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slashingdisneypasta · 2 years

Note

For the fic sentence thing, I thought of these sentences for different characters (you don't have to do all of them of course, I wanted to give you a choice and also not flood your inbox more than I already have 😅 I hope that's ok. Though if it isn't, you can just ignore this)

Norman Nordstrom

He found it amusing when you, gently, ordered him to sit down while you made tonight's dinner, as if he hadn't been living on his own and caring for himself all these years.

Freddy Krueger

You were just walking down the halls of the very familiar boiler room, an amused smile on your face as you felt the air behind you shift erratically, right where you knew that Freddy was 'sneaking' behind you.

Jennifer Check

"Are you sure I need all this?" You asked as your friend added more cosmetics to the shopping basket, "I don't wear makeup that often anyway... Wait, are you using this as an excuse to shop for your own makeup?"

Inkubus

You did find him pleasant company, really! Even if he did look at you... That way... But it's not like he was anything more than a charming- albeit way too smooth- guy you knew.

Slenderman:

"You stress yourself too much." You state- not in a playful tone that would imply you had other things in mind, but a genuinely concerned and slightly frustrated tone, "C'mon, let's get a cup of tea, or take a walk through your forest. You love your forest!"

Chick Hicks (Human)

"Wow, your car is pretty impressive." You commented with a smirk, before leaning against the front of the car foxily, "Do you use it for just the races, or can you make use of it on your downtime too~?"

Randall (monster or human, you decide)

'Really? He has to bother me on my lunch break too?' You thought while rolling your eyes once Randall approached you.

Psycho Weasel (human or toon, you decide)

Everytime without fail, whenever his friends managed to 'bring' you here, those crazy eyes of his would follow your form no matter where you went.

Cruella De Vil

She stopped dead in her tracks when she heard that song- the only successful song Anita's spouse had managed to write, that was about her- and you singing along with it on the radio.

Ok I better stop here. Holy moly, it was harder than I thought to configure 1 sentence for a whole narrative XD

But anyways, even if you don't write these (which is totally fine!) I hope you at least got a kick out of these sentences ^^

These are great sentences XDD Much better then the ones I added!! 🤣🤣🤣 Thank you so much, these are fantastic prompts to work with!! I did them all- because- I couldn't resist XD

Also most of these exceed the sentence limit by one or two 😅Sorryy...

As if he hadn't been living on his own and caring for himself all these years. With Norman Nordstrom

He found it amusing when you, gently, ordered him to sit down while you made tonight's dinner, as if he hadn't been living on his own and caring for himself all these years.

So he did not sit down, he instead followed your footsteps into the kitchen- so silently, apparently, that you did not hear him. You jumped under his touch when he found you at the stove, and wrapped his arms around your middle; Tucking his chin over the top of one of and watching unseeingly, silently, over one of your shoulders.

You quickly relax under Norman's familiar, strong touch though, and feel the warm and fuzzies envelope you just like his arms that you know perfectly well could hurt you so easily- but instead make you feel safe. With a gentle smile, you just continue to cook the steaks and the broccoli, listening to the sizzling sounds with him and relaxing against his warm body until they're good and cooked, and you turn your head to whisper to him how its done and he can wait at the table if he wants.

"No," he just says, gruffly, turning stubbornly to collect plates and cutlery for the both of you. "Not leaving."

Right where you knew Freddy was 'sneaking' behind you. With Freddy Krueger

What is he doing??? you ask yourself, exasperated and bemused at your doofus' antics and almost tempted to ignore him- he's been hiding from you for hours, only giving you a sense that he's near every now and then to keep you on your toes as you wander the maze of a boiler room... just like this. You shouldn't turn around- you shouldn't play right into his hands- his games... but god damn it, you cant help it!!

"Fredd- oh for fucks sake, get your burnt ass outta the shadows, I am not gonna fall for this again you toothpick-fingered, melted-cheese-face looking- "You're just building up to call him a bitch, when you turn back in the direction you were walking again and come face to face with the smug, smirking bitch. It takes your breath away, surprised at the sudden appearance. "- Oh."

"Yeah,... oh."

Wait, are you using this as an excuse to shop for your own makeup? With Jennifer Check

"Needy, am I using this as an excuse to shop for my own makeup?" Jennifer asks, not even paying a whole lot of attention to your concerns, even as she picks up your hand and draws a cute little heart on it with a tube of tester lipstick.

Needy, the one pushing the trolley, gives a tight smile, a tired sigh, and a blunt nod to you as you stand there with your hand stuck in Jennifer's grip.. "Yeah, she is."

