#are there any bugs that look like this? smooth but with fuzzy heads

[deadheadgully]

i had a dream there was a sandstorm and my family n i were watchin it through the windows, but it wasnt sand it was a bunch of little worms that crawled into my everything so much so i threw em up til i passed out

also they looked like this

[lovebugism]

Smut request idea: Eddie worshipping reader's tits, who is insecure about their small size (lol totally not projecting 😅)

ty for requesting :D — eddie 'heart eyes' munson sees your boobs for the first time (cw for nudity, but no real smut, 18+ mdni, 1.1k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

On a rainy, post-show night, in the back of Eddie Munson’s van, you decide to be brave.

Buzzing with alcohol, adrenaline, and adoration — a wild concoction rushing like fire through your veins — you take your shirt off for the very first time in front of him. Mostly because your sweater was getting itchy, so you’re not entirely sure how brave that makes you. But your skin burns still, empty like a blank sky, yearning for a warmer touch to fall over you like stars.

In the simplest, most human way, you need Eddie to touch you like you need to breathe air. 

So, when you tugged the fuzzy sweater up and over your head, you hadn’t thought much about doing it. You were too full of need, too unthinking. Head clouded with longing until you developed something short of tunnel vision for the boy underneath you.

It wasn’t that big a deal, right? Isn’t this what girlfriends do with boyfriends?

Eddie’s silence is not reassuring. It feels more like a knife lodged in the very center of your sternum.

You lay the sweater beside you and cross your arms slowly over yourself. Equal parts to hide what you’d just revealed to him and to shield your bleeding, stinging heart.

Eddie’s face twists, pained features swirling like a hurt puppy. “Wait— What are you doing?” he asks in an unabashed whine. His less-than-subtle pout deepens as his chocolate-button eyes flit up to yours.

You keep curling in on yourself, but from where you straddle his thighs, he’s impossible to run away from. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” you wonder in a tiny voice, distantly fearful of the answer. 

You don’t have the kind of chest people put on magazines. Maybe you should’ve just kept the shirt on.

Eddie’s ringed fingers smooth around your bare waist. He realizes he’s holding you there for the very first time without any fabric covering you. His chest starts to sparkle. His thumbs rub gently at your ribcage, just below the arms still concealing yourself.

“‘Cause I’m too busy enjoying the view, honey,” he answers with a plush pink and crooked smile. His words are slightly slurred, weighed down by fatigue and desire. “How am I supposed to think when I’m looking at you, huh?”

You make a faint, grumbly noise, features scrunching in disdain at his compliment.

He smiles wider and curls his fingers around the wrists you hold over yourself. There is little force behind his touch, no eagerness to tug your hands away. Instead he just holds you, in a distinctly quiet embrace, telling you silently that you can let your guard down whenever you’re ready.

“So you don’t think they’re weird?”

He answers with an immediate scoff. “No, I don’t think they’re weird— I think they’re beautiful! I think every part of you is beautiful.”

You grow less and less tense in his hold. Your hands start to slip. You let them. 

Bare again in front of him, the boyish glimmer in Eddie’s dark eyes returns. 

The wild cadence of rain on the rusted tin roof resembles the rapid patter of his pounding heart as he ogles at you. And, with his back propped against the driver’s seat, he has the most perfect view of you.

The pale hands along your ribcage slowly start to rise. His warm touch leaves sparkling goosebumps in its wake. He doesn’t stop until his thumbs are settled neatly beneath your breasts.

“I mean— I always knew they’d be pretty, you know?” he mumbles, getting lost in you all over again. You don’t know if he’s talking to you, or if he even knows he’s rambling. “‘Cause when you’d let me feel you up, you know, over the shirt— I always imagined what you’d look like under it…”

He trails off then, forgets how to make words when his thumb rubs over your soft nipple. The gentle stimulation makes it stiffen beneath his touch. Eddie smiles to himself, all boyishly giddy.

“…But I couldn’t’ve, in my wildest imagination, expected this.”

Your chest warms with his affection. You scoff about it, anyway. “You’re such a boy,” you laugh.

“It’s not my fault you’re so pretty…” 

Still cupping your chest, Eddie leans down to kiss you there. A chaste, open-mouthed peck to your pebbled nipple. His heart swells when he hears you moan above him — your nose buried in the strands of his wild hair, fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. 

Eddie licks his rosy lips when he pulls back from you. 

“See? You’re gonna kill me one day, doll— I swear,” he teases in a joking tone, but means every bit of it. He loves you so much it makes his chest ache. You’ll give him a goddamn heart attack one day if he’s not careful. “Can’t believe you’ve been hiding from me this whole time…”

You’re not sure either, now. 

“I was just scared that… I don’t know,” you stammer, clammy hands fidgetting with his intentionally tattered Corroded Coffin t-shirt. You’d helped him cut rips into the white fabric before the show. You distract yourself with the pink lipstick smudge you’d pressed along the neck of it, rubbing hopelessly at a stain that’ll never come off. 

“I was scared that you’d think I was less pretty or something. I don’t know.”

“No,” Eddie recoils immediately, face twisting in abhorrence of the thought. He shakes his wild head at you. “No way. That’s not possible. I think you’re fucking— perfect. And I think that…”

His eyes fall to your chest again. He loses the rest of his words.

A smile blossoms on your face. You don’t think you’ve ever felt prettier than you do right now.

“You think that what?” you tease, hands rising again to twist in his deep brown curls.

Eddie’s button eyes flit back up to you. His ringed hands lift to cup your breasts in his wide palms. They fit just perfect in his hands — like he was made to hold you there. The width of his beam rivals your own. 

“That I just found Corroded Coffin’s next album cover,” he answers.

The sound of your laughter fills the van. Sunshine compared to the rolling rain outside.

“No. No way. That’s not happening,” you refuse, still smiling, as Eddie leans into you again.

You wrap your arms around his neck when he puts his mouth on you. He buries his own laughter against the plush of your breast — along with so many little kisses. 

He doesn’t mind your light-hearted rejection. The only thing Eddie likes more than showing you off is keeping you totally to himself.

[starsofang]

simon riley x autistic!reader requested by 🪼 anon! <3 tw: anxiety/bits of a meltdown, but other than that, it's fluffy! previous part

Today’s been a very, very bad day.

Everything that could’ve possibly gone wrong, went wrong.

Your brain was filled with fuzzy, radio static no matter how many times you tried to flip the channel. The buzzing rang through your ears like an endless swarm of bugs whipping at your face, causing your skin to itch and crawl with impending unease.

It felt as if you were teetering off of a high cliff, legs dangling over the bottomless pit with only a single hand on the edge to keep you from sinking down into the vast ocean of nothingness.

Your brain was having an inner battle with the things that kept you operating. It was coercing you into a full blown shutdown, panic pressing all of your buttons and sending you into overdrive. You were sure you would short circuit and billow out with exhausted rings of smoke, and it was only a matter of time before it became too much to handle.

Simon was there before your system called it quits and imploded on itself.

He was always there. Ever since he’d formed a bond with you after learning of you being autistic and researching every possible way to understand you as an individual, he was always there, trailing close behind and aiding you before you burst.

Simon knew from the moment he saw the distant look on your face and the befuddled furrow in your expression that you needed a moment to breathe. Air to fill your lungs, peaceful serenity to occupy the warzone in your mind.

The way you became snappy towards the team was like a ticking time bomb ready to go off and wreak havoc to anybody unfortunate enough to get in the way. You were reclusive, close-minded, and nearly sent Johnny into an early grave when he attempted to joke with you. Poor Johnny was only trying to lighten your spirits, but Simon knew that wasn’t what you needed.

You needed security. You needed grounding. You needed somebody to lightly tug you back down to Earth and exterminate the ugly parasites worming around in your brain with a gentle coax of patience.

When Simon saw you sat around the others with your hands curled into fists, nails biting into the smooth skin of your palm, and your jaw clenched so hard he feared your teeth might break, he called things quits for the day.

He said nothing as he stood from where he sat, gently guiding you with him with a touch on your elbow. He let go as soon as you got the hint and opted to gesture with a nod of his head to follow him, as he knew any form of communication or physicality might truly coax your hand to let go off that ledge and dive right into that empty abyss.

He knew if he let that happen, he might have to spend weeks searching it to find you again.

Your steps were heavy and dragged from behind him. Your shoes made muted thumps on the floor, and you walked with a bitter vengeance, like you were hoping if you stomped hard enough, the floor might open up and swallow you whole.

Simon said nothing, even as the two of you entered the privacy of his quarters. It was new for him to allow somebody in the very space he could hide away in like that of a troglodyte. This was his sanctuary, and nobody, not even Johnny had the permission to enter it on their own free will.

You were an exception. You were always an exception.

Any time you needed time to think, space to collect yourself before you succumbed to numbing stimulation, Simon would allow this sanctuary to be yours as well.

“Sit,” he told you, and though a demand, it remained soft and quiet so as not to rattle the drums in your ears that were already on the brink of exploding into a bloodied mess.

Your face was mucked up into a darkened scowl but you did as he said, plopping yourself down on the edge of his mattress. The fabric underneath your hands felt like sandpaper, and when you spread your palms along the material, it felt like shards of glass cutting into your skin.

The static in your brain raised tenfold. It grew louder and angrier, and you took the mattress sheet into your fists, balling it up so tight, your knuckles turned a pale white.

Everything felt overwhelming, everything felt loud, you didn’t understand why the buzzing wouldn’t stop, why the bugs biting at your skin couldn’t feast on a meal that wasn’t you, why–

Something soft and puffy encased your ears, submerging them with a gentle string of mellow chords and instruments and filtering through to the chaos rooted in your brain. The static slowed to a light hum that no longer felt suffocating, but instead, warm and fuzzy, like a loving hug that shifted all of your pain and worries into nothing but dusted air.

Simon stood before you with both hands carefully placing the headphones to your ears. It was his way of wanting to touch you for comfort, without having to actually touch you. He knew every little trigger as well as every necessity that ensures you feeling grounded and safe, and music was one of them.

You hated loud, fast music when the world felt like it was collapsing in on itself, and Simon knew that. It was exactly why he opted for a tender melody that contained no words, no singing, just simple notes that you could force yourself to tune in on and seek solace in.

When Simon saw your expression melt away from stiff and angry to calm and peaceful, he took his hands away from your headphones, letting them sit on their own. The war in your mind was calling a truce, but just to assure both himself and you that it stayed that way, he grabbed one of the blankets he kept for you and began wrapping you up in it.

He made sure it was just loose enough to where you could move, but tight enough for it to feel like an embrace that he knew you weren’t ready to receive from him yet. When the time was right, he’d join you under the confines of the blanket and hold you for as long as you needed, but for now, he was perfectly content with sitting and waiting for you to come back to Earth.

The room was silent during his patient waiting, apart from the faint sound of the classical music playing from under your headphones. He remained crouched in front of you, hands resting on his knees and itching with readiness for when you’d open your eyes and give him that blinding smile he fell in love with along the journey of your friendship.

When the time came, Simon tilted his head at you as you stared back with a spark back in your eye.

“Better?” he asked, and when you gave him a toothy smile, he knew he’d done well.

“Better,” you repeated in confidence.

Simon smiled back, eyes crinkling beneath his mask. He gave your knee a gentle squeeze, and he happily joined you under the blanket when you lifted it in invitation, molding you into his side and letting his fingers brush through your hand with a thoughtful touch while the music continued to give you much needed calm.

If tranquility was all you needed in times where your mind was exhausted to the point of collapse, he’d greedily wait a lifetime if it meant being the calm before (and after) the storm and having the opportunity to end it rolled up in blankets with you in the congested space of his bed.

as always, i hope you enjoyed, and i thank 🪼 anon for this lovely request! hopefully you like it <3

[multiwreckedmess]

Kinktober Day 1

Prompt: Costume Pairing: San x fem!reader WC: 1,900 Summary: When you and your boyfriend have a minor disagreement on what to do for your halloween costumes, you hatch a plan to have him see your side.

This is a work of fiction, it does not represent San or any Ateez member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this. 

TW/CW under the cut

TW/CW: Sort of petplay, reader called “kitty”, “kitten” as well as “babe” and “sweetie”, oral (m. receiving), unprotected intercourse, finishing inside, tail plug mentioned. I think that’s about it.

Staring into the monochrome abyss of San’s closet you huff. “Babe? What are we wearing for Hongjoong’s Halloween party?”  He doesn’t turn from his game, frantic clicks of the mouse filing the space where his reply should be.  “Babe?” You ask again, foolishly hopeful.  More clicking, punctuated by a flood of curses under his breath.  You purse your lips and turn to him, the silhouette of his chair blocking him. “San?”  His fist slams into the table, “SHIT! Sorry. Dead. I got 1 minute. What? Sorry.”  “Costume. Halloween party?”  “I was thinking we’d buy a couples-”  “BUY?” Your eyes bug incredulously. The thought opens wide a can of childhood trauma. Years of your parents insisting that you create your costumes with clothes either from the second hand store or existing closet pieces with minimal single use articles. While others got to dress as Jesse from Toy Story or Cinderella, you had to figure out your best approximation of what a witch would look like in modern dress.  San’s brows furrow in confusion. “What? Yes? How else do you get a costume?”  “Where is your spirit of creation?! I might as well dress up like a cat if you’re just going to buy some shitty costume.”  San rolls his eyes, exasperated. “You can’t make a cat into a couples costume.”  “You go ahead and buy the costumes. I’ll put together mine and show you how much better it is.”

 It’s manipulative, you know it is, as you examine yourself in the mirror. You’d probably never wear this ensemble out, but it was about the message. Fuzzy ears clipped to the top of your head matched beautifully with the tail plug tickling the back of your thighs from under your skirt. It was almost unfair, almost.

 Leaning against the doorframe you watch him click away, unaware of the treat sitting mere meters away from him. You knock and wait patiently with a small smirk tugging at your lips.  “He-holy shit,” San turns and stops in his tracks, eyes racking over your body. Whatever he was doing or going to do long forgotten he launches himself from the computer chair. He whole body throbs for a second as his arms tighten around you and lift, moving you with ease. For a second he considers tossing you fully onto the mattress but decides better, it would be a waste instead placing you in the center of the bedroom. “Such a pretty kitty,” San purrs, pushing your hair behind your ear. Nails scratching lightly at your scalp, his eyes shine as as shiver runs down your body.  “So you like it?” You tug slightly at the half gloves covering your wrist, smoothing them taut to you. Small rubber paw prints adorn the palms, soft and squishy and pink. Your stockings have them too, just at the ball of the foot, with matching pretty pink bows at the tops of the thighs. You twirl, tripping lightly as the rubber paws grip the ground more than you’re prepared for. San’s arms wrap around you again and secure you as his chest blocking your tumble.  “Maybe a little dangerous to wear out,” he muses, hand trailing your spine.  “We’ll have to take care of that, won’t we kitty?” His mind feels hazy as the blood flow redirects southwards. He shouldn’t be as attracted to this outfit as he is. You just look so cute, so so SO cute it makes his head swim.

 It’s impossible to hide the pulse of interest in his sweatpants, comfy and breathable grey cotton leaving nothing to the imagination. “Take care of what?” You bat your eyelashes dumbly, prolonging the game. Your hands skim down to the waistband of his pants, feeling the flex of his lower abs as his breath catches. His own hand pushes up the back of your skirt, tugging lightly at the tail, stirring the plug within you just enough to make you whine.  “Don’t worry kitty, just follow me,” he smiles, palm cupping your ass. “get on your knees for me, won’t you?”  You’ve never dropped to your knees faster, looking up at his toned body with wide eyes. He barely moves his head to look down at you, only his eyes following. Your mouth waters, staring at the tented outline pressing insistently to the fabric.  “Be a good kitty and open your mouth for me,” his thumb strokes your cheek, your jaw softening and falling open in his hand. One handed, he pushes the top of his pants down, thick cock springing from the confines. Heavy and musky he taps the head on your outstretched  tongue, sucking in air through his teeth. It the eager twinkle in your eye as you patiently wait for his next instruction that stokes the fire in his gut. “That’s it, now just the tip sweetie, just a little lick for me,” he coaxes.

 Tongue flicking gently against the underside you listen for his breathy moan, mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. You barrage him with sweet kitten licks all over the head of his dick. As much as he can control his body he couldn’t control his expression, fighting to keep his eyes open his eyelids flutter. “Li’e tha’?” You ask, words slurred with your tongue lolling out.  “Just like that,” he sighs, “just keep your mouth open babe, let me do the work.” Letting the weight of his member rest heavily on your tongue you hold your head still, eyes fixed upwards, gazing at his face. Gathering your hair into a loose fist at the base of your scalp, his hips press forward into your inviting heat. It’s barely halfway down before he feels the resistant tight ring of your throat against him. Hazily he shallowly thrusts against it, the sound of your soft gags awakening something primal in him. Tears welling in your eyes you work hard to breath through your nose as he loses himself briefly to the rhythm. “Doin’ so well-,” he gasps, “a lil’ more. Such a good obedient kitty. A lil’ more for me.”

 Your core throbs impatiently, gut twisting and tightening. His choked back moans and lack of oxygen have you lightheaded, your own hand wandering between your thighs to provide some relief to your unattended sex. Subtle twitches of his thighs and cock tell you he’s close, an unrepressed moan burbling up from your lungs has him retreating quickly, strands of spit and salty precum bridging the gap in your bodies.  “Don’ wan’ cum?” You gulp and gasp, wiping your lips on the back of the arm warmers.  San shakes his head, eyes unfocused and breathing heavily.  You don’t have time to question why before he is pulling you up by your forearms and tossing you face down into the unmade sheets of the bed like you were little more than a misplaced pillow. He’s on you nearly as fast, hand running up the back of your thighs to your slit.  “Practically dripping,” he growls and giggles all at once, giddy. You push back on his hand with a moan.  “All for you,” your voice is horse and ragged.  “Good kitty.”

 The blunt pressure of his cock breaching your entrance forces a harsh exhale from you. Your skirt is bunched and balled into his fists at your waist, little more than makeshift handles for him to use as he pushes his way into your tight heat. The slickness of your arousal eases the push as his hips roll against you, deeper and deeper with each stroke until he’s fully seated in your cunt. Elated, you wiggle back at him, shaking the tail still snuggly held in by the plug.  San marvels at how your walls stretch and hug to accommodate his thickness. The audio visual experience of your small moans and tight hole eagerly sucking him back dulls his wits. For a moment he drops the skirt to palm your ass, spreading you so he can better watch himself disappear as he shallowly fucks into you, absentmindedly stroking the fur of the tail draped down your back. It’s just enough to jostle the plug, tight ring of muscle flexing to hold it in.  Your chest tightens and vision blurs, elbows faltering and falling cheek first into the mattress. “It feels good,” you try to say, only bubbles of spit and moans managing to make their way out of your mouth.  “You’re so fucked,” San laughs as his hips snap into you faster. “You’re so hot.”  “Fuuuuck,” you groan in agreement. “I’m fuuuuucked.” The words bounce with the shaking of your body, uncontrolled and automatic. San fists your strip of a skirt, using it as leverage to fuck into you harder and faster. You can hardly breathe as your orgasm rolls over you, one after another, walls clenching and spasming around his cock. Fingers claw at the bed, twitching as you pant and groan and swear underneath him.  He drops his hold on your skirt, unceremoniously allowing you to crumple to the bed as he pulls from you.  “Nooo,” you whine pitifully at the loss of sensation. Exhaustion plagues your muscles but your gut needs more, craves more. You ragdoll as he pushes you to your back, clambering between your thighs again. It’s rougher than he’s every been with you. You stomach flutters and flips and he practically folds you in half, pressing your knees up to your armpits and sliding back into you.  “Don’t worry kitty, you’ll get your treat,” he murmurs in your ear, breath tickling your jaw.  This angle is a different kind of intense, his body weight heavy on your lungs, restricting your airflow just enough to have you buzzing. His biceps flex as he holds himself and your legs up as best he can, your stockinged feet waving loosely in the air with each thrust. You hold onto him, clinging to his back with all your might. Your ears ring and rush as you lose yourself in his motions.  “Cum, please, cum,” you chant into his shoulder. “Fuck your cum into your cute kitten.” Spit and sweat commingling on your lips. You curl up, forehead pressed to the junction as you climax, vision darkening and eyelids fluttering.  You’d scream but your lungs are empty and diaphragm clenched. Everything burns from the inside out. Gasping, you bite down on his trapezius, his strangled groan of pleasure and surprise breaking through your haze as his hips stutter and slam as deep as he can go into you. The warmth of his release coats your walls as they work him.

