for our sorry asses if we don't do something about it."

Chase looked confused. "Who's coming to get us? What do you mean?" he shuddered, his voice a childish tone. "How the hell should I know chase? He comes back every Halloween, and he won't stop until everyone of us is dead or even worse...A puppet..." "Think about it chase...He's always wanted the channel....and he's always hated Jack...but with us out of the picture, it gives him the perfect opportunity to strike and to take over. Once he has Jack in his grasp, there's no telling what he'll do to him...And then the fans, our fans chase...The ones who love us and support us will have no one to turn to...We have to stop him before Halloween night. We have to save Jack before it's too late..." Jackie exclaimed.

Chase didn't say anything at all. "I know a place where we can go, but we need to get a car first."

Schneep was driving home from work when he suddenly got an alarming phone call. Since he was driving on the road, he had decided not to answer it. The phone rang again, but he still refused to answer.

Once Schneep was at his house, he opened the door to his garage and parked the car. Once he was sitting comfortably on his couch, he finally answered the phone call. "Hello? Who is this?" Schneep questioned. A bunch of static sounds layered over Chase and Jbm's worried voices played.

"We're in the car now"

"to your house!"

"Hurry!"

"It's an emergency!"

"Not much time"

"Only a few days"

"Marvin's dead!"

Schneep hung up and sat there, staring blankly at his Tv. Panicked thoughts raced through his mind. "Marvin's dead? Since when? Emergency? Where? Why are they driving to my house? What's going on?" "What did they do this time?" "Are they in danger?" "Should I call the police?"

Finally after a long wait Schneep stood up and walked into his bedroom. He reached into his drawer and pulled out a carving knife. In his closet, he pulled out a medicine kit with bandages in it, and then started packing a bag filled with surgical tools. He walked outside to the shed in his back door and carried wooden planks and a tool box into his house. He locked the back door with a padlock.

Inside the tool box were multiple chains and locks, a wrench, a wrist watch, a sledge hammer, a regular hammer, and nails. Picking up the board, Henrick took some measurements and started to nail it over the window. He did this to every window in the house. Once chase and Jbm arrived, he shoved them inside and locked the door.

"What where you doing out there, standing alone together like that? That's how you get killed," Schneep scolded.

"Chase, hand me those canned goods. Jackie, I need you to go into the pantry closet and search for the flashlight. There should be a notebook in there and a flare gun. The flare gun is for emergencies only, do not mess with it. After that, cut the power supply and turn off all the lights. Chase, I need you to start restocking the fridge and the pantry. Jackie, use the notebook to keep track of how much food we have. Everyone stay calm, do not under any circumstances use your cellphone at anytime. He can interfere with the signals and find you easily that way."

Chase and Jbm nodded and got to work right away. "But what about Jack? Is he safe too?" Chase turned to face schneep.

"Forget about him for now. We're going to survive this." Schneep pulled out a beer from the fridge and smashed it onto the floor.

"Hey! I paid good money for that thing!" Chase whined in protest. Schneep sighed heavily and face palmed, shaking his head. "If we're going to prepare for his return, then we're going to have to cover some ground rules."

"Who are you, my parent?" Chase talked back. Jbm continued to scribble into the note pad, humming a peaceful tune. "Chase, you are the most childish and immature person I have ever met in my entire life. You think I could trust you with the simple chore of handling a gun?" Schneep growled.

"Yes." Chase soon regretted what he had said and stood there awkwardly. Schneep left and pulled a white board into the living room. He started writing with a marker.

"Rule number one, never go outside"

"Rule number two, no more Tv"

Jbm walked over to the Tv and started smashing it with schneep's sledgehammer. Schneep nodded a silent thank you and continued his lecture.

"We already know he can travel through television. Same thing with radio signals, he can listen to our conversations. No more internet, he can find our address that way too.

"Rule number three, do not let anyone into our house without my permission. He can disguise himself to look like us."

"Rule number four, he can't find you if you stay quiet. If you make a noise, he'll kill you."

"Rule number five, this is a hard one. No more alcohol. You cannot fight back if you are drunk. Common sense."

Schneep rolled the board to another room. Jbm layed down an air mattress.

Chase fell asleep on the couch. Schneep walked to his coffee maker.

Jack was busy planning for his next Halloween video. He had already emailed some ideas to Robin, and they were talking about where they could film it, which cameras they would use, what clothes he would need to buy, and what time during the day it could be released. He was thinking about doing another ego skit, but was also wondering if he should just buy a pumpkin instead. It was quiet that evening and the sun had already started to go down. Jack walked to his kitchen to get a glass of water and a snack. He sat down at his table eating a brownie. He paused after hearing footsteps somewhere. He shivered, the air was freezing cold. Jack grabbed a kitchen knife and held it close. "Hello? Anyone there?" he whispered. A tall shadow breathed heavily behind him. Jack squeaked as the glitch's arm choked him.

Jameson and Robbie were chilling at their apartment. Since Robbie didn't have a job and couldn't work due to his medical conditions, Jameson took care of him when schneep wasn't there to visit. Jameson worked at a local library for kids, and he didn't make that much money. The Tv was on, and the two of them sat at the couch watching their favorite show. Jameson looked at Robbie. "Hey, you want any popcorn?" he questioned in a friendly manner. Robbie nodded slowly, his faded purple hair brushing past his face. Jameson hopped off the couch and opened the pantry. Robbie waited patiently for his food. Jameson fell over, and his wrists started to burn as fire rose from the stove. He layed motionless on the ground, unconscious. Two strong arms reached for his legs and carefully dragged his body through the open window. Robbie looked up at the ceiling. "Where...Did..You go...Jameson?" he spoke slowly. Robbie felt a warm hand brush past his shoulder. When he looked behind him, no one was there. Robbie looked outside to see a moving figure in front of the house. Robbie's white eyes glowed angrily. "Give...Him...Back..." he muttered while crashing his body through the window. Anti smiled holding Jameson. Red strings pulsed in his hands. He didn't speak, but it seemed he was saying "Come over here an get him."

Robbie leapt high into the air, attempting to pounce on Anti. He became confused when fistfuls of grass and dirt filled his hands. Robbie's eyes stopped glowing. "What?" a blurr dashed by him, and then there was nothing left. Robbie, Anti, and Jameson disappeared.

Jack opened his eyes. Colored spots danced in his vision. He saw Jameson hanging from the wall, with two knives pinning down his arms. Jameson was still breathing, but had 2 syringes poking outside from his neck. Anti was busy sewing, carefully cutting some red thread. Anti's eyes glowed green in the dim light of the unknown location. He turned slowly, and Jack instantly panicked as soon as he saw him. Anti held a spool of thread and a needle. His messy brown hair covered half his face, and blood dripped from his black boots, the silver buckles on them glinting in the moonlight that poured through a tiny window. Robbie stood up, his eyes bleeding. Anti handed Robbie a scarf from the table. Anti pointed at Jack, and Robbie obeyed. Robbie approached Jack, cautiously tying the scarf around his mouth. Jack's entire body started shaking. Anti stomped on Jack's leg, the sound of Jack's bones cracking broke the silence in the air.

"Anything...Else...You...Need?" Robbie's arms went limp at his sides. "W-What did you d-do to him?" Jack stuttered, his whimpers muffled by the cloth. Anti snarled, and dropped down to his knees. He stared at Jack, his eyes stopped the light they emitted in the darkness. Anti shoved his clawed hand over Jack's mouth. "Shhhh..." he hissed, and looked behind himself quickly.

Anti picked up the needle and thread and Robbie looked at the chains holding Jack's arms. Anti then took his time to make careful incisions along Jack's left wrist. Anti sewed the thread into Jack's skin, making even stitches and avoiding his veins. Tears flooded Jack's eyes as he was forced to feel tiny pricks and thread under his skin as warm blood glazed his hand. Anti moved on to the next wrist, repeating the process. When it was over, he smiled and gave Jack a pat on the head. "Good puppet." he whispered hoarsely.

Anti's footsteps echoed across the wooden floor. He brushed his hand along the knife that was in Jameson's arm, and moved his head, admiring his work. Whistling to himself, he used his fingers to follow the blood trail on the wall. He meticulously pulled out the two syringes in Jameson's neck and shook Jay's head gently, making sure he didn't break his neck. "Wake up Jay. I've brought you a friend." Anti laughed. Jay said nothing, his eyes were shut tight. "Oh...That's disappointing...Maybe next time..." Anti returned to his work table and picked up a cloth that was soaked with blood. "No, not this one." he talked to himself quietly. He put the cloth down and picked up a carving knife. "I'm going to give you a nice smile, Jack."

A loud scream belted from the cabin. Birds raced away from the danger.

Schneep was passed out on the floor, while chase and Jbm were drunk and playing uno. They had a secret stash of liquor bottles that went undiscovered by schneep. "Now listen here you little shit, my card, the red card says that I'm going to reverse what you just did, because you decided you were going to fuck up my entire strategy." Chase slurred. Jbm shook his head as his body swayed. "No, it says in the rules you're supposed to draw 20 or admit that you're too stupid to finish this game!" Jbm face planted onto the ground. "Oh god oh fuck I'm bleeding my nose oww"

Schneep jolted awake. "What is going on with you two? Haven't you watched any movies at all? IF YOU DRINK, YOU DIE! Any character who drinks gets killed, and you just ruined everything for yourself. So don't blame me if you two get dragged away or stabbed to death. Schneep yawned and then kicked the bottles away. He grabbed chase's hat and smacked his face with it. "Now stop goofing off, tomorrow is Halloween." he sighed and sat down on the couch, loading a shot gun. "Go clean up Jbm, and chase, go get some water. I'm sending myself to the front lines, I've been training all year for this day."

