#just sort of idly hoping i get actually run over every time i cross a street

[arrowntic]

safe & sound

corazon x reader

hello, this is my piece for @onepiece-reader-exchange for @gonuclear 🤗 hope you enjoy, im sorry this is so late ;-;

fandom: one piece

relationship: corazon/reader (she/her pronouns used for reader)

tags: canon typical violence, hurt/comfort, angst, happy ending

You hugged your knees to your chest and waited. The dungeon was cold, unbearably so and it didn’t fit the general temperatures of the country you were in at all. The guards had told you that you were much better off in the cold than outside during the heatwave Dressrosa was experiencing but you had a hard time believing that. After all, with barely a t-shirt and shorts you were constantly shivering.

The only solace were the times when the door opened and the light from the torches lighting up the corridor sneaked in but it was often short lived. It only happened whenever the toy guards entered to bring your food, but other than that you lived in total darkness between cold and hard walls.

Every once in a while he came in. The first thing you noticed about him was how much he loved to speak. He adored the sound of his own voice but it seemed like he enjoyed tormenting you even more. You didn’t know much time you spent imprisoned but it seemed to be weeks, if not months and every time he came in you lost more and more of your hope.

He spoke the most about Rosinante. He tried to tell you that he forgot about you and that he won’t be looking for you and that you should join his side now while he still has the patience to deal with you.

You never talk back to him.

You know his tricks, Rosinante has told you of them often and you were prepared but Doflamingo hated that you ignored him. When you didn’t reply he would clench his teeth hard and you could tell his patience was running thin.

Rosinante please hurry…

You thought quietly one night. You never lost your faith in him, you knew he would come for you. You just hoped it would not be too late whenever he shows up.

You were a trained marine and you were ready for any sort of situation, you felt ashamed for even ending up here in the first place but now that you did you’ll have to bear it until Rosinante showed up. You knew best how thorough marine procedures were and Rosinante had to get the green light from the higher ups before coming to save you. Last thing you wanted was to become a burden like this but now that it happened you had no choice but to wait and fix everything when the right moment came.

~~~

Rosinante sat on the ship railing. He was way too tall to actually perch on it though, and it was more like an awkward lean. However, it was the furthest thing from his mind as his fingers fiddled idly with a cigarette. For once, the nicotine was not enough to calm his nerves and he felt more guilty than he'd like to admit about how much he has been smoking in the past couple weeks.

He tried his best to quit, he really did but in a time like this it felt impossible.

"You're going to fall into the sea."

A gruff voice spoke from behind him and Rosinante only gave a nod of acknowledgement.

"As if it's the first time…"

Rosinante's voice lacked the usual humour in it and Law seemed to catch on.

He sighed and walked up to him. The pirate leaned his weapon on the railing next to Rosinante and crossed his arms over his chest.

"She's okay, you know?"

Without replying immediately, Rosinante pursed his lips and looked to the side.

"I know he didn't do anything to put her life in danger, he wouldn't have leverage over me if he did, but that doesn't mean she's okay." He paused. "You know how cruel he can be."

Rosinante sensed Law tensing up behind him. For a moment it was quiet as if the pirate was thinking deeply about the correct thing to say.

Fighting off a smile, Rosinante shook his head fondly. He knew Law had a hard time with stuff like this and he appreciated how much he tried to cheer him up.

"We can go over the plan again if you'd like."

Rosinante let out a soundless laugh, already feeling better now that his problem child was by his side. "Going over the plan" was something that would make Law feel better and not him but he appreciated it nonetheless.

"Sure, let's go over the plan."

It was a pretty complex plan and Rosinante was proud of Law for figuring everything out down to the last detail. He was even more grateful for being able to be a part of it.

It was not exactly marine protocol (when Akainu is going to find out, Rosinante will get his head melted off) but its so minutious and well thought out that Akainu will have to overlook the insubordination once Doflamingo is behind bars.

Although Rosinante still has to figure out how to explain allying himself with not one but two pirates belonging to the Worst Generation.

He will cross that bridge when he gets to it but now the important part was getting (Y/N) out.

Doflamingo is still not supposed to know he would show up so he's been laying low for a while but if everything goes well Rosinante would save (Y/N) by this time tomorrow.

His part of the plan was simple. Once Law fulfilled the exchange, he would find (Y/N) and break her out. The Straw Hats will finish up the rest while Rosinante calls for back-up. If everything went well, Doflamingo will be in marine custody by sundown.

Of course, a plan going well was a rare occurrence and he didn't expect for things to not go wrong, but as long as (Y/N) would safely return in his arms where she belonged he would call the mission a success.

With a racing mind he gestured Law towards the men's cabin on the Thousand Sunny. They both needed sleep if they wanted to pull it off. As unachievable a goal as that might be.

~~~

You heard the ruckus outside, but you weren’t sure what it meant. On one hand your gut feeling told you it was Rosinante who had come for you but everyone outside your cell whispered about Straw Hat Luffy who decided to take on Doflamingo in order to challenge Kaido.

You didn't understand why these youngsters wanted glory that badly but it may definitely turn out in your favour if you could find the right moment to break out.

Despite your sore limbs from unuse, you stood and made your way towards the small window in the corner of your cell. It was way too high up to easily reach but you have steadily prepared for this moment by dutifully learning every single day the right spots to clutch onto in order to climb up to the window.

The wall was definitely made so it couldn't be climbed but after trying again and again for weeks, you managed to do it. However, because of the steepness you could only linger for a few moments before you inevitably fell.

When you reached the top, you had to squint until your eyes got used to the light but even then you could not see much. You hoped you could hear some useful information.

Just as a group of Doflamingo's henchmen passed by you heard the leader's voice.

"Hurry up! Trafalgar Law is fighting the young master, we need to back him up."

"Right!"

Trafalgar Law… If he was here then Rosinante had to be as well. You knew all about their father-son relationship even if Rosinante kept it as a closely guarded secret. You knew how much they cared for each other. It would make sense for them to come fight their common enemy together.

You breathed a sigh of relief and jumped down from the window. As long as Rosinante was in this country you would have hope. You could stay in the cell for weeks again if it meant you would see him at the end.

~~~

Rosinante's lungs were burning from running and it was one of the only times he regretted his cigarettes. Law was right, as he usually tended to be, but Rosinante wouldn't listen to him and now he had to pay the price.

Nevertheless, he ignored the pain and pushed through. He was so close, just a few more turns in the twisted corridors and he would make it.

"Where is she… Come on…"

He kept running until he found himself at a crossroads. The underground tunnels were cold and dimly lit and making his way through them was a very difficult task. He should have grabbed a random guard for help but in his hurry, he forgot.

He cursed his scattered brain before a soft whistle made him stop in his tracks. It was a leisure tune and Rosinante pressed himself up against the wall to wait and see if the responsible person was going to show up.

Soon enough, a man dressed in Doflamingo's uniform stepped out from one of the tunnels as if it was a walk in the park rather than the dungeon where his master's prisoners were being kept.

Without hesitation, Rosinante lunged at him, grabbed his neck and pushed him against the wall.

"Where is (Y/N)?"

The man looked startled and he raised his arms in surrender.

"Who? What are you talking about?"

Rosinante slammed him against the wall.

"Don't play dumb with me. The marine that is imprisoned here. You know exactly who I'm talking about."

His voice had a threatening edge to it but the soldier wasn't moved. He just grinned.

Tightening his hold on him, Rosinante spoke. "Listen, I'm sure you know who I am. I bet you know I'm a marine as well and I bet you know your master's reign will end today. While your brothers are going to be arrested, I'm going to offer you a pardon. How does that sound?"

The man's expression changed and he looked as if he was contemplating the situation. In the end, he nodded and Rosinante let go of him.

"Fine. You better not tell anyone about this." He paused as if he was awaiting Rosinante's response and he nodded. "Go right here, then right again and at the second turn go left. It's the first door."

Without missing a beat, Rosinante grabbed the man's head and hit it against the wall. The soldier fell to the ground, unconscious. Rosinante rummaged through his clothes until he found the keys to the cells.

"I give you my thanks."

He had no intention of following through with his promise. Rosinante may not be as wicked as his brother but he had no problem being cunning when the situation called for it.

He began running again, only one thought on his mind. He was finally going to see her again.

In no time he reached the door and he saw the number 78 written in big letters. He tried to find the corresponding key but his hands were shaking so hard it was difficult. Eventually, after way too long he found it and fitted it in the lock.

"Rosi, is that you?"

A familiar voice spoke from behind the door and for the first time in weeks his heart settled and he felt relief wash all over him. She was alive. That's all that matters.

She was waiting for him. She knew he would come for her and he let her wait this long… No. Now is not the time.

Rosinante shook away the unwanted thoughts and finally managed to turn the key in the lock and pushed open the door.

On the other side stood (Y/N), teary eyed and looking so painfully tired. Rosinante clenched his teeth in anger at the sight but all of it melted away the moment she jumped into his arms.

"You're here…"

"I'm here now."

She sobbed into his shoulder and somehow he knew this was the first time she cried since she got here. All the weeks of fear and solitude built up and for the first time in so long she felt relief. The same as him.

"I'm sorry for taking so long," Rosinante whispered as he tightened his hold on her.

"You're here now," was the last thing she said before her eyes closed and she fell limp against him.

Rosinante sighed and patted her head softly, before getting to his feet and making his way out while carrying her in his arms.

~~~

When you woke up, it was silent. Way more silent than you were used to anyway.

There were no footsteps of the guards walking outside, and no hustle and bustle of the streets above and no constant dripping of the ceiling that almost drove you insane.

The only thing you could hear was the breathing and soft snoring of several people in the room with you. It almost reminded you of bootcamp and it was comforting if not for the…

If not for the loud snores right next to your ear. You gasped and jumped into a sitting position. You were so drowsy you didn't realise that you had no idea where you were.

You look to your left to see Straw Hat Luffy covered in bandages and sleeping in the same bed as you without a care in the world.

You looked around the room to see about half of the other Straw Hat Pirates, all sleeping and Trafalgar Law.

"Shh…"

Your gaze fell to the table where Rosinante was sitting with a smile and a finger above his lips. You relaxed considerably and let out a breath of relief.

"Come with me," he said and you furrowed your brows in confusion.

He stood up from the chair and motioned for you to follow. You carefully got up from the bed, trying not to wake the dangerous pirates around you and exited through the door.

You inhaled sharply at the sight in front of you. Stretching for what seemed to be like miles were thousands of sunflowers and somewhere in the distance the country of Dressrosa lay in ruin.

The morning sun was warm on your skin and the breeze was calming. You closed your eyes to enjoy the sensation. It was something you took for granted before you were imprisoned, but never again.

A warm arm wrapped around you and you opened your eyes to see Rosinante smiling at you.

You leaned into him and the two of you began walking between sunflowers.

"Thank you…" you whispered low enough for the wind to carry it away.

"No need to thank me." His voice was deep but so familiar it almost made you tear up again. "I'm here for you."

He stopped and turned towards you. "I'm sorry for not coming sooner."

You shook your head. You remembered him saying the same thing before you passed out and you decided to give the same response.

"You're here now." You smiled at him and it took you a second but you soon realised it was your first genuine smile in weeks. "That's all that matters."

Rosinante nodded. "I won't ever leave your side again."

"You better not." You laughed softly before an idea occurred to you. "Why don't we go on a vacation together? We've known each other since our training days but we never went on a holiday, did we? I say we deserve it."

"Hmm," he put a finger to his chin as if he was thinking deeply about it. "That's a great idea!"

You smiled and grabbed his hand. You began leading him through the sunflower field and he happily followed.

What was even more comforting about the situation was knowing that no matter what came between you two, in the end you and Rosinante would find each other again and you would be together like nothing changed.

In that moment, with the sun on your skin and the breeze blowing softly around you, for the first time in a long, long time you finally felt safe and sound with Rosinante by your side.

thank you for reading!!! i hope u enjoyed it and again, im sorry this was so late.

#one piece #corazon x reader #fic exchange #donquixote rosinante #one piece x reader

[deluluass]

hi

could yoy do please some yandere kuroo and kageyama headcanons? 💕

nsfw is welcomed 😊

My first headcanons 🤞🏽

Yandere! Kuroo Tetsuro

Content warnings: markers of a toxic/emotionally abusive relationship; dumbification; daddy kink; sex toy(s); mild public play/exhibitionism

😇SFW😇

This boy has a fascination for messy people.

And by "messy", I mean that Kuroo has a soft spot for those who put up some sort of front. A performative mask to hide their crumbling psyche.

Oh.

Those are his favorites. (Especially when they're not even aware that they’re hiding something.)

Maybe it's because they're so easy to manipulate? (Or perhaps it's a mild case of schadenfreude?)

It's the instigator in him.

He knows which buttons to push and at what time to exactly do it.

Kuroo lives for being that guy who causes a full blown fight by simply dropping a backhanded comment or two.

For being the final straw that eventually breaks the proverbial camel's back.

And then slipping back into the shadows to watch the Drama unfold.

So it's not unlikely for him to form an obsession for someone who's so emotionally vulnerable.

Someone who has the weight of the world on their shoulders; who has everything locked up inside to the point of bursting.

Because then it won't take much to have them falling apart and unraveling before him.

But he's also a caretaker, you know.

He's opportunistic and covertly callous and mischievous, yes.

But you've seen how much he tends to those close to him.

So when you do fall apart, you will do it in his arms.

He will take care of you.

He'll say everything you've always wanted to hear.

You're beautiful and wanted and loved and you don't have to be brave anymore.

Kuroo's here and he understands you.

From the barest changes in your inflection to your most subtle facial expression.

Other people won't catch it.

To Kuroo, though? Tell-tale signs that you're hiding your feelings again.

He understands you in a way that no else had; that no else cared to try.

And eventually that’ll be the very thing that you’ll hold onto.

Never mind that his every word has become an indisputable fact (when it shouldn’t be).

Never mind that the line between Kuroo just being a mindful boyfriend AND Kuroo disregarding your boundaries has become too blurry that it’s impossible to tell which is which.

Never mind that your entire world has narrowed down to just him and you.

Because all your friends have, one by one, made their way for the exit.

They tell you that they're so tired.

They've warned you- begged you, actually- to end this insidiously suffocating relationship.

"I know he's only been nice to you and to us, but there's just...something wrong about that guy," they say.

But until they pinpoint, exactly, what that "something wrong" is; and until you see it for yourself, you're sticking by his side.

Damn whatever people say.

So.

Kuroo's not the yandere who'd chain you up in his basement or something.

Not that he's above it, but because he doesn't really need to.

Not when he has you bound right where it really matters.

😈NSFW😈

Kuroo has perfected being a dom down to a Science.

He knows exactly when to be mean and hurtful and sweet and kind and giving to you.

Kuroo's very generous, methinks! But only if he believes you deserved it.

So you better prove that you earned it!!

He'll having you cumming and gushing into his hand if you pleaded just enough!!

Looked into his eyes all pouty and teary and pliant to all his wishes.

Very into treating you and talking to you like you're not capable of comprehending words.

Oh, darling. I know I'm hurting you. I know I am. But you like it, don't you? That's right. Fuck yeah, you do, you fucking slut.

That's because you're just a dumb little baby, aren't you? You'd be happy as long as daddy makes you cum?

And you'd nod and say yes so obediently as he pounds your little hole even though you can't hear him over the sound of your own moans.

ALSO!!!

HE IS A TEASE!!!!

A FUCKINGN!!!!!!!!! TEASE!!!!

Every seggsy time is edging time!!

Has a thing for slapping your ass until your cheeks are bruised and tender under his palms.

And for sticking a vibrator inside you while you're out in public.

Just to teach you a lesson whenever he feels like you're not learning enough.

"Do you want me to come back until you're ready?" the waiter droned, obviously suppressing the urge to roll his eyes when all you did was grip the napkin in front of you.

You couldn't even look at poor kid; couldn't even make out a sound. You're too busy stifling the tingling within your walls, prompting you to cross your legs beneath the table and squeeze your thighs together.

And Kuroo's just...scanning the menu. Sitting idly before you. He's resting his chin against his open palm, long fingers brushing under his nose, while you're practically grinding down the chair.

You feel yourself leak into the crotch of your underwear, sticky liquid squelching against the crack of your ass as the toy continued to vibrate, burning you up and melting your insides, the buzzing a white noise only you could hear.

His indifference was unflappable. Kuroo even managed to call out, "Excuse me. Sorry about that earlier. We're ready now," so smoothly despite your desperate attempts to catch his attention. Then, he recited a bunch of dishes that you didn’t have the appetite for. Like you’re not outright writhing and earning a few disconcerted looks from the table next to you.

All you wanted was for him to put an end to this. You've learned your lesson. You're not gonna disappoint him again.

Instead, you watched in agonizing fear as he reached for his pocket. And immediately, without a warning, you felt the toy shake violently inside you.

"Ah!" you cried, sharply folding your arms and legs, making the plates and utensils clink against each other as your wrists chafed against your hard nipples.

Your boyfriend halted, leaned closer, and looked at you in a convincing display of concern.

"Are you alright, babe?" he muttered, caressing your knee, his nails pressing down just a tad. Not too hard. Just enough for you to hiss in a heady mixture of pleasure and pain.

You managed a small, quivering "uh-huh" as you begged him with your eyes. Conveying as much message as you could.

"Daddy, I'll be good for you. I swear. I won't lie anymore. I won't make you angry. I won't do anything that you wouldn't be happy about. Everything I do from this moment on will be just for you, daddy. I promise, daddy-"

But Kuroo only huffed out, a small, faint grin tracing his lips as he turned back to the waiter and said, "One cream pie, please."

Yandere! Kageyama Tobio

Content warning(s): rape/noncon

😇SFW😇

Fourth wall break, if you will: thank you, anon, for putting these characters together because I Believe that they’re each other’s foils in terms of yandere-isms. And this is gonna be an interesting contrast to see (at least, I hope it would be).

So Kuroo’s all subdued mind games, right? Like, you have to do a whole routine of mental gymnastics if you want to dig deep and analyze how he had your head spinning. 

But Kageyama? 

Kageyama says fuck that.

Kageyama, genius though he is, is about as subtle as a metal bat to the head when it comes to his darling.

He has no qualms about tying you to his bed once the opportunity presents itself to him.

But it didn’t start out like that.

At first, perhaps Kageyama was just an aloof classmate whose entire life revolved around volleyball.

The one who couldn’t even take a time out of his day to hang out with the rest of the class on a weekend.

Though Kageyama has a knack for attracting hostility from other people, there comes a time (rare it may be) that it is offset by people who are sympathetic to his idiosyncrasies.

His darling falls under the latter.

That's what draws Kageyama to you.

Hearing stuff like "D'you know what they used to call him before? King!" and "King because he's an arrogant dickhead who thinks he's better than everyone" are not new to him.

But hearing these are: "Stop that. It's rude to talk behind a person's back."

"Kageyama's passionate about volleyball. More than anyone we've ever met. Ok so it's alienating for us! Whatever! But isn't it admirable that he's doing his best at a thing that he loves?"

Kageyama did not get it.

You're not his teammate.

You're not his..anything.

You had no cause to try and be nice to him and defend him and..understand him, really.

So the rest was history.

The beginning might have been awkward.

Every time he tried to talk to you, Kageyama, for some reason, always blurted out the wrong things.

But you didn't mind. You just liked being his friend.

And Kageyama liked having you by his side.

Kageyama liked it, especially, when you're in the sidelines and cheering him on. (This caused quite a ruckus in Karasuno.)

It should have been weird. Kageyama had not known anything else besides volleyball.

Your presence should’ve been that of a stranger encroaching on someone else’s property.

Somehow, though, you fitted in so perfectly.

Like you’re made to be there.

So he tells you: “You’re free, aren’t you? You should be watching me play by now” and “You should be waiting for me after class” and “Stop making excuses. You’re not tired. You can still drop by practice” 

You’ve tried to reason with him. (Even contemplated about ending your friendship.)

But it’s not like you’re ever gonna shake him off.

Besides, you know that he wouldn’t accept anything less than perfect.

😈NSFW😈

His darling was his first sexual experience. 

And like any beginner, Kageyama was pretty...uh..bad at it ngl.

Add that to the fact that he’s on the bigger side and your first with him wasn’t consensual.

At that time, all Kageyama knew was that he really, really wanted to touch you and kiss you and fuck you senseless until you acknowledge that there’s no running from him. 

Trust, though, that Kageyama will not settle for being bad or, heaven forbid, mediocre at it.

Nope.

Not. a. chance.

Doesn’t matter that you’ve spent the entire day fucking.

Kageyama will not rest- not let you rest, until he drags out a moan from you; until you’ve ruined the sheets with how much he’s made you cum; until he has you begging for more. 

Will experiment a lot.

Will test out how fast and hard he has to fuck you to get what kind of reaction he wants from you.

Very attentive even to your quietest gasp.

If you so much as show a sign that you’re finding whatever it is he’s doing to your body pleasurable- curl your toe or arch your back- Kageyama will amp it up to the point where you’re screaming.

He’ll have this haughty, shit-eating grin while doing it too.

“Yes, you can,” Kageyama growled. “Spread those legs and show me how you do it.”

You shook your head, your body protesting at the slight movement. You’re already on the verge of blacking out. And you don’t have to check the ticking wall clock to know that, by now, Kageyama, too, should be knocked out and dozing off beside you.

But he only grabbed your wrists, making you howl in pain as soon as he touched the cuts and bruises across the skin. Remnants of the nylon rope that bound them together not too long ago.

“Touch yourself,” he repeated.

Kageyama’s voice is a rasping noise to your ears, his hot breath causing goosebumps all over you as he pressed his lips against the shell.

“No-no more, Kag-Kageyama,” you forced yourself to say, though your throat was dry and aching from all your screeching. 

He clicked his tongue. 

You flinched.

And you didn’t think it possible for Kageyama to be more frightening than he already is. Until you’d done as he’d told and, like a wolf patiently waiting to pounce, Kageyama zeroed in on how you moved your hands, his own reaching for his cock.

He didn’t take his eyes off of you, groaning as you trembled and mewled under your featherlight touch. Kageyama stroked himself, grinding into his fist until pre-cum dripped from the head.

“That how you like it, huh,” he croaked.

Before you could even reach an orgasm, Kageyama had already pushed you on your back, mimicking the way you pleasured yourself. Only this time it was rougher, more unforgiving, and indifferent to your cries of “Stop! Stop it, I can’t- Enough, Kageyama!”

#tw non con haikyuu #yandere headcanons #dark content haikyuu #yandere kuroo #yandere kageyama #yandere haikyuu #tw noncon #y/n's gender is not specified

[capsironunderoos]

I Told You So

Sergeant Hunter X Female!Reader

Request: @mandos-crest​ Sergeant Hunter is absolute putty around the reader. He denies it to his brothers, but it’s totally obvious. He’s over protective and whipped for them, and the reader is completely oblivious too! The Bad Batch think Hunter is being super nice.

Word Count: 1,413

Warnings: None! But there is a suggestive scene with a bad dude in a bar...

Author’s Note: Hey hey! Sorry this took me so long to crank out, I really wanted it to meet your request! I hope you like it! 

Also, italics mean past tense, and some of this is in Omega’s POV!

Here’s a link to my masterlist: capsironunderoos masterlist

“There it is, that look I was telling you about,” Hunter hears mumbled behind him, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. 

He’s too busy watching you play with Omega. You’re sitting cross-legged on the ground, nodding along with Omega as she tells you a story. You idly hold her stormtrooper doll as she holds Lula, both of you fully engrossed in the story Omega is telling. 

“He looks like he’s about to burst into song,” he hears someone else mumble, and he rolls his eyes as he casts one last glance your way before turning to see Echo and Tech standing behind him, arms crossed in front of their chest as they stand in identical positions. 

“What is this, an intervention?” Hunter asks, missing the way your gaze now shifts to watch him speaking with Echo and Tech. 

“Of sorts,” Tech starts, and Hunter huffs. 

“I told you we’d leave as soon as we gathered some more supplies and made a few minor repairs to the ship,” he starts, referring to the dreadfully hot planet the crew had to make a last-minute landing on. 

“As good as that would be, we’re actually referring to… something else,” Echo clears his throat at Tech’s wording, and he sighs before correcting it. “Someone else,” he amends. 

“Oh no, no. We’re not talking about this again,” Hunter counters, and you continue to watch him as his arms swing as he speaks, his hands emphasizing his words. 

A smile plays on your lips and Omega looks up from Lula when she notices you’ve fallen quiet. Her eyebrows furrow as her mind begins to work. 

“I think we need to,” Echo responds, and Hunter’s shoulders drop. “You can’t go five minutes without asking where she is, without being near her. She even took a nap in your quarters last hyperspace jump!” Tech adds rather factually, and Hunter sends a pointed look his way. 

“Omega…” he mutters and shakes his head. “Listen, I see where you’re coming from, but I worry about all of you. And yes maybe I worry about her a little bit more, but it’s because of what she means to Omega.” 

“And to you,” Wrecker adds from behind him, and he sighs again. 

“Not you too,” he responds, turning to send a somewhat disappointed look to Wrecker. 

Omega has pieced it together. 

You like Hunter! 

She’s not entirely sure what that means, but she knows that you don’t look at the others the same way you look at him. She knows that he looks at you the same way, and that it means something... important. The two of you take care of everyone that’s true, but the care you share for each other is… different. It’s sweeter, softer, and she’s noticed it. 

She’s not the only one. 

“Okay that was one time!” Hunter argues, hands thrown up in aggravation and growing defeat. 

“It definitely was not! I can point to three different scuffs on your armor right now that are from you jumping in-between her and a blaster bolt, and those are just the ones I witnessed.” Echo counters. 

“I would take a blaster bolt for any of you, although that sentiment weakens each time we have this conversation,” Hunter retorts. 

“Fine, what about our last job for Sid hmm?” Hunter knows what Tech is referencing. 

You had volunteered to go undercover at a seedy bar, and Hunter was adamantly against it. He’d pulled you aside just before the mission, hand gripping your arm as he pulled you into a shadowed alley, eyes searching yours for even a hint of doubt. Any inkling that it wasn’t what you wanted and he would call it, no questions asked and credits be damned. 

“Hunter,” you whispered, hand coming to rest on his armor-covered chest, “I’ll be fine. I made my way through the galaxy before I met you. I can handle one womp rat in a bar, okay? And if not, you’ll only be one comm call away.” 

He still searches your eyes as he begins to speak, “What if you can’t get to your comms hmm? What if I’m too late? What if something happens and I can’t get to you?” He whispers, a strain in his voice. 

You smile softly and shake your head. 

“That would never happen. You always keep me safe.” 

“That creep had it comin’,” Hunter counters, albeit weakly. 

“He was walking right into our trap, you know, that we set up as a group, that we all agreed on? You definitely cost us those credits, and you know why.” Tech adds, still upset about the loss of credits from that particular mission. 

Hunter watches from a booth across the bar, eyes never leaving your back as he watches you flirt with the Twi’Lek saddled beside you. His body is turned to face yours, legs braced on either side of your stool so that you’re somewhat trapped with him. His left arm rests against your lower back, and his right is braced on the countertop of the bar. He leans over every so often to whisper in your ear and your shoulders shake with giggles. 

It’s enough to make Hunter want to punch him into the Outer Rim, but he stays seated. He watches for a few more minutes, telling himself to trust you, to trust the plan. 

The Twi’Lek moves again, this time his left hand moves from your lower back to brush your hair off of your shoulder before leaning in and beginning to press kisses to your bare shoulder. 

Hunter swears under his breath.

He watches as the Twi’Lek’s right hand grabs your chin, his left resting once more on your lower back. He’s pulling you into him, and Hunter is grinding his teeth so hard that his jaw will be sore for the next few weeks. He notices your hands bracing against his chest, slipping against the material of his shirt as you try and push him off of you. He pulls harder, suddenly showing enough strength to pull you completely into his lap. His left hand wraps around your stomach, pressing you into him, as his right hand begins to trail up your thigh. 

Hunter sees you struggling and is out of his seat so fast that he briefly registers the sound of his chair hitting the floor. He sees red as he knocks people out of his path, not hesitating to grab the shoulder of the Twi’Lek. 

“When a lady says no, she means no,” Hunter growls, pulling you behind him before throwing the Twi’Lek onto the floor of the bar. 

“I had him,” he hears you yell over the sound of his fist connecting with the Twi’Lek’s jaw. 

“I know you did,” he sighs as he lands another punch. 

“Okay,” Hunter agrees, nodding slowly, “that was my fault. But none of you saw what I did.” 

“Fine. What about your last few rations?” Wrecker brings up, and Hunter’s stomach decides to growl on cue. “We’re running low on food, but she always gets a full portion. And I don’t know the last time I saw you eat!” Wrecker yelps, and Hunter shushes him. 

“Let’s circle back to the nap, shall we?” Tech starts. “You let her sleep in your room, Hunter. In your room. The room that you specifically picked because it’s the farthest away from everyone on the ship. I don’t even know how to get to your room, if I’m being quite frank with you.” 

Hunter stands rigidly still as Tech talks to him, and Omega continues to watch you watch him. She smiles as she stands, handing Lula to you. 

“Here, I’ll be back,” she says, and you nod, still watching Hunter, mind not fully focused on the current conversation. Omega almost laughs at you as she begins to walk towards Hunter. The closer she gets the more their conversation becomes audible. 