 San whimpers and then giggles quietly.  “Sorrysorrysorrysorry,” you spew in a whispered prayer.  “Don’t apologize to me,” he kisses your cheek. “Intense right?”  You don’t answer, eyes closed in bliss. All is quiet except for your breaths and the occasional light smack of lips to skin as you pepper eachother with pecks. You let him lower your legs to the bed, release slightly seeping out around his cock as he moves you. “You like the costume?” You trade an obvious question with a second obvious question.  “Skirts ruined, sorry,” he giggles again. “Pussy ruined.””

 You glare at him. He shifts slightly, balancing himself on one arm as he grabs an errant ear from between the pillows. “See? Pussy ruined. Besides, not a couples costume so-” it was such a San answer, letting you win the battle but not the war.

I’m really not promising much if anything but I wanna write more frequently sooo here you go. As usual, please let me know if I am missing tags or if you’d like me to add any TW/CW that are sensitive for you to any upcoming fics!

Also i noticed the formatting is a little fucked on mobile i’m so sorry i think it’s that i copy paste in from another doc but like...it’s hard to tell. It’s the first paragraph. Sorry!!

[gh0stlyfixation]

A strong bond

Paring: ser Harwin Strong x fem!reader, ser Harwin strong x targaryen!reader

The quiet, perfect, and obedient princess rode Drogar, the cannibal. The deadliest of dragons, who just so happens to be your little snuggle bug. He hatched just days after your birth. You shared a crib with him and he grew quickly. His stubbornness matched yours.

You smiled as you lightly rubbed his face, “calm today isn’t he princess?” Harwin spoke from a distance. You looked up at him and chuckled.

“Love, you know he won’t hurt you. Just have to offer him some scratches.” You said. Drogar turned his head to Harwin and huffed, almost demanding him for the said scratches, “Gīda ilagon, Drogar.” Calm down.

Harwin came up to you, standing directly behind you, and gave him a quick scratch, “he hates me you know.” He spoke

“He hates everyone, but he knows my love for you. We are connected, he and our baby, are connected. One day our child will have a dragon, I hope it grows with it as I did with him.” You told Harwin, “Jikagon tymagon.” Go play. You told Drogar.

Drogar shifted, walking to an open area, and began running and flapping his large wings to fly in the sky. You turned around to face Harwin grabbing onto his leather straps, “I think I’m in labor.” You smiled. Harwin looked down at you with a confused look, you didn’t show any signs of discomfort. He looked down and saw a little wet puddle on the dirt of the dragon pit.

“Perhaps we should find a handmaiden?” He asked.

You were calm, you’ve seen a baby be born on a regular, and though it was your first baby, you knew the drill. You had a few hours before the pain would kick in. Perhaps have some dinner with your family before calling it a night, “I’ll let you know when it’s time. Let's have dinner. I heard father had requested pork with that amazing bread Kela makes” Harwin smiled and chuckled.

He too was calm. When he was around you he knew everything was okay. You were a quite girl, observant and because of this, you were knowledgeable. “I’d say I have three hours before the babe will cause a ruckus.”

——

You sat in the bed holding onto your little girl. She had a patch of fuzzy silver hair and a grip of steel. She was a Strong. The Queen, Alicent came to see you. Alicent had always adored you, maybe it was because of your obedience, but she did love you like her own.

“Perfect little angel.” She told you as she dabbed sweat off your forehead. The Harwin came in with little Aemond following closing. You had always adored Aemond, he followed in your shadows, always wanting to be like Harwin.

“Look we found the babe an egg. It’s the perfect one. Look at its purple tint! A perfect color for an heir.” He said with excitement.

“Thank you Aemond, you are too kind.” You spoke with sweetness. Harwin came to sit next to you, wrapping and arm around your shoulders pulling you in closely.

“A smooth labor I hope?” He asked.

“Did you hear Drogar screeching?” You asked him in return. He nodded, “it was painful, but she’s here.” You said. Alicent and Aemond walked out your doors leaving your new little family alone. Just then a large black figure landed on the roof next to your balcony, Drogar. His nose peaked into your room sniffing its air.

“I suppose nosey wants to smell her. Can you walk her to him?” You asked.

“Is it safe?” He asked, worried.

“He knows you. He trust you, now show him our little one.” You demanded. Harwin took your daughter up to Drogar. He sniffed a few times before flying away. You smiled.

Harwin could see the tiredness in your eyes, “go to sleep love. I have her.” He spoke as he sat back down next to you. You rest your head in his lap and sighed, “Avy jorrāelan,” I love you, you said quietly.

“Avy jorrāelan, my dear.” He whispered stroking your cheek.

[busines-as-unusual]

˖ ࣪ ⭑⟡Chapter 9 - And How Do You Manage? ⟡⭑ ࣪ ˖

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Content Warning in this chapter for: sexual harrasment, unwanted touching, and bad puns

You were sick. More so than usual.

Ever since that night with Alastor, you had a knot in your stomach that refused to go away.

Thankfully there was no shortage of work to keep your mind too busy to ruminate. Work with the hotel was smooth sailing. Music was planned, auditions wrapped up— as predicted Angel got a lead role— and rehearsals were underway. Between that and running your bar, you had no time to dwell on how Alastor caught you during a horrifically vulnerable and revealing moment.

You didn’t fixate on how tipsy you got and how that made you bold enough to initiate touch with Alastor. Or how he didn’t push you away and how amazing that felt. Not a single time. Especially not at night when you tried to sleep.

You certainly didn’t think about how whenever you and Alastor met in the hotel to review event progression he treated you no differently than before. How he behaved like his usual cordial, charming, irritating self, and never mentioned what happened that night.

You absolutely did not consider how he caught you at your lowest, knew your greatest shame, how he saw you… and nothing had changed.

Did you appreciate that? Or did you resent him for crossing that boundary with you without permission? Did that change the nature of your relationship with Alastor? Or was it foolish to consider that at all? Maybe it was foolish to think any of this mattered. Would ruminating on this drive you mad? Was that what Alastor wanted? Was that his game plan?

You didn’t know because you weren't even thinking about those things. None of these thoughts crossed your mind, not once, not one time.

And you definitely weren’t looking for Alastor as you, Charlie, and Vaggie assessed the hotel’s amphitheater. Nope! You were a businesswoman doing serious business things with professional-level focus.

The hotel’s amphitheater was beautifully grand: Plush red leather chairs wrapped around in a semicircle of the large golden stage with ornate apple designs and a tall satin curtain, white instead of red. Chandeliers made of hundreds of multicolored crystals sparkled overhead.

You couldn’t have imagined a better place for the performances. A part of you worried there were too many seats, but Charlie was confident every one would be filled. For whatever reason, you trusted her gut.

Crew members scurried around, cleaning or testing equipment. A flash of red in the corner of your eye; your head swiveled so fast your neck cracked. It was Niffty, scurrying along the seats and chasing some fuzzy, bug-like vermin with a sewing needle, getting close but no cigar.

“Hey, Niffty,” you called. She eyed the critter with a murderous intent before scrambling over with her usual big, happy, smile.

You fished out one of the knives from your garter and presented it to her. Instead of taking it, she stared wide-eyed in awe at you; The Lady of the Lake handing her Excalibur.

Charlie and Vaggie frowned with concern. Vaggie waved a hand in front of Niffty’s face. “Uh… Nifft? You good?”

Finally she spoke, her voice quiet. “Am I worthy?”

You played along. “The worthiest, my dear.”

Cackling, Niffty snatched the knife and jumped back into the hunt, weaving through crew members’ legs and knocking a few of them over. She chased the varmint onto the stage.

You cupped your hands, shouting, “Save me the bones!”

“Gotcha!”

Niffty swan dived off the stage and chased the critter out of the amphitheater, laughing like a mad woman drunk on power.

Oh god, what have you done?

You turned to the girls. “I’ll take full responsibility for the damages.”

“Oh, don’t worry about her.” Charlie waved away your concern, her smile uncertain. “I’m sure it’ll be fine—”

A distant shriek of pain— that could’ve been from anyone for any reason— confirmed her sentiment.

“Anyway!” Charlie clapped her hands and spun on her heels. “Things look like they’re going well here. How about we meet with Husk and go over the refreshment situation?”

It was bound to happen sooner or later.

The wall behind your headboard was thoroughly wrecked; peeling paint and crumbling plaster revealed the ragged brick underneath. Once again, your talent for picking lovers was a blessing and a curse.

Mostly a blessing.

You called some of your employees to have it fixed, and figured you might as well have the room repainted while they were at it. The whole process would be a few days at most.

Your home was made to entertain guests, not keep them. You needed a place to stay in the meantime, so you packed some clothes and your essentials and did what you promised yourself never to do… you checked into the Hazbin Hotel.

You could’ve stayed with Mimzy, it’s been a while since you’ve seen her. Or with Rosie and caught her up to date about all those things you weren’t ruminating on. You had plenty of acquaintances who would’ve let you crash on their couch for a few nights, but in the end you succumbed to impulses you knew would bite you in the ass later. You were a child told not to touch a hot stove… in this weird metaphor where you were also the mother telling yourself not to touch the hot stove.

You were your own worst enemy. Maybe your mother was right.

An energetic Charlie greeted you at the hotel, oh-so happy you’d be staying for a few days, followed by Angel, oh-so happy to finally have a night off from dealing with Valentino’s bullshit.

A night like this couldn’t go to waste, so Angel called Cherrie, and you along with Husk hit up Consent, the nightclub you’ve heard so much about.

It was either that or stick around and risk having an awkward conversation with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Ruminated-On.

Of course, you had to change out of what Cherrie had poetically dubbed, “old granny lingerie.” You wrangled together an outfit more befitting of a modern setting. You had a short wine-colored dress you accessorized with a leather chest harness with Succubi wings (because you used every excuse to wear it in and out of the bedroom). Once Cherrie squished your cleavage and mussed up your hair, you were deemed acceptable to leave the hotel.

Modern clubs weren’t really your style, but Consent was a pretty decent joint. The place was teeming with infectious positive vibes and the music was decent. At least you had a great time shaking your ass after a couple shots.

The thumping music and flashing lights moved you, and for a while your mind was free and blissfully numb as you danced with the Cherrie and Angel (drinking was more Husk’s speed). Cherrie ribbed you for how you danced, while conversation with Husk was a welcomed reprieve from the dance floor. The entire night, Angel insisted on taking pictures with everyone between shots of tequila and shots of even more tequila.

Speaking of which, it was your turn to buy drinks for the group. You brought them over to the corner table where your friends gathered and presented them all with a flourish and a big, drunken grin. “Voila, mes amis! Afterlife-saving alcohol. Buvons!”

“Don’t spill the good shit!” Cherrie laughed, helping you set the drinks on the table.

The four of you toasted with your shot glasses before shooting them back. It burned deliciously all the way down, warming your cheeks and relaxing your muscles.

You slammed the glass on the table with a big, contented sigh. “Ah! Just what I needed.”

“You’re telling me,” Angel said. “You’ve been tense for days. Somethin’ happen, toots? Ya ain’t getting laid enough?”

“Pffft! No! To both. I’ve been… overworked, ‘sall.” A very convincing dismissive wave of your hand. “Y’know with the event and my club and… stuff.”

Husk mmm-hmmed knowingly, eying you but staying quiet. As long as you’ve known him, he could see right through anyone and everyone. His six sense was what made him such a good gambler, good enough to be quite the Overlord, once upon a time.

“Well, maybe there’s been something… but it’s whatever, y’know. Hardly interesting at all.”

Cherrie leaned in, playfully jostling your shoulder. “C’mon! Spill it, bitch. You’re drunk enough to overshare.”

You considered it for a moment. Alastor already knew about the worst thing to ever happen to you. Telling these three how you felt about him couldn’t be any worse… or if it was, your fuzzy brain couldn’t produce the reasons.

Your fingers drummed the table. “I’ve been suffering… from a certain infliction…involving Alastor.”

“Certain inflict— the fuck are you on about?”

“She means she has it bad for Alastor,” Husk said before taking another swig of his drink.

Your fists pounded the table, mortified. “Husker!”

“What? It’s the fucking truth.”

“Seriously?” Angel asked in genuine surprise. “You have a thing for Freaky Face?”

Cherrie laughed. “Well fuck me double dead!”

You covered your face with both hands. “Is it that obvious?”

“Pretty much.” Husk shrugged. “I have no reason to give a fuck and I still noticed.”

You groaned, and dropped your face flat on the table, drinks clattering from the force.

“You wanna fuck the creep?” Angel asked.

“What?!” You lifted your head, chin on the table.

“I said…” He cupped his hand to his mouth and yelled over the music, “‘You wanna the creep?!’” His outburst earned your table a few semi-interested side glances from passers’by.

“Oh!” You laughed, flopping backwards in the booth. “Abso-bloody-lutely! The moment I saw him I wanted to jump his bones.”

Actually, the thought that ran through your head the night you first laid eyes on the drop-dead gorgeous stranger with the glasses and killer smile was that he looked like danger, vice, and sin… and that he probably ate people. It’s what spurred you on to steal him away for yourself.

No one ever said you were a well woman.

“Hold on a sec.” Cherrie brow creased over her eye and looked at you skeptically. “Ya serious with me right now?”

“Of course. Have you seen him?”

“Exactly why I'm askin’.”

You scoffed. “You must have cataracts because he is so goddamn fine, a certified looker and I am always looking. Very disrespectfully, I might add.”

“Look,” Angel said. “I'm not saying he's unattractive—”

“I am.” Husk and Cherrie said in unison.

“—but he's, like, the physical embodiment of a fuckin’ nightmare.”

“He is, isn't he?” You sighed dreamily, slanted smile on your face at the thought of Alastor. “I remember the first time I saw him grow in size to eat a person whole. He unhinged his jaw like a goddamn snake. I couldn’t sleep for days! And those weird magic tendrils he has make me—”

“No!” Husk held his hand, his face awash with absolute disgust. “No. Stop, goddammit. I’m trying to keep this shit down tonight.” He took a swig of his drink, as if to wash down your train of thought like vile medicine.

“Twenty or thirty years ago, I saw him with his coat off and his sleeves rolled up. His bare arms?” You fanned yourself dramatically at the memory. “Oh! I could double die!”

Cherrie laughed, smacking the table. “Girl, come on! You’re actin’ like some Victorian prude seeing ankles for the first time.”

“Sounds about right. I was raised by two of them.”

Angel frowned. “I thought you lived around my neck of the woods?”

“Mon ami.” You put a hand on his shoulder with a cheeky grin. “They’re called boats.”

He flipped you off with three-fourths of his hands; you and Cherrie burst out laughing.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Angel waved away your jest. “So Creepy Face makes you dehydrated, huh? Why haven’t you jumped his spooky bones yet?”

I cringed like he suggested I chew on broken glass for fun. “Be serious, Angel. You live with the man. You think he’d ever be receptive to <i>anyone</i> jumping his spooky bones?”

A shrug of both sets of shoulders. “Eh, fair. I always got the feeling he didn’t play on any team.”

“And that’s fine, y’know? I don’t want to change him or anything, but when it comes to Alastor…” You grabbed another shot and swished the clear liquid around in the small glass. “I’m a dizzy yuck carrying a torch for the gigglemug and I’m going mad as a box of frogs.”

“Uh, in fucking English please?” Cherrie asked.

“She means she’s down baaa-aaad.” Angel sing-songed, waggling his brows.

Cherrie chortled, throwing you a look of mock sympathy. “Aww! You want him to be ya <i>boyfriend</i>, ya sentimental mug?”

They laughed, and Husk shook his head in pity.

Thoroughly humiliated, you finished your shot. Then two more… and then one last shot for good luck. “Thank you all for the wonderful evening. Excuse me while I go play in traffic.”

You stood, but Angel grabbed you by the arm and pulled you back down. “Relax, toots. We’re just razzing ya.”

“Yeah, chill out, ya drama queen!” Cherrie slid over one of Husk’s tall glasses of alcohol, much to his annoyance. “Here’s what you’ll do. Down some liquid courage and screw the next guy you see. Random dick best medicine for a broken heart.”

Your nervous laughter was unconvincing even to your drunken ears. “A broken whaaaaat are you talking about? You… silly little lady.”

Cherrie rolled her eye. “Uh huh. Start chugging, skank!”

Husk argued this was a terrible idea, and Angel ended up playing mediator between him and Cherrie. You heard none of it as you downed a pint of whatever in six seconds. It was sweet and terrible, like dirty sugared nail polish.

A rush of warmth rolled through you under your skin, making you shudder. You stood with the empty glass, holding it by the rim. “Mish we luck, darlings!” Purposely, you dropped the glass, and ignored the shouts of protest around you as you bantered back onto the dance floor.

It didn’t take long for an over eager demon to approach you. You’d spotted him eyeing you earlier but didn’t pay him much mind. He was some type of weasel-faced demon with jagged teeth and a jacket over a garish button up.

You stilled as unwanted hands snaked over your hips from behind, making your skin crawl. Cologne flooded your nose, making you gag.

“Hey, honey tits. You’ve been dancing all night. Why don’tcha kick up your feet and sit on my face a while?”

No fucking thanks.

You looked at him over your shoulder, red lips curled into an unamused smile. “That couldn’t have worked for you before.”

He chuckled with unwarranted smugness; rancid beer breath wafted over your cheek. “Come on, sexy.” A squeeze of your hips, an unwelcomed hump against your ass. “Bet I can show you a good time.”

“For some reason, I’m doubtful.” You wiggled from his grip and turned to face him. “I must ask you to, respectfully, piss off. But please do have a terrific night, you noisome sack of soiled taint.”

You turned to walk away, but he grabbed at you again like he had the right, tugging on your tail, hard.

The ghost of a smile lived on your face as you swallowed down a terrified yelp. “You’re gonna take your fucking hand off me.”

He scowled like you were piss on the sidewalk he stepped in. “Look at Roman’s favorite little slut thinking she’s better than she is—”

A flash around your fist; you introduced his mouth to your brass knuckles. The bones in his jaw caved before he crumbled like a ton of bricks at your feet. All at once the music cut out as dozens of eyes suddenly locked on you and the man you sucker punched.

Your friends at the table stared at you, stunned. “What the hell?” Husk shouted. “It hasn’t even been a minute!”

“Oh shit!” A group of about ten or so men ran to the passed out bastard at your feet. “Oi, what the fuck! You killed Ricky!”

The bastard in question stirred, rolled over, and spat out a few bloodied teeth.

You motioned to him like a sack of laundry. “Ricky’s right as rain, fellas. What’s the problem?”

No surprise, you were the problem, if the several guns aimed at your chest were any indication. Angel, Cherrie, and Husk rushed to your side, guns, bombs, and cards out in defense.

Fist to jaw, you cracked your neck from side to side. “So you wanna dance?” You grabbed one of your thigh knives and flicked it, the blade extending to the length of your forearm. “Let’s cut a rug!”

