#i wasn’t expecting to run into that feeling again. it makes sense in hindsight though | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sustraiii · 28 days

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TEAM ZRCN EPILOGUE (WISTERIA)

Turns out you can't keep this woman down.

Wisteria

The last thing Wisteria could clearly remember was falling.

She could remember charging Miho, forcing herself and the larger woman over the balcony in the Rossi's base, falling in one final grapple before the ground rushed up to meet them. Her memory grew hazy after that, spotty and weakened by the immense pain. Her vision was blurry, the world span, and her body felt as though it were on fire.

Wisteria had never thought much about death before that moment. However, as she lay there, it seemed like an inevitable fate for her. The allies she had came here with were unlikely to come and fuss over her and ensure she wasn’t dying, or if they even considered it, then it would surely be at the bottom of their list of priorities.

Her memories become patchier then, sight and sound distorting, the pain reaching a point where her body starts to feel numb to it. At some point she swears she feels her body being pulled, she swears she sees a hand gripping hers, a voice assuring her that they would get out of this. Wisteria thinks she tries to respond but her tongue is heavy in her mouth and the words don’t seem to form. Slowly but surely the world grows darker and darker until she is engulfed by darkness.

Wisteria does not expect to wake up again. And somehow she does.

When her eyes slowly blink awake, she is startled by the brightness of the room, and it takes a moment for her eyes to full adjust to the light again. When her vision becomes clearer, she looks around, taking note of the room and trying to determine where she was. She finds herself unable to look too far, the movement of her head partly constricted by the neck brace she is wearing, but as far as she can tell she is in a hospital room of sorts.

It’s a very stark, austere room, coloured in mostly neutral tones save for the teal curtains and some sunflowers sitting at the bottom of her bed.

Odd, she thinks, but her mind is too hazy to make much sense of it beyond that.

Hers is the only bed in the room, a medical bed with all the fixings but surprisingly comfy. She is not actually lying down but has been propped up in bed, an adjustor sits off to the side which would allow her to recline the bed if she so wished, but is unable to reach it due to the cumbersome sling on her left arm.

The longer she is awake, unable to determine where she truly is, the more she starts to grow annoyed. Even the machines she’s hooked up to begin to annoy her, their beeps and whirs being of little comfort despite the fact they’ve likely been keeping her alive for goodness knows how long.

Wisteria is determined to get out of bed even though a small part of her begs her not to. Untucking the sheet, she finds one of her legs in a hefty cast but is not dissuaded from getting up. She decides she can just hobble around if needed until she finds the answers she is looking for.

The one thing that does give her pause is the growing aches and pains in her body. Now that she’s awake - or at least more alert - she is all the more aware of how much everything hurts.

She wishes she had something for the pain. Wishing that a doctor or nurse would walk through the doors, answer all her burning questions, and then give her medication for the pain. But nobody does, and she finds her annoyance growing at that.

What sort of place is this that they don’t have somebody watching me constantly? I’m a criminal - shouldn’t I be cuffed to the bed in case I tried to run away as I am now?

Wisteria’s body seems to cry out in pain when she sits up properly, easing her legs to the edge of the bed. She squashes it down for now still determined to get up and get some answers. Her feet touch the floor first and she shivers at the cold sensation against her bare skin. Wisteria is surprised she’s able to stand upright with no trouble but takes it in stride. In hindsight, she should have grabbed something to support herself before she began to walk in earnest, but emboldened by her ability to stand up straight, she took a step forward only to find her legs bucking beneath her.

She hits the floor hard, unable to catch herself with only one free arm, and lies there splayed on her belly. Something has ripped out of her free hand, making it bleed and also making one of the machines wail in alarm.

“Too…loud,” Wisteria says groggily. She isn’t sure if the sudden grogginess is from the earlier aches and pains or if she had hit her head as she fell.

The door to her room opens and a man steps inside. Somebody else follows though she cannot discern if they are man or woman.

“...pulled out her IV line. I will have to reinsert it. Are you able to get her back onto the bed?”

“Am I…dead?” Wisteria asks, rolling on her side to try and look at the man who had entered. He looks familiar, but she cannot quite put her finger on it.

“I don’t think I can. The last time was a struggle back in -”

Wait. Wisteria blinked. She knew that voice. She moved her head, trying to look for the other figure in the room.

“...Sparrow? Did they…get you too?”

Sparrow looked down at her with an unreadable expression. The man moved past her and called out beyond the door, asking for assistance from another person within this place. Wisteria heard another pair of footsteps approach and turned to try and get in a comfortable position to look.

Her eyes nearly popped out of her head when she saw who was stood in the doorway.

“How?” She echoes quietly, looking up at the figure.

He doesn’t answer but she does hear the other man present speak, informing the others that he needed to temporarily sedate her. Wisteria felt a prick in her side and her vision and thoughts started to grow hazy again. The last thing she sees before she blacks out is the face of Ulysses Crest staring down at her sympathetically.

“You’re dead…” Wisteria whispers, before her eyes snap shut.

***

Wisteria wakes up a few hours later and when she does, the man from earlier is standing nearby monitoring one of the machines. She hadn't recognised him fully before but now that she's slightly more alert she can absorb the features of his face. He's a tall, dark-skinned man, with neat dark brown hair, and deep azure blue eyes. His hair and stubble was flecked with grey

"Oh good, you're awake," He says, turning to look at her. "How are you feeling?

He's older than the last time she'd seen him but the name comes easily now - Giles Crest—the father of the three Crest siblings.

In truth, Wisteria only knew him sparingly, having resided at the O.R.C.A.S with his wife for a few overlapping months when Wisteria had first arrived with Nieve many years ago. Eventually, he and his wife left to return to Atlas, able to escape during a time when Alden was more lucid. Leaving when they did they were able to avoid a potential intervention from Belleza at least, who hated anyone trying to leave the family unless she gave permission which she never did. Wisteria recalled that Giles and his wife had tried to take their children with them, but Ulysses and his sisters had been so ingrained in the group that leaving was not such an easy option for them. Ulysses was close with Wisteria and Nieve, Theodora had taken up a role as the defacto nurse and carer in place of her father, and Euphemia stayed to keep an eye on her younger siblings.

"I've felt better," Wisteria finally responded. "I still feel sore but it's not as bad as before."

"Well, that is to be expected, I did give you some additional pain relief," Giles explained. "Your injuries were quite severe so you should expect the pain to linger for a while. Do you know where you are?”

Wisteria frowned, looking around the room. “A hospital in Atlas I assume?”

“Well, it's a clinic actually, but close enough,” Gile responded in good humour. “You're in my clinic in Argus. Sparrow brought you here.”

“They did?” Wisteria blinked in surprise. Despite her shock, it did line up with some of her hazy memories of an escape. “How?”

“Sparrow told me it had to do with their semblance. In all the commotion that was going on nobody noticed the two of you slipping away on an airship,” Giles answered.

Wisteria had to admit she was impressed and perhaps a little unsettled too. She had known Sparrow’s semblance deflected any attention away from themself, but she would never have suspected it to have been that powerful they eluded a whole base full of people. It made her curious just how long it had been that powerful and why Belleza had never kept Sparrow in her group of allies. But then again, subtlety was never really Belleza's style.

She continued to mull over this new information before asking another question.

"What's the damage, doc?" Wisteria asked. When he stared at her blankly, not quite understanding her question, she knew she needed to clarify. "My injuries. What are they? I assume they must have been bad due to, you know, the multiple casts on my body."

"Very severe indeed," Giles confirmed with a nod. "The most severe was your leg. You shattered your tibia - hence the cast on your leg - and needed surgery to correct it. You also fractured four ribs and your orbital bone. Your collarbone is broken too, which is why you are wearing a sling. Now that you're more alert though I'll swap it for a figure-of-eight brace. What else…oh yes, you sprained your right wrist but that should be fine now. There were also extensive cuts from the glass you fell through, one was very close to catching an artery in your neck."

Wisteria couldn't help but wince slightly as he listed off all her injuries. “Bit of a miracle I survived then.”

“If not for a bit of remaining aura when you fell, you most likely would be dead right now,” Giles confirmed.

Wisteria frowned. She knew the fact she had survived and escaped had been a marvel but hearing it out loud was slightly more jarring than she expected. Giles did seem to pick up on it, his features softening in sympathy.

“I understand it's a lot to take in right now,” Giles said.

“That's an understatement,” Wisteria mumbled.

“When the time comes, Capella is happy to sit and talk things through with you.”

Capella Crest - mother of the Crest siblings, and a noted psychiatric doctor in her own right. Wisteria couldn't help but roll her eyes. “Therapy, really?”

“Yes,” Giles responded flatly, a faint hint of annoyance in his tone, following Wisteria's dismissal of his suggestion of therapy. “You will need physical therapy for your leg alone. But speaking with my wife would do you no harm either. She seems to believe your mental health would benefit from it greatly.”

“I’m sure she would,” Wisteria grumbled. “Maybe she can talk me through how to deal with false grief.”

“Pardon?”

“You know, grief for someone who, as it turns out, had never really died in the first place.”

Giles looked away briefly, realising she was referring to Ulysses with that comment. “Ulysses has been wanting to speak with you but I advised him against it,” Giles explained, meeting her gaze again. “I told him you were not ready to process it.”

“Wise choice,” Wisteria said. “I’d advise you to tell him to continue to stay away. I have no desire to speak with him.”

***

Despite her wishes to have nothing to do with Ulysses, Wisteria found herself forced into spending a considerable amount of time with him, much to her great displeasure.

Confined to her bed due to her leg, Wisteria had nowhere to escape to when he came to keep her company. Ulysses tried to engage her in conversations but Wisteria held firm, refusing to budge on her wish to not speak with him. At most, they only made small talk, with Ulysses doing most of the talking, and Wisteria grunting or moving her head in response.

Even when not in her bed she finds she cannot escape him. As her physical therapy begins and the arduous task of learning to walk again also begins, Ulysses offers himself to walk with her on occasion. The first few times she outwardly refused, deciding she’d rather wait for her actual therapy session to try walking, rather than walk with him. However, she began to feel slightly stir-crazy either confined to her bed or the room she had her therapy in, so eventually swallowed her pride and allowed him to walk with her. At the very least, he was a sturdy presence, keeping her upright if she stumbled or lost her footing.

In the days she could not abide his company, she had Sparrow to also walk with. Wisteria finds it hard to talk with them initially. They had never been close but Wisteria had always respected and tolerated their presence within the Rossi's group, which was something few else seemed to do. As they took more walks together, they found more to talk about. Sparrow was actually quite talkative when they wanted to be and was happy to answer any and all questions Wisteria had about the daring escape from the Rossi base. It's quite a fascinating story and one which Wisteria listens to with interest.

Alas, the budding friendship between her and Sparrow is cut short, when Sparrow lets slip about their involvement in Nieve's death. It comes out rather unexpectedly, so when Sparrow revealed that they had been responsible for sharing where Nieve had been hiding out, Wisteria was unsure how to process the news at first. When it does sink in, she is greeted by anger. An argument breaks out in the corridor and Giles has to intervene and tell them to step away lest they disturb any more of his patients.

Wisteria refuses to speak with Sparrow for days after that, even actively seeking out Ulysses to walk with rather than speak with Sparrow. Eventually, she calms down slightly, if only to tell Sparrow she needs to think things over in regard to where their friendship stood.

She manages to accept Sparrow's sincere apologies at least. Recognising that Sparrow had never intended for such an outcome to happen, nor had been aware of such a possibility. It spoke of a certain degree of naivety on Sparrow's behalf, but Wisteria could acknowledge that Sparrow’s lack of personal involvement with Belleza played into her belief that Belleza would not have killed Nieve.

It is on one of the days following the argument that Wisteria is unintentionally drawn into conversation with Ulysses. She is resting in the living room of the Crest's house which sat next door to their clinic. It's the only room of the house she is happy to go in, providing a welcome change of scenery from the clinic but also ensuring she didn't overstep into the lives of the Crests.

“Still giving Sparrow the silent treatment?” Ulysses asked, startling her out of the book she was reading.

Wisteria gave him a tired expression before shrugging.

Ulysses hovered nearby and though she was not looking at him, Wisteria could tell he was building up to speak with her again.

“Can we talk?” He asked.

“You're talking now,” Wisteria pointed out, idly turning a page.

“I meant together,” Ulysses said, taking a seat on the adjoining sofa next to her. “We can't keep avoiding each other, Wisteria.”

“Well, that's a you problem. As for myself, I’m perfectly happy to keep ignoring you.”

Ulysses groaned out loud. From the corner of her eye, she could see him pinch the bridge of his nose quickly before releasing it. “Look, I’m not saying we have to be friends again, I just want to explain what happened on Shizukana and how I got here.”

Wisteria closed her book with a satisfying snap. "Quite frankly, Ulysses, I don't want to hear it. I cannot understate how little of a shit I give about how you faked your death all these months.”

“Please just-”

“No!” Wisteria cut him off with a glare. “We mourned for you!”

Ulysses looked down at his knees solemnly. “I know…”

“You don't know anything, Ulysses,” Wisteria sneered. “You've been hiding away like a little coward all this time. You have no idea what we went through.”

“Do you recall those messages from Theodora to Nieve?” He suddenly asked.

Wisteria's anger falters ever so slightly, thrown by the mention of the conversations Nieve had secretly been having. “I - what!?”

“It was never Theodora she was speaking to,” Ulysses explained. He lifted his head and looked her in the eye. “It was me.”

Wisteria sucked in a breath and shook her head. “N-No!” She snapped. “I saw those messages! It clearly said Theodora!”

Ulysses gave her a bitter smile. “Do you have any idea how easy it is to clone someone's scroll if you have the right technology?” As he continued to speak, Wisteria remained quiet, the realisation of what he was saying slowly starting to sink in. “I cloned Theodora’s scroll. She knew, of course, as did Euphemia. It was necessary given the sensitive subject matter we needed to discuss.”

“What like your death?” Wisteria said sarcastically.

“That and other things,” Ulysses responded. Slowly, he got to his feet. “Stay here. It will be easier to explain if I show you.” He leaves the room quickly, shutting the door behind him before heading upstairs, the creak of the floorboards above her alerting her to roughly where he was.

Wisteria does as he requests but the entire time she waits she is of half a mind to run out of the house. If not for her still recovering leg she thinks she might have been able to get pretty far. She can hear footsteps coming down the stairs again and realises he is coming back. When he enters the living room again, she sits straight up, eager to see what he would be bringing with him.

No amount of preparation would have prepared for what happened next.

Ulysses sat back down where he had before and in his arms was a child. They weren't very old, maybe a year or just under if she had to make an educated guess. Wisteria almost asked whose child it was, but seeing how Ulysses fussed over them, she already knew he must have had a connection to them.

“I’d like you to meet River Crest,” He said, turning the baby so that she was facing Wisteria. “She is mine and Nieve’s daughter.”

Wisteria's eyes merely widen and she looks hard at the child. A small part of her wants to laugh at how ludicrous this all sounds, but the longer she looks, the easier it is to see parts of Nieve looking back at her. Although her hair was a darker grey and her skin a touch darker than Nieve's was, Wisteria could see most of Nieve's colouring in the child. River's eyes were more of a pale periwinkle colour, a mix between Nieve's and Ulysses's eye colours. More interestingly, River's fingertips were slightly grey, much like how Nieve's were indicating to Wisteria that the girl was a spider faunus like her mother.

“How? How is this possible?” Wisteria asked, gesturing to River. She knew there were at least five months where she wasn’t present in Nieve’s life due to working closely with the Rossi’s and wanting to protect Nieve who had fled at that point, but surely if Nieve had been pregnant during that time she would have known about it or seen some sort of sign.

“River was born two months after the events on Shizukana,” Ulysses explained.

“Two months after Shizukana!?” Wisteria echoed, unable to believe what she was hearing. If she were able to, she might have jumped to her feet and started pacing around the room. Unfortunately, such a task was not as easy with her leg still in a cast. “No, you can’t be serious. Nieve would have been showing by then, I would have known!”

Ulysses gave her a sympathetic smile. “It’s not unheard of for some women to not know they are pregnant for some time. Nieve was one of those women.”

Wisteria still couldn’t believe any of what he was saying. Of course, some of it did make sense, but it still seemed unbelievable.

“We would have told you.”

Wisteria looked up, narrowing her eyes. “Oh yes, I’m sure you would have eventually,” She said. “Tell me Ulysses when exactly when this was going to happen? When you came out of hiding? On the unlikely chance that I somehow managed to escape the Rossi’s on my own?”

“We were thinking of the baby too!” Ulysses protested. “Belleza could not know about her. We needed to keep her safe.”

“I could have helped!” Wisteria retorted, surprised to find just how upset she suddenly found herself. “I would have protected all three of you.”

“What, like you protected Nieve?” Ulysses fired back a little too quickly. He seemed to realise the error of his words quickly at least, blinking rapidly before shooting her an apologetic glance. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Wisteria ignored him and went for her crutches, quickly pulling herself to her feet. She tucked the crutches under her arms to help support herself and began to hobble towards the door.

“Wisteria please don’t go,” Ulysses begged, turning in his seat to follow her as she walked.

“Shut up!” She snapped quickly, speaking with a soft voice so as not to disturb River too much. “I’m done talking, Ulysses. I don't want to talk to you again whilst I’m here. As soon as I've recovered, I’m leaving and you will never see me again.”

Wisteria manages to get outside of the house without any further intervention from Ulysses. As soon as she's outside, she manages a few steps forward before she stops. She tries to keep it together but she can't. Tears stream down her cheeks and she sniffs. She won't stop the tears but that does not mean she wants anyone to see her, so as she begins to walk again, Wisteria makes an effort to keep her face hidden, not wanting anyone to stop her and ask if anything was wrong.

It takes eight months for Wisteria to finally feel something like herself again. Eight months of grueling physical and mental therapy.

In that time, River had her first birthday, which turned out to be a quiet and simple affair. And in that time Wisteria did actually start to talk with both Sparrow and Ulysses. It took a few weeks, but Wisteria had finally swallowed her pride, realising her recovery time would pass quicker if she did not alienate them entirely and actually try to understand what they had both been through. The conversations weren't exactly long - especially those with Ulysses - but it was something at least.

Once she had been given the all clear, Giles and Capella were content to let her go on her way. They were kinda enough to help her out with some supplies for when she eventually set out, but luckily Wisteria had plenty of lien saved up that she wouldn't be struggling for a while. The only thing she was less certain about was where to go. Wisteria had had enough of Atlas for a lifetime, but it had been many years since she had experienced Mistral proper, especially the settlements beyond the main city. Wisteria would love to see Mistral again as an adult. She did not remember much of her childhood, with many memories trapped under years of abuse, but she did recall that she had been raised outside of the city. When she had been sent to live with her caretakers she moved to the lower city and then after her escape had roamed the streets. She often wondered where she truly came from.

On her soon-to-be journey through Mistral, she was not going to be alone. Sparrow had offered themselves to accompany her - for a little while at least - once Wisteria was more amenable to the idea. It had taken some time, and plenty of lengthy conversations, for them to even be on decent terms again. Strangely, Wisteria had found Sparrow's apologies to be easier to accept as they weren't constantly trying to rationalise it.

On the day Wisteria planned to leave, she enjoyed an early breakfast with the Crests and Sparrow, before gathering together her supplies. It wasn't much, as she had only come to this place with her scroll more or less, and what items she did have to take with her had accumulated during her time here. One of the more precious items were two polaroids - one from over a year ago with herself, Nieve, and Ulysses in it, and another of baby River. Wisteria hadn't wanted to accept the latter gift at first, still wary of getting close to the child, but she had secretly kept it.

After gathering most of her things together, Wisteria left a small bag at the bottom of the stairs. Midway through her recovery she had taken one of the remaining spare bedrooms in the Crest's house to complete her recuperation.

She was about to head back upstairs and go in search of Sparrow when she heard a little cough behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see Ulysses standing there.

“Today's the day, hmm?”

“Today's the day,” Wisteria repeated in confirmation.

Ulysses briefly looked at her bag and then back up at her. “Are you leaving now?”

“I need to see if Sparrow is ready, but yes, we will be leaving soon,” Wisteria responded.

“I see,” Ulysses nodded. “Well, if you can spare the time, there was something I wished to speak to you about before you left.”

Wisteria raised a brow, curious about what he meant before shrugging. “I think I could spare a moment or two once I’ve found Sparrow. Did you need me to meet you somewhere in the house?”

“Oh no, we don't need to meet anywhere specific,” Ulysses assured her. “Just here is fine. I’ll wait for you.”

Wisteria nodded and then made her way up the stairs. She peeked inside the room Sparrow had been staying in but couldn't see them. Feeling a little emboldened, Wisteria opened the doors of some of the other rooms, peeking inside but still finding no luck.

“Sparrow…?” Wisteria called, genuinely curious where they might have been.

“I’m out here, Wisteria.” A voice called from within Sparrow's room. Wisteria pushed inside again, recalling there was a small balcony in that room as well as one in River’s room. Whilst the balcony in River's room looked down onto a small park beyond the house, the one in Sparrow's room looked out upon the south of the city and the expansive Thalassa Bay. The sea view might have been genuinely pleasant if not for the Atlesian military outpost sticking out like a sore thumb. At least there were nicer beaches tucked away to the immediate west of the town, which were probably much more appealing to spend time at.

“Are you re-Woah!” Wisteria was about to ask if Sparrow was ready to go, but was caught by surprise when Sparrow straightened up from leaning over the balustrade and she saw their hair. As long as she had known Sparrow, she had always known them to wear their hair in a long, elaborate plait down their back. Now, they had gone for a much shorter look, having quite literally chopped off their plait in favour of going for a messy pixie cut. And it was a recent choice too, as Sparrow had worn their hair in a plait at breakfast.

“Did you, uh, do that yourself?” Wisteria asked, gesturing to their hair.

Sparrow chuckled, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “Yeah. Do you think it suits me?”

Wisteria inclined her head to get a better look. Despite the messiness, it did suit them. It exposed the old burn scars that crept up their neck and accentuated the sharp features of their face. It also drew the eye to the new single earring they wore - a small clear gem, dangling on a gold chain.

“It actually does,” Wisteria told them.

“Maybe I can cut yours for you too?” Sparrow suggested jokingly.

Wisteria smirked. “Actually, Sparrow, I think I might grow mine out.” Wisteria had always kept her hair fairly short, but it had grown a little during her recovery. Whilst she would consider neatening it up at some point, she actually did not mind the length.

“There's one other thing I'd like to change,” Sparrow said.

“Hmm?”

“I think I’d like to go back to being Ximenia again.”

Wisteria turned to look at Sparrow and raised a brow. Ximenia?

“That’s my name,” Sparrow responded. “Or it was before, you know, everything happened.”

“‘Ximenia’, huh?” Wisteria considered the name for a moment. “I always just assumed Sparrow was your actual name.”

“Just a nickname,” Ximenia confirmed. “It was Marcel’s fault. He used to say I was small and flighty like a little sparrow. After a while it just stuck, I guess, and we never saw the point to correct Belleza when we ended up working for the Rossis.”

“Well, I like it,” Wisteria smiled, giving Ximenia a nudge. “It suits you. Like the hair.”

Ximenia smiled, appearing truly grateful for the comment. “I’ve got to meet Ulysses downstairs,” Wisteria explained. “If you’re ready just meet me down there and we’ll go once he’s finished talking.”

“Okay,” Ximenia nodded. “That’ll give me a minute to get my things together.”

Leaving Ximenia on their own, Wisteria headed downstairs where Ulysses was still waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. She tried to look at his body language and gauge how he was feeling to try and determine what he wanted to speak about but had no such luck.

“You wanted to talk?” Wisteria prompted him once she reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Yes,” Ulysses said. Wisteria was waiting for him to continue talking when suddenly he handed her a manila folder he had been holding behind his back.

“Oh,” Wisteria said, taking the folder gingerly. “Thank you?”

“Do you remember one of our first missions together, Wisteria?” Ulysses suddenly asked.

Wisteria looked at the folder and then at him again. “The job in Essen?” Wisteria could definitely remember that. Especially the part about nearly freezing in one of the barns, and drinking a bottle of Six Swans vodka between herself, Nieve, and Ulysses.

“Do you remember what you said in the barn?”

Wisteria shook her head. “Not really,” She admitted. “We did get pretty drunk.”

“If I remember rightly, you got pretty drunk,” Ulysses said, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. He cleared his throat quickly before continuing. “Well, I remember what you said at least, because it has stuck with me over the years. You mentioned wanting to know where you really came from - your parents, your extended family, if you had any real home so to speak.”

“But I looked!” Wisteria said. “I looked for Bloomes. There were none in Mistral that had a daughter my age.”

“Bloome is a fairly common surname as it turned out, so I am not surprised you had difficulty in finding any matches. However, the reason you likely struggled, was because your birth certificate wasn’t registered under any Mistrali settlements. You might have been raised in Mistral but you were born in Vacuo, Wisteria,” Ulysses explained. “With that in mind, I was able to do some backtracking and trace your parents to gather some more information on them.”

Ulysses stepped forward and opened the folder, showing a small page with two short biographies of a man and a woman. There were two photographs attached too. Even though the photographs were of academy aged students, Wisteria could see that they had details that matched up with the written biographies. More importantly, she could see they had features that matched up with her. She had the same green eyes as the man, and the same purple hair as the woman. Honestly, she could have gotten lost studying those faces, and might easily have done so if not for Ulysses bringing her back to reality.

“Lincoln Bloome and Daphne Holt,” He said.

“What?”

“That’s their names. Your parents,” He said, pointing at their names on the page. Wisteria followed is finger and nodded. Ulysses proceeded to shift uncomfortably on the spot. “Unfortunately, neither of them are no longer with us. Your father went missing in action and was suspected to have died, and your mother died only a few weeks later looking for him.”

Although Wisteria had always suspected that was the case, she felt a pang in her heart to know it was the truth. That they had not abandoned her as her former caretakers had often said but rather had died doing their jobs as huntsmen.

“There isn’t much on their times at their respective academies, especially your mother. You can blame Shade records for being notoriously spotty. However, it seems they lived good, honourable lives as huntsmen. I managed to find a few articles of interest though that you can find in the folder,” Ulysses explained. Wisteria was about to move the pages around to see when Ulysses stopped her. “Oh, there’s actually one more thing I found. It turns out you do have surviving family.”

Wisteria blinked in surprise. “I do? Why did they never come looking for me?”

“Well, to answer the second question, it seems like there was some effort on her behalf, but your former guardians made it difficult to find any leads. They claimed that you ran away and that they already had an investigation open to find you,” Ulysses responded. By the face he pulled afterwards, Wisteria wondered if he was thinking of the stories she had told him about them and the abuse she had suffered at their hands. Wisteria knew all too well there likely had never been an investigation on their end.

“Who is she?” Wisteria asked, wanting to know more about this mysterious relative Ulysses has mentioned.

“Arden Bloome - Lincoln’s mother. Your grandmother.”

A grandmother. Wisteria had a grandmother. Well, of course, she had grandparents, but she had never expected any to still be alive.

“How did you find all this?” She asked.

“I might have done a little bit of hacking,” Ulysses confessed, with a nervous chuckle. “I promised I wouldn't after River was born but it was for a good cause so I made an exception.”

Suddenly, Wisteria threw herself at Ulysses, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a tight embrace. “Thank you,” She said softly, burying her head into his shoulder slightly so as to stifle her tears.

Ulysses's arms were held out awkwardly by his side for a few moments, caught off guard by the sudden embrace. Wisteria recalled neither him nor her had been much for physical affection and they certainly hadn't shared a hug for a very long time.

Slowly, his arms wrap around her waist and he squeezes her tight. “You’re very welcome, Wisteria,” He said, pulling away from her with a small smile. “I hope this helps you get to where you need to be.”

Wisteria smiled and held the folder close to her chest. Behind her she could hear Ximenia about to come down the stairs and quickly took a breath in an effort to hide her tears. “I think it will,” Wisteria responded, genuinely meaning what she said.

With Ximenia coming downstairs, their own supplies in tow, it was finally time for the two of them to depart. Giles and Capella had already left to return to their respective jobs, so it only left Ulysses and Ximenia to share a goodbye. There was no hug as there had been with him and Wisteria, but they at least enjoyed a friendly handshake before they departed.

As the two of them stepped out onto the streets of Argus, Wisteria took in a breath of fresh air and smiled to herself. Wisteria could not and would forget her criminal past entirely but she was taking this as the chance to have a fresh start. After all these years, she could finally live the life she wanted to lead. And Wisteria was very much looking forward to that.

#team zrcn fic #wisteria bloome #sparrow #ulysses crest #giles crest #river crest

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tsarisfanfiction · 11 months

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Eclipse: Chapter 20

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Adventure Characters: Apollo, Hades Well this is one of the shortest chapters in the fic, but also it's a fun one so I'll stop waffling and let you jump straight in! I have a discord server for all my fics, including this one! If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi! <<Chapter 19

APOLLO XX

A heart-to-heart talk Hades says some bizarre things I don’t understand

“Thank you.” The words were a rough husk, a far cry from how Apollo was used to hearing his voice, but at least they were words again. There would be no singing or even impressive refrains of poetry with this voice, but even being able to talk again was a vast improvement – and more than Apollo had feared, given the source of the curse.

Hades scoffed. “I had no desire to listen to that unholy racket,” he said dismissively, but he didn’t pull his hand back despite a twitch that seemed as though he’d considered it, for a moment.

Apollo wasn’t sure what to make of that – not Hades considering pulling his hand back, that was less surprising than Hades reaching out in the first place, but the fact that Hades had chosen not to. Hades had defended him from the Arai, too – an equal exchange because Apollo had certainly not held back once the first curse hit his uncle with a vengeance that made all too much sense, seeing as it was a curse – and as he felt the surprising warmth of his uncle’s power run through him, chasing away remnants of the lesser curses until only the coil around his throat and the uneasy feeling that he couldn’t reach any arrows remained, his mind started presenting him with other moments.

His uncle had had no reason to defend Asclepius’ ascension, but he had done – even before that, he’d rescued Apollo and Asclepius from the mob they should have been able to defeat, if not for Orion’s earlier attack leaving them too vulnerable. Apollo was certain he would still have won that fight – he would not be an Olympian god if opponents of that ilk could destroy him – but that Hades had interceded at all had been strange at the time, and seemed no less strange in hindsight.

Except it was far from the only time Hades had intervened on his behalf. Orion sprang to mind, the giant ignoring Hades entirely until Hades forced himself into the fight. He’d stood guard while he recuperated, dragged him through rivers – and away from Styx, when she’d threatened his children, threatened Will.

There were logical reasons for all of the interventions, of course, but a small, traitorous part of Apollo was starting to feel something a bit like disbelief that his uncle would somehow intervene every time, and not always only when Apollo was in desperate need.

The only thing that didn’t make sense was this – the healing, when Apollo was the god of healing and Hades was the god of the Underworld, of the dead and everything Apollo wasn’t. It had helped, but Hades hadn’t needed to, and it went against everything he expected from his uncle.

And now he was healed, or near enough healed. Why was Hades still channelling strength into him?

Apollo’s fingers dug into the armour over Hades’ shoulder, his own power hitching for a moment in confusion before he brought it back under control and pushed it through Hades’ essence once more, chasing away the echoes of Demeter’s ice and shying away from the prickles of lightning on instinct until Apollo forced it to address that curse, too.

No matter how much the static charges made him want to cower.

“This curse is from Styx.” Hades’ observation cut through his thoughts, and he looked up at his uncle – even sat down as they were, Hades still insisted on being a few inches taller, apparently – to see dark flames regarding him with an unreadable expression.

It hadn’t been a question, but Apollo let out a breath and nodded his head in agreement.

“It fits,” he agreed in a voice that was still too hoarse, still rasping rather than melodic, and blinked, startled, as Hades’ grip on his own shoulder tightened for a moment, something that felt a lot like agitation swirling through his essence.

It was a natural conclusion of entwining their essences so deeply as they healed each other, but still Apollo found himself surprised when he realised he could sense a torrent of emotions behind Hades’ carefully guarded expressions. He couldn’t remember a time when Hades’ face wasn’t impassive or furious, but the swirling of his essence betrayed a depth of emotion that made sense, but had never occurred to Apollo.

They were not so entwined that Apollo could confidently isolate and identify each flicker of emotion, but he could catch impressions of the ones closer to the surface. Fury was an easy one to read, and agitation flickered around. Both were unsurprising – Hades had not asked to return to the Pit, had not asked to face the Arai for what Apollo suspected was not the first time. It was the other ones, some degree of fondness which must have been reserved for Nico and if Apollo was optimistic, Will, and something that was unmistakable as concern, that he hadn’t expected.

Apollo didn’t have the faintest idea what was causing concern to spike in his uncle’s essence so distinctively that he could feel and identify it with ease.

A faint strain of confusion swirled its way into existence, before being snuffed out by a flash of… understanding? Comprehension?

Hades yanked his hand back as though Apollo had burned him, pulling away from his touch entirely, and Apollo let his hand fall to his side.

“Apollo…” his uncle said, the words almost a growl and simmering with the same emotions he had just sensed – far more emotion than his uncle usually allowed to show in his voice. Apollo pulled a reassuring smile onto his face; it felt fake, even to him, but that didn’t stop him.