Schneep's house was very tall and well built. The windows were boarded, the power lines had been cut. The front door was locked multiple times, and the back door had been bolted shut. The car was filled with emergency supplies, a spare tire, and a full tank of gas. All possible weapons were removed from the garage, leaving empty space and lots of room to move. Schneep had drawn a map on the whiteboard and went over the plans for the layout in the house. Chase and Jbm had gathered anything they could use to fight with:Gardening tools,(Chainsaw, weed eater, Lawn clippers, and a rake) Knives, and the items in schneep's tool box(Hammer, sledgehammer, and a wrench) Schneep held his gun close to him and looked at the time on the alarm clock. "You have your pistol ready, chase?" Schneep took a sip of tea. Chase nodded. Jbm held up the rake. "It reminds me of my bow staff at home. I can definitely fight with this." He held it close to himself eagerly.

Schneep walked up to the window. He waved his hand at chase and Jbm.

"You see something?" Chase whispered.

Schneep peered through the hole he had carved into the wood that allowed him to have a tiny view outside of his house.

There stood a man, large and frighteningly tall. His brown hair covered his emerald eyes. A red wound oozed blood against his pale, icy skin. Dressed in black, his silver buckles were the only colors present on his boots.

Gripped tightly in his right hand, he held a large kitchen knife. In his left hand, he held up Jack's body. Schneep frantically glanced back at Chase and Jbm, struggling to breathe. His hands shook rapidly as he began to pick up shards of glass and cut up his own arms. Chase and Jbm said nothing, they were helpless to stop it. They were paralyzed against their will. They had seen Anti too. Before schneep fell onto the floor, he had written only a few words. "The Glitch returns." Schneep lied motionless before being able to move again. He tore off a piece of his shirt and covered up the hole. "New rule...Don't look at him" Schneep picked up his med kit and injected himself with Antibiotics before cleaning his cuts and bandaging himself.

Chase and Jbm hid behind the couch as the back door rattled viciously. A few rustling noises and the crackling noise of a lighter was enough to tell them to run. Too fearful, they did not move. Bright orange flames licked at the door. Footstep sounds moved to a new location. The door burned, the nauseating scent of ash and smoke filled the air. "Why didn't you tell us the door was made of wood?" Chase whispered harshly at schneep. "I didn't think that through!" Schneep shouted a little too loudly. A fist knocked a hole into the door. Everyone in the room held up their weapons. A boot pounded through the bottom of the door and succeeded, wood splinters and shavings littering the ground. Anti gripped both sides of the door before tearing it off completely. Fire bounced onto his clothes, and he calmly ignored it. With a clap of his hands the flames stopped. Without muttering a word, he tossed Jack's body onto the floor. Stitches were sewn into his cheeks, giving him the appearance of a forced smile. His mouth bled, and his jaw was damaged. His eyes were open, and he was still breathing.

With wild eyes Jack reached out to grab Chase's leg, crawling towards him. Chase lifted up Jack and they scurried into another room to hide. Anti did not follow them, it seemed he was not interested in his old prey. Schneep fired his shot gun multiple times at Anti, but Anti just teleported out of the way. The only time a bullet hit Anti was in his arm. Anti pulled the bullet out and dropped it onto the floor. The wound closed up as he regenerated.

Schneep picked up the sledge hammer and swung at Anti's chest. Anti's ribs make a popping noise, but they only mended back together. Anti grabbed schneep's shirt collar and choked him, lifting him high off the ground before slamming him into the floor. "You puppets are no fun to play with anymore." Anti took his time holding up his knife in an over strike motion as schneep scrambled on the floor. Schneep 's hand landed on the handle of a wrench and he tossed it at Anti's head. Anti dodged and he pinned Schneep down with his foot. Anti stabbed schneep in his stomach, blood spewing out of schneep's body. Anti took his foot off and picked up a hammer. He paused, and stared at it lost in his own thoughts.

Chase and Jack were in the garage, attempting to start the car with no luck. Anti had already cut the wires in the car battery. Jack was alive with only mouth injuries and a broken leg. He was missing a few teeth, and the strings sewn into his wrists were not deep into his skin.

Jbm was behind Anti being very still and silent holding up the garden rake. With speedy reflexs he wacked Anti on the head with the metal part. Fresh markings oozed crimson across his face. Anti touched his face and examined the blood on his fingers. He shrugged and stared at Jbm completely expressionless. Jbm took off running outside from the back door that had burned down. Anti picked up a chainsaw and started the mower, following Jbm at a snail's pace. Jbm stopped at the tool shed and desperately fumbled with the locks on the door. Anti was right behind him and turned off the chainsaw. "I don't need the channel in order to be feared. I don't need Jack in order to have control. I don't need the fans in order to have power. I am my own person now." He started the chainsaw again. "Now tell me, Jackie. Haven't you always wondered what your insides looked like?"

Chase hopped out of the car. "Jack? Can you speak?"

Jack nodded. "It...Hurts...Somebody...Please....Help me...The glitch...Anti...Has lost it....We're all going to die now...." He coughed.

Schneep was flat on his back on the sofa. Ropes tied his limbs together in complicated knots. He had multiple knives poked into his back. He wept softly into the night.

Jbm fell to his knees, begging for another option. Anti smiled and held the blade closer to his throat, the engine roaring. "Make a promise, and I won't decapitate you." he compromised.

Jbm nodded. Anti turned off the chainsaw. "Allow me to appear once a year for this little game. I hunt you all down on my favorite holiday. All you have to do is survive. Do you understand?"

Jbm nodded again, his entire body shaking.

Chase hugged Jack. "I'm sorry....I'm so fucking sorry...." Jack's eyes glowed green. "That's okay..." his voice distorted as he stood up and started healing, his body radiating a green color. He hovered above the air, his hair floating in different directions. "You don't have to be." Jack leaned back, his jaw unhinging as a sickening cackle unleashed itself from his body. Red strings shot up from the ground and wrapped around chase, encasing him in thread. Eventually the rest of his body was covered in thread.

"No...I never did." Jbm smirked. "What's so funny? What kind of last words are those? Isn't this the part where I enjoy killing you?" Anti tilted his head, curious why his prey was so talkative.

Jbm pointed at the sky. "It's sunrise. Time for you to hurry back home."

"No! NO! I CAN'T GO BACK!" Anti howled before going into shadow form. Smoke emitted from him as he raced to his cabin, where Robbie and Jameson were .Sunlight only hurt him the day after Halloween night.

Jbm looked in horror at the discovery of schneep. Schneep wailed in agony. Chase carried Jack, who had lost his memories of Anti but his body had fully recovered. "At least we're alive." Chase commented absent mindly.

"We sure are" Jbm gulped.

Jack cautiously pulled out the knives from schneep's back. "Not even that deep...He just wanted to torture him. Let's get him to a hospital. Jack examined Schneep's injuries before cutting the ropes that restrained him.

"Hey um chase....How did you get out of that rope trap anyway?" Jack asked.

"When the sun rose Anti lost his hold." Chase replied. "Who?" Jack looked confused.

"The glitch."

#jse egos #jacksepticeye #jse fandom #jse #marvin the magnificent #Antisepticeye #henrick von schneeplestein #Jackieboyman #Robbie the zombie #Jameson Jackson #Chase brody #Tw blood #tw gore #tw death

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dreaming-gamer · 4 years

Text

DMC Week Day 7: College AU

For my final entry for DMC week, I chose to write the trio as college students playing Final Fantasy XIV – Nero, V & Nico.

A self-indulgent AU fic (haven’t played Final Fantasy XIV in years) based on a few college headcanons.

Thank you to everyone and all that’s read my works during this week! Your support means a lot ❤️❤️❤️ Here we go, hope you enjoy!

Nero as Warrior, tank

Nico as Machinist, damage dealer

V as Summoner, damage dealer

***

Nero nervously stared at his health-bar steadily going down as attack after attack scratched down his life despite all the buffs his character had on. The controller vibrated furiously in his hands, his jaw clenched. The boss would be dead at any second and the healer was trying their best but the bad connection they had so far had was making Nero nervous. Wasn’t a heal long overdue? Weren’t their character just standing still?

“If you perish, I got Resurrection ready.” V said, his voice ever so calm that it actually made Nero grin. Was he ever happy he’d gotten himself this new headset that let him regulate game and party sounds separately? Yeah, they were in a bad spot, but the boss was so close to dead now. They’d get through it.

“Nico!” He called the second the limit break chime could be heard in his headset.

“On it!” Nero could basically hear the buttons on her controller being slammed, together with her laughter. “Eat this!” Nico’s machinist character pulled out the crossbow, ready for the shot that would send the boss to oblivion.

“Dammit!” Nero shifted his character as an AoE marker appeared under his feet, along with certain death as his health was reaching less than 5000. Even if V revived him instantly, Nero as the tank dying now might just spell their doom.

The boss inched after him, leaving the indicated line of Nico’s limit break. Winds whipped around their characters, but they all managed to avoid more injury.

“Whoa, whatcha doing?!” Nico exclaimed in disbelief.

“Just aim again!” Thrill of Battle was back off cooldown, restoring some of his health. Sweet.

