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ticklishfiend · 6 months

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The Gaang Gets Zuko (ATLA)

lee!zuko , ler!gaang :P

A/N : im having sooo much fun with this show rn, esp having fun attacking zuko as much as possible LOL im going bonkers. there’s no clear story or plot in this one, just the gaang being silly and zuko getting to be silly with them :P

Summary : separate short stories of each member of the gaang tickling zuko (and one where Zuko actually gets one back, read to find out who hehe)

Word Count : 5139

hope u enjoy!! <3

It was strange how relaxed Zuko was starting to feel. The air seemed easier to breathe these days, despite everything he knew they were all about to go through. But that’s just it. Zuko knows he’s not alone. He has people, good people, behind him. Though he misses his Uncle greatly, it keeps Zuko motivated to know Iroh would be proud to see how far he’s come since they’d been separated.

Things are looking up, despite it all, and Zuko’s especially happy he gets to feel that in good company.

“So, like this, right?” Aang asked, getting into position for the new firebending move Zuko’s trying to teach him.

“Um…not quite,” Zuko walked behind him, grabbing his shoulders to gently adjust his stance. “You want your shoulders back a little more, it’ll help your balance. And you should have your waist turned a bit to the side, like this…” Zuko gently gripped onto Aang’s sides, but was startled at how quickly Aang jumped away with a surprised laugh.

“Aaah–tickles, tickles!” Aang giggled, rubbing the sensation away with his arms.

Zuko frowned with his hands on his hips, “Seriously? I barely touched you.”

Katara snickered as she watched them train, bending water in the air lazily like a fidget. “Aang’s more sensitive than most. Remember that wound your sister gave him on his foot? Yeah, that took way, way longer than it should have. He wouldn’t stop squirming.”

“It’s not my fault your water’s so tickly!” Aang cringed at the memory. He took a deep breath before turning back to Zuko, getting into position. “Okay, I’m ready this time. You just surprised me.”

Zuko lifted an eyebrow before trying again, this time with less giggly results. Zuko wasn’t used to such silliness when it came to training, but it was endearing to see Aang was comfortable enough with him to act like that (even if it was slightly annoying).

They trained for another 15 or so minutes before Zuko called for a break, ready for his pre-lunch meditation. He leaned down to gather some of his scattered things into a bag, not noticing the figure creeping up behind him. Before he knew it, Zuko felt two hands give quick pinches to his hip. “AH-! Ggghaha-!” a strangled giggle fell out of him before he could stop it, squirming out of the grip and whipping his body around.

Aang stood behind him with a grin and hands raised in surrender, “Sorry, I had to get you back for earlier.”

Zuko scowled with a pink face, trying very hard to ignore Katara giggling behind Aang. “But I wasn’t even trying to tickle you earlier,” he groaned, turning back around but keeping his guard up. “It’s unfair catching me off guard like that.”

“Yeah, but you gotta admit, that sound you just made was pretty funny,” Aang snickered, sitting down next to Katara and stealing some of her water to fidget with as well.

Zuko sighed, turning around to hide his warm face. “Whatever, I’m gonna meditate. Don’t bother me unless it’s for lunch,” he said before walking out of their view to his normal meditation spot.

Zuko was sat on his bed reading a book Uncle had given him forever ago. Being on the run meant he never really had time to just sit and read (and maybe it was partly his pride that wouldn’t allow him to do something he deemed so lazy), but honestly it wasn’t half bad. Sure, he could be training right now, but everyone else seemed content doing their own thing so maybe that was okay for him too. Uncle always said proper relaxation was an important tool for a warrior to learn.

His reading time, however, was cut short when he heard a knock at his doorway. Zuko looked up to see Sokka peeking his head around the corner.

“You need something?” Zuko asked, sitting his book down on the bed.

“Well, I–uh…” Sokka cleared his throat shuffling awkwardly in the doorway. “I was just wondering if you would, uh–help me out with something? It’s nothing major! You really don’t have to if you don’t wanna, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate with, y’know, training the Avatar and everything, but like, I mean, if you maybe had the time–”

“Sokka,” Zuko interrupted his ramblings, holding the book up for him to see. “I’m not exactly doing anything important right now. I can do you a favor if you need it.”

Sokka sighed, “Okay, that’s good to hear because I really need your help right now,” he shuffled into Zuko’s room defeatedly, plopping himself next to the prince and throwing his head in his hands. “I think I sorta suck at hand-to-hand combat.”

Zuko nearly laughed at that. “Are you serious? You guys managed to take out every team I threw at you, and you think you’re bad at combat?”

“Yeah, but that was when I had everybody with me! You know, benders?!” Sokka sighed, “I’m not a bender, so having them with me to fight is like, insanely helpful. But…what if I end up alone at the next battle? What if I lose my sword? I’ll be useless! I need to know how to fight with my fists at least a little before we go out there.”

All this did was confuse Zuko even more. “Your girlfriend is a Kyoshi Warrior. Why aren’t you asking her for help? She’s the only other non-bender on the team, it seems pretty obvious.”

Sokka blushed and turned his head away, “Well that’s…actually part of it,” he scratched the back of his head sheepishly, “She’s so good at combat. And she’s a great teacher, don’t get me wrong! Everything I know about fighting, it came from her. But…I feel so stupid. We spar all the time, but she’s the one teaching me the moves, she knows what strategy I’m gonna take! I kinda…I wanna impress her during our next spar. Maybe show her something she hasn’t seen me do before,” Sokka looked up at Zuko with an unsure face. “I thought maybe you could teach me a thing or two?”

Zuko just stared for a moment, thinking it over. Sokka had that puppy-dog look on his face he always gets when he’s trying to win someone over…unfortunately for Zuko, he’s really good at that face.

Zuko sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before standing and making his way towards the door. “I can’t promise it’ll help you any. I’m better at fighting with my bending than just plain combat. You’re already in good hands with Suki.”

Sokka jumped up, following behind Zuko like a puppy. “I know, but I just wanna see if it helps,” he wrapped an arm around the back of Zuko’s neck as they walked, the boy in question not acknowledging the touch whatsoever. “Can’t hurt to try, right?”

Zuko peeked an eye towards Sokka. “Whatever.”

They found an open area to spar, somewhere away from everyone else so no one could spill the “secret” to Suki. Not like anyone actually cared, but Sokka insisted this was the best move to make.

They fought for a while, Sokka showing off the moves he learned from Suki, and Zuko trying to teach him anything that popped into his head that Sokka might not already know. But…the spar wasn’t really turning out the way Zuko had envisioned before they started.

Sokka was actually really good at this. Like, stupid good. Way better than he had given himself credit for just about an hour ago. He’d already pinned Zuko probably 5 times, and Zuko only got him down once. It was sorta embarrassing. Zuko kept reminding himself that the guy had been trained by a literal Kyoshi warrior, so it shouldn’t be that surprising.

Still, though. It did take a tiny blow to his ego that the guy asking him for training was practically kicking his butt right now.

“Woohoo! Down for the count again!” Sokka whooped from behind Zuko. The boy was pinned on his front, arms behind his back.

“I thought you wanted help,” Zuko wheezed, twisting his wrists in Sokka’s hold to no avail. “Now it feels like you just wanted bragging rights,” he mumbled.

Sokka didn’t say anything. Actually, he just kept looking down at Zuko with this look. His eyes a little wide, his lips sucked behind his teeth.

You’re kidding. You’re kidding.

“Are you serious?!” Zuko yelled, starting to actually fight under Sokka’s hold now that he felt thoroughly pissed off. “Why would you lie about that?! You could’ve just asked for a spar!”

Sokka stammered, “Well, I was serious at first! I wasn’t lying! I really did want your help!” He paused, baring his teeth a little in guilt. “Buuuut…after we started sparring, I realized I was way better than I thought I was. I don’t know why, but I just kinda figured you’d be able to take me down with no trouble! You’re like, royally trained or something, right?”

Zuko frowned, “Yeah. I am,” he said. “In firebending.”

Sokka’s brows shot up. “Oh yeaaaah. Didn’t really think about that,” he chuckled nervously.

A beat passed in silence before both of them realized Sokka was still on top of him. Zuko twisted his wrists in Sokka’s hands, “Well? Are you gonna get off me?”

“I don’t really trust you not to turn me into bacon right now.”

“Sokka.”

Sokka laughed, “Y’know, it’s kinda funny if you think about it. Last year I used to run from you, and now I’ve got you literally pinned under me. I mean, really, it just writes itself!”

Zuko groaned, pressing his forehead to the floor. “You are…beyond annoying.”

“I’m just saying, if I had all this Kyoshi training last year, we might not even be here right now. Or maybe you’d have joined our group back then, after seeing how much of an asset to the team I am!” Sokka teased, pressing his body weight against Zuko’s arms so he could flex a muscle in Zuko’s eyeshot.

Then, Sokka went quiet for a moment. Suspiciously quiet. Zuko was not a fan of his disadvantage right now.

“Hey, who’s that fire nation girl that’s always hanging around your sister? You know, the one that can paralyze people?”

Zuko sighed, “That would be Ty Lee. Get off.”

“Yeah, Ty Lee! Man, it’d be so cool if she wasn’t the worst,” Sokka adjusted his grip a bit, like he was trying to get a better hold for something. What in the world is he planning?! “I bet I could learn a thing or two from that girl, strengthen up my fighting style a bit,” Sokka shrugged, “Eh, I bet I could be self taught. I just gotta find the right nerve…”

Before Zuko could even process what he was talking about, Sokka started poking up and down Zuko’s open sides, using one finger to poke one side, then the other, then back again. Over and over and over.

“G-GaAH!” Zuko’s body jumped under the assault, squirming under his hold. “N-No, Sokka, let me–gohoho!” He giggled involuntarily, trying his best to hide his face in the floor while also trying to jerk away from Sokka’s ticklish hold.

“No, hold on, I think I’m getting the hang of this!” Sokka teased, poking up into Zuko’s ribs. Zuko couldn’t help the squeaky giggles falling from his lips, it was mortifying. He kicked his legs out behind Sokka like it would do anything, but with how good the boy had gotten at these warrior pins, Zuko didn’t stand a chance.

“S-stohohop! This is sohoho–ahaha so stuhupid!” Zuko cackled, writhing when he felt Sokka start pinching at his bony ribs. He could feel his face growing warmer by the second, horribly embarrassed by how easily Sokka can drag him into his playful little games.

“Okay, okay, just oneeee more thing,” Sokka said before bringing his hand up to flutter soft fingers against Zuko’s neck and ears. Crapcrapcrapcrap that really tickles. Zuko immediately fell into the most disgusting, high-pitched, girly-ish giggles he’s ever produced. It. Was. Terrible.

“Nohoho! Come ohohon! This is–ahaha this is so unfahahair!” Zuko whined, pulling against the hands holding him hostage. “This is assahahault!”

Sokka cackled at that, finally letting go of his very ticklish victim. He stood and backed away enough to let Zuko catch his breath, wiping a mirthful tear from his eye.

“You–pfff!! You’re so ticklish! Who woulda guessed that?!” Sokka laughed, practically doubled over in it. Zuko grumbled on the ground, sitting up and stretching his arms.

“And you are so childish,” he groveled, before launching at Sokka while he wasn’t paying attention. He grabbed around the boy’s waist and brought him to the ground with an ‘oof!’, the pair roughing it out for a moment before Zuko got the upper hand (Sokka was still laughing too much to put up a real fight). On the ground, Zuko had him trapped in a reverse bear hug, finding an opening near Sokka’s stomach to dig his own fingers in and make Sokka howl.

“Say you’re sorry!” Zuko grunted, trying to avoid a head butt from Sokka’s frantic squirming. “Say it!”

“AAAHH! AAAHAhahaha! I’m–! I’m ssssahahahah!” Sokka cackled, struggling to find the words with fingers digging incessantly into his stomach. Even in his wild state, Sokka could tell Zuko wasn’t very used to this, his tickling-style a little more rough than what he’s used to with the others. But luckily for Zuko, Sokka was a little too ticklish for it to actually affect anything.

“What? You can dish it but you can’t take it?!” Zuko fired back with his usual angry tone, though it was really hard to take seriously when he started pinching at Sokka’s side so viciously.

“I cahaha–! It’s tooohohohoo–! AAAHH-!" Sokka's screaming laugh echoed through the temple, his head jerking back and forth. Zuko's fingers were getting tired, and this whole thing felt so stupid, but it was the principle of the thing! This is...how it works, right?

Zuko kept tickling despite not really knowing what he was doing, avoiding flailing limbs and a jerking head all the while. And right, right before he was about to just call it quits, he heard a cough from just outside his peripheral.

The pair froze, Zuko feeling his entire face grow warm in the matter of seconds. They both turned their heads slowly to see Suki standing there with her arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in question.

"You two having fun in here?" Suki asked through a smile, clearly on the verge of laughing. Zuko dropped Sokka like a sack of potatoes, standing up quickly with a finger pointed right at Sokka.

“He started this! He attacked me first, but–but I got out! And then he started laughing, and, I mean–it was so stupid! This is so stupid!” Zuko yelled in embarrassment, throwing his hands up to cover his whole face.

Suki giggled and walked over towards her boyfriend on the ground. “Aw, did the big mean firebender get you?” She teased a frowning (and blushing) Sokka. Suki held out her hand to him, “Come on, get up.”

Sokka took it with a scowl, refusing to make eye contact with Zuko. At least, until Sokka remembered how this whole thing started, his whole demeanor lighting up in an instant. “Oh you’ll never believe this. I beat Zuko. In a spar,” he whooped, looking over towards the firebending to find him scowling with his arms crossed. “Actually, it was like ten!”

“Six. It was just six,” Zuko squinted at Sokka in contempt.

“Okay, but six is still a lot compared to your one win,” Sokka boasted, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend.

Suki pulled herself out of his hold, “Uh, sure, but I think after what I saw, Zuko’s still the winner here,” she said, shooting an affirming smile Zuko’s way.

Sokka dropped his jaw, “What?! But–But I beat him! Like, TONS of times?!” He exclaimed, “And I’m the one that started that! I tickled Zuko first, he totally went down!”

“When I was already pinned!” Zuko argued, angry he couldn’t make his blush fade any faster.

Suki sucked her teeth, “Sokka, if you started this, that’s even worse,” she shrugged. “You cheated. Zuko’s clearly the winner here, he just finished what you started” Suki pat Sokka’s back, shooting Zuko an empathetic look. “Sorry my boyfriend’s so childish. If you ever want a real spar, you know where to find me.”

Zuko looked surprised, really expecting her to tease him like everybody else did. “Oh, uh…yeah, whatever. Sure.”

Suki smiled, taking Sokka by the shoulders and walking him off. Zuko could hear her scolding as they walked away, “Next time we spar, I’ll show you how a real warrior cheats.”

Zuko wasn’t really sure how to take that. In fact, he decided it was probably best to ignore whatever that meant. Instead, he just grabbed his bag and tried forgetting this whole embarrassing mess ever happened.

–

“Zuko, I’m so sorry! I’m so so so sorry, I never meant for this to happen!” Aang practically cried behind Zuko, his words muffled under the hands he used to cover his mouth in guilt. “If you never wanna train me again, I’d understand. I just…I’m so sorry. I’m so—”

“Aang, it’s fine. I already told you it’s fine,” Zuko sighed, propping his bare foot up on the stool of earth Toph made for him. “Believe me, I’ve been burned way worse than this.”

“But that’s different!” Aang cried, falling on his butt to hide his face in his knees. “I can’t believe I burned someone. Again.”

“You’re still learning. It happens,” Zuko winced when Katara took hold of his ankle to get a better look at the burn. “Trust me, I burned a few of my trainers when I was growing up too. It’s just part of firebending. Once you’ve mastered it, you won’t have to worry about it anymore.”