“You like her, Hunter. You look at her differently, and you protect her in ways I’ve never seen you protect anything, or anyone for that matter. Yes, you look out for us, but not in the same way, and you know it.” Echo is finishing softly as Omega walks up, the conversation falling silent as they notice her appearance. 

They all look at her for a moment before she lays a hand on Hunter's arm, patting it reassuringly. 

“It’s okay Hunter, she likes you too!” Omega says, a large smile on her face. Hunter's eyes widen as Wrecker laughs. 

“Told you so!”  

#hunter x reader #the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #sergeant hunter x reader #sergeant hunter #star wars x reader #star wars #tbb #em writes

[live-the-fangirl-life]

Love is in the Lines

Nesta Archeron x Cassian - Tattoo Convention Oneshot

Nesta loses Cassian at a tattoo convention.

Written for Nessian month. @illyrianet

Prompt 1: Tattoo Artist

Prompt 2: We came to the…together, and now you’re lost.

Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language

2319 words

*******

“Cassian, I swear to the mother, when I find you…” Nesta grumbled to herself for the fourth, no it was the fifth, time in the last twenty minutes.

She pushed through the herds of people crowding the aisle, trying her best to scour every booth for her missing boyfriend.

One moment, he had been standing behind her waiting as she scrutinized a certain design, the next, she turned back around, and he had disappeared.

Deciding she wasn’t going to find him in this row, she turned the corner and began walking down the next aisle starting her search over again.

If she was lucky, she would spot his massive frame sticking out above the clusters of people, but so far luck wasn’t on her side because she’d been walking around the convention hall for almost half an hour now searching for him. Nesta passed each booth looking at the artists and the customers, but they were all strangers.

Getting to the end, she took one last scan over the heavily tattooed convention-goers—most having several visible piercings in their ears, noses, and sporadic other places on the face that she thought would be excruciating to pierce—and wondered what the hell she was doing.

Sighing heavily, Nesta turned and started walking down the next aisle.

Two years ago, if someone had told Nesta she would be wandering around a tattoo convention, she would’ve laughed in their face at the absurdity of it.

A year ago, she’d have rolled her eyes and said that even her ink-covered boyfriend who made her realized she didn’t hate all tattoos, wouldn’t have been able to convince her to spend a day surrounded by the buzzing machines and colorfully covered patrons.

Last week, she considered it.

Being with Cassian had made her learn a lot about herself; one of those things being the fact that she found all of his ink incredibly attractive.

There was something about the way the ink stood out on his tanned skin that made it look like it was supposed to be there. She couldn’t even imagine her boyfriend without his tattoos. The one time she tried, she made a mental image of his arms without the swirling geometric designs and his back without the large bat-like wings, not to mention all the other little designs he had strewn across his body suddenly gone—and she was surprised to find herself dismayed at the lack on ink.

One night, when Nesta was idly tracing some of the lines across his chest, she confessed to Cassian that she wanted to get a small tattoo of her own.

At first, he had been shocked. As much as she loved his designs, he knew she still looked at most people’s tattoos with distaste. In her words, “most of the tattoos I see look like someone stumbled into a shop at four in the morning, drunk out of their mind, and picked out the first thing they saw. And the artist just went with it.”

But Nesta listened whenever he talked about his own designs; about how they all meant something to him. How every design held a memory. Every time he looked at them—whether he was intentionally studying them or when he caught a glimpse of one out of the corner of his eye—he would think about why he got it. Each tattoo made him remember a story, or a person, or some sort of inspiration.

They were reminders, self-expressions, and memories.

Even the one he got when he and his brothers were wasted and thought getting matching tattoos—done by each other, of course—was an amazing idea. He always pointed out that particular tattoo whenever Nesta explained her disdain for the “impulsive permanent decisions” saying that even though the design isn’t great, every time he looks at it he laughs and thinks of the great time he has when he’s with his brothers.

So when Nesta told him she wanted to get a tattoo, Cassian was more than surprised. But as soon as his shock wore off, he got the broadest smile on his face and immediately started asking her questions. What did she want? How long had she wanted one? Color or Black and White? Where on her body? Question after question, and Nesta was glad that Cassian had been thrilled.

Smirking, she remembered what he had told her when she asked him if he thought she would look good with a tattoo.

“Good?” She’d never seen him look more ravenous, already picturing what she would look like with ink covering her body. He cupped her face and looked into her eyes. “Nes, sweetheart, you are already so gorgeous, but, fuck,” he groaned, “you would look so fucking stunning that I don’t know how I’d ever be able to keep my hands off you.”

Then he made sure to show her just how much he liked the idea of tattoos covering her body, using his tongue to trace potential designs across every inch of her skin.

The next day, Cassian showed Nesta the poster for the tattoo convention happening soon which brought dozens of artists together to showcase their work and allow for people to get tattoos done, and admire the different aesthetics and designs.

When Nesta agreed to go with him, she made it very clear she was just looking for inspiration. It was practical, she reasoned, to go to see all kinds of designs in one place so she could get a sense of what exactly she wanted.

She figured he would be attached to her side, wanting to show her everything and point out his favorites.

The last thing she expected was to lose Cassian in the crowd.

Nesta finished eyeing another row of booths, still no sign of her missing, infuriating, boyfriend.

“C’mon Nesta, he said” she muttered as she walked. “It’ll be fun, he said. You’ll get inspired and I’ll be right there with you, he said.”

Nesta just about turned the corner when a booming laugh caught her attention. Zeroing in on the sound she caught sight of Cassian—well, his hair really. The long, dark, wavy strands were pulled up into a bun on top of his head, making his strong jawline covered in artfully groomed stubble stand out.

Nesta sometimes found it hard to stay mad at Cassian because no matter what she was upset about, he always found a way to make her smile. Even unintentionally. Like right now, part of her wanted to strangle him for vanishing on her and making her scour the convention hall for him, but hearing the sound of his laugh softened her and she allowed herself to smile at him before quickly schooling her features and making her way over to where he was sitting.

Sitting.

He was sitting in a reclining chair while the booth’s tattoo artist leaned over him to draw a new piece of artwork on his skin.

Nesta was going to kill him. Seething, she marched towards him.

He brought her here, he disappeared, and then he went off to get a new tattoo—without her.

Cassian’s eyes lit up as he spotted her. “Nes! Check it out, look who’s here.”

For the first time, Nesta looked at who exactly was inking her boyfriend.

“Az?” She blinked, momentarily losing her frustration. “I didn’t know you would be here.”

Azriel dipped his needle into the ink again and let out a low chuckle. Once he deemed enough ink was added, he gave Nesta a rueful smile. “I assumed this one,” he nodded at Cass who was still grinning at her “would show up today, but I thought I could get a couple of hours of actual clients before he took over my booth. I didn’t expect to see you here, though” Azriel concentrated on tracing another line but raised an eyebrow in her general direction.

“Yeah, well, this one,” she imitated Azriel’s tone and nodded at Cassian, “wanted to show me what one of these conventions was like, but apparently he decided it was better to run off and get another tattoo.”

Setting her bag down, Nesta sunk into the chair beside Cassian and crossed her arms.

“I’ve been wandering around for more than thirty minutes looking for you, asshole”

Az snorted, but didn’t comment, just kept drawing something that Nesta couldn’t quite see.

“Aw babe, don’t be mad,” Cassian leaned over as best he could and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before she could turn away. Not that she didn’t want a kiss from him, but she was still upset at his antics. “You were so absorbed looking at that lady’s designs I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

Nesta’s anger melted a little at that. They had been walking around for a while when Nesta spotted a particular design she liked. She dragged Cassian over to a booth hosted by a woman whose arms were covered in colorful images and had her hair pulled back in a bright bandanna. She had a handful of binders on the table filled with designs and photos of healed artwork.

It was the minimalistic stack of books that had caught Nesta’s eye from across the aisle. She followed the single line as it swirled around creating the image. She must have been more lost in thought than she realized if Cassian deemed it best not to interrupt her.

“And,” He gave her a wide grin, “I hoped I could find Az and convince him to tattoo me for free.”

Rolling her eyes at Cass’ satisfied look and Az’s long-suffering one, she watched as people passed by the booth. Some looked through the design books, others paused to watch for a moment as Az worked. Turning back to face Cassian, she saw he was already looking at her.

“Fine. I’m still annoyed, though.” She leaned in closer, “What are you getting?”

Now Cassian’s face turned a little nervous. He still looked excited and happy and keen in the way he always looked when he watched her, but now he started to look a little worried, too.

“Before you freak out or get angry, let me explain.”

Nesta’s mind immediately went to worst-case scenarios. What could he be getting that he thought she would be angry? What would Azriel agree to ink that she should be upset about? Was it—

“Great way to start.” Azriel muttered from Cassian’s other side.

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes and turned back to Nesta just as she stood up and walked around to peer over Azriel’s shoulder.

Az was putting the finishing touches on but she could see exactly what the image was.

It was delicate ‘N’ on the inner edge of his wrist.

Nesta didn’t say anything—couldn’t say anything—she just stared at the design now permanently etched into her boyfriend’s skin.

Cassian cleared his throat and Azriel backed away to put his needles down and give them a moment of privacy. As much privacy as they could have in the small booth.

“It’s an N,” Obviously. “For you.” Obviously.

Nesta couldn’t drag her gaze away from the letter. All her anger and frustration faded away. She forgot how irritated she was with him, how upset she had been when she turned around and he was gone. She forgot the instant jolt of panic she felt when she thought she had lost him.

Nesta took in each line and curve of the tattoo and felt such an overwhelming feeling of love for this crazy, impulsive, wonderful man.

“You…” She finally looked up to see him watching her face carefully.

“What do you think?” He waited for her to say something, but after a moment of silence, he started rambling. “Is it too much? Do you like it? You don’t like it. It’s too much. If you don’t like it I can change it. I mean, I can see if Az can change it. I could get it covered up—”

“No!”

Nesta grabbed his worried face in her hands and kissed him fiercely. She tried to pour everything she was feeling into that kiss, and make him know that she did like it, she loved it. She loved him.

“No, don’t cover it up.” She pressed her forehead to his before pulling back and intertwining their fingers, using her grip to lift his arm to get a better view.

“So, you do like it?” A slow smile appeared on his face.

Nodding softly, she told him, “I do.” Nesta swallowed, another rush of emotion hitting her. “You really wanted to get something for me inked onto you? These things last forever you know.” She tried to make a joke, but she was still feeling overwhelmed.

She almost couldn’t believe that he wanted a piece of her, something to remind him of her constantly and forever. It was insane; totally impulsive and unbelievable, but the sweetest most loving gesture anyone had ever done for her.

Cassian used his fingers to tilt her chin up so he could look her in the eye. “Of course I wanted to. Every time I’ll see it, I’ll think of you.”

She kissed him again.

Breaking apart, Nesta slowly moved her finger around the letter, careful not to brush it and hurt him.

“Why here?”

He forced her to meet his stare as he said, “I wanted it over my pulse point because my heart beats for you.”

He kissed her this time and put everything he had into it. She brought one hand around behind his head, the other rested on his chest, and kissed him back with just as much passion.

“That’s so corny” she murmured against his lips

They broke apart, each breathing a bit heavily.

Cassian gave her a cheeky grin and winked.

“You love it. And didn’t you know, sweetheart,” he gave her one more peck on the lips, “we’re gonna last forever, too.”

*****

I know I’ve posted a lot of oneshots recently, but don’t worry, I’m absolutely still working on my longer fics. I’m just taking advantage of the inspiration as it hits me

Taglist:

@acourtofsnakes @allthebooksunderthemoon @astra-ad-mare @becarefuloflove @bisexual-genderfluid-loki @booklover41802 @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @danibutterr @doubt-less @emily-gsh @enormousbooklover @foughtconquered @fromthelibraryofemilyj @hakunamatatazz @i-have-but-one-brain-cell @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jorjy-jo @lemonade-coolattas @mariamuses @mayhemories @midsizewitch @miserablesmusings @morganofthewildfire @nehemikkele @rowaelinismyotp @rowansfirebringer @sayosdreams @sheharahu @sleeping-and-books @stardelia @story-scribbler @superspiritfestival @surielandiareendgame @swankii-art-teacher @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading

#nessianmonth #nesta #cassian #nesta archeron #nessian #nesta x cassian #cassian x nesta #nesta and cassian #cassian and nesta #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nessian fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #tattoo #tattoo convention #azriel #lost #Love is in the Lines #LiitL #nessian month

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part VII

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni)

Warnings: dramatics, gaslighting, pining pining pining, drinking, attempted drugging, blacking out, vomiting, Nile and Hitch hook up, did I mention pining, one Greek word (thank you again, @cynnyc .)

It’s nearly ten PM as you climb the steps to the PKA house. The brisk October air makes you pull your jacket tighter around yourself and move toward the door faster. You probably should’ve texted your target first, checked to see if he’s even here, but you’re not about to stand outside and wait for a reply, not when you can just knock and ask a living soul.

 It’s Reiner who answers, looking extremely tired with dark circles under his eyes. You idly wonder if he and the other new kids are being kept awake as another stupid fucking hazing ritual, but you don’t really have the time for small talk. 

 “Erwin here?”

 The blond nods and steps out of the way. “His room. Might already be asleep.”

 Shrugging, you walk inside, mumbling, “Just gonna have to wake his ass up then.”

 Which you do, climbing up to the third story after Reiner tells you which room he’s in now. You knock on the door a couple times and almost feel bad when Erwin answers, clearly rumpled in pajama pants and bedhead. 

 He squints at you, and you snort. “Sleep before ten? You some kinda nerd or somethin’?”

 “What do you want?” He gruffs, voice a little scratchy. 

 You can see part of the room behind him, looks pretty similar to the one from last year. That had been the only time you’d really gotten a close look into his space, and it had not ended well. You hope this time will be different. 

 “I needed to talk to you about something.”

 Erwin scrubs a hand down his face then rests his head against his doorframe. “I’ll take a wild guess and say this is about Mike.”

 You push your lips out in a pout and respond, “Maybe.”

 He lets you into his room, catches you off guard when he asks, “Door open or closed?” 

 “Depends. You gonna come onto me again?”

 He chuckles and shakes his head. “I learned my lesson last time.”

 “You can shut it then.”

 Taking up the chair at his desk, you watch as Erwin just crawls back under his covers and fixes cerulean eyes on you. 

 “Why haven’t you been talking to him?”

 Something in your stomach flips, eyes growing as you splutter, “I haven’t been talking to him? He hasn’t been talking to me!” 

 Erwin frowns. “What? He’s been bitching to me incessantly.”

 “And, I’ve been bitching to Hitch incessantly.”

 Groaning into his pillow, Erwin holds out his hand, and you hear a muffled command, “Give me your phone.”

 You do without hesitation, rattle off the passcode then sit and wait as Erwin scrolls through what you assume to be your settings or contacts. The thought that you should be a little scared crosses your mind—you do have some compromising photos in an unlocked folder—but judging by Erwin’s current mood, he doesn’t seem interested in anything except sleeping. 

 “That motherfucker,” he grunts.

 “What?”

 “You blocked his number.”

 “What?” This time is much louder and panicked. “No, I didn’t! I swear I didn’t.”

 He tosses you the device back and gestures in a ‘see for yourself’ manner. “Someone did.”

 Your blood begins to boil as you stare down at your short list of blocked contacts, Mike’s name right on top.

 “Are you fucking kidding me?” You quickly tap to remedy the problem, hands beginning to shake. “I don’t even know how—”

 “My money’s on the shitty boyfriend,” Erwin mumbles.

 You want to text Mike, but you have no idea what to say. Sorry we haven’t talked in over a month. Zeke figured out my phone password and blocked your number haha. You doubt that would fly.

 If you had just come to Erwin sooner, most of this could have been avoided. You don’t know if you’re more upset at Zeke or at yourself.

 Zeke. Definitely Zeke. That is some wildly possessive behavior. That’s isolation. The idea makes you nauseous. This is just another instance of him showing what you believe to be his true self. Between all the fighting and grudges, you’re at your wit’s end. Just the other day, the two of you had gotten into yet another argument when you happened to get a glance at the Tinder icon in his app list. 

 “Why do you still have that?” You’d asked with a frown. You really hadn’t planned on it turning into an ordeal. 

 “Have what?”

 “Tinder.”

 “What are you talking about?”

 Then, right in front of your eyes, he had deleted the app. You saw it, but that didn’t stop Zeke from looking at you with a straight face and telling you, “I think you’re just confused, babe.”

 That’s when it turned into an ordeal. That’s when you got defensive and incredulous. That’s when he just kept telling you that you were wrong, that you were just seeing things, and after a good thirty minutes once you were nice and high strung, he actually had you halfway convinced. 

 Because he always sounds so sure of himself, always makes it so that his word is law. You had doubted yourself—you’re still doubting yourself. 

 “Jesus, I can’t believe this,” you breathe, leaning back in the rolling chair and staring up at the ceiling. You can believe it, actually, you just hadn’t expected him to sink that low. “What do I even say to Mike?”

 Erwin finally pushes himself into a sitting position and stretches. Seems like he’s just resigning himself to being awake. “Whatever it is, you should probably talk it out in person.”

 “Probably.”

 “Might be a little difficult now, though.”

 Heaving a sigh, you mutter, “Yeah, I assume he's pretty pissed at me.”

 Erwin hums, but his voice comes out a little unsure when he says, “Well, that, but also…”

 You're suddenly sitting straight up. “Also what?”

 Making a face, the man across from you enlightens you to the fact that, “Mike is kind of seeing someone. I think.”

 You blink at him, trying to process what he’s telling you. Mike is… With someone? You feel sick.

 But, you shouldn’t because he’s allowed to branch out. You surely did, and you hurt him in the process. 

 “It, uh… It gets worse.”

 Swallowing, you try to hide the lump in your throat when you rasp, “How?”

 Don’t cry. Do not cry. You have no right to cry. 

 “I’m about ninety-nine percent positive it’s Zeke’s ex.”

 Every muscle in your face suddenly relaxes, but it isn’t in a good way. Instead of frowning, your brow softens into its normal position. You release the tension in your jaw, the teeth that were just clenched falling away from each other as your lips part. Erwin moves in and out of focus as your gaze becomes blurry, hot tears gathering at your waterline, and now you don’t even try to stop them from falling. 

 Fucking Rhi. She had been nothing more than an annoyance before, a peppy little annoyance trying to grab your boyfriend’s attention. But, now… Now, you’re ready to fight. Parking lot brawl, throwing fists and pulling hair, and screeching—you want to destroy her. 

 “Oh.” You sniffle then wipe your nose with the back of your hand. “That’s good. I mean—” a quiet cough, “—that’s good for him. I’m glad.”

 Erwin snorts. “No, you’re not,” his volume rises a bit. “So, don’t pretend like you are. God, why are you guys so bad at this?”

 You let out a humorless laugh and shrug. “‘Cause I have shitty timing, I guess.” You bite your lip and look back to the ceiling, trying not to weep too openly, but your lungs are burning, preventing you from breathing, and your heart is bruising your ribcage, and you think your bones just might shatter inside of your chest. 

 There’s a rustling on the bed, and when you look back at Erwin, you find him laying down again but holding the blankets up in front of him. 

 “Come on.”

 “W-what? Erwin, that is literally the last thing we—”

 “I’m not trying to fuck,” he says, eyes heavy as he stares at you. “You need to relax, and I need to sleep, so just come on."

 You consider for a while, looking from Erwin to the mattress. You’re really not that close, would barely even call him your friend, but you did come to him tonight. You had chosen to confide in him. He makes some pretty questionable decisions sometimes, but you still believe that ultimately he’s a good person. 

 “Fine, but put a shirt on.”

 “Then, grab one. Second drawer. Make sure it’s soft.”

 You roll your eyes but do as you're told, running your hands over a few t-shirts until you find one that he should be pleased enough with. He tugs it on then collapses back on the bed, and you kick your shoes off then slip out of your jacket and under the covers.

 You’re facing him, trying to keep a few inches between yourself and his chest, but as you think about the position you’re in—why you’re in it, the tears start flowing freely again, and you’re holding back little whimpers, shoulders shaking at the effort. Erwin breathes in deeply then uses the arm he isn’t laying on to pull you to him, shushing you as he rubs the space between your shoulder blades with a warm hand. 

 “We’ll get it sorted out,” he promises, voice quiet as he starts to doze. 

 It’s not how you expected to end the night, but you suppose there are worse ways.

*

 Mike learns a lot of information in a very short amount of time. Nile meets him outside of the fitness center to give him the scoop, trying to look casual as he walks, but Mike can tell he's nervous. 

 He starts by asking if Mike has talked to you at all recently, and no, he has not. So, Nile tells him that you broke things off with Zeke and apparently it got messy. 

 "Something about him being a manipulative bastard," Nile waves a hand. 

 "Doesn’t surprise me. Took her long enough."

 You've been hanging around the Pike house again, sometimes by yourself and sometimes with Hitch—"Who's really fucking cute, by the way." Obviously Nile and Marie are in the 'off' portion of their relationship cycle. "And, you would know all this if you would just start coming around again. It's stupid to pay dues and not actually engage with the frat, dude."

 "I've just been busy with school," Mike tells him. It's only a half lie. His senior courses are kind of kicking his ass, but he's also been busying himself with Rhi who is… tolerable. 

 "Whatever. Halloween party is in, like, a week. If you don't show up, I'm gonna be real pissed."

 "I'll be there, Nile."

 "Okay, then lemme prepare you for one more thing."

 Mike stops walking and looks at the smaller man who inhales deeply then blows air out through his teeth. 

 "So, uh, she's hanging around again, right? And, you're not there, so it seems like she's sort of, uh, latched onto…" He makes a face, and Mike leans back. 

 "Don't fucking tell me."

 Nile cringes. "Yeah. I don't think they're fucking or anything. I haven't heard them in his room like I used to hear the two of you."

 "She goes into his room?" Mike has to flex his hand by his side, but the brick wall of the library they've stopped in front of is looking mighty nice. Break a few bones, bleed a little, it'll feel good. 

 "Yeah, but, like, they're nowhere near as close as you and her."

 "How close we used to be. It's been so fucking long since we've even talked, dude. And, any time I try to catch her on campus, the dickbag is with her—"

 "Well, at least you don't have to worry about that anymore."

 "Yeah, now I just have to worry about her fucking my best friend. Fuck, she just—" Mike growls in his throat, contemplates turning to go back to the gym because he needs to get this energy out somehow. "She drives me fucking crazy."

 "Yeah, I know, man. I just didn't want you to be surprised at the party when you see 'em all buddy-buddy."

 "I'm gonna punch him," Mike states. "Just lay him out in front of everyone."

 "Please don't," Nile sounds genuinely worried. "Maybe use the party as a way to, I don't know, talk to your girl? Like an adult?" 

 "Obviously not my girl, and I've been screwing around with Rhi anyway. Maybe it's just time we went our separate ways or whatever." 

 It physically hurts to even suggest, but he's trying to put on a brave face for his friend—act annoyed rather than fucking crushed, but god, he is aching. His stomach has opened up into nothing, his chest feels void of everything that was once inside, and he knows he's being dramatic, but fuck fuck fuck, first Zeke and now Erwin? What is it that Mike doesn't have? What can't he provide you with that they can? Just tell him, and he'll fucking fix it. 

 "Yeah, I think we both know that's not gonna happen. Plus, you do realize Rhi is probably just using you to make Zeke jealous."

 "I'm not fucking stupid, Nile, of course I know that." But, Mike is really tired of his love life revolving around that asshole, like he has to wait for Zeke to call all the shots. "I'm using her as much as she's using me, so—"

 "As a distraction?" 

 Mike lets his head loll to the side, peering down at Nile from the corner of his eyes. "What do you think?" 

 The other man gives him a light punch to the shoulder and once again suggests, "Talk things out. Just pull her aside at the party." 

 It's easier said than done. When Halloween rolls around, it's a little insane. It's too big and too loud with a flashing strobe that hurts Mike’s eyes. There are all sorts of costumes, making it hard to recognize anyone. The jungle juice is a mystery, one Mike doesn't plan on touching but that many people will. He has a feeling that more than a few party-goers are gonna end up sick, probably passing out in various locations of the house. 

 Mike has opted for an easy costume, the tacky tourist complete with his pink Hawaiian shirt, a straw hat, sunglasses, and a fanny pack. It's so awful, it actually made him laugh, but Rhi, clad in a spandex tiger suit, is not nearly as amused. She probably wanted him to go the sexy cop route or something equally as cringey, but Mike just doesn't have it in him tonight. 

 Nile is a shirtless cowboy, Hitch is a Catholic schoolgirl, Gelgar is Freddy Krueger with a pompadour, Reiner is a werewolf, the list goes on and on. Sexy, bloody nurses, superheroes, Harry Potter, and so on. 

 When his eyes land on you for the first time that night, Mike comes close to drooling his drink. Lola Bunny in her skimpy basketball uniform and a rabbit ear headband. Your face is painted, and you're carrying around one of those foam balls kids use to dunk into Fisher Price hoops, and he has no doubt the prop will be lost by the end of the party. 

 Mike thinks back to Spring Break, to you wincing at his movie choice then trying to sleep through it. You had woken up to him flipping through the photo album, then chose to finally open up to him. 

 So, why this costume? Why "torture" yourself like this? 

 And, speaking of torture, you're sticking to Erwin just like Nile said you would. The blond is in a tailored suit, his face painted like a skull. It's both classy and creepy, and Mike hates him for it. In fact, it calls for another drink. 

 Rhi finds him in the kitchen after making her rounds, taking up her former place on Mike's arm as he uses the counter to pop the lid off a fresh bottle. They watch the game of beer pong playing out in front of them, but Rhi doesn't seem content to just sit. 

 She has to stand on her tip-toes and shout into his ear, "Wanna walk around some?" 

 No. He really doesn't, but he can placate her, especially if it means getting laid later tonight. 

 They trek back to the main room, observing the debauchery taking place. People are grinding and stripping to Monster Mash. Several couples are spread out in the chairs or up against the wall getting pretty close to full on exhibitionism. 

 They stop to talk to "Officer" Marie for a while then move on to Nile and Hitch to whom Rhi spills everything she just heard from the busty redhead. They joke with Gelgar and his catch of the day, some of the pledges—Jean, Reiner, and Eren—who are just trying to survive, and then at last… you and Erwin. 

 Mike sees the way your chest rises with a deep breath, how your fingers tighten around the little basketball. Your eyes flit from Rhi to Mike, flashing when Rhi greets you. 

 Oh, you don't like her. 

 "Love the costume," she tells you. "Who are you supposed to be again?" 

 Mike chokes on his drink, and you suck your teeth before replying, "Lola Bunny. The Loony Toon."

 "Oh, is that, like, Bugs Bunny's girlfriend?"

 "Kind of?" You try. 

 Rhi looks to Erwin who visibly cringes when she asks, "Why aren't you dressed as Bugs then?" 

 Mike wants to turn around, to put as much distance between all of you as possible. 

 Erwin clears his throat. "Because that would be a couple's costume, and we're not…"

 Mike knows his expression is skeptical, cold even, and when he settles it on you, you give him a little shake of your head that he doesn't really believe. 

 "Oh, alright," Rhi concedes only to chime, "'Cause I heard—"

 "Wrong," Erwin cuts her off. "You heard wrong, Rhi." A hard, blue stare lands on Mike, unforgiving when he tells him, "I think it's time you two talked."

 "I don't think that's really—"

 "Oh, fuck," your swear gets everyone's attention, and Mike takes in the shock written all over your face then follows your line of sight to the entry way where Zeke god damn Jaeger is making his way through the crowd. 

 "What the hell is he doing here?" Erwin spits. 

 "You and Nile decided this should be an open party, dumbass," Mike reminds him with a roll of his eyes. 

 "Oh, so we're name-calling now? Jesus Mike, grow up. You're just assuming shit!" As he rants, Erwin takes hold of one of your arms and pulls you behind him, snatching the furry headband from you so the ears don't stick out. 

 For a split second, Mike thinks he's trying to protect you from him, but then he nods to bring Mike's attention to the approaching figure behind him, and Mike understands. 

 He turns his body to face Zeke who's walking over, fragmented by the strobe, his icy eyes piercing straight through his glasses. Mike, despite his anger toward you, feels the primal urge to protect you. 

 "The fuck do you want, Jaeger?" 

 "Woah, calm down, bud. Just looking for a brat—about yea high, spreads her legs for any athlete she comes in contact with. You guys seen her?" 

 Mike steps toward him, but he's stopped by a hand that fists in the back of his shirt. 

 "Ah, there she is," Zeke smirks, and Mike looks over his shoulder to see you now in front of Erwin with your fingers clutching the pink material across his back. 

 "He's not worth it, Mike."

 Mike thinks he is, though. He feels like he keeps getting whiplash, going back and forth between who he wants to hit at any given moment because it seems to change by the second.

 He's just been so incredibly frustrated for the past few months. Lacrosse doesn't help, and  the gym doesn't help, and fucking Rhi doesn't help. Mike has just been stewing, letting everything fester during the radio silence between the two of you. He's mad at so many people including himself, and all he wants to do is shove his way out of this stupid fucking party and take off his stupid fucking fanny pack and be alone in his apartment under his dumb fairy lights. 

 He shrugs out of your grip, figures the best thing he can do right now is get away from all of you. Zeke stumbles when Mike shoulders into him forcefully. He's not even a little surprised when Rhi doesn't follow him, choosing to vie for Zeke's attention instead. 