“It got used up, asshole! Healer dc’ed!” Nico’s voice snapped his focus back. Another buff off cooldown and he used it.

“What?!” Did that have to happen at this crucial moment? One quick glance at the party list said ??? for the healer’s status.

“Nero, your Holmgang should be ready for use. Just hold on.” V calmly stated and Nero blinked as he realized V was right. Had he been counting seconds since the last four minutes??

“Fuck!” The progress bar over the boss’ life told him a tankbuster was coming. Nero waited, his finger on the trigger for Holmgang, his sweet 6-seconds of almost invincibility to save him if needed. He pushed the button, the bright orange line above the boss filled the entire way, the hit connected, the controller in his hands vibrating valiantly. Hit points sailing down to zero. Swears bubbled up in his chest, flowed out of him like a sailor when the boss started to move towards Nico. But it had sooo little HP left!

“I pushed the button, I swear!” Nero shouted in disbelief, heart pounding in his chest, did they really have to redo this??

A sharp blast of white light engulfed the boss, sending it to the ground and the screen faded to black for a second before the victory cutscene played, with Nero’s own character magically on his feet. This was why he loved having V as a summoner on their team.

“Freaking finally! We did it!” Nico celebrated. Nero grinned, feeling as if a stone lifted off his shoulders.

“Let’s check gear!”

“No healer means one less to compete with!” Nico singsonged, letting her character put her grabby hands on the treasure chest. A healer chestpiece popped up on screen. Nero’s sigh was mimicked by Nico, none of them were a healer, not even close. At least there was a Strength ring for him to grab.

Nero blinked as the notifications told him V had grabbed the healer chestpiece. Unprompted, the summoner spoke.

“Perhaps I should go as a scholar, for our next dungeon. Our luck with healers tonight has been… less than fruitful.”

“Nah man, continue with summoner if you want, we’ll be--”

“Do it!” Nico stated on the top of her lungs, her microphone bumping into her chin as she grabbed for a cigarette. “I wanna see the end of the next dungeon tonight!”

“I can go paladin for extra heals.” Nero shrugged, even if neither of his companions could see it.

“And give up that sweet damage, really?” Nico teased, making Nero huff.

“I can play defensively every once in a while.”

“Uh huh…” Nico snickered, while all he heard from V was a chuckle.

“What, I can! Come on, let’s go to the next one!” Nero prompted and grabbed for his soda, eager to go again. Leaning his head back for a sip, there were just two drops meeting his tongue. Damn, when had his beverage run out?

“As… enjoyable as progressing further would be, I am fairly certain you both have lectures in the morning?” V said matter-of-factly while there was a weak rustling of a book page being turned coming from his microphone.

“Yeah, so? I can do it for a bit longer--” Nero started, checking his phone for time. It was waaay too late! “It’s already FIVE?!”

Dry coughing made it clear Nico had just swallowed smoke.

“Y-y-yer…” Cough. “kid-ding!”

“Hell no!” Nero exclaimed.

“Why didn’t ya say somethin’?!” Nico coughed at the sole calm person.

“I did try to, both at one and three o’clock. You both were a bit too… absorbed in what we were doing.” V calmly stated, making Nero groan, oh yeah, they might have been into everything. It wouldn’t be the first time…

“I gotta scram, I’ve got an exam tomor-- today!” With that, Nico’s character was logged out, her voice chat icon offline.

Nero sighed.

“Hope that works out for her. What about you V?” The sign out option showed up at the click of a menu and Nero clicked himself out, the calming music of the title screen trickling through his second-hand headset that smelled of energy drink. At most he’d be able to get what, two hours of sleep? Was it even worth it at this point?

“I will attempt to sleep. I do not have a lecture until the afternoon.”

“Lucky you, vampire.” Nero snorted, his dormmate’s chuckle meeting his ears. “Catch you at lunch then?”

“If I have awakened until then, yes.”

“Great.” Nero knew he should log off, get some sleep. But damn, he didn’t feel sleepy at all. He knew something would keep him up, if he went now.

“Hey V?” He tried, hoping the other hadn’t shut off his headset just yet.

“Yes Nero?” V didn’t sound bothered by the quiet inquiry, despite being about to head to sleep. Nero inhaled, through his nose.

“I told you my grade dropped a bit, right? From last exam?” During the day, he brushed it off, no problem. But at night, it was hard to not feel some… nervousness over what could happen, if his grades dropped too much. Nero needed to keep it up, if he wanted a new scholarship and he not only wanted that scholarship, he needed it so badly to stay.

“Yes.” A pause, followed by V softly closing a book. “Are you worried it might happen again?” He softly asked.

Nero scratched his nose, V even knew before he voiced the issue? He wasn’t sure if he felt relieved or called out.

“Yeah, something like that. I know our subjects are pretty different…” No shit, considering V was reading the classical poems and literary works of people whose names Nero barely could pronounce. But V had great study technique, always fixing his assignments on time, something that Nero had failed to do, several times. He admired that, about the dorm vampire with a love for classical music. V’s voice was always a joy to listen to as well. Maybe he didn’t say everything he was thinking, but his voice was deep, calming at this late hour.

“But, you up for studying together? Someday this week? I think I need someone to help me not procrastinate so much and Nico is not that…” If anything, she either sat with her notes and realized she had found out something brilliant for her own studying, or she was digging the rock music Nero always put on while studying, just as much as he was.

“I don’t mind.” V replied, making Nero grin with relief over having one guy in his corner. “We can start with hiding your headphones. Or your Bluetooth speaker.”

“Right…” Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea, Led Zeppelin did snatch his focus otherwise. Nero let out a small laugh. “But you’ll give the headphones back, right? I need those for my morning runs.”

“Hmm, perhaps.” His dormmate teased.

“Or you’ll come along on my morning runs to keep me company?” Nero tried, he had given hints to get V to join him in the fresh air, the early morning sun for weeks now.

“Too chilly for me, I’m afraid.” Was the soft reply. “I will retire for now, Nero. Do try to get some sleep.”

“Yeah, fine… Thanks V.” Nero’s eyelids actually felt a bit heavier now.

“You’re welcome. Goodnight. Or perhaps, good morning.” V replied with a chuckle.

Nero groaned, giving a goodnight before ending the voice chat.

#dmcweek #dmcweek2020 #devil may cry fanfiction #devil may cry nero #devil may cry nico #devil may cry v #final fantasy xiv #my writing

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badboyfriends · 4 years

Note

Hum

(I’ve worked on this for three days,,, there is probably 800 words i had to cut out of this. this is just,, wow is it messy. I might fix this up one of these days but have this.

mild tw for sam having some uh,,, unspecified mental issues? i guess implied,, personality disorder? I don’t wanna label him with anything but i plan on researching different sorta disorders and things but wijadaushdoiw

i just,, i just wanna write fluff and normal teen au but. idk. i hate this, i hate this a LOT. but. i wanted to write something.)

Taurtis had always felt most at ease with music. He never had a particular sound, hopping around everything from pop, to grunge, to rock, to hiphop, to indie, and so on and so on. He’d just find a rhythm and become entranced with it for days and days on end.

It was this connection that made it hard for him to want to share his taste in music. Music was always a subjective thing, and he hated the feeling of judgment he’d receive during any mention of his music interests.

So, he kept his music to himself. His headphones would always act as a source of comfort to him. Music is personal, it’s a connection.

What you’re listening to very well could be a reflection of how you feel. Could be used as a marker for events in your life, little stamps and reminders of events. So, he liked to keep that to himself.

Music is a constant in Taurtis’ life, and it’s something he greatly appreciates. But there are two other constants in his life, as well: Sam and Grian.

Sam and Taurtis had been connected by the hip ever since the met each other. Their chaotic and curious nature simply blended together perfectly, they were two halves of on person. And then there was Grian, always there to be the voice of reason to their chaos, attempting to keep their destructive nature to a minimum.

The Trouble Trio. The three blended together complimentary, they never did feel quite as whole without their other halves with them. Perhaps this was why they’d always be drawn back together.

For Taurtis, life was music. Life was anywhere with Sam and/or Grian by his side. This was of course how Sam and Grian ended up being the first and only people he’d share what he listened to with.

It started when Taurtis had moved in with Sam. He’d begin wearing his headphones around his neck, playing a playlist as he’d unpack or lounge around the house.

“You can totally just play whatever you’re listening to on the speaker, Dude. i can basically already hear it.” Sam would offer, nodding towards the small speaker sat on the table beside the couch

Taurtis would only grow flushed, lowering the volume and brushing off the offer.

Life continued as normal after that, Sam hadn’t exactly bothered questioning Taurtis on his habits other than an occasional remark or inquiry, and life wouldn’t happily continued like that for a while. And then Sam started therapy.

There absolutely was no hiding the fact that Sam had been a concerning character, to say the least. He was troubled. Taurtis knew this. He was reckless, and unneeded cruel, and rash, his temper and sense dropping at the drop of a hat. But.. He was Taurtis’ best friend. Sam was a constant. He hadn’t left Taurtis when he was at a low point, so he’d never imagine leaving Sam.

Sam was at a low point, yes, maybe his lowest point. But he was on an upward spiral, Taurtis would hope. So Taurtis tried to help him the same way he helped himself. Music.

Whenever Sam would come home and be frustrated, and mad, and overwhelmed by whatever revelation had been made from therapy, Taurtis would talk him down, and sooth him, and handle it like he does his own issues Music. Taurtis would sit and embrace him and hum a song.