Aang lifted his head with a sniffle. “Yeah…I guess you’re right,” he sighed. “Still feel bad, though.”

“As long as it doesn’t affect your training going further, I really don’t care,” Zuko shrugged, leaning back against his hands.

“That’s a little rude, don’t you think?” said Katara, popping the cork from her water bottle.

“Not really. I don’t care. I’m fine, and Aang will be too,” Zuko said, before gasping as Katara let the healing water wash over his feet. He jerked his foot back off the stool, making Katara raise an eyebrow.

“Zuko?” She looked down at the empty stool. “Kinda need your foot for this.”

Aang lit up, the smile finally returned to his face when he realized with a giggle, “I forgot! Zuko’s ticklish!”

“I am not! It just surprised me!” Zuko argued, throwing his foot back on the stool with confidence (though the pout he sported said otherwise).

Katara snickered, holding her water up so Zuko could see. “Well it��s a good thing you aren’t ticklish then, cause Aang could barely sit still last time I did this to him.”

“Yeah, Toph nearly had to earthbend my hands to the ground to keep me from moving,” Aang nodded, clearly feeling more chipper than a moment ago. Zuko cringed at the thought, shaking his head to clear it from overthinking.

“That will not be necessary,” Zuko huffed. “Just get to it, I’ll be fine. We need to get back to training.”

Katara shrugged, bringing the water to his foot and starting the healing process. Zuko immediately gasped again, his foot nearly jerking off the stool. He caught himself this time, but no one in the room missed the flinch.

Well, except for Toph, but only out of technicality’s sake.

“Your hearts racing, Sparky,” Toph sang, never missing an opportunity to tease their resident grump.

“Shut up, Toph,” Zuko said through bared teeth, straining himself to keep from letting a giggle slip. He squirmed in his seat, toes clenching and unclenching involuntarily. If he can just get through this without cracking, there’ll be nothing for these weirdos to tease him about. He can do this.

“Y’know, you should probably breathe soon. Don’t want you dying on us while I’m healing you,” Katara said, looking up from her water at Zuko’s puffed cheeks and pink face. He’d been too focused to even realize he was holding his breath in the first place. Slowly, Zuko exhaled through his nose before flinching hard again at a more solid sensation in the center of his foot.

“Grrk–!” Zuko jumped, scowling at Katara who started snickering.

“Sorry, my finger slipped,” she grinned, making the other two start giggling at his expense.

“It’s really okay if you need to laugh, Zuko,” said Aang. “There’s no way I could’ve held it in like you are.”

“I said I’m fine. It doesn’t even…” Zuko huffed, the water finding a particularly sensitive spot right at the worst time possible, making him growl through a giggle. He shut his eyes tight, “Juhust shut up.”

–

At first, his days in the air on Appa were something Zuko wasn’t sure he would ever get used to. He had to admit, it was definitely cool getting to ride a sky-bison thousands of feet in the air after he’d been told his whole life the species had gone extinct with the rest of the air-benders. There was some excitement to it the first couple rides he got to experience.

But after about the fifth time, it was really starting to get old.

“I thought I knew what boredom felt like when I was out camping with Uncle, but this is really something else,” Zuko groaned, throwing his head over the side of the saddle.

“Zukoooo, remember what I keep telling you about the positive attitude?” Aang reminded him from Appa’s head, steering the bison in what felt like the same direction for hours.

“No, he’s right. This is super boring,” Sokka whined, picking at Appa’s fur with a pout.

“Don’t you guys ever, I don’t know…play any games while you’re up here?” Zuko asked, feeling a little silly about it. Playing games was so childish, but it seemed to fit this group’s whole vibe pretty well. Couldn’t hurt to ask, right?

“Yeah we used to, until Toph took it too seriously one time and Katara banned fun,” Sokka shot a look at his sister, who scoffed at the mention.

“Um, I did not ban fun. I banned Pushies,” Katara corrected him with a squint.

“Ah, Pushies. The good ole days when having a laugh wasn’t forbidden by Her Highness,” said Toph, nearly making Katara blow a fuse.

Zuko hated to ask, but this was the most entertained he’d felt in the past two hours. With an incredulous look, he asked, “What’s Pushies?”

“It was the best,” Sokka sighed like he was daydreaming. “Toph and I would push each other back and forth until one of us got too scared and called quits.”

“Which I never did, by the way–”

“Uh, not true! You know you called quits that one time-”

“Because you nearly pushed me off Appa!”

“Not true AGAIN! You couldn’t see it, but you were totally fine-”

“Oh so because I’m blind it’s my fault they won’t let us play Pushies anymore?!”

“That’s not what I meant-!”

“GUYS!” Aang shouted, throwing a stern look over his shoulder towards the group. The pair went silent before both slouching back against the saddle. “No. Pushies.”

They both grumbled to themselves, but ultimately decided it wasn’t worth the fight. Zuko looked to the sky at their bickering, thankful his temper wasn’t like it used to be.

“Games other than Pushies exist, you know. We just have to make one up,” he suggested, sitting criss-crossed to face the group.

“Did you play any games on that murder-ship you used to ride?” Katara asked with a tone, her mood clearly a bit dampened.

Zuko grimaced, “I was kinda too focused on capturing Aang for games back then.” Zuko sighed, throwing his head and arms back over the saddle to stare into the sky. “Forget it. Let’s just go back to sitting in silence.”

It seemed like the rest of the group agreed, because for the next few minutes that’s exactly what they did. The wind whistling in their ears was the only sound to focus on.

That is, until Zuko felt something tweak his side, making him squeak an awful sound. He whipped his head around to find everyone suspiciously not looking at him. Sokka picked at his fingers, Katara seemed a little too interested in the cloth of her dress, and Toph…well, she looked straight ahead, but that was to be expected.

Zuko fumed, “Who did that?”

Sokka looked up from his fingers, “Hm? Who did what?”

Oh, Zuko was so onto them. Pointing a finger at Sokka with a squint, “Don’t. Do it. Again.” He said sternly, before turning back around towards the sky. Zuko swore he could hear them snickering behind him, but hoped that would be the end of it.

Another minute went by with nothing, and for some reason Zuko really thought he evaded trouble with that intimidation move he pulled. Clearly he didn’t know this group well enough yet.

Another tweak to his side, this one closer to his ribs this time. Anything near his ribs always made him flinch hard, his elbow shooting down to cover the area with a giggly shout. Zuko growled when he faced them, “Seriously, who’s doing this?!” They all looked up at him like they were clueless. He’s gonna kill them. “Answer me!”

Finally, he heard Toph giggle, clearly unaffected by his little hissy fit. “It was me. Both times, actually,” she grinned, throwing a leg over her knee. “What, you gonna do something about it?”

Zuko’s jaw locked forward, feeling like he was breathing smoke out of his nose. His hands clenched beside him, telling himself it would probably not be the “right thing” throwing this twelve year old over the side of Appa.

With a grumble, he fixed his face and looked up to the sun above him. “You people are crazy.” Zuko crossed his arms and slumped against the saddle, decidedly not turning away from Toph this time. Everyone got a chuckle out of that, even Aang.

“No, I think Toph’s the crazy one,” he chuckled, smiling over his shoulder. “The rest of us are pretty normal, right?”

Zuko deadpanned Aang’s way. “No.”

Toph crawled over beside Zuko, who nearly flinched at her presence. “Lighten up, Sparky! Remember what Aang said? Positive attitude?” She accentuated Aang’s words with more tweaks to Zuko’s side, these far more ticklish now that she doesn’t have to hide it. Zuko jumped with a giggly shout, trying hard to hide his side with his elbow, but that just made Toph reach around his back to get his other side.

“Gah-! N-Nohoho!” He complained, pushing at her hands and face. “Quihit!”

“Cmooon I’m bored! This is the most entertained I’ve been in hours!” Toph tickled into Zuko’s ribs as she talked, making him fall over on his side in giggles. He kept pushing at her with his hands, but his stupid body kept betraying him, his elbows shooting down to cover the area too much to really fight back.

“Toph-! Tohohoph!” Zuko squealed, everyone around laughing at his funny noises. These people are the worst. “Gahaha! Get her ohoff mehehe!” He cackled, feeling her fingers vibrate into his ribs and stomach at the same time. Zuko’s eyes were scrunched tight in mirth, feeling silly and stupid and ticklish.

“This is too good. You sound like a girl!” Toph laughed, poking into his side like a typewriter. Zuko couldn’t stop giggling, flipping over on his stomach to crawl away (though he didn’t have much room, cramped on this stupid saddle with the rest of these freaks). He opted for crawling as close to Katara as he could get, praying she’d take pity on him and make Toph stop embarrassing him already.

Katara chuckled, “Okay, I think he’s had enough,” grabbing for Toph’s wrist (her hand still trying to worm it’s way under Zuko’s armpit) Katara pulled Toph away from Zuko as he slumped close to her side panting.

“Aweee, what?! I was just getting started!” Toph whined, making another grabbing motion in Zuko’s general direction that had him flinching with a squeak.

“You heard her, quit it!” Zuko griped, trying to silently maneuver himself as far from Toph as possible without her hearing. It was like a game of cat and mouse, Toph listening for any subtle sound Zuko made for her to launch her free arm in his direction, making him zip out of her reach before she could grab him.

“Cut it out, this is ridiculous!” Zuko complained, getting behind Sokka and gripping his shoulders like a human shield. “Ha! How ‘bout that, shortstack?!”

“Hey! Don’t rope me into this–AHH! NO! NONONOHohohoho!!” Sokka fell over on his side in giggles the moment Katara let go of Toph’s arm, the shorter girl launching for his sides.

“This’ll do for now!” Toph cheered, digging into Sokka’s waist with her rough fingers and making him howl. “I’ll catch you eventually, Sparky! Just wait til I’m finished with him!” she grinned wickedly, Sokka losing his mind just below her.

“But you already—! Gah, forget it,” Zuko sighed, crawling silently over beside Katara to hopefully avoid getting involved in that mess again. “She’s ruthless.”

Katara giggled, shooting Zuko a smile, “You get used to it.”

Zuko caught himself smiling at dinner. It was weird, usually when he smiled, it felt like an intentional move. Smiling to convince someone he’s happy, or smiling to fake innocence. But tonight…he started smiling before he even realized he was doing it.

Aang was telling some silly story from over 100 years ago, something from his childhood before all this. It was a stupid story, something Zuko would’ve found himself scoffing at if he had heard it even just a few months ago.

But things are good now. He felt good. Happiness came easy to him, like breathing or pulling fire from his hands. Zuko never thought he’d get to feel this again after everything he’d gone through, but these weirdos just had a way with him.

Something about these people, his friends, was always able to make him smile. They were annoying. They’re loud. They’re way too touchy, and always in his personal space. Like now, with Toph curled against his side as she laughed along to Aang’s story.

And yet? Zuko’s come to be okay with that. He’s come to like it about them, as crazy as it sounds.

The fire he sat in front of now didn’t have to be a threat. It was home.

—

A/N : i was all over the place writing this LMAO hope yall like it anyways cause it was fun to write!! pls consider reblogging if u enjoyed!! <3

#tickle community #tickling #tickle fic #atla tickling #avatar tickling #lee!zuko #ler!aang #ler!katara #ler!toph #ler!sokka #lee!sokka #ticklish!zuko #ticklish!sokka

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agaypanic · 2 months

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The Fella Part 11 (James Maguire X Quinn!Reader)

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Summary: As prom approaches, the girls find a strange friend in the new Our Lady Immaculate student.

A/N: ahhhh only one chapter left!!! i usually don’t say the word count in fics, but this is the longest chapter of The Fella and possibly my longest fic to date, its almost 9k words long. So just a warning for yall. like the last few chapters, thanks to @crumpets-are-better-with-jam for writing out the script of this episode for me. Some suggestive stuff (not talking about michelle lol), but the characters are 17 and it’s not explicit. If you’re gonna be like “this surprise character you put in totally wouldn’t do this” just keep it to yourself bc i can do what i want, im the god of my creation (im so fucking crazy)

***

School formals were always exciting. At least, if you went with exciting people. And if it was a formal at the end of the year, it was even better because you could celebrate school ending and a summer of fun beginning.

One of the reasons Y/n and her friends were looking forward to the end of term was because they wouldn’t have to hear Jenny Joyce’s horrendous singing for a few months. Everyone in the assembly seemed to share their sentiment as they all stared at the stage, uninterested and displeased. It didn’t help that the girls were dressed in striped suit jackets, making them look like some sort of barbershop quartet. Y/n cringed as Jenny and her friends sang their last note, which wasn’t very good.

There was a slight pause, and Sister Michael looked relieved that this was the song’s end. “Lovely…” It was clear that she didn’t really think so. “And I believe you wrote the lyrics yourselves, is that correct?”

“It is indeed, Sister,” Jenny responded smugly.

“Makes sense,” Y/n muttered to her friends. “It was a load of shite.” They all made quiet sounds of agreement before turning their attention back to the stage.

“Do you ever think you might have too much time on your hands, girls?” Jenny and her group didn’t respond, but there was a murmur of giggles among the crowd as Sister Michael stood from her chair. “Lose the jackets.” She said, dismissing them from the stage before stepping up to the microphone. “Okay, just a couple of things. Firstly, I’d like to introduce Mae Cheung. Can you make yourself known, please, Mae?”

A few rows before the girls, a hand slowly and awkwardly rose into the air in the middle of the crowd. Everyone tried to get a good look at her, but it was difficult since most people could only see the back of her head.

“Miss Cheung’s family have recently moved here to Derry, so I hope you’ll all make her feel very welcome. It’s bound to be a bit of a culture shock, Mae. Things are done differently in this part of the world. But I’m sure you’ll soon feel as at home here as you did back in your beloved Donegal.” There was a beat of silence before Sister Michael remembered the other announcement she needed to make. She pulled out a piece of paper, looking at the crowd before reading it. “Announcement from Jenny Joyce and the dance committee: ‘The school social event for the year is fast approaching, but before you… don your glad rags… and- boogie- on- down…’” She sighed, looking at the paper appalled. “I’m sorry, I simply cannot read this.” She stepped away from the microphone, giving Jenny Joyce the paper before sitting in her chair.

Jenny eagerly went to the mic, showing too much energy and enthusiasm for a Monday morning with her big grin and little dance moves as she spoke. “But before you don your glad rags and boogie on down, we’d like to let you in on our little secret. We’re not actually gonna have a school formal this year.”

The assembly went into an uproar, and rightfully so. There were some murmurs of disbelief and booing, and Jenny waved her hands around with a smile.

“No, listen. We’re not gonna have a school formal. We’re gonna have…” As she paused for effect, her three friends started singing ‘doo-be doo’s in the background. “A fifties prom!”

That caused even more of a reaction. Michelle and Y/n were pretty vocal about this silly decision, gaining the attention of Sister Michael. “Girls!” She said, effectively quieting the large room. She addressed all the students, but her somewhat mischievous gaze was on Y/n and Michelle. “If you have any feedback, you can find Miss Joyce after assembly.”

“I know, I know.” Jenny laughed off everyone’s reactions. “But I do love a theme. Sure, isn’t that why they call me the Theme Queen?”

The girls looked at each other, confused. “Who said that?” Y/n asked.

“Do they?” Clare questioned.

“Do they fuck.” Michelle answered.

Jenny continued, not having heard their little conversation. “We wanted to have a real, old school, retro, vintage vibe, so feel free to just go for it!”

“Feel free to kiss my hole,” Michelle muttered.

After being released by Sister Michael, the girls and James walked through the hallways, discreetly looking for someone. Turning into one of the halls with a wall of lockers, Clare gasped.