 It doesn't matter. All that matters is that Mike gets another drink in him. 

 He tries not to watch the way the heated conversation turns out, the way you bow up to Zeke and Erwin has to once again put himself in between you and the other blond. He tries not to smile at the fire in your eyes, that blaze he's seen so many times (usually when you're annoyed at him), and yes, there's that pain again, barely overshadowing Mike's anger. 

 You yell something at Zeke. He yells back. Erwin feels the need to add his own opinion, but the music is too loud for Mike to be able to make any of it out. Whatever is shouted makes Zeke huff and walk away. Rhi prances after him, and Mike resigns himself to the fact that he probably will not be fucking her after this shit show. He could always find someone else, but that takes effort (not much, but still), and then they usually get clingy afterward, and he just can't be bothered with all that right now. Mike can't be bothered with anything right now. 

 So he drinks. 

 He keeps an eye on Zeke who doesn't actually leave the party, and he drinks. He stares at you from across the room, bunny ears back in place, and he drinks. Somewhere between Boom and Beer Pong, he loses the fanny pack, looks down at some point and finds that it's just no longer there. All he had in there was a lighter and a couple condoms, so he isn't too broken up about it, but he does wonder—

 Mike isn't sure what makes him look over at the counter where all the different drinks are set out, but he does, and it's just in time to see Eren hunching over the bowl of jungle juice like some shady motherfucker, and when Mike makes his way over, world spinning just a little bit, he sees the younger Jaeger brother emptying a little plastic bag of green pills into the punch. 

 "What the fu—" Mike has him by the collar before he can even finish his own question, tosses the kid away from the counter so that he actually falls to the floor. It causes a few people to hop out of the way, their drinks sloshing and spilling on the tile. "What the fuck are you doing?" 

 Eren looks up at Mike with wide, panicked eyes, like he's scared and waiting for someone to save him. 

 "I—I don't know what you think you saw, man—"

 "I know exactly what I saw, you little creep!" 

 Everyone in the kitchen is looking at the two of them as more people trickle in. 

 "What even was that? You trying to roofie the whole fucking party or something?" 

 "No!" 

 "Just one person, then? That one special girl," Mike hisses.

 He walks back to the counter and grabs the large bowl of juice, carrying it over to Eren who's still on the ground. The kid covers his face just in time for Mike to empty the contents over his head, drenching him so that red drips from his hair and trickles down his arms. 

 "Drink up, bitch," Mike snarls before throwing the bowl so that it bounces off Eren's head. 

 Naturally, a bigger crowd has gathered, and Nile shoves his way through, shouting over the music, "What is happening?" 

 Mike leans over to yell in his ear, "Saw him pouring pills into the punch."

 "Are you serious?" 

 Mike nods but steps away when Eren pushes himself off the wet floor and nearly throws himself at Nile. 

 "I didn't do it! I don't know what the fuck he's talking about!" 

 Nile arm-bars Mike when he tries to move toward the little twerp, lips pulling back from his teeth because it has been a shitty night. A shitty week. Shitty month. And, now his fury has shifted yet again. 

 "Did anyone else see it, Mike?" Nile asks. 

 "Probably not since everyone is fucked up—"

 "Including you."

 Mike looks over at his friend in genuine surprise because it's starting to sound like Nile doesn't believe him. 

 "Why the fuck would I lie about something like this?" 

 "Maybe because he's Zeke's brother," Nile suggests. 

 Mike is heated. He can feel the blood underneath his skin cooking his god damn insides, frying his brain so that all he can think about is throwing a punch or two (or twenty). 

 Jaw sliding, Mike shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath to steady himself, to stop his hands from shaking as he tries to figure out when his friends started looking at him as some unhinged freak. 

 "What are you doing—the fu—dude, stop!"

 Opening his eyes again, Mike sees that Gelgar has inserted himself into the situation and has Eren pinned against the counter as he shoves his hands in every one of his pockets. He's growling something at the younger man, keeps shoving his face down against the linoleum any time Eren squirms, and after about a minute of people watching and gasping and making crude remarks about the position the two are in, Gelgar straightens up with a plastic bag identical to the one Mike saw Eren emptying into the jungle juice. 

 "It's just Adderall, I swear!"

 Gelgar scoffs. "This is definitely not Adderall. Believe me, I'd know." He tosses the pills to Nile who takes a long look at them before glaring at Eren. 

 "Get the fuck out before I call the cops."

 He should call them anyway, Mike thinks, but he understands Nile's hesitance. There's a lot going on at the party—underage drinking, party drugs in various rooms, etc. Eren wouldn't be the only one taken into custody if the police showed up. 

 Another voice rings out, asking the same question everyone else has, "What the hell is going on?" and Mike comes close to hurling the closest bottle at Zeke as he makes his way to his brother. "Why are you…" He gestures nebulously as his eyebrows pull together. Rhi is close behind him, and further still, you and Erwin are peeking into the kitchen. 

 "They think I drugged the jungle juice!" Eren looks at Zeke with puppy eyes that probably worked when he was a kid, might still work judging by the way the blond whirls around to face Mike and Nile. 

 "Have any proof, or are you just trying to—"

 "Pipe down, Jaeger," Nile cuts him off, holding up the bag and explaining, "Mike saw him dropping these in the punch."

 Zeke is silent for a few solid seconds before rounding on his brother again and grabbing him by the shirt right where Mike had previously held him, and everyone watches in rapt attention as he steers Eren through the crowd, shouting at him the entire time. 

 Having both of them leave is a relief, but Mike is a little disappointed that he didn't get to fight either of them. It would have been nice to feel a nose break under his fist, but he supposed it's better this way. 

 "Hey, thanks for catching that, dude," Nile says, slapping Mike's back. 

 It doesn't make him feel good. If anything, it pisses him off. Mike would understand if his friend had been skeptical of one of the pledges or second years making the accusation he had, but Nile is one of his best friends. They were inducted at the same time, were hazed side by side. Mike never would have thought Nile had such a low opinion of him, that he’d believe Mike’s little broken heart would cloud his judgement to the point of slandering someone without cause. 

 "Whatever," he shrugs before grabbing another drink. 

 He should just go back home. He isn't having a good time. He's angry at just about everyone he looks at. When Rhi decides he's worth her time again, Mike actually tells her to fuck off. He's lost the accessories to his costume, and he's about to lose his mind. 

 It's getting late. Mike isn't sure how late because as the night progresses, he gets steadily inebriated. He tries to avoid anyone and everyone in his fraternity, hanging out with people he knows from lacrosse or his classes instead. They play a few drinking games, take body shots off some sorority girls (or maybe it's the same one, he can't tell anymore). The music becomes bearable, and the strobe light stops hurting his head, and eventually, Mike just… forgets. 

 He forgets about Nile's lack of faith. He forgets about the fuckhead Jaeger brothers. He forgets about you and Erwin walking around and laughing together oh, ha ha we're so close now. He is finally spared from all of his negative thoughts. 

 Mostly because somewhere between shot number seven and beer number who knows what, Mike pukes into a plant (maybe?) and blacks out.

 *

 "God dammit. Erwin," you tug on his jacket sleeve and point to the corner that is home to a fake ficus that Mike is currently throwing up in. 

 Erwin groans, "Oh, Jesus Christ," and starts making his way over with you hot on his heels. 

 A few people are making faces as they glance at Mike, moving away as he coughs, straightens, then bends over again. 

 "Mike, come on, buddy," Erwin pats his back, waiting for Mike to pause in his retching so that he can duck under his arm and support him. "Gotta get you to a bathroom."

 "No bath," Mike snorts. "No green there, no…"

 You take a place on his other side, not that you can help much in getting him down the hall and in one of the downstairs restrooms, but you at least support his other arm and steer him in the right direction. 

 "Why is he talking about green?" Erwin grumbles as you both lower Mike to the tiled floor in front of the toilet where he promptly pukes again. 

 "The leaves maybe? I don't know, dude. Just…" You cringe as you notice the way Mike's shaggy hair hangs down into the toilet bowl, subject to all kinds of splash back. "Do you have a hair tie on you?" 

 "Literally why in the fuck would I have a hair tie on me?" Erwin asks incredulously, and you laugh because a couple weeks ago, he never would have used that word in this context since it's wrong, but the more you spend time with him, the more he picks up on your vernacular, and that really doesn't matter right now because—

 "Water," Mike croaks, voice echoing off the ceramic. 

 "I don't think you'll be able to drink any right this second, man," Erwin tells him, squatting beside him. 

 Mike shakes his head. "Wanna feel—feel water. Cold."

 "He sounds like a fucking caveman," you snicker. 

 You're really just trying to stay calm, masking the sick feeling in your stomach with amusement, but you've been watching Mike all night as he downed beer after beer, mixing various liquors as he took shots and licked salt off some chick's stomach. You figured he would get sick, but there wasn't really much you could do about it. He had made it pretty clear he isn’t interested in speaking to you. Still, you had purposely remained mostly sober just in case something like this happened (also because you make bad decisions when you get fucked up at frat parties).

 "Yeah, he definitely won't remember any of this."

 "Waterrr," Mike tries again, and you look at the way his arm is dangling over the side of the tub, the faucet on the opposite side, and glance at Erwin at a loss. 

 He shrugs, eyes darting around until he sees the plastic cup upside down on the shower rack. He grabs it, turns the water on and fills the cup, then dumps it over Mike's hand. 

 Mike groans, slowly wriggles his fingers under the stream, and drawls, "Thaaaank."

 You shake your head and motion for the cup, talk loud enough to be heard over the faucet, "I can handle this. You go back outside."

 "What? No."

 "There's no reason both of us have to be in here. He's just gonna puke his guts out for a few hours and then pass out." 

 Erwin doesn't seem sold on the idea. 

 "Come on. You've gotta go back. You're vice president or whatever."

 "So?" 

 "Erwin."

 He stares at you for a while then deflates. "Fine. Do you have your phone on you?" 

 "Always." You gesture to the elastic waistband of your shorts, phone pressed to your hip as it hangs on the inside of the material.

 "Text me if you need help, alright?" 

 "You got it, boss."

 He leaves just in time for Mike to violently retch into the toilet, one hand clutching the bowl as his spine curves. You fill the cup back up, pour it over his hand once again, and repeat the action over… and over… and over.

 His face and hair are gonna be a mess, probably his shirt too which is actually a blessing because you'll finally have a legitimate reason to burn it. Pepto Bismol pink and sketched palm trees stare at you as you sit on the edge of the tub, and all you can think of is the first time you saw Mike wearing the terrible shirt, how that had ended up, how you left with it the following morning. 

 How had the two of you gone from that to this? Sure, you weren't super fond of him at the beginning of it all, but he grew on you. A lot. He's your best fucking friend. Through the last couple months, through this weird fight you're having, he is your best friend. It's why you're here right now taking care of his drunk ass. 

 It'll pass. This phase will pass, and you'll make up, and you'll get your chance to be honest with him, to tell him how you feel about him. It may have taken you a little too long to arrive at your destination, so to speak, but better late than never. Soon, you'll both be able to look back on this and laugh. 

 People knock on the door here and there, and you scream at them to go away, eventually getting tired of it and just clicking the lock into place. 

 Any time you stop pouring water over his hand, Mike whines and attempts to say something, choppy words that don't make a ton of sense. You wonder if you need to call an ambulance, look for the signs of alcohol poisoning, but he doesn't feel cold, his breathing is even between bouts of vomiting, and his arms aren't curling in that tell-tale way. 

 More than likely, he just made himself sick. He knows better, too. He's been partying for a long enough time to be well aware of the mixing rules. Beer before liquor and all that shit. He may have just not cared tonight, though. From what Erwin has told you, Mike has just been in a generally bad mood for a while now (and Erwin has not tried to be subtle about why). He's barely around the Pike house anymore, he keeps getting called for personal fouls in lacrosse, and he's sleeping with Rhi which is nobody's business but is also strange considering her history—some kind of mutualistic symbiotic relationship that nobody is a real fan of. 

 Not my circus, not my monkeys, you think to yourself, emptying another cup from your place on the floor now. The ceramic was starting to hurt your ass, and you know your arm will probably be a little sore tomorrow, or later today since it's nearing three. 

 Fatigue is beginning to set in, and you know Mike is exhausted because he keeps dozing off on the toilet seat so that you have to nudge him back awake. Until he can speak in mostly coherent sentences, he's not allowed to sleep. 

 Sitting in the bathroom gives you ample amount of time to think. You go over some mental flashcards for a while, notes you took with the help of Mike's magic textbook. Then you think about going to your mom's for Thanksgiving and how much you aren't looking forward to it. Then you think about Zeke showing up only to have to escort his shady brother from the house. God, you had not been happy to see him. You'd been a little afraid, if you're being honest. 

 After figuring out that he had, in fact, blocked Mike's number on your phone, you had stomped into his apartment and initiated a screaming match. You got loud, he got louder, called you a stupid bitch and punched a hole in the drywall. You had decided that was a pretty good time to leave, both the apartment and the relationship. He's been lurking on campus around your most frequented spots—the science building, the library, but you've been doing a good job of camouflaging yourself in groups of other students. Even if he can see you, he can't do much about it. 

 You've thought about reporting him to campus police, but you know nothing will come of it. The golden boy can do no wrong. It's why you've been spending so much time at the PKA house again. You know most of them have your back, and you are absolutely not above asking any of them to walk somewhere with you to fend off your angry ex. 

 You can't wrap your head around what his fucking deal is. Surely he didn't treat Rhi like this after they split. There's no way she would still be so infatuated with him if he had. Is it just because you're the one who dumped him? He had to have seen it coming once you started putting the pieces together, the way he constantly tried to make you feel guilty, isolating you from your friends, invading the privacy of your phone to not only block Mike but also to turn your fucking location on so he could track you (you had found that out after that first trip back to the frat house to talk with Erwin. It had not been pretty).

 It's hard to believe you put up with it for as long as you did. It was only five months, but that's still five months too long. 

 Mike is quiet for several minutes, and you sigh when you see that his eyes are closed once again. He makes a noise of displeasure when you use your foot to gently shake him, grumbling, "Sto-o-op."

 "Nope. Gotta stay awake, Miche. Can't have you fallin' into a coma or something'."

 "Nooo. No Miche."

 "Yes, Miche," you laugh. 

 He scrunches his face up, shakes his head, but the motion seems to make him sick again. 

 When he finishes gagging into the toilet, he lets out a deep, "Gu-uuh," then sniffs. "No Miche. Jus' she—she—...Jus' her."

 You can figure out the rest, but you can't decide if you want to smile or cry. Only you can call him that. Well, you and his mom. You miss her. And his dad. And Scout. You hope to see them again. 

 "Okay. Just Mike then."

 He hums in confirmation then shakes his hand in the tub so that you'll douse it once again. 

 "You're a needy drunk, you know that?" 

 Mike doesn't respond to that, just takes a few deep breaths as his eyes close yet again. 

 "Sleep now," he mumbles. 

 "No, no sleep now."

 "Sleep now."

 "Oh my fucking god."

 His mouth drops open a little, and the first thing you think to do is splash him in the face with the cup of water. 

 He spits and splutters but doesn't shift much, still wrapped around the toilet. You try not to look inside when you stand and reach to flush what's already gathered, trying to shield some of Mike's face from any flying droplets. Then you wash your hands and sit back down. You figure you'll be here for at least another couple of hours. The sun will be coming up soon. Thank god it's a Saturday. 

 Both Erwin and Nile knock on the door for an update, and you yell that you're okay. Mike isn't throwing up as often, and when he does, nothing is coming up anymore. He's gonna be in a world of pain when he returns to his normal self. 

 So fucking stupid. He's so fucking stupid. 

 He mutters nonsense on and off. Sometimes you can translate what he's trying to say, but other times not so much. 

 "President… dumb boyyy."

 "Hy-poc-risy an' jealous… Hypocrite… I…"

 "Hand… wanna hold…" but when you grab it, he just gurgles, "Waterrr." 

 There's really no pleasing him. 

 "Why-y-y… dick… Erwin."

 "Volcano books… n' space jam… come an' sam… an'... to the jam."

 You laugh too loudly, and Mike cringes at the noise, but the corner of his mouth still lifts. You don't think he knows what he's doing or saying yet—isn't downloading any new memories—it doesn't matter because you will remember this for the both of you. 

 "You're fucking ridiculous."

 Mike pushes himself back from the toilet to sit against the wall, hissing and clumsily rubbing his chest. His shirt is wet and disgusting, and he must know on some level because he says, "Shower," and starts pulling himself over the tub. 

 "Jesus Christ, Mike."

 He's too tall, dangling an arm and a leg over the side and sinking lower. 

 "Water, pleeeease."

 He apparently isn't aware of the faucet that is still on. Whoever has to pay these bills… You feel sorry for them. 

 "No, dude. I am not letting you drown."

 Mike fucking giggles, "Lifeguard," then tries to take his shirt off. He doesn't have the motor skills to handle buttons and looks to be confused by them anyway, so his next solution is to just rip the material down the middle. 

 "Yeah, okay, I guess that works."

 The showerhead is turned on, and you sit on the edge of the tub again, shivering when the cool spray blows toward you while keeping an eye on Mike. Reaching over, you turn the temperature up a little, knowing that the alcohol has dropped his body temperature some. You're almost tempted to slide under the water with him, but there's no room, and you're not about to just make yourself comfortable on top of him.

 So, you just sit and stare and think about how tired you are. Physically and mentally and spiritually tired. You just need some time to not exist—just a few days. It feels like this semester has been nothing but drama so far, and it is exhausting. Maybe that's why Mike did this to himself. Maybe he just needed to not exist. 

 He starts to sit up a little in the tub, but his hand falters and sends him sliding back down. "Fuck."

 Not caring about getting wet at this point, you simply stand up between his spread legs, the shower drenching you immediately, and grab his hands to tug him upright. 

 "ευχαριστώ."

 "Come again?"

 "Means thanks," he mumbles, slumping forward. 

 You think of his family again, how he and his mother had just fallen into Greek as soon as you'd stepped into the house, leaving you surprised and impressed and warm in several different ways. 

 Squatting, you tilt your head to catch his half-lidded gaze. 

 "You back with me yet?" It's been nearly four hours—Fuck, why is there music playing still—but he might need more time. 

 "Dunno."

 "Can you tell who I am?" 

 Mike does his best to roll his eyes. "'m drunk, not a amnes—amnesic—"

 "Amnesiac," you supply with a smirk. Smartass.

 "That," he nods, pointing at you with a finger gun. 

 He can actually understand you now, so that's good, don't have to worry about him dying anymore since he's making progress. 

 Opening his mouth, Mike catches some water in it, swishes and spits. You expect him to tell you that you can leave. He can take care of himself, doesn't want to see you, all manner of hurtful things he has every reason to feel. 

 Instead, he blinks at you, extends his arms, and makes grabby hands. 

 "Can I help you?" 

 He doesn't say anything, just keeps reaching for you. He could grab you without issue. His fingers are already brushing your knees, but he either doesn't notice or wants to wait for you. 

 "Mike, I can't get any closer," you laugh. 

 Switching tactics, he pats his chest. 

 "Oh, no. I am but about to put myself in the line of vom just 'cause you wanna cuddle or some shit."

 Truthfully, you would also like to cuddle, to feel Mike's body against yours again, trace your fingers over his skin and listen to his heartbeat, but…

 Not like this. 

 "Please. No more vom. Promise."

 "I don't think you're in a state to make promises like that."

 He says your name followed by one more, "Please," and you give in, letting out a long breath and grunting as you find a way to lay between his legs with your head on the lower part of his sternum. You're curled a little awkwardly, one foot up against the ceramic while the other is curled beneath you. It is not by any means a comfortable position, but it's what Mike wants. 

 A few months ago, laying like this would inevitably lead to other things. Talking and joking would lead to giggling, maybe some well aimed prods to your ribs. You would bite in retaliation, his shoulder or, if the angle was right, his nipple, until he pulled you up further to sit in his lap, hot mouth finding yours, and so on and so forth. 

 This is different on every possible level. Neither of you are speaking. Your hands are unmoving on each other's bodies. There's no heat save for the water that's pouring down on both of you, plastering your silky costume to your skin. 

 Still, it's enough to lull you into a drowsy state, the ache in your eyes urging you to close them, but as soon as you do, Mike speaks. 

 "'m mad at you."

 Your stomach drops. His words don't come as a surprise, but they still sting. 

 "I know," you sigh. "I'm mad at me too."

 Your head moves with his chest, a gentle up and down that could—and has—put you to sleep. 

 "Still love you."

 You bite your lip, fingers lightly digging into Mike's warm skin as you remind yourself that he's drunk, and he hates you, and he probably won't remember any of this when he wakes up anyway. There's no reason to get emotional over it. No reason. 

 "I love you too, Miche."

 Silence closes in around you once more. You drift in and out for about half an hour until a loud knock jolts you awake. 

 You scramble off of Mike and hop to the door, leaving puddles and drops behind you. Both Nile and Erwin look panicked in the hallway, the shorter man nearly shouting, "Is he fucking dead in there?" 

 "Not deeeead," Mike calls from the tub. 

 Erwin peers over your shoulder at him, then at you, then takes on a disappointed expression. "You didn't. Come on, he's so drunk."

 "What do you—" You frown as you piece together his implication, then squawk and shove Erwin with two wet hands. "I didn't fuck him, you perv! What is wrong with you?" 

 He chuckles and bats away your hands. "I never know with you two! You can't blame me!" 

 "You're disgusting."

 "Look who's talking. Have you seen yourself in the mirror?" Erwin raises his eyebrows. "Less bunny and more… I don't know, ghoul?"

 God, you had completely forgotten about the face paint. 

 "Shut up, yours isn't much better." His black and white paint is smeared in several places like someone ran their fingers through it. The collar of his shirt is stained, and his hair is tousled. You can't tell if it's the result of getting frisky or falling asleep. 

 "Stop flirting in front of meeee," Mike whines loudly, sitting up and pushing the shower knob a little too hard to shut the water off. 

 "We're not—" You and Erwin start at the same time.

 Nile interrupts with a drawn out, unconvinced little note and informs both of you, "You guys get a little flirty sometimes. Sorry to break it to you."

 You frown at the blond and he frowns back, then you both frown at Nile who shrugs. "I'm just saying. There's a reason people are thinking things."

 It's not important, and you'd rather not dwell on it because you know the truth, and Erwin knows the truth, and Mike will if he'll just fucking listen, but he's fucked up right now, so that's a problem for another day. 

 "Whatever, we'll work on it, but for now…" You watch as Mike tries and fails to pull himself out of the tub. 

 "He looks like the girl from The Ring," Erwin snorts. 

 "Yeah, if she was giant. And, a guy," you add. 

 Wet hair is hanging over Mike's eyes, still sopping wet and dripping. He's all awkward angles as he hoists himself up, kicking a leg over and swearing. 

 "We should probably help him," Nile says, fighting his own smile. 

 "Probably."

 Between the three of you, you manage to transport Mike from the bathroom to Erwin's room on the third fucking floor which is no easy feat. Nile waits for his friend to be dumped onto the mattress, then announces that Hitch is waiting for him to come back to bed. You don't know how long that will last, but your friend falling into the same frat boy trap you did is mildly hilarious. 

 It leaves you and Erwin to make Mike comfortable. You wrap his head in a towel you found poking out of the hamper, murmur, "Hope this doesn't have anything gross on it," to which Erwin responds with an unamused look. 

 You peel the ruined, tacky shirt from Mike’s shoulders and toss it into a corner but you let Erwin take care of the rest. You've seen everything Mike has to offer, but that doesn't stop you from feeling weird about seeing his dick when he can't really stop you. So, like Mike did last year when he spilled water on your shirt, you turn your back to allow him some privacy. 

 There's some rustling and grunting, but when Erwin tells you it's safe, you look to find Mike in a pair of gym shorts, hair still wrapped, looking more disgruntled than you've ever seen him. 

 "'m still wet."

 "You sure are, big guy," Erwin agrees, slowly guiding him to lay down on his side and explaining, "You need to sleep like this, alright? Otherwise you might choke and die."

 "Erwin!" You throw your hands up in the air. "Why would you even—?"

 "Know how it works, dumb… butt."

 "Oh, dumb butt. That's a good one," Erwin grins. "Very creative."

 "Don't panotrize me!" 

 You have to cover your mouth to keep from cackling, and Erwin shakes his head, corrects, "Patronize, Mike. Patronize."

 "That's what I said!" 

 It takes a while to get him relaxed again. Apparently, Mike's favorite thing to do while drunk is run his mouth to Erwin, so while he's busy dealing with that, you raid Erwin's closet for a shirt and then his dresser for boxers. Once you are mostly dry, you snatch the towel from Mike's hair to wipe your face and toss it away, then step up onto the bed near the pillows, urging Mike to shift so that you can sit against the headboard. 

 He immediately rests his stubbled cheek on one of your thighs, then wraps both arms around the other, his fingers melting into the fat just below your ass as he grunts, "Mine."

 "All yours, buddy," Erwin assures with a grin before glancing at you. "I'm gonna pass out in the chair—" he gestures to the one in the corner of the room, "—if you need me for anything, just wake me up, okay?" 

 "Yeah, thanks." Then, "Hey, Erwin?" He hums in response. "Don't tell him about tonight, like, me staying with him."

 "Why?" 

 "I don't want him to stress out about what he may have said or done. 'Cause I know he will."

 "Whatever you say," Erwin shrugs, collapsing in the chair without even changing or washing his face. All three of you are gonna look like characters from a horror movie whenever you wake up, and the thought makes you smirk as you card your fingers through Mike's damp hair. 

 It's getting longer. He could probably put it up if he wanted to. He's been letting his beard grow a little too. You aren't sure if it's laziness or just trying a slightly different look, but whatever the case, it's hot. 

 He keeps your leg clutched tightly to him like some kind of stuffed animal until he drifts off to sleep. It's nearing five, and you know you probably won't get any quality rest while you're here, so you figure you'll just doze for a while until you can safely extract yourself from Mike's grip. He probably won't appreciate waking up like this anyway. No matter what he's said to you and Erwin—declarations and staked claims—it'll all be worthless in just a few hours. 

 A symphony of snores plays through the room, Erwin splayed out in his chair like he's passed out in a cheap Vegas hotel while Mike drools on your thigh, and if it was anyone else, you'd be disgusted and shove him away, but since it’s Mike, it’s weirdly endearing. He can slobber on you all he wants, it won’t bother you in the slightest. 

 Eventually, the sun shining through the window becomes too bright for you to even fall into a light sleep, so just as you planned, you gently untangle yourself from Mike, pausing when he grunts and frowns, but when he doesn’t stir any more than that, you manage to slip out of the bed. 

 Grabbing your phone and costume, still a little wet and cold because of it, you leave as quietly as you can. Your shoes are still in the downstairs bathroom along with Mike’s shirt, and you have a legitimate mental debate over whether you really should just toss it, but as much as you hate it, you decide against it. 

 You have to step over several bodies to get to the front door, more than usual which is concerning since the punch Eren spiked was thrown out (or really, thrown all over him), but you’re able to make it out without tripping.

 The drive to your dorm feels too long, sun beaming right into your itchy eyes the entire way. You nearly cry in relief when you finally fall onto your mattress, already well aware that most, if not all, of your day will be spent under the covers. You’re more than fine with it, allowing yourself to just not exist for several hours exactly how you wanted to.

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #tw manipulation #tw vomit

[paradoxolotl]

Can I get some Amelia? :> I feellike all my asks to you get eaten by tumblr or something cuz I never see them :( since like a long time ago

I’m behind on my asks. I’ve got some doodle requests, some song recs, one or two WIP asks, and a few AFTG asks/prompts sitting in there still.

Have another chunk from chapter one, immediately after Neil and Andrew cross paths. Some violence going on/their pasts if you look.

~~

Neil was trying to pull up Aaron’s contact while keeping the man in his vision. He stiffened when Neil took a step closer, so he stopped and held up his hands. “This is all one big misunderstanding; your kid came up to us. I wasn’t trying to kidnap her, I just didn’t want her running off.”

The man risked a glance down at his daughter, who was glaring at Neil. A nudge got her to look up, and she gave him a quick nod. The man returned to doing his best to kill Neil with just his gaze. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to touch someone without permission?” He growled.

Neil winced, “I’m sorry about that. But look, this is going to sound crazy, but I think I know your brother.”

If Neil thought the man was still before, he was frozen now. It was hard to tell, but he may have grown a few shades paler as well. “Fuck off,” he said, before turning and starting to walk away.

“Wait!” Neil called, running to cut them off while staying out of arm's reach. He could already feel his jaw beginning to bruise. “He’s coming back, please-“

Quicker than Neil thought someone his size could be, the man stepped forward and drove his fist into Neil’s gut. For the second time since this mess happened, Neil found himself on the ground. By the time Neil got back to his feet, the man and his daughter were almost lost to the crowd. At least being used to people treating him as a punching-bag made him quick to recover..

“Fuck,” Neil said.

He spotted Aaron making his way through the crowd, a staff member trailing him.

“Fuck,” Neil said again, this time with feeling.

Catching Aaron’s eye, he made a giant swooping gesture that probably made him look insane before taking off again. Ignoring Aaron’s shout, Neil weaved through bodies, looking for a flash of pale blond. Just as he was convinced that he had lost them, he broke through the crowd and saw the pair making their way across the parking lot.

“Hey, HEY!” Neil called, chasing after them.