“The curses will fade in time,” he said, deliberately continuing the topic of Styx and her latest bout of vengeance – of course she’d stripped him of the abilities he’d sworn off of, the justice was poetic even if it was a form of poetry Apollo couldn’t say he was enamoured with when he was the one on the receiving end of it – and allowing Hades the dignity of not being forced to confront what he’d inadvertently learnt about his uncle. “I’m sure of it.” His voice broke on the second word, betraying a degree of his own concern because curses tended not to stick forever on gods, but this was the dues for a broken oath on the Styx and the rules for those were different, but he refused to back down.

Hades dark eyes bored into his, his uncle not replying to the hanging fruit of a non-emotionally-charged (for Hades) topic and instead feeling more like an assessment. It took Apollo a moment to realise that if he had been feeling Hades’ emotions, then the link had probably gone both ways.

It took him less than a moment to realise he really, really did not like that.

“We should keep moving,” he said, pushing himself to his feet and pretending he was completely fine – physically, his wounds had all gone, and the only curses that lingered were the ones that made him sound like a centuries-long chain smoker and the yawning gap where the sensation of his bow should be. Mentally…

Well, Apollo wasn’t planning on tackling that.

“Staying in one place down here seems like a bad idea,” he continued, uncomfortably aware that Hades had yet to stand, and was still staring at him with black flames that seemed to be trying to sear directly into his essence. “I can keep watch if you need a bit longer?” he offered, recalling how the Acheron had rendered his uncle near-comatose. “You took a worse hit from-”

“Apollo, be quiet.”

The words – the tone – left no room for argument, and Apollo’s jaw clacked shut almost of its own accord. He didn’t really need an excuse not to talk – he was delighted that he could, that Styx’s curse had deigned to let him have at least that much back, but it still pained him to hear what had become of his voice. That didn’t make the way Hades was looking at him any easier to handle.

“There is nothing in our immediate vicinity right now,” Hades continued, gesturing to the wide expanse of membrane. He was right, of course – they had a clear line of sight in all directions far enough that not even Orion would be able to sneak up on them. “Time may be of the essence but that is no excuse to rush ahead foolishly.”

Apollo thought about Will, worrying over him and how long he’d been gone, about Asclepius’ gentle misdirection as he reassured the demigods that he and Hades would be fine despite knowing better, about Nico and whatever plan the three of them were concocting and carrying out from within the confines of Nico’s bedroom in Hades’ palace, and disagreed. The faster the quest was over, the sooner he could rest easy knowing that the prophecy would not signify his bright son and his son’s boyfriend being dragged down into Tartarus after all.

His uncle didn’t budge. Apollo wondered if it was the first time he’d ever been taller than his uncle. It felt strange… wrong, somehow. Hades never let anyone else be the tallest in the room, not even Zeus.

The only conclusion Apollo could come to was that Hades needed to rest for longer. Maybe he’d missed a curse during their healing session, which rankled against his pride as a healer – he might be used to being second best to Asclepius, but he was still not used to failing – but he reminded himself that Hades had been the one to pull away.

The reason why clobbered him over the head once again, rudely refusing to let Apollo push it from his mind to never be thought of again.

He really didn’t like the way Hades was looking at him, a searching gaze that made him want to duck behind cover – not that there was any where they were, because its clear lines of sight was why Hades had led them there in the first place.

“Apollo.” There was something heavy about the way his name fell from Hades’ lips, and it trapped Apollo where he was, cutting off any avenues for escape that he might have been able to otherwise find. “You…”

Hades never hesitated, not in all the millennia that Apollo had known his uncle. There was an echo of Nico in his expression, a frustration he recalled from when Nico had been told he couldn’t help, that the best thing for him to be doing was something completely different to what he wanted to do.

Black flames finally flickered away, scanning the barren landscape surrounding him, but Apollo didn’t – couldn’t – relax. The air between them was still charged, still heavy with suspense, with expectation, and his body wouldn’t move. Something was coming – not physically, not a new threat to face, but something to fill the gap between them, and Apollo didn’t know what it was but he did know that whatever it was, he wasn’t ready for it.

Hades’ next words were slow and measured, low but clearly audible even if Apollo wasn’t the god of music with a keen ear to match.

“I did not return to this place solely for Nico’s benefit,” his uncle said – confessed, the words were a confession, the tone was that of a confessor. Apollo froze at the unexpectedness of it, once again feeling like one of the ice goddess’ statues, but it didn’t seem like Hades was done. “If my intent had been to simply ensure Nico never set foot in here again, I would have stopped him through any means necessary and been content with that.”

“But… the prophecy,” Apollo protested faintly. “Darkness-”

“I do not care for prophecies, as you must know,” Hades interrupted him. Apollo did know, remembered the cursing of his oracle with no small burst of frustration bordering on betrayed anger – he’d sent her to warn Hades, to protect his children; his uncle had had no right to curse her for it. “Nor do I care for the greater scheme of things beyond that which affects my domain. My foolish brother has long since seen to that.”

“Prophecies can’t be avoided,” Apollo reminded him, wincing at the raw rasp of his voice. “Darkness-”

“As long as it was not my own, I had no care for what might fulfil that part of the blasted thing,” Hades dismissed. “You yourself have frequently reminded us that prophecies are fickle and need not mean the obvious.”

There was something pointed in there, almost a mild accusation that Apollo was being a hypocrite for interfering in a prophecy, for daring to presume he understood what the Delphic words meant. Apollo ignored it, knew that Hades believed he had gone beyond his constraints in interfering and attempting to control the meaning of a prophecy, but with his son already determined to take sunshine for his own, the risk was worth it. His uncle’s knowledge about prophecies was rudimentary at best.

“So why did you come?” he asked, rather than acknowledge the silent accusation. It was still a dangerous conversation topic, something warned him, a lump in the back of his throat that had nothing to do with his rasping voice. Hades’ motivation – the fact that Hades was willing to divulge his motivation – was no doubt complex and riddled with landmines Apollo had no way of avoiding, but now the topic had been alluded to, Apollo was undeniably curious.

He hadn’t claimed the domain of knowledge for no reason – he craved knowing things, always sought for the hows and the whys even when hindsight revealed that they’d have been better left unlearned. Curiosity killed the cat, mortals had started saying in Ireland sometime around the eighteenth century, a bastardisation of Ben Jonson’s original care killed the cat – which Shakespeare had borrowed for his own purposes a year later, seeing the genius in that particular line – and Apollo had never been able to dispute either the original poets or the later reporter.

Right then, on the cusp of an exposé of his secretive uncle’s inner thoughts, Apollo felt like it was about to be particularly apt.

“I returned here because of you.”

Hades’ words were slow and measured, each one weighted heavily enough that Apollo thought they ought to sink straight to the membrane that passed for the ground, but they were not hesitant.

For their perceived weight, they took a long time to sink in, floating around Apollo in a haze of disbelief before settling against his essence and pressing in as though they were the sky to his Atlas.

“Me?” he squeaked, somewhat belatedly, as they finally forced their way into his mind and demanded a comprehension Apollo couldn’t give.

Hades’ gaze was a different sort of weight, yet no less crushing. The slight hesitation in his face, and the soft, awkward clearing of his throat softened the blow somewhat, but Apollo still found himself no better equipped to deal with his uncle’s next words as they carefully came into existence.

“You are… not intolerable,” Hades said, almost tentatively as though he wasn’t sure how Apollo would take his admittance.

Apollo couldn’t even think of anything to say to that, let alone consider opening his own mouth to react. Silence hung between them, pregnant with something – expectation, awkwardness, gods never admitted to not hating each other – before Hades’ posture stiffened into something a lot like determination, or resignation, or maybe a complicated combination of the two, and he spoke again, confidence starting to build the more he said.

“In fact… of my siblings’ children, I find you the most tolerable,” he continued, the edge of awkwardness still there, and no wonder because Apollo had never heard any god talk so openly about not hating another, and certainly not his reclusive eldest uncle. “Barring my beautiful wife, of course,” he clarified after a moment that could have spanned a mortal heartbeat or a mortal lifetime. If he was another god, Apollo might have thought there was a smirk in those words – no, there was definitely a wryness to the clarification, Hades well aware that it didn’t need to be said but leaving no room for misunderstandings nonetheless.

It helped, a bit, to centre Apollo’s thoughts, the infinitesimal tonal shift enough to jerk his mind into some sort of progress again, no matter how sluggish and confused it was.

“Me?” he managed again, not a squeak the second time but rasping too thickly to just be his ruined voice at play. Apollo determinedly didn’t analyse his own reactions deep enough to identify what else was involved, but from the look Hades gave him, his uncle seemingly had no restraint on that, although to Apollo’s relief, he mercifully refrained from calling him out on his evasion or the emotions that were threatening to well up.

“Who else would I be speaking with?” Hades demanded instead. “The denizen whose form on which we sit?” The sarcasm was sharp, and far more like the uncle Apollo expected. It helped centre him a little more, despite the unfathomable meaning that seemed to be behind his words.

Apollo had no choice but to concede to that point, at least.

“Why?” he rasped, unable to form more than a monosyllabic response, to clarify which why he was asking – why was he Hades’… least not-favourite? Why was that enough for Hades to accompany him to Tartarus? Why was Hades telling him this?

Perhaps Apollo couldn’t clarify because he didn’t know himself which one he meant.

Hades didn’t respond for so long, Apollo began to wonder if it was too vague a question, if the single syllable had stumped his uncle as much as his own mind was short-circuiting. If it wasn’t for the fact that the dark, dark fires of his uncle’s eyes didn’t leave him for a single instant, he might have thought Hades didn’t intend on answering at all.

He started to wonder that anyway.

After what felt like an eternity, Hades shifted where he sat. It was a small movement, normal for demigods and mortals and something Apollo himself had got used to doing during his months as Lester, but for a god as far removed from human impulses as the one before him, it was a deliberate action designed to capture Apollo’s attention, and hold it there, regardless of the fact that Apollo couldn’t break away from the topic even if he tried.

“The Pit is cruel, and unforgiving, even to the most powerful of gods,” Hades started, words slow and unhurried, each one thought out before falling into existence. “It is also the near antithesis of you and most of what you represent.”

Apollo knew that. It was hard not to, with the oppressiveness of the Pit and its primordial surrounding him from the moment he arrived, slowly moving to try and smother the brightness of the sun and leeching his strength away at a glacial but steady rate. It was the whole reason why he’d been adamant that Will would never step foot inside Tartarus, why he’d been so furious at finding Asclepius trapped there.

It was impossible to think that Hades had the same thoughts about him, however, but his uncle was not done speaking and Apollo had no words to say regardless.

“I thought it would be a pity, if the Pit destroyed you,” the older god finished, his eyes finally flitting away from Apollo to look elsewhere, signalling the end of his confession.

It had taken him long enough, part of Apollo thought a little hysterically, as despite itself his mind started to whirl, re-assessing events with a new viewpoint, a different lens through which to observe his uncle’s actions and reactions.

Any thoughts he might have entertained about Hades lying, or perhaps exaggerating, found themselves systematically dismissed as Apollo’s mind sorted through memories, seeing the small things Hades had done that had seemed a little strange, a little out of sorts, unusual in a way Apollo didn’t have the wherewithal to analyse when he had the quest to worry about instead, in a new light.

He still couldn’t actually believe that Hades had come down specifically to aid him – to protect him, even, if his uncle’s words were taken rather more literally – but he could see how those actions could seem protective, in the right light. That maybe those moments when Hades had interceded against Orion, when he’d stood back to back against the Arai and batted them away, weren’t just protective by coincidence, but by some form of intent.

Why, he almost asked again, this time with the specification of why do you tolerate me enough to protect me in mind, but he knew that was an answer he wouldn’t be able to take. Not now, and likely not ever.

Perhaps that was one piece of knowledge that would truly kill the cat, more so than even Apollo could take.

He swallowed the plaintive question back, where it couldn’t destroy him, and instead dredged up what was, in this context, a safer, more appropriate thing to say.

“I… thank you.” He meant it, too, a small bundle of warmth coiling within his essence that was relieved for the help, for aid unasked for yet given nonetheless. It reminded him of the demigods, of mortals with their big hearts and determination filled faces. Of Meg, his beloved demigod master who loved with her actions more than her words, of his children who gave him everything he asked for and more despite the fact he’d taken too much from them already, and given them pittance in return.

Hades didn’t say you’re welcome, or something as inane as thank me by not getting yourself destroyed, like some of the aforementioned demigods would have done. In fact, he didn’t say anything at all, still looked across the exposed plain of membrane they were resting in the centre of rather than face Apollo directly, but his head tilted, just slightly, in an unmistakable acknowledgement of the words.

That was fine. That was more than fine. Clearly Hades had reached his limit of emotional confessions, which had been a much higher limit than Apollo would ever have credited his uncle with, and Apollo himself was definitely far past his limit in that regard, too – especially when it came to receiving them.

The silence that settled over them was one that could be classified as comfortable. Apollo didn’t reach out to help Hades heal any further, nor did his uncle do the same, but barring Styx’s curses, Apollo was more or less curse-free once more, and Hades’ posture suggested the same about his uncle. It was better for them to sit in silence – comfortable silence – with their backs to each other, keeping a watch for any unwelcome company, while they finished healing and regaining their strength.

Olympus knew they were going to need all the strength they could muster to finish the quest.

Chapter 21>>

#trials of apollo #trials of apollo fanfiction #riordanverse #riordanverse fanfic #pjo hades #pjo apollo #tsari writes fanfiction #eclipse

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bogusboxed · 2 years

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Boxtober - Day 17: "Cat -astrophic"

Day 17: -Nurse Ann X GN!Reader “Animal Shelter” x “Are you serious?”

-I do not own "Nurse Ann" and do not take credit for her.

This chapter includes headcanons and a one-shot!

Headcanon Section

-At first, she could just sense you bringing another life force into her domain, and she didn’t know how to feel about it. She trusted you enough to not kill it, however.

-Upon seeing the fluffy thing in your arms, she instantly caved and fell in love with it. She will never tell you or even hint about it, but she direly wants to cuddle with it.

-She would kill people or things to keep you and your shared cat safe.

-She tends to get jealous when she sees you two hanging out without her, so invite her to join in.

-She is incredibly proud of seeing the cat bring her a dead mouse and likes to help it hunt.

-Ann acts a lot like the cat, and that's one of the reasons you all get along pretty easily.

-Dina tried taking the feline away once and might have almost died because of it.

-Ann would not hesitate to help make a nice place for the cat to sleep in and would help you in any way she could.

-You might have trouble keeping them away from each other, but you're going to have a bigger problem trying to keep them away from you.

One-shot Section

You didn’t do much in the abandoned hospital. You just sat there watching time go by as the person who kept you captive watched closely. She wanted to make her presence known, whether it was by constantly dragging her chainsaw along the broken tile in the distance or standing close by. Though, it didn't mean she wanted you to worry about your safety and privacy. She just wanted to keep you close. But she also wanted to give you space, but you knew she could never keep it up for long. She had to stand near you to protect you, as she thought. But, in truth, she just liked to be in your presence. It was the thought of having someone who wasn’t trying to kill her or run from her that just warmed her. She needed you to stay with her, but she wasn't going to force you by her hand.

But, even with all of this, it wasn’t like she kept you there against your will. When you escaped initially, you couldn't get the thought of her crimson hair out of your head. You were too intrigued by a life that wouldn't involve sitting around for years on end. You were looking for something more—something that was out of this world, and her existence was enough. She would be able to provide you with the fantasy you've always desired. That dream of having a life that would involve mystery under mystery. Even though you knew she'd never let you go too far, you wanted to push the envelope. So, you came back expecting to have to run again. However, you did not. You stayed with her. It took a while, but both of you learned how to embrace one another’s presence. However, you thought it’d be a good idea to expand your embrace. To expand upon the love you two had, you left early that morning and went out. You left her in the dark, quite literally and figuratively. You knew she’d be a little worried, but you also knew she trusted you enough to come back.

It was a dark morning, and you had a fluffball in your hands. You could hear the gentle purring it let out, having to curl up in your arms. The warmth provided by its fur was enough for it, but not nearly enough for you. And you knew the cold morning would soon drift away into more warm temperatures, but, for now, you two would just have to deal with it. It's more like you’d have to deal with it. Whilst the cat was fully enjoying the warmth, it had stole from you. You had not been as lucky as you had been frozen by nature’s elements. From the harsh winds to the temperatures plummeting, it had you shaking. You looked at the animal who looked unbothered by the cold and quickly grew envious of it. But, in hindsight, you probably should've gotten a thicker jacket. You just didn’t get how Ann could handle it so well.

So, in conclusion, it probably wasn’t the best idea to go get a cat from a local in these kinds of conditions. You learned your lesson and will invest in better equipment the next time you venture out this early. I mean, the hospital was barely holding itself together, but it was better than whatever this was. You could see the trees beginning to thin up, releasing you from the thickness they had you trapped in. You walked through the thick mud before; you finally got past the thick brush. You ended up on the other side of the forest, which led you directly to the mystic hospital. It used to look so threatening. But now, that was just a distant memory, long forgotten. Now the place looks almost warmed and welcoming. You tried not to think about it as the kitten brushed against you, mewling to get out of your arms and onto the floor. But, you only had so much longer to go, so you held onto it for a while more. The cat seemed to get the message and stopped attempting to It rested carefully in your arms as you cradled it. You hummed to yourself and the cat in contentment, trying your best to ignore the elements.

You sighed to yourself heavily as the cat purred in response. You could feel your own body getting used to entering the old building as you hardened your grip on the cat. You could hear your shoes clack against the dirty tile as you echoed throughout the hospital. Your breath was apparently in the air as you found your way around the rundown establishment. You made it clear that you were back from wherever you ran off to. You didn't want her to surprise ambush you, after all, not knowing how she'd react to an animal. As you waited for a moment, not sure if you should keep moving. You could soon hear the distant metal scraping once again. You knew she was around and that was her way of saying hello. She knew you were around, but she probably knew as soon as you stepped foot into that forest. For some reason, it comforted you to hear that familiar noise that once drove you to insanity as you focused once again.

You soon made it to familiar territory with the creature in your arms. You then decided it would be the best place to get the cat first adjusted. You gently coaxed the cat into getting out of your arms. The animal slowly got into motion, feeling you trying your best to get it out of your arms. The cat seemed to understand as it slipped out of your arms, stretching on the muck-filled tiles as you petted its thick coat. You sat on the ground, which the animal imminently took note of. The cat pressed its head against your hand as you tilted your head in curiosity. Even if it hadn’t known you for long, it seemed to trust you enough to be affectionate with you. It licked your hand with its rough tongue, and you could hear the metal coming closer. This made the cat nervous, and it paused its actions. You quickly scooped the cat back into your arms as you stood up, petting it. You knew Ann’s actions would probably set the animal into flight or fight mode, so you relaxed it by holding it. You hummed gently, making sure to prepare the animal to see her.

You could hear the clicking of heels as a woman turned the corner. In a black nurse’s uniform stood nurse Ann. She seemed rather excited to see you, but the animal in hand seemed to set an alarm off. Your instinctive reaction was to keep the animal close to your chest. She wasn’t sure how to react to an animal like a cat. Normally she’d slaughter them for food, but you seemed pretty attached to the little thing. So, she threw that idea out the window, thankfully. She could see the innocent and genuine glint in your eyes that you shared with the cat. It was the same loving gaze you gave her. She gave you the look of "Are you serious?" though it seemed she stared more, perhaps even judging the both of you. Originally, she might have felt a ping of jealousy, but it was quickly overshadowed by interest. She seemed keen on interacting with both of you in the most gentle way possible, seeing it was the only way she'd get close.

As she approached, Ann slowly and quietly put down her chainsaw, avoiding any sudden movements. The way she came forth was really interesting to you, considering how violent she was with you at the beginning. But, she seemed to sense you trusted the fluffy creature, so she automatically trusted it along with you. It was sweet in some messed up way. She stuck out her gloved arm slowly as you freed one hand, taking hers. You gently woke the cat up from its daze as it seemed to be interested in the smell of the newcomer. The cat rubbed its furry face against the glove. Ann seemed to be in a trance as the precious kitty rubbed her whiskers against her hand. Her plastic glove rubbed against your hand repeatedly as she got into more risky pets, slowly getting used to it. The cat seemed to not mind her presence as it climbed out of your arms and onto her lap.

She froze completely as she had her hands on her knees, sitting on the cracked marble with you. The animal curled up into her lap, making sure to get as comfortable as possible, not caring about the person above. She caressed the cat carefully as she listened to it purr in her presence. You could sense her fearful and harsh demeanor quickly melting away in the shared presence. And you could also just see the look in her eyes when she petted the cat. She now had two living things that didn’t fear her. Her red hair framed her face as she became a gentle giant for you both. This wasn’t what you expected when bringing an animal back, but you couldn’t say you were mad about it.

#flufftober2022 #day17 #fictober22 #fanfic #fanfiction #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta #nurse ann x reader #nurse ann x you #nurse ann x y/n #creepypasta x you #creepypasta x y/n

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nuagederose · 1 year

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As the Seasons Grey | Chapter Sixteen: You’re the Only Good Thing In My Life

“So, let me get this straight,” Nelly began, “you had the time of your life with him, she barges in, he waffles, being all hot and sexy with you but trying to make it seem like he’s got her best intentions at heart, and then you basically give him the mother of all ultimatums.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I did,” Christine told her in a broken voice. “If I’m being honest, though, I don’t know what else I could’ve done.” Nelly shook her head.

They had gone next door to the bakery for ham and cheese croissants for breakfast, and while they waited for those sandwiches in question, Nelly led her over to the corner of the room so they could have some time alone. Christine had wiped down her face with a warm washcloth back at her apartment before they went out, but she knew that she would start crying again at any given moment. She kept the Sepultura shirt on all the while: they were in New York, and she knew that no one would pay attention to her lack of a bra under that green jacket.

“I think you made the right choice,” she assured her with a pat of her hand there on the table. “You are absolutely correct, I mean—I’m not going to lie. I would have done the exact same thing. Painful as it is, sometimes you have to realize what’s best for you. Sometimes you have to be your own best friend. I’m sure you’re aware of this.”

“Pfff, you got that right.”

“Really, I am impressed, Chris,” she confessed, and she raised her eyebrows in amazement. “I thought for sure you guys were going to be something. Just knowing how he’s always been toward you and everything.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me,” Christine said with a sigh. She gazed out the window, and she expected to see Alex out there on the street with a wedding band on his finger and a pair of shopping bags in hand. He had made up his mind in her eye. He would rather go and be with Captain Howdy for the rest of his life than be free. When she thought about it, that was what came to mind: she wanted him to be free from anything that hurt him and brought him more pain than pleasure. She wanted him to be content with everything, and not just one side of his life.

She wanted to help him and be close to him.

In fact, when she thought about it, she remembered how satisfying it felt to think that she had him all for herself.

She wanted him all for herself. She knew he wasn’t happy with Captain Howdy, but he was happy with her, with his Strawberry Girl. And there was something she couldn’t fully shake and that was his insistence that he was being sincere with her.

It could have been he was just a sincere guy, sincere in the sense that he lied to Captain Howdy for Christine, just to protect her from the wrath. He would probably steal for her as well.

“You know, right before I walked out, I gave him a little morning rendezvous,” she told Nelly, who raised her eyebrows at her.

“Really? Did he like it?”

“He sure did. A lot.” Christine sniffled, even though she knew she had no tears left at the moment. “I went real slow, too.”

“Ooh, slow’s nice,” Nelly remarked with a sly smile. “Underrated, too. Everyone wants to go fast all the time: slow is sensual and hot, and that tells me you connected with him.”

“He told me it felt like a hallucination,” Christine continued. “And he also called me a great kisser.” Her face fell. She knew that he was back at his apartment and crying. She wished that she could run back to him to soothe things over down there, but she had a croissant awaiting her, and she wondered how Nelly would react to that as well. “He was so vulnerable with me, too. In hindsight, it feels like I was seeing parts of him that he didn’t dare share with else, especially not with her.”

“Nelly?” The woman at the counter called out, and Nelly herself ambled over to fetch the croissants for them. Christine peered out the window again to the street. Once again, she expected to find him out there, wedding band on left finger and money well-spent on his new bride and everything.

She winced at the thought, and Nelly returned to her with the pair of ham and cheese croissants ready on little paper plates with napkins. The croissants themselves were golden and crispy, fresh out of the oven, and the cheese was bright yellow and melted to perfection. As she placed the plates down on the table between them, Christine couldn’t help but notice the pensive look on her face,

“Do you think you made the right choice?” Nelly herself asked with a slight cock to her head. Christine gazed on at her with her eyes wide and her lips pursed.

“Come on. Be honest with me.”

Silence fell over them, and silence that Christine could feel over them even in an otherwise busy little bakery on the street corner of the Upper West Side. She leaned over the table for Nelly to better hear her.

“I don’t really know if I did or not,” Christine confessed to her.

“Let me ask you a question,” Nelly began as she picked up her croissant. “Were you crying before you showed up at my place?”

“He was ready to cry at like any second,” she recalled. “You know, if I had stayed there another five seconds, he probably would’ve shed some tears right on the spot.”

“No, I don’t mean him,” Nelly clarified. “I mean you. Did you cry at all?”

“I was ready to,” Christine recalled. “I let go once I saw you.”

“Did you feel… I wanna say ‘off’ about it? Like something about it didn’t sit well with you?”

“Yes,” Christine replied.

“Do you wish you could talk to him right now?”

“To a degree.”

“It also helps that when you came to my place, you blatantly told me that you fucked up,” Nelly recalled with a thoughtful look on her face. Christine sighed through her nose, and then she picked up the croissant. She wasn’t completely in the mood to eat but Nelly had promised her a good time with those croissants, and she picked hers up for the first bite. The ham was warm and the cheese was smooth: a combination which reminded her of Alex’s skin.

She didn’t want to think about it as she dug into that lush croissant.

She would have to wait until the time came for her to get together with him to at the very least make sure he was okay. She took her time to eat the croissant to relish the flavors as well as merely enjoy her time there with Nelly. The entire was warm and welcoming for the two of them, complete with the soft smells of cakes and cookies and all manner of pastries from the heart of the early morning.

All so soft and so sweet.

The two of them fell into silence as they indulged in the croissants: Nelly offered to buy her a donut or a cookie for the ride home.

“I don’t know, you’ve already spent some money on me,” Christine confessed with a shake of her head, and she thought about the day when Alex had spent all that money on her, money he didn’t have no less.

“Come on, live a little! Here—I’ll get you a Boston cream donut.”

She stood there by the table and watched Nelly make her way over to the counter for one of those big chocolate-coated donuts with that lush cream inside of there. She sighed through her nose again and peered out the window a third time to the street. He was out there somewhere.

Nelly thanked the girls at the counter, and she handed Christine the donut. She showed her a smile as a result, and the two of them stepped outside to the street once more. A cool autumnal chill settled in the air around them, and Christine knew that the first real snow of the season was upon them soon enough.

“I don’t want to lose him,” she confessed to Nelly without a second thought.

“You won’t,” she promised her as they gazed up to the overcast sky in unison. The feeling of rain hung in there as well, but neither of them has any idea as to when it was about to come for them.

“It’s funny, he said that exact same thing to me,” Christine recalled in a thoughtful tone. Nelly flashed her a wink and they walked back to her apartment. The doorman held the door for Nelly but looked on at Christine with a stern expression on his face.

“It’s okay, Jasper, she’s just not in the best mood right now,” Nelly told him.

“Sometimes a nice big donut helps,” he assured Christine, and she showed him an unsure smile. It may have been the grave look on his face, but something about Jasper made her feel as though she was headed down to the principal’s office.

Nelly led her back up to her apartment for her things as well as some time there before she took the next subway followed by the next bus back down to Queens.

“No way I’m taking one of those feeder buses again,” Christine vowed to her with a shake of her head.

“Don’t blame you,” Nelly agreed with a shrug of her shoulders. “Too many people and they take way too long just to get down to the fruit stand on 71st Street, too.” She sat down next to Christine on the lumpy couch. “You can stay the night here if you’d like. This couch folds out into a bed, and I’ve slept on it a number of times—it’s really comfy for a sofa bed. You’ll also wake up to the smell of bread from next door.”

“I kind of want to sleep in my own bed tonight,” Christine said. “I also want to have dinner with my mom, too. I always have dinner with her on Sundays. Even with as much as I love the smell of freshly baked bread.”

“Good plan. Go be with family and get some sleep. Always take care and be kind to yourself in the face of heartbreak.”

Nelly helped her bring her things together, as well as a spare napkin for the donut, and then she put her arms around her one last time.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at school,” Nelly promised her.

“Wait, what if I see Alex?” Christine asked.

“Wait until you’re at school. Enjoy today while it’s here.” With one last embrace, Christine headed on down to the subway station on the next block. She held her donut close as she descended those slick tile steps to the platform below the streets. Something about the terminal made her feel a lot warmer than usual as well, and she figured it was the realization that she was going back home. Her ride awaited her in that shiny silver bullet, and she boarded with the wind at her back.

The next bus awaited her as well for that final stretch over the Brooklyn Bridge and into those familiar neighborhoods. She climbed off right as the sun hung over the apartment buildings on her block: she spotted Eric’s car parked up the street and she knew she was home.

All the while, she kept her donut safe under the spare napkin. It would have to wait some more as she walked along that second hallway to her place, and she was welcomed by the music of Jackson Browne at the apartment across the hall.

Christine awoke the next morning to the feeling of that teddy bear Alex had gotten her as well as gray skies but no snow on the ground. She didn’t mind as long as she was able to take the next bus to school in some peace and quiet. Once she was dressed, she realized that she still hadn’t eaten that Boston cream donut, and she knew that that would tithe her over until she had some lunch courtesy of that feather-haired lunch lady in the cafeteria.

As she stood at the bus stop, she nibbled on the donut, still fresh even after a ride down the spine of New York and over the East River and then her leaving it out on the kitchen counter overnight. The chocolate was nice and thick, the dough stayed soft, and the cream was extra lush. She smiled as she took a bigger bite and glanced down the street.

Alex wasn’t too far from there, but she needn’t think about him right then, not when she was eating such a delicious donut. She topped off the last bite right as the bus lumbered up to the curb for her.

Another ride to campus.

Once she stepped off, and the sky darkened some more, a feeling of dread overcame her. She knew that she was going to have to face him there at Mr. Hansen’s class.

It was like one of those mornings where she was faced with a big test and she had forgotten to study: every step to the classroom felt like a step closer to hearing if she was about to be sentenced to death or at the very least life in prison. But this death sentence had a stern look within those bespectacled blue eyes and lanky creeping fingers that looked ready to take her down several pegs.

Christine reached the door of Mr. Hansen’s class, which remained ajar right before her. She closed her eyes and sighed through her nose.

She stepped inside.

A woman with her hair tied up in a bun sat at the desk with a book on her lap and a notebook on the desk before her. Alex was nowhere to be seen.

Christine turned her head to her corner of the classroom, where Eric, Sabrina, Valentina, and Colette had all already taken their seats. Puzzled, Christine padded over to the group, who looked over at her as if they were waiting for her to say something.

“Have any of you seen Alex at all?” Christine asked them as she sat down.

“We were just going to ask you that,” Eric replied. “I haven’t seen him since last week and he promised to be home when I called him.”

“What’d you call him for?” she asked him, and she wondered if Alex even got a phone call from Eric at all during that weekend,

“I wanted to ask him some questions about music,” he duly replied with a shrug. “I kinda wonder how he’s doing right now, because I called him twice yesterday and I got the voicemail. He told me he’d pick up, too. I guess Mr. Hansen’s planning on retiring after this year’s up and they’re trying to find another sub now.”

“We haven’t seen him, either,” Sabrina chimed in from behind he, and Marlene took her seat right then. “At least, not the three of us.”

“You guys talking about Alex?” Marlene asked them.

“Yeah,” Christine replied.

“I just saw him,” Marlene told her.

“You did?” Valentina joined in,

“You did!” Christine’s heart skipped a beat.

“Yeah, I saw him in the teacher’s lounge just now sitting at the table by himself,” Marlene explained. “He looked like something was bothering him, though. I didn’t dare go over to him.” Christine swallowed at that, and she knew that she had to talk to him when she had the opportunity.

“But you still saw him, though,” Eric said with a nudge of his hair from the side of his face.

“Oh, yeah.”

More students filtered into the room, and Christine knew it was going to be a long hour.

“He looked like something was bothering him?” she asked Marlene.

“Yeah, he had that faraway look on his face,” she explained in a lower voice, “like he was wondering about something huge. He’s got those big sullen eyes, too—you know, they feel like they’re staring right through you. I just had this feeling that all was not well on his end.”

“Maybe all is not well on his end,” Colette suggested. “He did say he was an adjunct professor after all.”

“Adjunct and a sub, too,” Eric added. But while they talked about it, Christine turned her attention away from them.

In fact, she scarcely paid attention to the class that day: the sub made them watch a movie and she knew that she was going to have to catch up with him after school. It was going to be a long day, even with classes that she loved.

When the hour was dismissed, she tapped on Eric’s shoulder.

“You want to help me?” she asked him.

“With what?”

“Catching up with Alex,” she answered.

“Yeah, sure. I still have those questions I want to ask him. Meet up after school?”