“There she is.” Everyone saw the new girl, Mae, at her locker. Clare turned around to face her friends, filled with her usual frantic energy. “Okay, so, I say we just go over there and be ourselves, girls. Well, not totally ourselves. We should definitely be a bit ourselves. We could also pretend we’re sort of better than we actually are, so, I supposed what I’m saying is we could present a version of ourselves as less-”

“Shit.” Y/n finished the sentence, giving Clare a much-needed break to breathe.

“Precisely.”

“Why do we even have to talk to her?” Michelle asked, her crabby mood from having to listen to Jenny earlier still present.

Clare rolled her eyes, thinking the answer was obvious. “Because she’s new, Michelle.”

Michelle groaned. “I hate people I don’t know.”

“Aw.” Y/n cooed, putting an arm around her friend’s shoulder. “Does that mean you love us?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” She answered, shoving Y/n’s arm off.

“And, in case you hadn’t noticed, she happens to be Chinese.” Clare continued. “I mean, how class would it be to have a Chinese friend?”

“We could keep her in my toy box.” Y/n and Erin looked at their cousin with alarm.

“No, we couldn’t, Orla.”

“That’s kidnapping, I’m pretty sure.”

“She’d definitely fit,” Orla said adamantly.

“That’s not the point.”

“Fine.” Michelle was clearly ignoring the strange side conversation. “But can we agree it’s on a strict one-in-one-out basis? If she joins the group, James has to leave.”

Everyone responded in agreement, except for Y/n and James, of course. The girls made their way over to the new girl, leaving the couple confused.

“Excuse me?” James said to no one in particular, but then frowned at his girlfriend. “Are they serious?”

Y/n snorted, grabbing James’ arm. “Probably.” Without further elaboration, she pulled the boy towards the rest of their friends. Despite only being separated for a short time, it seemed that James and Y/n had missed some secondhand embarrassment from Clare’s brief interaction with the new girl, Mae.

Mae stared at Clare for a moment before looking at the group. “Is she alright?”

Michelle leaned down to Clare’s ear, rolling her eyes. “Burnin’ for you, Clare.”

“It’s Cantonese.” Clare stuttered out to Mae.

“Right. Well, I’m from Donegal, and we speak English there.”

“If you say so, Mae,” Michelle said. “But I spent a summer in Killybegs, and seriously, not a fuckin’ word.” Y/n elbowed her friend in the side, making a comment about how that might’ve been more of an issue with Michelle’s intelligence than with the town of Killybegs.

Clare smiled kindly at Mae, trying to amend the awkward situation. “We just wanted to introduce ourselves and-”

“-Okay, I think I see where this is going.” Mae interrupted, holding up her hand to further silence the short blonde. “I get this a lot. Dull, white girls want me to join their gang because, well…” Mae gestured to herself to finish the point.

“We’re not dull,” Erin argued.

“Sure.”

Y/n pointed to James. “And he’s a boy.”

“A man, Y/n.” James corrected, as if he had had this conversation many times. “I’m a man.”

“Woah.” Mae almost laughed. “She has a really fucked up accent.”

“We know,” Michelle said with a sigh.

James leaned into his girlfriend, slightly offended. “I’m not a girl; I’m a man.”

“Sure you are, Jamie,” Y/n said, patting his cheek before focusing back on the main conversation.

Mae sighed, slinging her bag over her shoulder and looking the group over with a judging look. “What’s in this for me?” She asked. “What do you bring to the table?”

Orla held out her hand. “Six cream crackers?”

Y/n snatched one of the crackers and put it in her mouth, looking at Mae. “Five cream crackers.” She corrected. Mae raised her brow at the two girls.

“I’m good for cream crackers, thank you.” Her tone was filled with sass, but Orla didn’t catch it, so she just shrugged and put them back in her pocket. Mae slammed her locker closed and gave the girls one last look. “I’ll see you around, girls.”

The group disappointedly watched her walk off. Except for Orla, because the girl was an optimist through and through. “Maybe we don’t need a Chinese person.” She said. “We’ve still got a lesbian.”

Suddenly, Mae whipped her head back around. “What? Who?” She quickly walked back to the girls. Timidly, Clare raised her hand.

“Me.”

Mae didn’t look too convinced. “Really? You don’t look like a lesbian.”

Y/n put a protective arm around Clare, almost standing in front of her. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” She asked inquisitively. Mae’s sudden interest and then questioning of Clare being a lesbian was making Y/n wonder if the girls should even try to get her to be their friend.

Mae seemed to ignore Y/n, instead giving Clare a once-over. “It’s just that you’re a bit… short.”

“Well, there’s no height restrictions.” Clare rebutted before glancing at Y/n a bit anxiously. “As far as I’m aware.”

“Interesting.” Mae started looking like she was putting together a scheme in her head. “I’ve always wanted a gay friend. I mean, ideally, a fella-”

“Oh, we’ve got one right here.” Michelle laughed, pointing to her cousin. He and Y/n looked at her with exasperation.

“I’m not gay!”

“He’s not gay!”

“Howdy, folks.” The girls recognized the voice instantly, cringing at the sight of Jenny Joyce, who had now intercepted the entire interaction. Michelle made her distaste for the girl known with an eye roll and a little curse. Jenny ignored it. “I’m Jenny. This is Aisling.” She pointed to the tall brunette who seemed to always be by her side. “We just thought we’d introduce ourselves and see if-”

Clare jumped between Jenny and Mae, throwing her arms out to shield the new girl from Jenny. “Too late, Jenny. She’s ours.”

“I see,” Jenny responded, looking amused and alarmed by Clare before looking back to Mae. “Look, these girls are great, but I do have a pen pal from the Caribbean, so perhaps my circle is a bit more diverse.”

“Back. Off.” Clare seethed, her intensity starting to startle her friends.

Jenny managed to hand Mae a piece of paper with her phone number scribbled on it. “Think about it. Give me a call.” She was finally about to walk away when she remembered something and spun back around to the group. “Oh! And F-Y-I, the Prom Queen vote closes today.”

“F-Y-I, nobody gives a shit,” Michelle remarked.

Aisling held out a piece of paper, waiting for someone to take it. “Here’s the wee ballot.”

Erin snatched it quickly, rolling her eyes when she read the list of candidates. “I see you’ve thrown your hat in the ring, Jenny.”

The girl waved her hand, her humility clearly faked. “I had my arm twisted, but feel free to tick my box.” Then she finally left, Aisling in tow.

Y/n snorted. “I didn’t know Jenny was like that.”

“Dirty bitch.” Michelle added, shaking her head.

***

After school, the girls decided to go to the shopping center instead of straight home. After all, they had much to discuss. After hopping off the bus, they started their trek into town.

“This prom is going to be a full-blown dick fest.” Michelle started, the word ‘prom’ catching everyone’s attention. “Y’know there’s not even gonna be a DJ? Apparently, Jenny’s hired this fuckin’ pensioner band.”

“Fucks sake.” Y/n sighed.

“Christ, really?” Erin asked.

Michelle nodded. “I heard the drummer is at least thirty.” Seeing the smirk she wore when dropping that piece of information, Clare’s mouth dropped in horror.

“I don’t feel so bad about missing it now,” James said, feeling a sense of relief. “It clashes with my thing.”

Y/n confusedly looked at her boyfriend, unaware of what his ‘thing’ was. But before she could ask, Michelle rolled her eyes and looked back at her cousin. “The creep convention? Seriously?”

“It’s not a creep convention!”

Michelle shrugged, clearly not convinced. “Well, I think a load of perverts gettin’ together to wank over some fella who fights hoovers and rides aliens in a telephone box, is the very fuckin’ definition of a creep convention.”

James scoffed. “It’s a Doctor Who night. Me and my stepdad used to watch it when I was little.”

“Well, someone should’ve called Social Services then, James.”

“You’re not going to the prom then, James?” Clare asked, seeming offended. He shook his head, and Clare looked over to Y/n, who was already looking at her with a confused and disappointed look.

Eventually, the group reached the shopping center. The conversation moved to the topic of dates, or lack thereof.

“I have no clue who to ask.” Clare sighed, a bit frustrated. “I’d ask James, but-” She cut herself off, remembering that she was the only one completely aware of the relationship between James and one of her best friends.

“But you’re not desperate, Clare.” Michelle finished her sentence with a laugh. “And tell me about it. There’s at least five fellas who fancy the arse off’a me, but I just can’t choose.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely the same,” Clare responded with a grumpy face and monotonous tone.

Erin nudged the small blonde with her elbow. “I’ll be your date, Clare.”

“But, Erin, people might talk. They might get the wrong idea.”

“Let them.” She said proudly, head held high. “We need to break down these ridiculous conventions.”

Y/n would’ve commented about her sister’s somewhat fake activism, but she kept her mouth shut after seeing the hopeful look on dear Clare’s face. “Thank you.”

Erin would have responded to Clare if she hadn’t caught sight of a familiar face. Through the window of the cafe the girls were walking to, Erin could see a boy about their age sitting at a far table with a girl, and they both looked somewhat miserable. “Oh God, John-Paul’s over there,” Erin said stiffly, turning around to look at her friends. “Christ, but it’s been so awkward since we broke up.”

“For fuck’s sake, Erin,” Michelle said, remembering the event a bit differently than how Erin was painting it. “He kissed your cheek at Kerry Coyle’s sixteenth birthday party.”

“Didn’t he pass out in his own boke?” Y/n asked, recalling the embarrassing moment. “Feckin’ lightweight.”

Erin looked over her shoulder back at John-Paul. “Yeah, he missed that boat, alright.”

“Come on already.” Michelle opened the door, pushing the girls into the cafe. “I’m fucking starving.”

James was about to go inside but was held back by Y/n. The door closed after Orla, leaving the couple outside.

“Are you okay, Y/n?” James asked, as curious and thoughtful as ever.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the convention?”

James cringed at the twinge of hurt in her voice, realizing that he had never told her about the Doctor Who convention and how it was the same night at prom. “I… forgot?”

“You’re really gonna go?” Y/n didn’t want to start a fight over this, but she thought her boyfriend would have debated between prom and the convention, or tell her that he had plans at the very least. James nodded. “I just thought that, you know, prom is usually a couple’s thing. And we’re a couple. I thought it might be fun to go together.”

“I can go to prom if you want me to,” James said, wanting to please his girlfriend.

But that caused the opposite reaction. Y/n shook her head, a slight frown appearing on her face. “I don’t wanna force you to go, James. You can obviously go to the convention if you really want to. I just…” She sighed, getting a little worked up. “I just wish you would’ve told me first, that’s all.”

James nodded apologetically. “I was going to, Y/n, I swear. It just slipped my mind.”

“It’s fine.”

The two stood outside the cafe door, wondering if there was anything more to say or if they should go inside.

“You know, just because I’m not going doesn’t mean you don’t have to go,” James said, giving his girlfriend a hopeful look. “I mean, if you want to go, of course.”

Y/n nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

Another pause. “We’re okay, right?”

The slightly scared look on James’ face, like he had done something wrong, made Y/n place her hands on his cheeks and sweep her thumbs over his cheekbones in a comforting motion. “Of course, we’re okay, Jamie.” To emphasize the point, she gave him a peck on the lips before letting go of his face and grabbing his hand. “Now let’s go inside, I’m hungry.”

When they entered the cafe, James walked Y/n to the table their friends were sitting at and pulled out a chair for her to sit in before going to the counter to order for the both of them. “She is not a model!” Erin responded sharply to something Y/n had missed.

“Who’s not a model?” She asked quickly, and her friends looked at her like they didn’t realize she had just now entered the conversation.

“Cara something,” Michelle answered, not very discreetly pointing over to the girl sitting with John-Paul. “The girl that that John-Paul fella is pokin’. Heard she’s gonna be on Baywatch.”

“Oh yeah, I heard that too.”

Erin groaned in frustration, looking at her sister. “Get real, Y/n. She’s not gonna be on Baywatch.”

“It’s just what I heard.”

“Oh my God.” Clare seemed to be the only one still paying attention to John-Paul and the supposed Baywatch model. “Looks like they’re breaking up.”

The girls looked at the couple. Erin almost snapped her neck with how fast she turned her head. “Jesus, are they really?” She wondered aloud, a bit too hopefully. “Are they breaking up?” Cara got up and left the table, leaving a broken-hearted John-Paul to watch her walk away. Erin’s eyes also followed the girl, but she seemed much more gleeful about Cara’s departure. “They are. They’re breaking up. This is class!”

“What?” Clare asked, being the voice for the perplexed group of girls.

“Later.”

As soon as Cara was out the door, Erin jumped out of her seat and sped over to John-Paul.

“What’s class?” James startled the girls as he set some food and drinks on the table before sitting in the empty chair beside Y/n.

“Remember how we were talking about that lad John-Paul?” Y/n asked, taking a sip of her drink as James nodded. “Well, him and the girl he was with, who’s gonna be on Baywatch, by the way, broke up, and she left him. So now Erin’s swooped in like a vulture.”

“She has no respect for herself,” Michelle commented, looking over the menu on the table. “And coming from me…”

“That is bad.” Clare frowned.

“Terrible even,” Y/n added.

“Exactly.”

Clare, Orla, and Michelle soon got up and went to the counter to order. This gave Erin privacy to bother John-Paul, who looked like he was seconds away from a breakdown, and allowed Y/n and James to have lunch and talk in peace.

“Can I have a bite of your sandwich?” The girl asked, pointing at the nibbled-on food in front of James.

“If I can have a bite of your doughnut.” He responded, pointing his own finger to the sweet treat.

The couple nodded in agreement and held their food to each other’s mouths. They took a bite at the same time, mumbling about how good the food was while chewing.

“What’re you doing?” Michelle asked, her lip curling in a slight snarl as she, Clare, and Orla came back to the table.

“What?” Y/n asked, not noticing James taking a second bite of her doughnut.

“You’re looking like you’re going out or something,” Michelle explained, wagging her finger between the two teens. “It’s making me sick. Like, if someone thought I was goin’ out with James, I think I’d kill myself.”

“Hey!”

“Well, he is your cousin, Michelle.” Y/n laughed.

Her friend shrugged and sat down, muttering about how the English thing was worse before talking to Clare about something else. With the attention off of them, Y/n reached down to squeeze James’ hand and smiled at him. But the smile was soon wiped off her face when she realized her doughnut was now half eaten.

***

Erin boasted about her new prom date the entire walk home, much to everyone else’s outspoken chagrin and annoyance. James, Michelle, and Clare were lucky, because they didn’t live in the McCool-Quinn household. So after the three dispersed from the group to go to their own homes, Y/n and Orla had to hear about Erin’s plans to get a new dress and maybe even new shoes to impress John-Paul for their date.

Then, the rest of their family got to hear about it.

“This is a huge deal.” Erin insisted to her mother that she was following around the kitchen. “This is a massive, massive deal. I’m going to the prom with John-Paul O’Reilly, for God’s sake. Come on, Mammy!”

Mary shook her head. “I don’t care if you’re going to the prom with John Paul the Second, Erin. I’m not buying you another frock. End of story.”

“But, Mammy, you don’t understand.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong with your Easter dress.”

Erin scoffed. “There’s lots of things wrong with my Easter dress.”

“It matches Y/n and Orla’s.” Mary persisted, waving her hand over to the girls she just named. Orla was wearing her Easter dress and holding her mother’s cigarette while she and Y/n pinched the fabric at her waist to see what had to be taken in.

“That being the main one.”

“Honestly, Erin, I think we’ll look so cracker if we rock up wearin’ these.” Orla grinned, doing a little shimmy with her words.