This time, he stopped a good few feet away. Idly, he thought his team would be proud of him for learning from his mistakes. Neil was fairly certain that the man would actually murder him if he got too close, child present or not.

“What do you want?” He put himself between his daughter and Neil, his entire body screaming back off.

Neil felt his temper flare. “I’ve been trying to tell you!” He snapped. “If you would just wait, I could explain!”

The man was silent for a moment. Then, “You have twenty seconds.”

“Seriously?”

“Fifteen.”

Fuck he was serious. “I think I know your brother,” Neil blurted out again, hoping Aaron had followed him. It would be so much easier if he could just show them.

The man made a buzzer sound. “Sorry, you lost my interest. Follow us again and I will kill you.”

Neil opened his mouth to protest when he heard a familiar voice behind him, and he sagged in relief.

“Neil, you fucking asshole! The fuck are you doing?” Aaron rounded the car they were hidden behind, out of breath and glaring. “You can’t just take off like-“

“Look!” Neil cut him off, pointing at the man and his daughter.

Aaron glanced over and did a double take, his face falling slack. “What the fuck,” he breathed.

Neil felt a smug smile creep across his face, and he turned to look at the man. He was staring at Aaron with a blank face, but his grip on his daughter had tightened. She was looking between the two of them with large, concerned eyes, her hands fisted in her dad’s shirt.

“Do I have your interest now?” Neil asked him.

It snapped the man’s eyes back to Neil, but only for a moment. He and Aaron couldn’t seem to stop looking at each other, although Neil couldn’t really blame them. It wasn’t every day you met your doppelgänger.

“I-“ Aaron started before cutting himself off. “Is this a joke?”

The man fished out a pair of keys and passed them to his daughter. “Go wait in the car.”

“But dad-“

“Chick, I need you to wait in the car for me.”

She looked like she wanted to argue more but took the keys with a pout and walked over to an older car a few places down before climbing into the backseat. The three of them stood in a tense silence for a few moments, both Aaron and the man having yet to look away from each other.

Neil, having never being very good at keeping quiet, cleared his throat. “Well, this is weird.”

Aaron gave him an exasperated look, but finally seemed to get his brain working again. He shook himself slightly before holding out his hand. “I’m-I’m Aaron.”

The man eyed his hand but didn’t take it. “Andrew,” he offered after a moment.

Aaron’s hand hung in the air a moment longer before falling back down to his side. “Is this some sort of Parent Trap thing?” He asked, sounding on the edge of hysterical.

“I do not know what that is,” Andrew said.

Aaron shoved his hands in his pockets and pulled them out to cross his arms immediately after. “Parent Trap, like the movie? Where the mom raises one kid and the dad the other?”

Andrew gave a single slow blink. “No.”

“Well, something had to have happened, right? I mean, you look just like me.”

Neil caught Andrew swallow. “You’re not adopted.” He didn’t say it like a question, more like an observation. Neil had a very bad feeling, a rattling in the back of his head. He tried to get Aaron’s attention, but he seemed to have forgotten Neil’s very existence.

“What? No, of course I’m not. My mom raised me.”

“She kept you.” Andrew’s face didn’t change, but his voice had fallen completely flat. His gaze flicked briefly over to his car.

“Aaron,” Neil tried to no avail.

“What do you mean she kept me?”

Andrew eyed Aaron and Neil before rolling his shoulders back and holding out his hand. “Give me your phone.”

Aaron’s hand went to his pocket, covering his phone. “What? Why?”

The look Andrew gave him was somehow both utterly bored and could cut to the bone at the same time. “I am not going to spell it out for you.”

It took another moment of hesitation before Aaron handed over his phone, shifting uncomfortably. Andrew only had it for a minute before giving it back, and when Neil glanced at the screen he saw a new contact for Andrew Doe.

#aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court #the raven king #the kings men #andrew minyard #neil josten #aaron minyard #aftg fanfiction #aftg fic wip #para's fics #ask about my wips

[baby-n-boo]

Pink is not a girl’s color- regressor! Tommy, finally big brother tubbo, cg! Wilbur

Tommy was little. There was no two ways to put it. And, as if it wasn’t obvious enough from the fact he hadn't sworn in a whole ten minutes, His thumb was inserted firmly in his mouth as he gamed one-handedly, a small piece of paper over each of the webcams on his monitors, in case someone saw. He had finished his stream that day in rather a hurry, logging off of the dream SMP almost as soon as the confirmation came through that the stream had ended, already feeling the pull of the headspace on his mind, and knowing he wouldn’t have been able to hide it from his friends should he have fully slipped. But, for now, he was idly wandering around a solo server he had made for himself, trying to remember where he had built his home last time he had been on the server. His chair creaked in protest, as he tried to bring his knees up to his chest, resting his feet on the very edge of the seat, making him jump. It wasn’t that he was easily scared when little, but the fact he had become accustomed to the silence that seemed to surround him when he was small, since nobody ever wanted to talk to him without being mean.  

But it was ok. He could look after himself. He was a big boy, really! Mumbling to himself, around his thumb, he tried to direct his character over to the little hill he could see in the distance, not noticing the river running between himself and said mound, and promptly falling right in. At the sudden change of perspective, Tommy panicked, pulling his hand away from the keyboard like it had burnt him, in the hopes it would be fixed if he stopped. But it didn’t, leaving him arrested in fear, watching as the pretty bubbles went away, and his character started taking damage. He didn’t want the pretty red hearts to go away, they were nice!  

Whining slightly as the last one slipped away, and the death message popped up on screen, shading everything in a dim sort of red, Tommy shoved the mouse away too in frustration, refusing to respawn. He wore a stubborn pout as he spun on his chair to turn his back on the screens, just in time for a knock to sound on his door. Worrying for a moment, he yanked his thumb out, and minimised the tab, not wanting anyone to see, before calling out a “Yeah?” that sounded too loud and brash to be right, even for his normal self.  

Wilbur, poking his head through the door carefully, smiled to see Tommy not doing much, before starting to speak. “I, uh, I saw your stream ended? I was wondering if you wanted to come spend some time with real people now?” he joked, referencing how little time Tommy actually spent socialising. Despite how much he really really wanted to nod yes, and go with him, Tommy shook his head, carefully measuring his voice to reply. “Nah, you’re alright, I have masses of women to talk to.” he tried to joke back, his smile just a little too wide, the usual bravado missing from the tone, though Will shrugged it off, sure that if something was up, Tommy wouldn’t hesitate to complain about it.  

“Well, if you change your mind, don’t forget, Toby and I ’re right downstairs.” He reminded Tommy, with a slightly stern look, before ducking back out the door frame. He tried to nod an affirmation, turning as if to go back to his game, but, as soon as he heard the door click back into place, and the creak of the stairs, he pushed up off his chair, padding over to his bed instead. He wasn’t big enough for gaming, right now, and certainly not to go face his friends. Don’t get him wrong, he was glad they had offered to come over and keep him company while his parents were away for some business trip or other, but it was hard to hide his little space from them when he knew they would be watching his streams, and constantly reminding him to actually care for himself. Especially since it had saved him the embarrassment of his parents hiring some babysitter that never actually did anything, once they found out how old he was.  

Tummy rumbling as he sat down cross-legged amid the rumpled sheets, and pulled his favourite blanket out from under his pillow, Tommy whined, having run out of fruit snacks the previous night when he had been streaming till two in the morning. Normally, it wouldn’t be an issue, him just having to sneak down and grab something from the cupboards under the guise of still streaming, but he knew, as soon as he set foot on the stairs today, his friends would be dragging him into a switch game tournament, or a conversation, or, even worse, a trip to the store. Shuddering at the very thought of going outside, Tommy shook his head. No, going hungry was much better than whatever they had in store for him.  

His PC kept chiming with discord messages, probably from his other streamer friends to wonder why he had ended so fast, but he merely ignored them, balling up under the ratty sky-blue blanket, and trying to get his head to stop being quite so fuzzy. It didn’t help as his thumb crept back into his mouth, brushing against the cold metal of his braces, and he curled tighter, the scratchy material of his jeans starting to irritate him, as he slipped further and further. It was only a matter of time before something bad happened, so, desperately clinging to the last shreds of his adult mind, Tommy stumbled over to his closet, kicking off his jeans and baseball shirt in a frenzy of unstable movement.  

Once he was sure that it was all off, he glanced nervously toward the door, and quickly grabbed a bundle of material, throwing it onto the bed before someone could burst in and see it. Yanking a pair of shorts over his boxers, he quickly scurried back to the comfy area, hiding between the sheets as he fought his way into the other thing, a hoodie that was clearly multiple sizes too big, smelling of a foreign but comforting cologne. He’d picked it up from Wilbur’s bag the first night he had been here, thinking it had been his own, and had been reluctant to give it back upon discovering it, in fact, was not, something about how it made him feel small making it appealing.  

Flipping up the hood, so it fell over his eyes, Tommy giggled, flapping around the oversized sleeves in a childish manner, entertained by even the slightest of things in little space. By this point, his adult mind had entirely slipped away, replaced with the simple, cotton candy thoughts of the child Tommy now was. Confused as to why he was being so boring and lying round in bed all day, he pushed back his coverings with a smile, before gasping, looking around for Henry - his cow plush- in between the all-together too mature sheets. Black circles were just so grown up! Where were the dinosaurs? Or the racing cars!  

Temporarily distracted from his search by the thought of cars, Tommy gasped, running over to his cupboard, where he hid away all his colouring books, dragging out some nice-looking ones, and his big box of Crayola pens, giggling as they rattled noisily. Throwing them to the floor, Tommy lay down on his tummy across his rug, pushing up the too-long sleeves until he could see hs fingers. Wiggling them around, he couldn’t help but beam, it being such a silly movement, especially as they all bunched up to try picking up the slippery box of pens, only for it to bump back down. Kicking contentedly as he tried again, it wasn’t long before it was tipped upside down, the rainbow of colors spreading across the rug in a mess only a child could make, blues bouncing and reds rolling. In fact, every color other than pink.  

Not that Tommy noticed this lack, grabbing up his favourite colour, and flipping to a random page, cheering as it was a cool race car, with flames up the sides, all waiting to be coloured. Uncapping the pen with his teeth, he kept the lid in, chewing on the tip of it as he scribbled messily up and down the door of the car, smiling as it got bluer and bluer the more that he scribbled. Even if it didn’t particularly stay in the lines. Blue was nice, it was a boy’s color, like the sky, and the sea, and blue race cars that go nyoom! Will once said blue was a happy color, so that must mean it was good! Why else would he say it?  

It wasn’t like pink. Bleh, pink is a girl’s color, why would he want /that/? Pink was all flowers and dresses and bubblegum, blehhhh. Pulling a disgusted face, sticking his tongue out, which, in turn, made the lid fall out, Tommy shook his head. No, pink was most definitely not for a big boy like him. In his daydreaming, he hadn't heard the stairs creak, nor the tentative knock on the door, not realising as Tubbo crept into the room. “Hey, Tommy? Wilbur said we could ord- oh.” he started, before noticing his friend on the floor, surrounded by coloring pens. Tommy, spinning round at the familiar voice, smiled to see Tubbo, waving gently with his uncapped pen, but making no effort to get up, instead turning back to his coloring once he was done. “Well, I was gunna ask what pizza you wanted, but it’s ok, I'll just say pepperoni. Have fun with … what you’re doing.” Tubbo murmured, not wanting to disturb Tommy when he seemed so concentrated, instead shutting the door behind himself, and heading back down the stairs to where Wilbur was waiting on the sofa.

“Hey. What’d he say?” Will greeted, his laptop open to some takeout website, smiling gently as Tubbo relayed the information for pepperoni, before placing the order quickly. “Alright, that’s done, is he coming down?” he asked, shutting his laptop once he was done, just as Tubbo settled back in the armchair and picked up his switch. “Nah, he’s little.” he spoke simply, as if it was common knowledge, reopening his animal crossing island to keep fishing, like he had been. Confused, Wilbur tilted his head, brushing aside his hair as it flopped over his eyes, and let out a quiet “Huh?”, making Tubbo look up, and meet his eyes. “What do you mean little?” he asked, curiously, not understanding as the teen clammed up, looking mortified. “I shouldn’t have said that. I should /not/ have said that.” He muttered, hiding his red face behind the console. “It’s not my place to say.” he tried to wriggle out of the situation, but, with a stern look from Wilbur, he was pinned in place.  

“um...wow, how to put it...” he fidgeted in place, trying to find the words to explain to a rapidly more and more concerned WIlbur. “um...he’s thinking like a kid...not Tommy?” he tried, but, from the blank look he got back, he knew that wasn’t enough. “It’s...It’s like a response to stress? Or...or just cuz...?” he tried again, watching as Will nodded slowly. “Um...he’s coloring right now...i don’t think he wants to be bothered?” he interrupted, as Will stood, to go up the stairs. “I could...i could try to find a website to explain to you, if you wanted? I'm... I'm not too good at this.” Tubbo offered, reaching for his laptop, silently relieved as Wilbur sat back down.  

“That would be nice, actually, I'm lost.” He admitted, handing it over, and watching as Tubbo struggled to type out whatever he was trying to, eventually finding a page that seemed right. “Uh, it’s a Tumblr page but...i think it’s got the stuff on...” he mumbled, passing the brightly coloured page back over to him. Credit to him, as Tubbo watched on nervously, Will didn’t seem disgusted, reading with genuine intellectual curiosity, before sitting back. “Woah, okay. That’s intense.” He commented, letting out a deep exhale, and rubbing his eyes. “Why is he little, did you say?” he asked, but Tubbo froze. “I’m...i’m actually not sure. Tommy does it both ways, on purpose and not. Maybe the lore stream today? He did end quickly...” he commented mostly to himself, then rubbing his upper arm. “He normally comes and DMs me after if it’s been a hard stream though... maybe cuz you’re here, he didn’t want to talk about it?”  

Throwing out theories, Tubbo tried to hide his confusion and slight hurt that the little he liked to think of as his baby brother when he was in headspace, hadn't told him, chewing on his nails a little. “I do know he calls you his brother though...maybe he was shy in case you didn’t like him doing it?” he murmured, eyes flicking up to the bespectacled 24 year old watching with rapt attention. Luckily, he looked amused, adjusting his beanie. “Hey, it wouldn’t be the only time, I'm practically his older brother all the time.” He chuckled, casting an eye over the page still up on his screen. “It says here about something called...CGs?” he sounded tentative as he looked up to Tubbo again. “It does, and before you ask, No, he doesn’t have one. And yes, he really should, the chaotic doesn’t go down.” he replied, feeling a lot more comfortable now they could make fun of his friend again.  

“Should...should we head upstairs, go make sure he doesn’t like...set fire to something?” Will suggested, after a few moments of chuckling, right before a loud thump interrupted Tubbo’s beginning complaint. “Ok, Ok , maybe that’s a good idea.” he smiled, putting his switch to the side before standing. “I’ll go warn him.” He held out a hand to stop Will mounting the steps before him, smiling as he feigned offense. “Trust me, you wanna prepare for this, he might still be Tommy, but he’s... different.” Running up the stairs, best as he could, with the nerves he now had in every vein, he quickly pushed open the door, to see the little tugging at a stuffed animal wedge in a cardboard box. Carefully pulli ng it out, he easily identified it as Henry, pushing it into Tommy’s arms with a smile. “I have a surprise for you, Toms, you ready?” he asked, keeping his voice gentle as Tommy nodded enthusiastically. “Awe, good!”  

Awkward, shuffling footsteps were the only indicator Will was coming in, before he rounded the corner, with a small smile. “H-Hi Tommy.” his arms were held awkwardly in front of him, crossed across his chest like he didn’t know how to react. But it wasn’t too much of an issue, since, as soon as he saw Wilbur, Tommy jumped to his feet, running to him. “Wilby!” he cheered, hugging him tightly. “Missed chu!” he grinned, as Will hesitantly pet his hair. “Uh, hey kid, whatchu up to?” he asked, as Tubbo watched on with a soft smile, perching on the bed.  “I heard you were coloring?” he asked, looking to the teen for confirmation, as he nodded enthusiastically again, and dropped to his knees, grabbing his pens to keep going.  

“Yeah! Iz blu!” he smiled, thrusting a cyan pen to the elder one. Carefully sitting down between him and the wall, Wilbur smiled and nodded. “You’re right, it is blue. Do you like blue?” Clearly that was the right question, since Tommy started speaking, so fast they could barely get a word in edgewise, about the color, kicking his legs happily as he started to scribble again, starting to color in the fire on the side of the car now, under the watchful eye of his friends.  

Furrowing his brow slightly at the missing color, Will spoke up, after some small humming being the only thing to break the silence. “Hey, Toms, where’s your pink?” he wondered aloud, jumping slightly as Tommy shouted a “No!”, rather vehement. “No,no, no! Pink for /girls/.” he mumbled, when Will shushed him. Curious, he tilted his head, his hair falling agin, and ‘hmm’d  slightly. “Pink isnt a girl’s color, Tommy, what makes you think that?” he didn’t understand, not even as Tommy sent him a disbelieving face. “Pink...pink for princess” he struggled to explain, making Tubbo nod quietly from where he sat.  “But, I like pink, Toms, am I a princess?” he chimed in, taken aback as Tommy giggled, and nodded. “P’incess tubby!” he smiled, making Wilbur chuckle and nod. “That’s right, kid, Toby’s a princess now.” watching the teen stand and mockingly spin around, before carefully bopping Tommy’s head, like a fairy. “ding, ding, Tommy is now a kid!” he laughed, moving over to the cupboard that usually housed the colouring, pulling out a shameful looking pink tub, and placing it on the floor beside the kid. “Let’s try these ones too, huh?” Will prompted, picking up a pastel pink, and doodling a small flower in the corner.  

Tommy nodded, gently, slipping a little, pink pacifier into his mouth when nobody was looking, and hesitantly choosing a maroon pen, trying a clumsy smiley face, soon joined by tubbo doodling a bee, of course. Laughing, Will tried another flower, and a heart, wanting to keep what he did simple, making Tommy smile as a little of the ink went over his fingers. Catching the pen before he tried to draw on his own face, Will tutted gently at Tommy, his new little friend. His little...brother? Before they realised it, the scribbly car had been overshadowed by their doodles, Tommy having branched out into pink the more his friends didn’t seem to mind it being there, slowly smiling more and more, until he was giggling loud and free, fully convinced now, that Pink was, in fact, not a girl’s color.  

#agere #age regression #agere blog #sfw agere #little space #sfw #age regressor #agere community #agere little #little!tommy #little tommy #cg!wilbur #cg wilbur #tubbo #cg!tubbo #cg tubbo #caregiver wilbur #caregiver!wilbur #big brother tubbo #dream smp age regression #dsmp age regression #dream smp agere #dsmp agere

[spookyhalloweennights]

The Patterns of You (Artaruk: SFW)

First place fic for @featherednutcase featuring a minotaur doctor! I hope you love it! <3 If you like my work and want to read more, check out my Masterlist! As always, requests and matchups are open!

You had just moved into your own house, excited to have finally been out on your own in the world. The job you had snagged provided you with enough income to live comfortably, and the city that you were in was practically perfect. As your friends would say to you, you had everything going right and it seemed as though nothing could tear you down. However it had seemed that your good luck had run out, after moving completely into the house, you had gotten sick which had forced you to take a day off of work which was something you hated doing. 

After taking some over the counter medication, you had felt good enough to return to your job the next day. Only for you to wind up in bed again with the sniffles and a raging headache, you had called the doctor’s office that was closest to your home while idly drawing patterns on your skin with a pen cap. The small flower disappearing quickly as you did so, which made a smile tug at the corner of your lips. Your friends had spoken positively of their soulmates, each one having already found their partner after scribbling down where they had lived on their skin. But you, you had received nothing back when it came to the drawings, not even an inkling as to if you actually had a soulmate. If you did, they may not have cared as much about the drawings as what you did. 

The thought caused a frown to cross your features and for a moment you didn’t hear the receptionist speaking on the other end of the line. When a long sigh came from the other end of the phone, you were jolted back into reality. Apologizing quickly, you had scheduled an appointment for later that evening with a relatively new doctor. You hadn’t paid close enough attention to what his name was, you just wanted to take a nap before the appointment. Once everything was scheduled, you hung up the phone and curled up under your blanket with a box of tissues next to you. 

When the alarm on your phone went off a couple hours later, you shut it off with a quiet groan, almost annoyed that you had been disturbed from such a peaceful sleep. For a brief moment you could’ve sworn you saw something written on the back of your hand but you dismissed it for the time being as you got up. Making yourself at least somewhat presentable in a pair of sweatpants and a loose fitting shirt you grabbed your keys and headed out to your car. 

The drive to the doctors office was a short one, about ten minutes at tops and you had managed to find a parking spot close to the door. After you had checked in, you had waited in their waiting room, idly messing with different games on your phone. You paused in your game, getting an idea as you began to draw little flowers all over your arm, hoping for some sort of response from your soulmate as the image you had drawn with your nail lightly disappeared in the blink of an eye. When nothing came back, you sighed softly and returned to your game until your arm had become itchy, you glanced down at your arm with a smile. Finally you were getting a response. 

“They’re beautiful.” Was the simple phrase scrawled in sloppy cursive read. You couldn’t help but giggle at the words on your skin. 

“Thank you, it took you long enough to respond.” You wrote back, adding a small smiley face at the end of the statement. It only took a few moments before another phrase was beginning to rise up on your arm.

“I’ve been busy… I love the little notes you give me, my name is Artaruk. I may not be able to respond back, I have an appointment coming up. The work never ends.”  Was the reply, you laughed quietly, looking up as the nurse had come out into the waiting room and called your name. You stood, stuffing your phone back into your pocket as you followed the nurse back into one of the exam rooms. 

She had gone over the basic information before jotting down the symptoms you described to her. After promising the doctor would be in shortly, you began to trace little patterns along your arm, something to amuse yourself in the meantime. Finding out that you did in fact have a soulmate made your day about a thousand times better. 

There was a gentle knock on the door before the doctor had walked in, you had nearly gasped in surprise. He was a huge black and white Minotaur with small horns, smiling at you, he greeted you warmly. 

“Good evening, I am Doctor Trevino.” His voice was soothing with the hint of an accent that you couldn’t quite place your finger on. “I see you have been having symptoms akin to a cold, no?” He questioned as he looked over your file and the notes the nurse had written down. 

“Correct, it’s been going on for awhile now, I just want to get better so I figured it was time I came in.” You answered honestly, watching as he typed on the too small keyboard carefully as if he was going to break it if he pressed down on the keys any harder. 

“Since it’s been going on for awhile now, I’ll send some medications over for the pharmacy to fulfill, you should be better in no time.” He gave you a charming smile that no doubt would have other girls melting. But not you, you were just grateful that whatever it was you had going on would go away soon. 

“Thank you doctor!” You chimed, slipping off of the table that you had been sitting on in the exam room and making your way to the receptionist desk to pay for the visit before you drove to the pharmacy. 

The medication that the doctor had prescribed had worked for a short while before it went right back to square one. And the process had repeated itself several times before Dr. Trevino had made a suggestion during one of your visits. 

“Have you had the house you moved into fully inspected? Sometimes things are hidden and aren’t caught right away, like mold, if you have allergies that could be what’s making this cold linger so long.” He had mentioned to you offhand, the more you had thought about it the more it had almost made sense. 

You had called an inspector out, and it had turned out that the house did in fact have mold in it. It had put a damper on things and your wallet would take a hit with the removal fees, but that was all worth it once the house was cleared. 

In the meantime, you had finally managed to get a number out of your soulmate, finding yourself texting them at all hours of the night when they had gotten off of their shift. While you had drawn them flowers and little notes throughout the day, they had hastily scribbled down reminders that made you laugh. Your soulmate had even gone as far as to ask you to text them every so often to make sure they had indeed done the thing they needed to. 

You had asked them several times to meet up with you, and each one had been blown off as they couldn’t get off of work and you were starting to think you’d never meet them. Until they had texted you out of the blue one evening asking if you had wanted to go on a date with them the following day as they had a day off from work. You had eagerly agreed to it and he had suggested a nice café in town that you swore had the best drinks on the menu. 

What you hadn’t expected was to see Doctor Trevino sitting in a booth. You had glanced around before texting your soulmate, asking where they were sitting. When you heard Doctor Trevino’s phone go off, you grinned as he responded back to the text you had sent him. Shortly after your phone had vibrated with the new text, you walked over and slid into the booth seat across from him. A look of surprise had crossed his features momentarily before he smiled at you sheepishly. 

“I didn’t expect it to be you but this is a pleasant surprise.” He began with a quiet laugh, you nodded in agreement. 

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you Doctor Trevino, or should I call you Artaruk?” You asked teasingly, the waitress swinging by your table to take your orders. 

“Artaruk please.” He answered with a smile. The waitress appeared a few moments later with both of your drinks in hand. 

The date had gone over really well, and you had left the café in high spirits. You had talked about everything and anything that had come to mind. But the main thing had been why he hadn’t bothered to respond to any of your other questions that you had written on your skin for your soulmate to, he had soothed your worries, explaining that he had seen each and every question. But he was a bit of a scatterbrain and would forget to write an answer back, or at times he was too busy to respond. He was a doctor that traveled from one practice to another, wherever they needed him he went.

Enough so that you had eventually agreed to go out with him a second time, and then a third. But eventually, you had managed to get yourself sick again. Catching a cold from one of your coworkers had you bed-ridden for a week. Artaruk had even used some of his days off to come take care of you despite you being rather needy at times. It was worse this time around, and it almost seemed as though as soon as you had started to feel the slightest bit better, it immediately got worse again. Artaruk had scolded you multiple times as you would do things that you shouldn’t be while you were sick. 

“It’s still not going down.” He huffed, checked your temperature for the tenth time that day, a deep frown covering his features as he retrieved the bowl of soup he had made you. You hadn’t been able to keep much down other than the soup and saltine crackers that he had crushed up and mixed into the soup. 

“I’ll be fine, nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” You croaked out, your throat sore from all the coughing you had been doing, the cough drops he had gotten you weren’t helping much either. You had figured that all you would need to do was ride the storm out. 

You had propped yourself up enough that you could take the bowl from his hands, shooting him a thankful smile as you began to eat it. While you didn’t eat much, it was enough to satisfy the minotaur when you had said that you were done. 

“I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you making me food.” You sniffed, the Minotaur playfully rolling his eyes at you.

“Probably not make it through these trying times.” He huffed a laugh before reaching down to ruffle your hair lovingly. 

You smiled and shifted, scooting over in your bed so that he could join you. “Snuggle me?” You asked innocently.

For a moment it had seemed as though he was debating on if he should or not before he finally sighed in defeat. Climbing into the bed next to you, he held open his arms and you had instantly snuggled right against his chest. His fur was short but still really soft and you never got tired of messing with it when you could. He had pressed a kiss to your forehead as you finally began to drift off to sleep, the first time you had felt comfortable since getting this sick. 

With Artaruk taking care of you, considering that he was a doctor after all, you were feeling better in no time. A couple of days after he had started taking care of you, you finally felt well enough to go back to work which was something you were grateful for. Although a couple of nights after you had started going back to work, you had come home one evening to find your minotaur sprawled out on the couch with a dozen tissues scattered around the floor. He had glanced up at the sound of the door opening and merely gave you a half-hearted wave before laying back down with a groan.

“Not feeling so well?” You asked almost teasingly, setting your bag down by the door as you walked over to him and placed your hand against his forehead. He felt warmer than he normally did, so you had begun to set to work. “I told you to take the day off, call in sick and rest up but no, you didn’t want to listen to me and instead had gone into work to help them out.” You huffed at the bull who had dismissed it with a wave of his hand. 

“At least I wasn’t interacting with patients, it was just organizing the files and stuff that day since they heard me sniffing.” He sighed, reaching for a bottle of water that was on the coffee table right beside him. You could only laugh in response to his excuse. Remembering how the two of you had bickered about whether or not he should go to work, you walked into the kitchen and began to make soup for him. 

As the smell drifted throughout the small house, he gave a quiet chuckle. “Thank you.” He hummed, climbing up off the couch and walking into the kitchen, only to rest his chin on your shoulder. You laughed in response and playfully nudged him. 

“Hey now, back up there mister, I don’t need to be getting sick again, I just got better and one of us needs to be bringing in the money for this house.” You teased, Artaruk merely huffed in response before sitting down at the table. It wasn’t long before you felt the familiar itching of your arm, glancing down you noticed there was a little heart and all you could do was smile in response to it. 

“I love you too, but I think you need to listen to me better next time. Especially since I’m the one who gets sick the most.” You chided, the bull laughing in response to the statement before coughing. 

Plopping a bowl of soup down in front of him, you sat across from him at the kitchen table. He eyed the bowl warily before taking a spoonful of soup. You were going to treat him exactly how he treated you when you were sick, and you were going to enjoy  every second of it. When he was done and you had felt he ate enough, you had cleaned up before motioning to the shared bedroom. 

Once inside, he had plopped down on the bed before tugging the covers up over him. Closing his eyes and drifting off into a light sleep, you ran your fingers through his soft fur. “Sleep well Doctor, I hope this passes quickly for you.”