Once Sam’d get to a more composed state, they’d listen to music on their phones, sat practically atop each other as the hours went by over the white noise of music.

So, music was now Taurtis’ and Sam’s comfort. Had either of the duo been stressed, or upset, or emotional, they’d merely zone in on the other’s subtle humming of one song or another.

Now, Taurtis isn’t one to be the biggest fan of change.. But this had been one he couldn’t complain about.

#i have no memory of HALF of this i hope you know #it's 2am just #enjoy pls #saurtis #taurtis #samgladiator #sam gladiator #yhs #yandere high school #yhs taurtis #yhs sam gladiator #yhs drabble

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fuwafuwamedb · 4 years

Text

Summoning An Ancient Jackass (Gilgamesh, Hakuno)

There was a lot of chanting.

Hakuno stared at the room, watching the man in the center of the circle chanting and shouting towards a large, very poor adaption of the great king of Uruk… or rather- what seemed to be a pop culture icon with a smolder on his face and a lion on his lap.

Truly?

They thought that was Gilgamesh?

She’d switched four departments before settling on this damn language and culture and that was what they were going to do with the kind of information that she delve up from the depths of Iraq? Why didn’t they just make Raikou a large chested “ara ara” kind of person? Why not just make Nero Claudius some ‘waifu’ material for horny young people to jack off to or imagine as a wife?

Heck, why not make change up some relationships? Who says Brynhild needed to have only a one night stand with a disguised Sigurd? Let’s have them fall in love and cancel out his wife. He doesn’t need the woman anyway?

I can’t even remember that woman’s name that he married, Hakuno thought bitterly.

Tomorrow would be a study day.

“COME GILGAMESH!” The man in the center of the circle chanted. “COME TO ME!”

She scoffed. “The man wouldn’t come to you even if you were naked and pumping your dick, dumbass.”

Oh.

The group paused from their work, glancing up to the alcove she was sitting in.

“YOU! HEATHEN!”

They sounded like the damn conferences, but she could hardly appreciate that. There were a handful rushing for the stairs. She could see them storming to get her, grabbing just as she finished gathering her sketchbook and preparing to head home.

“You’ve invaded the wrong church,” one of the men murmured.

“I am a tourist,” Hakuno tried.

The hooded men barely reacted, opting to haul her down to where their summoning circle was. The one in the center of the circle- their precious leader- was already pacing, cursing and spitting at those around. She didn’t need to see their bodies or their faces to sense the levels of tension in the room. Why they would be frustrated by their own games and play occults, she would never know.

“You. Girl.”

“I prefer my name,” she told him, earning a growl.

“We do not know your name, do we?”

This was true.

“What is wrong with my summoning?”

Finally, someone bothered to ask what was wrong. Rather than blindly going about their work and continuing to become more and more frustrated as they reached incorrect solutions and assumptions, someone had finally bothered to look at alternatives. Someone had finally decided to think that perhaps they were wrong.

She could work with that.

“First problem that you have is that your circle here is grossly incorrect on Sumerian,” she told him. “You tried to write this in modern letters too. And why is there German here?”

Was this the Thule Society?

“Second problem,” Hakuno pointed out, “Your circle takes after a great number of symbols that come from Christian and stereotypical occult symbology. You’re trying to summon someone from ancient Sumer with the entirely incorrect culture. This is like giving Eastern robes on an American as part of their culture.”

The hooded group murmured to one another, bringing forth scrub brushes and beginning to wipe up the circle quickly.

“You have a statue here that was clearly made by a horny teenager with a cat love,” Hakuno pointed out. “You’re doing this in a church, but considering the fact that you probably can get this place to yourself at night, we’ll leave that for now. Your chants are partially in German as well. What is it with you people and German? Not all cults have to use German, you know.”

“You try this out then,” the man growled, moving to grab something from the nearby altar and shove it into her hands.

She took one look and snorted.

“What is it now?”

“This is a fake tablet.”

“It is not. It is the tablet that Gilgamesh wrote, declaring a need for valuables to build a crown from for his friend, Enkidu.”

“Why would he use a younger version of Sumerian that isn’t developed until at least a century after his death?”

The man stared at her.

She could almost sense the dismay.

“…Create your circle, since you are so smart,” he demanded.

Well, she could try.

It might be fun to mess around and attempt to summon a great king of heroes. Taking the blood colored marker from the men, she hummed for a moment.

The Sumerian flower would be a good symbol for the center of her summoning circle. She drew one quickly before humming again.

The next part of their circle had been writings. They’d been bad at writing and opted for German, which was no doubt one of the occultist’s primary language. For her circle, she would use the script of the great king’s talk with Humbaba. It was witty. It was a negotiation for gaining something that the king wanted. It also was just entertaining to write.

She swapped the offering of a mouse with an offering of an idiot.

Ah, this was actually becoming fun.

The inverted symbol of Ishtar was fun to draw in one of the flower petals. She drew a mapping of ancient Euphrates and Tigris in another petal. A lion head in another. A great bird in another.

Anzu birds were part of the Sumerian myths around the king’s time. His father had gotten speed from them in exchange for his actions.

“Alright.” Hakuno handed the marker back. “This should do.”

The hooded leader looked at her handiwork and shook their head. “…This looks like an indie band’s album cover.”

“Thanks, your opinion has reminded me that I have better things to do.”

Ah, but her witt shoved her right back into the center of the circle, the group barring her from leaving. Their chanting began again, leaving her to groan at their insistence to try to do this summoning.

A light came from beneath her feet, making her mind draw short.

Was this?

The chanting grew louder around her. Sparks began to fly, expanding as Hakuno laughed. She could feel her hand burning a bit, her eyes going to the leader only to hear him shouting over the others.

“You must say it too, woman.”

This was interesting.

She didn’t even worry about the how of it all. They’d humored her. She could humor them in turn. It beat arguing over the phone with Rin or Shinji. She listened to their small chant a moment before she began to chant.

The chant was said once before everything went black.

“…Well… That was anti-climactic.”

A laugh came from behind her.

Suddenly, the world was back in rights, the hooded ones passed out around her as someone stood behind her person. She could feel their breath on the back of her neck. She could almost sense them leaning in.

“What is this?”

Hakuno turned, noting the man looking at her drawn circle with interest. The armor on his person was out of sorts, showing Sumerian influence right down to the grand writing upon his pelvic plate declaring him a grand warrior.

She stared, rereading that for good measure.

Grand warrior…

Shouldn’t that be on a chest plate of his back?

Was this a reference to him being some kind of sexual deviant in bed? Was it intentional or was it a last minute piece? Was-

“Woman.”

The man snapped his fingers, making her glance up at him.

“Who are you?”

“You’re neither cute nor amusing, master… if you are even worthy of such a title, mongrel.”

She really wasn’t trying to be cute now. The annoyance and the bitter humor at finding these occultists trying to pass off inaccurate nonsense about myths as accurate had been grating at her nerves a bit. And then this guy…

Her eyes shifted to the statue nearby.

“…Are you a patron for this church?”

It would explain why he had a statue here.

“I am Gilgamesh, King of Uruk, the conqueror of Humbaba and-”

“Gilgamesh was a co-conqueror, not a conqueror alone,” Hakuno pointed out. “He had his friend at his side and went there originally with a moment of faltering in the Cedar Forest. If it wasn’t for his friend, he wouldn’t have bothered and he’d have returned home, without discovering the reality of mortality.”

The man stared at her.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“…You are not.” He didn’t sound pleased about that.

“He was a great king.”

The man nodded.

“And he’s very dead, so please. Who are you?”

“I am Gilgamesh.”

“A Gilgamesh? Did your parents wish to name you something unusual?” She’d heard of some oddball parents out there in the world. Sometimes parents wanted to feel like they had a unique and unheard of name for their child.

“My mother is Ninsun. My father is Lugalbanda.”

“If you are Gilgamesh, then tell me this: how was sex with Ishtar?”

His expression was priceless. The brows furrowed almost to limits they dared not go. His eyes, already so serious, narrowed, glaring at her with an unerring focus. His lips thinned.

“Well?”

“I have no need to sully my person with someone so useless. The woman is the splinter in the hand of a farmer. She’s a cut upon the heart of-“

“Tell me something only the real Gilgamesh could say.”

The man glared at her a moment longer before beginning what had to be the most profound and detailed rant in Sumerian that she’d ever heard. Minutes passed, filled with the sounds of his shouting. Perfect pronunciation, without a second of hesitation or search for words; he was truly a speaker of Sumerian.

Hell, that was even archaic insults!

“Come with me.”

Hakuno grabbed his hand immediately, hauling him towards the exit.

“The grail, woman.”

“I have some cups at home,” Hakuno promised. “I brewed some ancient Sumerian beer recently too. I’ll pour you a glass when we get to my house. I have questions for you.”

And demands, but he could hear her demands for answers about his Epic later.

He could explain why he looked very different from his real statues then too.

#drabble #drabbles

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jjdoggies-fanfics · 4 years

Text

Prompt #57

Prompt: We Met Each Other At A Concert And Really Hit It Off, You Gave Me Your Number But When I Tried To Call You The Next Day, It Wasn’t Your Number. I’m Crushed Because You Obviously Gave Me The Wrong Number On Purpose. But We Just So Happen To See Each Other At Another Concert Months Later And It Turns Out You Fucked Up When You Typed It Into My Phone And You Were Bummed Because You Thought I Blew You Off

Diego has never been the type of person to get hung up on someone. Especially someone that he’d only met one time. But, she was different. Vanya was different than every other girl he’d ever been with, in the best possible way.