“Always.”

Indeed, it was rather interesting at lunchtime as she ate at her usual spot on the side of the room but by herself, and Nelly even looked around for Alex for her as well.

At the end of the day, she hurried out of the building to the sidewalk. Eric stood at the corner with his long black hair streaked behind him like a long black cape.

“Let’s run, Chris-Chris,” he declared, and the two of them ran back towards the registrar’s office to at the very least get the scoop on his whereabouts. The cold damp air filled Christine’s lungs with every step along the blacktop. It felt as though everything moved in slow motion, even as they broke into a sprint about halfway down that street to those double doors. Eric held the door for her, and she bolted inside first.

They both out of breath, but they managed to gather themselves just to focus on the matter at the helm.

“Is Alex in?” she asked the young woman behind the reception desk.

“Who?”

“Skolnick,” Eric added.

“I think he went home about twenty minutes ago,” she told them. “He said he’s apparently doing an interview at NYU later this afternoon because he doesn’t know if he has a future here.”

Christine and Eric glanced at one another.

“Twenty minutes ago,” the latter muttered.

“Yeah…” Christine nibbled on her bottom lip. She was fueled by nothing more than a donut and a grilled cheese sandwich, but she felt she could do anything if she had the initiative for it.

“Thank you,” she told the receptionist. “Come on, Eric.”

“Where are we going?”

“You drove, didn’t you?” she asked him.

“Yeah.” His face then lit up. “Oh, I see.”

The two of them then sprinted out of there. Before they reached Eric’s car, he took out the keys from his jeans pocket and nearly dropped them onto the blacktop. They piled inside, and then they sped out of the campus onto the side street to avoid the traffic.

“She said he went home and he’s going to do an interview later,” she rambled. “What exactly does ‘later’ signify?”

“I have no clue, but—” Eric pursed his lips. Christine turned her attention to him.

“What?”

“I got a bad feeling about this,” he confessed. Right as the words left his lips, Christine glanced at the dashboard clock which read four-thirty. Twenty minutes to get home, and then another thirty to NYU. It seemed rather strange that he was going to have an interview with a university that late in the day.

They made their way along the boulevard down towards the Brooklyn Bridge, and right before the rush hour traffic as well. They sped over the bridge, over those black waters of the East River which seemed to burn even under the veil of a gray sky before the first snowfall.

“He’s going to see that fucking woman he’s with,” Christine proclaimed, to which Eric raised his eyebrows.

“Do you know where she lives?” he asked her.

“No, and I really don’t have any desire to, either,” Christine replied as they reached the other side of the bridge and the outskirts of Brooklyn itself.

“I ask because we could go to her place and do a little spying of sorts,” he said. “You know. Catch up with them and listen in on them in her place or some shit.”

“We could probably do that when the snow goes away,” she suggested. “I feel like it’s supposed to snow some time today, so it’s not really the best time for that.”

“True. Also, we don’t know if she even lives on the ground floor, either.”

“Yeah, that would totally throw a monkey wrench into the whole shebang—” Christine gestured for him to make a left, down that street lined with all of the trees. Christine spotted that gray streak on the sidewalk, shoulders hunched up to his ears and overall disposition one of moroseness. She pointed out the windshield.

“There he is!”

Eric pulled over to the car right behind Alex, and Christine spared no time in climbing right out.

“Thank you so much, Eric—I’ll meet you back at my place,” she told him.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” he promised her, and she closed the door. Christine skirted past the car next to her, and she ran so fast onto the sidewalk. Alex peered over his shoulder for a look back at her, and he walked at a faster pace to get away from her.

“Alex!”

They were going up the street, away from the bus stop, and his car was parked way down the block as well, thus, she knew that he wouldn’t go very far unless he was about to take a cab. Indeed, once Eric sped past them, a couple of big yellow taxi cabs hummed by as well. She walked at a brisket pace after him.

“Alex, wait!” she called after him. “Wait!” He raised his hand up to catch a cab.

“Alex!” Christine broke into a run and finally caught up with him. Fuming, he tore away from her and flounced up the sidewalk in hopes to catch another one of those cabs.

“Alex, please!” she beseeched. “Would you just talk to me?”

“After what you did the other day?” he finally declared without looking back at her. “No freaking way.”

He stormed away from her, but Christine chased after him.

“Alex, please—Alex!”

“Leave me alone,” he scoffed.

“Alex!”

“Leave me alone, goddammit!” he snapped at her.

“Alex, come on! You’re being juvenile!” He stopped right in his tracks and glared at her.

“You wanna talk about being juvenile?” he demanded, irate. “What the hell was that ‘it’s me or her’ choose-y bullshit you pulled on me?”

“You know exactly what I meant by it!” she declared.

“That had to have been the most petty, immature bullshit I had ever heard in decades, Christine,” he spat. “I don’t know why someone your age would say such a thing. I thought you were way more mature than that!”

“It’s because I WANT YOU!” she shouted right into his face: there was enough traffic on the street to bolster the sound of her voice. “I want and love you, Alex! I love you more than you can ever imagine! It kills me to think that you’re with her when I know she doesn’t love you: she just loves you if you have money. She thinks you’re weak! She fucking ruined architects for me. I almost can’t even bear to come into school anymore because I know you’re still with her! I just… I hate it. I HATE IT! I FUCKING CAN’T STAND HER! I WISH SHE WOULD JUST DROP DEAD!”

She closed her eyes and screamed up to the sky at the top of her lungs before she burst into tears, perhaps more than she had ever cried at the height of her anorexia. Christine buried her face in her hands and bawled over the noise on the street. She dared not move or even so much as open her eyes to see him. Her entire body shuddered and shook, until she felt a hand on her shoulder.

She moved her hands away from her face to look up at him and the tears in his eyes, real tears at that point. He opened his arms for her.

“Come here, come here…”

Christine sputtered and moved in closer to his chest. Alex put his arms around her and held her close to him. His body shuddered from tears as well, and more so as she bawled right into his shirt. His long spindly fingers snaked their way into her hair, and he lay his head down upon the crown of her own.

The city of New York seemed to be crying with them as the noise on the street only picked up the pace into a continuous wall of sound. At least it wasn’t raining again.

“I’m a jerk,” he said in a broken voice. “I’m a fucking jerk!” Christine glanced up at him and his puffy bloodshot eyes as well as the tear stains all over his face: she noticed the drops of tears on the insides of his glasses. Something inside of her told her that he hadn’t cried like that a very long time.

“No,” she told him. “No, you’re not a jerk. If you’re a jerk, then I am, too.”

She held his face with both hands.

“I love you more than you’ll ever know,” she told him as she looked right into eyes. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You never will lose me,” he vowed to her in a broken voice, and more tears streamed down his face. He pressed his cherry lips to the side of her face, and he held her close to his chest once again. She sniffled and wiped away more tears.

“Come on, let’s go inside,” he suggested.

“Don’t you have to be somewhere, though?” she stammered.

“It can wait,” he assured her as he took off his glasses and wiped away more tears with the back of his hand. “This is way more important.”

He took his keys out of his jacket, and he opened the door for her. Once they were inside, Christine bawled into his chest once again. Alex held her face in his hands and kissed her right on the lips, the wettest most emotional kiss by far, more so than when they kissed in the rain.

It happened so fast as he peeled off her shirt and brought his lips to her breasts. The next thing she knew, she was on the couch, naked, flat on her back and he was on top of her, also naked except for his glasses.

Once he came for her, he lay down next to her and held her tight in his strong arms.

“Oh, man—” he breathed out.

“This is how we make up, baby.” She dared not mention Nelly to him.

“I’m gonna have to meet your parents now, I guess,” he confessed in a low voice.

“It would help,” she told him as she kissed the side of his face and then she put her arm around his full waist. His body was warm and tender to the touch.

“She ruined architects for you, really?” he asked her with a chuckle.

“Yeah. I used to actually have kind of soft spot for architecture and all that shit. I can’t even stand it now because of her. I’m more impressed by great music, great art, and marine biology than I am architecture now.”

“Wow.” He chuckled at that.

“What’s so funny?” she asked him, and she couldn’t resist laughing herself.

“Nothing, that’s just—wow. Man, that’s brutal.”

“Put some cold water on that burn!” she exclaimed, and he laughed some more, and then he stopped and massaged his temple with his fingertips.

“Ouch.” He grimaced from the pain.

“Headache?” she asked him.

“You would think that having a little hanky-panky would help with pain in the head, but I guess not.”

A low vibrating noise caught their attention: Christine glanced over his chest to behold his phone on the nightstand. Alex reached over for it to check the caller ID.

“I can’t,” he confessed as he put the phone down and let it go to voicemail. “It’s going to have to wait. I’m too tired.”

Christine tightened her hold on Alex’s body and lay her head on his bare chest.

“Too tired…” he sleepily muttered. Her hand slid down over his belly in all its soft smoothness.

“Your tummy really is just so soft and cute,” she told him. “It’s like the belly of a puppy or a teddy bear.”

“I want to lose weight, though,” he confessed as he inched his body closer to her. “Not a lot, just a few pounds. I want to be able to see my toes again.”

Her hand rested right over his belly button. She knew that his skin would only soften if he lost a couple, and she licked her lips at the thought of him being softer. She kissed him on the cheek again.

“I love your body no matter what,” she whispered to him. “I’m very in love with your body, actually, baby.”

“That’s so sweet,” he breathed out, and his eyes drooped closed. She ran her hand down the full rounded shape of his belly down to his hip. His soft smooth skin only brought a smile to her face. After all the tears, she still found her way back to the safety, the softness, and the beauty of his body.

She kissed him on the cheek again, followed by three whole times on the side of his neck. He kept his hand pressed onto her hip; he showed a small, contented smile at the feel of her hand and her lips on his skin.

“So sweet…” His voice trailed off as he drifted off to sleep, and Christine lay her head on his chest and closed her eyes. She knew they were going to wake up at dinner time, but she could care less at that point.

#as the seasons grey #as the seasons grey fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic art #ao3 fanfic #testament #testament band #alex skolnick #eric peterson #oc tag #fanfic with art #drawings #illustration #artists on tumblr #badgalnirvhannahart #Spotify

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iyumeu · 3 years

Text

spirit guardian

You call forth spirits to protect you. They flit around you to a distance of 15 feet for the duration. If you are good or neutral, their spectral form appears angelic or fey (your choice). If you are evil, they appear fiendish.

summary: you've been trying to keep things under wraps but when the bullying escalated and you find your life in danger, your demon finds out and the results are... not pretty. warnings: gore, blood, violence, body horror, self-mutilation, the boys are a little dark in this one, i would say hints of yandere, im not that good of a gore writer though so like if you're super into gore please dont expect much, but please read the warnings before each segment thank you.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━✿ᏊㅇꈊㅇᏊ✿━━━━━━━━☆⭒

You didn't want to admit it, but you were being bullied.

You had always known that the demon brothers had their own responsibilities to deal with and couldn't be with you all the time. The sentiment stretched over to your problems as well. They definitely had better things to concern themselves with and you weren't about to bother them with your insignificant issues, especially petty issues that surfaced from demons' general dislike of humans.

It wasn't anything you couldn't handle, really; acidic words spat at you in whispers, torn books here and there, a subtle exclusion from classroom activities... Small, inconsequential things that made you amused on a good day and irritated on a bad one. Harmless.

Or so you thought.

When the foot swung into your stomach, you swore you heard a sickening crack and you were flung into the wall behind you. Blood gurgled in your mouth and you spat it out on the ground in front of you.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. After spending an entire year in the Devildom and making a pact with all of the demon brothers, you had gotten complacent. Believing your bullies to be merely harmless schoolyard types, you had followed them to a shady and secluded part of the R.A.D. because they wanted to "talk".

You had paid dearly for carelessness, completely caught off guard when one of them pierced you with a sharp jab of their arm. You remember feeling nothing but winded at first, shock numbing your nerves until you saw red trailing down their hand, dripping off the sharpened claws of their nails.

It was then that a scorching pain spread out from the gored out hole in your abdomen, spreading out to the rest of your body.

In hindsight, everything happened so fast. Before you knew it, you were slumped over on the floor and bleeding out. Even through your blurry vision the demons' malicious glee was clear as day.

"Not so proud now, are you?" one of them spat out. "Always looking down on us just because you were hanging off the arms of the Lords of Hell. Guess we're the ones looking down on you now!"

You were starting to shiver from the cold as blood soaked through your clothes, watching the demons advance while wondering if you were really going to die from as something as petty as this.

And then, one of your pact marks flared to life.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━✿Ꮚ´•̥̥̥ ‸ •̥̥̥Ꮚ✿━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Lucifer

cw: body horror

A single black feather slowly drifted down onto the ground before you. The rest of the world turned hazy as your gaze focused onto the feather, long and elegant and delicate, watching as it fell into a pool of your blood. A pair of polished black shoes entered your line of sight before their owner crouched down in front of you, uncaring of the blood seeping into and staining his clothes.

A gloved hand reached out to cup your cheek, a gentle touch against your skin, and you sluggishly moved your gaze up to Lucifer's face.

"MC," he sighed. His eyes were dark, a complete contrast to the tender look on his face. "Whatever shall I do with you?"

His wings stretched out behind him, a dark expanse of feathers that curled around the both of you, separating you from the world... and the world from you.

"Lucifer," you began, but he was quick to press his thumb against your bottom lip, halting your words.

"This isn't a one-off, I assume?" he asked despite already knowing the answer. You avert your gaze and he sighs again. "Why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to bother you," you said.

"I see." Lucifer's hand moved to pull out a black silk handkerchief, using it to clean the blood off your face. "Then it seems that I have failed you, if you believe that relying on me was not an option at all."

"That's not true...!" You were interrupted by Lucifer gathering you in his arms, while he took care to avoid your wounds as much as possible. With a gentle hand, he guided you to rest your head against his shoulder as he slowly shifted to a standing position, ready to bring you back to the House of Lamentations. His arms were warm around you, a comforting presence that made you feel safe and secure. You felt that, if you were by his side, you would never run into harm again.

It was then that you finally remembered your bullies, the ones who had put you in this state in the first place. Had they left the area, running off at the sight of Lucifer? That was most likely the case, you thought, but you still couldn't help but peer over Lucifer's shoulder and through the gaps of his wings, to check.

Your breath caught in your throat. Lucifer immediately placed a hand over your eyes.

"Shhh," he said. "Don't dirty your eyes with such a disgusting sight."

It was now that you were finally aware of a strange and disturbing cracking sound coming from behind Lucifer. A brand new chill settled down upon you, your body seizing up with fear. Suddenly, you wanted nothing but to put space between Lucifer and yourself.

As if he were aware of your thoughts, Lucifer shifted his hand from your eye to the back of your head, cradling you close to his body as he started to walk away from the scene. His wings were properly positioned this time and you were unable to peer through them.

Lucifer Morningstar. The First-Born. One of the strongest Lords of Hell. These titles hadn't meant anything to you before, but now they were are the forefront of your mind. The glimpse you had stolen before Lucifer turned your gaze away was now burnt into your retinas.

Your bullies' bodies hovered in the air with their limbs stretched impossibly long, curled up and tangled around their twisted bodies like a grotesque ball of yarn. Their mouths were torn open, jaws dislodged and handing horrible from their skull, eyes wide as they screamed silently for someone, anyone to put them out of their misery.

You knew that they would not die, not until someone found them and decided to kill them. And, considering the area they were in, it would take an extremely long time before someone were to chance upon them.

They had planned to use the remoteness of the location against you. They never could have thought that it would be used against them in the same way. This was something Lucifer had definitely taken into consideration.

Lucifer's arms were a cage around you; what was once comforting now felt suffocating.

"Lucifer," you managed to force out. You felt him lean down and press a kiss against your hair.

"It seems that I have to teach you how to be more reliant on me," Lucifer said in a tone as if he were speaking about the weather. "It wouldn't do for something like this to happen again."

"It won't," you were quick to say. "It won't happen again, I promise."

Lucifer looked down at you. You were the only thing reflected in his eyes as he gave a small, gentle smile that gave you a sense of dread that went down to your very bones.

"Don't worry, little lamb. For you, I will be a very forgiving master."

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━[ᓀ˵◇˵ᓂ]━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Mammon

cw: violence and a lil bit of gore

The sudden caw of a crow drew the attention of your bullies. You tried to take the chance to stand up and run but merely shifting in place caused the pain in your abdomen to flare up, white hot and blinding. You hiss through your teeth, swallowing your yelp of pain.

There is a second caw. You look up and see at least a dozen crows perched up on windowsills and tree branches, their heads tilted in the direction of your bullies and their dark eyes glinting with something that invoked a sense of unease within you.

"Why are y'all distracted by a bunch of birds?" the lead demon barked out. They were not doing a good job of masking their apprehension. "We're here to teach this pathetic human a lesson, not gawk at crows!"

"But aren't those..." another student began.

The flutter of wings echo all around. More crows land on nearby fixtures; ten, fifteen, twenty. You slowly look up and see more black shapes flying in the sky above, circling the area like vultures to their prey. You hear the sound of wings flapping once again, closer this time, and Mammon lands in front of you, wings spread and in his demon form.

"...aren't those Lord Mammon's crows?" the student finished weakly. The demons were looking pale now, realizing just what they had done. You paid their expression no notice, filled with relief now that your guardian demon is here. Mammon, who despite his reputation, was always your reliable protector. Mammon, who always went out of his way to ensure your safety in the Devildom. Mammon, who... who was holding one of the demons up by their skull, uncaring of their struggles and pleas as their hands scramble against Mammon's, their toes skimming the ground. The other two demons were already running off, uncaring of their companion but Mammon didn't seem to notice, his attention on the demon in front of him.

In the back of your mind, you noticed that the demon was the one who had stabbed you with their hand.

"Mammon?" your voice came out in a whisper. The demon's pleas turn into screams of agony as Mammon tightened his grip. "Mammon!"

Mammon turned to you, eyes bright and feverish.

"Don't worry, MC," Mammon chirped. "I'll be quick!"

Mammon didn't lie. Immediately after his words, there was a frenzy of feathers and caws and screams. Just as quickly as it happened, the crows dispersed and the body dropped to the ground with a sickening thump, an unrecognizable, bloodied version of itself.

Mammon was holding something in his hands and, after he made his way back to you, he placed it in your lap. The blood-soaked wallet seemed to weigh a ton, its blood further staining your uniform. Mammon was beaming, standing in front of you like a dog waiting to be praised.

"That's compensation!" he said in his usual, nonchalant tone. "You deserve it after what they put ya through!"

Another caw sounded out and you couldn't help but flinch violently. Mammon was immediately kneeling beside you, soothing you with his bloodied hands. The sickening smell of bloodrust grew stronger with his proximity and you fought the urge to lean away.

A few crows hopped towards you, dropping more bloodied items onto the ground beside you. Staring blankly at those items, you recognize them as the necklace one of the other demons had on, a ring one of the demons who had fled the scene had worn, a earring, a tooth, bits of gold-tipped fingernails...

You lurched to the side, uncaring of the pain that bloomed in your abdomen, and started heaving. Mammon gently pat your back, trying to comfort you. It only made you more nauseous, the scent of blood overwhelming your senses once again.

For the first time since you arrived in Devildom, Mammon's presence invoked a sense of fear within you.

"I should've stayed by your side," you heard Mammon mutter. "Shouldn't have allowed those bastards to get to ya."

"Mammon..." You could predict the trajectory of his thoughts and desperately wished you were wrong. "It's not your fault," you choked out. Please, please, please—

"But it was!" Mammon argued. "If I were always by your side, they wouldn't have had the chance to even touch you!"

"It was my fault," you begged. "I didn't want to bother you so I didn't say anything!"

Mammon frowned. "I didn't think you needed protecting even from yourself."

oh. oh no.

Mammon carefully scooped you up into his arms. This time you could not help your flinch, but Mammon didn't seem to notice.

"It's okay!" Mammon said cheerfully. "If you can't take care of yourself, I'll take care of ya! I'm your guardian demon, after all!"

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━⸜₍๑•⌔•๑ ₎⸝━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Leviathan

cw: drowning, but u watch it happen. doesn't happen to u

The demon suddenly froze in their step, their hands coming up to grab their throat. They curled over and started coughing, started heaving, out long and stringy bits of black and green matter.

No matter how much the demon vomited out it never seemed to end and soon it was strewn all over the ground, accompanied with the pungent scent of rotten fish and the salty tang of the sea.

You blink and Leviathan was suddenly standing beside you, sharp teeth bared in a snarl and long black tail whipping around in agitation.

"Levi...?" you spoke slowly. You had never seen him this agitated before

"They hurt you," Leviathan said. His voice was low with an eerie quality to it; it was like a reverb, an echo, and it brought to your mind stories of hallucinatory voices sailors often heard at sea, beckoning them overboard.

The demons were frozen in place as Leviathan stalked towards them, slowly circling around them like a shark around prey. Then, another demon started choking, doubling over and throwing up the same black and green mess the first one did. The smell of fish and the sea grew stronger and you suddenly realize that they were vomiting out seaweed.

"I was wondering what was so important to you that you forgot that we were going to talk home together but I see now."

The third demon fell to their knees, clawing at their throat as they started throwing up seaweed as well.

"All this time I thought that you finally realized that I was just a no-good loser otaku... but that wasn't the case, was it?"

Levithan's voice was smooth, calm, and still retaining that ethereal quality to it. It felt like it was being spoken directly into your head rather than coming from in front of you. It made goosebumps rise up on your skin.

"Levi—" you tried again but you were interrupted.

"I should have known better!" Leviathan laughed. "My Henry wouldn't do that to me! No, the fault lies with these interlopers, trying to take you away! Trying to kill you!"

The first demon's face was turning pale. They tried to gasp for air but a strange froth poured out of their mouth instead, followed by water, copious amounts of seawater splashing violently onto the floor.

"But it's okay!" Leviathan turned to you, smiling brightly. It was the same smile he gave when he got a new high score on the game and was eagerly awaiting your reaction, it was the same smile he gave when he ran up to you with a drink in hand while you were queuing for him in C.S., it was the same smile he gave when he managed to get two tickets to an event and brought you along as his plus one. "I'll protect you! And I'll get revenge for you too, just like the Lord of Shadows does for Henry! Like in Volume 17, when Henry was kidnapped by the Lord of Lechery's jealous ex-paramours, the Lord of Shadows showed up and summoned his familiar to rip them apart..."

Leviathan glanced back at the demons for a moment. All three of them were coughing out seawater now and turning shades of blue. Long, red gashes left behind by desperate nails ran down their necks as they tried, in vain, to claw for air. Seawater was also dripping from this nostrils, bubbling from the horrible breaths of air they were trying to take. There was a sneer on Leviathan's face but it was quick to disappear when he looked back at you. When he stepped closer, you noticed that the pupils of his eyes had turned to sharp slits.

"I can't summon Lotan here to punish them; Lucifer would be mad and more importantly you might get hurt! So I did the next best thing! I know that drowning is a very slow and painful way to die, especially if you fight against it, so I thought that it would be a suitable alternative for a punishment!"

He looked so pleased with himself. It was like killing people for revenge was on the same level of enjoyment for him as getting merch of a character he liked.

Without a care for the demons behind him, Leviathan quickly made his way up to you, making sure to be careful as he picked you up off the ground.

"See?" he grumbled, "this is why I say that staying in my room is so much better." He paused. "Ah, do you want to see them drown the entire way?" You quickly shook your head no. "Yeah, you're right. That'll take too much time. I'll bring you to Satan to get you wounds healed. Afterwards, don't think of even taking a step out of my room, alright! You've already seen how dangerous the outside world is!"

With that last sentence, he carried you away. You desperately hope that Leviathan was joking about it but something about the way his tail curled possessively around your ankle made you think otherwise.

In your periphery vision, you notice the demons lying on the floor, some of them twitching and some of them writhing around. You close your eyes, and look away.

⭒☆━━━━━━～>º˵)ニニニニ>━━━━━━☆⭒

Satan

cw: just. loads of violence and gore

There was a large, gaping hole in one of the demon's abdomens, directly mirroring yours. Except it was larger, more brutal, and much more horrible than the one they inflicted on you.

Satan removed his hand from the demon's abdomen with a loud, wet shlick. The demon fell to their knees, clutching at their open abdomen. Satan smiled a bright, close-eyed smile. For once his spiked tail wasn't curled around his leg, instead gently swaying back and forth as he reached forward to yank the demon's intestines from the hole.

Perhaps it was due to the manner of the wound or the force Satan used but it didn't take long for the intestine to snap and for Satan to hurl it to the side in annoyance.

"Can't even do one thing right," he sneered. He raised his foot only to harshly stomp down on the demon's back. It landed with a sickening crack and the demon collapsed onto the floor, spine bent at an irregular angle. They were still screaming in pain. They were still alive.

Your voice was trapped in your chest, your eyes wide open and unable to be torn from the horrific scene happening in front of you.

Satan moved onto the next demon, grabbing them by the hair and pulling sharply to the side. When the third demon tried to scramble away, Satan froze them in place with a simple flick of his fingers and an uttered spell.

With his attention now turned back to the demon in his grasp, Satan used his other hand to hold the demon's head in place as he slowly pulled at their hair until it started peeling off, a thin layer of skin attached to the base of the strands and holding them together. That wasn't enough for Satan, though, and he inserted his long fingernails into the demon's eyes, scooping them out with barely contained glee.

"This is what you get for thinking that you can even look at MC," Satan told the demon. He then dropped that one onto the ground as well, kicking them in the stomach and sending them skidding across the rough earth.

It was at this moment that you realized that this was the demon who had kicked you into the wall... and the earlier demon was the one who had stabbed you with their nails. The last demon, the one Satan was dragging towards you now, was the one who had called you out in the first place. The one who had put the entire bullying thing into motion.

Satan kicked the back of their legs, making them drop onto their knees in front of you. Now that you had a much closer, unwanted look at them, you notice that their lips had been stapled shut, the dull metal gleaming slightly in the limited light.

"Sorry for taking so long, kitten," Satan apologized to you in his usual, gentlemanly tone. "I might have gone a little bit overboard." When he directed his words to the demon trembling in front of you, he was much harsher. "What are you waiting for? Not going to apologize?!"

The demon made some muffled cries, completely unintelligible from behind his cruel gag. A nasty smile spread across Satan's face. "Oh, I forgot. You can't speak, can you? Well, it seems like you'll have to apologize in another manner."

Satan reached around and ran a finger down from the center of the demon's collarbone to their sternum. From this close you could see the sweat dripping down the demon's face, hear the whimpers from their throat, feel their agony as Satan peeled off the left side of the demon's skin, revealing their rib cage and organs.

"You can still apologize with your heart," Satan told the demon. "Can't you?"

"S... Satan." Somehow, you managed to muster up the willpower to speak. "Satan, I can't do this."

Satan's green eyes were on you now. He was confused for a moment before clarity entered them. You waited for him to move the demon away, but he never did. Instead, he dug his fingers into the demon's rib cage and pulled it out, like one would with a closet door.

The demon screamed from behind his gag.

"Of course, silly me. You wouldn't be able to reach his heart due to his rib being in the way! Well it should be easier now, yes?"

You were going to be sick.

"I don't... I don't want this, Satan," you forced out through gritted teeth. Satan frowned, but it was directed to the demon.

"Hear that? MC doesn't accept your apology." He discarded the demon to the side before kneeling down in front of you, offering blood-soaked hand for you to take. "I'd love to torture them for you some more, MC," he said gently, "but I don't think now's a good time. You need to get your wounds cleaned and healed."

You closed your eyes and looked away. Even though you were trying your best to block it out, the scent of blood was still strong in the air.

You heard Satan chuckle in front of you. "I know," he said in an indulgent tone, "but I'm serious. I read that humans are a lot more fragile than demons so I need to disinfect your wounds at the very least. We can always come back later; it's not like they'll be running away any time soon."

You tried to tell Satan that there was nothing more you wanted than to never see this sight again, but you couldn't open your mouth without throwing up.

"If you don't stop throwing a tantrum, I'll get angry," despite his words, his voice was more amused than anything. You forced yourself to speak.

"It... hurts," you ground out. "I can't... move."

"Oh." His voice was deeper now. Your eyes flew open to see him trembling with rage as he glared towards one of the nearby demons. "I see. It appears that I've been too lenient with them." His gaze went back to you and softened. "Don't worry, I'll make them pay their dues. Now, this might hurt but I'll try my best to be gentle."

Without giving you a chance to react, Satan scooped you up into his arms taking care not to aggravate any of your wounds.

"We'll return to the House of Lamentations first," Satan told you. "When I'm sure you're fine, I'll bring demons to you instead. How does that sound?"

Instead of answering, you leaned your head against his chest and pretended to sleep. You hoped the demons died before Satan came back to get them... for their sake.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━(=🝦 ༝ 🝦=)━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

sorry things are short from here on out. im tire. d

Asmodeus

cw: suicide

You hear Asmodeus gasp before he quickly placed himself between you and the demons. Relief flooded you at the sight of your friend.

"Darling! What happened to you?!" he bemoaned, reaching forward to wipe a smear of blood off of your face. You smile weakly at him.

"I just got a little hurt, that's all. Can you bring me home?" you asked. Behind him, you can see the demons backing away.

"Hurt...?" Asmodeus's eyes trailed down and landed on the horrid wound in your abdomen. You blink and suddenly found him in his demon form, wings twitching with agitation.

"Asmo...?"

Asmodeus abruptly stood up and turned to face the demons. You see them freeze in place and an eerie blankness washed over their faces.

"My darling is hurt," he whined. "Do you know who was the one who did it?"

The demons pointed at each other, neither of them willing to take the blame. You see Asmodeus cock his hip and rest his cheek against the palm of his hand.

"There's so many conflicting answers that I'm soo confused. Ah! I just had a great idea! I want you to kill that horrible, horrible person who harmed by darling. You can do that, right?"

In a blink of an eye, the demons turned on each other, ripping each other to shreds with the utmost of ferocity. Meanwhile, Asmodeus stood in front of them, calmly watching them tear each other apart whilst humming a cheerful melody. Soon, only one demon was left, bloodied and bruised, and they collapsed in front of Asmodeus.

"Wow!" Asmodeus cheered superficially. "Now, I want you to kill yourself!"

The demon faltered. Asmodeus grabbed them by the chin, long nails leaving angry red lines on their skin as he forced them to look into his eyes.

"I want you," he repeated slowly, "to kill yourself."

The demon's expression was completely blank and open as they nodded at Asmodeus before placing their hands around their neck and squeezing.

Asmodeus stepped back to stand by your side as the demon slowly suffocated themselves to death.

"Isn't it great!" Asmodeus asked you. You turned to look at him and noticed that his eyes were bright and feverish. "How obedient they are! They all do what I want them to do without question..." Asmodeus trailed off, disdain in his eyes as he watched the demon die in front of him.

"No it isn't!"

Asmodeus blinked. Confusion was clear in his eyes. "Why not?" he questioned. "I didn't have to dirty my hands, you didn't have to dirty your hands, and they all got what they deserved!"

"Death? Was death what they deserved?" You searched his eyes for any signs of remorse but you found none. Asmodeus was one of the gentlest demons you knew... you supposed that the keyword there that you had been ignoring the entire time was 'demon'.

"They hurt you, my dear. They sullied your beautiful form with their ugly selves, of course they deserved death! If I weren't worried about getting blood on my outfit, I'd have them draw it out, too!"

"This is wrong," you muttered to yourself. "This isn't right."

"Wrong? Not right? Honey, you're in the Devildom," Asmodeus cooed. He gently carded his fingers through your hair as he spoke. "Unfortunately, might is right here."

You shiver and curl into yourself. A frown graced Asmodeus' features and he was quick to try and comfort you.

"You'll get used to it soon," he said. "And even if you don't, you shouldn't worry! I won't let it happen again. How could I allow those tear stains on your pretty little face?"

His eyes were glowing eerily.

"Just... introduce all of the people you meet to me, alright? Then you'll never have to worry about anyone hurting you ever again♡"

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━₍ᐢ ̥ ̞ ̥ᐢ₎ ━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Beelzebub

cw: you know that thing in the mummy (1999) where the scarab beetles crawl under the person's skin and then eat them from the inside out? yeah.

You had never seen Beelzebub so furious before.

He held you in his arms as the demons before you paled at the sight of the sixth Lord of Hell.

"MC, you're hurt," he said slowly. His grip on you tightened for a brief moment before they loosened, Beelzebub clearly trying his best to control his strength so that you wouldn't get hurt.

There was a strange buzzing sound in the air. You assumed that it was coming from Beelzebub's wings.

"I'll be fine Beel," you try to comfort him. "It's just a flesh wound."

Beelzebub shook his head. "You're not fine," he insisted. "They tried to hurt you. They hurt you."

The buzzing was getting louder now. You touched Beelzebub's cheek and a warm fuzziness made itself known in your chest as Beelzebub leaned into your touch. "I'll be fine," you repeated. "I just need to get to the hospital, or a demon equivalent of it, and then rest up."

"I'll bring you to Satan," Beelzebub said. "But first, you need to see."

"See what, Beel?"

"Punishment," he said solemnly, directing your gaze towards the demons who were busy clawing at themselves. At first you couldn't tell what was going on but you soon managed to discern small little bumps moving around under the demons' skin.