#exophilia #monster #monster lover #monsters #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #minotaur #minotaur x reader #minotaur lover #minotaurs #soulmates #Spooky'sWriting #sfw #spookyhalloweennights

[miceandmonsters]

Orc Boyfriend - Ronar

Male orc x female reader; 5.5k

friends to lovers; first time

You met Ronar first year of college, bonding during a particularly frustrating class taught by an elf who thought a tweed blazer made him a good teacher. What started as mostly the two of you attempting to teach yourselves the required material and swearing creatively, bloomed into your closest friendship during school--one that even lasted past graduation. It, of course, helped that you’d stayed in the same city, both finding jobs and setting up lives less than twenty minutes from each other. You texted or spoke nearly every day and hung out almost as often.

More than once, over the years, both of your families had wondered/pestered about why the two of you weren’t more than friends. Your response never varied over the years. Ronar would always shoot you a pointed look, and you’d return with an exaggerated eye roll that would make him laugh quietly, and the conversation would move on. What you had with Ronar was good. After seeing more than one of your friends from school marry and then end up broken-hearted but a few years later, you were grateful to have Ronar’s dependable, constant, warm presence in your life. And you were nearly able to convince yourself that it was enough.

Nearly.

It was the little things about Ronar that felt the most damning. His loose smile right when he was on the cusp of tipsy to drunk. How he held open doors and helped carry groceries and picked things from tall shelves for you and anyone else he ever came across in need of help. The way the artfully selected beads in his dark braided hair glinted in the sunshine. His ass in wet swim trunks--you were only human after all and you thanked every god you’d ever heard of that he was definitely not. His serious expression when he was concentrating on his work, eyebrows knitted together and one thumb idly pressing against a tusk. It all added up to you being helplessly fallen for your best friend.

You probably should have said something already. You probably should have said something five years ago, honestly. Because now it felt like there was too much momentum, you were going too fast, too steady to try and jump tracks now. Couldn’t seem to quite get that thought through your thick head, but you were working on it. Or at least trying. 

In the meantime, however, you promised yourself that you wouldn’t let your wildly inconvenient feelings compromise your friendship with Ronar. He obviously didn’t feel the same, but he was still very nearly the most important person in your life. So you were there for him, through thick and thin, doing your best to deny your heart and support him like he supported you.

You had plans to go see a movie together one night after work, when he texted you as you pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex.

‘hey. would you be sad if i don’t want to go see that movie tonight?’

You frowned and dashed off a reply. ‘not really. everything okay?’

‘work was shit. dont feel like going anywhere.’

‘why don’t you come to my place? I can make spaghetti with pink sauce’

The little typing bubble appeared and disappeared a few times as you got out of our car and headed to your front door. Just inside your apartment, you got a reply.

‘i do like pink sauce’

‘see you soon’

You dropped your purse in its usual pile near the front door and headed to the kitchen, opening up the pantry cabinet to pull down--crap. You scoured through a few other cabinets, hoping that perhaps you’d just somehow overlooked or misplaced the required ingredients. Unfortunately, you had not. You were completely out. And there were only three ingredients to begin with. You dashed back to your purse and barely remembered to lock the door behind you before you ran to your car to go to the nearest grocery store.

Of course there were a million other people also trying to get last minute dinner supplies as well at the store. But you returned to your apartment in record time, noticing that Ronar’s car was parked a few spaces down. Thank gods you gave him the spare key when you moved in. 

You stepped through the front door to find Ronar splayed across your couch, as if he’d crossed the threshold and taken all of five steps before dropping face first into the cushions. Bad day at work indeed.

“Hey, Ro,” you said in a low voice. There was some sort of muffled return of the greeting. “Had to stop by the store real fast… you good?”

His hand lifted up to form a thumbs up for a second, then dropped back down to its place on the carpet.

“Okay.” It would be amusing if he wasn’t miserable. You went into the kitchen and set about the familiar pattern of spaghetti and pink sauce. After a few minutes, Ronar wandered into the kitchen, frowning at life in general and still in his work clothes. You hardly ever saw him in a suit. It was a good look on him.

He joined you, leaning against the counter across from the stove, arm brushing your shoulder in the process.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, tipping your head to look up at him.

He loosened his tie and a long sigh. “Not really. Just… the usual bullshit.” He shrugged off his suit coat, tossing it and the tie haphazardly to your kitchen table. 

You patted his arm. “That sucks. Do you… want a hug then?”

He looked over then nodded, wrapping you in a tight hug and tucking his face into your hair. Hugging your orc best friend was one part being wrapped in the most comforting grip you’ve ever known and one part trying to hold the sun. He was warm and solid and just absolutely the best hugger you’d ever met. You hoped that he found hugging you half as wonderful as you did and at least a little bit soothing. When you pulled back--his hands momentarily sliding across your waist, you noticed--he smiled down at you.

Yeah, you were totally doomed.

“So do you want to hear my plan for tonight?” you asked, turning back to the stove to stir the sauce and keep yourself from making all sorts of embarrassing giggling noises.

“Always,” he replied, coming to stand behind you and resting his chin on the top of your head.

You chuckled, but didn’t push him off. “This will be ready in about ten minutes or so. And I have ice cream in the freezer--it might be a lil freezer burned, but I think it’ll be okay. And I noticed yesterday that that show you like is now streaming.”

“Real Orc Wives of Forik City??”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Oh HELL yes!” He immediately thundered back into the living room. “It’s no Mountain Road Dwarf Truckers, but ROWFC is a classic.”

You heard the noises of him desperately searching for the remote and then the start up noise of your tv. Never down for long, that was Ronar. You smiled down at the sauce as you kept stirring, reminding your wayward, pattering heart that he was always like this.

Shaking it off, you pulled the cheese from the fridge, sprinkling a generous handful into the sauce. Then you pinched a bit more, tipping your head back to sprinkle it into your mouth.

“I saw that,” his voice came from behind you. You glanced over your shoulder, grinning at him.

“You didn’t see nuthin’.” Then you took another pinch. He growled, tossing the remote aside, and jogged back to the kitchen, the obvious intention to steal what was rightfully yours in his eyes. “Nononono--” you protested, trying to block him by turning away and bending over to protect the valuable commodity. But he just leaned over you, laughing and easily engulfing you to snatch the cheese from your hands.

“Hah!” he proclaimed, triumphantly holding his prize over his head and out of your reach.

“That’s not very fair.” You rested your hands on your hips and frowned up at him as he grinned down at you.

“All’s fair in cheese and war.” And then he dumped half the bag in his mouth. Thinking of nothing but reclaiming the bag, you jumped up at him. Finding a foothold at his waist, you hauled yourself up over his broad shoulder as he continued to laugh. You reached for the bag that he was still holding out of your reach, but then--

Your foot slipped. The world lurched backwards. You gasped. Adrenaline shot into your bloodstream. 

But Ronar’s large arm swung around your back, catching you before you slammed against the floor. His worried face filled your vision, eyes wide and terrified. For a moment that lasted a thousand years, you both just stayed frozen in that position--him bent over and holding you while you clung to him. Only the sounds of both your heavy breathing filled the air between you two. 

Despite the nasty fall you’d almost taken, all your brain could notice was how close his face was. How close his face was, and how full his lips were. You bet that they’d be awfully nice to kiss, even better to nibble on. Your gaze darted from them up to his warm brown eyes and back down. Would he groan? Would he growl? Would he bite you back? Oh gods, you hoped he would.

Stop. This was your best friend, you couldn’t just--

All thought was immediately stopped as suddenly, without any warning at all, Ronar closed the short distance between you. It still took another full second for your mind to catch up with reality and spread the message to the rest of your consciousness that Ronar was kissing you. Ronar was kissing you.

You sucked in a startled breath. You were just starting to notice that his lips were every bit as gentle and supple as you’d ever imagined, when his eyes shot open and he pulled back with a soft ‘pop’. Your world reeled as he abruptly straightened up to standing, pulling you with him. It was all you could do to hold onto his broad shoulders and blink widely at him. Had that just actually happened?

“I’m so sorry,” he said, distraught and shaking a little. He put you back down on your feet and stepped back, hands running through his dark hair. “I don’t-- I shouldn’t have… oh my gods, I’m so sorry.”

He clapped a hand over his traitorous mouth and paced away, still stuttering half-apologies. You, meanwhile, had managed to finally put your head back on your shoulders. Ronar had kissed you. Ronar had kissed you. A very stupid grin spread across for your face for a moment, before you saw him still backpedaling and panicking. You grabbed his arm and made him face you again.

“Ronar!”

“I am so sorry, I don’t know what came over me. We can just pretend that never hap--” You stopped him by smacking your hand over his mouth.

“Do you want to kiss me?” you asked, your voice suddenly gone soft.

He stared down at you for a very long moment, you could see the gears turning in his mind, weighing the potential fall out for every answer. That feeling you certainly understood. But finally, thankfully, he nodded.

A smile broke out across your face. “Then shut up and kiss me.” 

Ronar’s eyes went wider still, but he edged the final half-step towards you. His hand traced from your shoulder down to your elbow, your waist. Achingly slow, as if he was worried that he’d somehow spook you, his head dipped down towards you. Finally, your lips met in the kiss you’d spent years dreaming about. And it was better than you’d ever dreamed.

It started gentle, testing almost--wading slowly into this new world you both had apparently been wanting to venture into. But surely, you both relaxed into it, familiarity turning novel in the best way. His hands drifted back to your waist, but quickly slipped around to draw you fully into his arms. You traced your tongue across the seam of his lips, and they opened for you eagerly. The kiss immediately turned deeper, more demanding.

You finally gave in and caught that lucious bottom lip of his between your teeth. He let out a low throaty moan that would fuel your imagination for weeks and picked you up, holding you tight against him. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist as your fingers threaded through his thick, dark hair. 

Dimly, you were aware that Ronar was carrying you through the apartment, making a beeline for your bedroom. Good. Any other destination and you might have had to stop kissing him. As it was, you didn’t stop as he kicked the door open, you didn’t stop as he sat down on your bed, and you didn’t stop as you pressed him back onto the mattress--ending up on hands and knees over him but still kissing.

He pulled you flush against him when he sat up after a minute. You hadn’t had a chance yet to change out of the dress you’d worn to work, so when he sat up you definitely noticed that he was already half-hard inside his slacks. Since he’d responded so well to your nibbling, you pressed your luck and ground against him. He groaned, and his hands moved down from your back to squeeze your ass. Oh gods yes.

Then he broke the kiss. “Is this… actually happening?” he asked, looking wide-eyed at you. You were both panting.

“Dear gods, I hope so,” you answered, leaning back in to press a quick kiss to his tusk and then down along his jaw. He melted momentarily under your attentions, but pulled back again far too soon.

“Do you… want this to happen?” His brows were drawn together in concern, and you could see more than a little trepidation hiding in his eyes. Your heart melted all over again.

You nodded and cupped his cheeks. “I’ve wanted this for a long time.” Despite the world-ending makeout you were halfway through with him, the confession came out a bit bashful. “I want you. All of you.”

A smile broke out across his face along with a breathless laugh. “I-- I thought it was… was just me.”

“That’s what I thought too.”

“We’re both idiots, huh?”

“Yeah,” you agreed quickly before he kissed you again, more exuberance than passion. But it was so wholly Ronar that you couldn’t help but love it. His hands drifted down to the hem of your dress and tugged upon it. 

“Take this off then?” he asked, his voice gone just slightly rough.

You rested your arms on his shoulders, fingers twirling through his hair. “What’s the magic word?” you replied, smirking just a little.

He let out a half chuckle, half growl that shot straight to your core and was just entirely unfair. “Take this off now,” he ordered, hands dropping to the backs of your thighs, kneading the flesh slightly. 

“Bossy,” you quipped as your toes curled. But you grabbed the hem and pulled the dress off in one fluid motion, tossing it away. His gaze swept over you, and he blew out a long, slow breath, shaking his head slightly.

“Beautiful doesn’t begin to cover it,” he finally said, eyes meeting yours now. “Damn beautiful.”

You would have laughed, but he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the hollow of your throat that somehow sucked all the air out of your lungs, out of the room, out of the world maybe even. His kisses trailed slowly south as his hands moved north from your thighs--squeezing your ass again, apparently he was fond of it--up your back to pull at your bra strap. Gods, yes. You were so eager to really get this party started. But he paused half-way through.

“Is this--” he started to ask.

“Yes!” You interrupted enthusiastically. He grinned and started to lean back towards you for more kisses. You noticed then that you were about to be nearly naked, and he was completely clothed. He kissed around the edges of your bra as you felt him undo the main strap. Somehow, despite his wondrous distractions, you unbuttoned his shirt, stumbling a little on the last few as he slipped your bra off your shoulders. 

“Take this off,” you said, tugging on his shirt and not letting him pull your bra the rest of the way off.

“Now who’s bossy?” But he let go of you long enough to unbutton the last button and toss his shirt the way your dress had gone. You’d seen him shirtless a few times before, and it’d always made you weak in the knees. Thank goodness you were already sitting as the hard-packed muscle under deep emerald green skin came into view. You threw your bra off and ran your fingers through the smattering of dark hair in the center, taking in as much of him as you could in a long, quenching gaze.

“You look like you want to eat me,” he said in a quiet voice, half a smile lifting one corner of his mouth. You simply raised an eyebrow in response and thoroughly enjoyed the surprise that washed over his face followed by a low groan. “Why in the seven hells did I not say something five years ago?” 

You pushed him back on the bed, kissing up his throat and jaw to catch the pointed tip of his ear between your teeth. His hands gripped your ass again. “Because we’re idiots, remember?” you purred into his ear. 

“Right, I forgot.” Tracing your tongue over his ear made him murmur your name, fingers still kneading your flesh. Dipping down you indulged in another long held fantasy, biting his neck--not hard enough to even bruise, just enough to not be a kiss. He let out a toe curling growl and then unceremoniously, pushed you off him and abruptly stood up. You might have been worried that you’d somehow done something wrong if he hadn’t immediately started pulling off his pants.

They were about halfway down his hips when he noticed you looking, admiring really. He grinned. “Enjoying the view?” 

You would have had a quip, you always did, if he hadn't dropped his pants right then, gifting you with the stunning view of All of him for the very first time. Very proportional, wonderfully toned, sweet-merciful-gods-was-he-actually-just-sculpted-from-marble All of him.

“Fuck,” you managed, staring wide-eyed.

He was so beautiful when he laughed. He was even more beautiful as he prowled up the bed towards you, intention burning in his eyes.

“Are you always commando under your work pants?” you asked, physically having to pull your eyes away from him for a moment.

“Does it turn you on if I say yes?”

“Yes.”

He cupped your face and gave you a look that made you know his answer was going to be snarky. “Sorry to disappoint you, I’m just between laundry cycles.”

You sighed and shook your head. “A crushing blow.”

He kissed your cheek. “How will you survive it?” Then your jaw. 

“Barely, but elegantly.” Your ear. Your neck. Words were… more difficult, but you pressed on. “They’ll… they’ll make a Lifetime movie about me. Your aunt will want to watch it.”

He paused his trail down your body to grin up at you and laugh in his throat, affection in his gaze. Then he resumed his frankly miraculous work, settling down on his stomach before burying his face into your breasts with a contented sigh. For a long moment, he just remained there, kissing softly, his breath sliding across your skin. Then he lifted his hand and took your breasts gently in hand. He rolled the soft flesh under his palms, circling thumbs over your nipples. His expression was utterly enraptured.

“I’ve been wondering what you looked like, felt like for years,” he said in an nearly apologetic tone. Your response was cut off when he captured a nipple between his lips and suckled, before nipping ever so lightly, making you jolt up and gasp in response. 

“Fuck, Ro.”

“Not yet. I want to savor this.” He punctuated his sentence by running his tongue from one breast to the other, making a very undignified whine come from the back of your throat.

“You think you’re very clever, don’t you?”

He answered by taking the other nipple in his mouth and sucking soundly while looking up at you. Damn, that should be illegal. Then he pulled back with a soft ‘pop’. “You love it.”

Your fingers threaded into his thick hair, and, in lieu of saying something terribly honest right now, you pulled him back up for a bruising kiss. He settled down next to you, and his fingers plucked at your underwear.

“You mind if I take these off?” he asked, running a finger just under the band.

“Please.” And finally the final barrier between you two was removed. He caught you in a deep kiss, tongue caressing over yours artfully, as the tips of his fingers traced up your inner thigh. His hand cupped you, making you groan into the kiss--it’d been so damn long since it was anyone else’s fingers down there but yours. Much less anyone that you’d wanted like him. Then he parted your folds, both of you sighing as he discovered how wet you already were. His forehead rested on your temple as he carefully mapped you, skimming and teasing and making you whimper all at the same time.

He started indirectly, taking the undulations of your hips and soft cries as guidance for how you wanted to be touched. You gripped his arm, curling in towards him. Gentle yet insistent, his fingers circled your clit, building sparks of pleasure that were quickly catching flame. But still, it wasn’t quite enough.

“Ro, please,” you whimpered, pressing a needy kiss to his jaw. “Please. I--I want you inside me.”

He shifted his hand so a thumb was pressed to your clit and you sighed a long breath as he slipped one finger inside you, thick enough to feel filled with just that. Still--

“Not what I meant,” you huffed, rocking your hips to set a tempo.

He chuckled and kissed your hair. “I know what you meant. We’ll get there. But I want to see you cum first.” You looked up, meeting his intense, hungry gaze. “I want to know that I was the one who made you feel that good.” That made you clench around his finger, and he sped up the pace a little more. 

You were so close already, you could feel the coil tightening in your lower stomach. And though his plan sounded pretty damn good, you wanted to do something first. You wrapped a hand around his heavy cock that was trapped between you, and he groaned. 

“Cheater,” he hissed, his hips bucking as his fingers stilled.

“You knew this already. You’ve played Battleship with me.”

“Longest Sunday of my life.”

In retaliation, he added a second finger inside you and pressed against your front wall, distracting you thoroughly from anything else other than his wonderful fingers.

“Ronar,” you cried, your voice quivering as a shudder ran down your spine. Nearly there--

“That’s it. Cum for me, love. Please.” Somehow it was the ‘please’ that finished you off. Your orgasm shot from your core, cascading down your limbs, making you clench and let out an inhuman noise as you quaked. But Ronar was right there, holding you through it, coaxing every last bit of pleasure from you. 

Till eventually, you grabbed his hand, stilling his movements immediately. He kissed your temple again and slipped his fingers from you, just holding you as you panted and came back down to earth. Somehow in all your fantasies, you hadn’t thought about how wonderful this part would be. Afterglow felt very literal in his arms. Ronar was wrapped around you, his lips on your temple, his fingers tracing a mindless pattern across your hip. It was just so good. Eventually, drowsily, your eyes opened, and your hand skimmed up his arm. He was smiling when you looked up at him.

“Was that good?” he asked, honestly. “It looked good.”

You chuckled and nodded. “It was good.”

“Good,” he said, kissing you softly and pulling you closer. His hand slipped up into your hair as he kissed you, again and again, never rushed, never hurried. He was an even better kisser than he was a hugger or anything else. You thought for a minute that you could happily die here, just spend the rest of your days being kissed by Ronar and held in his arms. Till you shifted closer to him and you felt his still hard cock brush against your thigh. Ooh, right, you had better plans than even this.

You spread your legs just enough for him to slip between them, and he pulled back with a hiss. His breathing had just shifted to something deeper as he looked at you.

“Ready to go again?” you asked, smirking a little. Your hand trailed down his side to mimic his earlier actions across his hip, so close but not quite there.

He nodded. “Please. I want… you. I want you.” There was such earnestness in his eyes that you stopped teasing him for a moment, and, in fact, you had to kiss him for it. But the time for sweet and slow was over for now, this kiss was heat and desire and left you both breathless.

“How do you want me?” you asked between kisses you pressed along his jaw.

He pulled you on top of him and then sat up--the casual show of his immense strength was still toe-curling--putting you at eye level with him in his lap. “Like this?” he asked, a hand cupping your cheek. “I want to see your face.”

“Gods, Ronar…” You shook your head and laughed just a little. 

“What?”

“You! You’re just…” You struggled to find a word to encapsulate it all, but had to give up. “Wonderful doesn’t even begin to describe.”

His thumb stroked your cheek for a moment, then he added, “How about damn wonderful?”

That made you laugh as you kissed him again, your arms wrapping around his neck. He groaned as his length was trapped between you, but he just held you close. Then suddenly he jerked back.

“Crap, do you have any condoms? Or--or…” His eyebrows knitted together in worry. “I guess I can run down to the store--”

“Ro,” you said, stopping his worry spiral. “I’m on the pill, it’s okay.”

“Right.” He heaved a breath and offered you a lopsided smile in apology.

You chuckled. “You really think you could have fit back in your pants right now?” To emphasize your point, you took him in hand and circled your thumb over the head.

“It wouldn’t have been--shit, oh don’t stop--p… pleasant. But I’d do it for--” The sentence drifted off as you lifted yourself up on your knees, moving with obvious intent. 

Ronar’s eyes were wide and wondrous as he looked up at you, both of you hovering in the moment of anticipation. You memorized his face, never wanting to forget it at this exact second. Then you sank down upon him.

It was a slow process as even with your preparation, he was still larger than anyone else you’d ever been with and you weren’t looking for any painful sensations right now. But you found yourself slowing down even more just to watch the revelations wash over Ronar’s face. Pleasure looked perfect on him. 

It was more than a minute before he was fully inside you, your hips flush to his. He pulled you close, hands rubbing across your back as he murmured gentle half-phrases of encouragement and compliments. 

You took it slow at first, more rocking than anything else. Just focusing on every sensation that you were feeling right now--his hands on your back, his breath on your neck, his chest pressed to yours. Though you were going for barely a minute before he whispered, “Wait.”

You immediately stopped, meeting his gaze. “You okay?” you asked.

He nodded. “Just changed my mind.”

You didn’t have a chance to be concerned as he quickly lifted you up and set you back on the bed, leaning over you and kneeling between your splayed thighs. “Mind if I lead?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You smiled. “By all means.”

He kissed you once more then guided himself back to your entrance, pressing in slowly and watching your face intently. But you were ready for him--desperate might have been the better word. When he was fully sheathed, you pulled him down so he was resting on his elbows. You were surrounded, protected, safe and adored under him. And as he rocked into you, a relieved sigh left you. His gaze never left yours as he built up a rhythm and you did your best to match it. But soon he out paced you, so you hooked your heels around his waist and let him wash over you. 

You couldn’t believe that this was finally actually happening. You’d wanted him for so long and now here he was--in your bed, between your thighs, looking at you like you were the world’s most beautiful sunset as he was driving you to your second earth-shattering orgasm of the evening. The waiting and the longing and the heartache just made it all seem so much sweeter as he dipped down to kiss you.

“Ronar,” you whispered, your voice tight with emotions and delayed gratification. “I--I--”

“I know, love.” He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes closing and brows furrowing in concentration. “I’m so close. Can you wait for me?”

Your response was just a high-pitched whimper that quickly turned into a prayerful chanting of his name as his pace suddenly picked up. Your grip tightened on his biceps as he neared his peak and you were teetering on the edge of yours.

“Please, please, please, please,” you whined through gritted teeth.

He caught up to you with a kiss, sending you both over the cliff in each other’s arms. You shuddered and cried out as he spilled into you with a heavy moan. For a moment, everything  was radiant and glowing and perfect. It was just Ronar and you. Even as reality filtered slowly back in, the world was better than the last time you saw it, surely. It certainly felt like it was.

Ronar relaxed momentarily on top of you, and there was something deeply safe and secure about feeling the weight of his body on yours. His cheek brushed across yours, back and forth, for a minute, and he let out a deeply contented sigh.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, starting to pull himself up and off of you. 

“Don’t be. I love this.” And you pulled him back down. His arms slipped under you to hug you tightly, his face buried against your neck, tusks pressing against your skin.

You stayed like that for several minutes, his arms around you, your fingers tracing soothing patterns across his broad back and occasionally slipping up to comb at the ends of his dark hair. It was deeply peaceful there. Though the sound of some very angry hissing coming from the kitchen broke the quiet atmosphere.

“I think dinner might be ruined,” you said with a chuckle.

He lifted his head and grinned down at you. “We can always order something.” He carded his fingers through your hair. “Or I could, um… take you on that date I’ve been meaning to ask you to for a long time.”

A corner of your mouth lifted up. “How long?” you asked, intensely curious.

The deep green blush across his cheeks got a little darker. “Since the first time you rolled your eyes.”

“Wasn’t that like twenty minutes after we first met?”

“Approximately. Yes.” You would have laughed if you didn’t see how serious he was. Oh. He dipped his head to brush his lips across yours. “How about you? Or was it when I kissed you back in the kitchen?”

You shook your head slightly. “Remember back in junior year where we stayed up all night talking at the picnic table and then got donuts right when the shop opened at 4 am?”

He nodded.

“You had whipped cream on your cheek and bags under your eyes. And the sun was rising behind you. And that was it for me.”

Warmth bloomed in his eyes, and he smiled. “Guess I need to make up for lost time then. Can I take you out this evening?”

“Please.”

Masterlist

[Thanks for reading my first monster boyfriend! <3, mice]

#monster boyfriend #monster lover #orc boyfriend #exophilia #orc #lemon #friends to lovers

[there-must-be-a-lock]

wings & the way down - part 1

Spencer Reid x Derek Morgan

The Moreid high school AU! In which there will (eventually) be pining, misunderstandings, identity crises, and general teenage shenanigans. 

Word Count: ~1520 this chapter. 

Warnings: Awkward boys flirting awkwardly. 

A/N: Title from a Ray Bradbury quote: “If we listened to our intellect we'd never have a love affair... You've got to jump off the cliff all the time and build your wings on the way down.”

This is shaping up to be long. Oh boy. Please let me know if you want to be tagged in future installments! 

Thursday, January 2 - Spencer

“Checkmate.” 

“Yeah, I thought so.” Spencer examines the board and frowns before movement catches his eye.  

Gideon is pointing out where he went wrong, but Spencer isn’t paying attention any more. Losing to Gideon isn’t a particularly novel or interesting experience, and there’s something — someone — much more interesting walking into the park. Spencer crosses his legs, shifting on the bench to rest his elbows on his knees, and watches. 

It’s cold for Vegas, 60ish and breezy, but the guy is wearing short sleeves like this isn’t his usual January. New in town? But Spencer hasn’t seen anyone moving in. Visiting family for the holidays, maybe. He’s got the look of a newcomer: carefully cultivated confidence, studied swagger covering for the unease that always comes with foreign territory. 

There are other things, too, things that Spencer tries not to notice: biceps rippling under the short sleeves, long skilled fingers spinning a basketball idly as he walks, a bright white flash of a grin when he sees Spencer staring —

Spencer is staring. Crap. 

He looks down at the chessboard much too quickly — there’s no way it comes off as anything other than guilty. He glares daggers at his bishop as Gideon clears his own pieces away.

“Rematch tomorrow?” Spencer offers, trying to keep his eyes on the board. “School doesn’t start until next week.” 

“Can’t tomorrow, going up to the cabin. Call you when I get back.” 

“Sounds good.” 

Spencer sneaks a stealthy glance, only to see the guy grinning in his direction, and he averts his eyes again, blushing furiously.

Gideon barks over his shoulder, “See you soon, Doctor Reid.” 

The nickname makes Spencer smile at Gideon’s retreating back, but then he looks down at his lap and remembers he’s sitting criss-cross applesauce, wearing his fraying Converse and his mismatched socks — one covered with yellow dinosaurs, one argyle. He sighs to himself. Gideon treats him like an adult, but most people sure as hell don’t, and Spencer can’t exactly blame them. 

“You wanna shoot some hoops?” the stranger calls out, and Spencer doesn’t look up, because he’s obviously talking to someone else, except…“You in the Chucks! Pretty boy!” 

That makes Spencer look up fast, because he assumes it’s sarcastic; it’s the sort of stupid thing the jocks at school might yell, right before they ask him if he wears women’s underwear, or something. There’s no trace of malice on the guy’s face, though. His smile is so bright it’s hard to look at. 

Something warm and awful curls in Spencer’s stomach. 

“I don’t really — I don’t do hoops,” he mutters, averting his eyes again. 

The guy takes the seat opposite his, sprawling out, taking up space. Spencer hunches in on himself, poking at the beginnings of a hole on the faded knee of his favorite jeans. 

“I could teach you.” 

“Given my lack of hand-eye coordination, I really doubt that,” Spencer tells him, which gets a laugh; eyes sparkle, a dimple creases his cheek — he smiles with his whole face. 

“I’m Derek. Derek Morgan.” 

Spencer raises one hand in an awkward wave. “Spencer. I’m — Reid’s my — Spencer is me. That’s my name.” 

Yikes. 

“You from around here?” Derek asks, twirling the basketball on his fingertip, showing off casually. 

Spencer nods and then blurts out, “You’re not. Morgan — is that like the Morgans on Lake Road?” 

“Sure is. That’s my auntie and uncle. I’m staying with them for a bit.” 

“That’s roughly zero point three miles from my house,” Spencer tells him, but when Derek raises his eyebrows, he remembers that walking around aimlessly, memorizing the names on every mailbox because you can’t stand being at home, is not a normal childhood pastime. He continues hurriedly: “Where are you from?” 

“Chicago.” 

That makes sense. He’s cool in the way that Spencer would imagine people from big cities to be. He seems… jaded isn’t the right word for his smile, but experienced, maybe. Sophisticated. Comfortable in his own skin. Sure of himself. 

Everything Spencer is not, basically.

Also, Spencer is staring again. 

“Do you like it here?” he asks. “It must be… different.” 