Erin raised her brows and gave her cousin a smile that looked more like a grimace. “Right, well I don’t.”

Aunt Sarah pulled more on the loose fabric, grabbing her cigarette from her daughter for a quick drag. “Ach, Mary, you’d think the wain’s been dropped into it. You wouldn’t nip it in a bit for her? I’d do it meself, but sewing plays havoc on my acrylics.”

“Fine.”

“Y/n, dear, can you pin it for me?” Sarah asked, gesturing to her nails. The girl nodded and grabbed some safety pins to cinch Orla’s dress. “Then afterward, Orla and I can do yours for you.”

“Nah, that’s fine,” Y/n replied. “Don’t think I’ll wear it.”

Orla gasped in disappointment, wondering why both her cousins didn’t want to match with her. Meanwhile, Erin kept trying to convince her mother she absolutely needed a new frock.

“I really like this fella, Mammy.”

“Well, if he really likes you, it won’t matter what you wear.”

“Ach, come off it!”

“Have you a date lined up, girls?” Aunt Sarah asked her daughter and niece before taking a drag of her cigarette.

One seemed to be more enthusiastic about the question than the other. “I do, aye,” Orla answered.

“What?” Erin gave her cousin a strange look. “...With, like, a human?”

The girl blinked before nodding, like Erin was the strange one. “...Yeah.”

“What about you, love?” Sarah looked to Y/n, who was wrapped up in making sure she didn’t accidentally stab Orla. The girl looked up when she realized she was being spoken to. “Has anyone snatched you up for the dance yet?”

Y/n shook her head, trying to not seem so disappointed about it. “Nope. But it’s fine.” She sighed, going back to picking at her nails. “I dunno if I’m even gonna go.”

“What d’ya mean you’re not going?” Erin questioned, seeming offended that her sister would even debate not attending the prom. “You have to go.”

“Why do I have to go, Erin?”

Erin made that little sort of laugh and eye roll that she did when she felt like someone had said something silly or dumb, and she was about to correct it with her obvious intelligence. “It’s prom, Y/n. It’s a big deal.”

“It’s only prom-” Y/n was cut off by a commotion in the living room. Gerry yelped in surprise as Joe banged on something, but no one seemed to care enough to look at what was happening. She shook her head and continued. “Besides, Erin, there’ll be other proms. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Y/n could tell her sister wasn’t entirely convinced. To be perfectly honest, she wasn’t too convinced herself. But she’d rather lie and say she didn’t care than make James feel bad about being unable to take her.

Erin looked at Y/n inquisitively. She walked up to her and crossed her arms. “Is this because Ja-”

“This stupid prick’s broken the TV, Mary!” Joe cried out, and his daughter rushed to the living room. Gerry looked appalled at his father-in-law. “He’s been futterin’.”

“Excuse me, you’re the one that was thumpin’ it repeatedly, Joe.”

“I’ll thump you repeatedly.”

“Well, the pair of you’d better sort it out!” Mary interjected before walking over to her sister. “London’s Burning’s on in twenty minutes.”

“God, Mary, but them poor fellas are flat out with fires, so they are. Jesus, but they never get a minute.”

Behind Mary, Joe started to slam the television even harder than before, and Gerry cringed with every slap. “Aye, it’s a good job they keep themselves in such great shape.”

“Don’t, Mary.” Sarah gasped. “That Greek fella…”

“He could throw me over his shoulder any day of the week.”

Y/n and Erin stared at their mother and aunt before looking at each other. They were both equally horrified and disgusted.

“They make me sick.”

“Boke-o-rama.”

***

Clare didn’t take the news of Erin ditching her for John-Paul very well, despite telling Erin it was fine. Erin was the only one who believed her, too wrapped up in her and John-Paul’s revived “relationship.” But Clare pretty quickly found a new date: the new girl from Donegal, Mae, who was going dress shopping with the girls and James when she heard about Erin’s little betrayal.

After Clare’s date problem was solved, the girls had to solve their dress problem. But Michelle came to the rescue—or rather, her mother’s credit card that she stole came to the rescue. Despite Clare’s very vocal opinion about committing a crime, the rest of the girls were on board on account of having no money.

“What do you think of this one?” Erin asked, coming out in a very tight, turquoise dress.

“It’s very…” Y/n trailed off, trying to think of an appropriate word. “Different.”

“I’m not sure it’s you, really,” Michelle added.

“Good,” Erin said, in a bit of a struggle as she walked over to a mirror. “I don’t wanna be me.”

Clare walked up to the group, holding two dresses. “Which of these do you like best?”

“Definitely the pink,” Erin answered.

But Clare didn’t care much about Erin’s opinion. “Has to be the blue,” Mae said, and Clare glared at Erin.

“Yeah, I thought the blue.”

“What about you, Y/n?” James asked a bit quietly, holding a pile of dresses that all the girls had thrown at him. “Don’t you wanna look for a dress? You are going to the prom, right?”

He knew her answer before she said it, because she gave him a bit of a frown and a shrug. “I don’t think I will.”

“Y/n-”

“It’s fine, really! I was thinking of helping Daddy fix our TV.” She looked around at all the clothing racks before giving James what she hoped was a convincing smile. “Besides, nothing here’s really my taste.”

“Although, I have heard he’s really good with his hands.” Michelle talking about one of her possible dates reached the couples’ ears. “And when I say he’s good with his hands, I’m not talking about puttin’ up shelves, girls. I’m talking about-”

“Everybody knows what you’re talking about, Michelle.” James interrupted, hoping it would be enough for her to move on. But everybody also knew there was no stopping Michelle from her vulgarity.

The curly-haired girl smirked. “Fingerin’.”

James cringed. “Honestly…”

After much decision-making about what dresses to get, the girls went to the front to pay with Michelle’s stolen card. Mae, who didn’t find a dress she liked, gasped and pointed behind the counter to a red dress that was hung up.

“Oh my God, that’s the one! Can I try that one on, please?”

“Sorry, love.” The shop owner said apologetically. “That’s being left over for someone.”

“What?”

“Hiya!” In came Jenny Joyce, holding a couple of balloons. “Sorry girls, can’t stop.”

“Don’t worry.” Y/n smiled. “No one asked you to.”

“I’m just grabbing a few wee bits for the prom.” Jenny continued while the owner started bagging up the red dress. “Sure, you know how it is.”

“I was actually about to try that one on,” Mae said, pointing to the dress Jenny was now paying for.

“Well, I left it over, so…”

“It’s just that, red’s my color.”

“Yeah, mine too.”

The rest of the girls backed up a bit, surprised by how hostile Mae and Jenny were becoming towards each other. “No, you don’t understand. I really, really suit it.” The shop owner placed the bag on the counter, and Mae inched her hand towards it. “Garnet’s actually my birthstone.”

“Well, ruby’s mine, so…” Jenny grabbed her bag, and Mae slammed her hand on the counter. She looked at the Joyce girl menacingly. If Jenny was intimidated, she definitely didn’t show it.

“I want that dress, Jenny.”

“Well, you can’t have it.” Jenny left the store, leaving the girls to deal with Mae, who was cursing her out and beyond livid.

***

Prom night had finally arrived after much anticipation. Erin was upstairs in her room getting ready on her own while Aunt Sarah was doing her daughter’s hair and makeup in the kitchen. Mary watched while sipping her tea because Erin didn’t want her help, and Y/n decided to help her father fix their busted television set instead of going to the dance. Granda Joe was nowhere to be found, which relieved Gerry a bit because it meant his father-in-law wasn’t criticizing him.

“Now, close your eyes,” Sarah said, picking up two giant cans of hairspray. “I’m just going to give you a wee light mist, just so it holds for you.”

Y/n could smell the fumes from her spot on the floor in the living room, so she could only imagine what it was like being her mother or cousin in the kitchen. A cloud of hairspray surrounded Orla, making her cough a bit, and Mary covered her tea.

Finally ready, Erin came down from her room and into the kitchen. It took her a bit of effort because her dress was so tight that she had to take baby steps in her heels. “What do you think?” Everyone looked at her, all seeming to have the same reaction.

Mary looked the most surprised by her daughter’s appearance. “God, aye. It’s…” She trailed off, wanting to be honest but nice about it. “Different, isn’t it?”

“Different?” Erin asked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well… it was nice of Michelle to lend it to you, love, but it just doesn’t look…” Mary grimaced, trying to choose her words carefully, “very comfortable.”

Erin rolled her eyes a little. “It’s really comfortable, actually.” She said, walking closer. “It’s like a second skin.”

“I don’t think that’s a good thing, Erin,” Y/n called out, handing Gerry a screwdriver. “I dunno if a second skin should be turquoise and… Well, squeaking when you walk.”

“It does not squeak,” Erin replied, squeaking as she hobbled to the table.

Erin looked forward to see Orla looking at her grumpily. “I wish you would wear your Easter frock, Erin. When we were wee, we always went to parties dressed the same.”

“We’re not wee anymore, Orla.”

Orla grumbled in agreement while Erin handed her mother a piece of paper. Mary unfolded it and looked it over, and Aunt Sarah did the same from over her shoulder.

“What’s this?” Mary asked.

“It’s some guidelines,” Erin answered. “Things you are and aren’t allowed to say to John-Paul when he gets here.”

“Right.” Mary stared into her daughter’s eyes, not looking away as she crumpled the paper into a ball. Erin looked a bit disturbed but decided it was best not to say anything.

“What time’s your date arriving at, Orla, love?” Sarah asked, doing the final fixes on Orla’s hair.

Granda Joe waltzed into the room, wearing a white suit with a yellow rosette pinned to it. “He’s already here.” He said, doing a little spin before walking the rest of the way to the kitchen.

“You asked Granda to the prom?” Erin asked, smiling a little.

Orla’s grin was the widest in the bunch, eyes staying on her grandfather. “Well, everyone kept sayin’ you have to ask a fella you really like, and this is the fell I like the most.” Joe beamed, bowing down and presenting another yellow rose from his pocket for the girl.

“That’s so sweet, Orla.” Y/n said from her spot next to the TV. “Granda’s a lucky lad, that’s for sure.”

“Why, thank you, love,” Joe replied, turning to fully show his granddaughter the happy smile he had been sporting.

“Aye, you’re looking well, Joe,” Gerry added, taking a small break from trying to repair the television to weigh in.

“Oh, it’s not all shite you talk, Gerry.” Gerry gave his daughter an unimpressed look, making her giggle as he went back to the task at hand. Joe turned back to Orla. “Should we head?”

“John-Paul’s picking me up at seven,” Erin replied. “You go on; we’ll see you there.”

Joe looked back to Y/n, waiting for her answer. The girl waved her hand. “Oh, I’m not goin’. Don’t have a date and all that. Besides, I dunno what I’d wear.”

“You could wear your Easter frock, Y/n,” Orla said, trying to entice the girl once more into matching with her. But she just laughed and shook her head.

“No thanks, Orla.”

While Orla said goodbye to her mother and aunt, Joe walked over to Mary and whispered something to her. They looked over at Y/n, who didn’t notice their eyes because she was looking for a tool her father had asked for. Mary nodded at Joe for an unknown reason, and soon, he and Orla were off to the prom.

Erin sat down, struggling quite a bit because of her dress’s tightness. When she was settled, she looked at the clock. Only fifteen minutes until John-Paul arrived.

***

When twenty minutes had passed, Y/n knew John-Paul wasn’t coming for her sister. She couldn’t say she was surprised, but she was still saddened for her sister. “I’ll be right back, Daddy,” Y/n whispered before standing up and sneaking to the entrance where the phone and some privacy were.

Y/n knew she had to call someone, but was racking her brain on who. Everyone she knew was either at the prom or busy with something else.

Suddenly, she jumped as if the idea that came to her had shocked her. She quickly dialed and held the phone to her ear, listening to the rings.

Then, someone finally picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“David?”

“Y/n?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” She peered out the door, seeing Erin still staring at the clock. “How’ve you been?”

“Same old stuff, really,” David answered. “Band’s picked up a few gigs this month, it’s been pretty-”

“That’s great. Listen, can you do me a favor?”

David couldn’t help but laugh at the interruption and how urgent Y/n sounded. “Uh, maybe? What d’ya need?”

“Remember my sister, Erin?” He made a small hum of confirmation. “Well, she used to have a massive thing for you until that whole thing at Jenny’s party a few months ago.”

“You mean when she called that Russian girl your fella was going out with a prostitute?”

“She was Ukrainian, but yes. Anyway, she pretty much gave up on you after that because the whole thing was so embarrassing. But…” Y/n looked to the kitchen again. She could see Mary looking at her daughter a bit sadly, as if she also knew John-Paul wasn’t coming for her. “The prom’s tonight, and her date’s not coming. And… as annoying as she is, she’s my sister and all. So I was wondering if maybe you’d be willing to-”

“I’ll be there at 7:30.” David cut her off, feeling it was only fair since she had interrupted him just moments ago.

Y/n had to keep herself from squealing, not wanting to give Erin the idea that something was going on. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

After saying a quick goodbye, Y/n hung up the phone and snuck back out to the living room. David would arrive in twenty minutes, and she just had to count on Erin being hopeful enough to wait that much longer.

Nothing much had really happened in those twenty minutes. Y/n assisted Gerry in fixing their broken TV, Mary and Aunt Sarah played a card game, and Erin sat and stared at the clock. The only time she moved was to go to the phone in the kitchen, but she was so quiet and far away that Y/n had no idea who she was calling.

When the clock struck 7:30, Erin sighed. “He’s not coming.”

“Ach, love.” Mary frowned.

“I’m gonna go and change.” That made Y/n panic, and she scrambled off of the floor.

“What?” She said, walking over to Erin and slightly shaking her head. “No, just give it a few more minutes.”

“I wanna get out of this thing.” Erin teared up, struggling to get out of her chair. With how tight the dress was, she started to waddle towards the stairs.

Y/n was hot on her sister’s heels, which wasn’t hard because moving was so difficult for her in that tight dress. “Erin, please. Just-” The doorbell rang, and Y/n let out a breath of relief. She scooted past Erin and went to the door. “See! I told you! Now, I know you were hoping for John-Paul, but I think-... James?”

Y/n was stunned to silence. James was standing right in front of her, dressed up as the Fourth Doctor from Doctor Who, smiling right at her. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“David?” Erin waddled over to the door, and that’s when Y/n finally noticed her friend David Donnelly standing next to James, dressed in a suit with no tie.

“Erin.” He replied with a nod.

The two girls looked at each other, confused. “What’s he doing here?” They asked in unison, pointing to the boy that was in front of them, who both laughed at their reactions.

“I called David for you because I knew John-Paul stood you up.”

“I called James for you because I knew you wanted to go to the prom with him.”

Y/n looked up at her boyfriend. “Wait, what about your creep convention?”

She laughed when he rolled his eyes. “It’s not a creep convention, and you know that. And it’s not important. I just…” James sighed, toying with his long, colorful scarf. “I knew the prom meant a lot to you, and Erin calling me just gave me the push I needed. Besides, I didn’t want to miss a chance to dance with my girl.”

“Ach, Jamie.” Y/n sighed endearingly, cupping his face. She gave him a soft, long kiss that he eagerly returned.

Erin and David had their own little conversation, trying not to look at the couple that were sucking face. “I’m surprised you’re here. I haven’t seen you since… Well, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” David laughed a little, thinking back to that night. Then he shrugged. “But Y/n called tellin’ me your date stood you up and… I dunno, you’re kinda cool to talk to and whatever.”

“I am?” Erin asked excitedly.

“I said ‘kinda’.”

“Wait.” Y/n finally pulled away from James, looking down at her attire. “What am I gonna wear?”