The buzzing sound was louder, now.

One of the demons finally opened their mouth to scream and, to your absolutely disgust and horror, small black beetles crawled out of their mouth. As if it were a signal, insects started crawling out of the other demons' orifices as well, centipedes and ants and little white larvae, wiggling their way out before burrowing themselves into the demon's flesh once again.

The few seconds it took for the insects to eat away the demons felt like a lifetime, your eyes fixed onto the absolutely hellish sight in front of you. When the bones of the demons fell onto the ground, most of the insects scattered but some still dug into the bones, feasting on the bone marrow. You slapped your hand over your mouth, trying your hardest not to throw up while you were still being carried by Beelzebub.

"They hurt you," Beelzebub said. His voice felt so far away. "So I hurt them back."

You squeezed your eyes shut. The buzzing hum of insects did not allow itself to be tuned out.

"So... you have to tell me if people want to hurt you, okay? I'll protect you."

Beelzebub was no longer in his demon form, but the buzzing sound did not go away for a long, long time.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━ᙙᙖ━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Belphegor

cw: just violence i guess

The demon froze in their tracks, eyes staring straight ahead at something you could not see.

"What's wrong?" one of the other demons asked. They didn't seem to hear them as fear dawned on their face and they started backing away.

"Get away from me!" the demon screamed. They tripped over themselves and fell flat onto the floor, but they did not pause in their attempts to scramble away. "Get away from me! No! No! No!!"

"What's going on? Why're you acting like..." Another demon suddenly stared down at their feet for a moment before they started to heave. The last demon had a moment of sanity before they, too, suddenly started looking around them in fear.

"Ahhh! It's on me, it's in me, get it off, get it out!" they screamed, violently scratching at their skin. The first demon had stopped moving back and instead started waving their arms above them, fighting off an unseen assailant while the second demon was attempting to shove their entire hand down their throat. The third demon was scratching at their eyes, uncaring of how blood was now running down their body.

The first demon started clawing at themselves. The second demon slit open their stomach. The third demon clawed out their eyes.

Before you could see any more, a pair of cold hands wrapped around your shoulders, effectively drawing your attention away from the scene in front of you. A tail brushed against your face, blocking your vision entirely as Belphegor snuggled up to you from behind, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"MC... Are you okay?" he asked.

"I... I'm fine, but those demons, they—"

"—hurt you, right? That's why they're getting punished right now." You felt his self-satisfied grin against your neck and realized that whatever they were going through right now was the work of the demon behind you.

"Belphie, what did you do?!"

"It's nothing much, really." He was proud of what he did. "I just gave him some nightmares. Or hallucinations, as some people call it."

You opened your mouth, to plead, to beg, you didn't know, but Belphie interrupted you before you could speak.

"Anyway, they're not important. You need to go to Satan, right? He has some healing spells that would be of use..." Belphegor slowly untangled himself from you. "Can you walk on your own? Or do you need my help?"

You didn't want his help but, when you tried to stand up, the pain rendered you immobile. Belphegor caught sight of the wound in your abdomen and flattened his lips. For a moment, you were transported back to the entrance of the attic, Belphegor looking down at you with loathing and rage in his eyes, but the moment quickly vanished and Belphegor reached out to pick you up.

"I'm normally the one being carried but I can make an exception for you," he said in a faux, lighthearted tone.

The demons' screams became louder. More terrified.

"You'll have to make it up to me, though," Belphegor continued, already walking towards the House of Lamentations. "When you recover, I expect lots of cuddles. I won't accept any rejections~"

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━ʕ -ᴥ-ʔ━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh this thing got away from me. well as the tags say i want to do a follow up to this but idk what sort of follow up it'll be. def yandere though. speaking of yandere, watch this space for the next yandere thing that gets churned out, because i like yandere a lot, anyway it's going to be yandere brothers x mc. all of them, at the same time. will mc survive? probably! will they be happy they did? probably not. :) anyway i hope to be able to do more yandere content in the future

edit: SORRY I FORGOT THE CONTENT WARNINGS FOR THE FIRST 3

edit2: inserted one (1) instance of satan calling u kitten for a friend

#obey me #obey me x reader #yandere obey me #anyway i want to write a follow up to this #but what kind of follow up would it be... hm #sorry for the shortness of the last 3... i swear i love them it's just like 4am and i have an early day tomorrow #obey me fanfic #iyumeu writes om #obey me shall we date #obey me x mc #sigh tags #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub x reader #belphegor x reader

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looooooooomis · 3 years

Text

FINAL GIRL | FIVE

You were his final girl. And there was no chance in hell that anyone or anything was going to mess that up.

p a r t five | t h e c a b i n (part I)

masterlist here

pairing: Billy Loomis x f!reader word count: 5.6k (I’M SORRY I GOT CARRIED AWAY) warnings: s m u t (18 +!!!!!)

A/N: after 8 months of MIA, SHE’S BACK BABY!!! this is part 1 of 2 of our fav couple being at the cabin x next chapter will have soft moments I promise lmao

You should have been paying more attention.

If you’d been paying more attention, you wouldn’t have had five sets of eyes currently watching your every move, waiting for an answer you didn’t have. Why had you thought it was a good idea to stay up as late as you had packing your overnight bag for the cabin? If you had gone to bed at a reasonable hour, you wouldn’t have been as braindead as you currently were and, if you hadn’t been braindead, you wouldn’t have wound up in whatever ring of hell you were currently stuck in as your friends stared at you as though you’d grown a second head.

You pleaded with your tongue to say anything, pleaded for your brain to register a decent enough lie to make this uncomfortable silence end but nothing came out of your mouth. Only a pathetic hum and a gusto of forced laughter.

You wanted to die.

It should have been an easy enough answer to what was an even easier question. One that you’d practiced answering for the last two days and yet, as the moment for the lie came and went, you were left scrambling like a fucking moron.

You didn’t dare look at Billy as Sid curled into his side knowing if you managed to catch his coffee-coloured stare, you’d only be met with something between terror and amusement as you royally shit the bed. So, instead, you did the next best thing. You replayed the question over and over again in your head until you were driven mad.

‘Are you up for a movie this weekend?’

It was a simple enough question, one you’d managed to decline easily enough but, as Tatum frowned and asked the one question you were expecting to hear, your mind went blank.

‘Why? What are you doing?’

The answer you were supposed to say: I have to babysit my cousin in Santa Rosa all weekend. The answer they got? Silence. Pure, awkward as fuck, silence.

“Earth to Y/N,” Tatum laughed, brows furrowing. “Are you alive?”

“Sorry,” you huffed out a quiet laugh and shook your head, “I barely slept last night, I’m braindead.”

While it wasn’t a lie, you were still on edge. You’d think after months of sneaking around with the asshole sitting in front of you that you would have chilled out a little more but not today. Maybe it was the nerves of a full weekend away with Billy Loomis as his girlfriend hosted a fucking movie night sans her boyfriend and best friend – but something was making you stumble over what should have been second nature to you.

“You feeling okay?” Sid, the angel she was, asked with a small frown. Your stomach twisted in the familiar way it always did when your sweet friend showed concern. Concern which you most definitely didn’t deserve. “You seem…off.”

It would have been so easy to confess your dark little twisted affair with Billy right then and there. To just open your mouth and let the truth of everything you’d been doing behind her back play out. But you knew it would break her heart and, more than that, you were a fucking coward.

“I’m fine, Sid,” you smacked on a small smile and leaned into your locker. You had one more class until you were home free. Free of your friends’ inquiring eyes, free of Biology, free of Woodsboro. If you managed to get through this incredibly uncomfortable moment. “And I would if I could, trust me. I have to babysit my little cousin in Santa Rosa.” You feigned disappointment with a small frown. You could see Stu’s lips tug up in mild amusement out of the corner of your eye. “She’s nine, so if I don’t come back on Monday, know that she annoyed me to death.”

Randy scoffed and casually threw his arm around your neck. “Every day I’m thankful I don’t have any snot-nosed kids in my family. Losing my weekend to babysit? I’d rather rot.”

Despite your guilt, you managed a small smile as you looked across at him. “I think the kid would rather you rot, too. You’d be a terrible babysitter.”

“She’s right,” Tatum smirked, “you’d show the kid one of your weirdo movies where a girl with big tits is running helplessly away from her killer. It’d scar the kid for life.”

“Or,” Randy mused, “prepare them for the real world. Put some hair on their chest and all that shit.”

“Furthering my point, Meeks, you’d be a shit babysitter.” You laughed. “But, yeah, I’ll be suffering at the hands of a nine-year-old, so you guys have fun without me.”

“How about you, lover boy?” Tatum asked, looking across at Billy. “Will you be joining us this weekend?”

You should have averted your eyes. Should have done anything besides wait, with bated breath, to see what Billy would say. Slowly, those brown eyes tapered over towards you just briefly before looking at Tatum. With a casual shrug of his shoulders, Billy shook his head and leaned into Sid. “Can’t,” he merely said, “I’m going up north with my dad. He wants to get some of his affairs in order or something, I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair. “All I know is I was promised free beer if I helped him. So, I’m helping him.”

If Sid caught onto his lie, her face didn’t betray her once. And, as she looked up at her boyfriend with doting eyes, you couldn’t help but feel that pang of shame slice into your gut once again. She believed him. She always believed him. Believed you. Regardless of how good it felt to have Billy, that shame of knowing just who it was unwittingly hurting in the process never dissipated.

“You sure you guys won’t need help?” Sid asked, further digging that knife of shame into your chest. “Besides this movie, I’ve got nothing else going on this weekend.”

“Real nice,” Randy teased. “She’d rather watch Billy’s dad punch away at a fucking calculator then sit down with her nearest and dearest.”

Billy ignored Randy entirely as he glanced down at the brunette. “I’m sure,” he affirmed, giving her a quick squeeze. “Enjoy the movie night. I’ll be there for the next one.”

He lied so effortlessly, so casually, that it should have unnerved you. But it didn’t. Because for as good of a liar Billy Loomis was, you were right here with him. This dangerous little game the two of you were playing was becoming second nature to you and for as much as it pained you to see Sidney get lied to, you couldn’t help yourself.

You loved Billy. Billy loved you. Right person, wrong time. Only rather than wait like you knew you should have, Billy’s glow was much too enthralling to miss. You were both moths to each other’s’ flames and no amount of guilt or shame was strong enough to outweigh the otherworldly affliction the two of you had for one another.

The bell signifying your final class rung out, snapping you out of your brief reverie as you blinked and focused on pushing Randy off of you. “Want to drive me to the bus station?” You asked him. “I don’t want to drive all the way to Santa Rosa, so I bought a bus ticket.”

“Tonight?” Randy considered it briefly before shrugging. “Sure, I guess. I’ve got a shift tonight at seven, though. When’s your bus leave?”

“Six thirty,” you lied, mainly doing this so that should anyone drive by your house this weekend and see your car still neatly parked in your driveway, they wouldn’t bat an eye. “I owe you.”

“Yeah, you do,” Randy agreed. “And, lucky for you, I accept a lot of different payment options.” He wriggled his brows, earning a playful smack from you and an annoyed glare from Billy. Thankfully, Randy didn’t catch onto the latter. “Pick you up at six?”

You nodded. “Perfect.”

With your eyes flickering to Billy’s once more, you managed to shoot everyone a quick smile before disappearing down the hall towards Biology. Just how you’d managed to dance your way out of what could have been an incredibly awkward moment, you didn’t know. But as you felt that weighty stare of Billy’s on your back as you walked away, there was an air of excitement that swallowed you whole.

No matter how much guilt you felt, no matter how sick it made you to see Sidney get hurt, even if she didn’t quite know about just yet, there was a much larger part of you that couldn’t wait to get Billy alone.

Because for the first time in the seven months since you’d started this torrid little affair, you were finally getting Billy all to yourself. No prying eyes, no secret kisses, no having to hide every part of your relationship with the man. None of that.

This weekend, it was you and it was Billy.

And you couldn’t fucking wait.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Randy, being the superstar he was, had dropped you off at the station a little after six-fifteen and by six-thirty-two, just around the time the actual bus was leaving for Santa Rosa, you were scrambling into Billy’s car with a wild grin on your face.

Just how the pair of you had managed to pull it off, especially given your brain lapse earlier in the day, was beyond you. But, as Billy tore off down the main street leading to the freeway, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of freedom engulf you the farther and farther you got from town.

It was exhilarating.

And, as you glanced at Billy, who couldn’t have looked more like a movie star with his dark locks blowing with the wind cascading in through his open window, you couldn’t help but reach across the divide to gently squeeze his jean-clad thigh.

“Thank you,” you found yourself muttering and as those brown eyes met yours, you couldn’t help but grin. “For your stupid key proposal. In hindsight, it was very sweet.”

The dimple in Billy’s cheek deepened as his own grin grew. “Glad you let me steal you away?”

You loosened your seatbelt momentarily and leaned across to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Very glad.” You made a move to pull away but stopped when he gently grabbed your chin with the hand not holding the wheel. “What—”

The kiss, while dangerously stupid, was short and sweet but the emotion behind it, the genuine happiness that exuded out of Billy in those few seconds was palpable. “I really do fucking love you, you know that?”

“You’ve mentioned it,” you hummed and slinked back into your seat. When his large hand found your thigh, he gave it a firm squeeze that sent shockwaves throughout your whole body.

“Not going to say it back?” He teased, giving you a sidelong glance as he drew nearer to the freeway.

“I’d rather show it.” Rather than put your seatbelt back on, you shimmed in your seat and leaned into him as your fingers scraped along his thighs towards the button of his jeans. “Eyes on the road, Loomis.”

Easier said than done, Billy thought, torn between watching the road and watching you unzip his jeans. Raising his ass out of the seat just long enough to allow you to tug his pants down his thighs, the second Billy saw yours eyes light up as his now somewhat erect cock sprung free of his jeans, keeping his eyes on the road seemed impossible. But, the second he saw that pretty mouth of yours perk up in anticipation, it was game over. “Are you trying to get us killed?”

A low chuckle escaped your lips as you began to pump his length with your hand. “Focus on the road, Billy.”

“You say that like it’s easy.” Not being able to keep his hands off of you, he reached for your nipple and gave it a pinch through your shirt. “Take your shirt off, baby.”

“Shut up and drive.” You chided him, shimming in your seat so that you were on your knees leaning over the console. His cock was rock hard now and, as you ran your tongue alongside his length, from the base of it all the way up to coax your tongue along the precum that had gathered along his head, you felt him shiver beneath you.

“Fuck,” he hissed, tangling his fingers through your hair. You were too fucking good with that mouth of yours.

Still pumping the base of his cock with one hand, you swirled your tongue along the tip of his dick again before taking that perfectly girthy cock in your mouth. His grip tightened on your hair and your eyes watered as he pushed your head down to fully take the length of him inside of your mouth. He heard you gag on him but even as his grip eased up, you continued your pursuit of deepthroating him.

His breathing was shallow as he felt your hot mouth all over him. Between the sounds of your wet mouth taking him in and the occasional gag as you choked on his length, Billy was in heaven.

But having you this close as you fucked him with your mouth whilst still fully clothed was killing him. He needed to feel you. He wanted to feel your juices on his fingers and running down those perfect fucking thighs as he fingerfucked you. He wanted to hear you moan, feel you moan on his cock as he made you feel as good as you were making him feel.

He wanted all of you, needed all of you.

Trying his damnedest not to shut his eyes as your mouth brought him closer to the edge, he reached beneath you to work on your own zipper but when that proved to be impossible, a frustrated growl tore out of his lips. “Undo your pants.” He hissed through bared teeth.

You hummed against his dick which nearly sent him into the other land of traffic. “No,” you purred, “I want to make you feel good.”

With one hand on the wheel and the other now gliding up and down your back as you fucked him with your mouth, Billy couldn’t help but buck into your mouth as you began to massage his balls. He was going to bust and soon if he wasn’t careful.

You were too fucking good and he was too fucking in love with you not to get lost in the way you made him feel.

“Touch yourself, at least,” he breathed out, desperate to see that pretty cunt. “Please, baby.”

Not granting him the satisfaction, you simply dug your nails into his thighs and moaned onto his cock and the sensation of it alone was almost enough to make him come down your throat. It seemed to slither around his cock, making him twitch and buck into your mouth.

But it was the second you moaned out his name as you swirled your wet mouth along the head of his dick one final time, swallowing back his precum with a contented hum, that Billy blew his loud inside of your mouth.

For a good five seconds, he didn’t care if he crashed the goddamn car as he watched you swallow his seed. He was bucking into your mouth, his breathing was ragged, as you guzzled him back and, as you finally released his cock with a pop, Billy almost lost it.

With a devilish grin, you simply wiped a finger along the edge of your lips and leaned back into your seat with a satisfied glimmer in your eyes. You knew you’d be in for it once he got his hands on you at the cabin, but for now, as you watched him lamely try and pull his jeans up his body to cover his slowly softening cock, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“What’s the matter, Billy?” You teased, fastening your seatbelt back up. “You look a little rattled.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he simpered, not bothering with the zipper or button of his jeans. Instead, he reached across the divide and grabbed for your hand as he ghosted his lips across your knuckles. “Just wait until we get to the cabin.”

With your suspicions confirmed, you couldn’t help but beam across at him as you drove further and further away from Woodsboro. That was definitely a threat and good god were you excited for its execution.

»»-------------¤-------------««

By the time you’d pulled into the Loomis family cabin, it was pitch black outside.

The moon was too high in the sky and only a sliver of its light poked through the tall pine trees that surrounded the small house but, even with the low light surrounding you, the shadows that danced along the lake was enough to bring out a small smile as you quietly made your way out of the car. You didn’t need full sun to see the beauty surrounding you and the smell of the fresh air mixed with the spice of pine made any ounce of nerves filter out of you.

You were happy.

Unreservedly so.

Glancing across the roof towards Billy, he seemed almost distracted as he looked around at the familiar surroundings. You couldn’t quite tell if he was feeling as happy as you were in those brief moments, but you couldn’t quite blame him for that. The cabin held a lot of memories within it, many of which you knew included his mother. Where you felt freed and excited, you could tell the weight of his current whereabouts was heavy on his shoulders.

“Hey,” you muttered, slicing into the quietude around you. Walking around the front of the car, those brown eyes found yours as you circled your arms around his middle. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he assured, but his voice was low and distant. All the same, however, his strong arms enveloped you as he kissed your hairline. “Lost in a memory, I guess.”

You nodded into the crook of his neck but said nothing. He needed time to decompress, to familiarize himself with a house he hadn’t been in since his mother left. So, you’d give him that time.

For what must have been minutes, the two of you simply stood at the helm of porch holding onto one another. It wasn’t until Billy placed another quick kiss to your forehead that you felt his arms slowly fall only to grasp your hand in his own. “Come on,” he hummed. His grip on your hand was firm as he walked up the steps leading to the wrap around porch and as he stuck the key inside of the lock and opened the front door, the smell of cedar surrounded you.

The cabin was gorgeous. Wooden slats covered every square inch of the small house and a small fireplace sat at the front of the house with a worn-in couch and chair facing it. It was obvious nobody had come to visit for quite some time judging by the dust lining most of the countertops and shelving units, but you didn’t care.

To you, it was perfect.

Your own little oasis with the boy you loved without any sort of outside interruption.

You released his hand to take a brief look around the small living space but you could feel his eyes on you with every step you took. You knew he was looking to get even with you after your little stunt in the car, but you also knew that he hadn’t quite been expecting the swell of emotions to hit him upon driving up to the cabin. So, you continued to wander around the cabin to both grant him the space he may or may not have needed and, simply, to snoop around.

There were family pictures lining the tables and one in particular made you smile as you caught sight of a young Billy swinging from a tire swing. With a quiet laugh, you picked the frame up and surveyed it with a fond smile on your lips. “Cute,” you remarked, looking across to catch his stare. “A little model, eh?”

Billy watched you carefully place the frame down on the table before continuing on with your self-guided tour. No matter how hard he tried, regardless of the bittersweet memories swirling around inside of his brain, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Not that he ever really could, but there was an ease rolling off of you tonight, coming off of you in waves, that drew him in.

“I’ve been thinking about this all week, you know that?” He remarked, leaning against the back of the couch as he watched you pick up another picture frame. “Just me and you. Out here alone in the woods for an entire weekend.”

“Sounds like a scary movie when you put it that way,” you goaded with a wink. “Or a really niche porno.”

“Why not a bit of both?” His molasses coloured eyes glimmered mischievously as you walked up to him and stepped between his legs. The second you were close, he pulled you flush against his chest and kissed the tip of your nose as he pushed your hair back and away from your face. “Both could be fun.”

You grinned. “I’m down for anything,” you shrugged. “So long as you promise to take me on an actual date tomorrow. We’re not just fucking like bunnies inside of the cabin all weekend.”

“Heaven forbid,” he leaned in and gave you a slow, torturous kiss.

“I’m serious, Billy,” you moaned.

Pulling away from your mouth, Billy nudged his nose against yours and nodded. “The entire population in Bumfuck, California will know you’re my girl by the end of the weekend,” he avowed, skimming his hands down to your ass to give it a firm squeeze. “I promise.”

“Oh, yeah?” You hummed, kissing him again.

His calloused hands slipped beneath your shirt and scraped up your side. “Yeah.” Digging his hips into yours, he gave you one last kiss before nodding towards the bedroom. “Take your clothes off.”

You giggled as he slapped your ass to steer you down the narrow hallway. “And if I don’t?”

“I’ll rip them off of you,” he simply said, “so either they remain in one piece or I ruin your outfit.”

You glanced down at your jeans and tank before frowning. You looked cute tonight and you’d be damned if the bastard ripped them. So, being the good girl you were, you held his stare and slowly slinked out of your clothes. His eyes seemed so much darker as he watched you strip and the small smirk he wore slowly fell into a hungry thin line as you then perched yourself on the edge of the bed, completely nude.

“You just going to stand there looking pretty or are you going to do something about this?” You slipped your fingers between your thighs and ran your fingers along your swollen clit. A low moan slipped out of your lips at the sensation. “I’m already so wet for you, Billy.”

Slowly, Billy stepped towards you and undid his belt. Leaning down, he kissed you, hard, and steered you backwards on the bed beneath you until your head reached the soft pillows. You could feel his cock straining against his jeans but rather than grant himself any sort of reprieve, you watched him gently grasp your hands and raise them above your head only to wrap his belt around your wrists.

In the blink of an eye, you were tied to the bedposts.

“Is this payback for the car blowie?” You laughed, looking up at your restrained wrists. “If it is, I can’t say I’m mad about it.”

“You wanted something between a horror movie and a niche porno, remember?” He hummed against your skin, placing sloppy kisses along the vein that ran along your neck as he pinched your nipple. “God, you’re fucking perfect. You know that?”

He bit down on your collarbone, kissing his way down your chest until his warm mouth wrapped around your nipple. You could feel his teeth slither along your breast as his tongue lapped expertly on the sensitive bud. You hissed, arching into his mouth as your wrists, on instinct, fought for freedom. “Hardly.”

His eyes met yours as he slowly released your nipple. You were in nothing, of course, but he was still fully clothed, and you hated him for it. You hungrily eyed the bulge in his jeans as he propped himself up on his arm, letting his other hand glide up your chest and neck until it cupped your cheek. His nose brushed against yours, nudging it up to allow his lips to hover just over yours. Close enough that you could almost taste them, but much too far away to satisfy the hunger you had for the man.

“I love you,” he whispered, thumb stroking the apple of your cheek as his warm, brown eyes swallowed you up. “You know that, right?”

“Yes,” you swallowed hard and tilted your head up just enough to finally catch his lips. But, just as quickly as it happened, the man pulled away and let his hand begin to roam down your body. His mouth was at your ear now, nibbling at your earlobe as his hot breath slithered against your neck. You shivered. “I love you, too.”

His voice was gruff in your ear. “I’d kill for you,” his hand continued its journey down your throat, brushing past your nipple, down the length of your stomach until reaching the small smattering of hair along your mound. He was careful to keep his hands from dipping any lower, tormenting you as best to his ability, which just about killed you, if you were being honest. “You know that?”

Bucking your hips up, you nearly growled at the lack of attention you were receiving. You were soaked and touch-starved for him. His fingers, his mouth, the erection currently poking into your thigh, anything. “I wouldn’t ask you to do that,” you managed a quiet laugh. “But I appreciate it.”

His teeth bit down on your neck again. “But, I would. I’d do anything for you, sweetheart.”

His hand slipped further down to your sopping cunt and as he slowly slipped his fingers through your wet folds, the moan he got in return nearly killed him. “Billy,” you whispered desperately. It felt as though you were going to die if you didn’t feel him inside of you. “Please.”

His lips hovered over yours and on instinct, you caught his bottom lip between your teeth and bucked your hips against his hand. He snarled as you bit down on his lip but as the metallic taste of blood met his tongue, it was as though Billy was transcending. His pace on your clit quickened but it was still too slow for you and he knew it. He was torturing you, killing you, and he was enjoying every second of it. Struggling against the belt, your struggle was all for naught as it didn’t so much as move an inch.

“You’d love me, no matter what, right?” He asked, slipping one of his fingers inside of you as he kissed his way down to your chest. Lapping at your nipple, Billy was gentle at first before biting down hard enough to draw blood. Tit for Tat.

“Yes,” you moaned. Your entire body was on fire as his fingers brought you closer to the edge. “But I’d love you even more if you fucked me. You’re killing me, Loomis.”

Licking up the small trail of blood off of your tits, Billy hummed against your nipple and added another finger inside of your pussy. He’d fuck you soon but right now, he needed to feel your entire body light up the way it always had when he drove you into that fit of madness. You were a woman unhinged in the bedroom, he knew as much, and he knew exactly how to get that animal inside of you out.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he admired, reaching his hand up to coat your tit in your own slick. When it was sufficiently wet, he licked your juices off of your breast and growled. God, you tasted so fucking good. “You’re my girl, Y/N, you’re always going to be my girl, right?”

You looked up at him as those words fell from his lips. His brown hair hung down his forehead, his neck red from the strain of having to watch you writhe beneath him without doing a damned thing about it. But what struck you was the look of vulnerability in those brown eyes. That longing, far-away look as his eyes searched yours.

He wanted nothing more than to hear you say that you wanted him. Needed him. Just as much as he needed you.

“Always,” the answer tumbled out of your lips before you so much as thought twice. “I’m your girl, Billy.”

His mouth caught yours in a bruising kiss. Finally, his pace quickened inside of you as met your throbbing core with his dept fingers. With his thumb circling your clit, he dipped two fingers inside of you and grinned against your mouth as you let out a low, desperate moan.

It happened so fast after that. One moment, you were the one tied up on the bed and the next, he’d released you, stripped himself naked, and managed to flip you over so that you were the one on top of him, straddling his waist. Pulling away from you mouth, Billy’s eyes darkened as he saw that familiar glimmer in your eyes. That animalistic side of you was out in full force now.

“Get up here.” He demanded.

You smirked and leaned across him so that your lips hovered over his. “Why would I want to do that?”

He leaned up, the veins in his neck swelled against his neck as he caught your bottom lip between his teeth. “Get. Up. Here.”

Releasing your lip, Billy watched you smirk and crawl up the remainder of his body until your pussy was less than an inch away from his mouth. Grabbing onto the metal of the headboard you’d just been tied up to, you gasped as Billy’s tongue slid into your folds. Finding your clit instantly, you moaned and allowed your eyes to fall shut as you reached down to play with your hardened nipples.

Fuck, what Billy could do with his mouth should have been illegal.

He sucked and lapped at your clit as you rocked back and forth against his mouth. His fingers dug into your hips, so much so that you knew there would be bruises in the morning but, blinded by the pleasure between your thighs, you couldn’t care less.

The moans that were coming out of you were raw and guttural and, as you played with your own tits, envisioning his hands being the ones to squeeze and nip on the swollen buds of your nipples, you saw stars.

“Fuck,” you moaned out, “Billy, baby, fuck.”

He pulled your hips further down so that you were sitting on his face. Not just hovering but sitting on that perfect mouth of his as he held you in place. You knew it must have been hard for him to breathe but he was adamant and as his tongue continued its assault on your throbbing cunt, you came devastatingly hard and incredibly loud.

Stars danced behind your eyes as you continued to ride out your orgasm. When you couldn’t take another second of Billy’s skilled tongue, you climbed off of him only to feel his large hands take hold of your hips again.

Swinging you around so that you were on your back and he was the one hovering over you, Billy wasted no time in slipping his rock-hard erection into your soaking pussy.

He was thrusting hard and the sounds of your juices squelching with every thrust of his cock would have been off-putting if it hadn’t been for the raw, primal need coursing off of the pair of you in waves. He was kissing your lips and biting them and suckling your neck as he continued to rail into you with all of passion in the world. You weren’t sure you’d ever seen him this riled up and you had to admit it was inherently sexy seeing him so affected by you.

Not surprising in the least, it didn’t take him long to come. You’d riled him up to the point of no return in the car and, as you felt him come inside of you, you all but laughed when he dramatically crashed on the bed beside you.

Sweat glistened over every inch of body and the sheen of your juices was still on his lips as he kissed you. This kiss was slow, methodical. Sweet. And you felt yourself fall even harder for the man as he broke the kiss and gently brushed your hair away from your now damp forehead.

Wrapping one arm around your chest, Billy held you against him as he propped himself against the headboard. You were both naked and sweating and while a shower was something you both definitely needed, neither of you found yourselves all too willing to move out of the other’s embrace.

“Is it hard being back here?” You asked, listening to his heart beating in his chest.

“For a second, maybe,” he admitted, soothing your hair down. “Not now.”

“What’s changed?” You asked with a small smile. “The sex was that good, huh?”

A quiet chuckle shook his chest as he kissed the top of your head. “I think horror meets niche porn is my new favourite genre.”

Kissing his naked chest, you grinned into his body. “Same.”

1K notes · View notes

whoree321 · 3 years

Note

Hey, I believe your requests are open, so, could you please write smth were reader and Tech are friends with benefits?

Also, I’m in the same dilemma as you, cause everyone already forgot tbb and I’m still obsessed??? Like, were is everybody excitement about the show, it was gone so fast…

Anyway, thank ya <3

hello friend! this is a delicious request and i am more than happy to oblige! i’m not sure if you wanted like pure angst or like sexy successful fwb but above all else i am a dirty dirty slut for happy endings so i went light angst, heavy fluff, mild smut to get a little of everything lmaooooo. this also got a little out of control and i’m not sorry.

and literally i am suffering so much in this ever increasing drought of bad batch excitement. like i feel like the person at a party when everyone else is tired and wants to leave who’s still just way too hyped and is like “NO WAIT GUYS LETS HAVE MORE SHOTS AND PLAY TRUTH OR DARE COME ON ITLL BE FUN”. i am in absolute agony. but anyways!

a mutually beneficial arrangement (tech x gn!reader)

it was purely sex. just two friends helping each other relieve some stress occasionally. just two friends who happened to have sex with each other. until it wasn’t.

warnings: fwb, mild smut, reader is gender/genital neutral but they are penetrated by tech (amab)

word count: no idea but it’s pretty long

***

In hindsight, it really shouldn’t have shocked you that this was how things played out.

It’s not like you’d ever been friends with benefits with someone before. It’s not like you didn’t know how easily you could develop feelings for people. It’s not like you didn’t know you were maybe just a little too interested in Tech non-platonically before any of this even started.

No, you knew all of those things going into it. You made the conscious decision to be the biggest dumbass in the galaxy.

When Tech had first suggested a friends with benefits situation, it seemed like a much better idea than it actually was. You had been assigned to Clone Force 99 for a few weeks at that point and had already developed fast friendships with all of them (Crosshair even sometimes acknowledged your presence with neutrality and that definitely felt like at least an acquaintanceship). You were closest with Tech, and one tipsy night at 79’s found the two of you making out in a hallway near the bathroom. You could still remember the way his mouth tasted like whiskey as he pressed you up against the wall

He paused his assault on your lips to look at you, breath fanning lightly across your face. You whined at the loss of contact, not noticing in your haze the intensity in his eyes as he studied you, as though if he took in enough of you he would have the answer to an imposssible question. He migrated lower, planting kisses and sucking lightly on your neck until he made his way to your ear.

“Have you ever heard of people being platonic sexual partners?”, he asked low in your ear. You shuddered at the feeling of his breath and the deeper tone to his voice before you answered.

“You mean like friends with benefits?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I mean,” Tech clarified as he moved to once again nibble on the sweet spots of your neck. Had you had a little more sense, you would have warned him not to leave any noticeable marks, lest you suffer the teasing of the rest of the boys.

“I’ve heard of it, I’ve never done it before though. Why?”

“Well, given our current circumstance,” his response was punctuated by his ministrations on your pressure points, “it may be mutually beneficial for us to enter into that type of arrangement.”

You stopped him for a moment, and lifted his face so that you could make eye contact. Tech stood up a little straighter, hands running up and down your sides lightly as he gazed down at you.

“You think that we should be friends with benefits?”

Tech nodded, one hand moving to brush a strand of hair out of your face.