Most girls that went to rock concerts, at least the ones he went to, hardly ever actually knew what bands were even playing. But Vanya. She knew more than he ever had about the bands, telling him various stories from tours and meanings about songs he hadn’t thought of before.

She’d also told him, about how she’d always wanted to start a band, but had never been able to find the right people.

As the concert, unfortunately, came to an end as Diego had never had such an enjoyable time talking to someone before, he started to work up the courage to ask Vanya for her number. But before he’d asked her, Vanya pulled a marker she’d had in her bag and stuck out her hand, telling him to write his number on her hand, mentioning that her phone had died a few hours ago.

When they parted ways, Vanya promising to call him the next day, once her phone was charged, Diego had been feeling pretty good about how things had gone between them. But, she never called.

Not the next day. Or the day after. Or a week later. Or a month. Two months. Three.

Diego had nearly forgotten about her entirely, finally starting to move on from her, despite nothing too serious ever happening between them. That is until, there was another concert. The Cliff Edge. Vanya’s favorite band.

He thought about canceling his ticket, not wanting to dredge up any more memories of her. Get caught up on her again. But, in the end, thankfully, he’d decided against it. Diego had ordered his ticket nearly a year in advance, he really liked them too, not his favorite, but up there, and he wanted to go.

So, he did.

And it was the best decision he’d ever made.

After about two hours of standing outside in the itchy grass, in the stupidly muggy heat, having been run into too many times and having several beers spilled onto him, barely listening to the two bands that he’d heard once or twice before opening for The Cliff Edge, someone about a half foot or so shorter than him, elbowed him, hard, into his stomach. If he hadn’t been pissed off already, he likely would’ve decked whoever had done it in their face.

Instead, when he looked at the culprit, expecting some pissy chick that was far too drunk to be in public, Diego was surprised to see a rather, and equally pissed, Vanya glaring at him. “Um, hi.” God he was lame, “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“You know, Diego,” Vanya hissed at him, her glare set firmly on her face, “if you didn’t want to give me your number, you could’ve just told me. You didn’t have to give me a fake number.” Wait, what?

In an instant, she turned on her heel and took one stomping step away from him before he grabbed her wrist. Thankfully, Vanya didn’t cause a scene or wrench her wrist out of his grasp, instead just let him lead her into a less crowded section of the field silently.

The second they were practically alone, or at least out of earshot of most of the people around them, Vanya hissed at him, “What do you want Diego?”

“What do you mean I gave you a fake number?” he asked, because he was pretty sure he wrote his number on her hand correctly.

Vanya pulled her phone out of her bag, the same one she had last time, clicked on the screen a few times before whipping the screen around to show him the contact she had pulled up.

Not Diego

(027)724-3156

And in an instant, Diego realized what had happened. “You typed it in wrong.”

“No I didn’t.” Vanya sneered back, rolling her eyes with a huff, “I checked it like, ten times. That’s what you wrote.”

“No,” Diego countered, “the six is supposed to be an eight.”

“Well you wrote six.”

“I know, I wrote an eight.”

“Well,” Vanya huffed, anger leaving, just leaving the residual confusion, “if you did write an eight and not a six, then how was there a six on my hand?”

Diego in turn huffed, frustration at their stupid situation growing, “Some of the ink must’ve rubbed off of your hand between the time I wrote it and you trying to call me.” He hadn’t about the marker rubbing off being a possible cause until the words fell out of his mouth, but once they did, it actually made a bit of sense. A lot of sense actually.

And Vanya seemed to be thinking the same thing, realizing that they’d both thought the other had blown them off. When, ironically, that was the opposite of what either of them wanted. She quickly typed something on her phone, presumably correcting the accidentally incorrect number, as a blush spread across her face.

In an attempt to save both of them from any additional, and unneeded, embarrassment, Diego, once again, took a hold of Vanya’s wrist and pulled her back into the mass of people, pushing their way towards the front of the crowd, making sure he didn’t lose hold of her. Didn’t lose her again.

There were a few somewhat awkward moments once they reached the near front, neither moving all the much, eyes focused on the band on stage, both hesitant to make the first move. Diego felt Vanya’s fingers brush against his own as they slid into his hand, and suddenly her hand holding his was the only thing he could focus on. They only spent roughly 5 minutes pretending to watch the band, holding hands like embarrassed school children for 3 of those minutes, before Vanya pulled him with her, leading him back out of the crowd.

This time, Vanya lead them out of the gate for the ‘outdoor stadium’ and into the parking lot. As Vanya lead them through the lot, Diego realized they were going to pass his car. So right when they were about to, Diego pulled Vanya back slightly, stopping her from continuing through the parking lot, instead lifted up her small frame and put her on the hood of his car.

“Diego, what are you-” Vanya started, a slightly surprised yet excited look on her face, before Diego pressed another kiss to her lips, which she quickly returned. One kiss lead to two, and in less than a minute they were practically making out on top of Diego’s car.

After a few minutes of making out, only pulling away when their lungs started to burn from a lack of air, Diego asked, “Wanna get out of here?”

“Where would we go?” Vanya asked, a playful smile gracing her lips.

“Where ever we want.” Diego answered, lifting Vanya off the hood of the car and once her feet were on the ground he dug the keys out of his pocket, unlocking the car with a beep.

Vanya looked between Diego and the car with surprise, “Wait,” she started, “this is your car?”

“Of course it is,” Diego answered, if it weren’t for the smug look on his face, Vanya would’ve thought he was being a dick, “I wouldn’t make out on some random person’s car.” He ignored her flustered stammering in favor of sliding into the car and turning it on. The engine revving to life shook Vanya from her stammering and got her to get into the passenger seat of his car. Diego reached over and took a hold of one of her hands, pulling her attention to him, asking, “Ready?”

And she answered, “Ready.”

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lovemesomesurveys · 3 years

Text

1. Do you like having your picture taken? No.

2. Have you ever done a photo shoot, professional or non? I’ve had pictures taken at photo studios and I have a cousin who’s a photographer that did my college graduation photos.

3. If you could go anywhere in the world where would you go and why? I mean, nowhere right now. BUT, there’s a lot of places I’d love to visit one day. Various countries and places here in the US. I just want to be able to travel a lot one day.

4. Who would you take with you on this little adventure? My family.

5. What would you say is the most daring thing to do in a lifetime? That’s going to be different for everyone of course, but basically something that pushes you out of your comfort zone. Conquering a fear.

6. Would you ever do that? I don’t know.

7. Have you ever done crossword puzzles? Yeah. I much prefer word searches, though.

8. Ever actually completed one? Yeah.

9. Pick up the closest book and write a sentence at random from it. There isn’t a book near me.

10. Do the same with a lyric from either a cd or the radio. Nah.

11. Have you ever tried to analyze your own dreams? Yeah, many times. I’ve tried to look up what some things symbolize and what it might mean for me.

12. Would you put up posters in your room? Yeah. I have some things hung up.

13. Can you sing? I can’t sing well at all. I wish.

14. Do you ever sing to yourself while doing everyday tasks? Yes.

15. What's your favorite color of post-it note? Pink.

16. How many cassette tapes do you own? Zero.

17. How many cd's do you own? I don’t have any CDs anymore.

18. Ever bought a cd for just one song? I probably have.

19. What would your perfect day consist of? Beach days are nice. Or since it’s winter, renting a cozy cabin in the snow sounds lovely.

20. Have you ever lied to get off the phone or out of talking to someone online? Yes.

21. Have you ever written a survey? Once. It was several years ago during the Xanga days. I wish I still had it saved.

22. How about a song? If so share it. No.

23. Or maybe a poem? If so share it or one of them. I dabbled with poetry when I was 16. I am definitely not sharing one, they’re super cringey.

24. Is your vcr flashing 12:00 all the time? I don’t have a VCR. Wow, cassette tapes and VCRs how old is this survey?

25. Do you read your horoscope? No.

26. If so, do you base your day on it? No, I’ve never been into astrology. I used to read it when I was younger like in an magazine, but it was always just for fun.

27. Would you rather chew gum or use mouthwash and why? Chew gum. Mouthwash is way too strong to me and I find it irritating for my mouth and yeah it’s just not a pleasant experience.

28. Do you floss? No. :X

29. Are you addicted to napster like me? Okay, now you’ve mentioned Napster so this survey is super old. Napster was like late 90s and early 2000s.

30. How many times a year about are you sick? I rarely get things like a cold, which I find interesting because I feel like my immune system is crap, but I feel sick and crappy often for other reasons.

31. Ever been in an airplane? Yes, a few times.

32. If so where were you flying to? Georgia and back and to Disneyland and back.

33. What radio station to you listen to most? It’s been a few years since I’ve listened to the radio.

34. What color are your shoes? I wear my black Adidas the most.

35. Was fuzzy wuzzy a bear? He was. He had no hair, though, so he wasn’t actually fuzzy.

36. Do you know how to play dominos? I’ve never really played.

37. Or do you think I just mean pizza by that? No, I know what dominos are.

38. Speaking of pizza, what's your favorite kind? (toppings and/or place to get it from) My favorite is from this local place. I like to get white sauce, feta and ricotta cheese, crumbled meatballs, garlic, spinach, and pesto and olive oil drizzles. I’ve been really craving that lately.