"... oh you bitch- You do not get to share our curly fries when we hit the food court."

Even if he did look at you... That way... With Inkubus

You did find him pleasant company, really! Even if he did look at you... That way... But it's not like he was anything more than a charming- albeit way too smooth- guy you knew.

... right?, you think, looking hopefully at the little adorable koi fish in the pond you're kneeling next to; awaiting guidance from them. "I mean- I'm too busy for a guy," You whisper this part out loud followed by a very nervous chuckle, sprinkling a few food pellets to the fish as offerings. "So... I can just ignore this- him- cant I?? Surely... "

Feeling crazy, talking to koi, you give a frustrated sigh and lay down in the grass beneath you by the pond; Closing your eyes and trying to clear your mind of thoughts... about him... him... aghhh!

Little do you know, of course, Inkubus is there right then, with you- leaning against the side of a tree just out of sight, and thinking how abominably adorable you are... thinking you could ignore him.

C'mon, let's get a cup of tea, or take a walk through your forest. with Slenderman

"I don't have time for a cup of tea," he snaps back, the tentacles on his back practically flying they flick around so much; The irritation clear in his body language. "I have some teenagers to kill."

"You wont kill Jeff and Liu... they're too valuable as manual labour- you need them."

"Oh no I don't- I have you."

The way your jaw absolutely drops, at that, causes Slender to stop his flicking for a moment - if only a moment, - and release a sound somewhere akin to a low, staticky, inhuman chuckle.

Foxily. With Chick Hicks This is a prequal to his section in This Smexcerpts post.

"I can use this whenever I want! Why, baby?" Chick swaggers up to you, setting his feet on either side of yours so his body is right up against yours and he's looking down at you; a mischievous look on the older racer's face that just matches the twinkle in yours, "Didja have an offer for me?"

You know this is probably not a good idea - Chick Hicks does not have the best reputation, and he seems to act just like how the tabloids show him, unlike the other racer's you've met today, - , that you should just finish flirting with him and leave it at that- let that be the story you tell when you're searching for bragging rights... But his warm body against yours sets you alight and you desperately want this man, now; Any way that he'll have you... take you... use you.

So, flashing a dangerous smirk, you slither your arms up over his chest to link around the nape of his neck, playing with the short, brown hair there. "Hm, no~... Do you have any for me?"

He has to bother me on my lunch break too? With Randall Boggs *Note- This one is linked up to This set of Dark Drabbles. I feel like that may be what you were going for??? I dunno, but there it is, now XDD 😅

'Really? He has to bother me on my lunch break too?' You thought while rolling your eyes once Randall approached you.

Ugh... Pouting, and feeling sick to your stomach now because he's back and he's taking your hand in his as he sits down next to you, and he's so close... you can feel his breath on your face as you huph and lower your lunch; Defeated. "Do we have to do this now?? I really wanted to enjoy this rot dog... "

He gives a chuckle, eyes flickering to the paperwork in front of you that you were gonna do while you ate- like he's entitled to know what you're up to- like you're truly in a relationship with eachother. "Sweetheart this is lunch, this is exactly when I'm gonna get cosy with you- get used to it, and maybe eat when you get home if I really turn you off your lunch... "

Eyes downcast, you cringe in on yourself, away from him. "... I want you to leave me alone, Randall... "

"That's not going to happen, doll, so keep quiet and give me a smile~ "

Those crazy eyes of his would follow your form no matter where you went. With Psycho Weasel

Every time without fail, whenever his friends managed to 'bring' you here, those crazy eyes of his would follow your form no matter where you went.

Greasy disgusted you- he would take great pleasure in being the one to hold you down while one of the others tied you up; With the canvas bag over your head you couldn't really see whoever it was touching you... but Greasy had his calling cards, including wandering hands and groping.

Smartass hurt you ears, yelling at you, and yelling at the others too.

Then Stupid was a real problem- once he got a hold of you, you were not getting away.

Wheezy stank, and if you ever got lung cancer you would blame him, but to be truthful he never really went near you- his problem was staring, those slate grey eyes would make you feel cold just feeling them on you... but still, they were nothing compared to Psycho.

He was the one you worried about, the one that caught your attention; the way he looked at you, but never ever came close to you, was different... you kind of wanted him to come near.

The only successful song Anita's spouse had managed to write, that was about her. With Cruella De Vil

She stopped dead in her tracks when she heard that song- the only successful song Anita's spouse had managed to write, that was about her- and you singing along with it on the radio.

When you turned to look over your shoulder and see Cruella standing in the kitchen doorway, the words to the song die on your tongue- your hands no longer washing dishes. Quickly though you switch that shocked look on your face in with an awkward, yet smug grin; Giving a jaunty little shrug. "Its catchy- and so true."