“I believe it would be an advantageous relationship. We could have relations while still maintaining our successful platonicity, thus eliminating the need to alter the dynamic of the squad with the complications of some trivial romance. It would also be physically beneficial. Sexual intercourse has been shown to successfully alleviate stress, as well as…”

He kept going, explaining the health benefits of sex, but it was hard to pay attention to his rambling while you tried to clear your head of the alcohol and the intoxication of his touch and figure out where you stood on his proposition. In that moment, everything he said made total sense. Granted, that part about “trivial romance” stung a little, but you could still fuck him without ruining the squad or your friendship with him, and Maker did you want to fuck him…

Uncharacteristically cutting off his rant, you responded. “I accept your offer. I would love to be friends with benefits with you.”

Tech grinned, a lust forming in his eyes at the new promise of the benefits the night was leading to.

“Splendid”

From that (mind-blowing) night, sex became a very regular thing. A mission went poorly? Frustrated sex. A mission went well? Celebratory sex. The Batch got leave time? Vacation sex. The Batch hadn’t gotten leave time in too long? Cabin fever sex. It really had started out pretty platonically, but after the first few times you could feel yourself falling head over heels for him. You knew you should stop it, Tech would never hold it against you or be upset if you changed your mind. You told yourself again and again that you would just break it off with him, but then his hands and his lips and his body would be on you, and the hungry way he looked at you would knock the air, and any ideas of making him stop, out of you.

In your defense, it wasn’t like you were the one who had suggested it. Tech had to know the likelihood that your “platonic sexual relationship” would only stay platonic for so long. Actually, you were surprised he hadn’t done a little more analysis of the situation. If he had taken into account all of the factors (the rate of failure in friends with benefits situations, each of your levels of emotionality and past relationships, the effects of living and working in close quarters, etc), you can’t imagine he would have thought it was a smart idea. If Tech had crunched the numbers like he normally would, it wouldn’t have produced favorable results. So for him to want to do it anyway, or to not even analyze it beforehand, must mean he had some sort of feelings for you, right?

This was one of the various problem in your current situation. Tech would always do things that were just on the line between “friends” and “more than friends”. He would go out of his way to do little things for you, he would share info and jokes and side comments with you that he never tried to share with brothers, he would blush when you complimented any of his work, he would stand just a little too close to you or let his touch linger just a little too long. He would suggest a sexual relationship that was highly statistically improbable to be successful.

And while Tech offered nothing but mixed signals, you took it a step further and let those mixed signals fester in your brain until you had warped them into one very clear signal: he liked you as more than a friend. You were so sure of it too. Why would he do all of those things if he didn’t like you like that? It’s not even like he treated you like some one night stand when he fucked you. He cared about making you feel good (usually it seemed like he cared more about you getting off than him), he would clean you up after and you always stayed the night together, cuddled and whispering late into the night about nothing and everything.

There was nothing friendly about your intimate nights together, come to think of it. Friends that just fucked would never treat each other so tenderly or lovingly. It’s not that completely unbelievable to think you would accidentally blurt out that you love him. Tech should have expected that.

But it was out there, unfortunately. You had committed the cardinal sin of being friends with benefits and you couldn’t take it back.

Tech’s brutal pace never faltered as he pumped in and out of you, your moans growing louder and louder as you began to approach your peak. He gazed down at you, locking eyes, and the emotion you could feel behind them was overwhelming. You could tell that he was close, with all the experience you had with him you knew his body better than your own, and he brought his hand up to softly caress your cheek.

“You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe I get to see you like this,” he huffed out, brow furrowing as the rhythmic slamming of his hips against you brought him closer and closer to the edge.

At his words, you reached your climax, and as you came undone words of ecstasy slipped from your lips between wails of pleasure.

“Kriff Tech… ah…. Tech..fuck…I love you”

You didn’t even realize it at first, too caught up in the moment, but Tech did. His eyes grew impossibly wide, and he was finishing inside you before either of you could fully process what you had just said.

As you both came down from your high, the gravity of your admission settled between you. Tech pulled out and flopped down next to you wordlessly, and for a few minutes you both just stared at the ceiling in torturous silence. And then he got up and walked to the refresher, not even looking at you once, and you felt like that was all the confirmation you needed that you woefully misinterpreted your entire relationship with him.

You lept out of his bunk, threw your clothes on, and left as silently as possible, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks. At least you could spare yourself the embarrassment of your words in that moment, and both of you could just forget it and move on.

Of course, you knew that pretending it didn’t happen would be impossible. You told him you loved him, and he said nothing. For several minutes. And then hid in the fresher. That was a clear rejection, and while it devastated you, you were still hoping that the two of you could just move on and be friends like you were before the benefits were added.

Apparently to Tech, you had offended him beyond repair. He never spoke to you (unless it was specifically mission oriented), he rarely looked at you or acknowledged your presence, and he positioned himself as far from you as possible at every opportunity. It had been two weeks since your slip up, and he hadn’t even made eye contact with you once.

It was agony. You missed him. You didn’t even really know what it was like to be on this squad without keeping him company while he made repairs or asking him questions about the next place you were going just to hear him talk. You missed making snide jokes with him. You missed admiring the way his goggles magnified his gorgeous caramel eyes.

The other boys noticed the shift very quickly. They had suspected the two of you had some sort of arrangement, and they knew how close you were, so to see it change so abruptly was concerning. Hunter had tried talking to you about it a few times, but you just reassured him that everything was fine and it was nothing he needed to worry about. Wrecker and Crosshair tried to pick up the slack, and started filling in the holes in your routine that Tech used to occupy. Crosshair would sit next to you in the mornings and during briefings, sometimes trying to make little comments in your ear like Tech would. On missions, Wrecker would always aim to pair up with you, and afterwards would try to do something fun like find a sweet treat or rent a good movie.

You appreciated so much what they did for you. But no matter how hard they tried, nothing could take your mind off the wall of ice Tech had built between you. You loved the other boys, but trying to share happy moments with them when all you could think about was how much better it would be with him was becoming unbearable. You didn’t want to leave them, but you couldn’t stay with Tech being so close to you and yet lightyears away.

As you filled out your transfer paperwork, you chuckled wryly to yourself. Even without the “trivial romance”, the squad was still disrupted. In a bittersweet way, it felt good for Tech to be wrong.

***

Tech had really done his best to analyze the evidence and make an informed decision based on his findings. He had been crunching his numbers with you since the day you joined the Batch, after all. Back then, it was the probability of your attraction to each of them. Tech was fascinated with you, and right off the bat he wanted to know his odds- just out of curiosity of course (for the record, they were pretty highly in his favor).

He knew there were pros and cons to the possibility of a relationship with you. First of all, it was technically against regulation for any clone to be involved in a romantic relationship. Second of all, it was likely that such a relationship would have the potential to cause countless rifts and points of weakness among his squad (regardless of the relationship’s success). Then there was also the very possible chance that the relationship wouldn’t work out anyway, leaving both of you hurt and irreparably damaging your friendship. As much as Tech may have wanted you, the costs unfortunately outweighed the benefits.

But then he kissed you at 79’s. And you kissed him back. And there he was, kissing you at 79’s, memorizing the sweetness of your lips on his. And he knew he should stop. He had studied the data and it’s conclusions were not very good, and if he had any sense at all he would stop. But he pulled away and looked at you, took in the flush on your cheeks and the dazed look accompanying your dilated pupils and the swell of your bruised lips. And he couldn’t bring himself to part ways with you. So he offered the closest thing to a relationship he could think of: friends with benefits.

A friends with benefits arrangement would be a more than adequate solution, Tech had decided. He could be physical with you in the proper moments, and then outside of those moments everything would be just as it was before. The squad’s dynamic and mission proficiency would remain consistent, and technically no regulations were being broken since they only specified romantic relationships. Of course, it wasn’t truly what he wanted, but in this arrangement he would get to enjoy you so much more than he currently was.

Unfortunately, he had made a critical oversight. In the dim haze of the club hallway, Tech had only considered how casual sex would compare to a full blown relationship. He didn’t think to analyze it singularly. And he certainly didn’t calculate the logistics of a friends with benefits agreement when one of the friends in question already had romantic feelings for the other friend.

But Tech knew himself. He knew he could have feelings for you and not let them get in the way. He could accept what he was able to have and make peace with what he couldn’t. Casual sex seemed like a good idea when his emotions were the only ones he took into account.

He wasn’t expecting you to fall in love with him.

When you had said it, Tech thought his heart was going to stop right then and there. In the heat of the moment, he couldn’t have imagined more precious words falling from your lips, and instantly it had him spiraling over the edge into ecstasy. But then the moment ended, and you didn’t say anything. He wanted to end the silence, to find out if you really meant it, but his brain was moving too fast to figure out what to say because he really hadn’t considered this would happen. It was naive of him, he supposed, but he really had thought the two of you could have done it without the emotional complications. Part of him, of course, was thrilled, but the other part of him, the logical part, was thrown into absolute chaos at the implications of your statement and what it would mean and all the statistics and probabilities he had calculated and

And you still hadn’t said anything. Tech could see you out of the corner of his eye, face red and chest heaving with emotion. You looked embarassed, regretful, and the realization that maybe you didn’t mean it hit him like a brick to the face. Maybe it was just something that slipped out, something your orgasm-addled mind had conjured up against your will and now you didn’t know how to take it back, didn’t know the right way to tell him you don’t actually love him.

It was too much for him to process at once, and he ran to the refresher in the hopes that he could clear his head and actually think coherently about the situation for a moment. Tech couldn’t have been in there long, maybe a few minutes, just long enough to splash some water on his face, look himself in the eye, and come to the conclusion that he needed to just have a conversation with you instead of playing with hypothetical numbers in his head. But then he came back out and you were gone, and that seemed like all the answer he needed. You didn’t mean it.

That was good, right? You didn’t mean it, and the two of you could keep going the way you had been.

But the ache in Tech’s heart said otherwise. You didn’t love him. He loved you, he knew he did, and he could be ok with pretending he didn’t when he didn’t know how you felt. But he knew now. And it hurt.

It hurt everytime he talked to you, so he stopped talking to you. It hurt everytime he was near you, so he stopped being near you. It hurt everytime he looked at you, so he stopped looking. The squad’s performance hadn’t been altered, so Tech concluded that the awkwardness could be tolerated until your presence didn’t feel so much like a blaster shot to his chest.

But just like pretty much every other choice Tech had made in regards to you, that plan only worked until it backfired horrifically.

***

The Batch were back on Kamino in between missions. Tech had been vaguely aware of Hunter being called in to a meeting of some sort, but he offered his full attention as Hunter stormed back into their room and huffed his way to Tech’s workbench.

“I don’t know what you did, but you need to fix things with Y/N. Now”

At the mention of your name, Tech pretended to return to his work, fiddling with a tool and avoiding eye contact.

“I do not know what you are referring-“

“Like hell you don’t Tech! The two of you haven’t even looked at each other in weeks and now they’ve put in a request to be transferred to another unit, so don’t tell me there’s nothing going on between you.”

Tech shot up, tools abandoned and stool knocked over with the force of his standing.

“They requested a transfer?”

“Yeah, they did. Now, I don’t know what happened, but I know your little silent treatment has been hurting them a lot. I don’t want to see them go, and you don’t either. So go talk to them and fix it, or I’ll have you transferred instead,” Hunter ordered, finger pointed at Tech’s chest. The threat was empty, of course, but it had fallen on deaf ears regardless.

Tech all but sprinted out into the hall, desperate to change your mind before you left them for good. As much as it pained him to be near you, the thought of being without you was somehow so much worse. He reached your quarters and unceremoniously burst in, barely giving the doors enough time to slide open before he was moving past them.

You jumped at his sudden entrance, hand coming up to clutch your chest.

“Maker, Tech you scared me!”

“Please don’t leave”

You stared at him, taking in his appearance for the first time. His chest was heaving, like he’d just run a marathon, and his eyes were frantic and impossibly wide behind his goggles. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him so disheveled, even when you’d slept with him.

You wanted to look away, but you were conscious of the fact that this was the first time you had made eye contact in Maker knows how long and you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“Tech, I-I can’t stay with the way things are. I’m sorry about what I said, I know it was just supposed to be a friend thing and I shouldn’t have fallen in love with you. I really tried not to, but I did and I ruined everything and you can’t even look at me anymore so how can I-“

Tech took step closer, cutting off your rambling as his brow furrowed.

“You fell in love with me?”

He spoke so quietly, it was barely above a whisper. You nodded, confused at his surprised considering the whole issue was that you told him you loved him and he didn’t feel the same. That was the issue, right?

You could practically see the smoke coming out of his ears as he tried to process what was happening.

“I thought… I thought you didn’t mean it”

Now it was your turn to be confused.

“Why would you think that?”

“Y-you didn’t say anything. You confessed your affections for me while in a compromised state and didn’t say anything else afterwards. Your body language indicated regret and-and you left. I concluded that you said it by accident, and did not actually mean it,” he explained as calmly as he could in his rattled state.

“I left because I told you I loved you and you locked yourself in the fresher! And then you wouldn’t talk to me so I figured you were mad at me because I have feelings for you and you don’t feel the same way!”

Tech’s face broke out in a huge grin, and just as you were about to ask him why he was so happy all of a sudden, he rushed forward and passionately slotted his lips against yours. You gasped into him before immediately reciprocating the kiss, and you tangled your hands in his hair as his fingers desperately clutched your hips. Of all the kisses you had shared with him, none had felt the way this one did. There was an emotion pouring into it, one that had always been on the verge of spilling over but never had before. Eventually you broke apart, and you cursed your lungs for needing air.

He leaned his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath, and broke the silence after a few moments.

“I love you, too. I have for a significant amount of time. When you left that night, I incorrectly assumed you did not share my affections. I avoided you after because I… I was hurt. I apologize for misinterpreting your actions, and for allowing you to think that I was upset with you. I assure you, that could not be further from reality.”

You laughed giddily, bumping his nose with yours as you relished in his confession.

“If you loved me, why did you just want to be friends with benefits?”

Tech blushed and look down, a sheepish look overtaking his features.

“Well, I performed a cost-benefit analysis on engaging in a romantic relationship, and the potential complications were too great. A platonic sexual partnership offered a less risky alternative. Although, I must admit that I failed to properly calculate the possible outcomes of such an agreement between two individuals in our specific situation,” he elaborated.

“We might be the two dumbest people in the galaxy,” you joked with a giggle.

“Technically, it is statistically impossible for that to be true, given-“

You cut him off with another deep kiss, your hands coming to rest on his arms as they kept you in his iron-clad grip. He had never loosened his hold, as though he thought if he let you go, you would disappear.

Abruptly, the kiss ended as Tech pulled back slightly to look at you.

“Does this mean you are no longer transferring out of our squad?”

You grinned.

“That depends. Does this mean we can have a real relationship, not just sex?”

Tech brought one hand to rest on his jaw as he looked upwards and pretended to be deep in thought.

“Well, according to my calculations, we have already experienced nearly all of the possible complications of pursuing a romantic relationship, so I have no objection to enjoying some of the benefits,” he concluded with a playful smile.

You leaned up to kiss him again, pausing just before your lips made contact with his to make a sly comment.

“And we know how good we are at some of those benefits already”

#the bad batch #bad batch #tbb #tbb tech #tech tbb #the bad batch tech #tech the bad batch #tbb tech x reader #tech x reader #the bad batch tech x reader #tech x y/n #tech x you #the bad batch x reader

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rainydaydream-gal18 · 3 years

Text

(The Bad Batch) The Awkward Chronicles

(Author’s Note: Here is some wild Bad Batch content for you. I’m still not entirely sure why I did this, but I was sitting here laughing and blushing at this madness. I’m one of those people who gets embarrassed so easily, so this fic was a ride for me.

-We all have ideas on what it’d be like to live and fight with the Bad Batch. These are some short examples of the less glamorous things that can happen when you dwell with five males on a tiny ship-

Warnings: Some awkward situations, embarrassment, some crude humor, potty humor)

Link to The Sequel

You were walking down the hall, minding your own business, when it happened. The lights went out. As a matter of fact, it seemed that power in the entire ship was down. You were left stranded in the pitch black, feeling around for the wall for only a few seconds before a low hum sounded and the emergency lights came on.

The hall was cast in an eerie red light.

“Tech!” Hunter’s growl made you jump. That’s when you remembered; the last time you’d seen the Sergeant was when he excused himself to the refresher to take a shower. A loud bang sounded on the door just a few feet away from you. “Tech, what’s going on?”

Before you could respond, the door slid open, and a very disgruntled Hunter emerged. It was quite a sight. His long hair was damp and full of suds, some of which was falling into his eyes, and he wore a towel around his waist. He was trying to blink the soap from his eyes, and he must not have seen you there because he marched straight into you.

You yelped, hands shooting up instinctively to try and cushion the blow. They landed on his broad chest, and you shrunk away awkwardly. The dampness of his skin and the proximity was enough to make your face flare up. Embarrassment quickly took its toll. You were glad that the emergency lights were dim.

“__________?” Hunter asked in disbelief, swiping the back of his hand across his eyes. His grumpy demeanor was replaced with surprise.

“Um, yeah, it’s me,” you replied. “Sorry.”

“I’m the one who ran into you,” he said in amusement. He was right, but something about the situation just made you feel like you should apologize. Maybe it was the way you were trying so very hard to meet his eyes and not let your attention wander.

Funny enough, Hunter didn’t seem at all bothered by the situation. He continued to stand there unabashedly, eyes flickering past you. “Where’s Tech? Do you know what’s going on?”

“He was making repairs in the cockpit,” you said.

“Would’ve been nice if he at least waited until no one was using the shower,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, very true. Here, I’ll just…” You glanced at the floor, biting your lip. “I’ll, um, tell him to hurry up with the power.”

“Thanks,” Hunter nodded. He gathered up his damp hair which had started to drip more suds down his shoulder, and turned to head back into the refresher. You spun around and hurried toward the cockpit, ready to face-palm.

That image won’t stay burned into your mind or anything. Nope.

- - - -

You glared at the empty roll. It sat there tauntingly as your brain desperately thought of options to solve your current predicament.

If you really wanted to, you could pull your bottoms up just enough to shimmy out of the refresher and grab a new roll of toilet paper in the supply closet. It was a small ship, though, so there were a few things that could make the plan go awry. Someone could easily walk by and witness the unfortunate situation. Or worse, someone could be waiting for you to exit the refresher and slip in after you walk out the door.

Your best bet would be to see if someone could bring you a roll. Wrecker was the most ideal choice. He was likely the one who left you with an empty roll in the first place, and he was the most relaxed of the group about things like that. Not to mention you’d rescued him from the same situation a few times already. You could count on him cracking a joke and then just moving on.

Speaking of which, you heard his heavy footsteps going down the hall right then. Relief washed over you as you grinned and gave the refresher door a knock. “Wrecker! Can I ask a favor?”

“Sorry, ________! I’m moving something for Hunter,” he grunted. “Crosshair’s here though! He can help you out.”

Your smile faded.

Crosshair was not a bad guy, but to say that you weren’t exactly eager to ask him to get you toilet paper was an understatement. How could you bring yourself to ask the man and have him know your awkward situation?

“What do you need?” Crosshair’s smooth voice was muffled through the refresher door. You took a deep breath as you decided to take the plunge.

“I, uh, I need someone to grab toilet paper from the closet.”

It was dead silent on the other end for a minute, and you were inwardly cringing. Your heart was thumping wildly in your chest, and your face practically burned with shame.

“Isn’t there any under the sink?”

“Already checked,” you said. “Someone forgot to restock it.”

“That would be Wrecker.” He sighed in annoyance. “Give me a minute.” It felt like forever before you heard him knock on the door again. “I’m...I’m just going to leave it here.”

“Thanks,” you called through the door.

His footsteps faded away, and you cracked the door open just enough to snatch up the roll.

In hindsight, Crosshair had been pretty cool about the whole thing. You weren’t sure what to expect, but your wildest imagination had envisioned his tone being laced with disgust, or at the very least irritation toward you. Or maybe a snide comment. Even so, it didn’t do much to derail the embarrassment that had set in when you joined the others in the cockpit. You had a hard time looking Crosshair’s way for a while.

- - - -

Where could they be? You rested your hands on your hips, frustrated. You had searched every inch of your bunk for your boots to no avail. Hunter and Wrecker were waiting for you outside the ship to join them for a supply run. The only thing you could think of was that perhaps during the last crash-landing, they slid up to the front.

With a sigh, you typed up a quick message to Tech on your holopad. He was already up there working on one of the panels: maybe he could check.

Three dots appeared on the screen, which meant he was typing up a response. Then, they disappeared. They reappeared once more. Confused, you were about to head up to the cockpit anyway before a ping sounded on your device, alerting you of his response.

I take it you were asking about your boots. If that’s the case, then yes, they’re here up front.

Your brows furrowed. “What…? I did ask about boots. What does he think I wrote?” You scrolled up to see your original message, covering your mouth in shock.

It read: Tech, have you seen my booty?

You quickly typed up a response. Oh my gosh. Yes, I meant to say boots.

That explained his hesitant reply before. Your face heated up at the thought of the brainiac reading your typo and short-circuiting for a moment, being unsure of how to go about it. You choked back a laugh on your way up front to fetch your boots.

Tech was kneeling down beside the panel when you arrived.

“Heyy,” you greeted. He paused his work to lift his helmet. There was a hint of amusement in his gaze, and you could see the way he was fighting a smile.

“Hello, ________.”

“About earlier,” you grimaced.

He finally cracked a smile, chuckling. “No worries. These things tend to happen. I set your boots over there.” He nodded in the direction of the co-pilot seat. Face flushed, you grabbed your boots off the chair and pulled them on before heading out to join Hunter and Wrecker.

- - - -

“Alright,” Hunter shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Who was that?”

Everyone in the cockpit exchanged looks, some accusatory. Under normal circumstances, you’d think the whole thing was childish. But for someone with Hunter’s abilities, you sort of understood why every time someone passed gas, it became a game of “who did it?”

It was almost always Wrecker. Sometimes he’d admit it proudly, and other times he’d try and deny it. This time, it seemed, he was out for blood.

“It was __________,” he said. “I heard it.”

All eyes turned to you, including Hunter’s vexed expression. You glared at the largest Bad Batcher with your heart thumping in embarrassment. “Was not!”

The corner of his mouth twitched. A hint of a smile, though he quickly hid it. “Come on, _________. It’s bad enough that you disturbed Hunter’s ‘advanced senses.’” He quoted the phrase that he’d heard Tech throw around before. “But don’t try and cover it up.”

“It wasn’t me.” You replied in disbelief. Turning to Hunter, your eyes took on a more pleading look. “You’ve got to believe me.”

“You’re being awfully defensive,” Echo noted.

“Yeah, awfully defensive,” Wrecker repeated, nodding furiously. “Own up, ________. That one was really bad.”

You sighed. “This is silly. It wasn’t me, and you know it.”

“Maybe it was,” Crosshair shrugged. “And maybe it wasn’t.”

“Either way,” Hunter interrupted, shooting each of you a look. “I’ll ask all of you one more time. Try and hold off until we land, so I can leave.”

The cockpit fell into silence once more, and you turned around to take a seat in one of the passenger chairs, brooding over the situation. Wrecker shot you a cheeky grin, and you rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the smile that crept its way onto your features at his childishness.

- - - -

“__________, could you fetch me another wrench?” Tech asked, grunting as he pulled out a few wires from the opening in the wall. “I’m going to need it in a minute.”

Your eyes caught something shiny on the tool kit he had laid out on the floor of the cockpit. Kneeling down to pick it up, you shrugged. “You mean like this?” Tech glanced your way and shook his head.

“A smaller one.”

“Oh alright,” you sighed. “Be right back.” You moseyed your way out of the cockpit, taking your time because it was a slow day and there was no rush. It was unusual for the ship to be so quiet. That was most likely because Wrecker wasn’t on board. He went with Hunter and Crosshair to see the planet a little.

On your way back to the rest of Tech’s tools, you saw Echo making his way up front.

“How go the repairs?” he asked.

“Pretty good,” you said with a nod. Both of you had paused to converse for a moment in the hall. “I’m grabbing some more tools for Tech. Apparently the toolkit he brought up front doesn’t have the wrench he needs.”

Echo chuckled. “Well, good luck to you. I’ve got my own repairs to make, or else I’d help.”

“Well, thanks anyway.” You smiled.

“__________!” Tech called. “If I am to proceed, I will need that wrench.”

“One second!” you called back. Shrugging, you mumbled, “duty calls.” Echo and you both stepped aside so the other could pass by first. A few chuckles floated into the air, and before you knew it both of you were taking a step forward at the same time.

“Wow, okay, I’m sorry,” you said, feeling a little shy at the awkward close proximity. Both of you sidestepped, bringing your chests together again. Echo fidgeted a little with the contact. Heat flooded your cheeks at how you were so close you nearly kissed. Your friend rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Ah, sorry,” he mumbled. “Why don’t you just go ahead?” This time, he managed to take a step back and over against the wall, lighthearted laughter leaving his lips as you walked past.

“Sorry,” you told him again over your shoulder. As you walked away, you felt that familiar twinge of embarrassment. Poor Echo looked somewhere between amused and a little embarrassed himself. You were a little relieved to hear another laugh from him down the hall.

#the bad batch x reader #bad batch x reader #the bad batch imagine #the bad batch fanfiction #tech x reader #crosshair x reader #echo x reader #hunter x reader #wrecker x reader #the bad batch reader insert

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landinoandco · 3 years

Text

|Shutter speed|

Chapter two : A New Beginning

{Lando Norris x Reader}

Summary: A photographer. A pair of F1 drivers. Triangles. A sticky situation of morals and fighting fate. What could go wrong?

Warnings: none :) apart from a mention of grief and passing of a loved one

Rating: teen and up

Word count: 2.9 k

A/n: welcome to the second chapter of 'Shutter speed.'

I'm going to start a taglist so comment on this post or message me if you would like to be added :)

Previous chapters: Chapter one

Chapter two: A new beginning

By the time Georgie had raced home, it had stopped raining and the sun was beginning to fight its way through the mass of clouds that had filled the sky. The journey home had given Georgie plenty of time to think - to mull everything over about the crazy afternoon she had just endured. They had finally booked their first event since lockdown, the insanely attractive stranger she had met in the coffee shop but somehow it all ended back to a person she thought she had finished thinking about - not that you ever could. Her Theo. Her lovely Theo.

Theodore was her childhood sweetheart. Theo was everything to her, llike Georgie was everything to him. They had their whole future planned out: travelling around the world and experiencing different cultures, photographing their entire experience and showcasing the beginning of their journey through life on an Instagram they had set up. Before settling down and starting a family of their own. Together. It was going to finish like all the fairy tales did...

And everybody lived happily ever after.

In hindsight, they had jinxed themselves before they had even started, not long after they had finished their A - levels and about to start their next chapter at Uni - Theo had fallen ill. Georgie refuses to acknowledge the illness for she believes it shouldn’t be the way he is remembered, instead reminiscing on the short but meaningful life he lived. Theo died not long after he was diagnosed, leaving Georgie behind with a new and tainted meaning to happily ever after because if it wasn’t with him then what did it truly mean?

As they say hindsight is a wonderful thing.

Even now, 5 years on, 23 years of age, she is still plagued with the memories and the thoughts of everything they could have had but for some reason the universe was against it all. She hated to think of herself as unlucky because she was blessed to have met Theo in the first place.

Shaking the memories from her head, she unlocked the apartment door and trudged through - hanging her coat and bag on the hooks then making her way over to the breakfast bar. On top was a fluorescent post-it note that read: “Popped into the city to pick up some new lenses for the cameras. Fill you in when I get back. Fancy getting a takeaway tonight to celebrate? Love you lots ~ Maisie.”

A takeaway was exactly what was needed. She thought. And a nice warm shower.

The thing Georgie loves about showers is that they give her the ability to find an answer and solution to pretty much everything and anything. She spent a lot of time in the shower after Theo passed, it was the only thing she could justify enjoying. Striping her clothes off and chucking them into a pile on the floor, she reached into the shower to turn it on - the water immediately rushing out and crashing loudly onto the floor. As soon as she was happy with the temperature, she stepped in - letting the warm water droplets wash all of her worries away. It was the only thing that she felt helped her relax; come to terms with everything she was feeling.

Her first and main worry was what they were going to do after Goodwood. If they didn’t find consistent work soon they were going to run out of money - they were lucky to have made some good investments and savings leading up to this point to have coped through lockdown.

Georgie grabbed the shampoo and rubbed it thoroughly through her long waves. She had been to Goodwood a few years back - Theo had taken her. It was the best date she had ever been on - she remembered it as clear as day. They had found an empty bench to sit on next to the hill the cars climbed in the ever popular annual hill climb - it was there and then they had decided they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together and travel the world.

Stepping back under the water, she let the water take the shampoo away, watching as the bubbles slipped through the drain. Theo had been a massive formula one fan - dragging Georgie into the sport as well. Jenson Button had been his favourite driver and McLaren his favourite team so naturally that was hers as well. As soon as he passed Georgie had nothing to do with the sport - she refused to watch it and stopped keeping up with the teams.

She reached for the conditioner bottle, pressing her lips together in a tight line. All of this thought about Theo and the racing world she turned her back on - a slight regret forming in the pit of her stomach, was she ready to go back to it? She remembered the atmosphere of Goodwood when she had been, people from all over the world gathered to celebrate the one thing they had in common: their love for cars. She was slightly envious of the people who got to travel the world, following in the car's tyre tracks and capturing the moments you only get to experience once in a lifetime.

Georgie paused and furrowed her eyebrows, she was struck with an idea. Whether it was absolutely brilliant or outright stupid and unrealistic, she was yet to find out. Hoping out of the shower and grabbing her towel, she made her way to her room. It was worth a look, she supposed, there was no harm in that. Once she was dressed, she sat at her desk and turned on her laptop; begging fate to be on her side today.

“Honey, I’m home.” Called a voice from the kitchen.

“Hey sweetie.” Georgie shouted back, “I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

She pulled up the McLaren careers page, her mouse hovering over the view jobs link. Georgie was ready to travel the world. She was ready to experience life again - after all it was Theo’s dying wish that she completed everything they were setting out to do. Perhaps she was selfish for not coming to this conclusion sooner.

She clicked.

Taking one last deep breath, Georgie placed her hands to her forehead and moved her face closer to the screen as she read through the roles. Tyre performance engineer. No. Finance analyst - production. Definitely not. Hope was diminishing rapidly even though it was as she had expected. The chances of finding anything suitable were low. She was coming to the bottom of the list when a role jumped out at her. But not impossible apparently.

Lead photographer - team.

And the deadline was Tuesday at 11.59 pm. They had the best part of 6 hours to complete this application. It was going to be tight but possible.

She jumped up and rubbed her hands over her face in disbelief. Running her hands through her hair, she sat back down - hardly being able to keep still. It was only an application advert - many people were going to be applying. She thought as she exhaled loudly. More experienced people. Skimming through the description and requirements, she almost felt like she was dreaming. It was perfect. The role was to travel with the whole team and capture every moment to later be used on social media and advertising.

“Everything alright in here?” Maisie poked her head around the door. She was faced with an almost tearful Georige. Her words almost trailed off.

“Do you want to travel the world?” Georgie asked her, her voice wavering slightly. Maisie seemed taken aback as she moved into the room and sat on Georgie’s bed. “I’m sorry - what? Have you forgotten what’s been going on recently?”

“With a formula one team, Mclaren to be precise.” Georgie corrected and moved aside so Maisie could see the screen. Silence fell between the pair as Maisie read on, Georgie’s leg had started bouncing in anticipation. Minutes later she was met with a frown. “That’s not quite how I had imagined you would react.” Georgia mumbled, sighing. She mirrored her friend's expression, chewing on her bottom lip.

“Before we start fantasizing, I just want to make sure you’re ok with this.” Maisie said softly, taking one of Georgia’s hand in hers. Georgia nodded slowly, rubbing her thumb over her friend’s hand. “This would be his dream. I know he’s watching us - he really is looking out for us, Maise. I want to do it for him.”

Maisie’s smile grew, “As long as you’re sure. Come, let’s discuss it over take away and I will explain how this weekend is going to work.” Georgie stood up, grabbing her laptop and a notebook, “One thing is for sure. We are going to need one hell of a portfolio.”

It was now Sunday - the final day at Goodwood.

To say the rest of their week leading up to this point went smoothly would be a lie. In the end it all got a bit complicated. They submitted their application at 10:58 pm that Tuesday evening - due to it only being a singular role they applied as their business in hope that the combined experience would set them apart from other candidates. Wednesday they spent the day prepping for Goodwood - trying out the new lenses and practising photographing cars they found around London. They were going to watch the Goodwood livestream on Youtube Thursday and Friday to see what they were going to be faced with that Saturday. Until Maisie received a call. It was Mclaren and they had gotten through to the interviews - all taking place that Thursday afternoon on teams. As it turns out, they wanted to have hired someone for the role by Friday in order to be ready for the British Grand Prix the following weekend.

“I mean it makes sense,” Maisie said, blowing her coffee to cool it down before taking a long sip. “It is their home grand prix after all.”

Georgie chuckled, “It’s just, I feel like if we were to explain to anyone they would think we were making this up. It’s all happening so quickly.”

That Friday, ahead of their debut at Goodwood on the Saturday, they got the call. According to the lady Maisie spoke to, it was very close between them and another candidate but the fact they were working at Goodwood tipped the scales in their favour.