“That’s an understatement. Toto, we are not on the South Side any more.” A shadow of sadness flickers over Derek’s expression for a moment, like a cloud across the sun, before he smiles again. “It’s good, getting a change of scenery. You know?” 

Spencer doesn’t know, because he’s never been farther away than California, but he says, “Yeah.” 

He tucks his hair behind his ears and then picks up his castle, turning it over in his hands just for something to do. 

“I’ve never actually played chess, but aren’t there supposed to be more pieces?” Derek asks. 

“Gideon likes to use his own pieces, I like to use mine,” Spencer tells him. It’s a sensory thing, for him; he likes the feel of the warm ivory, and Gideon prefers his own heavy stone set. 

“Gideon?” 

“Professor Gideon,” Spencer amends, wondering how to explain that. “I… took a class with him? At UNLV. That’s sort of how we met, but… we play chess.” 

That’s the short version, anyway. 

When Spencer decided to find a cure for schizophrenia, at the age of fifteen, he started by reading everything the local library had on the subject. When he was done there, he started sneaking into the college library. Gideon was the first person to realize Spencer wasn’t a student, but he didn’t call security; instead he offered to let Spencer audit one of his advanced psychology classes in the evenings. Spencer has taken all his classes by now, and Gideon jokes about him earning his Masters before he finishes high school. 

“Want to show me around the neighborhood?” Derek asks, and Spencer blinks at him for a second. 

“You were going to play basketball.” 

“Sure. But you said you don’t ‘do’ hoops.” Derek gestures at the empty court. “Nobody else to play with. Playing with myself gets boring.” He laughs at his own joke, and then his eyes sparkle, devilish, as he says, “I’d much rather play with you.” 

Spencer chokes on nothing, and somehow he makes things even worse by asking shrilly, “Are you flirting with me?”

Derek grimaces. “If I say yes, am I gonna get punched?” 

“Like it’d hurt you even if I did.” 

“Then yeah,” Derek says sheepishly. “I was flirting with you.” 

Spencer stutters for a few incoherent seconds before he recovers from that particular world-ending shock. Then all he can say is, “Oh.” 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. If I was wrong about — if you’re — do you?” 

He cannot possibly be asking what Spencer thinks he’s asking. 

“Do I — play for that team?” he ventures. Derek shrugs, and Spencer can barely breathe. It feels like he’s paralyzed for a second before he can croak, “That’s not — you’re not wrong.” 

“Just to be clear, we’re not talking about basketball any more.” Derek is grinning again. He has a really nice smile, and Spencer needs to stop staring already. 

“Yeah. We’re clear,” he manages. 

For a second they just smile at each other, and Spencer has this swooping sensation in his stomach like he just missed a step, except the disorienting moment of uncontrollable vertigo feels good. 

“Sorry. I’m not used to — this is new to me.” Derek seems almost bashful now, looking down as he starts to toss the basketball from one hand to another. “Being able to admit when I’m… flirting. With a guy, I mean.” 

“I’m not used to being flirted with,” Spencer counters. He clears his throat and adds, “I don’t mind it.” 

Derek doesn’t move his head, but his eyes flick to Spencer. His smile is hopeful and happy and more than a little shy.

“Anybody ever tell you you look good in pink?”

“Huh?” Spencer frowns down at his sweater, which is… yeah, still definitely blue. 

“You’re blushing.” 

“Oh.” He presses his palms to his feverish-hot cheeks. “That makes sense.” 

This doesn’t happen to Spencer. Flirting doesn’t happen to Spencer, let alone flirting with someone who looks like that. There’s a bubble of reckless exhilaration swelling in his chest, helium-light, threatening to lift him off his feet. 

“So, how about it?” Derek asks. “Want to show me around?” 

Spencer nods, way too eagerly. “I could do that.” 

And that’s when his phone rings. 

He knows what it means, before he even looks at the screen, and all that giddy excitement drains away at once. 

He pulls out his phone: Mom calling. He doesn’t pick up yet; he doesn’t want to have this conversation within earshot of Derek. 

“I have to go,” Spencer says miserably. He sweeps his chess pieces carelessly into his bag, slings it over his shoulder, and gives Derek a helpless shrug. “I just — really need to go. Can we — tomorrow? I’ll be here. Tomorrow. Same time.”

“No worries,” Derek says, with a rueful little half-smile. Spencer turns, starts running, and he almost misses it when Derek says, “See you tomorrow, pretty boy.” 

Spencer doesn’t let himself look back, but he smiles. 

He flips open his phone on the very last ring and says, “Hey, Mom. I’m on my way.” 

.

.

Part 2 is here! 

.

#criminal minds fic #spencer reid #derek morgan #Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid #moreid #moreid fic #cm #criminal minds

[strangestdiary]

under your spell | nandor the relentless

relationship: Nandor/Fem!Reader

request: Hi! Are you still taking requests? If so can I request a jealous!Nandor x reader? 

words: 2.7k

warnings: Angst, asshole dates, fluff

A/N: I feel like the jealousy isn’t really there but I hope you still like it. 

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

---

Nandor noticed there was something different about you today. Having come for his daily visit just as it went dark outside, you had only given him a hello before stalking back over to your closet to nervously comb through your clothes asking what looked better before throwing it into the steadily growing pile. You kept sighing to yourself, mumbling under your breath that you needed a little more color in your wardrobe. He found it strange how urgent you seemed to be, the sweat beading on your forehead being proof enough that you were working yourself up over something seemingly very important to you. 

Since you were Nandor’s first actual human friend in a few centuries give or take he couldn’t help but feel like he was out of the loop, confusion and curiosity pecking at the back of his head. He shifted his legs so they crossed, leaning back in your desk chair and watched as you groan yet again, running your hands over your face. 

“So what exactly is all of this about?” Nandor asked, your frenzied state leaving a tinge of worry as he watched you. Watching you take a blouse he had never seen you in before off it’s hanger with a sigh mumbling how ‘this should do’. 

You glanced over at him, noting how it would almost look like he was floating if it weren’t for the pink back of the desk chair poking out from behind him every so often when he moved from side to side idly. “Chloe set me up on a date with her friend, I sort of know him from when he would come hang out with us sometimes.” You turned back around to your closet again, kneeling down to look for a pair of shoes that would actually look decent with the shirt clutched in your hand. “This is the first actual date I’ve been on in like a year so I’m kind of freaking out if that wasn’t already noticeable.” Your tone of voice was heavy with self depreciation, a chuckle following afterwards to smooth it all down. “He’s nice though. I just hope I don’t screw it up.”

Nandor swore he almost felt his dead heart sink a little, a date? “Interesting.” Was all Nandor found himself saying, he was kind of shocked to even think of the idea of you going on a date. Sure he knew you had human friends and that you didn’t just talk to him or Nadja but it was hard to think of you going on a date with someone. Even then he couldn’t help but scowl, why would some human you barely knew be more important than him? He could offer far more than some weak mortal that your friend had paired you with. Nandor wondered just how interesting this man had to be in order for you to skip a night with himself. 

Nandor’s bitter train of thought was cut off by your voice “I hope you don’t mind. I mean I know we usually have movie nights tonight but he said that tonight was the only good night for him.” You sounded so genuinely apologetic.

Nandor shifted in the small chair as you awaited his response “It is okay. I will just ask Guillermo to watch the Pet Semeteries with me instead. You can go on your little human date.” His response was a lot more defensive than you had hoped, it made your stomach knot slightly, feeling bad for flaking on Nandor without warning. Especially since this was your designated movie night. You couldn’t help but still feel bad though like in a way you had betrayed him especially since Nandor was one of your closest friends, someone you usually told everything to.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you Nandor.” You walked over to him, his head tilting up only barely to look up at you putting on a closed smile that didn’t meet his eyes. A strange aching feeling growing in his chest, even with your promise he still couldn’t help but still feel disappointed. You were giving up your time with him for some puny human man? He wanted to hiss at the thought. 

“It is okay, I understand.” He stood from the desk chair and patted you on the bicep twice, a certain awkwardness to the gesture. “Now if you excuse me I will make my way back home, I have important things to do as well.” The tone of his voice completely betrayed what he was saying, blatantly trying to guilt you out of the date all together. 

You couldn’t help but smile up at him, feeling a distant ache of your own resting in your heart. “I’ll see you tomorrow Nandor, and to make up for skipping movie night I’ll let you pick out two movies to watch.” Before he turned his back to you and walked out the door you grabbed his hand, his cold skin comforting in your night of nervousness “I really am sorry.” 

Nandor’s eyes were on your joined hands, a certain fluttering feeling ripping through his stomach. “I- It’s okay.” His gaze lifted up to catch your eyes, a soft smile stretching across his lips before slowly releasing your hand from his own. “I will see you tomorrow.” 

----

You had finally gotten ready after Nandor left and drove to the restaurant you and Daniel were meant to meet at. This wasn’t your first time meeting him but it was the first time you had been alone with him, usually Chloe being there as well as some other friends. 

He had seemed kind and caring and like he was genuinely interested in you when Chloe was around, and according to her he had practically begged her to score this date with you. You had liked him then but when he sat himself down in front of you now, there was something different about him. The smile he gave you made your skin prick uncomfortably but you brushed it off thinking it was merely first date jitters. 

You smiled back at him, looking at him fully. “You look good.” you complimented truthful in your words, noticing how the grey button up he wore brought out the freckles sprinkling his skin. His hair was styled nicely, looking soft and fluffy. You noticed his nails were painted notably a while ago given how chipped the black coating was now, it reminded you of Laszlo for a second. 

He looked at you over the top of the menu, a brow raised in question “Thanks.” He replied with a slightly cocky tone, setting the menu down in front of him. “You look nice too.” He gestured to you.

You felt your chest swell with pride, maybe tonight would go a little better than you had previously thought. Your nervousness melted away in the moment as you glanced down at the menu. 

Though unfortunately it wasn’t long before Daniel began to show his true colors, slipping in condescending remarks and a teasing chuckle any time you would talk about something you were interested in, only to cut you off to talk about him more and more. You couldn’t help but sigh audibly as he droned on about his extensive research on war history, specifically the second world war, it almost made you think Colin had somehow learned how to shapeshift but you also knew that Colin had the decency to at least be a tad bit respectful. 

“So what’s your favorite film?” He asked, “Mine is probably pulp fiction. You know the way Tarantino just knows how to make a good film is just amazing.”

You shrugged your shoulders lightly, mulling over the question “I don’t know, probably something horror, it’s hard to choose.” 

Daniel groaned before shaking his head “I don’t understand why people watch that shit, I mean why do people want to get scared on purpose?” He smiled over at you, “I mean seriously it just seems stupid. I personally hate horror movies, and the gore.” He let out a sigh and shook his head again as if disgusted with even the idea of horror movies “I just don’t get how people watch that stuff without feeling sick.” 

After that it just seemed like he wouldn’t stop talking, topic after topic he dominated with his overbearing opinions. Anything you expressed interest in he would belittle, undermining them and making them seem lesser than his own, and yet he still smiled over at you as if you were supposed to be having fun. 

“How about we get outta here? I can take you back to my place.” He reached over the table to grab your hand, you instinctively pulled away from him. Disgust settling like a rock in your stomach. “Come on, don’t act like that.” He chuckled. There was something in his eyes that unsettled you more than anything that night. “I could show you a really good time.” He reached for your hand again, fingers wrapping around your wrist blunt nails biting into your skin.

You grabbed your bag, backing up in your chair feeling your eyes sting, wrenching your wrist out of his hand. “N- no that’s fine actually. I have someone who’s coming to pick me up.” You stumbled over the chair leg a little when you stood ignoring his exasperated huff before trying to convince you to sit back down. You shakily tore money from your wallet not even bothering to count it before throwing it next to your unfinished drink and rushing away from the table. 

----

You burst through the gothic Staten Island home with a sob, having held it in the whole drive to the house as a way to avoid crashing your car. Relief briefly filled you as you noticed there was nobody in the foyer to witness your much less than presentable state. With how quiet the home was you assumed nobody was even home, but either way you still rushed to Nandor’s room hoping to seek some type of solace after your disastrous night. There was a certain lightness that you felt in your heart at the thought of Nandor being there for you, a flutter in your chest. 

Once you opened the door you couldn’t help but let out a relieved sigh that he was standing at his antique writing desk that you had bought him as a birthday gift just two years ago. He spun on his heels letting out a surprised gasp “Is it Halloween already?” he said before noticing it was just you. 

You let out a teary laugh sniffling grossly, Nandor did a double take before realizing the messy tears and black streaks running down your face. A certain type of rage settled over him like a shadow, who had done this to you? His kind and caring human trembling at his door. 

Nandor walked over to where you stood grabbing your hand gently and ushering you over to the small loveseat sitting in the corner of his room, more of a decorative piece than used for actual comfort. You didn’t miss the dust that picked up around the both of you as you sat down. “What creature did this to you?” There was a darkness in his voice, a threatening look washed over his features. 

“Daniel…” You spat, the night replaying in your head. For a second you had wondered if you were overreacting. Maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal and you were pushing it out of proportion, but you couldn’t help but feel that disgusting crawl on your skin where he had touched. He had seemed like such a nice person the other times you had met him, why was he so different now? What had changed? 

Nandor remembered now, your human date that you had been so nervous about a few hours prior. He felt one of his hands curl into a fist, a certain type of anger he couldn’t place overcoming him. Some worthless human had hurt you this badly, the pain he wished to bring this Daniel was unthinkable. 

You sniffled again wiping your nose with the back of your hand before forcing out a pitiful laugh, a painful sound to Nandor’s ears “I’m sorry for coming here… I’m probably just overreacting.” You shook your head at yourself before giving him a strained smile,. “He was just a jerk... I’m probably being stupid.” 

Nandor’s dead heart aches when hearing you speak, why were you sorry? You were clearly hurt so why did you feel so apologetic when someone else had hurt you. “It is not your place to say sorry, Y/N.” Nandor reasoned. His hand came up to cup your face, thumb raking over your stained cheek. “I am here if you wish to tell me about your date.” He almost sounded reluctant to say the word itself. 

You smiled at him a few more tears slipping from your eyes at his gentleness, a complete contrast to the other man you had tortured yourself with, but you guessed it wasn’t your fault. “He was awful.” You started “And he didn’t shut his mouth. All he did was look at me like I was a piece of meat.” You vented to Nandor for almost two hours, his attention never venturing away from you. He gripped onto every word you said, not even interrupting to say a quip of his own like usual. 

Once you were done and your second round of tears had finally dried Nandor smiled at you sweetly, his thumb caressing the top of your hand. “Well if you would like. Maybe some night I could take you on a real date.” You tensed up a little, taken by surprise yet again that night, but for a completely different reason. 

Never in your time knowing him had you ever considered the possibility of Nandor uttering words quite like that. He wanted to go on a date… with you? A human? He looked at you with such sincerity you felt your heart swell. You had suspected your feelings for Nandor for a while now but never even thought about pursuing them given how your mortality circumstances. You had always assumed he would look down on something so taboo as a vampire dating a human. 

“You look like a soul sucking ghoul just entered the room.” Nandor commented squeezing your hand in his. 

“Those exist?” You couldn’t help but ask, a laugh following. You felt winded looking into Nandor’s adoring eyes. “I didn’t even think you would be into the whole human vampire thing.” His face twisted slightly before smoothing back over.

“I wasn’t really… Not before I met you I’ve come to realize.” He said “I’m not one to judge but it wasn’t really my type of thing, but after Nadja had brought you to the house for the first time. Then when we actually became friends, well I guess my perspective began to shift.” Your stomach felt like it was doing flips, a smile coming to your lips. 

You intertwined your fingers with Nandor’s, nodding your head after considering his heavy hitting words “I would love to go on a date with you Nandor.” Your eyes were stinging once again “I mean in a way I’m sure I’ve always had feelings for you since we first met.” You confessed thinking back to the time you saw him for the first time only four years ago, your nervousness and Nadja’s encouraging words before hissing at Laszlo who assumed you were meant to be food. 

Nandor hoisted you up off the dusty loveseat with a wide smile spreading across his face “Wonderful! Let’s go.” 

“What right now?” You asked as he dragged you towards his bedroom door and down the hall to the foyer where Colin was rounding the corner. It only took a second to remember how messy you probably looked, knowing your makeup was probably ruined and stained against your cheeks. 

“Yes! There’s still three more hours until daylight!” Nandor enthused, grinning at you over his shoulder. 

#nandor the relentless #nandor the relentless x reader #nandor x reader #nandor imagine #nandor the relentless imagine #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows x reader #what we do in the shadows imagine #wwdits imagine #wwdits #my writing

[selfilluminatingkyu]

Dancing with the Devil(s): Chapter II

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The Underground Auction is no place for the faint of heart, nor for the weak of stomach.

F!Reader x Adult Trio; this takes place during the same timeline as Season 3 of HxH but the events with Kuropika and the crew are just shifted a little. This may end up changing though, but for now, run on that premiss. 

Warnings: Swearing; Human Trafficking (Reader is sold to the Mafia); Brief mentions of Child Abuse; Grammatical Errors (yeah I am going to warn y’all bout that.) 

Upon arriving to hotel you would be staying at until you were moved to the holding area for the auction, you were whisked away by a team of women and pampered to spa treatments like you’d never experienced before. The Don who had bought you would not be in attendance, as Yuuto, the man who you’d come to know from your…acquisition…had told you. 

“He’s sorry he can’t be here. He was actually looking forward to meeting you. But he’s certain he’ll have the opportunity later on. I think he’s of the opinion that one of the other Dons will buy you for themselves…or their sons.” Yuuto says lazily after you’ve come back from all of the pampering, undecided if you’re going to look at it as a treat or getting merchandise ready for sale. 

You didn’t know what you’d expected when he’d relayed the Don’s message to you, but it had not been that. You don’t remember how you answered, sudden exhaustion creeping up on you and causing you to nearly pass out where you stood. Looking back on it now, you wonder if you’d been drugged so that you didn’t make much of a fuss while you were waiting for the festivities to begin. You began to think that was actually the case as you were almost constantly in a fog up until you were moved the night before the auction to a different area. Something was amiss, that much, despite the brain fog, you were certain of. So there you had waited until d-day had arrived. 

You had been placed in a waiting area, to be called upon and showed around to the representatives of the wealthier families anticipated to bid on the higher ticket items (and those who had paid the hefty fee to view you prior to your scheduled debut) when Yuuto was suddenly coming in with another man, a man you had never met before but had a strange feeling to him, and were being whisked away quickly and quietly from where you were. You had felt this feeling before, when you been in the presences of those with strong nen abilities, but it wasn’t as potent as some of the people you’d crossed paths with. There had been a man once, who’s aura had caused you to stop and watch his back as he moved through the crowd. The power that radiated off of him had caused your heart to skip several beats…and not in a pleasant way. 

Since that day, you’d never felt power like that and, if you were being honest, you hoped you never did again. You don’t know what it was about that man, but it wasn’t the power he undeniably wielded that frightened you, no, it was the dark and sinister undertone to it that did. A presences that indicated to you nothing short of nefarious intentions. Sometimes though, you couldn’t help yourself and wondered about the man. Wondered if maybe you’d been to harsh in your snap judgment and that the man was the same as you: a product of his upbringing and while his abilities may have been fostered from dark ways, he did not use them as such. 

But as you sat in your new room, surrounded by other items that were going to be up for auction, you realized that it didn’t matter, not anymore at least. You hadn’t seen that man since then, some three years ago, and you doubted you would ever see him again after tonight. Not that you were sure you would even want to. Pushing the thoughts to the side, you stood up from your spot and began wandering around the room, looking at all of the pieces that were up for auction and wondered what was the most expensive item in the room when suddenly you heard shouting and gun shots, you could hear people running around as men shouted in the hallways. What they were shouting about you couldn’t understand but you knew from the tone that they were in a panic and it sounded like chaos even from inside the room. 

Turning back to all of the items in the room, you began looking around for something, anything really, to protect yourself with. Crouching down you, began peeling the lids off of boxes, before hastily putting them back into place. One after the other had weirder and weird things in them; rare items, cursed items, artifacts from long gone civilizations, mummified body parts, full mummies, and in the last lid you lift, scarlet eyes. The lid clattered to the floor as you dropped it, dropped into a squat and throwing a hand over your mouth to keep you from screaming. You had heard about the atrocity that had happened to the Kurta clan, heard the stories about their famed eyes, but to see a pair, not attached to a body, was an experience you could’ve lived several life time without. 

Placing the lid back onto the box, you bit back a whimper and sent a silent prayer into the sky, hoping that whomever these had belonged to had suffered unnecessarily. Your heart went out to them and the pain all those alike. The unnecessary violence of the world was something you had never understood, especially in this instance. While you could not lie, they were beautiful indeed, to covet something like that to go to such lengths made your stomach flip. It took a special sort of evil to find pleasure in the pain of others; it took an even greater evil to personally inflict it, knowing a life was on the line and continue forward and unabashed anyway. 

As you sad crouched, hidden by the stacks of boxes, the door flung open and before you could even lift your head up to see what was going on, you were being cloaked in darkness. 

The void wasn’t so much as being asleep as it was being locked into a padded closet, a sound proof one at that. There was no telling how long you’d been in there and after counting for several hours, you’d given up figuring at some point, you’d get out. Not wanting to alert the person, or persons, who had taken the auction items that you were included amongst those things you remained silent. Instead, you bided your time by looking through the items, investigating and continuing your search for a weapon, smearing a little of your blood from your finger, which your cut on a ragged corner, on the boxes you deemed worthy of a least inflicting enough damage to give you time to escape should your search turn up entirely useless. As you continued to move forward, you were beginning to think that’s exactly what was going to happen. You were nearing the end of boxes when you came up a necklace that caught your eye. Looking at it, you idly wondered exactly what was so special about it. It was inlaid with millions of dollar worth of precious and rare gems like the other piece you’d come upon. Nor was it something anyone of note had worn, died in, or the like, making it precious for those reasons. No, as far as you could tell, it was quite unassuming compared to all the other items you knew were to be sold and that, in and of itself, made you move cautiously. The silver chain was nice enough were you any common person purchasing it from a jeweler and the stones that rested in a sort of star pattern were lovely but again, it perplexed you as to why it was here. 

Sighing, you placed the lid back down and moved onto the other boxes before coming up empty and with that you flopped down onto the ground, or what you assume was ground in this…where exactly where you? The only thing you had heard when everything happened was a swoosh like a bag…so maybe that’s where you were? Yuuto had made a comment about the Dons having special beings at their disposal, beings who were incredible nen users. So maybe who’d ever taken you was one of them. You weren’t entirely sure and as it stood, you didn’t want to risk the element of surprise you currently had on something that might be true. For all you knew, whomever had caused the stir-up the other night had been the person who’d taken you. And if that were the case…you had no way of knowing if they were friend or foe. 

Trying to run through a plan in your head of what exactly you would do when you got out where ever it was you currently were, your “world” began to shift and suddenly the abyss you seemed to be sitting in was brought back into the world of the living and you were among not only the items in your own void, but the other items that were up for auction as well, and there were voice, several of them and all of them foreign. 

“That was uneventful.” A soft voice spoke, seemingly to take breathy pauses between each word, almost like when a compute regurgitated what you’d typed but lagged a little. Male, older than you, but not by much, he was close to you but hadn’t seemed to notice you yet. 

“Yeah, yeah, we heard you the first dozen times. You didn’t get to torture the guy like you’d hoped. We got it.” Another male voice, this one more jovial spoke but clearly agitated with the younger male. “How long you think this is gunna take?” 

“Don’t know. The boss just wants it done, so we’ll get it done.” This voice is female and you think that maybe she’s around your age or close to it. She’s the closest one to you and drawing closer with every word she takes and suddenly you’re wondering if you’ve been caught and begin calculating what is closest to you and within your reach. 

You don’t get much further in your thought when you feel a presence come up behind you and a sudden pressure on your neck, nicking it slightly causing you to wince and let out a small hiss. You wonder how you missed this man sneaking up when you suddenly feel a spike of fear run through you veins. The man behind you is powerful, very powerful but his aura is also very sinister. Sinister enough to almost make you wish that you’d been left alone to be sold. 

“Well, well, well, what do we have here? A stowaway? My, my little dove, what a peculiar place to hide. Hoping to catch a show?” He whispers in your ear and the whimsical way in which he speaks almost makes you forget that he’s holding something against your neck that’s sharp enough to slide the skin, but clearly not metal as it’s not cold. 

“Hisoka, what are you doing?” The female voice from earlier sounds again and some part of you hopes that, despite clearly knowing this man, she can be a friend in this situation rather than a foe…which this man seems to be shifting into. 

Nudging you forward with his other hand, keeping the weapon close enough to make his intention known but not enough to draw anymore blood, you begin to move forward, legs and heart heavy. Unintentionally, you’d gotten your hopes up when you’d been freed from the void and hadn’t been placed back in your holding cell, thinking that maybe fate had smiled upon you. However, now, you knew that maybe you’d been cast into an even worse situation than you’d been in initially. You couldn’t be certain that these people were going to be your end…but you also couldn’t say to the alternative either. 

“Look what I found.” The man named Hisoka says, amusement laced in his words as he brings you out of the proverbial shadows and into the light that is provided by the stage and you idly realize that the auction has started back up, meaning at some point your number will come up and your clock will run out. It’s also in this moment as you watch the stage that you realize that the people in front of you are staring, probably because someone has said something to you and you have yet to respond. 

“What did you do to her Hisoka?” Another man asks, he’s handsome with his blonde hair and green eyes, but there’s something about him that makes your skin crawl and a take a step back into the man who’s guiding you forward. 

“I didn’t do anything, did I little dove? I simply found her hiding in behind some boxes. Impressive abilities to have been able to hide from us, don’t you think?” Hisoka says, startling you slightly from his face being beside yours. Turning slowly, you look at him and find that you aren’t entirely wrong when the words whimsical and magical came to mind as he spoke. 

He’s clown yet mystical in his appearance, his pink/red hair plays right into that, as does the small amount of clothing you can see. But what makes it is the lime green tear and blue star that reside under his  eyes, like cards of a suit. It’s also then that you realize what he had pressed up against your neck was a playing card. What a peculiar man, you think idly before turning your head completely forward again. 

“Regardless of whether you did something or not to her, it doesn’t answer why she’s here and what the hell should be do with her.” The girl’s voice from earlier that you heard comes from a girl who truly doesn’t seem much older than you with pink hair and an outfit that reminds you somewhat or a nurse’s attire. As petit as she might be, she radiates with power, as do the rest of the people here, but in a quiet, probably underestimated sort of way. 

“Maybe…she was willing…to risk her life…to see…us.” The small man who walks forward does not match the face you had seen in your head when you’d heard his voice initially, not that you are displeased, as he too is quite attractive. However, the look in his eye and the clear bloodlust in them makes you want to run from where you stand. The other man earlier had said that this little one had been unhappy with the amount of torture he’d gotten to inflict on someone else. 

Was that to be your fate? 

“Maybe Feitan has a point.” And finally, the only other person you heard speak steps forward. This man is just as tall as the man behind you and just as intimidating, however, he looks far more normal. “Were you willing to risk your life to catch a glimpse of the illustrious Phantom Troupe sweetheart?” The way he says it is clearly mocking, like you’re some fucked up fangirl who’s come to worship her even more fucked up idol. 

However, to worship someone, you should probably have an idea as to who they are in the first place. And you don’t think you can make it any clearer as you furrow your eyebrows and look around at the small group of people before you wondering if this is a name they’ve given themselves or one that was given to them. Either way, you try your hardest not to laugh at the hilarity of the situation you find yourself in. Are you biting back a hysterical laughter because of the ridiculousness of the situation or because you’ve come to realize just how absolutely fucked you are? 

“I’m sorry, but…am I supposed to know what that means? Phantom Troupe? I take it that means you all, but…I don’t know exactly what that means outside of that.” You say thoughtfully, hoping that if you appear non-confrontational and innocent enough, these people, who clearly more foe than friend, will simply let you be. 

The man who spoke last goes to open his mouth again before another woman walks forward, holding up her hand and making her way closer to you. She seems the most normal out of the entire lot, dressed as the presenter for the items for the auction tonight, although that’s clearly a farce because you knew the woman who was truly supposed to be doing it was much different in appearance than this woman. 

“What do you mean exactly?” She asks you thoughtfully, watching you carefully and you can’t help but wonder if she has some sort of ability that lets her read your mind…or maybe between what you say. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause confusion. I mean…I don’t know who you people are. I don’t know what is or who is the Phantom Troupe? So that would mean no, I wasn’t risking my life trying to catch a glimpse.” You say and she looks to the others before nodding and looking back towards you. 

“If you weren’t trying to catch a glimpse at us…then how did you come to be here then little dove?” Hisoka asks and you blink, trying to decide how you should go about answering them before deciding that the saying “the truth can set you free” may very well prove true in this moment. 

“Same way the rest of the items in that area did, out of where it was they had been stored.” You mutter, looking around the group as they seem to parse through what you’ve just told them. 

“You were with the items over there?” The blonde man in purple says and you nod, watching as he looks to the woman who arrives late. She nods at him and the group seems to collectively be trying to decide if you’re an item or were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time when everything went down. “So if you were with the items, then it’s safe to assume that you are one?” 

You nod again and the group seems to pause for a second before the small man who you think had been called Feitan, steps forward and speaks up. “I think we should kill her.” 