“I’ll take you wearing this,” James said, seemingly serious as he looked at his girlfriend’s ripped jeans and oversized sweater that she had stolen from Granda Joe’s closet. The three other teens gave him unimpressed looks. “What? So what if it’s not a formal dress, she still looks nice.”

“I have something better.” Everyone jumped in surprise as Mary poked her head in. “Come over here. I’ve got somethin’ to show you.”

Y/n pulled Erin to their mother, giving the boys a final glance over her shoulder. “Go ahead and talk, we won’t be long.”

Mary led her daughters to the kitchen, where two big boxes they’d never seen before sat on the table. Mary gestured for the girls to open them, which they did.

“Oh my God, Mammy.” Y/n pulled out a pink dress with layers, ruffles, and small arm straps. Erin held a similar styled dress but in blue. “Where on earth did you get these?”

“They were my mother’s,” Mary answered, looking at the dresses fondly. “Your Granda said to bring them out, in case you changed your mind about the dance. Heard it was fifties themed and all that.”

Both of Mary’s daughters now had tears in their eyes, but they were not from sadness. The girls rounded the table to hug their mum tightly.

“You know, the dress is nice and all but-” Erin cut herself off with a sniffle. “I think I wanna match with Orla.”

“Well, one of you better be wearing my Mammy’s dress,” Mary said, deadly serious with only a tiny hint of amusement in her voice. “I didn’t dig these boxes up for nothing.”

“I’ll wear it.” Y/n laughed, grabbing the box with the pink dress. “Come on, Erin, let’s go change.”

***

“You look lovely.” This was the fifth time James had said this to Y/n in the past thirty minutes. But he meant it every time he said it.

And Y/n knew he did because he couldn’t stop staring at her. “Thank you, Jamie. You look just as handsome.” The couple walked to the school doors arm in arm, Erin and David a few steps behind them. “Although…” James opened the door and looked at his girlfriend curiously. “Are you sure you didn’t want to leave the scarf at home?”

“I think it completes the look,” James said with a bit of humor, toying with the piece of clothing. “But if you want, I can leave it in the car.”

“Nah.” Y/n shook her head, giving James a peck on the lips. “How else am I gonna pull you to the dancefloor?”

The two couples went into the decorated gym, quickly spotting two of their friends. Clare was talking frantically to Michelle, who honestly looked like she couldn’t care less.

“Look, there’s a guy here; he knows Mae-” The four heard Clare say before Michelle cut her off, looking over the blonde’s shoulder to see them.

“What’s going on?” Clare turned around, a bit spooked by the sudden appearance of her friends. Michelle grimaced at Y/n and James standing together arm in arm, but opted to comment on Erin’s new date instead. “Oh, don’t tell me. Wank-features stood you up.”

“Yeah.” Erin shrugged it off like she hadn’t cried over John-Paul standing her up about an hour before. She nudged her sister. “But Y/n called David Donnelly here, so I wouldn’t go alone.”

“What can I say? I’m a sweetheart.” Y/n smiled.

Clare put a hand on Erin’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Erin. About John-Paul, I mean.”

“No, I’m sorry. You were right; I was jealous. Mae’s just so cool and exotic, and you liked her so much-”

“She’s deranged!” Clare blurted out with wide eyes, taking everyone aback.

“What?”

“Who’s Mae?” David leaned back to ask Y/n and James, who said they’d explain later. He tsked, tapping Erin’s shoulder. “I’m gonna get a drink.”

“Get me some punch.” She said before turning back to Clare. “What d’you mean, Clare? You were crazy about her yesterday.”

“She’s the one who’s crazy, Erin!” Clare squealed. “I met this guy that went to her school. He said she had to leave for, like, being a bully. He said she’s seriously unhinged! I think he’s a bit pissed off with her, to be honest, and I can’t blame him, ’cause she’s given the Chinese population of Donegal a really bad rap.” Clare’s friends would always be surprised over how much she could say without taking breaks for breath.

Michelle rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Typical Donegal man. Always moanin’.”

“There she is.” Everyone looked to where James was pointing. Sure enough, Mae was on the other side of the large room, going backstage.

“What’s she doing?” Michelle wondered, and everyone started walking closer to the stage to try and get a better look.

“She was talking about how she wasn’t going to let Jenny get away with the whole Prom Queen thing,” Clare answered.

James gasped. “Jesus Christ, look. Above the stage, look!” He pointed again, and everyone followed his finger to the tin buckets rigged with rope above the stage.

“Is she doing what I think she’s doin’?” Y/n asked.

“I think she’s gonna do a Carrie.” The couple looked both concerned and impressed, now both very glad they decided to come to prom.

“Fuck-a-doodle-do!”

“What’s a Carrie?” Clare asked frantically. “What does that mean?”

“You’ve never seen Carrie?”

“No.” Everyone said something about what a good film it was, but Clare wasn’t looking for film critiques. “Expand and explain! EXPAND. AND. EXPLAIN!”

“So, Carrie is voted Prom Queen, and this bully pours a bucket of pig’s blood on her.” James quickly explained.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Well, a lot of other stuff happens. But, you know, that’s the relevant bit.” Y/n said, but before she could go more into the movie, the band on stage finished playing.

Aisling stepped up to the microphone, some feedback echoing through the gym.

“Can I have your attention, please?” She said with a smile. The girls looked terrified. “And now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for. It’s time to crown our Prom Queen.” Mae waited for Aisling to announce the name everyone knew would be said. She held the rope tightly, waiting for the moment she could finally release it. “And now… our Prom Queen is… Jenny Joyce!”

The girl looked completely surprised, and the girls wondered, against their better judgment, if they could just let this all play out.

“We have to do something!” Clare yelled over the celebratory music as Jenny went up on stage.

While Jenny started to give a small acceptance speech, everyone started running. Except for Orla and Granda Joe, who were more than content with eating popcorn and watching the scene. David joined them, holding two cups of punch and wondering why his date was rushing the stage.

Michelle and James joined Erin to try and get Jenny off the stage, while Y/n went with Clare to stop Mae. It was a struggle, but it didn’t help as much as the girls thought it would. The only good thing was that Mae wasn’t crazy enough to use pig’s blood and instead soaked everyone on stage with tomato juice.

Erin tried to tell Jenny that her friends weren’t to blame, but Jenny, of course, didn’t believe her. The two girls started fighting, soon being joined by Michelle and Aisling. James just stood back and watched, not really wanting to intervene, and Y/n would’ve laughed if she wasn’t caught up in trying to break Clare and Mae apart. The rest of the audience seemed to enjoy the spectacle, laughing and having refreshments as it all played out.

***

It was a good thing David had towels in the boot of his car. Erin and James were covered and sticky with tomato juice, no matter how hard they tried to get it off them. Y/n was eternally grateful that she decided to go with Clare to stop Mae, sparing her grandmother’s dress. She didn’t think Joe would be too happy about it being covered in red, no matter how amused he was by tonight’s events.

“Jesus, the street’s packed.” David grimaced as he turned onto the sisters’ street. It was crowded with all their neighbors, whooping and partying for an unknown reason that they would surely hear about tonight or early tomorrow.

Y/n sighed, poking her head out the window. “I dunno if I wanna go home.” She settled back in her seat and looked at her boyfriend. “Wanna go to your place?”

“Sure.” He answered.

“Want me to drive you there?” David asked, but James shook his head.

“No, mate, it’s fine. I’m only a street over.”

“Yeah, take Erin home for me.” The Donnelly boy seemed to miss the sly wink Y/n gave her sister in the rearview mirror.

After some goodbyes and teasing comments, Y/n and James got out of the car and started walking down the street, weaving through all the people out and about. Surprisingly, Michelle and her parents weren’t home when the two arrived. Michelle must have still been panicking over how she was going to return her tomato-soddened dress, and James’ aunt and uncle were either at work or celebrating whatever was going on with their friends.

With the house empty, Y/n and James unwinded and relaxed. James took a much-needed shower, putting his clothes in a plastic bag so they wouldn’t stain anything else. Meanwhile, Y/n shimmied out of her dress and put on some of James’ pajamas.

“So, what do you wanna do?” James asked as he entered his room, a towel wrapped around his waist. Y/n was a little surprised by his boldness, remembering how shy he was some months ago when he didn’t have any clothes at her house and had to stand in his boxers while Y/n grabbed him a sweater.

“Maybe a movie?” Y/n suggested, watching James rifle through his dresser. She was filled with a sudden feeling of not wanting him to put on the clothes he was grabbing. “Carrie would be pretty fitting.”

They laughed, James shaking his head as he slipped his boxers on. “Oh, I don’t know.” He tore the towel off and sat down next to his girlfriend, pulling a shirt over his head. “I think there’s been enough blood, or blood adjacent, covered people tonight.”

Y/n laid back, humming in thought. “Well, there is… another thing... we could do.”

James looked down at Y/n, waiting for her to elaborate. She reached up his back, lightly tugging on his shirt until he laid down beside her. Y/n hooked a leg over James’ waist and brushed some wet curls away from his forehead. As her other hand slowly traveled down his chest, he started to get what she was hinting at.

“Only if you want to, obviously.”

James pushed Y/n off of him only to hover over her, kissing her deeply. He helped her shimmy up his bed until her head was resting on a pillow. Feeling brave, but mainly horny, James pulled away and took off his shirt before slipping his hand under Y/n’s.

“Are you sure?” James asked, slightly panting from how escalated the moment was getting.

“Yeah,” Y/n responded, taking a deep breath before pushing James away so she could take her own shirt off. James stared at her in amazement. Before she could tease him for his reaction, he gripped her bare waist and pulled her against him, kissing her with hunger.