“And.” Maisie started. “We are going to meet with a man called Zac Brown on Sunday, he is the CEO of McLaren Racing-” Georgie was very lucky to have Maisie as she was the businessman - or women in this case - out of the pair. Her people skills were unmatched, how she did it Georgie would never understand.

Now on Sunday, Georgie was quite sad to see it coming to an end. The atmosphere was one that she had never quite experienced before - it was one that filled her with pride and adoration; something she hadn’t felt in a long time, not to this extent anyway. The whole weekend, a beaming smile had been plastered onto her face - so much so that her facial muscles were beginning to ache. The whole community of people were ecstatic to be there, watching on in excitement as a sport that had missed the company of their crowds opened its doors once again. It wasn’t long before she had agreed to meet with Maisie ahead of their meeting with Zac Brown that she found herself walking up the infamous hill. The loud buzz of conversation seemed to fade, instead the only sound she could hear was the rumble of engines as they came cruising by. She stopped at a clearing where a bench stood proudly, smiling softly to herself as she slung her camera strap over her shoulder, stuffing her hands into her trouser pockets. It hadn’t aged a day.

Lando Norris had decided to take a break from the main McLaren marquee - he had just finished his final drive of the day and was looking for some time to reflect on the weekend he had just had after having the honour of driving the three cars that Aryton Senna won McLaren their championship titles. It had been a tough season leading up to this point - after Carlos left to join Ferrari he felt this year all eyes would be on him. Many expected Lando to fall into the shadow of his new teammate Daniel Ricciardo, everybody expected him to fade back into the background. Perhaps that was why he trained so hard during the winter break - he had pushed himself right up to the limit. Lando wanted to prove to himself more than anyone else that he was a good driver and he did have potential to fight those at the top, after the taste of a podium in Austria - he was hungry for more. Even as a young boy during his karting career, Lando put pressure on himself - to strive to be the best on the grid - sometimes it meant he forgot to enjoy himself because he was so worried about what other people thought about him.

He had reached a clearing past the trees. All weekend he had kept half an eye out for the girl at the coffee shop. Part of him was disappointed not to have seen her, he really wanted that second chance. He came to a stop and checked his watch - it wasn’t long until Zac wanted him back; he mentioned briefly about a pair of photographers joining the team. They would be replacing his friend Jason after he decided that travelling just wasn’t practical anymore, who could blame him, his first child was on the way and he wanted to be there with his wife every step of the way.

Lando brushed a hand through his curls, casting his gaze around before he would make his way back. When a bench caught his eye or more specifically the girl sitting on the bench. She sat with a content smile dancing on her lips, a reminiscent glaze coated her eyes. He took a step towards her, there was something familiar about her. It was like his feet were frozen in place - his brain was telling him to go back but his gut told him to stay put. He stood for a minute or two before it hit him - square in the face and quite frankly he couldn’t believe his luck. It was the girl from the coffee shop. Right in front of him. It was now or never. Lando took a calming breath before going and sitting next to her.

Georgie was rudely pulled from her thoughts when a person sat down on the bench next to her. She moved her head slightly to see who the intruder was when her heart stopped. Recognition dawned on her face. Georgie knew instantly he had recognised her as the corners of his mouth twitched into a shy smile. “Hi.” His tone silvery and almost breathy.

“Hey.” She beamed back, “I’m Georgie.” She said, gazing up at him, admiring the way the sun caught around his halo of curls giving them an almost angelic glow.

“Lando.” He told to her, the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly. Neither of them could quite believe that they were sitting with each other.

“I - uh - It’s a wonderful day for it, isn’t it.” Georgie had panicked. She didn’t know what else to say and her mother used to always say: ‘if in doubt talk about the weather.’ It was something along those lines anyway. Silently cursing herself, she cringed at her awkwardness only to hear him chuckle at her comment.

“It’s much better now the rain has cleared off.” Lando instantly felt relaxed around her, he didn’t know what it was. Perhaps it was that she seemed just as socially inadequate as he was. “So Georgie.” He savoured the way her name rolled off his tongue. “What brings you to Goodwood? I hope you don’t mind me saying this but I heard you talking about it before you rushed off the other day.”

Georgie inched closer, almost leaning into the comfort and warmth he seemed to provide. “My friend and I are photographers and she somehow got us into working for the Goodwood Festival of Speed brand. I still don’t quite know how she did it, for some reason she didn’t want to talk about it.” She trailed off, a pink tinge creeping onto her cheeks as she had come to a rather astonishing conclusion. The corner of Lando’s mouth lifted at her innocence. “Anyway.” She moved on quickly. “As it turns out I am also here to meet my new boss.”

“It’s almost like it was meant to be.” Lando quirked. “Who are you working for now?”

“I’m the new photographer for the McLaren formula one team.” She explained, pride laced in her tone. Lando’s eyes widened, his mouth fell open in disbelief before he caught himself. Composed his expressions and stated very plainly...

“I’m Lando Norris. I drive for the McLaren formula one team. As it turns out you and I are about to attend the same meeting.”

Taglist: (please message me or leave a comment if you would like to be added :))

@mjuikoli @httplayer @phatyak

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seijorhi · 4 years

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Nothing Fucks with My Baby

The (not so) long awaited Hitman AU 👀

Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader

TW Blood, minor violence, referenced/implied murder, stalking, implied kidnapping

Iwaizumi has one rule. No kids.

They could be the damn antichrist for all he cares, if they’re underage, they’re off limits. Anyone else is fair game - kind old ladies, rich corrupt businessmen, housewives, politicians. He doesn’t give a shit so long as he gets paid, and paid well.

You were fair game.

He never cares why. Iwa has better things to do than listen to meaningless justifications and vendettas. They make no difference either way - he’s being paid to kill, so he’ll kill, ruthlessly and without prejudice. All he wants is a name, a picture and whether or not they want brains splattered on pavement or something a little more refined. An address doesn’t go astray, but he’ll work with what he’s got, it’s the reason he can charge a fucking premium.

But you… you weren’t what he expected. He’s used to filth. Liars, cheaters, bottom of the barrel trash. Every once in a while some poor idiot gets caught up in something they don’t understand and ultimately pay the price for it, but good people don’t often end up in files splayed across Iwaizumi’s desk. He’s not used to innocence, and as far as he’s concerned, you’re as close as they come.

He supposes that things might have been different if they’d wanted you dead quickly.

Publicly.

But they didn’t want that. They wanted you to disappear without a fucking trace. It wasn’t a kindness - it just meant more work for him. It meant that instead of staring down the barrel of a sniper rifle perched in the window of an empty apartment across the street from yours, he’d have to get his hands dirty.

If you want somebody to blame, sweetheart, why don’t you start with them?

In hindsight, he probably didn’t need to go inside the little coffee joint you worked at. He could lie to himself and say that it was an excuse to get closer to you, to see if you had friends at your work who might try and get in the way, but the simple truth was that he’d been up since four in the fucking morning, and he might just have shot somebody out of sheer irritation if he didn’t get a hit of caffeine and soon.

Might as well kill two birds with one stone, right?

And it wasn’t like you were going to recognise him. Three days in, and as far as Iwa can tell, you don’t have the slightest idea that you were being watched, much less that the pair of eyes watching belonged to a cold hearted killer.

People tend to be a little more scared when they sense he’s coming - there’s a kind of innate fear that seeps from every pore as they scurry about trying to hide, trying to put off the inevitable - but you, you’re just blissfully oblivious, flitting around with those wide doe eyes like you haven’t got a damn care in the world.

He honestly doesn’t know whether he wants to envy or pity you for that sweet naivety.

Currently though, he’s more concerned with whether or not you can make a half decent cup of coffee.

“I asked for an extra hot latte.”

Or he would be, if the asshole with slicked back hair and an expensive suit hadn’t cut him off just as he was about to step up to the counter to shove the coffee you’d just made him back in your face. He watches your eyes widen for a split second before you smile - apologetic and demure before you can even open your mouth.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is it not hot enough?”

The moment the words leave your lips, you all but flinch. Both you and he know that despite the fact you mean them sincerely (which kind of surprises him, considering that if your situations were reversed he wouldn’t have been nearly so generous) they’re a mistake.

The asshole sneers down at you like you’re nothing more than scum on his shoes. “If it was fucking hot enough, I wouldn’t be wasting my time complaining, now would I?”

Even before he found himself dabbling in his current line of work, Iwaizumi never considered himself much of a knight in shining armour. The world’s a shitty place, it’s not his job to go around fixing things and softening blows. He’s not a cold, emotionless bastard, as most people assume, he just has better things to do than run around playing a damn bleeding heart and sticking his neck out for strangers. It’s not his problem and as far as he’s concerned, he doesn’t owe anybody shit.

Impassive olive eyes watch as you try and backtrack, apologising again, offering to make him a new drink, explaining that the reason the coffee wasn’t as hot as he wanted was because you were trying not to scorch the milk- for naught.

You in your naive little world don’t seem to realise that the asshole doesn’t actually give a shit about the coffee. He wants a power trip, and you’ve given him the perfect excuse. He wants to yell and scream and stamp his feet and take all of his repressed anger and feelings of inadequacy out on you so that he can feel like a big man. He wants to see you whimper and cry and bow down before him.

It’s pathetic, but Iwa’s content to watch it play out, drumming his fingers against the wallet in his hand, more irritated with the delay in getting his own coffee than the outburst itself-

Until the asshole reaches for his latte.

Iwa’s good at reading people, predicting their movements before they’re even made. It’s a necessary skill in his profession, one that’s saved his skin more times than he can count. He sees the little vein in the asshole’s temple throb, his jaw tighten, and the moment his hand twitches towards the still steaming cup of coffee, Iwa knows that he fully intends on throwing it at you.

He moves quicker than a man of his size has any right to, an iron grip wrapping around the asshole’s wrist, squeezing. He glares, sneering down at the man who all of a sudden doesn’t seem quite so angry, much less imposing.

“Get out,” he hisses.

It’s not a request.

But the asshole either has a death wish or he’s trying to salvage what’s left of his fragile ego, because his beady eyes narrow and he opens his mouth - no doubt to spew more vitriolic bullshit.

Iwa twists.

Not hard enough to break anything, but hard enough that it sends the man to his knees, whimpering like a kicked puppy, desperate to relieve the pressure on his wrist.

“I said,” he begins, his voice colder than ice, “get out.”

Yet he doesn’t spare the asshole another glance, not even as he releases his grip and the man skitters away like he’s been burned. The cafe is deathly silent, and without even glancing around, Iwa knows that they’ve managed to draw the attention of most if not all of its patrons.

And for once, he doesn’t give a single fuck.

Iwa’s eyes, his attention, all of it is focused entirely on you - on the wide eyed, stunned look on your pretty face. It’s a violent outburst, not nearly close to what he’s truly capable of, but in the quiet little cafe on a dreary Tuesday morning, glaringly out of place.

Will you burst into tears, he wonders. Ignore it, brush it aside and pretend it never happened? Stutter out more apologies for causing a fuss, for making a simple mistake? He somehow doubts you’ll be the type to scold him for it. No, you’re far too meek for that.

You surprise him, smiling slowly instead, and it’s like the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm.

It’s a far cry from the contrite air you’d graced the asshole with earlier. It’s hesitant, nervous, but it’s very much real, and Iwa finds it difficult to stop the corners of his own lips from twitching upwards in response.

“Thank you,” you murmur.

He inclines his head a fraction. “Don’t worry about it.”

You don’t charge him for the coffee, even when he practically shoves the bills across the counter into your hands.

“Don’t worry about it,” you shyly parrot back at him, and he almost fucking snorts when there’s a warmed chocolate chip muffin waiting with his coffee when it’s ready.

He’s being paid forty grand to make sure you’re dead by the end of the week, and you’re here giving him free muffins. Oikawa would see the humour in that. Of course, Oikawa would have absolutely no qualms in charming the absolute hell out of you seconds before he pulled the trigger. Realistically, he shouldn’t either. It’s his job, nothing personal.

To say he enjoys killing is probably a stretch, but he takes pride in it. Iwa’s good at what he does. It’s simple. Easy - so long as he follows his own rules.

This shouldn’t be any different. You’re cute, he supposes, in an odd sort of way. Innocent.

Endearing.

It shouldn’t have an effect on him.

It doesn’t, but-

He could have killed you two days ago. He’d be willing to bet good money that he could’ve walked right to your apartment, knocked on your door, made up some bullshit excuse on the spot and you would have smiled and invited him right inside.

And it’s not like you’d stand a chance of being able to fight him off.

Over the past few days there have been at least twelve different moments that Iwaizumi could have stepped in and snuffed that pretty little life of yours out without making a fuss and it would have been easy.

But he hadn’t.

There’s a difference between surveillance and stalking - it’s a fine line, a blurred one maybe, but it’s there all the same. After yet another night spent camped out watching you move about your apartment - cooking dinner for yourself, zoning out on the couch and fiddling with your phone while the tv plays in the background before finally curling up in bed in the early hours of the morning - Iwa comes to the realisation that he’s crossed it.

He wonders why it doesn’t bother him like it should.

The next day, he goes back to your little coffee shop. There’s no muffin this time, but your face brightens when he walks through the door and when he goes to pick up his coffee there’s a tiny, bite sized cookie sitting atop the lid.

“Don’t tell my boss,” you whisper, darting a glance back over your shoulder even as another pretty little smile graces your features.

Something unexpectedly warm and pleasant sings through his blood, and this time Iwa allows his own lips to twitch into the faintest hint of a grin in response.

You really are a truly awful judge of character.

Maybe that’s your downfall, that beautiful, naive innocence you just bleed. It’s a wonder that nobody’s come along to take advantage of you, especially when you are so very ripe for the taking.

Well, nobody until him, he supposes.

Iwa doesn’t know for certain why the men who want you dead do, he doesn’t particularly care either, but he does know that whatever their reasons are, it’s not enough.

Neither is forty thousand dollars.

It takes time, more than he’d like, to find the root of it all. It’s messy and he has to call in a few favours from old friends, but Iwa is nothing if not thorough.

He’s never particularly enjoyed killing, but there’s a certain satisfaction he gets from watching the light leave their desperate, pleading eyes knowing that he’s finally done his job. When he comes home, his shirt flecked with blood, his hands still dripping with it and coaxes your stricken, tear stained face up into a lingering kiss, Iwa feels content.

They wanted you to disappear entirely, he made sure that you did.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere iwaizumi #yandere iwaizumi hajime #yandere iwaizumi x reader #yandere iwaizumi hajime x reader #yandere fic #my writing #tw stalking #tw blood #tw minor violence & implied murder

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battlekidx2 · 2 years

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Amphibia Season 3B Thoughts (Part 1)

Because of Tumblr’s image limit I split my thoughts into 2 parts. This part will cover “Escape to Amphibia” to “The Root of Evil”. (part 2 link)

With Amphibia entering its endgame next week I’ve decided to look back at all the episodes of season 3B so far and give my collected thoughts on each episode (I plan to do the same with The Owl House. Hollow Mind was insane). I’ve had a lot of fun with Amphibia as a show and want to finally give it the attention it deserves because I’ve had the luck of following this show since before season 2 began airing. I binged the first season on Disney+ in 2020 around the time that lockdown officially went into effect and I’ve been hooked since. This wasn’t a show I followed since the beginning like Korra or She-ra but I got into it early in its run and it holds a special place for me in the lexicon of cartoons I have watched because of this.

Matt Braly said on twitter that this week’s episodes were the last “fun episodes'' of the show before it officially entered its endgame. That coupled with his statement that the finale is pretty much a three parter that begins with “The beginning of the end” has made it so I would like to cover the final 3 weeks worth of episodes in one post (we’ll see I may become too excited to wait) and split my 3B review/thoughts into 2 parts.

Escape to Amphibia

Okay, I want to get this out of the way because it’s a bit nitpicky and just my personal preference. I said in my Amphibia series thoughts post that I thought this should have been the season 3A finale and I still stand by that statement. Would that have hurt me because of the cliffhanger it would have ended on? Yes, but I think that this would have been the best point to end 3A on because it would truly feel like the beginning of the end of Amphibia, the closing of the earth chapter of the story and the beginning of the endgame.

I really love the Christmas episode but it felt like an odd point to end 3A on considering how close to the endgame Amphibia was. Though it is on brand for Amphibia considering 2A ended on “The Shut in” which was a halloween themed episode. With that nitpick out of the way I’d like to talk about the actual episode which I really like.

I really liked how the episode made the music box theme and design make sense on a lore level and really expand what I initially thought was just a cool design choice. The music working as coordinates for other worlds was such a unique detail that I wasn’t really expecting for them to incorporate. In hindsight this was really obvious but at the time I was shocked.

I like that the episode chose to focus on Anne’s struggles to say goodbye to her parents. The first time she went to Amphibia she didn’t get to do that. She disappeared without any knowledge about where she went or if she would ever be able to get back. There was no closure on either end. Her avoidance boils over because she can’t ignore the seemingly insurmountable tasks she must complete and the reality that her making it back home isn’t guaranteed this time either. She’s going to be saying goodbye to her parents for maybe the last time and that hurts.

Anne’s parents are once again the MVPs of the season with their heartfelt assurance and support helping Anne forward. They are just so supportive. This is probably redundant because everyone knows this by now but Anne has the best parents. They made her a care package and helped her go against the FBI and knew how important getting back to Amphibia is to her even through her conflict. (They are also telling Mr. X about everything which I think brings credence to the theory that earth and Amphibia will have to fight together. If that’s the case Anne’s parents really are the MVPs on the earth side of the story)

This episode was full of visual callbacks which helped sell that this was the endgame. Everything has changed, all the characters have impacted each other in some way, and nothing can ever be the same. The contrast really emphasizes the passage of time. The two most striking visual callback are when Anne uses her powers and stomps on the ground to knock the FBI agents over and the final shot of Anne and the Planters overlooking what has become of Amphibia.

I really like the scene where Anne activates her powers and strengthens the portal. The visual parallels are really fun. The scene above is very reminiscent of Sasha during the third temple and I think that is intentional. Sasha’s redesign has her incorporate blue into her armor along with the red which symbolizes how Anne has changed Sasha and how she is incorporating the lessons she has learned throughout Amphibia and through Anne into herself. The effect on each other is mutual. Sasha was not a good friend to Anne before this point but her good traits (when not taken to the extreme) have rubbed off on Anne and in some ways inspired her like she said in “The Third Temple”.

The second parallel, the final shot with Anne and the Plantars overlooking Amphibia was so jarring and it was even more shocking because this is the exact same view that they saw when they first exited the valley and the world was opened to them. The contrast between those two moments is amazing.

This really sells the feeling that this episode marks the beginning of the end of Amphibia. It also makes sure that the lasting impact of True Colors is felt. We saw it in “Olivia and Yunan” briefly but it hits differently when it’s through the eyes of Anne and the Plantars. We’ve spent more time with them and these are the characters we first explored this world with so even though this wasn’t the first time we saw this in some ways it felt like it was (hopefully that made sense).

Side note: I loved all the Star Wars references. I’m a massive star wars fan so seeing Anne in the dark hallway with the red light saber and knowing it was a homage to Darth Vader’s scene (you know the one) in Rogue One just elevated it for me. This was just pure fun.

I don’t have much that I wasn’t a fan of. It’s more there are things I wish we could have seen more of. I really liked the dynamic of Terri and Dr. Jan in this episode and wish that they had interacted earlier.

Commander Anne/Sprivy

I had fun with these episodes. I have the same problems with them that I’ve seen a lot of people voice about how it makes Anne less capable than she usually is so that they can rush Sasha being given back command but I do believe that Sasha was the better person to be in command because of her experiences as a lieutenant in the toad army and her natural cunning and leadership ability.

Anne knows that she isn’t aware of all the things that Sasha is and she’s not quite ready to jump into a leadership role immediately. She’s having to go from earth and leaving her family behind again to leader of a rebellion in less than 24 hours. That’s a lot of pressure to put on anyone so Anne struggling to fill the role is natural.

Having Anne and Sasha form a partnership rather than a commander and subordinate role was smart. Sasha has a knack for warfare and leadership that Anne doesn’t have but Anne is more in tune with the feelings of those around her and can understand their needs. They both have different, complementary strengths that make them equals. The execution was a little off but the points the episode makes and the conclusion it comes to are all things I agree with based on the characters. (I wrote in my Amphibia series thoughts about how well Sasha’s experiences and traits make her transition to rebellion leader work)

I love Sasha’s new character design. The blue incorporated into her previously completely red outfit shows how Anne has changed her and how she has accepted it as part of herself now. Her hair is down in contrast to her usual updo and shows how she has loosened her stranglehold on having control and is more open emotionally (a very literal representation of “letting her hair down”).

She is also noticeably more muscular now which matches her strength gem and shows her dedication to training that has been talked about in every season (she literally wore weighted clothing all the time as shown in the third temple and was nonstop training in toadcatcher). This redesign is also just really cool.

I liked the idea that Sasha immediately gave up control because she doesn’t trust herself with all the power. She believes that she ruined everything last time (to be fair she sort of did) but she neglects to give herself credit for how much she has changed. The old Sasha wouldn’t have relinquished power in the first place and would have fought every step of the way to keep control. The fact that she is so afraid of falling back into old habits shows that she’s different.

Sasha has been faced with multiple crossroads throughout the series and until “Turning Point” she always made the wrong choice. Her decision in “Turning Point” and her continued attempts to be different than she was before is what I believe redemption is all about, continually choosing to be a different, better person every step of the way.

I appreciate that Anne thought that Sasha’s insistence that Anne needs to be in charge was a new manipulation tactic because even though Sasha has changed Anne hasn’t been there to see it happen. Sasha has betrayed Anne twice and no amount of verbal assurance that she’s a new person can change the damage that has been done in such a short amount of time.

Now for “Sprivy”. I liked Sasha in this episode (not that surprising) because even though she’s turned over a new leaf she isn’t suddenly a completely different person. She calls Sprig and Ivy “Twerp and twerpette”, is completely done with their clingy fledgling relationship very quickly, and is still prone to anger (though she does hold it back much better).

I don’t have much to say about this episode outside of this, the fact that I like that Wally’s father comes back as the rich benefactor that is supporting wartwood and Sprivy learning that they shouldn’t let their new relationship dictate all their decisions was nice because first relationships can be hard to find that balance in.

Sasha’s Angels/Olm Town Road

First up “Sasha’s angels”. This episode was fun but didn’t contribute to the plot nearly as much as I would have hoped. I had a lot of fun with Toadie but I was a lot more interested in the Anne and Sasha part of the episode even if it didn’t get much focus comparatively. Sasha’s redemption and reconciliation with Anne have been a long time coming so I appreciate all the points in the story where they are allowed to adress the cracks in their relationship.

Anne doubts Sasha’s intentions when it comes to waiting for Mrs. Croaker’s team instead of charging in to save them. She understandably doubts that Sasha sees the frogs as individuals she cares for instead of disposable pawns like she did with the toad army. This is understandable considering how Sasha frequently saw others as stepping stones for her to use to gain control. But it’s made clear once again that Sasha truly has changed. She does care about those “beneath” her but she knows that she can’t charge recklessly in because that could make things worse for everybody.

Anne really did show Sasha how to trust others to do things rather than take control and do everything yourself but she hasn’t been here for months and hasn’t had the chance to see the way the others have grown so she is also understandably worried. It’s not that she doesn’t trust them its just that her last time seeing them they would not have been able to escape the way that they did. It’s another case of seeing how Anne has changed the people around her, the frogs have learned to stand up for themselves and Sasha has changed her leadership mindset for the better, and how the others can help Anne.

Now onto “Olm Town Road”. Sasha steals this episode. She very clearly projects onto Lysil and Angwin and it adds another layer to Sasha’s guilt over her mistakes. Sasha’s anger on Lysil and Angwin’s behalf reflects her own guilt and desire for redemption and fear that she doesn’t deserve this third chance that Anne has given her. If they can’t find redemption then how can she? (though if we’re being honest Sasha is at least on her third chance, so her spiel about second chances is a little comedic in this context)

I like that they aren’t totally ignoring Sasha’s mistakes or downplaying her desire to make things right. There hasn’t been a big blow up or a confrontation like I think some people expected, I expected more pushback myself before the episodes started airing, but I think the Amphibia crew has done a good job showing how this has effected them in every interaction they’ve had so far.

Sasha continuously overcompensates while trying to prove she’s changed and become the person “Anne deserves'' and Anne has doubted Sasha’s intentions and motivation on more than one occasion. Anne isn’t the type of person to blow up at someone. Her actions in “True Colors'' weren't the norm but they were necessary. She was standing up for herself and Sasha deserved to be told off for betraying Anne yet again. And if Sasha was to show that side of her again in 3B I have no doubt that Anne would blow up at her once more but Sasha has been genuinely trying and Anne can see that.

Anne wants her friend back as seen in her journal and if Sasha is willing to try then Anne will meet her halfway (this and Anne saw the start of change when Sasha fought with her in True Colors). This has always been Anne’s character. I can understand wishing there was more conflict because of how devastating the second betrayal was and how final her severing their friendship seemed at the time, but I don’t think this is out of character.

I also believe there is some guilt on Anne’s part for their last fight on top of the Newtopian walls. Anne was understandably angry but she was being vicious in their last fight, going for headshots and kill blows (crew members even pointed it out on twitter afterwards). Sasha was obviously holding back, constantly on the defensive and not even trying to go on the offensive, and could have ended the fight at multiple points if she wanted to (like in the photo below) but she chose to try and reason with Anne. I think Anne recognizes this and feels bad about it. She thinks they both screwed up in their last encounter.

And Anne got to see the start of Sasha’s change. “Turning Point” was obviously the true start to Sasha’s redemption where she was at a crossroads and finally made the right choice, but “True Colors” was where she first decided to have Anne’s back and hold Andrias off so that Anne and Marcy could make it through the portal. We got to see them work together (in a “the enemy of my enemy is my friend” sort of way). Sasha finally gives up control to someone else by deciding to have their back and tries to take responsibility for her actions and set things right. Anne got to see Sasha’s good qualities shine through even if it was only for a moment.

Sasha’s moment of standing up to the Olm leader also shows a moment of growth. Sasha has stood in that very position and yelled at leaders before in “Barrel’s Warhammer” as shown below.

In “Barrel’s Warhammer” she is standing on top of a toad soldier, not caring who she has to walk on for power, and yelling at the leaders because they don’t want her and Grime to lead after hearing that Anne and Marcy were working together in Newtopia. In “Olm Town Road” she is standing atop a drill, a symbol of corruption and greed, that the leader is arguing is planted and defending Lysil and Angwin, two olms she just met, claiming that she doesn’t care what the Olm’s think of her if they can’t see what’s right in front of them, pointing out their hypocrisy.

Overall I had fun with these episodes and really liked how Sasha was used in them (she easily stole the show) but they weren’t exactly what I was expecting if I’m completely honest. The Plantars were kind of just there and they have a tendency to lose relevance within this half of the season. They haven’t had much focus in season 3B (Sprig gets a few episodes later but this doesn’t entirely fix the problem) and they don’t get much growth with anyone outside of Anne save for “Grime’s pupil”.

This was also a really odd cut off point for the episode. I remember watching this when I came out and being confused by that decision. It works better when you can go straight into “Mother of Olms” like I did on this rewatch. I think this odd ending point also played into why people were frustrated with the episode “Mother of Olms” because they had a week of anticipation and build up for what ended up being only 2 minutes worth of plot progression.

Mother of Olms/Grime’s Pupil

“Mother of Olms” was an interesting episode because on the one hand it did finally reveal the prophecy to the characters in the show and we got the implication that Anne could activate Sasha and Marcy’s powers on the other this is a prophecy that any fan that watches youtube or is active in the cartoon community would already know about.

I watch VGMarkis’ videos (which are phenomenal by the way. I recommend watching his episode breakdowns. His channel is linked) and so I already knew about the prophecy before this episode which sadly made this less enjoyable for me. That and I’ve never been the biggest fan of gross out humor which this episode was chalk full of (though I did enjoy the magic school bus homage that the journey to mother olm’s brain evoked).

But on a much more positive note the music, colors, and animation in this episode were all phenomenal. I’ve always loved the softer color palette that amphibia uses for its world and characters and the coloring for mother Olm and the cave surrounding her were all really pleasing to the eye. The music that played when mother olm recanted the prophecy and answered Anne and Sasha’s questions was great and makes me wish that Amphibia could get its score released (there are other great tracks like Sasha’s theme, Marcy’s truth, Anne’s powers, etc).

On a rewatch I actually like this episode a lot more than I did the first time. It hasn’t jumped up to be among my favorites of the series but I wasn’t disappointed like I was when I first watched the episode. I think sometimes expectations can be built sky high when waiting a week, especially for an episode that promises plot progression in a show like Amphibia. I had a lot more fun with this episode and liked the reveal of the prophecy much more. I could sit back and take in the visuals and music without anything clouding my expectations which really helped me.

The extra ramblings of mother olm are also a lot clearer on re-watch. Mother olm talks about how Anne, Sasha, and Marcy are meant to save Amphibia from their worst selves while the screen shows them fighting off what has been confirmed to be “a symbolic representation of Amphibia’s greed and corruption”. This once again hammers home the themes of the show. Amphibia is about change and growth and becoming your best self. Anne and Sasha have both changed for the better from their first appearances and they have changed the characters around them for the better as well.

This is also the case for Marcy (not to the same degree as Sasha and Anne but still). She helped Newtopia and effected Yunan, Olivia, and is implied to have at the very least seeded doubt into Andrias. This whole show is about change for the better and bringing out the best in others so it could be setting up Andrias to do “one good thing” with his life. I don’t think he’s had enough moments of doubt and genuine connection to set him up for a full redemption but having him do one good thing would be fitting.

Marcy is the only one of the three friends that still has an arc to undergo. Anne and Sasha have gotten to the point where they have been able to work through their toxic traits and have made genuine connections. Matt Braly said that Marcy didn’t make any genuine connections in her time in Amphibia and this hurdle is part of her character arc. I really want to see how this will be handled. I have faith in the Amphibia crew so I’m not nervous.

Also Sasha was pathetic this episode and it was really funny. The fearless leader of the rebellion who has never had to put her name in the book of cowards tried to sit out this mission because it was too gross.

In the first 2 and a half seasons because of Sasha’s limited screen time every episode she was in was very plot and character focused. She didn’t really get the chance to be ridiculous in the same way everyone else was because her episodes were heavy in drama and angst. Now thanks to her upgrade in status to the main cast she gets to have these types of moments and I couldn’t be happier.

I unironically loved “Grime’s Pupil”. It wasn’t the episode I thought I would come away enjoying more between the two but it was. I really like the decision to pair up Grime and Sprig. They haven’t had much of a chance to interact in the series and none of their interactions have been one on one until now. I am biased because I love Grime and I have wanted more of him since the show returned to Amphibia. His dynamic with Sasha is my favorite in the entire series but I have wanted to see how he interacts with other characters when he’s outside of Sasha’s orbit for a while now.

Sprig and Grime was such a fun dynamic to explore. I didn’t really think that much about the level of animosity Sprig must have felt towards Grime for years until this episode and I liked how it handled Grime and Sprig learning to respect the people that each of them had become. Grime is no longer the tyrant who only wanted power and didn’t care for the people beneath him and Sprig isn’t a helpless, weak frog that toads are conditioned to believe all frogs are.

I love how exaggerated Grime and Sprig’s expressions would become in this episode. They got to have some of the most fun and dynamic animation in 3B. I liked how the exaggeration was used in the fights as well to emphasize Grime and Sprig’s strengths in their fight against the Hybeenas (I don’t know if I spelled that right).

I also enjoyed being able to see Sasha and Anne being friends and in a partnership leading the rebellion. Anne filling in Sasha’s blind spots when it comes to the feelings of Sprig and Grime and backing her up in her decree that made Sprig and Grime work together was just fun background development. That and the fact that we’ve gotten to see them be a lot more casual with their touches and interactions (like holding hands in “Mother of Olms”, Sasha slinging her arm around Anne’s shoulders, the “drumroll please”, etc). There isn’t the weight or awkwardness that was present in season 2 and we are seeing two people who are childhood friends interacting.

We get to see some cracks in Sasha’s usually put together facade (let's face it Sasha is a mess underneath. We all know it) during the cheer at Sprig and Beatrix’s matchup. “I’m very busy Hop Pop!” and not changing the cheer makes me question how exactly she is coping with the stress she is under. This is just a little thing that I would like to see more insight into if possible.

The Root of Evil

“The Root of Evil” was unexpected because I would have never in a million years thought that a cartoon airing on Disney channel would have an entire episode paying homage to Midsommar. I remember watching Midsommar in theaters when it came out (I am a fan of many A24 films and appreciate their horror) and so I understood all the references.

This scene in particular gave me chills. Anyone who’s watched the movie knows what this is referencing and lets just say it’s not nearly as fun as this makes it out to be which should say something.

I really like how season 3 is bringing back aspects from seasons 1 and 2 so that the story really feels like it is coming full circle. This is a plot point I knew was going to come back when I first watched “Children of the Spore” and I’m only shocked that it didn’t come back earlier.