Under normal circumstances, a normal person would probably lose the color from their face as those words were uttered. Instead there is an instant cleansed feeling that takes over you. While death certainly isn’t the choice you would have had for yourself in life…you don’t know what being bought and sold would entail. However, on the flip side, you also have no idea what being left to your devices with this lot will also mean. Maybe death is the best option you have, so long as it isn’t drawn out and torturous. And if the little one is who will be dealing the final card…you aren’t so sure you’ll get a quick end. 

“The boss said to make copies of all of the items here and to present them on stage and bring the real ones back to the hideout. You know that as well as I do.” The pink haired girl says and Feitan clearly does not agree with that as he makes a noncommittal noise that alerts you to his distaste. 

“Koropi can’t make duplicates that move and talk.” The final girl says. Her speech is childlike and she cocks her head as she looks you over, as though you are a puzzle to be solved. At some point, between when you’d been pulled out from behind the crates, when they’d first started engaging with you and now, a vacuum like thing had appear in her possession and the sight of it has you thinking that if they do decide to kill you, your death will not be quick and painless like you had hoped. 

The Phantom Troupe, not all of the members you deduced after listening to them go back and forth for a little while as to what to do with you, finally decide on calling their boss and having him instruct them as to what should be done with you. The answer is simple: make a clone and do what they had done with all the other pieces, place it on a cart and wheel it in. Koropi had stated that while in most instances, he could not create something that moved and talked, he could if it were just one and he had a little something extra. The extra being your blood. 

With that, he could create a clone that would last for a little while before the effects of the blood would wear off and your clone would become like the rest of the fraudulent items. But at that point…what did it matter, the Troupe would no longer be around. 

So as you watched the woman Pakunoda wheel your clone onto the stage, you and the rest of the real items were moved, Hisoka and Machi keeping close to you as you were moved into the back of another car and driven to wherever their “hideout” was. 

As you watched the scenery, you began to run through all of the possibilities of what could happen. They had given you no hints as to what their boss was going to do with you and you couldn’t decide if that was a blessing or a curse. A blessing in that it meant if he’d decided that he was going to kill you, you would not be left to stew in it on your ride over, wondering endlessly in what way exactly he planned to off you. 

On the other side, however, was the fact that you had no idea what your fate was at this moment. Undecided if these people were going to kill you, keep you, torture you, or do god know’s what. That in and of itself was driving you mad. You simply wanted to know what exactly it was that you could expect when you got to wherever it was you were going so you’d be mentally prepared for whatever the outcome ended up being. 

“If you keep working yourself up like that, you’ll be in an absolute tizzy by the time we arrive. He won’t kill you…not right away anyway. And if he does, well…he won’t make it painful. He can be ruthless, but he’s not that evil.” Hisoka said and you looked at the imposing man beside you, wondering why he seemed to be trying to calm you down. 

From the short period of time you’d spent with the man, you had quickly grasped that he was most certainly the odd man out from the group, and by his own doing it seemed. Not only that, but it was evident that he didn’t do anything he didn’t wish too. He had motives behind every action he took and the way he went about things was with the sole purpose of achieving a goal that benefited him. If, by some chance, it happened to benefit the group as well, well then that was lovely for the group. 

So his concern caused you pause. What exactly was it that he saw in your that would benefit him? It made you question even more what was about to happen. What end could he see that you couldn’t? It wasn’t fair given that he knew exactly where, who, and what you would be up against when you go there, but still…there was just something about this situation that didn’t sit well with you, outside of the obvious reasons. 

“You seem very sure of that.” You say softly, looking out the window before turning back to look at him. You know they’re confident in themselves and their abilities, that’s evident by the fact that they have neither bound you nor covered your eyes or ears. They must know with absolute certainty that you either won’t try to escape…or won’t make it out alive. 

“I am. You pose not threat to us or him alone, nor do you have abilities that he would want—”

“Hisoka. Enough!” Machi, the pink haired girl, spits from her spot in the driver’s seat, eying you through the rearview window. “What Hisoka means to say is the Boss doesn’t kill without purpose. And your death would serve no purpose. However…that doesn’t mean you get to leave.” 

You take what she says into consideration and nod. That wasn’t anything you hadn’t already figured out. Regardless of who they were, all organized crime groups worked essentially the same. Mafia, Troupe, Gangs, ect. the thought process around them was same at the end of the day, give or take a few things, so you’d figured their own boss would run his ship the same way any other master would run theirs. Evidently, you hadn’t been mistaken in that thought process. 

The two seemed to realize they weren’t going to get much out of you after that and the car remained silent for the rest of the ride. When you pulled up to a lofty mansion with a gate and sprawling grounds, you were shocked to say the least. This was not what you had expected in the least. What you had expected was some rundown abandoned building on the edge of town away from everyone. This lavish grandeur was not it though. 

Leaning forward in your seat a little, Hisoka chuckles beside you. “Not what you were expecting little dove?” 

You didn’t bother answering instead, looking around at what you could. You didn’t see a single guard around, not that you had expected to. There didn’t seem to be any visible forms of traps or delays anywhere either. Again, they may just not be visible to you. The car pulls to a stop in front fo a set of double doors and two men walk out. One who is very large with scars on his face and the other who is tall, and just as imposing as the other, but carrying a katana. Hisoka reaches around you and opens the door, nudging you to get out as the two men walk further down the steps and closer to you. 

“Pretty sure the boss said to only bring back the auction items.” The larger man says as he eyes you carefully. 

“She was an auction item.” Machi says monotonously, coming around from the front of the car and indicating with her head to walk inside. “She’s the prize gem of the auction this year. The last item to be bid upon in the first round. You know what that means.” 

Both men seem to do a slow blink as you walk in between them and up on into the house. The entryway is beautiful, something that you would have done for your own home given the opportunity. You didn’t know if that would be an option in your future, but it was lovely to witness it nonetheless. As you walked further into the home, you highly doubted that they had decorated and then you wondered if they had acquired this home via legal ones…or by force. The thought alone dampened the beauty of the home and your internal smile fell. The look on your face remained neutral, giving nothing away and hopefully kept all of your fears and anxieties under wraps from the knowing eyes all around you. 

“I don’t remember saying anything about bringing a person back.” The voice made you stop dead in your tracks as it brought your focus to the other person in the room and your heart stopped before leaping into action. While you can’t see him, nothing more than the back of his head with his slicked back black hair, you can definitely feel him. This aura, this presence was familiar to you and the exact one you had hoped to never cross path’s with again. Sucking in a breath you hopelessly wondered what you’d done in a past life to exact this fate. 

“You said to bring all of the auction items…naturally…” Hisoka says, a smirk ever present in his speech, making you wonder if he has always been like this or if something in his life triggered this manic personality. 

The man they’re speaking to stands up and for a moment, you almost close your eyes, fear racing through your veins and irrationally making you think that if you don’t see him, don’t see his face, he won’t be able to hold that over your head; won’t be able to use that as a reason why he has to kill you. But you don’t, instead you stand stock still, like a prey praying the predator won’t snuff them out, and await a fate you doubt you’d have be able to change regardless of what you did. Instead as he rounds the sofa, you cast your eyes down, tilting your head slightly, like a submissive dog baring its throat to the alpha and hope by some miracle, this man will see you are no threat nor of any value you and let you go. 

You see feet stop in front of you and feel an ever perceptive gaze rove over your. You hold your breath and pray for mercy to any being that will hear your cry, good or bad. You don’t care, maybe even hope a little that it’s bad because surely…that would be the only type of being to defeat another of its own kind. Slowly a hand reaches out and you have to physically stop of nerve in your body from flinching. Two fingers press under your chin, the thumb resting on it as it corrects the position of your head and lifts it upwards, forcing you gently to look at the face and body it’s attached to. 

The man before you is much, much younger than you anticipated, no more than a couple years older than yourself. He’s attractive, very much so, with a prominent brow and perfect nose, large grey eyes and chiseled jaw and chin. When the members of the Troupe hadn’t spoken briefly about their boss, you had not pictured a man like this. No, initially it hadn’t been a man at all. But when they’d said “he” the vision in your head had mirrored much more closely to the man with the scars on his face and hanging ears. This man, young man, reminded you more of the grad students you saw on campus than the leader of a group of murders and thieves. 

“You know me…but did not expect me.” He voice flints about like it’s a question but their absolution in the way he says it, eyes calculative and ever watchful. 

“No, to both. I don’t know you, I have crossed paths with you before. You were in my city once, you walked by me while I was walking my sister home from school and I felt your aura. I felt crazy when the people around me didn’t seem to have a reaction at all but my entire being felt…dark.” You let your mouth get away from you before you realize it, remembering that day and how your parents had written you off. Strong Nen users weren’t common where you were from, or at least weren’t common in the fact that they flaunted their abilities. But you’d known this man was in a class of his own. Clearing your throat you blinked and cleared your eyes as you looked at him again. “And no, I didn’t expect you. Although…I’m not entirely certain what I did expect. I’m not entirely well versed in you and your ‘Phantom Troupe.’” 

The latter seems to take him and the new men by surprise. He masks his shock quickly, the other two seems to revel in it. So much so that the man with the katana begins to laugh. 

“You’ve never heard of the Phantom Troupe? Really?” He says in such an incredulous way that you almost begin to question the statement you’ve made before stopping yourself. 

“I lived quite a sheltered life so you’ll have to excuse my ignorance.” With that, they all seem to be appeased for the moment. 

The leader cocks his head to the side as he observes you before looking at the others in the room. “Help the others unload everything. While you all are doing that, I’ll have a chat with our…guest. Should you need us, we’ll be in the study.” He says and they nod, some of them grumbling as they move to go back outside. 

Although, as you are turned and ushered in the opposite direction, you notice Hisoka waiting and standing back from the group, eyes clearly on you as he watches his boss lead you in the opposite direction from them, him. There’s something in his eyes that you think resembles concern but wave it off quickly as you are certain you must be seeing things. 

Their leader was not kidding as he lead you into a large study, a room filled with books from wall to celling on one side and floor to ceiling windows on the other. There’s also a fire place, large desk and two sofas, with matching chairs and coffee table to round out the large room. It’s beautifully decorated and again, you wonder who this home actually belongs to. 

“This place isn’t your, is it?” You ask before you can stop yourself from biting your tongue and instantly feel the back of your neck heat up. 

Slip-ups like these had been common when you were younger, your natural curiosity getting the better of you. But your mother had beaten them out of you quite early on, as talking out of turn was undesirable in the wife of a high ranking man. Women were to be seen and not heard, is what you mother had told you prior to smacking you in the face. You’d learned quickly that you did not like the taste of blood in your mouth and your questions could be answered by other means. 

“It is actually. Not that it is used all that often. I bought this house some time ago. Why, did you think we had killed the people who did own it?” 

“Yes, that seemed the most logical give what little I have learned about you and yours.” He seems taken aback by your truthfulness but recovers quickly, chuckling softly under his breath. 

“According to you, you don’t know much about ‘me and mine,’ so how is it you’ve already deduced so much about us?” His question is simple enough, but there is a definite edge to it. Despite his relaxed demeanor, even as he leans back against his desk, arms slayed as if to seem nonthreatening, you can still feel the aura rolling off of him, ready to strike at a moments notice. 

“Because, for the most part, all organized crime groups run the same. Their motives might be different, and the way things are executed may vary too. But at the heart of it…there isn’t much difference.” 

“You speak as if you have experience?”

“Not quite, no.” Again, you are surprised to find that this man seems stumped by your answer but he smirks all the same, looking down at his crossed feet before back up at you from behind his fridge…and you can’t help but wonder how many women—and probably men as well, he doesn’t strike you as the discriminating type—have fallen prey to that look, they eyes, they posture and speech…like a fly in a spider’s web. 

“Care to enlighten me?” He asks gently and had you not been training for situations like this your entire life, you know you too would fall right into his web as well. 

“If you’ll pay me back in kind.” You are completely taken aback as the man laughs. It’s melodious and were you not in such a position as you were, you would have smiled and giggled yourself, ever hopeful to hear it again and again. It was a lovely sound and one you were certain he probably didn’t make often, and for that you became even more on edge. 

“Alright, consider my interest even more peaked. Who are you and why exactly has the mafia deemed you as such a valuable item to be sold?” His question shouldn’t stir-up so many emotions as it does, but as the saying goes, you are only human and the wave of emotional turmoil his question strikes in you leaves you almost gasping. 

“I’m nobody really and honestly…I don’t know what it is exactly that has everyone’s interest so peaked. Maybe my parents lied. I’m not entirely certain. All I can tell you is…is that I’ve been raised to be the perfect wife for a powerful man. My parents raised me for the sole purpose of elevating their status, their wealth, their power. You asked if I spoke from experience? While I obviously was never in a position as the wife of a crime lord, I was raised to be one and I prized myself on being an asset, not a burden. As for whether or not that alone makes me worth all of the money that the Don who bought spent on me and anticipated on being spent to purchase me…I could not tell you.”

After you complete your story, you look up from looking at your hands to see the man before you looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face, one that brought Hisoka to mind and you wondered why you kept envisioning these men to have forlorn looks on their faces. That was simply absurd and thinking like that was only going to lead you to getting seriously injured, or worse dead. No, you had to remind yourself their were worse fates than death and you had no doubt that the little one, Feitan, was more than well versed at serving that up with delight. 

He nods his head and rubs his chin, walking from his desk and over to the couch across from your own. Sitting down, he rests his elbows on his knees before looking up at you. “Tell me what you know about Nen?” 

His question throws you off a little and you furrow your brows, not entirely tracking where he’s going with this. “I know that it exists and that it has multiple subsections of it and that it’s predominately used to fit. But other than that not much.” 

“Can you tell when others have it? A strong Nen that is?” He looks at you intently as he asks and you wonder what exactly is this man’s capabilities. 

Hisoka made a comment about you not having “anything for the boss to take” and at the time, you’d given it no thought. Thinking maybe, Hisoka had meant it in a sexual way, thinking that at your age you were no longer virginal, which he was wrong about, that was one of the key selling points for you. Property to be completely dominated and never claimed by other man. Now, however, you wondered if it somehow was linked back to this man’s nen ability. 

“Yes, as I said earlier, I had felt your aura before. I can usually tell when people have a strong presence, or not. Even when it’s faint I can feel it. Usually that’s in children though or those who have no idea what Nen is. Might I ask why exactly?” 

“What about now? Can you still sense my aura?” He asks and you sit there, looking at him as though he has six heads. 

“Of course I can…why wouldn’t I be able to?” You ask him incredulously and the look of awe on his face is so prominent you know that you couldn’t have imagined it. 

“You can still see feel my aura?” 

“Yes, I’d have to be dead not to with how strong your aura is. I don’t like it.” You say, and wonder how you’ve managed to make two mistakes in the span of only a couple of minutes in this man’s presence. Deciding to go with it, as this may very well be your last day, you resolve yourself to say and ask whatever comes to mind. “I also don’t like that I don’t know your name.” 

If your first comment hadn’t thrown him, the second one certainly has seemed to and he looked at you again as if you are some wonder of the world. Eying you suspiciously before getting up and moving around. He says nothing as he walks outside the room and then comes back moments later, motioning for you to stand up. 

“If you can pass this test, I’ll tell you my name and much more.” As he says that he holds up a sash and proceeds to tie it over your eyes making sure you can not see before leading you out of the room. 

“Is this where I die?” You can’t help but ask and you can hear the breathy chuckle next to your ear. 

“No, it’s not. If anything, this may very well be the moment in which you start to truly live.” 

You continue to walk for a little bit, before he stops you, instructing you to leave the blind fold on and, probably, checking to make sure you can’t see anything. There are several people in this room, more so than earlier. And you wonder if this is all of the troupe. 

“Tell me…how many people are in this room?” He asks and you sigh. 

“Including you and I, there’s 15.” 

“And now?” He asks and this time you let a loud, exasperated sigh. 

“No one has suddenly dropped dead, so the number still remains at 15.” At that, the voices in the room seem to pick up. To say they seemed shocked is an understatement. 

“How is that even possible?”

“Has anyone like that ever existed?”

“I wasn’t…taking this…serious…let me have…another…go.” 

And so on and so forth. As more and more time seemed to tick by, the group seemed to become more and more in aw of what was going on. All the while, you were still confused and in the dark—literally and metaphorically—as to what had just happened that had them such in arms. 

“You still didn’t answer my earlier question.” You say softly, knowing he can full well hear you above all of his members questions. 

“Chrollo. Chrollo Lucilfer. That is my name kitten and you are far more extraordinary than anyone has ever given you credit for. I can’t wait to see just what it is you are fully capable of.” 

#Dancing with the Devil(s) #fic #hunter x hunter #Chrollo #chrollo fic #hisoka #hisoka fic #illumi zoldyck #illumi fic #reader insert fic #adult trio #adult trio fic

[lollytea]

Fearless (part 1/3)

(Ty/Louie fairytale au fic. i am simply a bitch writing about my au and my oc so it is all very catered to me personally and im aware not a lot of ppl will read it. but if you DO read it, i love u so much. i guess tw for blood/serious injuries relating to teen characters. nothing too graphic but be warned. Also if you’re curious, info on the au here, here and here.)

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[OCTOBER 22ND, 6:19PM] The sky was bleeding pink and orange and Louie tried to focus on it. Didn't take much brainpower to appreciate a sunset. He clung to the sight with desperation, muttering the simplest thoughts under his breath like a mantra.

It was pretty. He liked sunsets. He liked pink. He liked orange. The distraction wasn't working. The unpleasantness that was already writhing in his stomach churned. His finger was on his temple, idly tracing delicate circles against the tightly wrapped bandage. His head hurt. The point where his shoulder met his upper arm was also dressed. The stitching still had to heal up. That hurt too. Louie was pretty stupid. Which was not something he usually thought. But it was a real kick in the confidence when someone sharp-witted did something stupid. And it was a real kick in the heart when someone who didn't wanna hurt anybody ended up hurting somebody. This was stupid. He had already tried reading as a means of distraction. Too hard. Too many words. Way too much of a strain on his mild concussion. This was so, so stupid. Sitting by his windowsill, he hoped this dumb bandage would be gone soon. His forehead felt sticky and damp with sweat. He was stupid. He wished Webby were here. If she were, she'd be in the courtyard below his window sparring with Dewey. At least then, Louie could watch and keep his mind occupied. No. No, that wasn't right. If Webby were here, she would've attached herself to Louie by now, hugging him tight until his injury healed. If it had been any other incident, Louie would let her, crumbling into her arms and whimpering about the pain as his amazing, magical sister made it all ebb away. But this wasn't any other incident. If Webby were here, he wouldn't be able to accept her hugs. The very idea rubbed him the wrong way. If anyone was entitled to healing hugs, it wasn't Louie, it was--.... His face twisted up. Webby wasn't here. She was off on some quest with Lena. Probably wouldn't be back for days. So there was no point in dwelling over hypotheticals. Louie would heal on his own. They were both gonna have to heal on their own. The sunset was fading.

It was pretty. Pink... Orange.... He couldn't do this. 

Why was he doing this?! Louie always knew himself to be a coward but this was to a pathetic extent. Depraved even. He felt sick. 

He couldn't. He just couldn't. Every additional second he spent hiding in his room was weighing him down. It was suffocating. But he couldn't leave. He was too scared.

Freezing up just like always. Just stop being so fucking scared! He would have to confront what he did eventually. There was no way around it. So, why couldn't he just go now? Louie had far worse things in his life to be dreading. Far worse. A ticking clock of trepidation was seated deep inside him. A predestined future he couldn't rewrite which, on all accounts, should render him paralyzed. But he wasn't. This was the sort of thing to demolish him. Apparently. Stupid. This shouldn't be overdriving his other senses. This shouldn't be flooding his mind. He shouldn't be drowning right now. This shouldn't have his hands shaking. This shouldn't have him pacing the length of his room. This shouldn't be stealing the oxygen from his lungs. His brain was pounding against his skull, protesting his rapid back-and-forth movement. He was dizzy. He shouldn't be crying. Fuck it! He was always crying, who cares about that?! Just stop panicking, just stop crying, just stop being so selfish for once and just own up. Louie's back crashed against his door, gasping for breath. Stars were blotting his vision and he couldn't breathe and it was the end of the world. Okay. Okay. He was spiraling again. That was all it was, it would be okay. It would be okay. The prince's bed chambers, alive with the choking sound of contained distress, subsided to complete silence for just a moment. Inhale. Exhale. And then all to be heard was a small, crackling voice straining to sing himself a quiet little lullaby. ___________ [OCTOBER 22ND, 10:07AM] "Your highness, don't be an idiot. You can't just---Hey! Wait up!" "H'oh boy..." Louie's eyes flicked to the high heavens. Right now he felt like he was tasked with personally escorting this goddamn boy across this goddamn forest by the goddamn ankles. He whirled around impatiently, crossing his arms with a flourish. "Pick up the pace, Tiberius. We don't have all day." "Can you maybe not be a huge pain for like... I dunno, five minutes?" Snapped Ty, his dearly devoted retainer and most notorious pain-in-the-tail. "Can you maybe loosen up? Y'know it's a real mood killer when there's a paranoid guy on my case all the time, insisting that the whole world is out to get me. Being constantly reminded of my fragile mortality? Woo, talk about fun times." Scowling, Ty stumbled his way over a protruding tree root. "You've got a bad habit of attracting danger, you know that, right? I'm pretty sure it's a Duck thing." The remark slapped the annoyed expression right off Louie's face. Ty quirked an eyebrow. "What's that look for?" Before he could further analyse, Louie sharply turned on his heel and strode on. "It's a Duck thing." He said, keeping his tone even. Both of them knew it was a Duck thing. Ty just didn't know the half of it. "Your highness," He heard Ty gripe. "You know this is a bad idea. A prince shouldn't be out in the open like this without proper protection. And I'm unprepared right now. I can't--" If Ty weren't yakking so much, Louie wouldn't know if he was still there. He wasn't wearing his armor for once so the familiar clank and clatter of metal was nonexistent. "You got your sword, right? You can do a lot of damage with that thing." "Yeah but no juice. And I need juice. See, 'cause what if we get in a tight spot and you--?" "What do you think is gonna happen, Ty?! For the love of all that is gold, It's just a party." "It's never just anything." He grumbled. Ty jogged ahead a little, matching his pace to Louie's. His footsteps alongside him were purposefully heavy So, he was stomping now. Real mature. Louie rolled his eyes. He was fully aware Ty was pissed, he didn't have to go above and beyond to make his anger known. "You really think I'm an idiot who doesn't take safety precautions? I'll have you know keeping Prince Louie alive isn't just your problem. Prince Louie is pretty serious about that too." He gestured to himself. "If you haven't noticed, I'm incognito today. I've got no crown, no mantle, no status whatsoever. And look at these ugly peasant threads," Louie pointed out, tugging at the hem of his dull green tunic. "It's actually kinda depressing how drab I look. I'm never gonna do this again actually. But! See how committed I am right now? Who's gonna recognize me? As we're all aware, I'm pretty well known for my pizzazz." "Just 'cause you stop being a prince doesn't mean danger stops existing." "No but it makes you way less of a target. Now, are you really gonna spend your whole day off bitching at me?" 

The glare Ty shot him was petulant at best. "Well, I didn't wanna. But I got dragged along on this little adventure so guess I gotta." Louie pursed his beak, irritated. He did not drag Ty along anywhere. 

"Come to think of it, I don't remember saying you had to follow me." Well, that came out as harsher than intended. Ty didn't seem hurt. At least, there was no sign that he was. No expression cracked his stone mask. "I've got a duty." Louie scoffed. Ty and his stupid duty. It was really starting to wear on his nerves. But not today, absolutely not today. On this fine, glorious day, Louie was intent on having fun. He would show up at this little forest shindig and he would drink and dance and schmooze and whatever else any carefree person at a party would do. He would forget about everything that was eating at him. He wasn't gonna let it consume him, he wasn't. He was gonna live. While he still could. His sixteenth birthday loomed closer. Six months left. "Sorry." Said Ty, unprompted. The shadows festering in Louie's head cleared out as he snapped back to the present. Ty had his eyes firmly downcast, a noticeable slump to his posture. "It's not like I wanna be running around killing the fun all the time. I really don't. But I gotta." Louie said nothing. His eyebrows rose in quiet astonishment as he studied Ty's side profile. He remembered when Ty first came into his life. Twelve years old, brandishing a sword too big for his body and grinning lopsidedly in an unmistakably trouble seeking sorta way. A real firecracker of a boy, loud and bright. Hungry for adventure and excited to throw himself head first into the action. He remembered one of Ty's earliest and most confident statements. When he lowered himself to bow to Louie in his uncle's throne room and declared that the prince would never fear for his life again. Because Ty would protect him and Ty was fearless. Louie believed him. Make no mistake, Ty had plenty of bite back then too. He had disliked Louie and the feeling had been mutual. But he never doubted that Ty had spoken the truth with his entire heart. Ty was fearless. When Louie was with Ty, he was safe. He believed that and he always had. Despite how they clicked as well as a dagger and a keyhole. Despite Ty being annoying. So annoying. He was still annoying. But it was different now. Louie couldn't pinpoint when that permanent glowing smile of his had dwindled and a thin frown had become Ty's default expression. His sword, something he always used to proudly haul around over his shoulder, now unceremoniously sheathed against his belt. Although Louie had noticed that his right hand never strayed too far from the hilt.   Protecting royalty with your entire being was an all-consuming duty and it seemed, at some point, the reality of such an allegiance had slapped Ty across the face. He had this distinct way of holding himself now. Always stood straight and rigid, coiled up with agitation. He was prepared to fight at a moment's notice but it was clear the thrill of doing so had been long since drained out of him. He still smiled. He still laughed. But only sometimes. Ty was annoying because he was paranoid. Because he was snarky. Because he was too stiff, too protective. And man, what Louie wouldn't give to have Ty's former brand of annoying back. At least never made him feel sorry for the guy. "Can I ask you a favor?" Louie finally spoke, pushing back a drooping tree branch so they could walk below it "You can try." Ty shrugged, his gaze still fixed ahead. "What if we just turn off this whole 'Prince and Retainer' thing today. Whadd'ya think?" He turned to him blankly, complete with a slight tilt of the head that made Louie a tiny bit weak. "Wha....?" Ty was simply not computing. He looked as though Louie was throwing out algebra equations and he was supposed to solve them right on the spot. And he was not a math guy by any means. The cute clueless expression was making it a little hard to focus. Louie swallowed. "Listen." He began, his thumb dragging itself across his sweaty palm as he struggled with how to phrase this. Louie had a way with words, always had. But he had a tendency to trip over his own tongue when Ty was involved. Especially when Ty was staring at him with his soft cande-light eyes and doing that stupid adorable head tilting thing and-- "You need a break." Louie blurted out. "You're stressed like constantly and it's getting kinda insufferable and I think your Dad would sick a dragon on me if his barely fifteen year old son suddenly kicked it 'cause of a paranoia overload so I think you should just forget about being my big strong hero for today and come hang out with me at this stupid peasant party and we can just be two regular kids instead of a royal and his bodyguard do you think you could give me that Tiberius?" It was only in the following beat of silence that Louie realized how fast he spat that all out. He struggled to catch his breath. One second. Ty blinked. Two seconds. A flicker of vacant eyes and then a rush of realization. And then disbelief. And then-- Three seconds. His brow scrunched together and a snarl crinkled his muzzle. His eyes flared. Oh, he was mad.... "Are you crazy?!" Ty shouted. He was beside himself with a malfunctioning mix of fury and incredulity that had him stammering his words. "You-You can't just--.....D-do you even-- you don't...do you realize how disrespectful that is? For you to say it? For-For me to do it?! I was given this duty by the King! The fucking King! To just suddenly "turn it off" would be--....I can't--!" Maybe "mad" was an understatement. "Ty--" Louie tried. He was cutting across Louie, treading back and forth on their forest path,. Not going further, not going back. Just walking to nowhere for the sake of being too scandalized to possibly stand still. Louie was attempting to get Ty's attention by grabbing his tunic but he kept shaking him off. "I'd be a disgrace! An embarrassment! I'm trusted by the royal family to keep--...to keep you safe! I-I can't just walk around with my liege like I'm on vacation and not be on guard! You don't even get it, you--" "Ty!" Louie said loudly."You wanna maybe listen for a sec?!" Frankly, he was surprised Ty halted his tirade. His eyes were blown wide, stunned and Louie wasn't quite sure why until he followed Ty's look, snapping down. Seems in his effort to get a hold of the guy, he had instinctively reached out and snatched Ty's wrist. They stood frozen for a moment, each set of eyes boring into the touch that tied them together. Louie's fingers began to uncurl. Then he decided no. His grip on Ty tightened with a purposeful squeeze. Ty met his gaze, looking....panicked? Confused? Didn't matter. He could besottedly dissect his unreadable facial expressions later. Louie inhaled, deciding to shoulder his dignity for just a second. No safety rails of snark this time. Ty might make fun of him for being sincere later but this was important. "Don't you miss being a kid with nothing to worry about?" Louie implored. "Because if we're being real, I don't think we're ever gonna get to live like that again." Ty muttered something to himself, shaking his head a little. "But listen," Louie continued, taking a step into Ty's personal bubble. Ty took an automatic step back. But since he was still holding his hand, Louie was led a step forward. It was difficult to tell with the pink fur but he could've sworn Ty reddened. "Look I know it's weird for me to be asking but....can't we just take a risk today? It's just a party in the woods. Literally the least likely place to find any danger in the whole kingdom." "We shouldn't--" "Ty, please." Honestly, Louie was a little surprised at himself. He hadn't even planned for Ty to accompany him anyway. But in the heat of the moment, everything had shifted upside-down. Turns out there was something inside him willing to beg. Something that wanted more than anything, for Ty come along. He just wanted a simple memory of just killing time with Ty. Separated from the castle and everything that reminded him of his fate. He would like to smile without a hint of dread for once this year. So, he said just that. "I'm not just trying to make you come along 'cause I'm stuck with you. That's not it." He swallowed. "You're--....you're cool. You're fun. I wanna have you around. You know, when you're not so worked up and you're just being yourself, I like hanging out with you." He tugged Ty's hand a little. Further from his sword and closer to Louie. "I want you to come with me. And I want you to try having fun too." He may as well just tell the idiot he thought about him every time he saw a sunset. The hand he was grasping flexed its fingers. Ty abruptly broke eye contact and glanced to the side, his tongue poking out to pierce the tip of his jagged tooth. His indecisive face. "I just--.....I dunno...." He muttered. "If something happened to you--" "Nothing's gonna happen to me." Said Louie immediately. "I've got a good feeling about this. And c'mon Ty, that coming from a coward?" "You're not a coward." He said, barely a whisper. He was now staring at the ground. "I promise." "Huh?" Louie smiled tightly as Ty looked to him questionably. "I promise nothing is gonna happen. I'm gonna be fine. You're gonna be fine. Now, can you do me this favor and maybe, I dunno, trust me?" The look Ty gave him was a little sad, but it was soft. And then with only a tiny twitch, it shifted into something else entirely. It was trust. Blind trust. Maybe stupid trust. A minuscule pang of guilt jabbed at Louie. Of course he wanted Ty to trust him. He needed him to if there was any hope of achieving his goal here. But objectively, he really shouldn't. Louie was hiding way too much from him. It wasn't fair. Then Ty broke the world, shattered orbit and played around with reality itself by cracking a smile and Louie forgot every coherent thought he ever possessed. He would never put on record just how long he spent pre-preparing jokes, gunning to get the corner of Ty's lips to flick upwards. Made him seem kinda desperate. Which he was not. Ty had that oh, so stereotypical "cute boy" smile. It was crooked, cocky, it was utterly obnoxious. Louie hated it. And worst of all, it was like a little spell to kick Louie's heart into high speed. Sometimes it dazed and confused him like a blinding light flash. But other times, it was warm and if he stared long enough, he'd fall asleep. Louie loved Ty's smile. Every time he tried to convince himself he didn't, he ended up dwelling on it too much and the way his mouth would quirk up would play in his mind on a maddening loop and then it would be too much to handle and the truth that he loved it would always overpower him. So, whenever that happened (like right this second.) he gave up and admitted it. To himself, anyway. He loved Ty's smile. He loved Ty. ......Wait. That last part was new, hold up. Rewind. But he didn't get the chance because Ty was talking now. Still a little dazzled, Louie didn't catch what he said but he figured it was good since he was still smiling. And then that smile broke into a huge grin, his eyes flashed with trouble and his hands were on Louie's shoulders and-- "Race ya!" Ty cried. With a light push, Louie was stumbling backwards and Ty kicked off into a sprint. For a brief moment, Louie could only gaze after him, stupefied. Love, huh? Like the real deal? That was crazy. But then he snapped out of as he recalled the audacity of this bastard. "You just pushed your liege!" He shrieked, receiving a loud "WOO!" from Ty as a response. And then Louie was grinning. He was giddy. He didn't quite know if he forgot about love in that instance or if it was the force powering him but he was tearing off after Ty, yelling about the latter's totally unfair head start. In hindsight, he should've figured it was love a long time ago. Who else would get him to run for no reason?