The prom sure was exciting. But sometimes, what happened after was much more eventful.

~~~

The Fella Taglist: @mistahjsfunnygirl @etherealdisneyvillainness @crystalsoobin-m @raggedyoldwitch @rosetintworld @regretthatsme @neenieweenie @allexiiisss @drmeghanjones @eli-com @anything-for-our-moony-toast @ilovespideyyy @eddisaurus @imagines--galore @emma-is-a-nerd @sir1usblacksgf @kaz-2y567 @spidercrush3 @miilkshakess @underthebatcape @dear-jamespotter @brithedemonspawn @acupnoodle @nevillescomslut @hantivity @slaymybreathaway @mystic-writings @thegirlwithoutaname87 @mystic-mara @st4rryhae @ljaneyx @justlibra @siriuslyinlovewithsiriusblack @elauranicolee @in-my-hoe-era @grippleback-galaxy @greensunflowerjuna @sarcasm-and-stiles @callsignwidow @qtkat @asterizee @cursedandromedablack @athenalive

#agaypanic #the fella #james maguire x reader #james maguire #derry girls x reader #derry girls #erin quinn #orla mccool #michelle mallon #clare devlin

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applepixls · 3 months

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my heart goes out to episode 3 secret life grian because I'm kind of living it right now (watch out peeps, low-key a vent incoming!)

in a stream after the big win scar says he's not sure if he could do it again, the whole being alone and having no friends thing and i kind of know what he means. as a real person its hard not having friends because you have no emotional support or people to connect with etc etc etc. in game it was hard not having friends cause he couldn't lean on anyone for resources and always had to leave home and manufacture interactions for content rather than being able to multitask and go caving with a friend (like the "i left my diamonds right here!" bit in last life with grian and mumbo. its just a mundane task but the interaction has become iconic)

but we're talking about grian now. just- the state of this man. i related a little bit too much to him in this episode. he made the diagonal staircase creature the episode before and said it looked like his brain; mush. but then in episode 3 ended up getting the task to follow his old buddy from the previous season around and just having joel go "ok lol lame. this is awkward. we're not really best friends, he's just following me around" (disclaimer: i know its just for the bit and they're good friends irl) and then to have joels new best bud (aka lizzie his irl wife-) go "HAH! you got no fri-endsss~!" (this lives rent free in my head lol) and tease him the following is a compilation of moments i related to having recently drifted from a close friend of several years :) - watching joel bond with the mounders from afar and having him just go "one second grian, we're bonding" when just one season ago they would bond and say who was boogeyman or not at the beginning of episodes - finally thinking he's got a friend because of his task, joel saying he'll "let [him] know" when he takes damage and how much and "oh, you don't want me to hang out with you?" "no but you can go hang out at the top of the helter skelter alone if you want". thinking he had a friend to turn out he didn't. (its then still socially okay and funny that he refused to leave joel alone because its all a bit for the episode) - "he's my pet" "i think we're friends. i think we're best friends" the thinking we're best friends not being mutual - "one moment, grian" as grian's trying to talk to him and joels just doing his task. its the being put off as a second priority over other friends (made me weirdly frustrated despite knowing its all made up silly improv-d conflict between grown adults who are actually friends) - "heard something about a group of friends, maybe I'm now a part of it?" its socially kind of weird to do this irl but the. knowing a bunch of people you know are a like Friend Group and wondering why you're not included - "not even this enderman wants to be my friend! im gonna cry" not that relevant just felt silly and relatable - "am i just here to clarify rules; you guys don't want to be friends?" serving a functional purpose to a group, no ones actually finding you just for you and to chat and be friends (I've gotten messages from friends just needing me to settle arguments between other friends) - (after chanting fail at mumbo) "its just me, this is why i don't have friends" the finding yourself cringe at every turn and thinking wow this is why no one likes me. yknow as im typing this im thinking "wow this is why i have no friends, isn't it? im on tumblr using it as a diary rather than making friends and speaking to them about my issues or finding a therapist to work through my insecurities." - throughout the episode just hating everything he created and wanting to destroy it - the stairs and even later the egg (not relevant to having friends. well kind of but not really. but loneliness can make you act crazy its just the art block and frustration and disappointment in yourself and your failure to have a vision and properly bring it into fruition) - "i definitely won't back down on this, I'm committing fully to the egg" i have a bad habit of running away from friendships when i get scared of any slew of things or just don't like them anymore, hence why i no longer have friends :) - the fact each time he finds something, anything, to pull him away from his whole being alone thing and distract him for any amount of time he goes and dives full in but the conversation always comes back to how he has no friends. - feeling like you'll never be capable of creating and committing to long lasting healthy relationships like everyone else seems to be, settling for short term slightly toxic (joel literally didn't want to be his friend) ones just to have someone to be around. smth smth, "we accept the love we think we deserve."

i'd originally rewatched scar's secret life and thought it would make me sad cause he spent the whole time being alone but scar never made much of a big deal of being lonely and just made comments like "that's not right. how did the guy with no friends win?" feeling like he didn't deserve the win which echoes pearl in double life saying "this wasn't supposed to happen. i wasn't supposed to have friends" like she was scared of making bonds after being rejected by both martyn and scott at the beginning and like she was actually crazy and surely deserved them both leaving and didn't deserve friends but that pattern is an entirely other thing to dig into

when i first watched secret life as it was coming out (October to December 2023) i thought i was on good terms with this friend or was at least deluded and distracted enough to think that. i haven't rewatched grian's perspective since realizing our friendship was all falling apart at the beginning of this year (mostly in march) and then running away from some other friends and becoming a weird little egg on my own. its funny how grians made up improv'd loneliness can echo real loneliness, isn't it?

im very happy he got adopted by cleo and etho the next episode.

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suffarustuffaru · 10 months

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why the emilia camp thinks otto is their most threatening member 👍

i see some people being confused on why the emilia camp collectively seems to agree that otto is the biggest threat there for some reason and like. yeah. i get it.

but let me explain real quick why i think it makes sense for the emilia camp to think that :O !!

otto though is disarming because. well okay look at him he doesnt look threatening at all. he has the looks and personality of a wet cat. hes whiny. hes cringe fail. he gets stressed out with paperwork. he looks like you could just smack him around like a bug. he HAS been smacked around like a bug. but that makes him unpredictable because apart from roswaal, he is the Most Amoral one there. you can expect roswaal to be trying some shit, but youd never know when to expect otto is planning something. his moral compass is just “does this benefit me or my loved ones in some way? if not, then its gonna be gone 🥺”.

sure, he does nice things sometimes out of the goodness of his heart. he genuinely means well a lot of the time.

but also then you read the shit hes thinking in his internal dialogue and its like.

“should i go save some girl i dont even know from bandits??? hmm lemme think for a couple minutes. im the only one that can help rn… some guy claiming to be her dad is begging me to help his daughter, but also hes kind of annoying… but i dont even live in this city so why should i help… or Care. actually. but i feel kinda bad about this girl… but also this is gonna put me and my profits in danger… but if i reject helping then im forever gonna be known as the guy who abandoned them and then i wont be able to make any sales in this city anymore :<<<< ……anyway im gonna help them then lol im so smart.” and then he gets captured by the exact same bandits anyway so hes like “well okay now me and this girl might be sold into slavery so i might as well save both of us or ill feel bad ☝️☝️”

(yes. yes this is genuinely ottos thought process if you read through the Otto's Bittersweet Peddling Log side story.)

except all the back and forth Calculation he does in his head Stays In His Head and doesnt match up with his outward appearance most of the time. which means that sometimes his words dont match up with his actions. “dont be surprised if i leave at the first sign of danger,” he says, right after risking his life and writing a suicide note over a dude hes known for like four days. “ahah thanks for giving me a vacation to see my family…” he says, damn well knowing he cant go back home yet otherwise he’ll get sniped by assassins. “im gonna give you some of my own money bounty money to help you BUT BUT BUT DONT THINK THAT IM NICE OR ANYTHING I NEED MOST OF THE MONEY FOR REPAIRS OK YOU CAN ONLY HAVE A BIT :<<<“

this also means that whenever otto says or does something Particularly Questionable, all his friends are still kinda blindsided by it because otherwise otto seems Mostly Fine in comparison to whatever the hell everyone else has going on. hes just a wet pathetic cat of a guy ahah. theres nothing more going on with h—

“if everyone in vollachia dies but rem and natsuki-san live, then we’ve won. if everyone in vollachia lives but rem and natsuki-san die, then we’ve lost.”

um otto can you repeat that. what the fuck did you just say.

otto looks Mostly Normal, Just Stressed Out or Somewhat Chilling the vast majority of the time, and then he whacks you over the head with a steel chair. like can you imagine being garfiel and learning that this pathetic rag of a man is actually pretty brave when it counts. youre like “oh cool lol we kinda beat each others asses and i was Annoyed but now that thats all over i got some newfound respect for you!!” and then you read through his diary and hes got a suicide note in there, which is like. okay fine whatever hes kind of a clown just like my New Captain lol but hes dedicated to his friends, ill give him that. and then a year later you find your now brother figure (whos also lowkey highkey an alcoholic) with a broken hand after punching a wall because he couldnt do his Lets Abandon 50 Million People Plan and youre just sitting there going

and okay dont get me wrong—subaru is Batshit Crazy. in Multiple Incomprehensible Ways. if the emilia camp (or Anyone. At All.) knew about all the shit hes done and been through with rbd, subaru would INSTANTLY be skyrocketing up the Most Threatening People list. but at the same time subarus less threatening than otto in the sense that subarus Always going to want to do good. hes Always going to want to save everyone. hes Extremely forgiving, on top of that. he goes along picking up friends everywhere he goes in his own Incomprehensible Unhinged Way and hes fond of All of them.

otto? yeah his opinion of you could shift on a dime and you could end up in his personal shit list unless youre one of the *checks list* *clears throat* maybe like ten people he cares about. and even if youre on the I Care About You! :) list, he could still get pissed enough at you to, i dont know, punch a wall over you? and spiral into obsession? and even if hes not upset at you hes still gonna mansplain manipulate malewife his way to his goals <33

and yeah of course subaru is also Mansplain Manipulate and Gaslight Gatekeep but at least he has way more good intentions AND his attitude about it is gonna be like "sorry :<<< i just gotta do this for your sake :<<<<<< :((( haha dont worry about it". subaru would never ever want to do anything big to hurt his loved ones (except for rbd). while otto doesnt even bat an eye. everyone can be manipulated if he has to. he goes down his list of Things I Need To Do and goes "yeah that had to be done. oh well. anyway i got more shit to do (like maybe kill a toddler lol)"

also lets talk about roswaal's perspective really quick. post-arc 4 hes like "well subaru-kun is always gonna want to save everyone and hes doing a pretty good job of things in general so whatever lol. i can still keep him in check by killing everyone if even one of his friends dies :)". so its like. YEAH subarus an Unhinged Wildcard. roswaal knows that. but right now subaru is more predictable and also again, roswaal knows he can keep subaru in check by making subaru have to reset if roswaal really needs to.

but otto? yeah ottos second in line for being an Unhinged Wildcard. but whats even worse is that otto is Basically Subaru but More Calculating and with a moral backbone thats Near Nonexistent. roswaal was genuinely concerned for otto in arc 8 for once and there was still Literally No Stopping Otto from being a stubborn little shit whos hell bent on all the maladjusted insane mentalities hes got floating around in his head, half of which he doesnt even say out loud, and all of which he thinks is Completely Right and that theres Nothing Wrong with what hes doing.

and also otto being underestimated and Not In The Tome was a big help as to how subaru got the win over roswaal in arc 4 👍and then otto Continues to try keeping an eye on roswaal after arc 4, to the point of getting roswaal's tome and actively trying to investigate roswaal's actions, so roswaal is Very Aware that otto is. a bit of a threat. roswaal of course is smarter and more powerful than otto though, but that still doesnt change the fact that otto is still capable of being a threat if roswaal doesnt Also kind of keep an eye on otto back. because roswaal kind of lost to otto already in arc 4!!

but okay, on top of all of this, no one knows the full extent of whats going on with otto, not even roswaal (though he has his Suspicions), and most definitely not subaru yet (whos Still a bit of an otto apologist anyway), and otto is already a bit menacing even without knowing All of that. and the rest of the emilia camp are already a bit more lenient with roswaal (as hes seemingly chilled out after arc 4 + they all need him still). that, and you can easily Expect roswaal post-arc 4 to be suspicious and Probably up to something. you wont know what it is, but you wont Exactly be surprised when it happens.

and also roswaal isnt publicly batshit crazy like otto is. otto of course isnt as Openly Weird as subaru, but otto is still Openly Unhinged and Pathetic. just look at him declaring julius and anastasia, HIS CAMP'S ALLIES, as enemies right to their faces alsdfjlsdjfl.

and with subaru, there is Zero doubt in the emilia camp's minds that subaru wants the best for them and everyone around them.

otto though? yeah he also wants whats best for the camp. he Cares about them, he really does. but hes so obviously Questionable by the time you get to arc 8 to the point where the entire rest of the camp starts eyeing him like this:

theres also the fact that ottos dp allows him to have eyes and ears Everywhere so long as he doesnt overuse it. that paired with his Intelligence, Stubbornness, and Lack of Morals or self-awareness/sometimes guilt/regret over his actions is dangerous. theres a reason why gluttony if subaru decided to flood The Entire Surrounding Area Around Otto. the flood took away the potential army otto couldve made out of the animals and allies otto had in the city, and once you do that, whats otto going to do against someone like shaula? all of ottos power regarding his People Skills and Animal DP was stripped away.

but if that Isnt stripped away... well honestly otto can do whatever the hell he wants the moment he figures out a solid plan to try and get what he wants. his biggest ability at the core of what makes him dangerous is his ability to quite Literally be in the background. so long as hes underestimated, so long as he still has secrets, no ones gonna know the full extent of his bullshit!! you cant stop him if you dont even realize what hes going to do, and hes Good at doing that!!

and if gluttonybaru hadnt taken out otto, subaru would be skyrocketing right to the top of ottos shit list after subaru literally just killed All of ottos (and previously subarus.) loved ones. otto wouldnt stop until he figured out how to destroy subaru. its to the point where im pretty sure if otto had to choose between destroying half the world vs kill gluttonybaru once and for all, otto would certainly choose one of those options in a Heartbeat.

anyway. if youre an emilia camp member, and you see the dude whos in charge of the Vast Majority of the factions political affairs, the guy who you Know is very intelligent and competent and determined when it counts, say shit like "if everyone dies in this entire country i wouldnt even give a single flying fuck as long as our friends get back safe and sound :) it would be such a loss if the entire country lived but our friends didnt :<<<" OF COURSE I WOULD BE LIKE YEAH THAT GUY IS THE MOST DANGEROUS ONE HERE. HE HAS THE SKILLS AND THE MOTIVATION TO BACK UP THAT STATEMENT AND I WONT EVEN KNOW WHEN ITD HAPPEN. he also has the Mental Instability to back that up too, given the amount of times he spends drinking and Raging and Being Terribly Anxious over Every Little Thing.

youll be sweating buckets being wary of otto while ottos casually standing there with his wet cat looks and a knife in your back.

and otto has, for the most part, some of the most normal trauma compared to a bunch of people in this cast (not to discount ottos trauma and pain or anything but its true lajdsfls sorry otto. but also im not sorry because arc 5 was partially on you T^T). he doesnt have rbd, he doesnt have some weird family drama bullshit going on like the astreas or emilias family or the segmunts, he hasnt been erased by gluttony, etc etc. but hes still like this. if you put him in subarus position and gave him rbd, he would get even worse than he already is.

yeah so anyway thats my quick rambley psa about why i think it makes sense that the emilia camp's voted otto as the most threatening one there 👍

but the fact that we (the audience) (or at least some of us!!) keep questioning why the hell the emilia camp thinks otto is the biggest threat there is means that otto's funny silly guy image is. Kind of Working??? just a little bit.

because. granted. of course i think subaru is easily the most threatening person there with both His Flavor of Insanity and rbd. subaru is an eldritch horror in every single way. but at the same time - hes an eldritch horror who thinks friendship is the best magic of all T^TT !!! he FORGIVES PEOPLE WHO'VE KILLED AND TORTURED HIM. hes not threatening in this sense - the fact that hes kind of just way too nice in this sense!!! granted yes, he IS abusing rbd and Terrifying and Threatening in a multitude of ways, but i'd rather take my chances with mainbaru over main otto right now HAH T^TT at least subaru will apologize and start bawling his eyes out if he stabs some random innocent civilian and stranger in the gut for Some Necessary Reason!! otto would feel a bit bad and then completely Eradicate that feeling of guilt with "i had to do it. it was them or me so no regrets <3".

because otto..................... yeah otto is the Worlds Most Pathetic Yandere to his whole camp.

#this is an impromptu ramble post i made again while taking a break from homework alsjdflsd but yeah ive been seeing people Still being #confused about this over on reddit so i felt like typing smth up about it just to try and figure this topic out!!! bc you think the emilia #camp would be voting up like roswaal as their most dangerous member right??? but no!! its canonically otto!! which is very fascinating hah.#and it genuinely doesnt make sense at first until you think about it for. a While.#re:zero #rezero #arc 8 spoilers #otto suwen #natsuki subaru #roswaal l mathers #did i write this just for that last line of this post?? maybe....

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just-some-random-blogger · 2 years

Note

Hey friendo can I make a totally self indulgent request for Morpheus being soft and in love with pre-K teacher reader (I’m Going Through It and need some soft Morpheus) 🥺

"TEACHER! HE HAS MARKER IN HIS EYES!"

Dream of the Endless x Preschool Teacher!Reader