I appreciate that this is a Hop Pop centric episode. There isn’t any real new development on his end though which I wish was rectified. The Plantars feel superfluous at times and when they do get the spotlight it doesn’t really further their development as characters or their relationship to others (Polly is sort of just there in 3B). I understand that season 3B has a lot of ground to cover and I think the decision to focus on other characters and plot points works because of this. I just feel that most of the episodes focusing on the Plantars this season haven’t packed the same punch that episodes in seasons 1 and 2 did.

Side note: I love the Major Armstrong reference. This actually isn’t the only Fullmetal Alchemist brotherhood reference this show has made. My favorite is probably Anne pointing at Sasha when being dragged out of the throne room in “True Colors” being a reference to the scene where Edward swears to come back for Alphonse when he sees him at the doors of truth.

Also there continues to be Hop Pop death flags.

#amphibia #sasha waybright #anne boonchuy #season 3 #sprig #hop pop #polly #sasha and anne's relationship is so complicated #this is the beginning of the end #i can't wait for this week's episodes

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floralseokjin · 3 years

Text

⤑ made-up love song drabbles

Seokjin’s chapter ix

kim seokjin x reader warnings; angst, this feels pretty heavy at certain points but gets lighter as you go on, there’s a therapy session included, and just a lot of introspection words; 7,459

author’s note; this kind of ran away with me, wasn’t expecting it to be so long haha but I hope you enjoy!

Read the original chapter ix here

↪︎ read the series here / and drabbles here

After you left Seokjin immediately poured the rest of his whisky down the sink and rinsed his glass. His mind was whirring, head heavy and starting to throb. He swallowed two painkillers down with some water and took a deep breath. He felt like crying. It felt like everything was crumbling around him. All his recent happiness, all his progress, and now possibly it seemed, his relationship with you…

He’d wanted nothing more than to beg you to stay, and he had to an extent, but he knew it wasn’t right. He closed his eyes, not quite believing you’d witnessed all that. You probably thought he was a monster. He hadn’t lost his temper quite like that in a while, not since before the divorce… Embarrassment washed over him, yet he couldn’t stop himself from still being mad at Nana. He knew what you said made sense. He knew he’d been out of line but Nana continuously goaded him. She’d done so throughout their marriage. But he was no saint, he knew how to provoke her too. It’s what they did best.

He moved away from the sink and tried to quash his anger, instead thinking of you and how much he had hurt and upset you. He hadn’t meant for it to get that bad, and he knew deep down that the reason he was so angry was because he’d brought it all on himself. He caused the incident by keeping his relationship with you secret. It hadn’t been on purpose, he wasn’t being vindictive, if anyone would believe him. He just… He had been selfish. He didn’t want to ruin anything because he was finally really happy after god knows how long. It was stupid in hindsight, but what was done was done now.

He reached for Arin’s mug of hot chocolate and fresh waves of guilt and emotion hit him. She didn’t deserve any of this. He needed to be there for her, to push his own troubles away and put on a brave face because none of this was her fault. She needed to know that. Thankfully, the drink hadn’t grown cold yet, and he finished it off with some cream and mini marshmallows. He took one last deep breath and made his way down the hallway. Moping was no good for him. That’s what Chaewon always said.

Arin looked happy to see him, instantly reaching out to him as he took a seat next to her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and hugged her close, kissing the top of her head. He immediately felt lighter with relief. His daughter had always been his magical cure, and even though a cuddle wouldn’t make everything in his life right again, it certainly helped, and was very much needed. She asked where you were at one point, and unsure what to say, and feeling like shit for lying, he quickly said you needed to be somewhere. Arin probably didn’t buy it, looking dubious as a result of today, bus she didn’t say anything, asking instead if they could watch a movie.

She wasn’t very talkative, and he didn’t blame her. Neither was he. He spent most of Shrek the Third lost in his own thoughts. As his anger slowly drifted away, shame replaced it. He’d been absolutely awful today and even if some of the things he’d said to Nana came from a valid place of concern, most were shouted for no reason other than frustration and hatred on his part. He was ashamed of himself.

After the movie finished, Arin complained she was feeling hungry, so he left her to pick a new movie while he found something to cook up for dinner. He caught sight of the bowl of salad and his heart sunk, remembering the picnic outside. There was no salvaging it now, everything had probably spoiled in the sun, and as he waited for Arin’s dinner to cook, he went outside with a garbage bag, throwing away all the food you’d painstakingly prepared. It felt like he was throwing your relationship in the trash. He didn’t eat with that thought in mind, managing one piece of toast before it turned on him.

At around 6pm his phone started to ring, vibrating in his front pocket and giving him a shock. For a split second he prayed it was you, but he knew he was being foolish. You needed time and if he was being honest with himself, so did he. He needed to concentrate on Arin tonight, as much as he…loved…you, his daughter’s wellbeing was the most important thing. If he could just make sure Arin was okay, then tomorrow he could concentrate on you and him.

Pulling out the device he saw it was Nana. He suddenly felt very, very sick but picked up with a cautious hello. He was almost 100% sure she wanted to speak with Arin, the only way she could seeing as Arin was too young to have a phone of her own, but he was still wary, not wanting a repeat of earlier.

“I want to speak to my daughter.” There was anger to her tone, and he knew her well enough to understand she had her guard up right now. She’d left his place upset and emotional, and that was two of the things she hated people seeing. Especially him. She hated being vulnerable.

Seokjin sighed weakly. “Nana, come on, don’t be like that.” He hesitated, wanting to say sorry for today but the word wouldn’t come. Despite the guilt setting in, he was still pretty angry and frustrated himself.

“I want to speak with Arin,” she repeated. “Will you let me?”

“Of course I will,” he replied. What did she take him for?

He turned to Arin, ready to tell her it was her mom on the phone, but she was already waiting, her ears probably catching Nana’s name a few seconds previous. He smiled gently at her and passed his cell phone over. He tried to concentrate on the television as they spoke, not wanting to eavesdrop. Arin was uncharacteristically quiet as she hummed along to whatever Nana was saying, the occasional okay and I know slipping from her lips as she curled a lock of hair around her finger over and over again, but he understood why. Today had been overwhelming for everyone involved but especially her. She hadn’t seen or heard them argue in a long time, both he and Nana careful to hide them from her as of late. Today had been an awful mistake and the now a stronger wave of guilt was eating him up.

After a few minutes he heard Arin tell her mother she loved her and then she hung up, returning the phone to Seokjin. He stretched over and placed the device on the coffee table, turning back to his daughter apologetically. “I’m sorry about today, Arin.”

She immediately flung herself into his arms, wrapping hers around his sides to hug him tight. He squeezed her right back, running his fingers through her hair gently. “Daddy was really angry, I shouldn’t have shouted.”

“Mommy shouted too,” she reminded him. “She was angry that I called Y/N my stepmom.” Hesitantly she looked up at him, her eyes wide with worry. “I didn’t know it was wrong.”

Seokjin sighed gently, trying to see things from Nana’s point of view. “It’s not a wrong word. It’s just a word that hurt your mother’s feelings.” Arin looked a little confused by that explanation, and suddenly Seokjin felt the urge to be as honest as he could with her. She was still young, yes, but she wasn’t stupid. Far from it actually. She deserved not to be kept in the dark.

“She… she didn’t know that Y/N is my girlfriend.”

“Why?”

“I was wrong and didn’t tell her.”

Arin stayed silent as she mulled his words over. After a few moments she simply said, “I didn’t know that.”

Seokjin ran a hand down her back, choosing his next words carefully. “Will you tell me what happened today? How mommy found out?”

Arin wriggled away from him to get comfier, sitting back against the sofa again. Seokjin copied, lifting his arm up so she could cuddle up to him. “She asked if I had a new bracelet and I told her Y/N had bought it for me last weekend when I stayed with her.”

Looking down at her wrist now, Seokjin saw no bracelet and he guessed Arin had taken it off in a bid not to hurt her mom even more. She was such a sweet child, always thinking of other people’s feelings.

“Mommy asked who she was and I said she was my stepmom – only because Suzie told me that’s what she is. Suzie has one too and it was fun because then we both had stepmoms.”

Seokjin nodded along in understanding. “It’s okay, it was only a misunderstanding. But to use that word it needs to be discussed first, okay?”

It was Arin’s turn to nod and Seokjin continued carefully. He was well aware everything was up in the air now so it hurt hearing the words that came out of his own month. “Right now Y/N is just Y/N. Before we use that word we have to make sure she likes it, alright? And mommy too.”

“I didn’t know.”

“I know you didn’t,” he comforted, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. He wasn’t even too sure she knew what exactly the word meant.

They both stayed silent for a little while before Arin spoke again. “You and mommy haven’t argued for a long time until today…because I said that word…”

“Hey,” Seokjin exclaimed softly wanting her to look his way. “We didn’t argue because of you. None of this is your fault, okay? It’s my fault and I’m really sorry.”

She gave him a small smile and patted his head. “It’s okay, daddy. I still love you.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. He could always count on his daughter to cheer him up. “Thank you, Arin.” He kissed her cheek. “I love you too. Very much.”

The new week started off badly. He had been foolish to think Mondays were something of a fresh start, foolish to think calling you first thing in the morning was a good idea, and as you told him you needed some space and that you’d call him once the week was over he couldn’t help but think the worst. You’d insisted that you weren’t mad at him, and you had no reason to lie to him, but there was no doubt you were upset… overwhelmed. That morning he’d woken up even more ashamed of the way he’d acted the day before, wincing as he remembered the way he’d lost his temper. He’d sworn that he would never let that side of himself appear ever again, but it was easier said than done. Nana had struck a nerve with the way she had spoken to you and it had been impossible to keep his cool.

He felt deeply ashamed when he thought about how confused you must have felt watching he and his ex-wife hurl abuse at each other. Deeply ashamed when he thought about the way you’d found out things he had never told you… You were hurt he’d never let you know what triggered his divorce, and he understood why completely. It wasn’t like it hadn’t crossed his mind to share such a personal detail with you, it had, of course it had, he just couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Your experience with infidelity was the complete opposite of his. You had your heart torn to pieces by your ex-fiancé and he had his ego bruised… His marriage with Nana had already been completely over, he just didn’t have the guts to get out. She was correct, he was a coward through and through.

But most of all he was deeply ashamed of his behaviour entirely. He had never meant to compare the both of you. He had never meant to use you to hurt Nana. It was extremely petty, such a low blow, and he didn’t know where it had come from. Rage had washed over him and he’d spat words that he couldn’t take back. It was the worst thing he’d ever done in his entire life, and despite the grievances he had with Nana, he regretted those words deeply. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her like that. It was shameful, and he felt horrendous for hurting both women with his foolish behaviour.

Was there a happy ending after this? If Nana didn’t already hate him, she did now, and you were probably not too far behind. You’d seen him at his most poisonous, heard him use you to prove a point, found out things he’d kept from you, and learned he’d kept you a secret from his ex-wife. How embarrassed you must have felt… How confused… He’d made so many mistakes along the way, it was a wonder they hadn’t caught up with him sooner…

He wouldn’t be able to bear it if you wound up hating him. Not when he loved you so much. He hadn’t even had a chance to confess yet, coming so close to it Saturday night but backing out because he was scared it was too soon. He’d made the decision there and then to tell you once he took you to Paris, getting swept away with the idea and the romance of it all, but now the regret for not professing his love that night was like a lead weight inside his chest. Would it have changed anything? Would yesterday have had a different outcome?

And while he was regretting things, he regretted not letting Nana know about the relationship. Yesterday could have been avoided completely – maybe.

The more he thought, the worse it got and by Tuesday he could feel himself spiralling. He knew the feeling all too well. Soobin had already worked out something was the matter. (His lack of morning shave a dead giveaway.) And that meant he was doing a terrible job at hiding his mood. He couldn’t have Arin sensing the same. She obviously hadn’t forgotten about the weekend and wouldn’t anytime soon, but he couldn’t make it worse for her. He needed to be there for her, as her father, not too busy distracted with his own misery. It was selfish.

But he couldn’t suppress it all. He knew that was unhealthy. So, Tuesday night, once Arin was tucked up in bed sound asleep, he called the one person his former happiness had been neglecting for months now…

“Seokjin,” Chaewon greeted, her warm voice laced with surprise. “Long time no speak.”

He felt guilt immediately wash over him. “Yeah… I’m sorry about that.” It was stupid really, she wasn’t taking it personally, he could guarantee that, but nevertheless it was an emotion he was all too familiar with these days.

Chaewon chuckled. “Don’t apologise for being happy and not needing me.”

His heart twisted.

She sensed his trouble. “Jin?”

He hesitated, looking down at the bottle of whisky sat at his desk. He was in his home office. “Something happened.”

There was silence as his therapist processed his vague words before she pressed him gently, “Oh?”

He took a breath. “Are you free to talk?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I’m sorry for calling you out of hours.” He apologised. “Don’t feel bad about billing me for this. I’ll even pay double.”

“Seokjin, don’t be silly,” she told him softly. “Let’s name this a friendship call. Now, what’s wrong?” She sensed the last bit of reluctance he was holding onto. “Come on, you can tell me anything.”

He sighed. “I don’t know where to start.”

“How about from the beginning?”

They spoke for an hour in the end, Chaewon listening attentively as he explained the weekend’s events. He left nothing out, or least what he could remember. He made no attempt to hide his wrongdoings or soften the story. He didn’t want to. He knew he had done wrong. She was sympathetic, but she didn’t mince her words when it came to her disappoint in him.

After the argument he and Nana had gotten into just before Arin had moved in with him, he had worked hard with Chaewon to find a way to curb the anger he often felt when he and his ex-wife communicated. He thought he had been successful, but now he realised all he’d done was find ways to avoid it. He barely spoke to Nana unless he had to, a hello barely exchanged when she called in the evenings to speak to their daughter. A text shared to confirm when Arin would get picked up for the weekend, or one shared to cancel visits… He saw her even less. Jia, Nana’s PA and closest friend was the one who collected their daughter, and he knew it was because his ex-wife wanted to avoid him just as much.

In the long term they had just been making things worse. That’s why last Sunday had been so bad. A build-up of every single frustration felt since the last time they’d seen one another, because no doubt Nana had her own list. It was a recipe for disaster.

It felt good to confide in someone though, someone who knew him very well on a professional and personal level. Chaewon was amazing at putting him in his place so kindly. It was a gift really, and he appreciated it immensely. The older woman saw his negative traits but never judged him. She understood them and tried her best to help him with them. He guessed that was her job, but she did it so well it was hard not to see her as some sort of friend.

That’s why when she asked to see him in person tomorrow he didn’t hesitate to free up his schedule. Truth was, he wanted it too. His mind was still clouded and he needed her insight. Her advice. He wanted a good night sleep too but he didn’t think that would be possible any time soon, no matter how much Chaewon tried to help him. Not when his sheets continued to smell like you…

“It’s about time you both let go of the past.”

Seokjin let Chaewon’s words sink in as he sat opposite her, nervously chewing on a nail. It wasn’t a habit of his, but it was somewhat of a distraction right now. A comfort. They should have let go of the past a long time ago. Maybe then they would have divorced sooner. Maybe then there would be less resentment….

“Arin is the one thing you have in common and you need to work together in order to be the best possible parents you can.”

That cut his heart deep, a twinge similar to what he’d felt all week. Ever since you left. “I know,” he replied quietly. “It’s just…”

He couldn’t continue. Despite how he’d insinuated Nana was a bad mother, he didn’t think that deep down. They both loved their daughter equally, but that love was separate. It had been separate practically since she was born. Arin was missing their combined love, although she knew no different…

“You need to let go of all that bitterness and resentment.” Chaewon continued. Words she had said fairly regularly for the last two years or so. “For your sake, for Arin’s…” But now there was a new addition. “…and Y/N’s.”

Seokjin snorted. “Who said I haven’t scared her away already?”

Chaewon stare turned a little stern. “It was a shock to the system, anyone would need some time to process what happened.” When he stayed silent, she continued. “You have to make her see you’re trying your best to change things. You need to take responsibility for your actions.”

“I will.”

He wanted nothing more than to apologise profusely and answer any questions you had, but you’d requested time first and he was listening. He was just scared that time would work against him. He continued on, ignoring his deepest, darkest worry.

“It’s not fair on her. She should never have witnessed all that, and it just drums in how unfair this has been to Arin her whole life.” Arin had been the witness to many an argument when he and Nana were still married. “I hurt the people closet to me because of my careless actions,” he concluded with a sad smile. Time after time.

“And it’s not too late to change that,” Chaewon reminded. “Put a stop to all this nonsense.”

Seokjin’s smile grew for a millisecond, feeling like a child getting told off.

“Your marriage with Nana didn’t work out, that’s life. But you have a beautiful little girl together. That’s the most important thing, and it goes hand in hand with your own happiness.” She paused and then continued. “It’s very obvious that Y/N brings a great deal of that to the table.”

Yes, you did make him deliriously happy. He felt young again when he was with you. He felt invincible. Loved. He felt loved.

“Concentrate on both of them – Arin and Y/N – and make some changes. Talk to Nana – civilly. Make this work and you can all be happy. I promise you that.”

He had never heard Chaewon like this before, she was practically pleading with him. He let out a little laugh. “You make it sound so simple.”

She simply smiled at him. “If you’re determined enough, it is.”

“Mom wants to talk to you.”

Seokjin looked at his phone outstretched in Arin’s hand with slight confusion. For the past four nights, ever since Sunday, Nana had spoken with Arin just before she had to get ready for bed. It was routine now, another avoidance, he exchanged a hello with her and then passed the phone on. Her tone less defensive as the days went on. Tonight had been the same despite his session with Chaewon this lunchtime. But to his surprise, maybe Nana was making the first move.

He took the phone from Arin with a smile, not wanting to make her nervous. Usually he left her alone to speak to her mother, not wanting to pry or insert himself but tonight he was sat next to her on the sofa, replying to emails on his laptop. He hadn’t been listening at all, too engrossed with finalising details for an upcoming project, so of course it had come as a shock to find Arin passing the phone to him.

“Hello?”

“I was just wondering if I could have Arin this weekend.” Nana totally bypassed a greeting of any kind, but she wasn’t demanding in her tone, nor defensive, it was just the way she was. She’d always been straight to the point, no time for pleasantries, and many years ago, when they’d first met, he’d found it highly amusing.

“Um, of course,” he replied, taken back a little. He would be more than happy for her to have Arin. It wasn’t her weekend, but that had never bothered him before. He wanted Arin to see her as much as possible. It was only fair seeing as their daughter now lived with him.

There was a brief silence before Nana spoke again. Had she been expecting him to say no? Surely not. But then again, after last weekend maybe her worries were valid. She found her bearings. “What time does she finish school? I’m taking Friday out, I’ll drive down and collect her.”

Seokjin couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. Nana had not once collected Arin herself. “She finishes at 3.”

Nana hesitated, “Do you think they’d let her finish early?”

“I don’t know… It’s usually only emergencies –”

“Never mind,” she stopped him. “There was just a bunch of things I’d planned, thought we could get a head start, it’s fine.”

He glanced over at Arin who was watching him hopefully. It was obvious what their phone call had entailed. They’d been making plans for the weekend and Arin was visibly excited. He smiled at her.

“I could always phone the school tomorrow,” he suggested to Nana. “See if it’s possible. Maybe she could skip the whole day?”

Nana sounded ecstatic. Something he hadn’t heard in years. “Really? Do you think there’s a chance they’d say yes?”

He shrugged to himself. “It’s just one day, I don’t see why not.”

Nana was busy thinking. “Maybe I could take tomorrow afternoon away from the office too… Pick her up at 3.”

It was his turn to hesitate now, opening his mouth ready to suggest something. He knew he owed his ex-wife an apology, but over the phone just wouldn’t do. He needed to see her. He went for it. “Or I could do it for you? I can drive her to you.”

“You would do that?” She sounded shocked.

“If she’s allowed to miss a day then yes.”

“Oh.” It wasn’t often Nana was left speechless. “Okay,” she agreed after a moment. “That would be great actually.”

His attention went back to Arin then, who was practically vibrating with excitement next to him. His replies hadn’t given away much, but it was enough to tell her she’d be seeing her mother this weekend – and possibly skipping a day of school. He grinned at her and she clung to his arm.

“Can I say bye to mom?”

“In a minute, Arin,” he chuckled, amused by her eagerness. “We’re not done yet.” His next sentence was directed at Nana. “I’ll text you tomorrow morning and let you know what the principal said.”

For the first time in god knows how long there was no malice or sarcasm attached to her gratitude. “Thank you, Seokjin.”

He took it as a positive sign. Things were changing. They would change.

The next day he dropped Arin off at school himself. The plan had been to head to reception and ask if he could talk with Principal Jung in person, but after saying his goodbyes and watching Arin meet up with some friends in the playground he began to get second thoughts. What if he accidentally bumped into you? He was on pins even in the parking lot. He wanted to give you all the space necessary and the last thing you probably wanted to see was him walking towards you in the corridor. At work.

No, instead he drove to his office, phoning the principal as soon as he’d finished up his morning meeting. Hoseok – as he’d been told to call him – was completely understanding. Seokjin didn’t even have to whip out the sob story about Arin missing her mom dearly. Dirty tactics were always the last resort, and he could talk a good game, but thankfully his skill wasn’t needed today. Arin was all set to go this evening.

The drive wasn’t a long one thankfully, just under an hour as Nana lived in the neighbouring city. This wasn’t the first time he’d been to Nana’s penthouse, the place she’d bought after they’d sold their family home, but the last time had been pretty explosive. Not nearly as bad as last weekend, but close. Arin had thankfully been waiting in the car for him that time, as he and her mother argued over where she should live permanently.

Seokjin stood beside Arin in the elevator, feeling nervous for the conversation he wanted to have. He was never above apologising when he was in the wrong, but with his ex-wife saying sorry had never come easily. It was childish and he knew he needed to change, so today was the perfect test. If he wanted a clean slate he had to be as honest as possible.

“Mommyyy,” Arin squealed as she opened the door to greet them, barrelling into her practically.

Seokjin stood back as they hugged, a soft smile on his face.

“Arin, I missed you,” Nana informed her, breaking away to take her bag. As she did so, she glanced at Seokjin, then back at their daughter. “Listen, darling, go to your room for a little while so I can speak to daddy.”

Seokjin felt a little relieved. At least they were on the same page – potentially.

Arin though, was unsure, looking between her parents as she spoke. “I don’t want to. What if you argue again?”

He felt his heart break at her words. “We won’t, sweetie,” he reassured, bending down to look her in the eyes. “I promise.”

She still looked dubious, but then Nana took over, her voice light and breezy. “We won’t be long, okay? Think about what pizza you want to order for dinner.”

Arin’s eyes lit up at that request and Seokjin couldn’t help but chuckle. That pizza obsession of hers was getting dangerous. “Okay,” she agreed easily, waving to him before she skipped off to the furthest part of the apartment.

Seokjin watched her leave before rising up again, tugging down the ends of his jacket. Nana was looking at him, an unreadable expression on her face, but he knew it wasn’t anger she was feeling, so that was a plus. He thought back to Sunday, how mad they had both been, how upset Nana had looked as she’d rushed off. The guilt came back.

He exhaled. He might as well just bite the bullet. “I’m sorry for calling you a terrible mother. I didn’t mean it.”

Nana stayed silent but her arms wrapped around herself. It was such a vulnerable action, it took him by surprise.

He continued. “I was just frustrated. I let things build up and exploded.”

She stared him straight in the eyes, shoulders sagging a little but her voice was strong. “You know I love our daughter half to death.”

“I do,” he agreed. “I don’t doubt that.”

She look relieved. It made him feel oddly sad. He had never wanted to make her doubt herself as a mother. He was a piece of shit.

Still, she needed to understand some things. His point of view and where he was coming from. His frustrations weren’t all for nothing. They were valid. “But you have to understand I’m the one who has to pick up the pieces when you end up cancelling on her. It takes its toll.”

Nana’s gaze flickered to the floor as she whispered. “I’m trying to be better.” Then she looked up again, her voice stronger. “I’m trying to free my weekends up. I’m trying not to do as much. I thought maybe I could even have her for an evening every weekday? I could pick her up from school, take her out for dinner. I know it’s a distance but maybe I could get every Wednesday afternoon away from work... Hopefully.”

Seokjin was impressed. Nana lived and breathed work so to hear she was thinking about possibly taking an afternoon away every week was… It made him very happy. “She’d love that,” he grinned genuinely. “She misses you a lot.”

Nana couldn’t help but smile too. “I miss her always.” With a slight chuckle she continued, “This apartment is so quiet without her.”

Seokjin looked down at his feet and grimaced slightly. He knew that feeling all too well. Living without Arin had been close to torture after the divorce. Everything felt so silent, the house gigantic and lonely. He hated the thought of Nana feeling the same way. “You can see her any time, Nana,” he murmured. “I’ll never try to stop you.”

Despite everything, their grievances toward one another, they had and would always co-parent well. Arin was their number one priority and she needed both parents in her life.

“I know that,” Nana nodded, “and I’d never try to take her from you.”

It didn’t bear to think about, but he had to admit, sometimes it was easy for irrational thoughts to creep in when someone was left feeling insecure.

“She loves living with you. She’s really settled at her new school, she never stops talking about her friends.” Nana continued, making small talk of sorts. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d done this. “She’s the happiest I’ve ever seen her.”

Seokjin nodded in agreement. She loved her new school, her new friends – her new life, you could say. That was easy to see.

Nana cleared her throat, dropping her arms to her sides. “I apologise too. I was out of line turning up at your door like that. I was just so mad... so hurt.” She took a few seconds. “I wish you’d just told me.”

“I should have.” She was absolutely right. “I see that now and I regret it. It was wrong of me to keep my new relationship from you. I wasn’t doing it to be vindictive. I just...” he stopped himself. Even though they weren’t excuses, they felt like they were. His reasons didn’t matter.

“You should have been the first to know because of Arin. If I was in your shoes, if it was the other way around, I would have been angry too.” He stopped and sighed at his stupidity. “I never meant to hurt you, neither did Y/N. She actually had no clue you didn’t know until that day.”

Nana’s eyes widened with shock, before she looked regretful. “Yeah, that one makes me feel even guiltier. I shouldn’t have spoken to her the way I did. It was a shock to hear Arin speaking about a stranger like that. A stranger I had no clue existed.”

Seokjin appreciated her apology, but he needed to make sure she understood something. “Yeah, about that, Arin really has never called Y/N her stepmom. We’ve only been together for a few months. I spoke to her about it and Arin understands that’s not the case. It was just kids being kids.”

Nana nodded. “I shouldn’t have flown off the handle, and I should have listened to your explanation the first time around.”

He held her gaze. “I’m not trying to replace you, Nana.”

If that’s what she was worried about, it wasn’t the case. He had never meant to compare the two women and he regretted it deeply.

Nana’s lips quirked up at the side, her voice relaxed and at ease. “But eventually Arin will call her that.”

His eyebrows shot up, understanding what she was getting at. “I don’t know,” he shook his head. His relationship with you was up in the air right now. He’d made one too many mistakes.

Nana brushed him off with sway of her hand. “I guess I’ll learn to deal with it when the time comes.”

He admitted defeat. “And I’ll have to do the same.”

It was inevitable really. One day Arin would probably have two blended families and while he really wanted his to be with you, he didn’t want to get his hopes up right now.

Nana snorted. “Fat chance of that happening. I don’t have time to fall in love again.”

He stayed silent, unsure what to say. He’d thought the same once upon a time. Until you walked straight into his life. (Or, more fittingly, until he’d reversed straight into yours.) Everyone deserved love in their life and he hoped that one day his ex-wife would find it again.

She was looking over at him sadly now, eyes softening, and it was almost jarring to see her show this much emotion in front of him. “I did love you, you know,” she murmured before laughing quietly at herself. “I felt like I never told you enough, but in the beginning it was good, right?”

“It was.” Seokjin hated getting nostalgic, in fact, he actively avoided it, but in this moment he let himself go. Ten years ago, he and Nana had fallen hard for one another. It was fast and exhilarating but – “We just…”

“Rushed into things that weren’t meant to be?” She finished for him.

He’d been so eager to marry before he was thirty, to follow in his parents’ footsteps. He wanted, no, needed, to become CEO. He needed to build something he could be proud of, and having a family fit into that logic. He’d had tunnel vision, but it wasn’t all bad.

“I can’t regret it though,” he told Nana softly, “because we made Arin.”

“At least we agree on one thing,” she chuckled.

“Yeah,” he smiled.

It was strange speaking like this with one another. He couldn’t even think of the last time something similar had happened. They were always too busy at one another’s throats, not listening to what the other had to say. Now all that fight had gone. They were both exhausted from years of bitterness. Years of fighting.

He didn’t want to fight anymore.

Nana seemed to think the same.

“I’m ashamed she had to hear us fight like that,” she said. “I apologised on the phone but…”

“She’s okay.” He reassured. “I think she still thinks it’s her fault a little though. I’ve tried telling her it wasn’t repeatedly.”

“I’ll talk to her over dinner.”

“Good idea.”

There was a pregnant pause before Nana chuckled. “This is the first time we’ve spoken so civilly in a long time.” She hesitated, wanting to say something else. He waited patiently, curious. “Maybe we should think about talking it out with a professional?”

He raised his eyebrows. It wasn’t a bad idea actually, but then… thing seemed to be working out well on their own right now. “Maybe we should see how things go first? Now that we know how one another feels.” They weren’t out of the dark yet, but it was looking hopeful. “But if you think it will help then I won’t refuse,” he added, wanting to show how seriously he was taking this.

She smiled slightly. “Okay, we’ll see how things go.”

It seemed like the conversation had run its course then, and Seokjin shuffled, about to suggest he head out now, but Nana spoke again. “Are you okay?” She asked. “No offence, but you look like shit.”

He laughed, actually laughed, at her words. He could always count on her to be honest with him. “I haven’t been sleeping very well,” he admitted, “but talking with you definitely helped.”

She eyed him doubtfully. “I hope I haven’t ruined things with you and Y/N. I can talk with her if you want?”

“No, it’s fine,” he shook his hand.

She looked down, feeling foolish. “I guess I did enough damage.”

He chuckled. “No, pretty sure I did that all on my own.”

Looking up, her mouth opened, as if she was about to ask him what he meant but stopped herself at the last second. She wasn’t there yet, and neither was he.

He took a step back. “I should go.”

Nana went to follow him to the door. “I’ll have her back by Sunday. Do you want to say goodbye?” She saw his nod and called for their daughter, her voice echoing off the walls. “Arin? Arin, darling, come here and say bye to your dad.”

A few seconds later he heard Arin’s footsteps getting closer, she hovered by the entryway, looking worried for a second, as if she was expecting the worst but then she saw her parents smiling faces and relaxed instantly.

“I’ll see you Sunday, okay?” Seokjin told her as she made her way towards him. He reached to pick her up, something she scolded him over sometimes because it was “embarrassing” now. She was getting older, he kept forgetting, because to him she would always be his little girl. This time however, she let him do so, wrapping her arms around his neck as she kissed his cheek.

“Okay, bye daddy. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” he grinned, kissing her back before he put her down.

Nana watched on with a grin of her own.

Being home alone was odd. Seokjin couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on his own. In the week Misook was here to help out with Arin and the housework, then every other weekend she often dropped in when he needed her. When the house wasn’t occupied by his daughter or Misook, you were here with him, so it had been quite a while since it was just him. It reminded him of the past, when he’d lived here all alone. He never wanted to go back to that.

He was happy to see Friday roll around. It felt like he’d been waiting all his life. Just one more day and he’d get to speak to you. The lack of communication was killing him. Ever since you’d began dating you’d spoken every day. It felt strange to be without that, like he was missing a part of himself. He’d been able to distract himself with work throughout the week, but no amount of distractions could really stop him from thinking about you. Stop him from missing you. Because he did. Terribly.

The photo on his desk didn’t help matters either – the two of you smiling together on the fishing trip he’d organised over the summer – but like hell was he hiding it away in a drawer.

It was probably best that Arin was with Nana this weekend. It gave you both some time to talk and sort things out – hopefully. He was praying so hard that everything would be okay, but he was getting ready to fight for you. Just in case. Of course he would listen to what you had to say, and respect it too, but if it happened to be bad news he would try his best to make you see how sorry he was and how hard he was trying to change. He couldn’t lose you. Not when he loved you so much.

You made him want to be a better man.

He got home pretty late from the office, staying just to avoid an empty house and after having a quick shower and ordering takeout, he decided on an early night. This week had been mentally and emotionally draining so it was probably for the best. Plus the sooner he slept the sooner tomorrow would come.

He’d just stepped out of the bathroom when he heard his phone ring in his sweatpants pocket. He pulled the device out automatically, expecting it to be Namjoon, because who else would be calling at this time? But to his surprise and utter amazement, he saw your name flashing across his screen.

His heart began to pound embarrassingly loud and he rushed to answer, sounding a little breathless as he murmured your name.

“Hey, you,” your replied, and he swore he could hear the smile in your voice. His shoulders instantly released the tension he hadn’t realised they’d been holding.

“I wasn’t expecting you to call tonight.” He heard himself say, cursing himself because it sounded so dumb. He was over the moon you’d decided to call. Of course he was.

“Sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Of course not,” he rushed. “Well,” he laughed, “I was just about to head to bed.”

You laughed along softly, the sound making his heart sing. “I was going to wait until tomorrow but Soojung is with Taehyung tonight and being alone means I can’t stop thinking about you.”