For a good moment, she just sneers at you; Looking like she's about to snap for your insolence in her own home... then her eyes disappear up into the back of her skull in that cool, intense way you love- quite used to your insolence (Sometimes, its a good thing after all). "Whatever- I'm just too busy to worry about the influence Rufus' dumb little tune might have right now-- Did my package arrive at all, today, or do I need to pay that postal office a visit?"

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golden-----hour · 1 month

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146

8/11/24

I could not decide where to put this writing specifically because of the context of the day. My one goal for right now is to get writing on the computer because I am feeling aimless and bizarre and I am wondering about not being on my phone. I am also having trouble deciding how to spend my downtime because it feels so sacred. Or limited. Because some limited things do not become more valuable, they become worthless, when there is one of them, like the last person of a culture. What is making it difficult to write is how I am checking Grindr every 5 seconds because my want is mobilizing and I feel alone and it drowns the loneliness when something sharper. I do not know. Beautiful thoughts people want to listen to aren't around for me right now. And the lack of organization within what I am writing also feels not worth forgiving. Imagine squandering everything just to be who you are - it doesn't feel like there is anything more laughable. But I will maybe remember some of what has happened to me the last couple of days because I actually have the time to think today.

Last night, I stayed up one whole extra hour so that I could be on Grindr and I was waiting for someone to come to want me but nobody came to want me. I was so frustrated that it was hard to function and even this morning, the first thing I did was check the app to see if anybody had been wanting to me. What is fun about human reasoning is that sometimes you are not loved enough or sometimes you are not hungry and both things can gouge you. Right now, I am making effort to focus on what I am writing because I have decided to turn off my phone for 10 minutes. I felt surprised last night that I could not get anyone to come to see me because I think I am attractive.

Today Ananya and I went to Metuchen Diner with her dad and she explained her current living situation to him. He had initially reacted by saying she hadn't done enough and I told him that he was not listening, even if he thinks he was giving her respect. It was interesting to disagree with him and to observe his miscommunication with her in real time. I felt glad to be there to defend her and that I also provided structure to the conversation itself because Ananya feared that the conversation would go awkward otherwise. I was talking about growing older with your parents and how one must do things despite and for the exhaustion. That motions gives way to more motion, more motion. And that being expert in transition is being God. We all remember as children when we were not tired every single day. Now we are tired every single day. Her dad reminds me of Dad, because of how they are both hardworking and intelligent. I am hoping she finds a way to fix her housing situation because she deserves peace. She loves me so much and I am absolutely saved by that. It makes me the most me I have ever been.

I am also thinking that many if not most of my friendships feel on mute because of the infrastructure adulthood. Noname said that happiness is a lonely road and I might want to finish that sentence. No one got me birthday cards or gifts. This afternoon, I was going through my old things in the basement because I have like 9 boxes and I was finding old birthday and graduation cards. It was making me sad.

While I remember, there are few things I would like to do before I go to sleep tonight and wake up at 6:00am in order to go to Tarrytown for work. I need to pack my suitcase and fold my clothes, get my bags and toiletries together (including the skincare that I forgot) and I want to tidy up my room a little bit. If I gather these things tonight, my morning will be easier.

While I was writing that paragraph, I was feeling upset that I have not been planning more conscious and intelligent writing because while it is useful to journal, to become 'better' requires genuine arbitration, thought, and tact. Writing freestyle reminds me I have a voice but adult writers suck and only listen to beautiful people. Imagine me singing out-of-tune because it is mine and people love me not because I am out-of-tune but because I am me. So this is me announcing that I will be even more radically accepting of myself because I am sitting here typing this what feels to be quite consciously. And that this exists just to silently pay homage to this exact person typing who is unfortunately equally as important as every other infinite iteration.

While I was going through my old things in the basement, I was remarking at all of the random notebooks and worksheets that served such a small, miniscule purpose that I feel inclined to save. I remember other students throwing out whole notebooks and folders at the end of the school year and I just could not understand that for the life of me. I have things about the Ottoman Empire, and your learning style, and the Guidance Award that I won. The senator signed it, or they put the Senator's signature on it.