39. What color are your eyes? Brown.

40. How many surveys have you filled out this lifetime? Oh pffffft, I am not even going to attempt to figure that out. There’s no way I could. I’ve been doing surveys for so long and sadly so many of them are gone because they were done on Myspace and Xanga. :(

41. Describe your bedroom, include all details. Okay, you want details? Here we go...

It’s small and has way too much stuff. For one thing, there’s giraffe stuffed animals all over, including a 4 ft one in the corner. There’s a dresser by the window that has my TV and Christmas decorations on it. To the right of that is a 6-cube shelf with some of the aforementioned giraffe stuffed animals as well as giraffe knickknacks, some coloring books and coloring supplies, a mini Christmas tree on top, a few more giraffe stuffed animals, a nice picture frame with my dog, Brandie, who passed away, and my BB8 droid I made at Disneyland. Above the shelf is an I Love Lucy wall clock. My closest is nearby and is full of medical supplies, 3-drawer file thing with random stuff I insist on holding onto, my shoes, and all my jackets and sweatshirts. To the left of my dresser is my bookshelf with a lot of books and other figurines and knickknacks of various things I like and hey surprise, surprise, more giraffe stuffed animals! Across from the bookshelf and dresser is my bed, which is also my desk cause I keep my laptop on it, my chargers, my phone, a coloring book, a couple packs of colored pencils, my Bible study stuff, my remotes, and my Nintendo Switch. I have a pile of clothes, too, cause dresser and closet are too full. I have like 8 throw pillows, a body pillow, a back pillow, and a couple actual pillows. I have a few stuffed animals that sit on my bed as well, which are a huge squishmallow giraffe, a small squishmallow pug, a small squishmallow Dumbo, a small squishmallow Baby Yoda/Grogu, and a Baby Yoda/Grogu plushie. To the right of my bed is a TV tray that has my bottles of water, my medicine and pill crusher, a box of straws, a glass, a Starbucks Doubleshot energy drink, chapstick, my wallet, a Zip-loc bag with half a glazed donut and half a chocolate one, and a small bag of shortbread cookies. Behind the TV tray is my 3-drawer bedside table, which has a makeup storage thing on it that I plan on cleaning out and getting rid of cause I don’t wear makeup anymore and could use that space for something else, a bottle of lotion, a couple little room sprays from B&BW, and a jewelry tray. Hung up on my walls around the room are a few giraffe framed paintings, a couple beachy canvas paintings, two Alexander Skarsgard calendars, a bulletin board with various stuff pinned to it, and a marker board. There’s also a hamper in here, a floor lamp, a ceiling fan/light, two fans, and an ottoman.

42. Name one person your life is made better by. My mom. She’s my best friend.

44. How about someone else's? Huh?

45. Can you do math with ease? Ha, noooo. Me and math never got along.

46. What size is your computer screen? It’s 13.3 inches.

47. If you could only talk to one person online who would that be? Someone from the survey community on here.

48. Name your favorite type of music and why. I like a variety of music--various genres and decades.

49. Are you a vegetarian? No.

50. How about an aspiring actor/actress? Not at all.

51. What famous person dead or alive would you interview if you had the chance? Alexander Skarsgard.

52. Which movie can you watch and say the lines along with the actors? There’s a lot of movies I could do that with. I try not to cause it gets annoying, but it happens.

53. Name one of your passions in life. I don’t know. :/

54. What's your least favorite time of day? Evening time.

55. Who's your favorite member in a band, singer, guitarist, bassist, drummer, and why? The singer, typically.

56. Do you use hairspray or gel? I use neither.

57. Describe your favorite meal. Wingstop’s boneless garlic parm and lemon pepper wings. I also really enjoy my nightly bowl of ramen.

58. What color is the inside of your head when you close your eyes? Black.

59. Ever listen to classical music? Not typically, but it is nice.

60. Have you ever said lol in real life without thinking about it? No.

61. Do you find you use internet language when writing notes irl? I use “wtf, “wth”, “omg”, and “lol.”

62. What songs would be on your ideal cd? Like I said, I like variety, so a mix of songs.

63. Say one thing you've learned today. Nothing, really.

64. What is the best present you've ever given someone else? I don’t know.

65. What is the best present someone else has ever given to you? I’ve been given many nice gifts throughout my life. I’m appreciative of all the gifts I’ve received.

66. So hey, what's your full name? Stephanie is all you need to know.

67. Describe yourself while drunk. I was chatty and annoying.

68. How big are the windows in your house? Regular, common size? .

69. Do you wear a watch? Nope.

70. What's the kinkiest thing you've ever done with someone else? Nothing.

71. What's the largest age difference between you and someone you've dated? Just a year.

72. How many mirrors do you have? Just one in my room.

73. Write one sentence stating what you want people to say about you after you've passed on. I don’t know, man.

74. Have you ever sailed? Nope.

75. How fast can you run? I used to be able to go pretty fast, but not now. I don’t have the upper body strength or energy I used to have.

76. What do you believe in? I believe in God.

77. How long does it take you to get ready to go out? Not long at all. I just change clothes, quickly do something with my hair, brush my teeth, put on deodorant, put on my shoes, and then grab my bag and mask and go. And a coat if needed.

78. Do you shower daily? If not how often? No, I shower 3-4 times a week.

79. What one thing would you change in your life if you had the power to do so? I’d make it so I had good health.

80. Describe the ideal superpower and what you would do if you had it. Teleportation. I’d travel all over.

81. Are candles romantic or a fire hazard? They can be both.

82. Name something you've done in the last 24hrs no matter how big or small. I had coffee and donuts. Exciting stuff.

83. Do you wear necklaces, bracelets, anklets, earrings, rings? I haven’t worn any in awhile.

84. What colors are you wearing right now? Just black.

85. How often do you change the sheets on your bed? Twice a month.

86. Have you ever gotten lost? Not alone, thankfully, but yeah.

87. What's on your computer desk? I mentioned in the question about my room that my bed is also my desk and I listed the things on it.

88. How many folders are on your desktop at the present moment? Zero.

89. When your talking do you ever use your hands to do quotation marks in the air when saying certain words? Sometimes, if I find it necessary to do so.

90. Which landmark would you climb if you could? None.

91. Do you own or have you read, or thought of reading any self-help books? I read the Chicken Soup For The Soul books when I was younger but that's it. <<< Same.

92. Ever seriously questioned your sanity? Yes. 93. Can you breakdance? No.

94. What's in your fridge right now? Food and drinks. I’m tired from listing everything in that room description question lol.

95. How many people do you live with? I live with 3 people and a doggo.

96. Have you or would you ever do anything more than kiss in a public area? No.

97. What is the strangest thing you've ever done? Uhhh. I don’t know.

98. Name an instrument you've never played but would like to. Guitar.

99. Have you ever been on tv or the radio? Myself, as well as my story, was on TV after my accident happened.

100. What is the worst thing anyone could ever do to you? Physically hurt me.

101. Are you a fast typer? Yes.

102. How high have you counted before getting bored? I don’t know, but probably not very high. I probably would get to 100 and be over it.

103. Describe how you sleep. (ie. your position and/or how you fall asleep) I sleep slightly propped up and turned to my left side. I have indigestion and post-nasal drip issues, so I can’t sleep flat. I have a whole nighttime routine consists of scrolling through Tumblr, doing surveys, and listening to ASMR until I feel tired enough to fall asleep.

104. Are you straight, bi, gay? I’m straight.

105. Do you ever do something else while on the computer? If so what? Sometimes I’m watching TV.

106. What is the most expensive item you own? My MacBook Air.

107. How about the least expensive? My little knickknacks.

109. What do you do online? Check my social medias, watch YouTube, scroll through Tumblr, and do surveys.

110. Name some stores you've bought clothes in before. Boxlunch, Hot Topic, Kohl’s, JCP, Target, H&M, Macy’s, Forever 21... those are a few that come to mind.

111. Have you ever read a book and not understood it? If so which one? I struggled with mythology. I just couldn’t get into it, so that definitely didn’t help, and it was hard to follow.

112. Have you ever watched a movie and not understood it? If so which one? Yeah. Whenever that happens I jump on Google and read up on it afterwards.

113. Do people pick up your slang language more than you pick up theirs? I pick up lingo from others most often.

114. Are you easily influenced by other people, or current trends? No, I wouldn’t say that.

115. What makes you unique in your own opinion? I don’t feel very unique.

116. Name your worst quality. Where to start... .

117. Name your best. I like that I’m open-minded.

118. What would you like to do with your life? I need to get myself together and figure that out.

119. Do you blowdry your hair? Nah.

120. How many clocks are in your house? We have like 3 wall clocks and there’s digital clocks throughout the house on appliances and electronics.

121. Are they all set on the same time? The phones and electronics are. The others are a few minutes fast. My parents set their digital clock like 15 minutes fast.

122. Have you ever intentionally set a clock ahead or behind the actual time? Like I said, we set some of them a few minutes ahead.

123. What do you think about when you first wake up in the morning? "What time is it?"

124. Which browser do you use? Google Chrome.

125. Do you bite your nails? Ugh, I don’t bite them but I pick and clip at them with clippers constantly.

126. Would you ever leave little notes to your gf/bf? Sure, I think that’s cute.

127. Ever been to a farm? Yes.

128. Tell me about your dream last night. I don't remember. I rarely ever do. What typically happens is I’ll remember when I first get up, but then it like vanishes. My dreams are like Snapchat. If only there was an option to save or screenshot them like Snapchat.