He couldn’t stop the sigh of relief that slipped past his lips. It was so good to hear you say that. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all week. Are you ready to talk? I’m willing to answer any questions you have.” He meant every word.

“I’m ready,” you replied. “Should I come over? I don’t want to do this over the phone.”

“I can come to you?” He suggested instead, not wanting you to go out of your way for him. “Arin’s with Nana until Sunday.”

“Oh. Okay. Now?”

“It’s not too late?”

“No, it’s fine.” You sounded a little eager and that just made even more relieved. He’d been expecting the worst all along. “I really want to see you.”

He smiled, happiness overwhelming him. “I’ll be there soon, okay? Really soon.” As he spoke he made his way into the closet, opening up his drawers to find a clean t-shirt.

“Don’t speed,” you told him jokingly.

“Of course I won’t,” he laughed. “I’m going to hang up now but I won’t be long.”

“Okay, see you soon, Seokjin.”

He couldn’t stop the grin on his face as he said his final goodbye, his heart racing with excitement as he tore off his old shirt to put the new one on. It was a little creased, but it would do. He didn’t have time to find anything else.

He needed to see you.

He needed to be with you.

#seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #jin fanfic #fic:mls #mls:drabbles #floralseokjin:writings

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docockbrainrot · 3 years

Text

i think i want you (to leave)

Summary: We’re all running from something. Sometimes, metaphorically. Sometimes, literally. Literally running, from the very strangely hypnotizing supervillain that seems hellbent on ruining every bit of your life he can get all eight of his limbs on.

Pairing: Doc Ock X Reader/ Otto Octavius X Reader

Content: Slow Burn, NSFW eventually, 18+

AO3 link here.

Previous Chapter

Chapter 5

anathema// former vandal

The next several days are an uneventful blur. You barely leave your apartment, except for brief dog walks and grabbing food from the bodega across the street.

It’s 9 pm on Saturday and you’re fresh out of the shower, tucked away in a very fuzzy robe, lounging on the couch and watching YouTube on your television. You almost miss the subtle taptaptaptap sound coming from your window, you're so engrossed in the cooking show you’ve been binging. Gotta fill the void somehow, right?

You can’t see anything outside from where you’re sitting. The lights are on and make it impossible to peer through the reflections on the glass. Maybe it’s a bird. Or a branch is caught on the fire escape. Either way, you certainly can’t be assed to check it out and you take another sip of your chamomile tea- you’ve been trying everything under the sun, just about short of literally snorting lines of melatonin, to try to sleep better at night. Nothing’s been working. But you have been making a very valiant effort.

A few moments go by and you forget all about the window disturbance until,

TAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAP.

It’s jarring. It’s loud. Above all else, it’s annoying. Chekov spares you a look, like you’re the one making a racket. Effectively exasperated, you make an effort to set, not slam, down your mug, feeling decidedly not Calm and Relaxed as the tea promised. Suppose it’s not miracle shit though, is it? You would not be a good candidate for a horror movie because you fearlessly storm over to the window and throw it open (it wasn’t locked in the first place; you’re quite terrible at remembering to). You stick your head out and glower at whatever irritating mischief is happening out here, ready to rip the fire escape off the side of the brick building.

You’re greeted by something cold and hard (and indubiously metal, judging by how it felt against your sternum) shoving you back into your apartment, sending you sprawling unceremoniously to the hardwood floor. A string of profanities ready to leave your tongue, you sit up and adjust your robe in an attempt to preserve a modicum of your modesty. The rant dies in your throat as red eyed claws grip the threshold of your pre-war window and it’s almost comical the way He maneuvers himself in, far too large to be making these sorts of entrances. Standing up to his full height before you while you’re still sitting dumbfounded on the floor reminds you of just how impressively built he is. You manage to pick your jaw up, but your ass remains firmly planted on the wood.

“Uh… you could have just used the buzzer, dude. I have a front door, you know,” you sputter out, brain blitzing in pretty much every way possible. Your thoughts are racing and eventually they settle on the most important thing you can think to ask in that moment: “... Why aren’t you wearing a shirt.” You can't help the way your eyes are drawn to his broad chest, gaze lingering on the vast scarring that spills out from the metal contraption clamped around his midsection.

Otto very graciously closes the window behind himself. Or at least his little robot accomplices do it for him. You still aren’t sure what’s going on with that- the whole AI thing. Not even a blip on your radar of concerns at this point. “Didn’t want anyone to see me come in. Your building has a camera on the front, facing the street.”

“That’s why you’re shirtless?” You ask dumbly. Interesting method of camouflage. “What? No- what? It doesn’t matter- listen to me. I need you to do something for me. A small favor.”

He doesn’t seem to notice the compromised position he put you in. Typical. Gathering up your broken pride, you get up and tighten the tie of your robe a bit. It isn’t until then that he has the decency to look a smidge embarrassed and you hope you didn't just give him a free show on your way to getting to your feet. “You literally just broke into my apartment and now you’re asking for a favor? We barely know each other!”

“Less complicated when there's nothing personal involved yet, plus- you let me in,” he corrects you. You wish he would stop doing that. You wish he would stop meeting with you like this, under weird and mysterious circumstances. Even though it's only been like twice. You're already over it.

“You threw me across the room!”

“Touche.”

Otto does not apologize and you did not sincerely expect him to. The look on his face reads more like the cat that got the canary than regretful. You feel as though you’ve come to recognize that expression on his face and you also feel as though you don’t much like the fact that you’ve enough encounters with this man that you can recognize a damn thing about him. “What… could you possibly need me to do for you? I am not robbing a bank.” You just want to get that out into the open as soon as possible.

“I don’t need your help robbing a bank,” he snorts as if the idea is preposterous and you take a moment to feel insulted. Wow. Okay. You could totally rob a bank if you wanted to. Deciding to not comment on your wounded ego, you let him get to the point. Otto pulls something out of his inner coat pocket. It's some kind of rolled up paper and you think at first maybe it's a newspaper or magazine. He unfurls it onto the coffee table and holds it open with two metal claws on either side so it doesn't ravel itself back up.

You realize it's a blueprint. "This is… Oscorp," you point out stupidly, brow furrowing in confusion. There's levels to what's happening here. Layers upon layers, melding together with rot and decay and you can all but smell it. But there's something missing, something that would tie all of the wackjob shit that's been happening to you and around you together. It feels like when you have a very particular thought and then walking into another room makes it dissolve from your head. You're trying to grasp for it, to fit the puzzle pieces together, but it's just out of reach.

"Yes. It is. I have a small task I need you to do," Otto starts off, metal phalanges pushing his glasses up onto the top of his head as he looks over at you. For the first time, you can see his eyes in the light. The warm amber feels like a mockery- you have seen his cruelty in action.

"Where did you get this?"

"Does it matter?" Of course he'd say that.

Your fingertips brush against the metaphorical wayward chain link. It's right there. You just have to grab it and pull it back to you, like the anchor of a ship before it can set sail.

He's talking. You aren't listening. He's tracing a finger over the schematics. You don't see it. Realization washes over you in a heart-dropping tsunami. The voicemail you got from Oscorp plays like a broken record in your mind. 'Hello, Y/N. We're calling in regards to your employment status here at Oscorp. Unfortunately, due to a breach of security, we are having to make staffing cuts and are going to have to let you go. We appreciate your time and effort and wish you the best of luck in your next endeavor.' It didn't make sense at the time. A lot of things didn't. You replay the scene of poor David, desperately pleading for his life at the hands of the man hunched over here, just in your living room. You mentally re-run it over and over like bad 80s sitcoms on late night television.

"Lab Coat Guy…"

You don't realize you whispered it out loud until Otto goes silent.

"What?"

You slowly look at him and take a single step backwards, shaking your head. The company embroidered on David's lab coat hadn't been clear to you in the moment- but it's crystal in hindsight. Oscorp. "You got me fired." Your tone is flat, until anger flashes through you, like a streak of lightning through a dark, moonless sky, illuminating all of things that didn’t make sense before.

"It doesn't matter. What I need you to do-" He's so nonchalant, so blasé that it only stokes the embers of frustration until there's a roaring blaze burning beneath your skin. It's all about him, what he needs, what he wants. He has the nerve, the audacity, to keep traipsing into your life, kicking you while you're down and then ask for favors? You want to say all of that to him but unfortunately for you, you're an angry crier. Your outburst of bravery at him the last time you saw each other had surprised even you- but now there's so much more emotion roiling around inside you.

"No. No, no. Fuck you. You got me fired! I can't- I can't not have a job, I have to pay rent! You could get me arrested for just talking to you!" Oscorp had you canned to tie up any potential loose ends before anymore Davids could slip through the cracks. You think about how scared the poor dude must have been, threatened into stealing blueprints from the biggest corporation in the city, for one of the most infamous criminals. You don't know how they found out you were even remotely involved and you don't want to know.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks and once the floodgates have opened you're very familiar with how long it's going to take to close them again. After all you've been bottling this up since you found out, too disappointed to even tell any of your friends or family.

Otto appears taken aback, to say the least. He even looks like he's at a loss for words; that's a first. You know he could kill you where you stand in the blink of an eye, but in that moment you don’t even care. You’ve been trying so hard for so long to get on your feet, to do things for yourself and get away from the past. You moved across the country, you left everything behind, you got a damn dog. It seems like every time you manage to take a step forward in life, you’re knocked flat on your ass, apparently literally sometimes. It isn’t fair. Things don’t come easily to you, you’ve always had to work for them. You aren’t wealthy, you aren’t a supergenius, you’re just… you. The job at Oscorp was good money and you really felt like you were getting your shit together for a while.

“They’re not who you think they are,” he says finally, so calmly, with such carefulness about his words, that you sniffle pathetically and look up at him. He doesn’t look nearly as pleased with himself as you thought he might. And here you’ve been, under the impression that he gets off on hurting people. “Oscorp. I’m not… I’m not just doing this for me. You have to understand that.”

The schematics are furled up and tucked away. You make the mistake of meeting his eyes. Maybe it’s just the tears that blur your vision, but you swear you see a softness there before they’re hidden away again by his glasses.

He lingers at the window.

“I hope you’ll reconsider.” And then he was making his exit, even taking care to gently close the window on the way out. But he raps on the glass with his knuckles from where he stands on the fire escape and you know the look of confusion on your tear-streaked face speaks for itself. Otto points to the latches on the window. ‘Lock it.’ He mouths before he’s gone, presumably to wreak havoc and harass other unsuspecting young women that don’t want anything to do with him.

You thought everything had come together- but the more sense you make of it, the less you seem sure of the bigger picture. You aren't even sure exactly what he wanted you to do.

You’re left with an endless bounty of questions, and not enough answers to satisfy any of them.

#otto octavius x reader #doc ock x reader #fanfiction #otto octavius #doc ock

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hermannsthumb · 3 years

Note

you should totally do something with ksci janitor’s vamp newt it’s so just so good

i sure will! in a vampire mood this weekend. @k-sci-janitor's vampire newt found here. warnings for quick mention of drinking, allusions to sexy stuff, and also the different kind of drinking you'd expect from a vampire fic (tho on the vague side)

-------------------

The circumstances that led Newt down the unwitting path of immortality and general un-dead-ness are, in hindsight, honestly kind of embarrassing. It'd be one thing if he could say it happened in the pursuit of, like, knowledge, like the fierce jellyfish sting scar on his wrist leftover from a research expedition when he was twenty-two or the equally fierce one on his knee received in response to his question (at the age of five) of what would happen if I jumped out of this very tall tree?, or even something unrelated to his extensive biology career, something impressive, y'know, Van Helsing style, something like tracking down some vampire king and barely escaping with his life (un-life?)—not what really happened, which was little more than a bad date. And not even the worst date that Newt's been on, if you can believe it.

Newt was young and stupid then. He still is young and stupid, technically, though the former by appearance only. (Eternally pushing thirty. If he could've picked, he would've done twenty-eight, just before his handful of grey hairs started cropping up. Newt's had almost forty-five years of staring in the mirror at those four fucking grey hairs. He gave up dyeing them around the nineties. Not worth it. Still annoying.) He liked to do what young and stupid people did, like get stupid tattoos, and have a stupid haircut, and get drunk at stupid punk shows and not stumble home until he'd had at least one regrettable hook-up with a stranger and maybe lost his wallet. (The two were often related.) That particular thing was what did him in that night. It was a different time back then, man—if a dude showed even the slightest inkling that he ran in Newt's sort of circle, if you caught his drift, Newt fucking jumped at the chance.

(The band was on their second set of the evening and Newt had already screamed himself hoarse with singing along. He'd ducked outside in a back alleyway for only a second to get some fresh air, the club suddenly too hot and smokey for him to handle, and was just about to go back inside and close out his tab for the night when he realized he wasn't alone. There was someone—he was sure—lurking in the shadows a few feet away. He could hear breathing. He could see—eyes, maybe, in the dim neon light of the bar sign overhead. "Hello?" he'd called.

"Have a light?" the person called back.

They emerged from the shadows, and Newt felt himself relax at once. It was some spooky-looking guy he remembered seeing in the club, leather jacket, boots heavier than Newt's, dark hair and eyeliner. Tall. Newt remembered him, firstly, because he thought he was hot, and secondly, because he swore he caught the guy staring at him at least three times, and to Newt, that was as good as any pick-up line. He was wagging an unlit cigarette at Newt now. He was taller than Newt thought he was back in the bar—much taller, at least a full head on Newt. His eyes were a golden-brown, almost yellow, like a cat's, and Newt found himself unable to tear his own away from them. "L—light?" Newt echoed.

The guy stuck the cigarette in his mouth and arched a perfect eyebrow. Newt didn't smoke, but he did keep a lighter on him for occasions like this. He fumbled through his pockets for it while the guy stepped closer. "I was watching you," he told Newt, while Newt raised the lighter to the cigarette, "in there."

The flame danced and glinted against his eyes. Newt swallowed. "Uh-huh?" he said.

He flicked the lighter shut, leaving them both bathed in nothing but pink neon. A hand slid up against the wall next to Newt's right shoulder. Another plucked at the left lapel of his jacket. Newt was still staring at those eyes. "What's your name?" the guy said, in a puff of cigarette smoke.

"Um." Newt's leather jacket was being pushed off his shoulders. He felt his long hair being tucked to the side of his neck. All at once something seemed in snap in Newt—some reminder of where he was, and what he came here hoping for in the first place. Some hot dude was eyeing Newt up all night long, and now he was actually coming onto Newt, and Newt was about to get laid. He grinned. "Newt," he said. "Just call me that. You were watching me, huh?"

"All night," the guy said.

Newt's jacket hit the ground with a soft thump. A knee was being pushed between his. Newt felt his cheeks heat up a little—he wasn't used to people being this forward with him, and especially not in a semi-public place like this. Usually they at least made a show of offering up their apartment first. "What, um, what for?" he said.

They were kissing. Newt was clinging to the back of his jacket. And then he was kissing Newt's neck, and then he was—

"That kinda hurts," Newt mumbled. "Um, dude, I think your—your fuckin', tongue piercing cut me, or something. It's—"

It was hard to keep his eyes open. His neck felt weird. The guy was into biting, apparently, biting really hard, and yikes, that was going to leave a super embarrassing hickey that Newt would have to explain to his students somehow on Monday, but it also felt really good, like, Newt was maybe getting off kinda good, and Newt thought, dizzily, that he should at least return the favor before he finished up and collapsed in a happy heap on the ground. So he did.

The guy pulled back with a hiss. "Ow. What—?"

Newt tasted something coppery in his mouth, and he panicked and swallowed on instinct. "Oh, shit, dude, I'm sorry," he slurred. His voice sounded like it was a million miles away. "I was trying to be—sexy. Um." There was blood on the guy's chin. He was staring at Newt in something akin to horror. Dark circles were spotting Newt's vision. "I think you cut your lip," he said, and then he passed out.

Newt was alone when he woke up. It was still dark, too. He walked the two miles home, collapsing in bed, fully-clothed, just before dawn, and he didn't wake up again until sunset. He forgot his jacket, but at least he remembered his wallet this time.)

So, anyway, Newt thinks he can be forgiven if he...embellishes stuff a little when, for the first time in his whole long life, he finally spills the details to someone. Also, no way is he admitting the truth to Hermann of all people.

"There were a bunch of murders in the area at the time," he says, while Hermann, angled on his side next to him in bed, watches him raptly. It's kind of weird pillow talk, but their pillow talk rarely isn't weird. Usually Hermann will launch into a critique of Newt's latest pet theory before Newt's even caught his breath. At least he very courteously waited for Newt get a glass of water from the bathroom first this time. "Really brutal ones. Like, throats torn out, blood drained. Really nasty shit. Everyone was saying they were some kinda bizarre wolf pack attacks, but I knew better."

"Of course you did," Hermann says, running his hand down Newt's chest, and Newt can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not. (He has a feeling he is.)

"You bet," Newt says. "It took me months of, um, super hard research. Finally I hunted him down to this—" Newt debates the coolest lair possible of a vampire, and then remembers Lost Boys, which, even though he resents it slightly for totally stealing the vampire vibes he was going for, is still a kick-ass movie. "—this weird cave, where he lived. The king of the vampires. I won, obviously, but he fought back, and he managed to infect me just before I hammered the, um, the wooden stake into his heart."

"So courageous," Hermann says. He reaches up and tucks a piece of Newt's long hair back. Hermann being totally cool with the whole vampire thing, and maybe even possibly into the whole vampire thing, is probably the last thing in the world Newt expected from him. They're no strangers to hooking up during long late nights of science, but Newt swears it's gotten more frequent. "You must've been terrified."

"Nah," Newt says, though he remembers the glint of the flame off those yellow eyes, and he shivers. Hermann notices; his eyes, not yellow, but a warm shade of brown that makes Newt feel like he's being wrapped in a blanket, soften. If Newt could still blush, he would. "I'm—um—I'm pretty brave."

Newt hadn't exactly been planning on telling Hermann about the whole thing, but (last week) he had the very unfortunate timing of beginning a late-night dinner just as an oblivious Hermann strolled back into the lab to pick up his forgotten pair of glasses. To his credit, he only freaked out a little when he saw Newt draining a blood bag like a fucking Capri-Sun, and even then (after what felt like ten years of horrible, horrible silence) all he said was "You're the one who's been stealing those from medical?"

Look. Newt hasn't drank from a human being the entirety of his un-life, and he doesn't plan on it any time soon. He's...a vegetarian. Effectively. It's sort of the reason he picked up a medical degree along the way once he got tired of breaking into blood banks. Even if it's still a little ethically dubious to steal blood like that, at least he's not swooping around on unsuspecting people like that—goth asshole who swooped in on him did. (Newt's never managed to find out who he was—he suspects he was some sort of vampire drifter in town that night just to find a victim. And Newt just had to think with his dick at the worst possible time.)

Hermann tucks another strand of Newt's hair back. Newt also did not expect how fast Hermann became cool with the whole thing, but on the other hand, giant aliens are clawing their way out of the ocean on a bi-monthly basis these days. It's hard to be skeptical about most things. ("Well, it does make logical sense," Hermann had said with an eyeroll. "When you consider some of your rather more bizarre quirks, I mean. I ought to have guessed it ages ago. I suppose that's why you have that awful haircut," and that stung, because yeah, Newt hasn't felt like changing it up since the seventies, and why should he, it kinda rules? but he just laughed it off and said, "You're one to fucking talk, dude!") "Newton," Hermann says now, gently, "what actually happened?"

Newt sighs. Hermann always knows when he's lying about shit. "I was making out with a vampire in an alleyway and then he bit me. And—um—I kinda didn't notice at first, 'cause it felt... good."

"Mm," Hermann says. The corner of his mouth twitches up. "That's more along the lines of what I expected. That, or you were hounding him for details like a proper biologist and he got tired of answering your inane questions."

"Very funny," Newt says. "Ha."

Hermann rolls away from him and stretches his arms above his head. Newt watches his throat work as he yawns, swallowing down a sudden lump in his own, and he feels a surge of something hot and—alien—in the pit of his stomach. "Over forty years," Hermann says. He picks up Newt's discarded sweatshirt from the floor and tugs it down over his head. "You must get terrifically lonely."

Newt half-shrugs. "I guess. I'm kinda used to it by now." His dad (who never brought up how Newt's aging seemed to be at a standstill when they saw each other, not once) is long-gone. Newt's tried dating, but no one's ever seemed to be into it as much as he is—and besides, it's not like he could ever do the actual til death do us part thing unless he went against every ethical bone in his body and made someone like him. When the internet became a thing, he considered making a forum or something to find more of his kind, but the thought everyone just being like the guy who accidentally turned him in the first place terrified him and he killed the page before it even left infancy. So, without any better ideas, Newt forged some paperwork and leaned pretty hard into the world of academia to fill up his sad little hole of a heart, resigned himself to casual flings with anyone who seemed interested, and it mostly worked. Mostly. And then the kaiju came along, and then so did... "You make it a little bit better," he confesses.

Hermann lays back down next to him. "I do?" he says.

Newt thinks he sees something like that hot, hungry feeling he felt in his stomach flash behind Hermann's eyes. He nods.

Hermann suddenly kisses Newt, pulling him down on top of him, and then tugs the collar of Newt's stolen sweatshirt down below his collarbone. He drags Newt's hand up to press against his throat. Newt feels the erratic beat of Hermann's pulse beneath his fingertips, his heart pounding against his ribcage (pressed up against Newt's silent one), and he almost moans. "Have you ever...?" Hermann murmurs, gazing up at Newt through his dark eyelashes.

"N—never," Newt stammers. "I told you."

"Do you want to?" Hermann says. Newt tries not to gape. "Just a bit at a time, whenever you need. You wouldn't have to steal those silly blood bags anymore. And—" He hesitates. "I admit I am curious. About the sensation."

"Um," Newt says. "I—"

He feels something sharp poking his lower lip. Fangs. His fangs. Oh, shit, he's never had that happen before. He forces himself off of Hermann before he does something stupid.

"Maybe, um, maybe later?" he squeaks, while Hermann just smiles at him.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag

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roselarkiin · 3 years

Note

Brettsey + 2

So... this one didn't really turn out all that fluffy, but I hope it's okay!

#2 "The thought of losing you scares me."

In hindsight, running into a burning building without turnout gear or back up probably isn't the best idea she's ever had.

But she honestly doesn't see how she had any other choice.

Sylvie and Violet have just dropped their patient off at Med. Nothing crazy - a kid with an ulna fracture. A damn near routine call considering some of the things they see.

They're driving down 14th Street, on their way back to the firehouse, when they notice the smoke billowing out of the apartment building ahead of them.

Eyes fill with alarm as Sylvie slows the ambo to a stop. It's dark, and it's late, and there aren't any people around. Which in this situation is strange.

Sylvie can't make out the telltale sound of sirens approaching. There aren't any residents milling around the evacuation point either, like she would expect with a fire already this involved.

It's all so disconcerting.

Sylvie unbuckles her seatbelt, steps out of the ambulance, instructs Violet to radio main and find out which companies are on their way, see if they require sixty-one to stay on the scene.

She steps toward the building. The fire is at the other end of the complex, but the heat coming off the structure is almost unbearable.

There's smoke escaping from a few second story windows, and she can make out the flickering of orange flames from further inside the apartment.

Violet approaches at a jog, and Sylvie turns to face her partner expectantly.

"They weren't aware of a fire at this location," Violet says, the corners of her mouth turn down into a frown at the sight of the building. "They're assigning someone now."

Sylvie nods. Her brow creases, and she furrows her bottom lip into her mouth.

There's something really wrong with this scene. There should be alarms going off, alerting everyone to the danger.

She's seen her fair share of apartment fires in her time on the job, and it's usually chaos. All noise and people everywhere. This is the exact opposite. Eerily quiet with no one about.

These apartments aren't deserted. Surely someone should have made it out by now.

It could be another five, ten minutes before help arrives on the scene. She knows from experience just how much every second counts in a situation like this.

She can't just stand idly by, waiting for someone to arrive. She needs to get as many people out as she can.

"Violet," Sylvie starts and turns her head to look at her partner. "I'm not going to ask you to-"

As if she can sense what Sylvie is about to say, Violet cuts her off. "No way," she says, with an adamant shake of her head. "I'm not letting you go in there alone!"

There's a look of determination on the younger paramedic's face. One that tells Sylvie there's nothing she can say to change Violet's mind.

So she doesn't bother to try.

They enter the building, using their sleeves to cover their face as best they can.

Violet follows her orders, realizes they don't have time to argue, and goes down the hallway Sylvie tells her to. The one with less smoke. Away from the fire.

Sylvie might not be able to stop Violet from following her into the building, but she's damn well going to do everything in her power to keep her partner out of harm's way.

The hallways are dark and filled with smoke. Sylvie can barely make anything out or get her bearings.

She manages to find a door, bangs her fist against it until someone answers. It's easier after that.

Knock on the door until she wakes whoever's in the apartment, follow the wall along to the next door, and repeat.

Most can get themselves out of the building. The ones that can't, family members or neighbors are happy to escort them. It helps, means she can get to more people faster, without having to run up and down and out again and again.

By her estimation, she's able to clear about half the floor before she needs to get out. Before the cough and the ache in her chest becomes too much to bear.

She follows the last family down the stairs, meets up with Violet on her way out. They exit the building together and cough and sputter as they gasp for air.

She's hunched over, hands on her knees as she tries to catch her breath.

"Brett!" She recognizes the voice instantly, stiffens as Matt grabs her shoulders. Her eyes are closed. She can't see him, but she can hear the concern in his voice.

"I'm fine," she rasps, her voice hoarse. Tries to reassure him. She doesn't need to see him to know it hasn't worked. She coughs again.

She tries to brush him off. He should be running the initial search. Not here with her.

She's fine, really. Tries to tell him again, but she can't get the words out. Her throat burns.

An open water bottle is shoved into her hands. From Gallo, she thinks. He's an angel.

She takes a few mouthfuls, swishes the water around in her mouth, spits it onto the ground before gulping the rest of the water down. Another full bottle quickly replaces the empty one.

"Are you insane?" Matt shouts. The concern turns to anger. His hands on her shoulders tighten, shakes her a little. "What the hell were you thinking, Sylvie? Why would you do something so incredibly stupid? You could have got yourself killed!"

The relief she felt, having Matt there when she exited the building, is replaced with irritation. And she gets it. He's afraid. She scared him; she understands that. But there's no reason for him to be so patronizing.

She probably understands more about what he's feeling right now than he does.

Because the emotions he experiences in this moment are exactly what she goes through every time she stands on the sidelines while she watches him run headlong into a burning building.

Whatever he's feeling, though, she is not some child to be scolded, and she doesn't appreciate him yelling at her like she is.

She knows her limits. She would never push herself past what she knows herself to be capable of.

She's vaguely aware of the orders he barks to the other members of eighty-one, but he makes no move to leave her side.

In any other situation, she might find it sweet, but in any other situation, he'd be leading his team in the search. Not standing here with her.

His grip softens on her arm, moves to her back. It does nothing to comfort her. In fact, it just makes her feel worse. Like she's being suffocated. Though that might be the smoke inhalation.

Her eyes narrow at him, her lips pressed into a thin line. She's furious with him. For talking down to her the way he did, in front of their friends and colleagues. For treating her like she's some child he's been tasked to deal with and not his girlfriend. His equal.

It's embarrassing.

She doesn't yell back at him, as much as she may want to. She doesn't have the energy for that. Even if she did, she doesn't think her throat could handle it. And this is not the right place for this conversation.

Instead, she looks at him, head cocked slightly to the side, a small, sad smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You know, if this had been anyone else, you would not have spoken to them the way you just spoke to me," she says, with as much force as she can muster. It's not a lot, but it's surprisingly more than she thought possible at this moment. "You would have been singing their praises. Commending them for helping so many people, a job well done."

"Sylvie-"

"Go. There are still people inside. You have a job to do, Casey."

He looks confused for a split second before composing himself. She doesn't have a chance to dwell on it. She's pulled away to be looked at by the medics from ambulance ninety.

Suddenly, everything shifts back to the way it always is. Sylvie, at the ambo, watching Matt anxiously, as he runs into a burning building.

... ... ...

One of these days, Matt thinks, Sylvie Brett is going to be the death of him.

Maybe he'd lost it a little back at the scene. Spoke to her in a way that he shouldn't.

When they'd arrived and found sixty-one already on scene, he didn't think too much of it. It wasn't all that uncommon for the ambo to beat them to the scene, especially when coming straight from another call.

But when they exited the truck and neither Sylvie nor Violet were anywhere to be seen, a resident informed them the paramedics in question were inside, helping to evacuate everyone.

Sylvie was inside the burning building.

He'd just been about to run in after her when she exited the building, coughing and sputtering, covered head to toe in black soot.

All the blood rushed from his face, and his heart pounded in his chest so hard he felt it might explode.

He saw nothing but her, rushed straight to her, not entirely in control of his actions. He'd shouted at her, and he shouldn't have.

She'd looked at him with hurt in her eyes and calmly told him that if it had been anyone else, he wouldn't have spoken to them that way.

He thinks that look hurt more than if she had just yelled back. Because he knows she's right. Fucking, of course, she is. She's always been able to see right through him.

Seeing her standing there, covered in ash, terrified him. He could have lost her.

He'd flashed back to a time years ago, the only other time he's seen her like that. The Arnow fire. Where they'd lost Otis. Where he'd almost lost her. Had lost her, for a time, though only temporarily.

Then she was dragged away, and he had a job to do. He needed to focus. His people could get hurt if the task at hand didn't have his total concentration.

He thinks Sylvie's been avoiding him - he doesn't blame her because the next time he sees her, it's almost the end of shift. Eighty-one had two more calls after the apartment fire. Sixty-one had five.

Sylvie and Violet refused to take Sixty-one out of service. And he had to bite his tongue. As hard as it was.

They always just seemed to be passing each other. Never in the same place at the same time. As if some invisible force was working to keep them apart. It's killing him.

He finds her by their lockers. Her shoulders tense when she senses his presence. Imperceptible to anyone else. But not to him. Never to him.

He's explored and learned every inch of her body these last three months. Even the slightest change does not go unnoticed.

He steps further into the locker room. By some miracle, they're alone.

"I'm sorry," he says, quiet and all sincere. It never should have taken him this long to say the words. This is their first fight. If he can even call it that.

He'd been an ass. He knows he's going to have to grovel to make it right again.

He sees her shoulders shift, relax slightly as the tension ebbs away. Sylvie turns, leans against the open door of her locker to look at him. She gives him that same sad smile again. Not unlike the look she gave him last night. His chest aches.

"I'm sorry," she says as well, and she means it. From the way she says it, he knows she's not apologizing for running into a burning building. No, he gives her a soft smile, she'll never apologize for that. He doesn't expect her to either. Instead, she's apologizing for the scare she gave him.

He closes the distance between them, reaches out, and pulls her to him. She lets him, allows herself to melt into him. Her head rests against his shoulder, her arms wrap around his waist.

He's got one hand on her back, pulls her as close as physically possible. The other weaves into her hair, twists the blonde locks between his fingers.

They stand there, alone, not saying anything, holding each other tight. The rhythmic rise and fall of her chest against his as she breathes is a reminder that she's here and she's safe; nothing happened to her. It comforts him.

Sylvie is the first to break the silence. "I'm not going to lie to you and tell you it won't ever happen again," she murmurs against his chest.

He huffs, lets out a quiet chuckle, strokes his hand through her hair again. "I know."

Selfishly, he'd love for her to tell him that. But given the chance, he knows she wouldn't change anything that happened on the call. And if it came down to it, she'd do it all over again, without giving it a second thought.

He's watched her do this job for years. She's always given so much of herself over to the job. He's always admired that about her. He wouldn't want that to change just because of him.

"It's just," he breathes, lips pressed into her hair, "the thought of losing you scares me." His voice is rough, shakier than he intends it to be.

Sylvie leans back to look him in the eye. Moving her hand up his side to his face, she caresses his cheek. He leans into her hand, closes his eyes.

"I know," she tells him. "Because that's exactly how I feel every time I have to watch you run into a fire."

"Sylvie, that's-"

"Don't." She cuts him off with a sharp shake of her head. "Don't say it's different. It's not. At least it doesn't feel like it is."

He stops, clamps his mouth shut. He's been on the job for so long now that it's really just become routine at this point. Stupidly, he's never really thought about it from Sylvie's perspective. That she might feel the same terror he did.

He takes her face between his hands, kisses her forehead, cheeks, peppers kisses everywhere until she laughs and smiles back at him. Then he stops, looks around the locker room, checking they're still alone, and captures her lips with his.

He wouldn't normally do this, not so out in the open at least. They try to keep their relationship strictly professional while they're in the common areas of the firehouse. But after the shift they've just had, he doesn't give a shit who sees.

Sylvie smiles, breathes a contented sigh against his lips, relaxes further into him. She breaks the kiss a second later.

"You're a bit needy, you know that," she says, with a teasing lilt, tries to break the tension.

It works. He laughs. A loud, genuine belly laugh. The first in hours. He plants another kiss against her lips, pulls her back against him.

"Can you blame me?"

#brettsey #sylvie brett #matt casey #prompt fill #finally had the time and motivation to finish this #my inability to write a drabble is showing again!#tried something different with the style for this one #don't know if it worked or not 😬

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