“Oh, hell yeah!” Cherrie whooped, tossing a bomb up and catching it with one hand. “Let’s fuckin’ go!”

And fuckin’ go you did.

You rushed the nearest goon. Ducking under his firing gun, your blade cleaved clean through his kneecaps. He howled and toppled over, severed legs left standing right, blood spurting like a busted fountain.

Soon the battle unfolded into a blur of carnage and unadulterated violence. The crowd, desperate not to get hit in the crossfire, screamed and fled out the door in droves. A flurry of bullets, blood, and explosions rocked the building. You caught glimpses of the others through the chaos and smoke: Angel gunned down the larger guys in the back. Husk, quick as a whip, threw his playing cards, slicing through torsos and necks. Cherrie threw her bombs with reckless abandon, her laughter accented with explosions. And you twirled light on your feet, slicing and dicing with experienced ease.

The smoke cleared, the fight ending faster than it started, the night capped off with the four of you surrounded by massacred bodies and rubble. You ended up cutting a juicy fat check to the extremely pissed off owner.

The four of you rode the high of victory all the way back to the hotel, laughing and talking way louder than necessary. After exchanging good nights, you shuffled to your room, singing under your breath and rummaging your purse for your room key.

“Quand il me prend dans ses bras… Il me parle tout basaaassSHIT!”

Where was your key? You dug through your purse, even dumped the contents on the floor. Lipstick, condoms, and spare tampons spilled on the floor, but not your room key.

Shit.

Shit shit shit!

Husk wouldn’t be able to get you a second key until morning, and you had no idea what room he or Angel slept in. That left…

“… shit.”

You knocked on the door three times. Thirty seconds passed, a minute, the silence painfully deafening. You contemplated sleeping in the lounge when the door to the Radio Tower eased open.

“Ah, salut!” You leaned on the door frame and nearly stumbled. Despite your nerves, you couldn’t hide your dopey happy grin. “There's the man I wanted to see!”

Alastor's permanent smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Temerity! What brings you here at this hour? And in such a state?”

Oh, right. Once again you stood before Alastor splattered in the blood of your enemies. You two had to stop meeting like this.

“Listen, my door is all—” You clicked your tongue and pantomimed turning a key in a door. “And I need you.”

“To unlock your door?”

“… yes, that.”

A look flashed across his face you had no hope of discerning while inebriated. He stepped through the door and whirled his microphone behind him.

“I see! Well, I’m more than happy to be of assistance!”

You figured he’d use his freaky voodoo/hoodoo powers to summon a key, instead he strolled down the hall. Seconds passed before your three remaining brain cells figured out you should follow him. Alastor stopped in front of your room door. This was his way of messing with you, letting you know he knew where you slept.

…or maybe you were paranoid, but what was more likely?

Once at your door, he tapped it with his cane and the door eased open with a glowing green light. “There you are, my dear!”

“Merci beaucoup, Al-a-stor~”

You blew him a kiss and spun into the room, confidently inelegant. Alastor couldn’t help his hum of amusement. Even this sloppily drunk he found you to be more amusing than unsavory.

Alastor turned to leave when a terrified “Oh, bollocks!” stopped him in his tracks. Seeing you dig through your bra was not what he expected.

“Wait! Never mind.” You pulled your hand free and dropped three small white blobs on the dresser with a clatter. Teeth, Alastor realized. Sharp and jagged canine-like teeth.

A twitch in his eye as he regarded you. “Temerity, why were there teeth in your undergarments?”

“They’re not mine.”

Speechless. He was speechless, brow furrowed, head tilted to the side. Your blasé attitude left him with more questions.

You seemed to mistake his expression for annoyance. “‘m sorry about this. I know it’s late. I bet you were sleep sleep.”

“Not at all, actually.” He and insomnia had a complex relationship, to say the very least.

“Why? Because sleep is the cousin of death, or because it’s stupid?” You struggled with the lascivious harness strapped across your chest, pulling it off with so much force you nearly fell on your back. “We’re dead! Why do we even need to sleep? Or eat? Or have sex?”

Well, he could agree with two out of three of those things.

Alastor casually dusted off an outstretched sleeve and fixed his suit. “A very astute question, my dear. I’m afraid you’d have to ask the feathered schmucks stairs,” he said, using your own words from the other night.

You snorted, laughing behind a blood-speckled hand. “Alastor! Lord, you alway make me laugh…”

You rolled on your stomach, swinging your feet in the air and beaming at him with pure admiration, expression unfiltered due to your intoxication. “Remember that time at the bar? Those clods yapped and yapped about their old ladies, going on and on, and they started needling you about ‘your gal’ and you went—” you sat and cleared your throat, pushing up imaginary glasses. “‘My gal made a great meal, but I sure do miss her!’”

Alastor’s eye twitched. Your impression of him left much to be desired.

He didn’t listen as you went on to describe the night, because he recalled it clearly. He remembered that night decades ago at the speakeasy Mimzy worked. He’d spent many a night there schmoozing, drinking, dancing, prowling for possible prey.

In particular Alastor remembered the dark-haired, bright-eyed woman with far too much confidence who spirited him away to the dance floor, proudly declaring, “You look like a fella with stamina! You’re my partner now!”

He remembered sitting at the bar with you after hours of dancing and a few drinks in, hazy with smoke and surrounded by faceless dregs who jabbered on and on about uninteresting manners. His joke— really his attempt to steer the conversation off course— was received well by you alone.

Smile lines crinkled around your eyes as you snorted. Without skipping a beat, you said, “How sweet! My man only gives me the cold shoulder.”

He grinned, hardly noticing or caring when the others retreated from the bar. “To think he’d treat a dame like you so poorly. How tasteless.”

An exaggerated head shake. “I’m thinking of throwing him out.”

“In that case, I’d love to have you for dinner sometime.”

You leaned in, your permanent self-assured grin replaced with one of girlhood giddiness, in stark contrast to the jokes about cannibalism. “As long as it doesn’t—“ you stifled a laugh, “doesn’t cost you an arm and a leg!”

“Of course not, dear! Perhaps afterwards we can have a nice chat over a cup of Joe.”

You lost it, conceding to him the win in the battle of cheesy puns as you giggled like mad and wiped away tears.

Back in the present you swiped at tears of laughter and threw yourself back on the bed. “We were so dumb! It wasn’t even funny, I just—” A deep yawn rolled through you, “…appreciated your commitment… to the bit…”

You went silent, a soft rumble as your breathing deepended, and you fell sound asleep in an instant. Alastor would almost admire the ability… if it wasn’t simply because you were drunk. He’d seen you tipsy before, from afar at functions. Even when you two met you weren’t as wasted as this.

In your inebriated state you didn’t know what you revealed. Despite your candor about discussing your life on earth, you never mentioned your shared history with Alastor before meeting again in Hell. He thought you’d forgotten, but clearly that wasn’t the case.

He had to keep that in mind.

While brief, meeting you was a splendidly memorable night. At the time, he regretted never having the chance to meet with you again, despite your insistence that the two of you should. Someone like you was a rare fine, a true gem among the clods.

Alastor sensed you held similar secrets to him. Not necessarily that you killed people, but he could tell you protected yourself with charisma, hid behind smiles, and kept your true identity hidden within the depths of your soul. Despite your charm and wit, none of the people in your entourage stayed by your side as the night progressed.

Perhaps if one had you wouldn’t have met your fate that night…

Well! Enough reminiscing for one night! It was time for him to return to his Radio Tower, but once again something stopped him.

He looked over your sleeping form. Gentle snoring rumbled in your chest like distant thunder, a soft exhale escaped your parted lips. Your blood red heels (that most likely weren’t that color when you put them on) dangled over the foot of the bed.

His smile twisted as he took in your vulnerable sleeping body. What was it you said to him the night he found you, splashed with crimson in the same manner? Only an absolute fool would trust him absolutely.

Yet here you were, willing to be vulnerable in his presence.

Alastor could only fathom falling asleep in front of Rosie, but their relationship was the exception that proved the rule. While he meant you no physical harm and knew you didn’t fear him, it was appalling to him you’d choose to put yourself in this position.

Frankly, it was pure foolishness.

Perhaps the alcohol was to blame, but he doubted it. Coming to him was one option of many and you chose him. You trusted him.

For reasons he didn’t quite understand he found himself kneeling at the foot of your bed, ready to remove your heels.

It would’ve been more interesting to do this when you were awake. After all, most of the joy of violating one’s personal space came from annoying them, drawing expressions and reactions from them by mere proximity.

Would you be appalled and act disgusted by him violating your boundaries? Perhaps given your state you’d finally give in and confess to him. That could be fun, but nowhere near as satisfying if you did it clear headed, cognisant of the consequences.

Alastor found himself doing it anyway, gently slipping off one at a time and setting them aside. He knew first hand one shouldn’t sleep with shoes on.

Your skin flecked with blood reminded him of that night he saw your mask shattered in the perfect marriage of theatrics and brutality. His eyes glance to the blood smattering the fat of your thighs. An unfamiliar pang ached in the center of his being, a feeling he could only register as hunger.

How peculiar…

The feeling caught him by utter surprise. His taste in flesh never included friends; his psyche deemed them off limits and he was unable to view them as food.

But looking at you defenseless and covered in blood— like a wounded lamb purposefully dragging itself into the lion’s den— the uncomfortable longing stirring in him had to be hunger…

Alastor stood, more quickly than necessary, forcing his eyes off you and onto your room. Then he saw something that forced that feeling to rise into his chest, a final revelation before he vanished into the shadows.

Your radio from home sat on the nightstand.

A/N: Sorry I haven’t uploaded in a while. I got really depressed, got addicted to ai chatbots, and forgot how to write…

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Lightning Bug - Chapter 18

Master list 

Warning: this chapter mentions self-harm and a depressive episode for our reader. Lots of angst. 

Word Count: 4.3k 

“Any changes?” Natasha asked her girlfriend as she walked into the kitchen, an empty bowl in her hands. 

“She ate better than yesterday,” she put the plate in the sink. “But she still hasn’t said a word.” It seemed to be the trend. The young girl stayed locked in her room since the car incident. That was 3 days ago. They feared that they were gonna have to get Helen involved because of her lack of eating but she began to eat what Wanda brought her. 

“I’m getting worried,” Kate said, playing with the spider-shaped necklace around her neck. It was a gift from Yelena when the couple first started dating. Yelena wore an arrow, similar to the one that Clint gifted Natasha. But the Black Widow was getting worried too. She even called Laura asking for advice. The mother of three gave the best advice she could, being a little out of her element since her three didn’t have powers. 

“She needs to work through this,” Natasha said. “And when she’s ready we’ll be here to catch her.” The whole tower seemed to be affected by it. But America seemed to have taken it the hardest, spending more time at the Sanctum and traveling the multiverse. The elevator opened and Maria walked out, holding a folder in her hand. “No,” Natasha found herself saying before Maria opened her mouth. The agent smiled. 

“I’m sorry but Fury asked for you and Wanda,” Natasha grabbed the folder out of her hand. It was nothing dangerous, just smooth talking with some politicians. She slammed the folder close, a little harder than she attended. 

“Have him send someone else?” Wanda took the folder from her. There was no way in hell she was leaving the tower. 

“Don’t you think I tried, Nat,” Maria opened the fridge and pulled out a beer. “We are stretched thin,” she popped open the beer and took a long sip. It was only 11:30 but Natasha saw the bags forming underneath her eyes. “I know things are tense but I don’t have a choice. 

“Sestra,” Natasha looked at Yelena. “We’ll make sure she’s okay.” There were times like this Natasha hated her job and envied Clint. She wished she had a house in the middle of nowhere with no missions or need to train. Her family was happy and safe on a few acres of land. But there was so much red in her ledger for her to stop now. 

“Fine,” she said. “We’ll do it but Fury owes me,” Maria smirked, chuckling. 

“That list keeps getting longer and longer. 

*

The world around you seems muted, muffled as if you were submerged underwater. Nothing was clear, everything sounded far off as you stared ahead. You had no energy to move from your bed. Every bone in your body ached and your head felt fuzzy. The only interaction you had was with Wanda bringing you food. The interaction was a loose way you’d describe it. Wanda did most of the talking, you weren’t even sure what she was saying. But you ate the food even though it tasted bitter so they wouldn’t worry. And you knew they were. You couldn’t pull yourself out of this pit you were in. Every Time you tried to crawl your way out you were pulled back in. It was an exhausting, endless cycle as your mind degraded you. Monster. Freak. Killer. Worthless. You believed every word. 

When your door opened you were sitting up, coloring on a piece of paper. It was the only thing that you could bring yourself to do. The music was too loud. Reading seemed too hard. And practicing Russian left your brain fried. You were expecting to see Wanda unsure of when the last time you saw the witch. But Natasha walked in with her girlfriend. “Hey dorogoy,” she said, sitting down on your bed. Your legs were crossed so she sat closer to you than expected. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” Horrible. Bad. She smiled. Your throat was a little sore from disuse. Wanda chose to stand behind the Black Widow. You felt uneasy. Did they finally have enough of you? Were they here to kick you out? 

“That’s good!” Wanda said. You nodded. “Nat and I have to leave for a few days.”

“Fury is sending us on a quick assignment,” you frowned. They were leaving because of you. They didn’t want to deal with you. 

“Oh,” you said, looking back down. “How long will you be gone?” 

“2 days max,” Natasha said. You nodded. “Kate and Yelena will be here if you need anything,” you nodded again. “And we’ll be a phone call away, okay?” She added. 

“Okay,” you whispered, glancing up at them. “I’m sorry,” you looked back down. “I’m not sure where my head is.” 

“It’s okay,” Wanda assured you. “We’ll be here when it gets all sorted out.” They were about to leave but you called out to them. 

“Be safe,” you said. “Come back in one piece.” Natasha smiled. 

“Always,” the Black Widow closed your door behind them. You thought you’d be grateful for the silence, to be alone again. But it unsettled you, it scared you. Oh, how you wished you could be back in time and stop all this from happening. 

*

A shower was the first thing on your to-do list when your head felt less fuzzy. You didn’t realize how much it would help as the warm water washed over you. It made you feel human. You were walking out of your closet, dressed in fresh clothes, and drying your hair when it hit. It came out of nowhere. The feeling started in your legs, which was new. Your legs began to tingle and your feet cemented to the ground. The feeling traveled up to your stomach and chest where you felt warm. That fuzzy feeling returned in your head. Your muscles tensed up as the wave of electricity moved through your body. Every time you thought it was done it kept going and going. Finally, it stopped. Black spots appeared in front of your eyes and the metallic taste of your blood filled your mouth. You fell to the ground, unable to find the strength to keep yourself standing. A sheering pain ran through your head and the world went black. 

*

Steve was watching Bucky read. It was moments like this that he treasured. No mission. No meeting or training. No paperwork. Just quietness and the opportunity to admire the man he loved. Steve glanced at Bucky one more time before returning to his sketchbook. “Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, Miss. Y/n fell and hit her hand. I’ve already alerted Dr. Cho.” Steve never jumped to his feet so fast and ran to Natasha’s floor. The elevator would take too long. He took three stairs and heard Bucky behind him. By the time Steve got to her door, his chest was heaving and he opened her bedroom door. He saw her, laying face down on her floor. A small pool of blood was forming near her head. “FRIDAY alert Yelena and tell her to get back to the tower.” Steve bent down to pick her up but Bucky placed a head on his shoulder. 

“She doesn’t like skin-to-skin contact,” he said. Steve pulled off a blanket from her bed and carefully picked her up, being mindful of not touching her skin. 

“Miss. Belova is on her way back,” the AI said. “Should I contact Miss. Romanoff and Miss. Maximoff?” 

“Negative, FRIDAY,” Bucky said, following Steve to the elevator. He looked at his boyfriend as the doors opened. “It’s probably better if one of us tells them and not an AI.” He was right. Steve looked at the unconscious girl in his arms and prayed to whoever God was listening that she would be okay. 

*

Yelena felt her heart in her throat as she rode the elevator to med bay. They left the tower for just a few hours to try to get America out of the fuck she was in. She didn’t regret leaving because it was nice to see her friend smile again but Yelena couldn’t help but feel guilty. The doors opened and she saw Steve, Bucky, and Sam waiting in the chairs outside a room. “What happened?” Yelena asked, walking over to them with her girlfriend close behind. Steve looked up. 

“We don’t know,” he said. “Helen is still doing her assessment. All FRIDAY said was she hit her head.” 

“It could be because she hasn't been eating,” Kate said. “She just may need some food and a good night's sleep.” Yelena heard the elevator door’s open and she saw Pepper and Tony walk over. A party was happening down here. 

“What happened?” The CEO asked. 

“We were just discussing that,” Yelena said, filling in the couple on what they missed. 

“FRIDAY, can you tell us what happened?” Tony asked the AI. It took a moment for FRIDAY to respond which Yelena thought was odd. 

“It appears that Miss. Y/n has undiagnosed epilepsy,” the AI said. “This is not the first incident to occur but she asked me to not notify you when an episode happened.” 

“Epilepsy?” Steve questioned, looking at Kate and Yelena for clarification. But the Black Widow was just as lost as everyone else. Helen came out of the room, gently closing the door behind her. 

“Is she alright?” Pepper was the first to ask. “I know epilepsy that goes untreated can cause brain damage. We -” 

“Time out,” Helena said, cutting the CEO off. “Epilepsy? Where are you getting that from?” 

“FRIDAY informed us she had epilepsy,” Bucky said. “And it wasn’t the first time she had an episode.” 

“She doesn't have epilepsy and she didn’t have a seizure although her symptoms mirror it.” The doctor explained. 

“Then what happened?” Yelena questioned. Helen sighed. 

“Steve and Bucky told me of her powers. Have any of you seen her use them?” A chorus of no and headshakes was the answer the doctor received. Before the incident with Pepper’s car, Yelena believed the teen would go a lot longer without telling everyone what she could do. “She is pulling energy from around her; the beating of our hearts or the existing electricity in the room. Energy can’t be created or destroyed but it can be converted. So she uses that energy and creates electricity,” she explained. “But that energy can’t stay in her body. It needs an outlet. Similar to when you blow into a balloon. Even when the balloon is inflated you can still blow air into it. Until it pops,” Yelena connected the dots in her head. “Electricity is the same way when it needs an outlet it will make one no matter who gets hurt in the process.” 

“She’s electrifying herself.” Yelena guessed. Helen nodded. 

“From the scans we took, she’s been doing it for some time and it’s causing damage to her hippocampus,” she told the group. Yelena knew that part of the brain was related to learning and memory. “Right now her vitals are stable but she’s still unconscious. You can visit her but only 2 at a time.” The group thanked the doctor and she returned to her other duties. 

“We need to call Nat and Wanda,” Tony said. He looked at the two super soldiers. “Are you two okay with taking their spot?” They nodded. 

“Of course,” Steve said. “Will you guys keep us updated?” 

“We will,” Pepper said. “Kate and Yelena, why don’t you two stay with her until Nat and Wanda get here?” 

“I’ll call them to tell them what’s going on,” Sam added. A plan was in motion and finally, it was just Kate and Yelena standing in the hallway. Instead of going into her room, Yelena sat down in the chair Steve was sitting in. She began to play with the rings on her fingers. Each one had a different story, a different reason why she wore them on her fingers. She was so lost in thought she didn’t notice Kate kneeling in front of her, placing her hands over hers. 

“My love,” Kate whispered. Yelena looked up staring into the blue eyes of her girlfriend. “She’s going to be okay.” 

“Natasha is going to kill me,” Yelena threw her head back with a sigh. “I told her we would look after her.” 

“These things happen, Lena,” Kate sat down next to her. “And Natasha will understand that.” Yelena nodded, allowing the silence to settle between the two. When she looked at her girlfriend, the archer was in deep thought. 