129. Ever seen a shooting star? No, actually.

130. Say one thing about yourself you've never told anyone. Uhhhh. I’m so boring, I can’t think of something interesting to share.

131. Do your days fly by or seem to last forever? It often seems like the days go by slow, but then before I know it it’s already been a whole week again and I’m like wtf it was just Monday? That’s how the years tend to feel, too. There’s definitely some days that just really seem draaaaag, though. And there’s something about January that always feels super long.

132. Have you ever stayed in a fancy high class rich hotel? Yes. 133. Have you ever stayed in a rent-by-the-hour motel? No.

134. What in your opinion is the best advertising slogan out there? If they get stuck in your head then they’re doing something right. It’s gotta be catchy. Jingles work well.

135. When they start sending rockets to the moon for us civilians, will you be on the list to go? Noooo, absolutely not.

136. How are you feeling right now? Tired, kinda hungry, and lonely.

137. Have you ever written anything on your skin? Yeah.

138. If so what? Random stuff. That was something a lot of people seemed to do in like middle school and high school for some reason.

139. Which website do you frequent most often? Tumblr and YouTube.

140. What color are most of your clothes? Black.

141. Do you own any plants? Nope.

142. Are things as bad as they seem? They sure seem bad to me.

143. Describe the nicest thing anyone has ever done for you. My mom is amazing. She’s sacrificed so much. I’m 31 years old and require aid with some things and here she is still taking care of me and doing so much for me on top of working a full-time job, being a caregiver for a family friend as well, taking care of us as a family and of things at home, and she very rarely has anytime for herself. She’s spread very thin and works so hard and yeah I just could never thank her enough. She’s the absolute best and I would be so lost without her. I couldn’t keep going if it weren’t for her.

144. Ever looked directly at the sun? Yes.

145. Have you ever made a pin hole camera to watch the eclipse? No.

146. What's your favorite cereal? All the main sugary ones, ha.

147. Who do you miss? My loved ones who have passed away.

148. Name something you just can't forget no matter how hard you try. Uh, a lot of things. My mind doesn’t like me to forget things like that. It likes to remind me of them often. Things like that hit at random times as well, like my brain will be like, ‘hey remember when...’ and I’m like, ‘ugh, yes I remember you won’t let me forget.’

149. Describe the worst fight you've ever been in whether physical or verbal. I’ve never been in a physical fight, but there were some verbal ones. I don’t want to get into them right now.

150. Say something else about yourself you've never told anyone before. Noooo.

#personal #text #survey #surveys #150 questions

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miracleboiz · 4 years

Text

Making a Home Ch. 10

Kita Shinsuke had experienced a lot in life. He had been raised with his grandmother, a loving foster parent and for some time he followed in her foot steps before finding his own path. He thought his foster care license had expired before getting a call at three am with two small boys thrust into his arms. Miya Osamu and Atsumu, from broken homes but still fighting. Thirty days before his license expires. Thirty days to make a choice, keep the boys or let them be separated into different homes. Thirty days to fall in love with them.

Words: 3k

Relationships: Gen

Warnings: Mention of past child abuse, non-graphic abuse

Not from Kita, but it is mentioned. I will post any warnings before any panic attacks or vague descriptions of abuse.

Read below or on AO3

Shinsuke didn’t look up as the doorbell rang again, letting Oikawa move past him to greet whoever had come in. Instead he and Osamu had Azumane on his knees in the back corner office while Osamu did his best to braid a ribbon into the long stips. Azumane still looked a little traumatized from having a four foot tall child run up to him and yell the question at him to braid his hair.

“Are you sure… This is highly unprofessional.” Azumane said, glancing up at his boss.

Shinsuke was moving the drawings on the back wall to clear up more space and barely gave Azumane a quick flick of his eyes before he was shrugging. He didn’t say that as long as Osamu was smiling he would let him do anything, he didn’t think it needed saying aloud.

“My store, my rules. And I think you’re meeting the dress code just fine.” Shinsuke hummed, trying not to laugh at Azumane’s defeated sigh.

“We have a dress code?” Sugawara’s voice made Azumane whine a little louder as the silver haired man crouched down to offer Osamu a new clip to slide into the braided ribbons before moving to the thread wall. Azumane gave him a look of despair as the butterfly was quickly added to his hair, Shinsuke only felt a little guilty that it was probably starting to get unnaturally heavy. Not nearly enough to stop Osamu though

“Yes, it specifically states not to wear anything Oikawa considers to be good.” Shinsuke turned, ignoring the laughter that broke from Sugawara as the pounding of feet reached him. Seconds later Atsumu burst through the gateway.

“ ‘Samu! I’m getting married.” The words made Shinsuke drop the drawings immediately as he scrambled to understand what was going on. He twisted to stare open mouthed at Atsumu, completely speechless as the child rushed at his brother and skittered to a stop in front of him.

“Why?” Osamu looked as confused and terrified as Shinsuke himself felt. Atsumu either didn’t notice or didn’t care because he just held up a box with a bright oversized grin.

“ ‘Cuz if I marry him then I get all the cookies always!” Atsumu chirped, eyes wide with wonder and delight. Shinsuke slowly turned his head to blink at Azumane and Sugawara, both of them were already looking to him for answers.

“Akagi…” Shinsuke called, letting his eyes fall shut as he heard Akagi’s squeaky answer from outside of the back office. He moved around the boys, pausing only enough to brush Atsumu’s hair down from the wind, and looked to find Akagi attempting to hide behind a rack.

“I left you alone with him for…” He glanced at the clock and then back over. “An hour and a half. And now he’s getting married?”

Akagi looked momentarily ashamed before shrugging and holding up a box of baked goods. He smiled pleasantly over the box, attempting to flutter his lashes sweetly but it did nothing against Shinsuke’s annoyed glare.

“It’s not my fault.” Akagi whined, pitching his voice up and making a few customers glance over. He quieted when Shinsuke’s eyes narrowed but his pout only grew stronger as he huffed.

“I didn’t tell Shinji-kun to give him an extra muffin. He just did it and said he liked Atsumu’s shirt, then Atsumu was declaring their engagement to everyone. I thought I was going to have to fight Takahiro-kun for his son’s honor.”

Shinsuke watched him before sighing and glancing back at the twins. They had joined Azumane on the ground and were currently sharing pieces of muffin with him while Sugawara finished grabbing the fabric he’d actually come in for.

“I think Asahi’s already planning the wedding outfits,” Sugawara said breezily as he moved past and back to his customer.

“I’m not making enough money to deal with all of you at the same time.” Shinsuke said softly, wondering if this was going to be his life.

Running after Akagi to keep him from accidentally traumatizing Shinsuke’s kids, or worse teaching them things to traumatize all of the adults in their life. Meanwhile, Sugawara had found Oikawa and was currently harassing him with a perfectly innocent smile while he tailored a customer’s pant leg. Azumane had grabbed his tablet and was sketching something out while Atsumu was being taught by his brother how to continue the endless braids on Azumane’s head.

In all honesty, a life like this… was a good one. The feeling was sweet, winding in Shinsuke’s stomach as he watched the scene and he wondered if that was why his grandmother had never given up on foster care. Children weren’t necessary for his life to be happy, he was happy before they had arrived and if they left he would still find his life fulfilling and what he wanted. Yet, they brought something new, something light that Shinsuke was hesitant to give up. He could nurture them, protect them, help them grow and the option was more enticing by the minute.

“Oh shit you’re smiling… I’m going to die… Goodbye my sweet ‘Mimi, goodbye my muscular boo Aran, farewell my darling nephews- Shinsuke where are you going? You know my dramatic monologue needs an audience. Don’t make me download TikTok to get attention, you know I’ll do it.” Akagi called softly as Shinsuke took the box of treats before turning and walking away, a fondly exasperated smile playing on his lips. Shinsuke raised a hand to dismiss his remarks, ignoring the whine that rose up.

“Go help one of the customers, I have kids to watch.” Shinsuke said, slipping into the office to watch Atsumu finish his first braid. It was terrible and unbalanced and Shinsuke was proud of him.

“Hey, did you want to meet the others and bring them their muffins?” Shinsuke asked the two of them, holding up Akagi’s box in explanation. Both of them lit up, smiling brightly as they nodded and reached their hands up eagerly for Shinsuke to take them.

The day passed rather quickly, especially after the length of the day before, and as seven o’clock hit Shinsuke was flipping off the last light in the shop. Azumane and Sugawara had left only a few minutes before and Akaashi had escaped a few hours ago. Oikawa was still on the phone with someone but he gave Shinsuke a thumbs up and mimed locking the door as he passed.

Atsumu had already snuck back into the house and was curled up on the couch with Kitty as he played through ‘Spyro’. Osamu on the other hand, had decided he was in charge of Akagi for the day and was enjoying bossing him around.

Still, Shinsuke hadn’t expected to walk into the office between the two buildings to see Akagi on the floor and Osamu in front of him. Osamu was doing his absolute best to explain how to draw a flower for a card and Akagi was either intentionally harassing him or genuinely had no idea what he was doing. Shinsuke watched from the doorway for a moment before deciding it was a little bit of both.

More than a few doodles decorated the floor, markers and crayons laying beside both of their knees while they leaned over Akagi’s current project. Each one was decorated with rather… adorable characters for ‘cheer up’ and ‘you’re doing great’. Shinsuke honestly had no idea what it was for or why Osamu was making Akagi make them but as long as they were having fun he wasn’t going to say anything.