I was remembering High School. I won a trip to Ecuador and felt huge. I ran the second best Freshman time in Cross Country in my school's history. I was at several School Board Meetings for accolades. I was in the school orchestra and I wrote poetry and have copious notes of writing other languages and thinking at length about the construction of meeting. I was remembering college and saw a Rutgers Honors Program folder and felt glimpses of that long hope you feel at the beginning of something. In reconciling that with the present, I feel resigned and let down by my apparent lack of engagement with Rutgers. I was asked to be in the Honors Program and I do remember how absolutely huge that felt- trying to understand what requirements meant and looked like. I was quite terrified of the Capstone and it was fine. I moved to Spain and came back and it was fine. I am quite stunned and perplexed by the temporality of everything and the extreme amount of experiences that I hold within me. And I wish that more experiences did not devalue the experiencing of newnesses but it just does. This is just mathematics. I remember all of that hope and how arresting it was. I am glad that I am in the after of that because of the hugeness of everything. I had a lot of potential and now I am an expert lover who will be a poet.

It is kind of insane that I write that last sentence as I contemplate going to give some random dude head because of Grindr. I am trying to ask myself not what it means, but what happened. Poets who are adults write poems for each other.

I'm More Alive Than I Am Afraid

"To alchemize atrocious times into poems to help metabolize us..."

"Trying to be a death worker..."

"To be buoyed..."

To Ananya; I'm More Alive Than I Am Afraid

I just decided to write a poem or try to write a poem which is what writing a poem is with the title of the above. It is not that good but at least I did something instead of consume.

This is the third time that I downloaded Grindr in the hour because I am still wanting. Or my wanting wants to want. I am bored of saying that too. At least I know I am very exhausted. I have tried to do anything. Imagine that.

I added this after the original posting but I did want to mention that I saw Murod Saturday morning on Grindr and immediately messaged him and I got his nudes and he told me that I induced anxiety in him and that he was in the mood to bottom and then he drove away from Metuchen (I do not know why he was there) to Philadelphia (which is information that I do not know the reason that I have) and that was that. He said that my body made him horny. That was cool. I do not care about this so much that I only write about it now. I wonder what I could be doing if I did not devote myself to missing the missing.

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telafel · 9 months

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okay I'm back home and my classes just started today so perfect time to procrastinate out the gate with rambling about ACOTAR

Spoilers ahead.

so I went into this book kind of doubtful that I'd like it, but with an open mind of like "hey, I like romance, so maybe this will be some sort of indulgent thing that i like. nothing wrong with that!" sort of vibe.

and I genuinely enjoyed how it started off. You have a protagonist that is working her ass off to defend and provide for her family in a tough time and puts herself in danger just so they can eat and have some money for basic comforts. The family dynamic is strained and messy, and all of them are very understandable, if frustrating. I was like 'yeah! this is interesting!'

Then it kind of goes downhill as soon as the faeries show up. It was cool when it was like big ass bear thing busts in the door and demands and life for a life, but then it immediately tapers off when it's like "oh there's a loophole, come live with me in the faerie lands forever" which could have been an interesting moment if it didn't kind of negate the whole "you killed my friend and I'm enraged over it" entrance. The reveal later about WHY he extends this offer doesn't make this scene any better because like. Why does he make this whole front of scaring her in the first place.

I thought it would be cool if like, the faerie lands were somehow very different and dangerous in certain ways and just inherently weird and off, but no. It's just a rich mansion and the MC gets to live in luxury and her only worry is how her family is surviving without her, which is very quickly brushed away because her Love Interest is just ungodly rich and takes care of them too. There are a few monsters and dangers that show up but they don't have much staying power.

From this point on it's kind of boring tepid "romance" stuff. I never get a strong sense of Feyre as a character. She is in survival mode at first and then isn't but most of her character boils down to like... "I think Tamlin's hot and I like to paint" which isn't very interesting. Tamlin also doesn't come across strongly either. He's just kind of a stoic, aloof guy that protects his realm and protects Feyre from being stupid. Oh and he's essentially stupid rich.

Which reminds me a lot of this section of the book is Feyre being told not to do something, without anything being explained to her- and then she does it anyway and her getting scolded for it.

The romance is bland, I never feel like they're actually interested in each other beyond basic physical attraction, and there is zero worldbuilding besides some basic holiday celebrations and throwing fantasy names of monsters in But They're Faeries Now(tm). All the background is just vague and lacking and the story dump later makes this more annoying.

Oh and also the magic system is incredibly vague and annoying to me. I don't mind a soft magic system but I want some consistency and sense to it. Having Tamlin be like "I can't heal big wounds" but he can shapeshift and still heal stuff regardless... and then have Rhys show up and be able to literally crush minds even when his power is limited like Tamlin's is like. Huh? (Also like. Why does Rhys go through Feyre's mind and not pull out a name? I guess you could argue it's because he wants to depose the evil woman faerie I guess but still. Also how does he get fooled/can't sense a simple glamour, but can easily dispel it????)