“What is it?” Yelena asked. 

“Do you want to draw straws on who tells America?” The Russian smiled. 

“I’ll leave that one to you, little hawk,” Kate rolled her eyes, kissing Yelena on the cheek. 

“Fine, anything for you.” 

*

“Remind me to kill Fury,” Natasha said as they rode the elevator. She was holding onto Wanda’s hand as a lifeline. When she saw Sam’s name appear on the caller ID, she knew something was wrong. They booked it back to the tower before they were off the phone with him. Wanda chuckled. 

“You're not gonna kill him. You're just upset.” 

“And you're not?” The Black Widow questioned. 

“I am,” Wanda said. “One of us has to be level-headed and not think about murdering the Director of SWORD.” Wanda hit her hip against Natasha. The small action pulled a light laugh out of the Russian. 

“You're right. Thank you, little witch,” the laugh was much needed as the elevator stopped and the doors opened. Immediately, Natasha saw her sister, sitting alone in the hallway. Not even the sound of the elevator pulled her out of her thoughts. She gave Wanda’s hand a tight squeeze before letting go and walking over to her sister. “Sestra.” 

“Natasha,” Yelena stood up. “I’m sorry. I told you she would be okay and I couldn’t keep my promise.” 

“Hey, hey,” Natasha put her hands on Yelena’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” she maneuvered Yelena back into the chair and sat down next to her. “This is not your fault okay?” Yelena nodded. 

“You are here now and that is what matters,” Wanda added. “Have you been in her room?” The blonde shook her head. 

“Cho only wants 2 people in at a time. She wants to speak with you two. I’ll go get her,” Natasha let her sister stand up and walk to find the doctor. She wasn’t ready for this. She felt like her feet were glued to the floor. But she dragged herself out of the chair and opened the door. The air left her lungs as she stared at the still form in the hospital bed. There was a nasal cannula around her face and Ekgs on her forehead. A small gauze was on the side of her head. It took another squeeze from Wanda to get her moving and sit in the empty chair. Wanda sat across from her. 

“She looks so peaceful,” the witch spoke, breaking the silence. Natasha agreed but she desperately wanted to see the striking color of her eyes to tell her everything was going to be okay. A gentle knock on the door drew her attention from the teen and Helen walked in. 

“Hi,” she said with a smile. “I’m guessing you’ve been filled in.” She stood at the foot of the bed, hands resting on the metal frame. Natasha shook her head. 

“We were just informed that she was hurt and came right away.” Helen nodded, her smile faltering slightly. Natasha listened as the doctor explained what happened. She had to admit that she was only catching every other word but she understood what occurred. Self-harm. An act she and those closest to her have gone through. 

“Can the damage be repaired?” Wanda asked. 

“I recommend introducing light exercises to her daily routine,” her eyes went to the girl. “But the most important thing is we need to stop her from continuing the behavior,” she sighed. “It’s impressive that she’s still doing okay.” 

“She’s strong,” Natasha whispered. 

“That she is,” Helen said. “Please come get me if you need anything or have any questions.” She left the couple. 

“You're right, you know,” the Black Widow looked at her girlfriend. “She’s strong so she’ll be okay.” 

“Let’s hope it’s enough.”

*

Kate found America in the kitchen making pasta. “Hey,” she said to the archer. “I figured everyone would have their hands full so I’m making dinner,” she scratched the back of her head. “I can’t promise it will be good.” Kate sat on the bar stool. 

“I’m sure it will be great,” America drained the pasta and moved the pasta back into the pot to add the sauce. 

“How is she ?” America finally asked, stirring the pasta and sauce together. 

“She’s stable. Her vitals are good but she hasn’t woken up yet,” America nodded, leaning on the counter. “She doesn’t have epilepsy like we initially thought.” America looked up suddenly. 

“What caused it?” So Kate explained it in the same way Helen told them. Somehow it was more heartbreaking as she watched her friend's face fall more and more. “Electrifying herself? I- I don’t understand. I thought she was doing better. Wasn’t she?” Her voice cracked at the end.

“She was,” Kate fully believed she was. Before the car incident, the girl now in med bay was completely different from the girl who first came to the tower. “Even though we are healing, people can regress. It’s not linear,” Kate has seen it first hand with Yelena. America nodded. “Can I ask you two things?” 

“Sure, doesn’t mean I’ll answer them,” America smirked. The archer rolled her eyes.  

“Why are you avoiding her?” The teen sighed, looking in the direction of Y/n’s room. 

“The last time I saw her I made her lose control because I wanted to fix everything,” she sighed. “But God Kate you should have seen the fear in her eyes. I don’t want to put her through that again. I can’t.” Kate understood that as she’s been in the same position as America. It was a simple mistake but Kate didn’t realize her girlfriend was stuck in a memory. She came up behind her for a hug and Yelena grabbed her wrist, flipping her over, and spraining her wrist. But the pain didn’t bother Kate; it was the fear in Yelena’s eyes that hurt more. It was in the beginning of their relationship so they were still learning about each other. Natasha had to pull Yelena out of her spiraling thoughts and got her to talk to the archer. 

“Do you like her?” Kate asked. “More than just a friend.” She added on quickly. A small smile grew on America’s face. 

“Am I that obvious?” Kate smiled, nodding her head. “Yeah, I do. There is something about her that I can’t describe. My stomach flips like I’m on a rollercoaster.”

“A little advice,” Kate said once America was done talking. “Don’t turn your back on her no matter how hard it gets,” she was listening with her full attention, feeding on every word the archer said. “Loving her will be difficult but so worth it.” 

“Speaking from experience?” America questioned. Kate heard the quiet footsteps of her girlfriend walking up behind her. 

“Yeah,” Yelena’s arm snaked around her waist and burrowed her head in the crock of her neck. “I am.” 

*

Pepper was lost in thought as she had music softly playing in the background. It was rare that the CEO let herself sit and not busy herself with Stark Industries. She couldn’t bring herself to tackle her growing to-do list. There was guilt making its home in her bones. “You're thinking very hard for someone who should be relaxing,” Tony said, handing her a mug and sitting down next to her. Pepper rested her back against his front. Immediately, he began to massage the tension out of her shoulders. “What’s got you thinking so hard?” 

“Just thinking about the past few days,” she said after a moment. Tony hummed. 

“You care about her, don’t you?” He asked. She took a sip, savoring the taste of spiked apple cider before resting it on the table. 

“Yes I do,” she said, turning to face her husband. “And I know you do too.” Tony turned her back to face forward and continued massaging. She had a big knot on her right shoulder that Tony focused on. 

“It’s her eyes,” Tony said. “Never have I seen such child-like wonder and sadness at the same time,” Pepper nodded. “I spoke with Banner and I think we can help her.” When she turned to face him, he didn’t stop her. “Cho said this happened because she’s not using her powers. I can guess she doesn't use them because she’s scared.” Pepper came to that conclusion as well. “So what if we create something where she can use her powers and do some good? It will kill2 birds with one stone, ya know? A safe and controlled way to use her powers and slowly change how she views them.” Pepper stared at him and then finally kissed him. 

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” she said, picking up her drink. The CEO half expected Tony to run off to his lap to work on the new project but he stayed, lost in his thoughts and worlds away. “Now who is thinking too hard?” She teased, squeezing his leg. 

“Do you remember that dream I told you about before Strange came to us?” Of course, she did. She thought about it almost every single day. “Is it something you would want to do? You would be a great mom.” 

“Tony,” she said, slowly. She moved away from him slightly to look at him. 

“Tell me to stop,” he said. “Tell me to walk away from this,” he gestured to the tower. “And I will. I have that cabin upstate and we can raise our daughter.” 

“You can’t walk away,” she said. It was a pipe dream. She’s seen the incredibly stupid things he’s done as Iron Man in the name of saving others. 

“Why can’t I?” He questioned. Being with Tony, Pepper learned the man was 5 minutes away from a sarcastic comment. But as she stared into his eyes, it was the most serious Pepper had seen him. “Rogers can handle the team and if he doesn’t want it, Wilson isn’t a bad option. I’m serious, Pepper,” he laced his hand with hers. “Tell me to walk away and I will.” But she couldn’t tell him to walk away and have a normal life to raise their daughter. She couldn’t make that decision for him when he wasn’t just her husband and best friend. Iron Man was a beacon of hope for so many. It would be selfish of her to take him away. 

“I love you,” she said. “But I don’t think the world is ready to say goodbye to Iron Man.”

“Will it ever be?” He questioned. Pepper placed a hand on his cheek and he turned to kiss it. She drew circles against his skin. 

“I’m not sure,” she said. “But we’ll know when it is.” 

*

“Knock, knock,” Natasha looked up as the door opened and saw America, holding two bowls. “I come bearing food,” she whispered, noticing Wanda asleep in the chair. “I know Helen has a two-guest policy so I won’t be long.” Natasha took the bowls from the girl, whose eyes kept flickering to Y/n. 

“I can leave,” Natasha said, ready to give her spot up but America shook her head. 

“It’s okay. Can you just let me know when she wakes up?”

“You’ll be the first one on my list,” Natasha smiled. “Thank you for the food.” 

“Of course. Try to get some sleep too. Goodnight,” she waved, carefully closing the door behind her. It wasn’t long before the smell of food caused Wanda to wake up. 

“That smells good.” Natasha smiled, handing her the bowl. 

“America made it,” Natasha blew on the pasta before taking a bite. It was good, a little over-seasoned but she was grateful for any food. Wanda giggled. “What’s so funny?” She asked her girlfriend. 

“Nothing,” she waved her hand with the fork in it. “Have you ever seen America cook?” She was right. The most the teen had cooked was toast. “It’s just amazing how one stranger can change us.” 

“Is it a good change or a bad change?” Wanda smiled. 

“It’s good,” the witch said. Natasha looked at the teen, finding comfort in the steady rise and fall of her chest. She wondered if she was dreaming or did her mind offer her one dreamless sleep. Natasha smiled. 

“Do you ever wonder what hugging her would feel like?” Wanda nodded. 

“All the time,” she whispered. “I wonder when the last time she’s been hugged.” 

“Or if she’s been hugged at all,” Natasha mumbled, angrily twirling her pasta. It made her blood boil when she thought how unfair life has treated her. “We’ll ask her when she wakes up,” she looked at Wanda. “I think it will help her feel more like apart of this family.” 

“Yeah, I think that’s a great idea,” Natasha watched as Wanda reached into a bag on the floor and pulled out a book, she handed it to Natasha. It was the Outsiders. “She was reading it to you when you were hurt,” The Black Widow took the book and placed her bowl on her lap. “America says it’s her favorite.” 

“Is that so?” She opened the book to the first page. It was on the movies they made her watch in The Red Room, an American classic that was filled with their edited agenda. Kate and Peter made it her mission to show her and Yelena movies and TV shows that weren’t tainted by the Red Room. Natasha began to read, “When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I only had two things on my mind; Paul Newman and a ride home…”

_

Taglist:    @aestruvx, @toouncreativeforausername, @modedddd, @julilamoment, @mythixmagic, @yourmamacom, @vicmc624, @cherlenovix, @liliesandrosies, @whitewidowsbite, @clintsbigtoe,  @blackbirdv98

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Cloud City, Chapter Four - a Malevolent AU

"Don’t suppose you know who the King in Yellow is.”

I do.

“Wh- you do? Who? What is he?”

An Esoteric. A true god, Hastur says. Mighty; ancient and wise. He goes by many names.

AO3 || Masterpost

-------

It’s good. It’s rougher than Arthur likes, and Yang insists on making all the decisions. Arthur is not permitted to change anything, to get on top, to change the pace. He is not given any choices, but after a while, he finds it pleasant just to let Yang have his way.

It’s good. Good enough that Arthur loses himself in it, which he was never able to do with Bella, and he really liked her, though they were never officially a thing.

Maybe it’s good because he’s tired, and doesn’t want to make any more choices, and his clock is running down, and that adds an edge to everything that happens. Or maybe it’s just good because it’s good. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

And Arthur is drunk. He shouts a lot. Might have cried in there, too—that was a lot of whiskey on an empty stomach—but he has no regrets.

Before he finally sleeps, he thinks that it worked. He does feel more alive than he has in ages.

And, he thinks, maybe that’s why Hastur hadn’t wanted him to do it.

#

Waking next to Parker Yang is pretty weird, though.

Hastur is silent, which is fine, because Arthur does not know what he’d say. He’s not sure he would have done this without the alcohol. He’s not sure he regrets it even with the alcohol. He’s still feeling good, even though his mouth tastes like old socks.

Parker is out. Lips parted, eyes closed, dark lashes trembling on his cheeks as he dreams, and it’s as Arthur studies him that he realizes his left eye is dead.

It’s completely black. Nothing. Like it’s been plucked out. So fast. It’s happening so fast. Any concern that last night’s choice might have been rash or reactionary or unwise goes right out the window.

Arthur goes to shower so he doesn't have to think anymore.

“Place is going to shit,” he mutters as he kills three unidentified insects in the bathroom.

When he returns, Parker is only just up, looking fuzzy as hell, staggering into the bathroom Arthur just vacated. Arthur leaves him there and heads nude to his office. It’s time to check the damned leather bag.

It’s where he dropped it by the door; it doesn’t look like Parker went through it. He carries it to the desk, smashes the weird little bug crawling there, then cautiously tips the bag over to see what falls out.

Two thunks and a jingle of smaller metal, that’s what: a thick piece of glass, teardrop shaped, larger than his hand, and smooth; a grim-looking dagger, its blade black, its handle wrapped in strips of something dotted with small red spikes; and five metal rings.

Arthur stares. “What the fuck?”

Well, hello there, Arthur Lester, investigator, says Hastur. I’d wondered where you’d gone.

“What the fuck are these things, Hastur?”

You disappeared sometime yesterday, says Hastur, who isn’t fucking done. I wondered if I’d ever see you again. Alas, that our perfect window for investigation has passed, yet the return of Arthur Lester, investigator, still bodes ill for our enemies, for there may yet be time.

“Fuck’s sake, Hastur. Grow up."

Only if you’re done being a child.

“What I just did wasn’t exactly kid stuff,” Arthur says, using a pen to poke the glass thing.

We did not heal your wounds last night, and they are inflamed. Will you permit a minor magick now? Or are you still too afraid of the big bad wolf?

Arthur sighs and puts the pen down. “Hastur…”

I’m not your enemy.

“I didn’t say—”

I have never been your enemy. We entered a Contract like adults, with full knowledge of what was involved, and since that time, I have neither disrespected nor harmed you. I retain the right to be offended after what you said last night.

Had he… hurt Hastur’s feelings?

It makes him want to laugh. Immortal spooky spirit-servant of distant unseen gods, hurt by Arthur’s temper. “You—” No, pointing that out would just get him huffier. “I may have… reacted from pain last night. From fear. Okay? I know you’re new to this. You don’t face what I’m facing, and you never will. You can’t understand. It doesn’t matter how much I still want the result, or still think it’s worth the trade. I’m afraid.”

I understand, and I forgive you.

Hastur sounds magnanimous as some lord, and Arthur has to fight not to laugh again. “We’re good? Terrific. You still haven’t told me what’s going on.”

I can’t with him here.

“Hastur…”

Shh. He’s finished his shower. Hide the glass. Hide the dagger. Now.

Unsure why he obeys, Arthur does, picking up a bag not ruined by water and monsters and placing both objects inside, then dropping things from his desk on top of them—some clean handkerchiefs, an old case file, two books. “John, what’s going on? Come on. You’ve got to give me something. You’re acting like the world is going to blow up.”

It won’t blow up. It will go mad.

Arthur goes still. “What? Like the jail?”

“What about the jail?” says Parker, ambling nude out of the bedroom and yawning like a frog.

So now was when they discovered if it would be awkward or not. Arthur steels himself. “Hey.”

Parker waves casually. “Hey. You said coffee?”

“Sure. There. You know how to make it?”

Parker gives him a dry look and heads toward the tiny kitchenette.

Okay. So it wouldn’t be awkward. Nice.

“What about the jail?” says Parker again, opening cabinets to find coffee grounds.

“John claims that whatever struck the jail is going to strike again. He seems to have some idea what it is, but he’s also having trouble fucking explaining it.”

“Huh,” says Parker, pouring water. “That makes sense.”

“Why?”

“He’s just a Summon. What happened at the jail is outside what a Summon can do. He may have encountered something like it before, but whatever this thing is, it’s in a different league than him.”  Parker turns around and leans on the counter while the coffee percolates behind him. He’s backlit by the morning light, bronzed against the window, starkly outlined against Arthur’s shabby counter.

He looks like art.

Arthur can’t help his gaze roaming.

“This wasn’t the first time it showed its ugly mug, either,” Parker says as the smell of coffee blooms.

Arthur’s eyes go wide. “What?”

“It’s happened before, what happened yesterday. Three times. A group of people all went mad and killed each other.”

“That’s what happened at the jail?”

“Yeah. It’s a problem. A big one. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but the witches are scared.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.” Parker turns and pours them both coffee. “Every time it’s happened, the victims all died chanting.”

“Chanting what?”

“I’ve pored over it so many times I have it fucking memorized. They were chanting, ‘Terrible simplicity, irresistible truth, the King in Yellow comes.’ Don’t suppose you know what the fuck that means.”

Arthur shudders from scalp to toes, and he doesn’t know why. He’s never heard the name before, nor the chant; but it is not… a safe thing to say. He knows.

Parker sighs, bringing over the mug. “Yeah. That’s everyone’s reaction. Nobody likes it.”

“Who the fuck is the King in Yellow?”

“Most we can get is the witches know the name, but they won’t repeat it, and won’t get involved. I wasn’t kidding. They’re scared.”

“Shit.” Arthur has never seen a witch scared. Though… that one did get overpowered yesterday, when the witch paint was put down. Hm.

“So what’s all this?” Parker says, gesturing at the desk as he walks around it.

And Arthur makes a snap decision: “Spare rings. Last ones I’ve got.” As if he could afford to have spare rings.

“Right. You said yours broke,” says Parker.

“They did. Ran into some trouble near the Wastes. John and I managed, but it cost me.” Arthur sighs, looking at his hand.

One ring remains. Every popped ring was a moment when Hastur’s power surging through him would have harmed his human body. He’d have lost a lot more than one hand and one eye yesterday if not for them. The ones on the desk haven’t been attuned to him, so it means nothing beyond deception, but he starts putting them on, anyway: three empty fingers on his right hand, two fingers on his left.

“Your Summon really pulled out the stops yesterday, huh?” says Parker.

“Told you—when we’re on a case, he’s like a dog with a bone. I swear, sometimes I think the reason he took my Contract was so he could play detective.”

Hastur scoffs.

Parker steps right up behind him, puts his coffee on the desk, and reaches around to grip Arthur, his hand warmed by his mug.

“Hey, w…” Arthur forgets how to talk.

“Thinking about you for five fucking years. I’m having this,” says Parker, and lightly bites the juncture of neck and shoulder.

Arthur makes a sound. “We, uh. Don’t have time.”

“Yeah, we do.”

Arthur closes his eyes and makes no more protests. Parker holds him from behind, bites marks into his skin, and works him until Arthur’s legs shake, and he makes a mess in Parker’s hand.

And if Arthur, on his knees a moment later, catches an odd look, a strange expression cast down from on high, as though Parker wants him kneeling even more than he wants what the kneeling is for, so what? They’ve been at each other’s throats for years now, and everybody’s got kinks.

Hastur, fortunately, stays quiet until it’s all done.

The coffee isn’t even cold. “Told you we had time,” says Parker, smug as fuck.

“Sure,” says Arthur, who needs a minute.

Parker downs his caffeine. “I want you with me today.”

“What?”