“No, no, you have to make petals- Shinsuke-san!” Osamu chirped as he felt eyes on his back and turned to see him. He grinned, a bright and free smile, and pointed at Akagi who was still just drawing lines on his paper.

“We’re making cards for Azumane! So when he gets scared he can look at these and know it’s okay!” Osamu explained and Shinsuke’s heart melted. He moved over, gently mussing the hair and trying not to give in to the urge to kiss his head.

“That’s great, Osamu. Will you be helping me with dinner tonight as well?” He asked, heart swelling at the way Osamu’s eyes lit up and the child twisted to grab ahold of his hand.

“Can I?”

“Of course. But you need to clean up all of this before we can. So why don’t you help Akagi clean up and then we can get started?” Shinsuke offered and Osamu nodded. He turned to Akagi, hands on his hips.

“C’mon Oji-san! Let’s get this taken care of! Then I can show you how to cook so you’re not hungry anymore.”

Shinsuke laughed softly, making his way inside as Akagi insisted he knew how to cook. Between himself and Osamu, Akagi might actually leave the country with basic knowledge to feed himself instead of eating out constantly.

Shinsuke glanced over at the couch as he walked in, noting Atsumu’s curled-up position. As attached to his brother as he was, Atsumu hadn’t really branched out much and didn’t seem to connect with people as well as his brother. Even with his comment about marriage (though Shinsuke still thought it was rather cute he had forgotten that money was a thing that he could use to buy pastries and instead skipped straight to marriage) he hadn’t brought up Shinji-kun or the bakery again all day.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” Shinsuke asked softly, waiting for Atsumu’s nervous glance and jerky head nod. “Thank you, Atsumu… Can I check on your cheek?”

This time Atsumu fully froze, pressing the pause button on the game. His eyes darted to Shinsuke before he slowly nodded his head, anxiety clear in his gaze. Despite seeming to finally relax and branch out, Atsumu wasn’t actually asking for what he wanted. Instead he was letting his brother lead them around and following along happily with whatever adult offered him something.

Shinsuke moved closer until he could gently tilt up the child’s head, looking over the dark purple skin carefully. Atsumu’s eye didn’t seem affected by it and it was healing well for only being the second day. Though Shinsuke could see that it was slightly swollen, the skin around it pink and irritated like someone had been prodding it.

“Does it hurt much?” Shinsuke asked as he pulled his hand back with a quiet thank you.

“I’ve had worse.” Atsumu said and Shinsuke noticed he didn’t answer the question. Atsumu turned his head away as Shinsuke tried to look closer, a frown on his own lips.

“Atsumu, were you touching it?” He kept his voice light and gentle so Atsumu wouldn’t think he was in trouble. Regardless the child flinched subtly, fingers grasping the controller tighter.

“The… the people in the shop… kept staring…” Atsumu confessed after a few heartbeats, shaking slightly. “I wanted to make them go away but… It just… made it worse…”

Shinsuke stared at him for a moment, feeling guilty for not noticing at all. Of course Atsumu would have been self conscious about his face especially with the memory of how it happened so fresh in his memory.

“Why didn't you say anything?” Shinsuke regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Of course Atsumu hadn’t said anything. He didn’t know he could trust anyone yet, it was only the second day there was no way he would have warmed up so quickly with his past.

Atsumu froze, shaking slightly and Shinsuke realized he was trying to hold his breath before he started crying. His mind blanked for a second before he rapidly told himself to calm down and instead focused on Atsumu.

“I’m sorry Atsumu. It’s alright if you don’t want to tell me things, I didn’t mean to imply otherwise…” Shinsuke started but it was clear that it wasn’t helping when Atsumu shook again with a ragged breath. “Atsumu…”

Shinsuke licked his lips, trying to think of how to calm him down before Osamu and Akagi finished. He didn’t want Atsumu shutting himself off to everyone to keep his brother happy and he definitely didn’t want Osamu to pick up on his brother’s panic and leave him with two anxious kids to calm down.

“Atsumu,” he started again letting his voice soften until it was near a whisper, “it’s alright. I’m sorry they were staring at you, next time you can come back inside if you want. I’m sorry I didn’t notice, I should have been there to help you. I’m very sorry I didn’t protect you.”

Atsumu’s gaze shot to him, once, twice, three times. The tiniest tears were forming at the edge of his eyes at his panic before confusion started to build instead. His mouth moved without words, and his eyes danced around the room. His fingers tapped at the controller for a moment before he finally seemed to be able to come back to himself.

“What…” His voice was a whisper and Shinsuke regretted not watching his words better. “Why… Why are you sorry?”

“Atsumu, it scared you right? Made you upset that they stared?” Shinsuke waited for the inevitable nod before continuing. “I should have stopped that but I didn’t realize it was happening. It’s my fault for not protecting you… Atsumu… A parent is supposed to protect you, I should have let you know you were allowed to leave earlier or let you know you could have stayed right next to me. And for that I’m sorry. The bruises on your face won’t go away by poking at them, they’ll just hurt worse and now it’s because I failed you. I’m sorry, Atsumu. I hope you can forgive me.”

Atsumu wasn’t able to speak, he just stared at Shinsuke. Choked noises came from his throat but no words escaped as he looked on with confusion and anxiety. The child swallowed, looking away a second later before rapidly nodding his head.

The only other time any adult had ever apologized had been when Kenma-kun said sorry for his game music being loud back at the police station. No adult had ever apologized to Atsumu for messing up and certainly none of his foster parents had ever bothered to ask him to forgive them.

Atsumu had no idea what to do with the knowledge or how to act. Did he say yes? Did he hug Shinsuke? Did he say sorry back? Cry? Smile?

He put the controller down slowly beside him, biting his lip as he turned to look more fully at Shinsuke. His foster parent actually looked remorseful, like he did really feel bad for not noticing Atsumu’s problem. Atsumu wasn’t really sure how to tell him that he was good at hiding it, and he had a feeling that would just make Shinsuke sad again. After all… Parents were supposed to love their kids right? Being hurt would make a parent sad and Shinsuke had said...

“You… Said...parent…” Atsumu said softly, flinching internally as Shinsuke blinked at him. He meant foster parent, of course he did. Atsumu shook his head, shoving away the hope and the heartache that was taking its place.

“It’s okay…” Atsumu said quickly as Shinsuke opened his mouth to say something. “Really… it’s okay. I… I… I’ll leave, next time.”

Shinsuke hesitated, wanting to push further but this wasn’t a teenager. This was a scared six year old who didn’t have the tools or the emotional maturity to talk through all of this in one sitting. They’d have to work at it. Together.

“Only if you want to.” Shinsuke murmured, tilting his head to look at the bruises again. “I’ll go get an ice pack for the swelling alright?”

Atsumu nodded, letting his gaze fall to the couch when Shinsuke left. He should have known better than to think Shinsuke actually thought of himself as their parent. He must have meant whichever parents decided to adopt them, if any did.

Yet….

Shinsuke-san was kind, was it bad of Atsumu to wish Shinsuke was his parent? That Shinsuke would decide to keep them after all instead of passing them off like a baton? Was Atsumu a bad person for not wanting Shinsuke to be disappointed in him for being weak? Was he betraying his future parents by wanting Shinsuke to stay with him and Osamu?

He jumped as he felt Shinsuke sitting down again, looking up to see him offering an ice pack in one hand and… The fish crackers that Atsumu had asked for at the store.

Shinsuke’s blank face softened and Atsumu was starting to realize that Shinsuke wasn’t blank so much as… quiet. You had to look further than just his frown to know what he was thinking.

“You didn’t eat much at lunch since you ate so many muffins, so I thought you might like them.” Shinsuke explained as he reached forward and placed the ice pack gently over Atsumu’s bruise. Atsumu shook slightly, the words escaping him again but Shinsuke didn’t seem to mind as he ruffled his hair.

“Are you okay? You just have to nod or shake your head, okay?” Shinsuke said, the corners of his lips lifting as Atsumu nodded his head and moved to hold the pack on his face. Shinsuke pushed off the couch after opening the box, turning back towards the shop.

“I’m going to go see what’s taking Osamu and Akagi so long okay?” He explained, moving a few steps towards the door. He glanced back when a soft noise came from Atsumu, taking in the blinking eyes that lingered on the spot beside him.

Atsumu didn’t want to be alone again. Part of him hated it, he’d only had Osamu for years. Why was it different now? Part of him wanted to call Shinsuke back, ask if he was allowed a hug… Ask if he could stay a little while longer so Atsumu could pretend Shinsuke cared about him more than the money, more than because a friend asked. So Atsumu could pretend a little longer he was wanted.

“Hey Atsumu?” Shinsuke called, waiting until he glanced up to make sure he heard. “After dinner, would you be okay with showing me how to play that minecraft game?”

Atsumu’s eyes lit up immediately and he nodded, the barest hint of a grin growing on his face. Shinsuke couldn’t help but smile back, finally turning to look for his wayward sons that probably were covering his walls in paint.

They had some more work to do. A lot more work really, but Atsumu was smiling and Osamu’s laughter was echoing from the office. Shinsuke couldn’t help but think that this was a very good life.

#haikyuu!!#HQ #Miya Atsumu #Miya Osamu #Kita Shinsuke #Arankita #Inarizaki #fanfiction #Fluff #Making a home AU

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