Summary: (... no, Tim, that's eyeliner.) In which Dream decides if it is inappropriate to come to you in his human form at work, then he will be will have to do so in another.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: Kids lol, gender neutral!reader, touch deprived!dream, kitty meow meow dream (real), fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: BESTIEEEEE OMG YOURE HERE ASKING *ME* FOR SOEMTHING AISHFL:AHSFHASLFHASLFHA OMG LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO dang i started to hate what i wrote (because of tim T_T HAHHAH jk) then thought to start over until my brain woke me up with an idea and now its 12am and im finishing this so i hope you like it baby <3 headcanon: the gif is dream waiting for you to finish with work in the playground nearby the school T_T RIP

Previously on: I'm Dating An Endless Being With No Concept of Personal Space or Boundaries

I let out a shriek when I enter my classroom and find a tall man standing there by my desk, just looking at the entrance, waiting for me.

"DREAM!" I quip under my breath, "are you crazy?! What you doing here?"

The pout on his lips intensifies upon hearing my words.

He was not expecting the reaction he merited. Usually, when he came to school, he was received with eager attention, even by people that he did not want attention from. He vividly recalls adults complimenting him to you and some children shouting things about him at you.

Dream knits his brows, "have I done something to upset you?"

I give him an incredulous look as I cringe at the sound of a child crying from outside. I push past him and get what I came here for the first place, a box of tissues.

I feel Dream watch me as I grab the carton and give him an annoyed expression, "you better not be back here when I return, Dream."

"I didn't mean to sound-" "You hate me." "I don't hate you! I was flustered I-" "You don't love me anymore" "Dream, baby, that's not true." "You'd rather be with those kids than me." "I was at work." "I would never send you away if I was working." "I know. But that's also because you're your own boss and-" "I just wanted to visit..." "I know! I know, and I'm sorry." "... I forgive you..." "Thank you." "... even though you hurt me..." "..." "... and love those kids more than me."

"TEACHER TEACHER!"

I take a moment before turning to the caller, just as the boy screams again, "TEACHERRRR!"

"What is it now, Tim?"

"THERE'S A CAT IN THE CLOSET!"

"A what?!"

I grab Tim before he can even think to touch whatever cat managed its way into our classroom. All the children crowd behind me upon hearing after. With the small child in my arm, and my leg fending off the rest of the kids from going any closer to the closet door.

"Ok, Tim, what exactly did you see in the closet."

"A black cat."

I narrow my eyes and hum, "are you sure it wasn't just a sweater."

Tim shakes head, "it," he meows exaggeratedly, "at me."

I release a huff, "alright, it seems we have a cat to save."

The kids fuss as I put Tim down, and he then bounces excitedly at my words with the rest of his classmates.

I place a finger to my lips as I look between my students, "we don't want to scare the kitty, now do we?"

Immediately, the kids start shushing each other.

I ask the kids to move as I slowly open the door, in case the kitty thinks to lunge or run away. Instead, I am met with wide eyes and a meow that leaves the kids squealing.

There is another chorus of shushes and I bend and slowly outstretch my hand out to the cat.

The sweet thing rubs its black face against me, then its black body, and all at once it's very clear to me.

"Dream?"

Hello, my love.

I slap my hand on my face and fall to my butt when I hear the mental reply.

"Teacher!" Heather calls in concern, "are you ok?"

I turn to her as Dream walks out the closet and nuzzles by my ankles.

"Did the bad kitty bite you?" a distance voice calls.

Dream does not take kindly to the accusation and looks at the direction of the child who spoke.

"No, my dear, Dream did not-"

"Who's dream?" I recognize Luca's soft voice.

"Is that the name of the cat?" one blurts.

"OHEMGEE TEACHER IS THAT YOUR CAT?!"

This sparks a heated debate amongst them.

"Children," I finally have the wits to speak, "settle down and go back to your seats," I get to my feet.

There is a public outcry, and instead, the children surround Dream as he retreats under one of the desks. They try to stroke at him, and I wait for him to react the way cats do when they're disgusted, but he does not.

"Children, please, don't touch the cat."

They obviously do not listen.

"Teacher, your kitty is very shy," Libby comes up to my side and grabs my hand, "my kitty is very naughty."

I smile at her and point, "that kitty is very naughty too."

The sound of Dream meowing (in protest) makes the entire class burst into a fit of giggles.

I huff as I bend back and beckon my naughty lover, "come here, pretty boy."

Dream does not waste time and dashes over to me, practically leaping into my arms. He purrs when he is against me, and nuzzles his face in the crook of my neck.

The class lets out a chorus of awws.

"TEACHER CAN I PET YOUR KITTY!"

"I WANT TO PET THE KITTY TOO"

"What's the cat's name again?"

"I don't remember."

"I WANT TO NAME THE CAT OREO!"

"GERALD!"

"Children, please," I interrupt for the nth time, "we have to bring the cat outside."

There is a public outcry.

The clamoring children cry out in protest and I eye the cat dirtily as he continues to snuggle against me. I release a huff and raise Dream in my hand, a la Lion King.

This surely stops the children. They look up at the dangling paws of Dream with wonder.

"Right," I say, "I reckon one cuddle each, then he's going out the window."

"I understand why you like being with those children now." "Again, I was doing my job." "Yes. A noble job, with many benefits." "..." "They were all surprisingly gentle." "..." "I am excited to see them ag-" "You do know if you cause another frenzy in my class again, I'm locking you up in a cage and sending you to a shelter." "..." "..." "... perhaps then instead of a cat, I-" "DREAM I SWEAR-"

#dream of the endless #dream of the endless fanfic #dream of the endless fluff #the sandman fanfic #the sandman fluff #the sandman x reader #dream of the endless smut #morpheus fluff #the sandman x you #dream x you #dream fanfic #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless x you #morpheus x reader #morpheus x you #cat!dream

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candyredappledragon · 9 months

Text

h-hi! the name is kieran. nice to meet you! ive been here for a bit and uhm.... sadly figuring out how to use this site! ( kind of afraid of interacting with others especially but im trying my best to not be easily scared ! ) i am not familiar with technology and or online things/words so please be patient with me. i know there are other kierans here too and honestly theyre pretty cool! ....d-dont tell them i said that. im not really a battler so if you are trying to look for one then im sorry to say that you will be disappointed but you can ask the others though. really sorry

..uh thank you for checking my blog— furret youre on my facEXSFDGCVHH

🍎 Please no genuine anon hate, nsfw, or anything really bad. ( You can be mean to Kieran! ) Pelipper mail is okay ( but malice is off for now ). Sapient Pokemon or the likes of interacting are fine too, Kieran is too much of a goofball to notice it. Please don't give him Pokemon the thought is appreciated but if you do they'll turn into stickers lol.

Please don't be weird. I'm serious. As well PLEASE be patient with me and not be pushy. I'm trying my best!

This Kieran is in AU as to what happens if Florian doesn't lie to him about Ogerpon and whatnot! Kieran still doesn't get Ogerpon and is fine with it ( kind of, as in this made him feel inferior to having friends and will always be chosen over by other people. ) His way of thinking is that maybe he should try to be nice and kind to others so that will help him get friends as he sees Florian do this the same to others. ( The only thing Kieran thinks he's not good at is having a funny personality. He is very awkward in person. ) Blueberry Academy was hard on him as he was almost practically as ignored and students tend to forget he is the champion because of his cowardly personality. Florian took over later as champion. Okay there.

(By the way this is a summary please don't hurt me. 💔)

Plus I will try to draw for asks but they won't be the best but surely will motivate me to draw! If there are no asks then I'll just draw daily things with Kieran so it's a win-win for me!

💥 This Kieran doesn't like to get involved with stuff so feel free to drag him into antics! He isn't the one to approach people either so if you are wondering why I don't start convos with other blogs with asks that's why. ( I'm shy too. ) He's a bit of a coward online and in person but he won't shy away trying to be friends with others.

🍎 Posts are tagged to make things easier! Feel free to block one of them to make your experience smooth!

Art related: art tag , art reply , daily Kieran art

Text related: text reply/reply text , text ask , text post , ooc post , reply reblog

Other: long post

Anything you want to be tagged? Please let me know! :)

"Can we use your art?" Feel free to use the art or whatever! Don't need to credit and I prefer not to be credited. You can edit it too! Idgaf just no bigotry. :,] "What do we call you and do you have pronouns?" Uhm, you can call me Eight or any other version of the number 8 itself. [ Ex: Ocho, Hachi, Acht, etc ]. No pronouns! Refer me to by name or just call me mod or some other third thing lol. "What art program do you use?" Clip Studio Paint! "Are you okay with collabs?" Of course! Please feel free to message me anytime. :] "What time do you post art/responses?" Uhm....... anytime to be honest? My sleep schedule is ABYSMAL. I am very much online unless I'm busy doing comp. "Are replies time sensitive when interacting with this blog?" Nope! Take your time with your replies. I am pretty chill and everyone is pretty busy with real life. Fair warning I'm a ditz. :( "Why did you make this blog?" To draw Kieran a thousand times over until I'm dead lol. ( Even if it isn't posted on this blog!) And world build my stupid au. :u I'm just currently on a small burnout on drawing. I'm sorry. :c

"Is this a sideblog?" Yeah, you are never going to find out my main!! It's very cringe ( it has different media art ). I will interact with my other sideblog with thoughts and reactions at times. [ if you are curious @/hahahasquib ]

"Do you like Kieran?" No. ( Yes. A normal amount. )

#rotomblr #pokemon irl #pkmn irl #pkmn rp

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kitmoas · 2 years

Text

Pernicious Prospect

Summary: Playing a little game to seal the fate of your life is only fun when you play it with a spider.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 5.6k ish

Warnings: Dark!Natasha, dark fic!!!!!, drugging (nat's serum), intense gun play (Russian Roulette), alcohol (and making bad decisions drunk), slight inspection kink, faux drowning..? kinda?, Nat is mean but also sweet. Toxic Nat. degradation, slight size kink if you squint, lots of names, hostage vibes?, stalking vibes, technically Stockholm syndrome too

*As usual let me know if I missed anything important*

***MINORS DNI*** ***18+***

A/N: This got a lot longer than it was supposed to be lol BUT look i wrote a dark fic without blood :O im just as surprised as you ALSO ignore any mistakes I made in this :) We ALSO dont talk about the hellsite not posting this yesterday :)

Main Master list // Kitmoas | Occult

You weren’t aware of the deep forest eyes watching as you danced with your friends in the club, a few drinks in and no show of stopping anytime soon. The group had no idea when everyone would go home, a Friday night after a huge test meant everyone wanted to party until they couldn’t remember their names.Someone knew when you were going home, had your entire night planned down to how many drinks you would be having. Not once did they let you out of their sight, after months of observation and planning everything was ready.

The anxiety and stress that you felt the past few weeks was melting out of your brain as you downed more and more shots. Stumbling towards the bar you yell over the music asking for another drink, but the man just shakes his head before walking away. Whipping around to try and find your friends, jumping when you come face to face with the ginger. In your intoxicated state it takes your brain far longer than you would normally would have to recognize who was standing in front of you, but when you finally do your jaw drops. “Oh m’gosh! You’re ‘lack widow!”

The woman in front of you cringes internally at your slurred speech, cursing herself for letting you drink so much, but she smiles softly at you regardless. “I am, sweetie. Are you okay? You seem far too drunk to be left alone.” You stumble forward just on time, cursing yourself at your clumsiness in front of the Avenger. “Let me accompany you home? I can drive so you don’t have to walk.” She watches as you melt just from her simple words, smug at how quickly you agree.

You watch with wide delighted eyes as Natasha pays off your entire tab, making sure you pocket your credit card. She also quickly helps clean up any mess that you created, letting each one of your friends know that she would be escorting you home. Tipping not only each bartender, but each bouncer, as she tied up any loose ends that you may be leaving behind. Lastly she even had you use the bathroom before you left, holding your bag as she waited patiently outside the door after checking that you would have the entire bathroom to yourself.

She easily guides you outside, her strength coming into play each time you stumble or sway too much. You’re talking loudly, asking her what car is hers but she just stays silent; nodding politely at people as you pass them. Basically swooning when she opens your door for you, you giggle as you crumble in the passenger seat of her Stingray.

It doesn’t take much time for you to be excitedly climbing all over, leaning heavily against the dashboard with your face squished against the windshield. Mumbling out slurred directions, you try your hardest to direct the ginger on where to go to get to your house but unbeknownst to you she had every single route from the bar possible memorized. Playing along with your excitement each time you saw a landmark you recognized, she bathed you in praise and relished in each happy wiggle she got in return.

Even though she drove at an exceptionally slow pace, an attempt to keep you safe as you clambered around the car, she felt as though the two of you arrived at your apartment all too quickly. Pulling up in front of your building, she makes sure the coast is clear before walking around the car to open your door for you. You stare up at her, admiring her face as the moon and street lights illuminate her.

Stumbling as she drags you out of the car, “C-come inside please just for little yknow.” You tangle your fingers in her flowy shirt, humming in appreciation at the soft fabric. “Please…just at least to help?” You’re unsure of where this clinginess came from, the need to act cool in front of her slowly disappearing at the idea of the widow leaving your life just as quickly as she entered.

Natasha acts naive, innocent even, as she humbly agrees to make sure you get in bed with water and ibuprofen. Her devious smirk only appears once your focus is on the door, fumbling to unlock it. Her steady hand lands on yours, her warm body pressing against your back. Entirely too buzzed you don’t question how she knows your intricate passcode, instead giddy as you drag her into your home. Spinning to show her everything, slurred rambling as you point things out.

She nods along, mindlessly listening to random facts about trinkets she already knows about, as she moves around your kitchen. Getting you a Gatorade, not water knowing you won’t drink it, and a snack she sighs as she looks around for your medicine. “Do you think you can find your pain meds by yourself drunkie, or will that be too much for your fuzzy little brain?” Watching you salute, taking your given job extremely seriously, the ginger smirks as she cracks open the capsule from her bracelet into your drink.

By the time you come back, tripping over your own feet, triumphantly holding a bottle of pills above your head Natasha had already set the food by your bed and gotten you pajamas. Before she can stop you, you’re stripping at the excited idea of wearing something she wants to see you in. “Than’u it’s sooooo comfy!” Flopping onto the bed, you roll around as you look up ar her. She’s watching you, careful eyes, as she waits for you to calm down.

Reaching out to hold your hand, she pulls you into a sitting position gently. A smile on her face as she brings the tray of food and drinks over, “Do me a favor, dove, just get a little bit of something in your stomach? For me?”

The way she’s looking at you will forever be engraved in your mind, something you would never be able to deny. You can’t even attempt to fight her, gobbling up the pretzel sticks and downing the gatorade greedily. You preen under her attention, wiggling at the small achievement of earning her momentary praise. Quieting down as you settle in bed, head nestled in the pillows as your attention turns to the quiet television show she turned on.

You’re blissfully unaware of how she watches you, sharp eyes waiting for a flash of cherry red haze. It only takes a few moments, blinking as if you have something in your eyes before you have an urge to be near her. Natasha is sitting at the edge of the bed, a normally respectable distance but you need her closer and that is starting to scare you.

It doesn't take long for the widow to realize you’re squirming, a distressed look on your face, and she knows that you truly are the perfect little experiment for her own serum. Her rough calloused hand slips across your jaw, turning your head back and forth before it closes around your throat. Inspection of you doesn’t take long, your mind clearing from its initial hit of serum all too quickly for Natasha.

Once your eyes do clear, and you’re able to ignore the way your pussy throbs and your muscles shake, the widow can see the anger rising. She watches the way your body tenses, and she knows your fight or flight is kicking in. Even though she’s expecting it, the way you flail about surprises her. Your fist only an inch or two away from her face, you keep trying to strike her but it’s almost as though she’s inside an invisible box. Hitting the unseen wall over and over again, you stare in shock at your own hand.

You try pulling it back, gently pushing your palm forward but you are able to cup her cheek. Stuttering, you want to ask what is going on but the words are lost in your throat. Gasping you try to breathe as you can feel the panic filling your body, something was weird and you knew that it had to be some sort of Avenger science or maybe something from Russia. This was all too much and your favorite hero was suddenly turning into a dark shadow that would loom over you for the rest of your life.

Before you can even try to escape, still on your back, as an electroshock travels through your body radiating from the small red electric disk now stuck on your body. Paralyzing, you can feel the energy swarming through your body and the scream that rips from your throat is shrill. She’s moving your body, manipulating it as she wants and for some unknown reason you just let her.

Spread out on the bed, you try your hardest to figure out a way to escape. This was your room, your home, and you still felt trapped. You’re unsure of what she did to you but you feel sluggish and it’s almost like you can’t move as she walks away. The widow is only gone momentarily but the moment she settles back on the bed, your heart beat seemingly settles down.

Natasha reaches for you, rough hands running up your thighs as she watches your abs tense from her touch. “You know, you were so cute and just so excited to put on the clothes I wanted.” She pulls at the flimsy crop top and skin tight booty shorts, chuckling at just how naive you are. “It was so easy to get you right where I want you, it’s almost pathetic. Almost too easy.” Her hands are ghosting between your legs, running her nails along the most sensitive parts of your lower body.

The tearing of your shorts doesn’t surprise you, your brain working overtime to attempt to be one step ahead of what was happening. If you could come to terms with it, maybe you could find the strength to fight it. You curse your body for reacting to the way she touches you, knowing that your crush on her doesn’t help, when her fingers touch your uncovered pussy. She can see the wetness shining in the dim lighting, and she uses her thumb to smear the slick. “If you really wanted me to stop, don’t you think you would be just a little less wet?”

Her hands are everywhere, pulling at your nipples and scratching down your torso. You want to keep your eyes open to try and stay alert but you can’t help when they slip closed. It shouldn’t come as much of a surprise when you feel your fingers probing you, poking and pulling you open. She’s inspecting you again, silently. It shouldn’t make an intense wave of arousal hit you, but you know she sees the wetness gush out of you as she opens you up.