“With me. On the case. You’re a material witness, at least.”

Arthur’s mouth works. “I can’t. I’ve got my own case to pursue.”

“I want you where I can keep an eye on you. If we have to do that with cuffs and a warrant, we will.”

“Fuck. That’s some pillow talk.”

“I don’t see any pillows,” Parker says, dead serious. “Don’t try to skip out. We’re doing this.” He heads off to grab his clothes.

Ditch him. We need to go.

Arthur squashes another bug. “Do you want a city-wide manhunt? Because that’s how you get a city-wide manhunt.”

Hastur growls. And you want to know why I find him suspicious. His timing is too convenient.

“Timing for what? John… come on. You haven’t even told me what this is about. I can accept that you didn’t betray me, exactly, but you’re still asking me to run in the dark.” A thought crosses his mind. “Don’t suppose you know who the King in Yellow is.”

I do.

“Wh- you do? Who? What is he?”

An Esoteric. A true god, Hastur says. Mighty; ancient and wise. He goes by many names.

“Really?” Still a little shaky, Arthur pulls out a pen and a notebook. “This could be a whole breakthrough. What are the other names?”

Oh… Hastur seems to be thinking. I have heard him called The Unspeakable One. The Feaster From Afar. The Lord of Interstellar Spaces. The Peacock King.

Arthur laughs.

Hastur huffs a little. Because, so I am given to understand, his court and his city are home to great beauty of music and art.

“Sure. Go on.”

Hastur huffs again. Zukala-Koth. H'aaztre. Dweller in the Depths.

“Heh, H’aaztre sounds a little like your name.”

Alas, not similar enough. I can hardly imagine what it is to rule such vast worlds as he purportedly does.

“Don’t suck him off, now.”

Why not? You seem to enjoy the activity.

“Asshole,” Arthur mutters as Parker returns, clothed in yesterday’s suit with one of Arthur’s shirts.

“Get dressed already,” says Parker, adjusting his tie.

“Yeah. I… you sure you need me to go with you?”

“Like I said—I have to keep an eye on you. You’re literally the only person who’s ever survived one of these incidents, Arthur. You’re it. You have to have seen or heard something of use.”

Arthur’s mind is an investigator’s mind. Parker had been talking about keeping an eye on him before the jail happened, so that didn't add up. “I don’t think I saw anything.” He frowns. “You’re telling me there are no survivors? None?”

“None.”

“Fuck.” Arthur runs his hand through his hair.

“Get dressed already.”

“Yeah.” Arthur heads to do that. “So my Summon, by the way, has some news.”

“What?”

“The King in Yellow. He knows something.”

Parker’s look is gimlet sharp. “What?”

Arthur rattles off the list of names.

“Shit,” Parker says. “He’s sure it’s an actual god?”

“That’s what he said.”

“Does he know anything else?”

“John?”

Possibly. I am sorting memories now.

“He’s thinking.”

Parker rolls his eyes. “Get dressed, Arthur.”

Arthur scowls at his tiny wardrobe a moment later. “Fucker took my best shirt,” he mutters.

Arthur.

“I have an idea.”

What idea?

“We can use whatever else you know to make him come with us. That way whatever your world-ending issue is, I have backup with two fucking eyes and two reliable hands. He can keep me where he can see me, or whatever he wants out of this, and everybody’s happy.”

Hastur is silent while Arthur dresses. That’s not a bad idea.

“So now he’s not the worst thing since sliced bread?”

No. It’s obvious you’ve made up your mind to accommodate him. I should have considered your hormonal needs over the last few years so we didn’t end up in this position. The onus is on me.

Arthur laughs. “My what? My fucking… are you out of your…”

I have something.

“Give it to me.”

I think I recognized the magick signature of the power in the jail.

“Recognized?”

We need to speak to a witch to be sure, but yes. I’m eighty-five percent certain.

“Okay. So this is big. Who would that be, and what would that mean?”

I won’t give you the answer until we are in the presence of a witch.

Arthur sighs. “You haven’t ever been this stubborn before.”

We haven’t had so much on the line before.

After a long moment, Arthur says, “You mean it. You actually think this is going to destroy the world.”

I know it will.

“Why do you know it will?”

I can’t tell you until we are with the witch.

“For fuck’s sake…” Arthur checks his tie and heads back out.

Parker offers Arthur’s spare hat. “Only one you got left. Lost your other, I guess.”

There is a message here. “Did you go through all my stuff, or just my coat rack?”

Parker smirks like a demon. “Went through more than that.”

“Parker…”

“Watching you for five fucking years.” Parker waggles the hat. “You gotta put up with me now.”

And it’s too late, and Arthur is dying. They maybe could’ve had five years of something, instead of just last night. “So this is how you deal with bad shit, huh? Deny it and move right along.” He takes his hat.

“When it’s unavoidable, yeah. No point moping. We’re late.”

“About to be later. My Summon thinks he saw something.”

“Give.” Parker turns, focused like light bouncing off a mirror.

“He thinks he might know who’s behind what happened.”

Parker’s impatience is visible. “And?”

“He says we need to get to a witch to verify it. Won’t tell me until we go.”

Parker stares. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Dead serious.”

“Tell me what he knows.”

“Can’t. He didn’t tell me. He wants to get to the witch first.”

Parker’s face tightens. Yep, that’s anger. Very short wick.

And that’s why it was only a maybe regarding the last five years. Arthur is under no delusions that he deserves something good, but he doesn’t want an angry lover. He sighs. “He’s been weird since they told me I was free to go. Which makes sense, if he saw something he can’t verify on his own.”

Parker sighs. “Stupid Summon. If you’d just been smarter about your damned Contract…”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t.” Arthur shrugs. “Hey—you’re the one who decided you wanted all this. Haven’t gotten any smarter since five years ago, either.”

The anger leaves Parker’s face. “Can’t argue that.”

“Charmer. Okay. Witch.”

Parker sighs. “Lemme make a phone call.”

“Knock yourself out.”

Hastur remains silent as Parker makes his call.

(chapter five)

[slimearchon]

Arataki Itto x GN Reader x  Gorou Turquoise Waves and S’mores

🍮- is my signature for my fics @slimearchon​

Pairing: Arataki Itto x GN Reader, and Gorou x GN Reader

Word Count: 5061

Title: Arataki Itto x GN Reader x  Gorou Turquoise Waves and S’mores

Warning: None

Summary: You and your boyfriend’s enjoy a vacation at the beach. 

(Gifs not mine credit to owners)

🍮-Your eyes winced at the blaring sun, the hustle and bustle of the Inazuma city buzzing around your ears, shouts, and cries heard left and right. The heavy wooden crate in your hands seems to grow heavier by the second.

🍮-The summer heat caused sweat to bead all over your skin and soak your shirt. You told yourself you would move the last of the boxes of vegetables you needed and then treat yourself to a nice cold drink afterward.

🍮-You owned a food stand and boasted about your fast and healthy meals to consume on the go. Your main customers were adventures visiting the city for a food restock. You suddenly wished you pursued any other job that would allow you to rest inside away from the  blaring sun.

🍮-The tent fabric you had over your humble stand did very little to block any rays and their heat. You having to stand near the hot stove while cooking definitely didn’t help either. You had just gotten your latest delivery of food supplies and worked on unloading it all from the hauling cart.

🍮-You had worked up quite a bit of sweat, salty beads sliding down your forehead and threatening to fall into your eyes. The grey pavement nearly looked white with the way the sunlight bounced off of it, stunning your eyes a bit.

🍮-The rough wood of the crates irritated your hands but you carried on, determined not to let the weather get the better of you. You signed in relief seeing only one box left on the cart, you reached over to pick it up, bending down to reach it.

🍮-A slight buzzing sound was heard in your ears, before you could ponder what was causing it, your vision clouded over and became fuzzy, you didn’t even register the pain as your head hit the floor.

🍮-Your body crumbled to the ground like a leaf floating in the wind, effortlessly.

***

🍮-“Little bug, can you hear me?” A loud voice shouted close to your head, but to your ears, it sounded like it was said down a tunnel, your eye felt like they weighed a ton, and your mouth felt like it was filled with cotton.

🍮-You tried to blink open your eyes but it was a fight you were losing, tiny flutters of your eyes moving under your eyelids, and a downwards tilt in your mouth gave away the fact that you were regaining your consciousness.

🍮-“Stop yelling, Itto. What if they have a headache? You’ll make it worse.” A softer voice rang out, you see his blue eyes looking down at you with a worried frown. Your eye finally opened but your vision was a bit blurry, only making out shapes and colors.

🍮-The most prominent being blue and red eyes, portraying nothing but concern for your well-being.

🍮-“Can you hear us, sunshine?” Gorou, asked, his fluffy ears twitching in nervousness.

🍮-You want to say you nodded your head but you weren’t quite sure if you did. A small dry cough shook your chest. Your parched mouth was making itself known once more. Itto leaves your side for a moment and comes back with a sparkling blue drink, a bamboo straw rolling around in the glass.

🍮-“Here take a sip of this,” he ordered, holding the straw up to your lips.

🍮-The sweet drink seemed to have zapped some energy into you, and you were finally able to sit up. That didn’t stop your lovely boyfriend Gorou from snaking an arm around your waist to help you stay upright.

🍮-You seemed to have been lying on a futon, your eyes skirting around the room and not figuring out where you were at. You weren’t familiar with the room. The wooden beams and dark wood furniture are foreign to you.

🍮-“Where are we?” You asked, relieved when your voice came out smooth and not scratchy.

🍮-“Yoimiya’s house, she saw you pass out and brought you here before she came looking for us,” Itto said, his dark brow still titled in his concern. Gorou was on your other side, leaning against your frame, his hand gently taking yours into his.

🍮-“You sure know how to frighten us, sunshine.” He shook his head softly, recalling the moment the blond girl ran up to him and notified him that his sunshine had collapsed. His heart had jumped into his throat at the news.

🍮-You set the glass aside and hugged your boyfriend, making sure to bring your hands up and run them to his fluffy ears to calm him down. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened, I was just putting up the ingredients and it was so hot, I should have taken a break but I just wanted to get it done quickly and call it a day.” You explained, pulling back and looking at both of your boyfriends.

🍮-Both you and Gorou were squeezed together in a big hug. Itto always gave the best bear hugs, you were sure if he wasn’t an Oni he would have been a bear hybrid. You imagine his soft rounded, grey ears on top of his head.

🍮-You held back a smile at the thought, now was not the time for smiling.

🍮-“You’re working too hard, little bug.” Itto crooned, his arms squeezing the both of you once more before smiling. “You know what this means!”

🍮-You jumped at his loud voice, his mouth not far from your poor ears. “What?” You and Gorou asked at the same time.

🍮-“Beach vacation!” Your lover whooped, flashing his pearly fangs with his big smile. His big arms squeezed the two of you once more.

***

🍮-The sun was beaming brightly but the cold ocean air made it feel more comfortable, the slightly salty taste of the was settling on your tongue, and the sand soft under your feet is warm, but not uncomfortable to walk on.

🍮-You had on a light button-down shirt that was undone and revealed your swimwear, the breeze was cool and caused goosebumps to scatter your arms and legs. You held a big cooler in your hands, unloading it from the small boat you took to the island.

🍮-“Hey! What are you doing? You’re supposed to be resting, not lugging stuff about.” Gorou glared at you, no real bite in his eyes. He came up to you and snatched the box from you.

🍮-Itto looked up from the rest of the stuff in the boat, his red eyes scanning the both of you before grinning, “Yeah, Gorou is right. Why don’t you go explore the beach while we set everything up? It shouldn’t take long.”

🍮-You huffed, narrowing your eyes at the two men, you were used to them doting on you but this last week leading up to the vacation they didn’t let you lift a single finger, Gorou even going so far as packing your clothes for the vacation.

🍮-“Fine! Can I at least get the sunscreen?” You asked, holding out your hand, Itto reached into the boat and pulled it out from one of the bags. He didn’t hand it to you, instead, he opened the bottle and poured the white substance into his hands.

🍮-“Let me help you out little bug, I wouldn’t want your skin to burn. Gorou, come over here too. Little bug will work on your back while I do the same for them.” Itto ordered, rubbing his hands together to warm the cream a bit before smearing it on your back.

🍮-You held the sunscreen and did the same, motioning for Gorou to turn his back towards you, he jumped at your cool touch. “Ah, it’s cold! It also smells terrible.” He whined, not liking the cold and slimy feeling all over his back.

🍮-“Not as cold as the water is going to be.” You hummed, making sure to leave no skin untouched. His skin was pale, you would hate to see it blistering red.

🍮-Sunburn would not look good for either of your lovers.

🍮-With Itto’s big hands he was done quickly with your back, now he was getting your upper arms. His rough hands felt nice against your skin. Soon all of you were all lathered up and protected against the unrelenting sun.

🍮-Itto went back to unloading the stuff from the boat, he pulled out two fishing rods from the ship, a big smile gracing his face at the sight of them. He looked over at his lovers, nothing but love shining in his vermillion eyes.

🍮-“I’m gonna catch us a huge fish for tonight's dinner!” He informed, already boasting about his plans.

🍮-You and Gorou nodded along at his words, both sending each other knowing looks, Itto was a great bug hunter but that seemed to be his only talent in catching anything. He wasn’t stealthy enough to sneak up on a boar, nor was he quiet enough to let the fish nibble on his line.

🍮-His patience was also very thin, he would probably reel in the line every ten minutes wondering why nothing was biting and debate if his bait fell off and that was the reason there were no tugs on his line.  

🍮-You were lucky that he had a sweet tooth, picking sweet fruits was enough to satisfy his instinct to hunt and gather for his loved ones. He always cut up the fruit himself and left the plate of fruit next to you if you were busy reading a book or going over the inventory from your food stand.

🍮-“Looking forward to it, big guy.” Gorou smiled, going up to him and kissing him on the lips.

🍮-You blew Itto a kiss before, snatching up one of your books and a picnic blanket you brought. “I’m going to go read a bit while y’all set things up, call me if you need anything.” You found a nice set of rocks to sit on, laying your blanket down to get rid of any sharp edges.

🍮-The waves drifted in and out around you. You decided to rest your feet in the sparkling water, the cold embrace of the sea gave you a shiver in delight. The boys were right, you hadn’t had a proper rest in years, you promised yourself then, that you would enjoy the vacation to the fullest.

🍮-“Sunshine! You forgot your sunglasses, you have to protect your eyes.” Gorou called, his feet making a soft sound as he ran across the sand towards you.

🍮-A pair of teal sunglasses resting on his face as well. No doubt Itto had put his red ones on, you had picked out your favorite color lenses when shopping for vacation clothes the previous week. He hands them to you and peers over your shoulder, looking at the pages of your book.

🍮-“Anything good happening?” He flicked his ears and swayed his tail, he always asked you about the books you were reading, not having the time to sit down and read one himself but also loving the excitement in your voice when you explain chapter by chapter what was unfolding in your book.

🍮-You nodded your head, “They just made it to the magical castle, I’m hoping we will find out how the main character got their powers there.”

🍮-Gorou swished his tail, “Sounds fun, you can tell me more before we go to bed later tonight. I still need to get our camp in order.” He leaned over to drop a kiss on your lips, his soft lips light against yours.

🍮-He pulled away with a grin and walked back to where they were setting up camp. “Call me if you need anything” You yelled, the waves nearly drowning out your voice.

🍮-“Will do,” he called back, knowing he wouldn’t put you to work even if there were things that needed to get done. You needed your rest.

🍮-A chapter later and you looked up to most of the camp finished, you weren’t surprised, with Gorou being an army general he was used to packing and putting up tents like it was second nature at this point.

🍮-You decided to shut your book and make your way to camp. The wind threatening to blow sand in your eye, your tinted sunglasses helping shield them from the assault.

🍮-“Everything all set up?” You asked, looking at the collection of luggage and boxes in a pile in the middle of the camp.

🍮-Itto looked up from his attention on the small ring of rocks he was arranging for the fire he was going to light later in the day, the rock he held falling into the sand with a thud before he stood up and wiped sand from his swimming trunks.

🍮-He had on a cute purple bucket hat that helped shade his face, his ruby red eyes popping out against the color. You remember it from your little shopping trip. He had  customized it on the boat ride over here when the wind was doing most of the work pulling the boat over the waves.  

🍮-He took a knife and punctured two holes on the top, now his horns easily slid through without trouble. He looked so adorable with it on. Gorou had a hat as well, it was made with hybrids in mind so he didn’t have to cut it up like Itto.

🍮-The soft blue bucket hat rested on his brown hair.

🍮-You had yours in your tote, you made a note to put it on before you went out and lazed in the waves. Not wanting the sun burning your scalp while you drifted around in the water.

🍮-Itto finally set down the last box from the boat and let out a whoop. “Who’s ready to go swimming!” He takes off his purple button-down and rushes to the shore. Gorou picked up the fishing poles and the crab catcher, calling after him.

🍮-“Don’t you want to set these up on the pier before you jump into the water? Unless you’ve given up on fish for dinner?” He swayed his tail, walking towards him.

🍮-Itto skidded to a stop on the sand, sending it up in the air causing a little dust cloud. He chuckled, his cheeks reddening with embarrassment, “Oh yeah! I totally didn’t forget. I was just messing with y’all.” He takes the things from Gorou and pecks him on the lips before hurriedly walking over to the pier and setting everything up.

🍮-You and Gorou get ready to go into the water, stripping down to just your swimwear, you decided to put your sunglasses up, not wanting to lose them in the water. You knew it would be roughhousing in the water for the first hour or so.

🍮-The excitement of the water turned y’all into kids intent on seeing who could splash the other in the face at any given chance.

🍮-Your toes slid against the wet sand as you walked closer to the sparkling blue water. Gorou already had dipped his feet into the cold liquid. He raised his lip, exposing his cute fang, a brow dipping.

🍮-He knew how cold the water could be, the front lines of the army were always surrounded by  turquoise waves. He knew once he got in and moved around a bit his body would get used to it but his body always took its sweet time to get him fully submerged in the water.

🍮-Toes, knees, hips, and finally his chest. He breathed deeply as the water lapped around him. Once he was deep enough in the waves he leaned back and let go, floating in the water like a lily pad.

🍮-You took less time getting in the water, merely walking in at a steady pace and swimming around a bit. You even dunked your head in the water to get some relief from the hot sun warming your scalp.

🍮-You popped out of the water with a relieved sigh, letting the water pull your hair away from your eyes. You looked at your floating love, his ears relaxed and resting on his head, the sun making his brunette hair seem blonder as it danced over his head.

🍮-You followed his lead and rested in the water, still standing on the sand but allowing the waves to push and pull your upper body as they pleased. The relaxing peace didn't last long, you both heard a loud whoop and then a huge splash.

🍮-Itto had jumped off the pier and into the ocean, no doubt he did a cannonball into the water. He cut through the waves with ease, in no time he was at your side, playfully splashing you and Gorou with waves. The big oni had fun lifting you and Gorou out of the water and throwing you back in the water a few feet away.

🍮-His oni strength was truly impressive when it came to lifting any amount of weight.

🍮-After a while, Gorou went back to shore to blow up some of the inflatables to lounge after you all had zapped out most of your energy playing in the water. You had bought a pump that made the task significantly faster.

🍮-Soon you were lying on a circular floaty, drifting on top of the waves. Gorou had been a dear and brought your hat and sunglass to you, taking it upon himself to dress you in both. Dropping a salty kiss on your lips after he accomplished his task.

🍮-The both of you held hands to stick together while you lazed about in the waves, it reminded you of otters who did the same while they slept. Itto had his own inflatable but he didn’t put it to use yet, instead, he was swimming around the reefs, trying to see if he could bring you both a pretty shell or even some clams to go with dinner.