#ty cloudkicker #fairytale au

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

I Taste Honey but I Haven’t Seen the Hive - Chapter Six

Ao3,   Masterpost,   C.1   C.2   C.3   C.4   C.5

Relationships: eventual queer-platonic intruality. platonic dukeceit, creativitwins, and dlampr.

Yet again there are no italics. its new years eve sue me. oh also happy 2021 nobody question my priorities thanks <3

Warnings: so much softness, implications of self-isolation, swearing, Lots of Feelings, sympathetic everybody, descriptions of the sides having non-human features.

Word Count: 3,962

Something Remus came to realize was that he, a bit paradoxically, was not used to people being in his space.

It was weird. Not weird in the way that people usually felt when he was the one interrupting- he wasn’t scared by it, or disgusted, or even really annoyed. It was just… surprising, to have somebody else hanging around him, unprompted by anything. 

Remus wasn’t known for having boundaries- or respecting them, for that matter- but he’d at least been attempting to restrain himself just a bit after being accepted by the others. Out of courtesy, if nothing else. 

And apparently he didn’t need to. Not after what happened with Patton, anyway. Now that Patton had deemed the two of them ‘close’- something he was absolutely happy to agree with, for the record- Remus’ world had flipped sort of around. Back to no boundaries, only he wasn’t the one crossing those lines, and nobody was running screaming. Least of all Patton!

Remus ran the thoughts over in his head, feeling like that day was shaping up to be a great example of the change:

He and Patton were sitting side-by-side in the living room, content, with the rest of the sides spread around in different seats and configurations just the same. The unlikely pair were at the fringe of the circle, close enough to be part of things but far enough to zone in and out at will (as both were prone to do). It was nice, amiable.

 But minutes before- forty of them at most- Remus had been up in his own room, happily dissecting some gooish creations and only vaguely aware that there was a meeting that day. His attendance to group meetings varied from week to week- sometimes he was bored and could use an argument, and other times he was having fun on his own and knew that it wouldn’t be all that important if he ditched. He joined more often than he used to, sometimes he was even asked for, but he was optional still. A favored option, suggestions taken now, sure- but still not mandatory. 

He was going to stay upstairs for that one, but Patton had come to get him. Had dragged him down in that sweet, puppy-dog way of convincing that worked so well and, knowing him, was totally unintentional. And even if Remus didn’t care about arguing his way through content production right then, Patton had promised that it was important for him to be there.

That was the word he’d used for Remus. Important.

How the hell could Remus say no to that?

At least the meeting was going by without a hitch, for once. He assumed it was- Remus was honestly paying very little attention- but the lack of anger or tension was practically palpable. These things were usually so spiteful that even Remus, renowned lover of chaos, could almost taste his headache when everybody started shouting and hissing and fighting. It just got sad.

But not that time, apparently.

As Logan went on his third ramble of the evening, smiling widely at a surprising lack of interruption, Remus turned to Patton. He whispered:

“Okay, when are they gonna snap? Did they all finally get lobotomized?”

Patton frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean where’s all the screaming and crying? Specs and Prince Priss haven’t had a single one of their horny yelling matches, what gives?”

Patton smiled in a way that said he was trying very hard not to laugh, rolling his eyes.

  “These meetings have calmed down a bit, I guess,” he shrugged.

Remus glanced around the room with narrowed eyes. While that certainly seemed like the truth, he couldn’t buy it. 

“Yeah, I give it until one of them vaguely insults the others,  and then everybody’s gonna shut down for the next week. That kinda tension doesn’t just go.”

Patton didn’t say anything. Half-gazing at the carpet, he didn’t look like he’d even heard. He was smiling, but it was one of those jumbled up expressions, the type that tried to span a hundred different feelings. He had so many expressions like that, that seemed bottomless and swirling and so intricate on a humanoid face that, in reality, wasn’t built to display something like that. It was uncanny- not like an eerie doll, but like something with unearthly beauty. This face, though, had tones of upset.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been around everybody,” Patton said.

It wasn’t a question and it didn’t need to be. While Remus wasn’t exactly known for keeping to himself, he couldn't be called sociable either. He dropped in to say something, usually random, and then he was gone as soon as he’d visited. Even before the first Patton incident, fuck, it had been weeks since he’d actually stuck around through something.

Since The Acceptance, now that Remus thought of it, he’d been spending more time alone than ever. Not all of  his time- he remembered being surprised at Logan talking to him, willingly, like friends, and after that had even come Virgil and Roman. He saw people, talked to them, yeah. The time spent was friendlier, more welcoming, but it was so much less. 

Well, it was obvious why: they visited him, but- like he’d mentioned, he’d been trying to give them some space.

“Sure, it's been awhile,” Remus admitted, “But I never expected shit to change so much around here, still.”

The haze on Patton’s face thickened like fog on the moors, a soft and sympathetic mist over his eyes that Remus knew was aimed at him (even if it was pointed more to a sort of middle distance). 

“I don’t think I did, either,” Patton’s mouth barely moved, his voice less of a whisper and moreso a fragile breath. “I was hoping for it, but… I’m still trying to get used to stuff being allowed to change, you know?” He picked at a loose thread along the seam of the couch. “I haven’t done this stuff in a while, either.” 

Remus’ head shot up, and he almost forgot that they weren’t the only two in the room. Somehow, he stopped himself from shouting:

“You- it has?”

A tiny smile. Something built up behind Patton’s eyes; a wave, dark and lonely and filling his bright blues with cloudy gray. “I just needed some alone time, after everything changed so much so fast. I still feel, I dunno, weird. I don’t know what’s wrong with me- but…” he swallowed, his head lifting. “I’m really happy for them,” he was staring- so very loving- first at Logan, then Roman, then Virgil and Janus. It was a wonder none of them felt his gaze on them, Remus thought, because he was sure if anyone looked at him that way, he’d burn up like a fae upon iron. “They deserve it so much. I know that not everything is perfect still, but, I’m just so proud of us anyways. I- I think maybe-”

He cut himself off, blinking rapidly. Remus gave the room a quick once over to make sure nobody was looking their way- and nobody was: Virgil was very resolutely trying to get everyone to stay on topic despite Janus and Logan’s continued tangenting, and Roman was scribing furiously on several different pieces of paper- before he inched close enough to curve his arm around Patton. Touching like that had steadily become familiar to both of them, and it didn’t take long for Patton to fall untense against his side. He leaned into him, muttering: “I mean, they’re all doing a lot better than me, that’s for sure. I- I don’t even know what I’m for anymore. Maybe that’s why I’ve been… ditching, really.”

Remus squeezed his shoulder. There were so many things he could’ve said and done, but all of them loud and fervent and definitely not subtle enough to go unnoticed by everyone. So, for the sake of Patton’s privacy, he settled on this:

“That makes two of us, Morey.”

 The meeting that was planned to take two or three hours took the entire day, just as always. Hours and hours were spent in a room filled with excited conversation, of which the subject oscillated wildly between relevant topics and complete nonsense- which Remus and Patton did, eventually, tune back into (and contribute to as well, mainly in the nonsense department). Eventually, even Virgil gave up on trying to keep anything in order. 

But the meeting ended on a good note anyway. Lots of good notes, actually, if the stacks upon stacks of paper they’d scribbled up were any indication. Mess, the sides had come to believe, was usually a measure of their productivity: if crumpled pages were strayed across the room, if forgotten pens and pencils balanced on every surface from coffee table to TV stand, and if- in the process of snacking- they’d accumulated enough dishes to fill the sink for days on end? Shit. Got. Done.

Remus stared over the chaos with unfocused eyes. He felt distantly proud of the stormish state the living room was in. Draped over the back of the sectional, he gnawed idly on a wood pencil, stripping its yellow into beige. The paint fell off in bitter chunks, and the taste made him think of grabbing some non-acrylic dinner before closing the night off. Maybe he’d steal some of whatever saccharine sweet Patton usually made in the late evenings, and then spend the rest of the night with him, anyway. Remus debated what would be the most fun (or if he was tired enough to sleep yet), partially aware as he did so that he’d chewed and swallowed the metal-eraser end of his pencil.

“Ugh,” a drawn out groan broke his thoughts, petulant and whiny. “Do you have any intention of helping us clean up this, the common area?” 

Roman was kneeling beside Janus on the carpet, the pair surrounded by papers and binders and trashbags, the former of which they were sorting into either of the latter two, depending on how useful each page was. Roman had stopped working, however, to stare up at Remus indignantly. Remus glared right back.

“I’ve never had an intention in my life,” he answered.

Janus shrugged, smiling in that I-told-you-so way at Roman. But Roman, ever the nuisance, wasn’t letting it go. 

“Come on! It’s not like you’re even doing anything!”

“I’m doing something,” Remus’ words were wide and wobbly as he stripped another line of paint off the pencil, breaking some splinters off into his teeth.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes,” another chunk of wood, down the hatch. “I’m flaying all these leftover pencils until they’re lead-sticks.”

Roman hopped up from the floor and dropped himself onto the couch, shoving himself into the way so jarringly that it reminded Remus of himself. 

“Well, now you’re going to help us clean.” 

Janus rolled his eyes, not even glancing up. “Roman, just leave it alone, we-”

“We are all parts of this whole now, including him! Remus-” Roman rounded on him again, “If you’re going to come down here and help us make all this mess, with all of your numerous contributions that we have to write down, you’ll help clean it like anybody else. Do you think that I like any of- of-” he gestured, flamboyantly, at the room, “This? Ugh, please, I’m a prince! But, fair is fair, and fair means everybody.” 

And that was the point of the conversation in which Remus would cackle, push Roman backwards off the couch, and proclaim how much it’d go against his very being to clean a mess instead of cause it. He’d tell Roman how funny it was that he thought he could boss him around, because it always had been- that full-of-it Older Brother kind of attitude that had never worked. The Prince had never once managed to get him to do anything, and each attempt only got funnier than the last. 

He didn’t say any of that, though. 

Roman was bitching at him, not to go away this time, but to stay. Stay and help the group, because he was a part of said group. So he was asked to help them, the group that he was a part of, because he was part of it. That group. 

“Okay,” he blurted, “Okay, I’ll- alright.”

Roman blinked at him, a look of disbelief spreading across his face. “You- oh!” he smiled, utterly baffled. “That was- very easy?”

Janus, too, was looking up at Remus with bewilderment, his task of paper-sorting all but forgotten. Remus couldn’t blame either of them, but he still huffed, trying very hard not to be embarrassed by that whole… moment.

He shook it off, rolling off the couch and standing up, jittery. 

“Whatever, just- tell me what to pick up, okay?” 

They seemed not to hear him, the gawking continuing on until he started working unprompted, and longer than that still. Each time he (begrudgingly) shoved something into a trashbag, it earned him another Exchange of Glances from the pair. 

They got over it eventually, though, because there was a fuck-load more to clean than there was room to stare. So they cleaned.

Remus thought it would get old after a minute, and he’d finally gather up the guts to bail on them, but it just… never happened. It felt unnatural to be getting rid of a mess- like an animal having its fur brushed the wrong way, continuously- but by some point the sensation was distant. The rest of him was still busy processing, experiencing, maybe possibly overthinking this kind of recognition he’d never gotten before. It was handed to him now like it was something normal. The three of them worked together, and it was normal. 

Acceptance, as it turned out, wasn’t synonymous with ‘soulless assimilation’. In fact, it was pretty fucking great, getting to watch his brother and best friend find documents from the floor with his ideas on them, then tucking them into a binder marked important, instead of a trashcan marked to burn. It was… surreal. 

But the tidying was over in just an hour and a half- oh wow, never in a million years would Remus have thought an hour and a half of cleaning would be too little for him. He made a note to absolutely destroy something big and important later, to balance the universe out again. 

Roman sank through the floor as soon as they were done, complaining loudly about how very exhausted he was. Remus teased him on his way out, but it was just for the habit- he was way too mushy to think of anything properly mean at the moment. 

Janus watched him go, silent. He sat beside Remus on the couch, and despite his obvious tiredness, he waited a good few minutes before saying anything. 

“Thank you,” he murmured. 

Remus shivered. Janus pulled him up into a hug (one that maybe dragged on for a little too long, but who was counting?), and it spelled out all the pride and care that he’d never been good at verbalizing. With that, he gave Remus a short nod, and then was gone as well. 

Which made everyone else upstairs, probably in their rooms and halfway asleep. Then there was Remus, antsy in the living room, itchy with feelings. 

Everyone but Patton, of course, who could still be heard humming in the kitchen; who never went up until he knew everyone else was in their rooms, true to the protective parent persona. Remus suddenly didn’t think he wanted anything else but to see Patton after what had happened, to talk to him, to… 

He walked to the kitchen.

“Pat.”

Patton looked over his shoulder at Remus, up to his elbow in sudsy sink water. A smile fell naturally across his face.

“Hi,” his voice was low, delicate. “You about to head up?”

Remus watched his friend work, trailing into the room slowly.  He grinned, “Are you kidding? I could stay up all night, if I wanted.”

“Do you want to?” Patton asked him.

Remus thought on it for a moment. He shrugged, iunno, leaned against the counter by the sink. Patton turned away again.

It was so quiet. No wind. No footsteps. Not a muffled voice upstairs, even- just the sound of water and ceramic hitting ceramic. Everything was still.

Remus hated it. Silence was fragile, and he crawled with the need to break it. He felt it get tense as it stretched out, and he just wanted to tear the air apart with sound. It felt like nothing mattered anymore, when peace was so easily able to drown it all out. Cold and alone. He hated it.

Sometimes, Remus imagined that if the silence went too long, he’d never be able to make a noise again. There were few things that made him so unhappy, but the quiet… 

“What’s on your mind?” Patton asked.

Remus jolted. Patton was staring, concern gathering in his eyes the longer he did. Remus took a deep breath- he remembered something, something small and unimportant that Janus had told him once. 

When one is so intensely happy, they can fall to agonizing upset even quicker than if they’d been mildly perturbed in the first place, because of the ferocity of the feelings. Something like that. 

“A lot more than I’m willing to throw on your shoulders, Pops.”

Patton pouted. Actually. Fucken. Pouted. The worst part was, his puppy-face was actually working.

“Ugh,” Remus rolled his eyes, “Just- could I- I dunno, have a hug, or some shit?”

If Patton was surprised, he hid it well. God knew, that wasn’t exactly the kind of thing Remus would ask for. He almost never asked to get attention- taking it was much easier, and much more entertaining. Besides, if he’d ever asked before that point… well, he already knew what answer he would’ve gotten. 

Patton’s smile only widened, until it was positively melting. “Of course you can,” he shut the sink off. “Of course.”

He reached haphazardly for a hand towel, to dry his arms. Remus, riding the high of that enthusiastic permission, absolutely could not wait that long. He latched his arms around Patton’s middle before the side had even finished talking, burying his face between his shoulder blades and hugging tight. 

Patton went still, like he didn’t know what to do. After it became clear that Remus had no intention to move, Patton laughed, dreamy and soft, and shook his hands as dry as he could. He patted Remus’ forearm; bead-bracelets clattered under the Duke’s sleeves. 

“Hey,” Patton said.

“Mmh?”

“Not that this isn’t lovely,” he laced his fingers with Remus’, squeezed them, “But I’d like it better if I could hug you back, ya know?”

Remus let go, reluctantly. In the true fashion of intrusive thoughts, there was a second he was so convinced Patton would run, now that he was freed. Make an escape from him, an escape from his claws.

He didn’t. He spun right around and pulled Remus against his chest- one arm linked around his torso, the other winding into his tangled hair. Anyone, at a glance, could see that Patton was huge- but up close the difference was dizzying: his wide chest, encircling arms that seemed to be made of nothing but muscle and padding, and that height, all made him so… comforting. Big and strong, a body that disguised power in soft edges and fat. If he squeezed just a little too tight, in fact, Remus wouldn’t be surprised if Patton could make splinters out of his bones. Which Remus definitely, definitely wouldn’t mind, but the knowledge that Patton not only could do that but also wouldn’t ever do that- that was what really did him in. 

And he’d hugged Patton before- months ago, and somehow Patton had seemed so small then, when everything had started- but being hugged? Properly, too, not underwater while one of them was drowning- it was a world of difference. No panic, no breakdowns, just a real, solid hug.

He could just ask for this and then have it. He could smell sugar cookies and candle wax, and feel somebody- a willing body- pressing in. It was weird. He thought that someday, he might get used to it. He wanted a chance to get used to it. 

“Do you wanna talk now?” Patton prompted, forcibly reminding Remus that he had a bloodhound’s nose for emotional distress. 

“I don’t know.”

Patton hummed, his fingers scratching through Remus’ hair. “Today went better than I thought it would.”

“You didn’t have to bring me, if you thought it was gonna be bad.”

“I wasn’t worried because of you! I was worried because of me. Things have been… a lot for me, lately.”

“Oh,” Remus angled his head to the side, looking up at him. “Yeah. I feel ya.”

“But they were all so much more patient, weren’t they,” Patton’s eyes went a little misty, the way they always did when he talked about his family. “Everything’s different now, and I guess that scared me, but I think that now… it’s a good different, you know?” 

“Like us, right?” Remus laughed, “This is the craziest difference, if ya think about it.”

Patton chuckled, the sound reverberating in his chest so that Remus felt it more than heard it. 

“I don’t think I would’ve gotten through with today without you, you know that?” 

It was deeply honest. There was a beat. 

“I-” Oh fuck, Remus was choked up, when did that happen? “I wouldn’t have even had a day like today, without you, so. Do with that what you want.” 

Remus buried his face in Patton’s sternum, just to avoid the sad understanding in his eyes. 

He- he wasn’t exactly made for the care he was getting, not the kind of softness in that face. Not when Patton was still patiently untangling his matt of hair while they hovered in the stillness of the dark, empty kitchen, and Remus desperately didn’t want to cry. 

Patton gave him a minute to breathe, at the very least, before:

“They like you, though. Janus loves you.”

“Yeah, okay, but it’s not-”

“I know how you feel,” said Patton, and did. “Like they couldn’t actually care about us, even though it doesn’t make sense for them not to. It’s one of those things that’s easy to forget,” Remus could hear the smile in his voice. “So it’s good we have each other, when we need to get out of our own heads. At least, it’s like that for me, I don’t know if you even-”

“No,” Remus curled his claws in the back of Patton’s shirt, something dark and emotional flooding like tar through his chest. “Nah, you’re right, Morey. This is good for us.” 

Remus shook his head at nothing in particular. He forced his hands unballed, pulled back, and wormed his way out of Patton’s hug after way too long. 

His skin felt like paper from the affection, like he’d been electrocuted, and while that was fun- was amazing- for a while, he didn’t think he could handle much more in one sitting. 

Patton let him go, smiling warmly, leaning back against the counter. His eyes were shiny and wet, but he was content. 

“Thanks,” Remus said.

“What for? The hug?”

“No- I mean, that too, but I was saying ‘thanks, for caring’. For giving enough of a shit about me to try and help.”

Patton smiled, solemnly.

“I told you so,” he breathed, “I promised I would like you when I got to know you, and then I did. I do!” 

Remus felt a grin returning to his face, sliding across his lips more naturally than anything else he’d had to deal with that night.

“Yeah. You aren’t too bad yourself, Pat.”

Chapter Seven

Taglist: @shrimp-crockpot @glitter-skeleton-uwu @donnieluvsthings @intruxiety @thefivecalls  @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @gayformlessblob 

#sanders sides #ts #fanfiction #fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #ts fanfic #intruality #qpr intruality #platonic intruality #remus #patton

[sithsecrets]

please please please ‘there was only one bed’ with big bear clyde 😮😮😮

this is a continuation of the convenience dating prompt i wrote for clyde earlier this week! you can find that piece here! it would be best if you read it first, but you certainly don’t have to :)

---

Clyde + There’s Only One Bed

You close your eyes lazily, tilting your face towards the warmth of the sun. Though the wind is loud in your ears, it’s nice to feel fresh air on your skin after being in the car for so long. Ya’ll are nearly to Richmond now, having crossed the state line hours ago, and you’re more than ready to get to the hotel.

It still feels a bit surreal to be here beside Clyde. It feels surreal to be going on this trip at all, really. The whole thing was so out of left field, but how could you say no? It’s not every day that Clyde Logan asked you for favors, and that whole speech about him needing you, well… Well, that was something else entirely, and how deep that sentiment goes is still unknown. Ever since Clyde asked you to come with him, you’ve been dying to know what all this means. The drive down here was five hours long, and you suppose you could have talked about it then, but why potentially ruin a good thing? Listening to the radio and arguing over the lyrics to old classic rock songs sure was fun, and you know that there’ll be plenty of time for all that emotional stuff later. The way you see it, Clyde’ll either fess up and tell you how he feels outright, or this whole thing will go down in the books as a fun road trip between friends.

(Though you really do hope Clyde cares for you the way you care for him.)

Fifteen minutes after you manage to shake off your thoughts, Clyde pulls the car up to ya’ll’s hotel for the weekend, telling you that he’ll be right back as he jumps out to check in. You watch him go inside, idly admiring the way his shirt pulls across his back as he walks inside.

You’re alone for maybe ten minutes before Clyde comes back out of the lobby, and you can tell just by the look on his face that something’s wrong.

“They booked me the wrong kind a’ room,” is the first thing out of Clyde says to you, peering in through the open window on your side of the car. You ask him what he means, and his mouth contorts into an embarrassed sort of pout. “I meant to get a room with two beds, but they put it in the computer wrong. There’s only on bed in the one they can give us, and the hotel’s full for the whole weekend. Some kinda car show in town or somethin’, if you can believe our luck.”

And you can. The traffic on the way down here was pretty intense, and one look at the hotel’s packed parking lot lets you know right away that Clyde’s not fibbing.

“Everywhere else in town is probably full too,” you say, talking more to yourself than anybody else. You turn to Clyde, choosing your words carefully so as not to come off like a total creep. “It’s just for a couple of nights.”

The tips of Clyde’s ears flush pink. “That’s what I was thinkin’, but I wanted to ask.”

---

You and Clyde are having a good time in Richmond until ya’ll come back from dinner, suddenly confronted by a harsh truth: ya’ll really do have to share this bed for the next two nights.

Neither one of you is brave enough to so much as joke about the whole thing, darting past each other to take turns in the bathroom. You take a quick shower, mostly just biding your time as you let the warm water roll down your back. Part of you thinks that you should just be bold, that you should come right out and say how you feel. Clyde cares for you in some way, that much you know, and you’re sick of this little game. You want to know once and for all where ya’ll stand, even if it means having your feelings hurt. But once again, you’re too much of a coward to fess up, afraid of ruining this weekend before it even begins. Clyde said he needed you for this get-together tomorrow, and you’d just die if your own selfish desires made Clyde feel like he couldn’t depend on you anymore.

You’re the first to actually get in bed, sliding down under the covers while Clyde takes a shower of his own and brushes his teeth. He comes out of the bathroom dressed in soft clothes, hair wet at the ends, and you watch quietly as your friend goes to turn out the one light you left on for him.

Finally, ya’ll are under the covers. You and Clyde try to lie as far apart as possible, though ya’ll still don’t have much in the way of personal space. The air conditioning unit runs loud on the far wall, filling the room with white noise as ya’ll look at each other in the darkness.

“I’m excited to meet your friends,” you say softly, trying to make this whole thing less awkward.

Clyde shifts a bit in bed, settling his arm underneath his head. “They’ll like you.”

You draw the sheets up to your neck, feeling shy for some reason. “How do you know?”

Clyde just shrugs, simply saying, “Because I like you.”

You can hear it now, can hear the emotion in his voice. For the first time, you don’t care about ruining things anymore.

“Clyde,” you say softly, almost whispering his name, “come here.”

Even in the darkness, you can see how Clyde’s eyes go wide. You’re sure he’s blushing, you’re sure his ears are turning pink in that sweet way they do sometimes.

“I… Darlin’, I— I don’t want you to think that I—”

“Clyde,” you press, desperate now, “it’s okay, honey. I know.”

Still, Clyde remains stubborn, stammering like a fool. “It ain’t— You really don’t have to, that’s not why I brought you here—”

You slide closer to him now, reaching out to cradle his face in your hands. That makes Clyde shut his mouth, the look on his face something between hopeful and distraught.

“Clyde,” you repeat, speaking his name for the third time. “I know. You don’t have to say it, baby. Now please, come here.”

It’s as if a dam’s broken open, you and Clyde groaning in relief the minute ya’ll’s lips meet. Everything happens fast after that, the both of ya’ll kissing and groping and getting serious about this.

Clyde is panting for breath when he pulls back, hair hanging in his face as he looks down at you. You can feel how hard he in his shorts, his cock pressing into your body obscenely.

“I ain’t— I mean, of course I have, but not in a long time,” Clyde breathes, and it’s obvious that he’s so incredibly embarrassed. You can tell that this is uncharted territory for him, hooking up with somebody in a hotel room, and you get it— this isn’t exactly your M.O. either.

“That’s okay,” you say softly, because it is. You don’t care if this lasts five minutes, don’t care if ya’ll don’t even get there before it’s over— you just want Clyde.

“You sure?” Clyde asks, earnest even as his hips roll against yours just the slightest bit.

“I’m sure.”

---

It’s early when you find yourself opening your eyes, your intended wake up time still a couple of hours out. The bed is warm, the heat of you and Clyde’s bodies mingling under the sheets and keeping you both comfortable in the night.

When you turn over in Clyde’s arms, you see that he’s awake too, peering at you in the weak morning light. You reach out to touch his face, fingertips tracing lines between the freckles and moles on his cheeks.

“When I introduce you to my friends today,” Clyde says softly, “can I call you my girl?”

You lean in, giving Clyde a soft, chaste kiss.

“Only if I can call you my man.”

#sleepover night #clyde logan #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan imagine #clyde logan fanfiction #Anonymous