The ginger makes an appreciative noise, deep in her throat before she begins to push 2 fingers into you. She grunts when she meets resistance, you're wet but still tight. Ignoring the way you squirm away, trying to kick and claw at her hand, Natasha just moves her fingers faster. Occasionally letting her thumb rub at your clit, hard and throbbing. It isn’t long until she notices the changes.

No matter how hard you want to say you hate the way her long rough fingers move inside you, you can’t deny how close you are. It’s embarrassing but after months, almost years, of crushing on the infamous Black Widow how could you not react so easily to her. You had yearned for someone to treat you roughly, to take you and use your body as they pleased, but you never had found someone that wasn’t too scared to do it.

Even as you realized each step she was going to make, you weren’t finding the strength to truly fight it. If anything you were finding ways to excuse her, to let yourself fall into her web. Your body was already cracking under the pressure, arousal leaking down your thighs and into the sheets below you. It was only a matter of time before your brain fully caught up, you knew that you didn’t have the mental strength to go up against someone so highly trained like the Black Widow.

Your body was getting used to the force that Natasha was shoving her fingers into you, creeping towards the edge. The way your body’s temperature rose slowly signified the steady build of your orgasm. Reduced to just quiet pants and moans, you wanted to beg the widow to move faster–to take what she wanted.

Unbeknownst to you, you never had to ask or tell the ginger to take what she wanted from you. You were naive and innocent to what she had infected your body with. From this moment on you would be hers, to do whatever she could imagine doing to you. She was being generous by stretching your body, stretching her pussy.

Ownership was something the Russian always struggled with, after years of never truly having something of her own, but when she saw you she knew that no one else would ever touch you. Months of planning and creating the perfect serum, all so that you would be laid out underneath her. All so that she could finally own something all by herself, her favorite thing–you.

Your moans and the warmth in your stomach were driving you crazy, it felt like she wouldn’t just shove you over the edge. Straddling the line between ecstasy and torture, you let your mouth fall open. Jaw cracking as you mewl, begging to be touched with more purpose.

Through hooded eyes you see your jade counterpart’s roll, an annoyed grunt breaking through barred teeth. “Such a needy little thing even after fighting me. Have you learned your lesson yet?” Her question goes unanswered when she pulls her fingers out, tucking the last two in. She’s enchanted as she watches your leaking red pussy open up, stretching to take four of her digits.

It isn’t gentle, and she’s shoving them inside you, but it’s enough to make you topple over the edge. Your back arching, and a scream tearing through your throat. It isn’t exactly the most pleasurable orgasm, entirely too mixed with intense waves of pain. It’s short lived, the widow yanking her fingers out of you and leaving you clenching around nothing. Your slick dribbling slowly out of you and coating your thighs even more. She leaves you a sticky mess as she stands, wiping the wetness from her hand on your heaving stomach.

As you’re still trying to recover, Natasha starts moving you. Chastising you when you begin to whine, pulling and pushing you so you’re on your knees. Her touch is almost gentle as she guides you into the position she wants. Your face is pushed into the bed, drool soaking the fabric as you try to breathe. Something settles along your torso, possibly her own body, but you’re overstimulated and your senses can’t make sense of anything.

You hear metal clanking rapidly, almost high pitched, and it makes your blood run cold. Ragged breathing as you try to bring air to your lungs with your face is pushed into the warm damp sheets. The pressure between your shoulder blades and along your hips keeps in place, even as your muscles twitch as the anxiety builds. The sound was familiar, but you couldn’t quite place it.

A cool heavy steel trails along your ribs, tapping teasingly against each bone. “You wanna play a game, malysh?” She mocks you, seemingly giving you a choice. Her hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head up. The shiny revolver obstructs your blurry vision as you gulp down as much oxygen as possible, as quickly as possible. “You know where I come from, don’t you красивая девушка?”

The stickiness of her bright wine colored lipstick pulls at the thin skin along your ear, leaving remencance of the stain. You can feel the exhaustion in your bones, the ginger’s actions of the night catching up already. Nodding, you can’t even bring yourself to say anything. She’s humming, prompting you. “I-I know a lot ab-bout you.” Voice hoarse, stuttering and falling over syllables, you try your hardest to listen to her.

She laughs, it’s silent but shakes her chest as she leans heavily against you. Tapping the barrel of the gun against your cheek, “Right my precious little fan. You know all about me. Well don’t worry darling, all that precious information stored in your brain will come in handy.” The widow shoves you forward, pulling and pushing your body as she flips you onto you back.

Natasha settles comfortably between your legs, swinging the fun around her pointer finger as she coos over you. She sits back and observes you, head tilting as you squirm below her. Running your thumb along your dripping slit, she can’t help but admire the string of wetness that catches and dangles as she pulls away.

You try to shake your head, no matter her experience you didn’t want to shamelessly gamble your life for a night with the spy. She just giggles, like a schoolgirl. “All you have to do is tell me what you know about me, lyubov'. That’s all. I know that pretty little head is filled with who I am and all the little facts you know about me, so this should be simple. Say a fact and you’re safe, and get played with. Say something false, and I pull the trigger. Who knows though, maybe you’ll enjoy that too.” She looks so innocent as she talks down to you, but you can’t focus on her tone right now.

Chest heaving, you watch her with wide eyes as the previously forgotten fear reignites as the older woman precariously plays with the gun. A sadistic grin stretches her face, pulling her cheeks just a bit too much. “Dontcha wanna play with me, detka?” Tapping the bottom of the grip on your lower belly, Natasha smirks. Your head is shaking vigorously, pathetic whimpers tumbling from your mouth. Your fist swings out again, a pitiful attempt at hitting the ginger one last time. Struggling as your hand hits that invisible wall again, she just slowly lowers it down to the bed. “Too bad you don’t have a choice.”

Her calloused thumb swipes at your throbbing clit, smiling as your hips jump trying to chase after the spark of pleasure. She shushes you, smoothing her hand across your lower belly. Her gaze flickers up to watch your reactions, jade peaking through lashes as she taps the muzzle against your puffy red cunt. Natasha makes a noise, your only chance at a warning before she’s shoving the barrel of her gun into you. Watching you stretch, raw and red, around the cold smooth metal she has to bite her lip to suppress her own reactions.

The moan that tumbles from your lips is involuntary, and the sounds only get worse as she forcibly ruts her beloved weapon into you. “First fact, princess.” When you just wither beneath her, too focused on your own arousal, she cocks the gun. The click ringing out, a stark contrast to your mewls. “Don’t keep me waiting, dove. It’s rude and my patience wears thin.”

You stutter through the first couple facts, all things the public knows of. The most common facts that cannot be disputable; her alias, her training and community upbringing, and her status within the government as an Avenger. It wasn’t until she rubs your clit, dragging the wetness across your skin, that your mind swirls again. Broken gasps you mumble out, “You killed the overseer of the Red Room”.

The ginger laughs, a short gleeful thing, as she shakes her head. “Poor baby, your head is already so foggy and the game has just begun.” You hear the menacing sound of the gun click, stalling, as she pulls the trigger for the first time. Even as the fear rings through your skull, sinking into your bones, you can’t help but the wetness that drips out of you and the way you clench around the slowly warming steel. A breathy please falls from your lips, and you aren’t exactly sure what you’re pleading for.

A second wrong fact tumbles from your lips, jumbled and almost incomprehensible, as you beg the widow for mercy. Nothing you say deters her, even as you correct your previous statement. You knew that she didn’t go to kill Tony, just to see if he was dying but in your haze you said the wrong thing. Apologies and sobs wracking your body as you try to take back your mistake, but she’s pulling the trigger before you can stop her. Your hands are gripping your wrist but your fingers won’t move no matter how much you try to claw at her skin, a measly attempt to pry her away from you.

Natasha shoves the barrel roughly into you, a piercing pain shoots through your body as she mumbles for you to continue. Her eyes trained at your body, it’s almost like this is mindless for her not even breaking a sweat. It’s almost like she’s angry at the fact that the bullet and chamber have yet to align. “You w-wear the arr-ow for Cl-lint.” Stuttered though true, your fact makes her chuckle. The green eyed woman just thrusts into you harder, dragging you closer to the edge.

Through hooded eyes you watch her, eyes flickering back and forth between the way her bicep tenses and how the vein in her neck pulses. Distracted you stutter on your next fact, “Y-y um dance um ta–”. Even though you never finish your sentence, the sight of the gun rubbing against the most sensitive part inside of you, the assassin knows you were going to mess up. The longer she’s moving inside you, the harder you find talking and thinking. It terrifies you how much you like the feeling of the steel inside you, how you drip around the cylinder.

The coil in your stomach cracks when you hear the widow cock the gun, body twitching when she pulls the trigger again. She has you dangling over the edge, almost like you were on a string. Dragging her nails down your thigh, leaving bright red streaks and a burning sensation. Her actions are almost teasing, toying with you as you squirm and moan under her.

Natasha’s voice is soft, almost comforting, as she stares down at you. Her eyes almost soft, nurturing, as she fucks her gun into your sore cunt. “Such a desperate little whore, I can barely move my gun from how tight you are.” Reaching up to cup your breast, she pinches your hardened nipple ruthlessly. Tugging at it until your back arches, trying to relieve some of the pain.

It’s a spreading warmth, stinging, as the redness explodes across the goosebump covered swell. Your brain can’t keep up, swirls of pain and arousal clouding all your thoughts. “Give me another one, now.” Hissing, her voice strikes in your bones. A shiver running down your spine as you try to keep your orgasm at bay. A small part of you still wanted to be defiant, to try and fight in the only way you can. You knew you couldn’t physically do anything to hurt her, but you could take hits at her ego.

The longer you delay the inevitable, whimpers and whines filling the air as you focus solely on the pleasure, the angrier the ginger gets. She’s jamming the gun harder into you, her muscles flexing with each push. Forcing your breath and your heart beat to stutter, jumping along with the force of her ruts. “Play my game, you worthless whore. Play or I’ll play without you.” Wrapping her hand around your throat, she hovers over you.

Her weight is almost completely on your neck as she looks down at you. You babble panickedly, wheezing as you try to fight for your life. Unsure of the words you even say, you thrash violently at the clicking of the gun. Legs flailing, kicking helplessly at air, as your body goes into full fight or flight mode. Throat raw as you scream, the shrill sound cut short as Natasha slams you down.

“No matter how much you fight, princess, you can’t deny the way you're teetering. Barely clinging to the edge. You’re not going to last much longer, so why must you fight me?” Clenching, each word she speaks to you wears the rope you’re hanging from thin and dropping you farther and farther over the edge. She pulls the trigger again, pulling the hammer down immediately to pull the trigger once more. “Looks like you only have one more chance, little dove.”

Your entire body is shaking, and you can barely understand a word she says. The overwhelming weight of the barrel inside of you is the only thing you can focus on, the pull of the smooth metal as it thrusts. It’s no longer cool, your temperature heating it up. Whining you try to get her to understand your frustration, the way she’s clouding your judgment and stripping you of your ability to coherently speak.

It doesn’t matter anymore as the rope falls apart and you slip over the edge. She struggles to keep the barrel inside of you, the force of your orgasm not only shaking your entire body but the gush of wetness escaping you is even stronger. The way she moves doesn’t slow, if anything she puts her entire body into how she jams the firearm into you. Her fingers grip your jaw, clawing until your mouth falls open. Your moans are garbled, drool and spit filling your mouth unable to escape except for a few drops leaking down your flushed cheek.

The ginger pulls the gun from your leaking cunt, pulling your body to let your center lay flush against her thigh. Your hips are grinding before she can even demand you to move, chasing the high that you’re on. Natasha leans back, rolling her eyes as she watches you hump her leg. “You’re fucking disgusting.” Wiping her gun along your torso, your slick is cool against your heated skin. You’re entirely too lost in your pleasure, heavy eyes blurry as they try to watch the woman above you.

It’s the exact moment that your body finally settles, muscles gently vibrating with the aftershocks of your waning orgasm, that you see the widow’s arms move quickly. Cocking the gun you can see up the sight just for a moment, before she pulls the trigger. The bullet is loud as it pierces the mattress next to your head, fluff and fabric exploding. It makes the blood in your veins run cold and the high you were on plummet back down to Earth.

Fuzzy brain, clearing slowly, you stare wide eyed up at Natasha. “Y-You were actually going to shoot me?” You can’t stop stuttering, gasping, as you realize how close to death you truly were. The shaking is back with a vengeance, almost like your entire body is plugged in. This entire time you believed that it was all just a game, a thing for the Avenger to scare you with so that you would be more open to having sex with her.

The Avenger smiles, cupping your cheek and smoothing her thumb over the flush she finds there. She licks the cooling metal, humming at the taste she finds there before letting the gun fall heavy on the sheets. “And yet, my darling, your body is still shaking and aching for my touch.” When your hips try to move against her body, she shakes head. “Nuh uh, you’re done for the day. I can’t push you too much.” She’s shifting to sit next to your collapsed body, ignoring the pathetic whimpering falling uncontrollably from your mouth.

You are struggling to breathe properly, heavy pants filling the air as the two of you sit silently on the bed. She’s gently pushing your matted hair away from your sweaty forehead, and wiping away the stream of tears you weren’t even aware you were crying. Natasha lets all the emotions that you are feeling to be let out, the entire thing overwhelming you but she doesn’t want you to completely shut down after just one play session.

The quiet doesn’t last long, the widow pushing your body to sit up. Your entire body feels weak, unstable, as you sway in your spot. She’s the only grounding factor you have in the moment, and you hate how pitiful you seem. Natasha is trying to get you to move faster, shoving at you, urging you to move faster so that she can strip the bed. You try to tell her that you can’t feel your body, that everything is just too much, but it doesn’t matter and you can see the seething anger.

Looking down at you, her hand is fisted in the sheets where she’s trying to clean up. “Stop being a worthless bitch, and move out of my way.” Her free hand tangles in your hair, throwing you off the bed. You lay, crumpled in a ball, at her feet. Not daring to move as she rips the bedding from the mattress. “I’m trying to clean up after you, and you can’t even be considerate enough to move out of the way.”

Her angry words cut deep, but she’s reaching out to you and scooping you up. It’s soft and gentle as she carries you to the bathroom. The ginger spends an immense amount of time cooing over you as she gets the water warm. Rubbing your sore muscles and softly detangling your hair, kissing all over your face each time she tugs a bit too harshly.

You basically swoon as you stand in the steaming shower, Natasha gently washing your body. Her hands running along your body makes your mind swim, quiet moans under your breath each time she randomly teases you. Leaning up against the cold tile wall as you watch her get shampoo, getting ready to wash your hair, you have to keep a grip on the shelf to keep standing. Your legs are sore and still shaky, even your body still feels weak.

When the ginger turns around to wash your hair, she sees you leaning heavily against the wall with your eyes closed. Tying to take a few deep breaths, she tries to calm down but she can’t help the searing anger. Dropping the glob of shampoo in her hand she grips your chin, and spins your body around. It’s all too quick and the slick floor makes you slip entirely too easily. You can’t even understand what she’s hissing into your ear, bitter and heated.

She’s shoving your face into the stream of water, uncaring as you choke and thrash about. Her voice, whispering directly into your ear, makes you freeze as it sinks into your bones. “Such a dumb little girl, how would you ever survive without me? Hmmm?” You aren’t sure how long you’re swallowing and gagging on water, spilling over your lips. You had given up, ready to let your lungs fill with water when she shoves you against the wall. “I don’t want to hurt you, dorogoya. I really don’t but someone has to keep you in your place. Don’t they?” She chuckles, low and heavy, when she sees you mindlessly nod.

You can feel your body being thrown around, limp, as she moves you where she wants you. Brain struggling to do anything but answer the older woman whenever she asks you a question, it’s almost as if whatever she did to you put you into autopilot.

Sinking into the warm dry sheets, you finally feel your body relaxing when she sets you in bed. Curled up in her arms, you listen to her heartbeat and her humming as you try to fall asleep. The ginger even sings to you, a Russian lullaby, to try and help you fall asleep. Nothing helps and maybe it’s the suppressed fear that lies deep within your gut, but you can tell just by how her breathing changes that it’s starting to anger her.

The hand that was once running along your back, a soothing motion, wraps tightly around your throat as she shoves you into the bed. Her body, once again, is looming over you. The forest green eyes are dark, almost a midnight black, as she stares down at you. Her grip on your throat tightens, and a sadistic smile stretches across her face. Your vision is blurry and the moment you try to claw at her arm, she catches both your hands in one. Pinning them above your head, her entire weight is leaning on your wrists and throat. “Poor baby can’t fall asleep?” A mockingly sweet noise falls from her pursed lips. “Well don’t you worry, I’m here to always make sure you can sleep. Even if you can’t do the most simple of things for yourself, I’ll be here to make it all better.”

You’re panicking as your lungs scream for oxygen, and black starts to border your already foggy vision. “I mean think about it, even with your stupid little brain you must realize that no one else will want to deal with you. No one else will love you the way I do.” She’s smiling at you, even as her fingers tighten around your throat. The pressure is crushing your windpipe, and you’re slipping into unconsciousness as you’re forced to just look up at the ginger. “I’ll make you better. I’ll mold you into my perfect little dove. I’ll keep you around and then you won’t be useless anymore, doesn’t that sound perfect?”

She forces your head to just barely nod, and she gives you a gentle kiss on your forehead as she watches your eyes flutter closed. “Goodnight my love, sleep tight. I’ll fight off any nightmares that dare interrupt your sleep.”

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