🍮-After an hour of floating around Gorou, sank into the ocean and started towing the both of you to shore, his feet splashing you a bit. Once Itto burst through the ocean surface for some more air, Gorou turned his head and yelled out to him, his voice louder so the waves could carry it without distortion.

🍮-“Itto, come back to shore, we need to hydrate and reapply sunscreen.” He called, waving him over.

🍮-Itto nodded, flashing his fangs in happiness, and called back, “I’ll race you both.” He was a reasonable distance out, the two of you already halfway back to the sand.

🍮-With those words you stopped floating in your tube and sank down into the water, you kicked your legs rabidly. “Last one to shore has to deshell all of the crab meat.” You laughed, splashing Gorou as you passed him.

🍮-You reached the shore first, the current helping you immensely.

🍮-Your eyes darted back out to the blue waves, seeing a mass of white hair and red horns breaking through the waves with ease. Gorou was almost to the shore but Itto was coming in fast it was hard to tell who was gonna win.

🍮-Gorou stopped his swimming to pick up a floating mass of seaweed and chuck it in Itto’s direction. Then he booked it to shore, a loud laugh breaking from him when he heard Itto get tangled in the green mass of tentacles.

🍮-You ran to Gorou, “Winners get a kiss as a reward.” You leaned over and pressed your lips to his, the coldness of your skin warming some under his hands and arms as he engulfed you in a hug. His tongue brushed against yours, a small sigh escaping your lips as the kiss got more heated.

🍮-Thicker arms wrapped around the both of you, lifting the two of you in the air, “No far! Loser deserves a kiss too.” He whined, trying to nudge you both apart with his horns, being mindful of their sharpness so as not to prick his lovers.

🍮-You and Gorou parted, both out of breath, you both turned to the white-haired man, he was pouting up a storm. His lower lip pushed out and his red eyes were glossy with faux tears. You and Gorou laughed, both leaning over and dropping sweet kisses on his cheeks.

🍮-“Haha, now this is what I’m talking about,” He continued to carry the both of you to the camp, setting you down to finally get the fire started to cook dinner. You and Gorou were searching through your coolers for water and some snacks to eat before dinner.

🍮-You squealed when you opened the cooler and a green globe greeted you. “We have to break this open, watermelon always tastes the best after swimming.” You lifted it out of the cooler and took it to the table they had set up.

🍮-It was quickly becoming the food prep table. You didn’t have to search for the knives and plates. Gorou dropped them down onto the table as well. Before you could grab a sharp knife, the broad hips of your lover nudged you away from the table.

🍮-“I got this little bug, you go ahead and sit down, drink up, and relax.” He grabbed the biggest blade, and with one swift chop of his arm cut the big watermelon into half. The weight of the big knife was nothing compared to the big claymore he fought with.

🍮-You didn’t even have to wait a minute for there to be a bright red triangle placed in your hand. The first bite was always the sweetest. You made quick work of the first slice, the last bite not even down your throat before it was replaced with a new one.

🍮-When the fourth one was offered to you, you shook your head, “I’m good. You have it.” You brought it up to Itto’s pink mouth.

🍮-The display of his fanged teeth biting into something red reminded you of a snake swallowing its prey. You grinned as he demolished the fruit in just three big bites. The man had an appetite like no other.

🍮-Gorou was seated beside you, he had just gotten back from the food table and sat down with a bunch of small sandwiches. The snacks were meant to tide you over till dinner, not fill you up. You had snagged a tiny sandwich when he lifted the plate in offering to you two.

🍮-Rather than mess around and eat it in three bites like a normal person he opted to just shove them into his mouth like they were dainty crackers instead. Nearly polishing off the whole plate. You knew it was like a raindrop in a bucket.

🍮-The snacks would not hold him back when it came to eating dinner later.

🍮-He licked the crumbs off his fingers, throwing an arm around you to give you a quick squeeze before moving over to Gorou, taking his water bottle from his hand and taking a hearty swig.

🍮-He let out a satisfied sigh as the water nourished his body, he dropped the bottle back down into Gorou’s hand before leaning down to drop a kiss near one of his fluffy ears, still slightly wet from the ocean.

🍮-“I’m going to go check on the fishing poles by the pier, see if I got us a big catch! Feel free to come over to keep me company.” He winked and walked off towards the pier, you nodded at Gorou, wanting to go dip your feet into the water still.

🍮-He grabbed a couple of towels and the bottle of sunscreen, “Itto ran off before we could reapply.” He shook his head, with a grin.

🍮-You went over and snagged your book and sunglasses, your hat still resting on your head, you looked back at the food table and saw that Itto had left his sunglasses there, you scooped them up and held hands with Gorou as you made the small trek to and down the pier.

🍮-After a round of smearing more sunscreen on you settled down on the edge of the pier, resting a towel down on the wood to avoid any splinters or wonky nails. You could tell the sun, exercise and food were getting to your fluffy lover.

🍮-You patted your lap, beckoning him to rest. A fluffy brown mass settled down in an instant, never passing up the opportunity to rest on your lap. Itto was fiddling with his fishing poles, making sure that each one still had bait on the hook.

🍮-You began to read your book out loud, in one hand holding the thick book, and in the other lightly scratching the spot between Gorou’s ears. He let out a happy sigh, sinking into your lap and into the fantastical story you read to him.

🍮-Itto would chime in every now and then, voicing his opinion on when he thought the group should do things differently on their adventure.

🍮-The sky turned from a soft blue to hues of oranges and yellows, the colors smudging together to create a beautiful watercolor that painted the sky. You felt your lover's head grow heavy in your lap, small snores coming and going from his pink lips.

🍮-He didn’t even last a chapter into your book. You knew this vacation was just as much for him as it was for you. With your accident Itto was worried about both his loves, you overworked yourself with your food stall, and Gorou with his military work.

🍮-He worried it was just a matter of time before Gorou collapsed as well, his heart felt like it was wrapped in vines at the mere thought of both his love’s bedridden and pale. The stress of work leaves both of you drained of all of your energy.

🍮-You shot him a loving smile, the both of you quieting down after the first sound of Gorou’s snores.

🍮-When the sun finally met the ocean the both of you nodded, it was time to make dinner, and to wake Gorou from his little nap.

🍮-“I think it’s time for dinner, my loves.” Itto boasted, his voice loud but soft enough not to startle Gorou awake. You added more pressure to his head, as you rubbed between his ears, beckoning him to wake from his slumber.

🍮-Gorou didn’t open his eyes first but his mouth, a great big yawn overtaking his face. You soon caught the yawning bug and involuntary yawned as well. Teal eyes blinked up at you, a grin crawling up at his face, he had heard Itto’s words.

🍮-“Catch anything big, darling?” He asked, tilting his head back to look up at his big lover.

🍮-Itto flushed, scratching the back of his head, and not meeting his eyes. “Not today, but for sure tomorrow! But look at how many crabs I caught,” he held up the crab cage, showcasing the crawling crabs.

🍮-You and Gorou smiled, “Looks good, love. I can’t wait to eat them.” You said, leaning down to kiss Gorou’s forehead before motioning him to sit up. You got to your feet and put on your sandals.

🍮-Going to Itto’s side and hugging his arm, you knew how to separate your time between the two of them so one wouldn’t feel neglected. “I look forward to watching you peel all of those for us.” You giggled, amused by the way his face dropped when he remembered the bet.

🍮-Preparing dinner was an easy affair, the wood had melted into red ambers ready to cook a delicious meal over them.

🍮-Soon the bubbling sound of crab soup and the aroma of spices filled the air. You added some ramen noodles and vegetables into the boiling steel pot. Your mouth watering at the sight of the rich broth and red crab legs.

🍮-Dinner was quiet as the three of you slurped up noodles and gulped down the warm broth. Itto, a man of his word, peeled all of the crab legs for the both of you, he steadily dropped the soft meat into each of your bowls as the meal went by.

🍮-You both thanked him with another round of fluttering kisses all over his sweet face.

🍮-With dinner out of the way, next was dessert.

🍮-“Come on! Why does it keep on burning? I’m not even putting it directly into the fire like Itto.” You whined, looking at the blackened marshmallow hanging off your roasting stick. You had given your three failed attempts to Itto.

🍮-He ate anything given to him, and he was one of the odd ones that did like his marshmallows to be on the burnt side when it came to making s’mores.

🍮-You looked to your side, watching as Gorou bit into a gooey white bite of his nicely roasted marshmallow. He seemed to have the golden touch when it came to roasting them. Years of being in the military surrounded by campfires had sharpened his marshmallow roasting ability.

🍮-You widened your eyes at him, shooting him a pleading look, “Gorou can you roast one for me? I haven’t even gotten to eat one s’more yet.” You crooned, plucking another soft white cube from its container and placing it on the end of your stick.

🍮-You offered it to begging him to take the burden away from you.

🍮-“I can roast one for you, little bug.” Your big oaf stated, smiling at you.

🍮-You ignored him, feeling slightly bad but knowing he would just burn all the good marshmallows you had left. You waved the stick at Gorou once again. “Please, I’ll love you forever.”

🍮-Gorou laughed at your antics, already knowing he was going to roast you one the second you sweetly asked him to. He was just watching to see how far you would go to beg him. He took ahold of the stick and held it over the fire.

🍮-“Anything for you, sunshine.”

🍮-Soon you were biting into marshmallow and chocolate goodness. A delighted shine in your eyes, looking at both of your lovers over the fire and out into the sky, the stars twinkling wondrously.

🍮-You hope you enjoyed more times like this with them. Just you and your two love’s enjoying one another's company. Truly the best summer vacation you have ever had. You wondered if they had anything planned for winter.

This fic took forever to right but I am so happy I get to share it with you all now! I know summer is already at it’s end but enjoy this sun filled fic. Let me know if you enjoyed it!

Be sure to reblog and leave a note, both really motivate me to write more. Have a great day/night. 💛

[the-slasher-files]

I was wondering if I could please The Collector/Asa Emory catching his s/o working on her fear of bugs & spiders for him.

So it is not a secret that Asa is a meanie so he is probably not the perfect person to do this with, especially since he is a sadist so here we go, Mr. Meanie Collector playing with you and "trying" to help your fear of bugs. Also he might be in a suit, just saying... Hope you enjoy🔪💕

MASTERLIST --- KO-FI

CREEPY CRAWLIES

A scream tore through your throat as you felt the fuzzy, creepy crawling legs on your bare skin. The leather binding you to the cold metal table was not kind to your skin as it rubbed you raw with each jerking motion you made.

"A-Asa p-please... no" You whimpered and begged with him but you knew it was useless, when Asa had something on his mind he would always stick it through.

Watching his large frame as he circled the table, still in his black slacks and crisp white button-up dress shirt with his black tie loose, he began to roll up the sleeves on his thick forearms. Every movement Asa made was so calculated and perfect that it made you forget where you were for a second, maybe that was the idea he had for you, he always knew what the suit did to you when he came home from a long day at the university.

Asa picked up another jar that made your skin crawl, "Do you know what this is, little pet?" He asked dragging the back of his gloved hand along your flushed cheek, watching the fear in your eyes, the fear he adored so much.

Parting your pouted lips to answer but, he did it for you "It is a Leiurus quinquestriatus, roughly translated to five-striped smooth-tail scorpion." Asa spoke smoothly and almost without emotion, the voice you always pictured him using with students, the voice that gave you goosebumps on your soft skin.

"Also known as the 'Deathstalker' of the middle east." he continued, looking at the jar with a sparkle black eyes, it made your legs shake as he rounded the table, the nitrile gloves ran up your bare thighs and he opened the jar. "One of the world's deadliest scorpions, little pet."

You could hear the blood pumping in your ears with each fast pound of your heart within your ribcage, watching Asa's body lean close to your hip, just grazing his rough lips on your cool skin and with his breath hot but made you shiver. Feeling the man's large calculated hand at the apex of your thigh made your breath hitch and the cool glass jar tipped onto your torso.

"N-no... Asa, pleeeease no... I wi-" You cried with tears stinging within your eyes but you stopped immediately feeling his grip on your thigh tighten, he only had so much patience.

"Ssssh, shhh, my sweet, sweet pet." Asa cooed almost mockingly, watching the scorpion begin to crawl out of the jar and onto your trembling torso. "Take deep, calm breaths, sweet pet. If you scream he will sting. That simple."

Screwing your eyes shut the venomous creature scurried of your body, its pincers grazed your erect rosy nipples as it curiously roamed. You tried so desperately to push any thought away from the creature on your skin and just think about the man teasing you to the brink of tears.

He smirked with pure enjoyment in his haunting eyes, slipping his gloved hand down to your bare sex, gently grazing the dripping heat. "I can tell you like this. You are so wet for me, begging to be filled, but you must wait, you will always wait for me, won't you?" He asked making you obedient little head nod at him. Asa had made you his and this clear.

"... just deep breaths and I will help you through this." Asa kissed along your pelvis, tipping one finger to tease your tight pussy.

"P-please.... Asa.... Sir..." you tried with him and rolled your hips as much as the restraints would allow.

"So needy. Good little pet.... just a few more specimens." He whispered soothingly, making your eyes snap open and tug at the leather. Asa pulled away and gave your thigh a rough, unexpected spank "No more of that or else I will make you stay here all night." He warned harshly and shoved 2 gloved fingers into your mouth, shutting you up.

Doing as you were trained, you sucked his fingers making a sinister grin appear on the corner of Asa's lips. "Good, little pet." He praised and shoved his fingers down your throat more.

A garbled noise came from our mouth as the scorpion crawled onto your pulse, the stinger twitching. Closing your eyes you tried to control yourself but Asa's other gloved hand lightly slapped your cheek twice. "Keep thoes pretty eyes open for me."

[kirishimas-manly-eyeliner]

@missmorosis​ asked:

AHHKKK OKAY OKAY- how they would comfort you if you're crying?? 🥺 w/ hinata, kageyama, tsukishima, and tanaka annNNDDD I LOVE YOU AHHH YOUR WRITING IS AMAZING AND IM HONORED TO EVEN SPEAK WITH YOU SDFJKLSKDJFLKSDJF ILY ILY ILY ILYYYY

ᴀᴡᴡ ᴏᴍɢ 🥺 ᴛᴏ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ’ꜱ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴀ ʙᴀᴅ ᴅᴀʏ, ʙʙ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ɢᴏᴇꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ, ꜱᴇʟꜰ-ᴄᴀʀᴇ ɪꜱ ɪᴍᴘᴏʀᴛᴀɴᴛ :] <3 (ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴀʙʏ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ)

part 2 is linked below!

[ TW: hinting anxiety and/or depression. if you ever need help, please don’t be afraid to reach out to me, i’m open whenever you need me, it’ll be okay ]

Hinata and Kageyama with a crying reader

🌸 shoyo hinata 🌸

【☆】 school wasn’t getting better. home wasn’t getting better. you, both mentally and physically, wasn’t getting better

【☆】you were sick and tired up putting on a fake smile everyday, always hiding your deepest fears in the biggest laughs, and all you wanted was to fall asleep forever and never wake up

【☆】 hinata had left the house for another game, and said he was taking the bus and wasn’t coming home until late at night

【☆】it was around 11 pm now, and he hadn’t come back home yet

【☆】 you weren’t just “sad,” you were so tired.

【☆】 you were tired of doing the same thing every single day, you were tired of having to get up, you were tired of just-- being tired.

【☆】things were getting worse-- you realized just how empty, cold, and alone you felt in your apartment on your own

【☆】 your chest tightened as you leaned against the wall, trying to stop yourself from crying out as you collapsed onto the floor

【☆】 you didn’t want to do this anymore. you wanted to fade away, you wanted to fall asleep forever, you wanted to do something different, you wanted someone to hold you and tell you it’ll be okay, you wanted to-

【☆】 the door clicked.

【☆】 “hey sweetheart, i’m home-”

【☆】hinata’s eyes locked with yours, and even in the dark, he could read your pained and crumpled expression

【☆】 “sweetheart?” he said. his voice sounded so pained, so fragile, so shaken 

【☆】 “i’m- i’m fine,” you insisted, turning your head away as you looked down.

【☆】“no- no, i’m so so sorry y/n, i’m so sorry,” before you even knew it, he was right next to you, holding you as his fragile hands wrapped around you. he ruffled your hair slightly and kissed your forehead. “can you tell me what’s wrong?”

【☆】 you explained everything to him. how you didn’t want to get up in the morning, how you were sick of having to fake a smile, or force a laugh, and whatever it was, you were so... tired of it

【☆】 hinata started shaking his head rapidly again, and pulled you in for another hug.

【☆】hinata’s hugged you many times, sure-- but this time was different

【☆】all of the love he had for you poured out as he pulled you in closer, letting you cry and kissing your tears, your nose, your eyelids, as he cupped your face in his hands, “it’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay,”

【☆】trust me, he’s crying just as hard as you are. 

【☆】his forehead touches yours, “i’m so, so proud of you for still being here, y/n. you’re enough. you’re so much more than enough. you’re beautiful, strong, so lovely, and i’m so proud of you for still standing here. i love you so much,”

【☆】”i... i love you, too, hinata,”

🌺 Tobio Kageyama 🌺

【★】it was 2 am in the morning when you called him

【★】you bet your butt that kageyama answered not even two rings later

【★】”y/n?” he groaned. it was 2 in the morning, and he sounded half-asleep 

【★】“k-kageyama, I- something happened, please, just-- can you-”

【★】 you heard the shuffling of blankets and foosteps echoing, and you heard the feint sound of big, puffy jackets going against each other

【★】 the door creaked, and you could hear crickets outside through the call. kageyama’s breathing was smooth, heavy, and he whispered, “don’t go anywhere,”

【★】“kageyama, what are you-?”

【★】he hung up on you, and you had no idea what was going on. it was so late at night, and your brain was still fuzzy after so many mental breakdowns. you felt weak for letting yourself even break for a second.

【★】you wallowed in your own sadness, curling up in your own blankets and covering your pillow over your head. there wasn’t any noise besides the heater, and yet... everything was so loud.

【★】you heard a knock at the door.

【★】 “what the...?”

【★】you looked through the peephole to find kageyama, looking almost dedjectedly at the floor

【★】you started wiping your tears from your eyes as you opened the door

【★】”don’t you dare wipe your tears, y/n,” he wrapped his arms around you, almost making you fall flat onto the floor

【★】“kageyama, it’s 2-- 2 in the morning, what are you doing here?”

【★】“I...” he looked at the floor, but his arms were still wrapped around you. “you sounded hurt. you wouldn’t have called without reason, right?”

【★】you could have been crying about Up, or maybe something about life, or whatever it was, kageyama would have been there.

【★】“i know there are days where things just... don’t feel right, I guess. but y/n, you’re allowed to be happy. don’t let one person ruin your mood, because out of the 7 billion people in this world? you can’t let them stop you,” he kissed your tears away as he hugged you again.

【★】you had never seen him this vulnerable before.

【★】“you’re so, so strong,” and his voice broke as he let you cry.

【★】also, he didn’t release the hug until he knew you were okay.

【★】and then you two watched Up together, and you cuddled into the morning 🥺

read pt 2 here

please take care of yourself. you are important, you are loved, you are needed, and you’re valid. no matter what life may hit you with, you can get back up. you will get back up. and i for one, am so so proud of you for still standing here! please don’t ever quit, you’re amazing as you are, and i love you so much.

tag list!: @cathwritestragediesnotsins, @mari-bug, @missmorosis​, @maddiemadill​, and if you’d like to be added lmk!

[lookforthefuture49]

Ok time for a fnaf SB rant (not a bad one!!!)

Very EXTREMELY spoilery, plz be careful. I don't know how to make a cut for spoilers so just know the following is obviously filled to the BRIM with spoilers.

So.

Security breach!!!

I hear a lot of people complaining about it, and I too complain about the bugs and the story, but honestly? No matter what I see or think I literally cannot help but adore Security Breach. Like, it's so much HAPPIER than any of the older games. I know it's still pretty dark, yeah, but unlike literally every other game, most of its endings are pretty happy, even the canon one, and I appreciate that. It doesn't HAVE to be so bleak I assumed before the game even came out that Gregory was gonna die- he doesn't die in a single one of the known endings. I wa surprised but also very happy. And also, for once, the pizza plex seems mostly innocent. If it weren't for the the fact Vanny and Mr. Afton were there messing everything up, the place would be perfectly fine to continue on as it is. Literally except for the iffy management it's a fine establishment and honestly I'd go if I could it's that cool.

I do think the writing is iffy at times, especially towards the ending, but I'm really glad that the animatronics actually get like... character. Maybe except Monty, he doesn't really get anything surprisingly, but like, Roxanne is over here entirely obsessed with herself and destroyed when suddenly she can't see herself anymore. Chica can't help but eat and eat and eat even though she's not supposed to. Freddy genuinely cares about his friends and just feels very real. It's amazing. Gregory also definitely had a different character than I expected, but he's still fun and I really like his and Freddy's dynamic. Its great.

The game looks freaking amazing, finally the 3d modeling is a style I like. I never really liked Cawthon's modeling style, something about it feels weird. Maybe the texture of the characters, or just it not being good in general. Its good for most of the animatronics, but I don't like close up over used models. I think the ones that look smooth, such as many found in the Desolate Hope and the Toys in fnaf 2, are good, but models like those from Chipper and Sons and many fuzzy/textured animatronics just look off. I think Steelwool does an amazing modeling job and I absolutely love it. Cawthon does a pretty good job for most models but some just looks so weird in proportion and texture I don't like it hah.

I've rambled a lot, I'm sorry I'm continuing.

I think the canon ending and the events leading up to it are my least favorite of all the endings and how to get them. It's just so.. underwhelming. I guess thought if Mr. Afton was gonna be in the game he was gonna be a prominent figure, and would actually pose a threat. But no, he's pitiful, he's disgusting. He was so powerful in Pzzeria Simulator and games before it (and also Help Wanted) that I can't help but be confused. Honestly, I think I'm glad he had an easy defeat. I'm just tired of him coming back (not tired of Michael though please steelwool just one more game with Michael in it is all I ask PLEASE) and he's so old and gross anyway its like of course he was obliterated in like 5 seconds. His boss battle was not one of a powerful being trying to take back control again, but just this old dead dude who's probably tired of immortality already because he got the worst form of it. He literally does nothing except try to take over Glamrock Freddy, and even that fails miserably likely because of a form of the power of friendship hidden in there. It is not beyond this game to use the power of friendship trope, I can tell, they just forgot to make Freddy mention it haha. Anywhom, I think the big amalgamate thing was also stupid, because I can't tell if it's Molten Freddy or a new thing. It has the og Funtime Freddy head, has classic Chica and Bonnie, none of the Pizza Sim animatronics except the puppet, but even that's a stretch because Lefty isn't there. I'm confused on that and honestly I think if something was going to make William stay in that fire it should have been Charlie or Michael. I would say Henry but I don't think he could attach to anything. Charlie is always possessing something (the Puppet) and Michael had who knows how much remnant in him. Anyway, the amalgamate felt very thrown in, but honestly so did William, so idk.

Oh yeah I forgot to mention it but I think William's new design is literally the worst. Legit I like Scraptrap better than whatever that THING is. Why would Vanny even take his corpse and shove it into another rabbit??? Cmon! Make a new body! A NEW one!!!!! Why make him super weak and terrible like cmon you can make him anything and you didn't make him like some fancy streamlined animatronic??

I think the only cool thing about the canon ending is that you go down underground and it's the Pizzeria Sim location. So awesome.

Anyway yeah this was a ramble.

Also bring back Michael

[sickficsies-and-whumpsies]

hi! can I ask sick yuji + megumi w/ caretaker!nobara? i was thinking like a stomach bug/high fever? their friendship dynamic makes me really soft <3

Hi!! Finally, a request for the power trio, I have been waiting for this hahah!!

TW: vomiting, fever.

1.7k words, Gen.

ーーー

“No. No. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Believe me, I feel exactly the sa一” a powerful sneeze cuts Megumi off, followed by a pained groan.

Nobara rolls her eyes, arms crossed as she watches her friend pull the blanket tighter around his own shoulders, shivering like a newborn kitty, eyes glassy and watery. She sighs.

“So you’re sick, and the other dumbass is sick too.”

A nod.

“And I’m the only one available to take care of you two.”

Another nod, reluctant. Nobara exhales, mildly annoyed. “Are you positive Yuuji’s sick? So sick that he needs any help at all?”

Megumi’s whole form shakes, and Nobara thinks he’d look adorable if not for the scowl on his face, thin eyebrows scrunched together. “I heard him vomit a little before you came here. He did it a few hours ago, too.”

“Don’t make it sound like I did it on purpose, and not because you sent your dog to get me.” she huffs, “Listen, I can’t and won’t go back and forth between your rooms, so you’re either coming to Yuuji’s, or I’m dragging him here.”

The boy pauses, pensive. “Get him here, please. My room’s cleaner, and his probably smells like puke by now.”

“So be it, then.” 

She makes a move to leave, but on the threshold, she glances back.

Megumi looks dead on his feet, it’s quite a worrying sight, in all honesty. His porcelain complexion has taken a deathly tinge, cheeks flushed of an unnatural red, contrast strong against the white skin. His hair is unusually down, bangs plastered to his sweaty forehead, locks soiled and damp. 

And everything about the shikigami sorcerer’s posture screams agony, the way he’s sitting on the edge of his messy bed, blanket draped over him, whole body hunched over, weak. 

“Will you be okay for a few minutes?” Nobara asks, suddenly aware that letting her friends die would be definitely frowned upon and sad.

“I,” he swallows, throat dry, “I think s-so.” He sounds unsure, but Nobara takes his word and leaves, hurrying to the adjacent room. 

She doesn’t bother knocking. The acrid smell of vomit hits her, making her waver on the threshold for a moment before she makes a jog towards the other end of the room and opens a window, letting the fresh morning breeze rush in and purify the environment. 

“Yuuji?” she calls then, moving towards the bathroom, “It’s Nobara. Are you okay?”

She peeks inside, door slightly ajar. With a yell caught in her throat, she immediately slams the door open, flinging herself at her friend, who’s lying next to the toilet, face pressed against the freezing tiles. He’s deathly still, and the nail sorcerer’s heart stops for a second. 

But then, Yuuji moans. She immediately drops to her knees, hands hovering uncertainly. 

“Yuuji? Hey?”

The boy doesn’t stir. Nobara gingerly extends a hand, patting her friend’s cheek delicately to rouse him, “Come on, you need to move to Megumi’s room so that I can take care of your sorry asses. Yuuji? Wakey-wakey, time to get up.” The lightness of her words isn’t enough to mask the edge of concern behind them. 

But, they do the trick. Yuuji slowly blinks, sheepish, a hand moving from where it’s laying, on his side, to his face, rubbing at it. “...Nobara?” 

“You sound like shit.” she hisses, “How much have you thrown up?”

He hesitates. “Six t’mes. Maybe mo’...” Yuuji croaks out, voice broken.

“Do you think you can get up with my help?”

“But... s’nice here…”

“It isn’t. The smell is terrible and the floor is filthy.” she bits, “Megumi’s sick, too. He hasn’t thrown up, I think, but he’s running a high fever. Speaking of which…” she gently presses a hand against Yuuji’s forehead, then his neck, and his forehead again, “You don’t feel too warm, luckily. But I need to keep an eye on you both and it’d be easier for me if you two were in the same room.”

“Megumi’s sick? S’he ‘kay?”

She smiles, sympathetic, “Better off than you, for sure. Come on, now, let’s get you up. We’ll take it slow.” 

With calculated movements, and so very carefully, Yuuji sits up, eyes squeezed shut as nausea washes over him like a tidal wave. Nobara keeps a strong hand on his back, and uses her other one to grab at Yuuji’s wrist and gently drag him upright, steadying him when he tilts slightly. 

“I stink…” the boy murmurs under his breath, cheeks heating up.

“I’m sure Megumi won’t mind if you use his shower. Let’s get going, he’s probably worried. I am too. Wouldn’t want him to die under my watch, you know?” she jokes, and Yuuji smiles, albeit briefly.

On the way out of the bathroom, Nobara extends a hand and grabs her friend’s toothbrush, handing it to him, “For later.”

The road back takes an embarrassingly long time, considering that the two manage to walk the ten meters of distance between one door and the other in almost five minutes, having to stop every step because of false alarms and dizzy spells.

“We’re back.” Nobara announces as soon as they step in. Megumi’s once sitting form is now laying on his side, legs bent awkwardly and dangling off the side of the bed. 

He really just fell there, huh? 

Nobara quickly guides Yuuji to sit on the opposite edge of the bed, and makes a dash to the bathroom to retrieve a plastic basin and a plastic glass of tap water. “Drink slowly.” she says, handing the items to her sick friend. 

He nods, grateful, and lets Nobara help him to sit with his back against the wooden headboard, a spare pillow supporting his lower back. “I’ll go fetch something for the nausea after I take care of Megumi, alright?”

“Dun need to speak to me like tha’...” he snorts, weak, “M’not a baby.”

“You are. He is, too. Now relax.” she says, and despite her words, the tone is soft, caring. 

Nobara walks to the other side of the bed, and wraps her arms around the cocoon of blankets that her friend has enveloped himself into, propping the teen up and with his head on the pillow. She then lifts his ankles, and sets his lanky legs on the bed. 

Then, one after the other, the blankets are gone, leaving Megumi’s shivering body exposed, him shaking like a leaf despite the fuzzy socks and jumper. The thermometer is already on the bedside table, and Nobara is quick to reach for it and slide it under her friend’s sweaty armpit.

It beeps after less than a minute. “39,9°C? Megumi, shit, what the一 you didn’t tell me it was this bad.” she cringes. 

Once she’s sure that the boy won’t roll off the bed with his shivers and little jerking motions, Nobara heads for the bathroom, rummaging through the cabinets hastily. 

“God bless, this is one stocked med-kit.” she hums to herself, “Hot patches, for Yuuji’s stomach. Then, hm, what’s in here一 oh, anti-nausea, good, and paracetamol suppositories...” she stops, eyes wide. “The ones that…? Okay, you know what, he can handle that on his own, none of my business.”

Her muttering is interrupted by the sound of Yuuji giving a strong productive heave, and another one, dry, judging by the lack of other disturbing sounds. Nobara immediately goes back to the bedroom, at Yuuji’s side in an instant. 

“Shh, it’s okay, try to breathe deeply.” She rubs soothing circles on his back as Yuuji dry-heaves and sputters, eyes bloodshot. She briefly glances into the basin, heart clenching as she sees the water he’s just drunk. “You’re fine, you’re going to be fine. I got you some anti-nausea meds, you can take them dry so you don’t have to worry about drinking anymore, okay?”

He gives a shaky nod, breath hitched. “S’rry, m’sorry.”

“None of that. Breathe through your nose, Yuuji, you’re fine.” The gentle hand on his back never stops moving, and it takes longer than he’d like to admit for the bout and panic to die down. He sinks back, head hitting against the headboard quite violently.

Nobara is quick to hand him a pill, with a pained smile. “Here.”

And Sukuna’s vessel takes it without further ado, swallowing it down with ease, eyes shut as he focuses on his breaths. That’s Nobara’s cue to extract a hot patch from the container. “I’m going to lift your hoodie and put this on your stomach, okay? It will help, I promise.”

He nods, and she’s rapid to apply the patch. “Give it a few minutes.” she says, and instinctively brings a hand up to smooth back his hair, damp. “Rest.”

Megumi hasn’t stopped tossing and turning, hugging himself for warmth, knees drawn close to his chest. Nobara sighs. She returns to the bathroom, taking the basin with her and quickly rinsing it in the shower. Then, she grabs a clean towel, and runs it under the stream of cold water. Heedless of the drops that fall onto the floor, she moves back to the bedroom, and gingerly sets the cold towel upon Megumi’s forehead, shushing him gently when he whimpers like a kicked puppy. 

“It’s okay, this will help you. Leave it on.” she says.

Then, she sets the basin next to Yuuji’s side of the bed. A quick look at the guy is enough to tell that he’s spent, conked out, and Nobara is gentle and swift when she moves him into a lying position, on his side, head facing the outside of the bed. He barely reacts, too out of it to wake up entirely.

Finally, Nobara retrieves the paracetamol, “Hey.” she calls, delicately nudging Megumi, “I need you to take one of these. I can help but frankly, I’d rather die.” she chuckles. 

Megumi, too, is too exhausted to do much beyond a tiny smile. “Later, m’tired.”

“...Fine. But if your fever’s not down by half a degree in an hour, you’re taking it or I’m getting someone else to do it. Your choice.”

He scoffs, shivering, “A’ight.”

She sighs. She could go back to her room and come back later, but frankly, she’d feel bad if something happened to her friends during her absence. 

“Move” Nobara says, and scoots in between her friends.

“Wasn’t aware m’room had b’come a hostel.”

“Shut it, you should be sleeping.” she says, side-eyeing Megumi with an amused smile, no real malice in her tone. Once she feels her friends relax and drift off, Nobara finally allows herself to rest.

ーーー

Let me know what you think of this, and if you have an ao3 hit me up so that I can gift this to you once I post it there!!

September 5, 2021.

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Wash Day

Yall I just really want Trisskel to be a solid couple from like, day one and be happy and in love and hhhnnngggg. I have feelings. (specifically Netflix Triss and Game Eskel) 

Summary: Modern AU Eskel helps Triss with wash day when she cant use her arms. 

Warnings: Mentions of burn injuries and burns in healing process, nothing gorey, just the mention of scabs, temporary dependency, dealing with the shitty mental part of recovering from major injuries/surgeries - not fucking bathing, eskel is not flexible and tries so hard to do things right. bless, lol swearing as is usual

I’d like to put a little disclaimer that I did a bunch of natural hair care research for this but I have no experience save from helping my friend diffuse her hair before class. 

________________

Triss groaned and tossed her phone to the other end of the couch she was perched on, wiping her one good hand over her face. Her burns over her chest still weren’t allowing her much range of motion with her right arm and her hair was starting to drive her absolutely insane. Yennefer was going to come over and help with wash day, but Ciri got in a fight at school, leaving Triss to sit with an itchy, ratted, and, frankly, horrendous head of hair. 

She leaned her head back against the arm of the couch and sighed, not even able to adjust the bun Eskel had helped her with that morning. 

Speaking of…

She scooted over the couch to pick up her phone, tapping the little call icon under his nickname, “Hey, Yen can’t come over tonight. No need to pick up the wine,” she sighed. 

“Are you sure? Nothing wrong with a little treat, babe.” 

“I’m sure. It was more for her efforts than my treat anyway.”

“If you say so… How are you feeling?”

“Less shit than this morning. I’m just tired,” she didn’t add the feeling of hopelessness that went along with not even being able to bathe on her own. He worried enough for the both of them and then some. 

“I’m picking up the good wine. I’ve got one more client then I’m done. Maybe take a nap?”

“Skel…”

“I will spoil you if I want to. Oh! Look! There’s my 3:30! Bye Bug! Love you!” he hung up on her before she could protest.

She rolled her eyes as she lowered the phone into her lap, smiling a little despite her annoyance. 

Gingerly, she made her way to their bedroom and laid down, running the risk of taking out the bun to lay comfortably. She turned on a podcast she told Jask she’d listen to and hoped to zone out at the least, if not actually sleep. 

-

Triss was woken by Eskel stomping in their front door and dropping his gym bag with a dramatic thud. A few moments later she could hear grocery bags settling on the kitchen counter, the distinct sound of wine bottles bumping together reminding her what he probably had planned. 

She ever so slowly tipped over and pushed herself up with her left hand, catching a horrifying full-body reflection in the mirrored closet doors. 

The scabs and little spots that were still bandaged she was starting to get used to, but the rest of her? Looking at herself in sweats that hadn’t been changed in two days, a summer tank top with no bra and coffee stains, and mismatching fuzzy christmas socks was… difficult. Her hair was wild, all the curls stretched out and sticking together in big frizzy clumps that stuck out at odd angles. 

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It had only been four weeks. No one was going to be back to normal after four weeks. Her body was using all its energy to heal, not look put together.

Regardless of her efforts she felt the tears well up in her eyes and her breath hitch with the effort of holding them back. 

It still fucking sucked.

Eskel’s soft touch on her thigh made her jump, “Is it hurting again?”

She shook her head, opening her eyes to see him knelt in front of her with his eyebrows drawn up in worry, “No. I’m okay,” she whispered, pulling herself together and resting her hand over his. 

Eskel tilted his head, “Then what’s wrong?”

“I… I look like I fell down the garbage chute,” she laughed. It wasn’t her usual, musical laugh, though. She laughed because she knew, in the grand scheme of things, it was ridiculous. It felt stupid to be worried about how she looked when she’d lived and, well, laughing was better than more tears.

“You’re always lovely to me,” Eskel hummed, brushing her tears away with the back of his knuckles.

She leaned into his touch and took a steadying breath, “I just don’t feel like me.”

He stretched up to kiss her forehead, “I’m sorry, Bug.”

She just shrugged and squeezed his hand. 

“Yen called. I got a very long lecture on wash day and firm orders to help you wash and deep condition your hair. If you’re feeling up to it,” Eskel flashed that crooked grin she could never resist and she shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. 

“Are you prepared to follow instructions?” she teased. 

“Babe,” he raised one eyebrow, “the only instructions I don’t follow are on Top Ramen packs.”

-

Eskel seemed to have confused ‘instruction’ with ‘directions’.

“I swear to God, Eskel. You don’t have to read the ‘how to use’ blurb,” Triss groaned, sitting on a kitchen chair they’d moved into the bathroom with dripping wet hair, “Just section off my hair and do what I tell you.” 

“But I don’t want to use too much,” he protested, “This says to use one tablespoon!”

“Yeah! For natural blondes! I have completely different hair and know what I’m doing. Use half the bottle! I don’t care! Just get it fucking clean!” 

Eskel rested his hand on her good shoulder and gave her an apologetic look in the mirror, “I’m sorry. How many sections do you want?” 

“I- it’s not a number. You just- kneel down for me I’ll show you,” she pointed at the floor next to her and sighed, missing Yen more than ever. She drew little lines with her nails through Eskel’s hair as she explained just how to scrub while making the least amount of tangles possible. He watched her in the mirror and pointed to the points on her scalp she was talking about with a look of serious concentration. 

It was cute. Even if he was a little inflexible he really did want to do a good job. 

Conditioner was easier, even combing out the tangles went fairly smooth. They took a break and made dinner, breaking open the good wine. 

Just having her hair down and somewhat bouncy again made Triss feel a million times better. The sweats were exchanged for yoga pants and the tank top for one of Eskel’s sweaters too. It almost felt normal. 

They ate ice cream while he worked the deep conditioning mask through her hair. 

“You sure I’m not using too much?” he asked, leaning over her shoulder to take the bite she held up for him, nice and small so he didn’t get a brain freeze. 

“Fbe moreb fbe bedder,” she tried speaking around a giant bite of ice cream, giggling at the face of confusion he made with the spoon still sticking out of his mouth. 

She swallowed and scrunched her nose at the light brain freeze, “The more, the better. We’ll rinse it out in the morning and I don’t want any dry spots.”

He nodded and waited for her to take the spoon back before getting back to work, “Yes ma’am.” 

“Mmm, I like that.” 

Eskel rolled his eyes as she let down a new section, “Oh do you, now? I had no idea.” 

“Mhm!” she nodded with a proud smile, taking another bite of ice cream and earning a chuckle from him. 

She walked him through a couple rough twists and adjusting the plastic soaking cap before attempting to explain how to tie a headscarf. He was… truly awful. Somehow she ended up almost blindfolded before she just gave up and found him a video to follow. It took him a few tries, but eventually he got it the right level of snug. I 

She tried to tilt her head back to look at him but that pulled at some of her new scar tissue, so she tried another angle and another before she huffed and resorted to standing up to look at him, “Thank you Skel.”

“No problem, Bug,” he hummed, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her nose. 

Triss laid her head on his chest, the perfect height for him to rest his chin on top of her head, “No, I mean it. It… helps. A lot.”

He rubbed soothing circles over her back, swaying them slightly, “I’m just glad I could do something…” he took a breath like he wanted to say something more but settled for pressing a kiss to the sloppily tied scarf. She hummed and leaned into him, snaking her hands around his hips and up under his shirt to rest over his back dimples. 

Triss could have stayed there forever. 

[fickle-tiction]

Okay, but imagine

Wow ok. This started as just a quick little Imagine/Head Canon. Oops. Blame @tickle-bugs and apparently @wordstrings

Also idk how to end fics?? Also does anyone else have these gloves? Because they are exquisite torture. 

This takes place IN A BATHTUB YOUNG FOLLOWERS. It’s not nsfw, but they are nekkid.

~~

“Holy shit.” Dean breathed, eyes wide as saucers as he took in the sight before him. “Cas, this isn’t a bathtub. This is a jacuzzi.”

“It’s not a jacuzzi, it’s a hot tub.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Jacuzzi is a brand name.” Cas said in his most dead pan voice, staring at Dean unblinkingly in order to draw out the laugh he knew would follow. He was right, of course. Dean huffed out a fond laugh.

“Whatever. Let’s fill this baby up.”

Cas, for once, declined to point out that this was not, in fact, a baby. It was a hot tub. As he just said. 

Both men began stripping off their clothes as the hot water poured into the tub. Dean’s shirt was off, as were his jeans, and he was currently bent in two pulling off his socks when Cas’s voice rumbled from behind him.

“Lavender? Or Eucalyptus mint?” 

Dean turned to see Cas holding up two purple bottles for Dean’s inspection.

“Bubbles?” Dean asked with a laugh, shaking his head as he tossed his socks into the corner with the rest of his clothes. “What are we? Five?”

“Dean, you can’t take a bubble bath without the bubbles.” Cas pointed this obvious fact out, even as Dean shook his head stubbornly. 

“We’re not taking a bubble bath Cas. We’re just two dudes chilling in a hot tub, five--”

“--If you finish that, you won’t be joining me.” Cas said lightly, smiling at the scowl Dean sent him. “I’m waiting.” He sing-songed, waving the two bottles before Dean’s face.

Dean waited a beat, hoping to stall so Cas would pick for them. Unfortunately, Cas knew him and his “manly persona” too well, and just waited patiently. “....Fine. Eucalyptus.” 

Cas hummed as he poured a generous amount of bubble bath into the tub before turning off the water and turning on the jets. He was nice enough to not comment when they both settled into the bath on opposite ends of the tub and Dean closed his eyes with a sigh, sinking so only his head was peaking out of a mound of bubbles. Once the tub was nearly overflowing with bubbles Cas shut the jets off.

Naturally, Dean was the first to break the content silence. “I can’t believe you waited this long to tell me about your jacuzzi.”

“Hot tub.” Cas corrected automatically, lightly kicking Dean in the stomach when he laughed at him. “And we’ve only been dating a month.”

“Yeah, that’s thirty one jacuzzi baths we could have taken together.”

“Hot. Tub.” Cas emphasized his words with two gentle pokes to Dean’s stomach, using his foot. Dean’s light squirm didn’t escape his notice. ‘Interesting’. “Besides, I need to be wooed first. I don’t sit naked in a tub with just anyone.”

“Speaking of,” Dean got that look on his face as he leaned towards Cas.

“Absolutely not.” Cas didn’t break at Dean’s puppy dog eyes. He wouldn’t. “I am not cleaning that out of this tub.”

“How is it any different than cleaning it out of a normal bath?” Dean certainly wasn’t pouting.

“It can clog the jets. No.”

“You’re no fun.” Okay, now Dean was pouting as he folding his arms over his chest and sunk back down into the bubbles.

Cas rolled his eyes before reaching down into the water and grabbing Dean’s ankle.

Dean jumped, splashing water over the edge of the tub as his hands come up to grip the sides of the tub. “What are you doing?!” 

Wow. He was not slick at all. Fortunately, Cas was. 

“I was going to give you a massage.” He sounded confused, which was exactly what he was going for, as he placed Dean’s foot on his own thigh and held his ankle to keep it there. “Is that okay?”

“....Oh. Uh. Nah, I’m good.” Dean was obviously going for casual as he tried tugging his foot away from Cas’s grip. 

“Are you sure?” Cas asked, brows furrowed as though he had no reason why Dean would react this way.

“Yeah man, I’m good.” Dean said, tugging his foot again. 

“Suit yourself.” Cas let him go, deciding that he would play the long con. Dean was now sitting up straight, clutching the sides of the tub and eyeing Cas warily. Cas chose to ignore him, slowly sinking down into the warm water with his eyes closed, a content hum leaving him as the bubbles settled over his shoulders and around his neck. 

It took another minute for Dean to sink back into the water himself and relax, tentatively stretching his legs back out so his feet were once again near Castiel. Cas made no move to touch them, and eventually Dean relaxed completely.

Perfect.

They chatted about nothing and everything for the next 40 minutes or so, before Cas decided it was time to actually get washed up. Dean looked around for a wash cloth, or a shower puff, but didn’t see anything of the sort. He was going to ask Cas for something, when he saw Cas pulling on two fuzzy blue gloves.

Cas looked up from wriggling his hands into the two scratchy blue gloves to see Dean’s puzzled look. Oh, this was going to be so fun. “What? Don’t tell me, manly Dean Winchester has never used loofah gloves?” Cas asked in a mocking tone, grinning at Dean’s narrowed eyes.

“I don’t appreciate your tone.” Dean scowled, but the act was quickly dropped when Cas plunged his hands under the water and grabbed his ankle again. This time he didn’t let go, even as Dean gasped and sat up straighter, eyes wide. 

“Sorry.” Cas didn’t sound very sorry. “I only have one pair.” Holding Dean’s ankle in his left hand, and oh God Dean was going to die the gloves weren’t soft, they were scratchy in a very ticklish way, he used his right hand to pick up a bar of soap and get a good lather going.

“Something wrong, Dean?” Cas asked, using his innocent voice when he saw Dean’s eyes were glued to the foaming glove.

“N-no. But uh..I can just wash up with my hands.”

“That’s disgusting.” Cas was happy with the lather he managed to get one handed, and put the soap back on the edge of the tub before yanking Dean’s foot out of the water, causing him to lean back against his side of the tub and sink down into the bubbles. “Just relax Dean. This is going to feel nice.”

Cas didn’t give Dean anymore time to protest. He gently dragged his glove covered hand down the sole of Dean’s foot, ignoring the sharp intake of breath from across the tub as he gently spread the soap over every inch of skin. A cut-off “eeek” as Cas massaged the suds underneath Dean’s toes with the rough material of the loofah glove had Cas smirking. Gently, so very gently, Cas poked a soapy gloved finger through each and every toe, making sure to scrub the delicate spaces in between in his quest for cleanliness. Cas almost felt bad about it when he looked over to see Dean red faced, fist covering his mouth, eyes closed as he very clearly tried not to laugh. Oh, he was too easy.

Cas let go once he deemed Dean’s foot clean, but not before gently scrubbing the top of his foot and around his ankle. Dean quickly snatched his foot back, and was just getting himself under control when Cas’s hand shot out and grabbed his other foot from under the water.

“N-ya-ha” Dean yelped, eyes flying open as Cas immediately set to work on his left foot. Cas decided he would just use his fingertips on this foot, and that was too much for Dean, who slammed his eyes shut and tried to physically hold his huffing laughter in with his fist. If he bothered to open his eyes he’d see that Cas had given up all pretense of cleaning, and was now lightly tickling his Dean’s toes to see what made his face the reddest. 

“You sure you’re okay, Dean?” He asked, because he was a dick.

Dean didn’t dare try to respond verbally, instead humming a strangled “mmhhmm” as his foot twitched from Cas’s fingers.

Cas let that foot go, and Dean deflated as it sank back into the warm water, relieved he had made it through with Cas none the wiser. God, he was an idiot sometimes.

“Come here Dean. Let me do your back.” Cas was quick to smother his own smile when Dean looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights.  “I promise, it feels amazing. Like you’re getting the best back scratch of your life.”

Okay, Dean figured, that didn’t sound too bad. Besides, who’s back was ticklish? Certainly not his, right? Probably not. Right??

“You sure you’re okay?” Cas asked as Dean shifted around so he could settled between Cas’s spread legs, sitting up straight to give him full access to his back. “I’m not tickling you, am I?” Cas asked, smirking as Dean tensed up in front of him. “I know it can tickle for some sensitive people.” They’ve only been together a month, but it seemed he knew just how to push Dean’s buttons. 

“I’m fine, Cas.” Dean scoffed. “I’m not ticklish.”

“Oh, good.” Cas said it so lightly that Dean instinctively tensed up again as he felt Cas’s gloved hands, both of them soaped up this time, settle on his back. Cas decided to be nice, rubbing Dean’s back firmly in a soothing pattern starting at either side of his spine and smoothing out to the sides. He hadn’t been lying when he said it felt like the best back scratch ever, as long as you used the proper amount of pressure. 

After a few minutes Dean was putty in Cas’s hands as Cas firmly rubbed at the tops of Dean’s shoulders. “Here, lean back.” Cas suggested, sliding his hands down Dean’s back and around his sides as Dean obliged and settled his soapy back against Cas’s chest. 

Bingo.

Cas smirked down at his boyfriend, who’s eyes were closed as he enjoyed the firm scrubbing. Once Cas’s hands were settled on Dean’s stomach he used his legs to wrap around the other man’s waist. That’s when Dean’s eyes flew open again.

“It’s a good thing you’re not ticklish.” Cas commented, gently running his soaped up, glove covered, hands down Dean’s ribs. “This would be torture if you were.” Dean sucked in his stomach as far as he could as the gloves gently, so gently, smoothed over his bare skin.

“Cas.” Dean said through gritted teeth, jolting when Cas used just his fingertips to lightly massage his stomach. 

“Yes Dean?” Dean could feel a laugh Rumbling through Cas’s chest as he dipped a finger into Dean’s bellybutton and Dean let out a muffled squeak. “Oh, look, you’ve got something here.” Cas said, dragging his gloved hand up across Dean’s torso to the right side of Dean’s ribcage. “Let me get that for you.” And with that, all hell broke loose. Cas used the tips of his fingers to scrub away at Dean’s ribs, while using his right hand to scratch lightly at his stomach.

“Kn-hahahahaha-knock it o-hohohoho-off!” Dean laughed, trying to squirm out of Cas’s octopus-like grip, sending water cascading over the edge of the tub as he did so.

“But Dean, you’ve got something on your ribs.” Cas grinned, scrubbing at the small brown spec and driving Dean wild. “And on your stomach.” Naturally he proceeded to lightly scratch at that too. “And your other rib. Oh, and this rib. Oh! And on this part of your stomach!” 

Dean was cackling as every new “discovery” caused Cas to tickle another part of his body. “Th-hahahahahhahaha-they’re fre-hehehehehehe-freckles you ahahahahahaha ASS!” Dean yelled between his wild laughter, thrashing around as Cas wildly tickled every freckle he could see. There were a lot of them.

“They’re not coming off.” Cas said, trying to sound serious even as a giant smile was stretched across his face.

“Ca-hahahaha-Cas! Come ohohohohohohoh-on!”

“Oh, wow, you’re got a bunch on your thighs!”

“Nononono!” Dean laughed, hands latching around Cas’s wrists as he tried to tickle down Dean’s thighs. 

Cas allowed his hands to be pried away from Dean’s thighs, but didn’t let Dean’s grip deter him from his next target. Cas’s wiggling fingers descended on Dean’s hip bones, tormenting the thin skin there and Dean lost what little sanity he had left. 

“Ca-ahhahahahhahaha-Cas NO!” Dean cackled, squirming intensifying and sending the majority of the water over the edge of the tub as Cas did not let up. “Please! Plhehehehehehehehehease!!! CasCasCasCasCAs!” Dean cackled, eyes squeezed shut, face red, hands gripping uselessly at Cas’s wrists.

“Why, Dean? Is this tickling you?” Cas gasped, as though in shock.

“Yehehehehes! Fahahahahaaha-fuck off!” Cas laughed but decided to be nice and let Dean go, snorting when Dean practically flew out of the tub, catching himself on the sink when he slipped on the massive puddle that was the bathroom floor. 

“You-” Gasp for breath “-Are-” Breathe “-evil.” The wide smile still hadn’t left Dean’s face. 

“You said you weren’t ticklish.” Cas pointed out, shrugging as Dean tried to level a glare at him. It wasn’t very effective since he was all pink-cheeked and disheveled. 

“You’re also dead once we mop up the floor.”

Cas’s smile dropped. That...had not occurred to him. 

“Dean...is this a war you really want to start?”

“I’m not the one that started it.” Dean pointed out, reaching into the tub and pulling the plug so the water would drain out. Cas was opening and closing his mouth as he tried to think up a defense, even as the water drained around him and Dean happily began putting towels down to soak up the floor.

“You might want to get dried off.” Dean said, throwing a dry towel at Cas as the last of the water drained out of the tub. “It’s going to be a long night.”

[l0pp0]

The Hastur fic,,, hand it over

To my cherished friend that I wrote this for, I am still judging you slightly for your tastes but I hope this makes up for the lack of Hastur content on this website. I’d be convinced your a god because of your celestial good looks (≧∀≦)

Cw: none Word count: 1k words

Grow Old

Hastur X Hunter!NB!reader

He’s aged.

Hastur, the eldritch god. An old soul, a tired soul. He’s aged so much. He’s seen the people they’ve cared for grow old and perish. They’ve seen the flowers they’ve loved flourish and wilt into ash.

He doesn’t feel old, he doesn’t have an age. All he knows is that he’s had a front row seat to evolution of the world and humanity. Despite unaware of his numerical years, his mind is a flickering flame one puff from turning into smoke.

The manor, oh how the manor is his entertainment. But the same thing everyday is so full. Wake up, do a match, hurt people, you don’t want to hurt them but you have to. You have to, you have to, you have to.

How long can he spin in such a circle of repetition? With the sound of teasing snickering when he gets kites, when his opponents clap after he gets pallet stunned; you could feel the rotten eye bags under his floating pupils. It’s all so tiring but what can you do as a god? What can you do when you know you’ll outlive those you care about with such a long life span?

Hastur’s days were boring and clawed a hole in his head untill his thoughts were nothing but a void. It was all a fuzzy memory until he saw your face.

New survivors came and new annoyances germinated. Yet when the large wooden door pf the manor slammed with pride, he wasn’t expected you. A hunter? No button eyes, no new ability to counter? Another co-worker/associate?

He wanted to know you, to make a good impression. To possibly make a friend in this hell-scape of a prison. He consoled Yidhra, a fellow god, about his issues. With a knock on Dream Witch’s door, he hopes for a satisfactory answer.

“Oh why bother~ How can you guarantee that they won’t run away, hmmm~?” Yidhra inquires, a snap of her snake tongue resulting in a hissing noise. The two figures were seated in her room, the atmosphere in a cold sweat for Hastur. Yidhra was the only person he could safely say he was on somewhat good terms with. They both weren’t not liked to the fullest among-st their fellow hunters, so a solidarity was formed between them.

She slithers out of her custom made seat to approach her fellow celestial being. Hastur felt a clawed hand pat at his back. The snake person hissing, “Still, you should make an effort, Hastur. They are not many that like our kind~ it would do you good to make an ally, a friend” as she exited the suffocating room. The sound of wood shuffling following quickly behind her.

His eyes squint at the thought, but nonetheless he knew that she was correct. You seemed so kind, so interesting. Perhaps you could make his days a bit more entertaining?

Oh but you looked so lovely, a bit handsome, a bit beautiful. Hastur wanted to know your skills, what your abilities are, but most importantly he wanted to know you. Not the superfical facts about your favorite color, but the small created details in the corners of your mind.

The moon crept onto the sky sooner than he expected, the stars whispering him sweet dreams. As he drifted off the sleep he couldn’t help but speculate, would you accept his efforts into your affections? Inquires about any chance of good impression on you filled his head as he lost himself to slumber. He can’t help but do much to create questions and answers to his thought with his age.

He didn’t notice, but everyone else did. Recently, his movements were less sluggish, his words a smudge more vibrant. More effort was put into his matches, you could see a bead of sweat on the button eyed prey whenever they have to kite the tentacle persona.

To him, it was just nice change of things, just trying a little for a bit. He’s mellowed out, but his tentacles and attacks getting harder and harder to avoid. Survivors not even getting the chance to clap or tease in any way, only focused on not being chaired.

Weeks have passed since you’ve joined the manor. Yet when you got a terror shock in the basement, or a perfect use of your given abilities he can’t help but feel proud. Oh how Hastur wants to go up and pet you on the head with his hand. His claws are sharp like knives but he would be wary not scathe you. He watched from the sidelines of your matches but today he would attack alongside you.

It’s a duo hunters match, he was scheduled for it days in advance. He was expecting Yidhra as usual to be his partner this match, yet it was... you? You smiled fondly at him, telling him how you two would achieve a full team swipe. He writhes in his chair, unsure how you aren’t shifting awkwardly in his presence.

Were you not afraid of him? Not terrified? How could you sit in your chair so contently while the chatter of survivors fill both your ears. Yet despite the loud talking behind you both, he just heard your voice like it was on a speaker.

Your melodic voice filling his senses, calming him, telling him that he’s gonna do a good job. As both prepare, his vision fades to black and he looks around him to be greeted by dark green colors and the sound of water.

Lakeside village, a mental air horn quakes as he pursues his first target. With a swipe of his tentacles and a Yelp of pain he feels rush of motivation; of vigor. He doesn’t know where you are, but somehow, somehow he knows you’re gonna do amazing. He hasn’t spoken to you besides small talk amongst corridors, but your voice, your presence, your everything makes him believe it’s worth getting out of bed for one more day.

The entire match felt like an ascension. His terror-shocks, his hits, his heart warming whenever he saw you across the map. He felt like a survivor next to you, so small with his heart beating a million miles a minute. He knows he can’t just talk to you mid-match but your smile and thumbs up made him wish the match lasted forever.

Post-match, his limbs are tired and shake with exhaustion. He hasn’t played like that in months, he never made such an effort before to win. But playing aside you, WITH you, seeing your praise made him want to blush.

No, no he doesn’t have lips. He doesn’t have a face or smooth hands or a set pair of eyes you can look into but he wants you. You never gave him a disgusted glance, never an obvious whisper of derogatory words in his way, never a spit in his direction. It was shocking really, he can’t smile he can’t blush, but mentally, mentally he is yearning for your embrace.

The rush of adrenaline being by your side, even if it was only one match, he would beg to replay that match for as-long as he lived.

He knows so much about the world, he could tell you ever bug, every plant, every animal on the face of the planet. Yet he couldn’t tell you about love. He’s not sure if he could confront you about the festering red rose Bush in his heart for you.

He may be aged, but maybe just maybe... He can grow older with you loving him at his side.