So when shit starts hitting the fan there's the expected "I'm sending you away tomorrow, let's fuck tonight" scene with a not very sexy sex scene.. and Feyre goes back to her family who are now also wildly rich and never have to struggle and of course it's not good enough for Feyre because they're normal and mundane humans and not the humans-with-pointy-ears faeries that can just forever live in excess for no reason.

And of course Feyre goes back to the faeries to try to save the day and get berated and info-dumped on about the stupid as fuck Curse. "Oh Tamlin was cursed to lose his power unless he fell in love with a human that killed a faerie and had hate in her heart (because Amarantha's sister fell in love with a human and the human betrayed her so Amarantha wants to mimic this exact same scenario with this curse. No we couldn't talk about her before this moment either, so here is her whole backstory too) and also he's forced to wear a mask covering half his face to make it even harder to fall in love with him because obviously all attraction is just physical and skin-deep, so he was intentionally sending scouts out to try to force the scenario to break his curse, so this whole thing was set up for you to be here and be made to fall in love with him and we were all cursed to not be able to talk about the curse but you, you stupid human, should've picked up on it despite us not really giving you any hints at all and should've told him you loved him, why didn't you, stupid selfish human."

Oh yeah and at no point does she ever question or consider the fact that her being there in the faerie lands was entirely manufactured and her falling in love was manipulated just so Tamlin could break the curse and get his power back. No thoughts, head empty. That's HER high lord and him telling her he loves her is unquestionably true!

We also get info dumped about the antagonist which of course is an evil, spiteful woman that wants Tamlin for herself. And all the other courts have male leaders, so it's extra evil that this silly woman is manipulating them because the womanfolk should be tending to the house and caring for children (not really, but one of the only other female faeries we encounter is a maid at Tamlin's court who is caring for her nephews and the fact that pretty much any other figure in power is a man kind of paints this type of picture to me.)

So Feyre gets captured, of course, and doesn't listen to any of the advice she's given and enters a bargain with the Evil Queen, and this starts the more genuinely interesting sections of the book. I like all these trials she has to go through and how to get through them she has to make some other deals with morally questionable people that are just using her. She has to struggle!!! It's interesting!!!

Anyways, I do find it funny that she's just so motivated to save Tamlin and meanwhile Tamlin is kind of just a stone that does nothing this whole time. Like go girl, give us nothing! She's risking her life for you and you can't even try to sneak away to see her (except of course when he's horny and wants to bang her in a closet right before her final trial which is basically the 3rd month she's busting her ass to try to save him. We love mid men.)

What weird is that I feel like she has more interesting moments and more chemistry with Rhys in this section of the book than she does with Tamlin the rest of it. It's not a very healthy relationship, but it's certainly more interesting. Rhys actually risks his skin to help Feyre, even if it is a bargain that would benefit him.

I did find it funny that at the start of these trials Feyre is given a riddle to solve and if she solves it she and Tamlin will instantly be freed. It's an incredibly obvious riddle if you have any braincells but Feyre unfortunately does not, so she doesn't figure it out until the very last second.

But of course Feyre wins her trials and solves the riddle and the evil powerful woman is nothing compared to the men's power so gets murdered by the strong man folk, but oh no Feyre dies! But don't worry the incredibly vague magic system, and the high lord come to her aid and resurrect her as a high fae herself woohooo.

I was reading this last night in a hotel room with my boyfriend and I flopped my kindle down and went "this is so fucking stupid," and my boyfriend laughed.

The aftermath was kind of interesting. I mean she's getting used to a new body with heightened senses and it seems like it's overstimulating for her and she seems almost distant about the whole thing. But don't worry it doesn't last long. she's with her lover and everything is fine, it's okay now. Also Tamlin has his mask free and is just totally handsome wow who would have guessed.

The start and towards the end of the book are probably the best parts because Feyre actually has to have some struggle, the middle parts she is literally just living in luxury and like, I suppose it's supposed to be her coming out of her shell but it all feels very surface level and like boxes being ticked for Romance Development.

Once Feyre is able to paint that's like an entire cornerstone of her personality and of course she just gets handed a full private studio space to work in. A lot of her internal narration turns into how she wants to paint x and she'll never be able to paint y and like... as someone who is an artist I can kind of understand it. I'll go places and be so amazed by the scenery it will inspire me to want to render it, but in this book is feels so weird and all consuming for the pages she's able to paint.

And Feyre in general is difficult to connect with as I've said, she's shown at the start to have some street smarts, she learns to hunt, she knows how to bargain at the markets, she picks up on gossip and knows people around town. She does not keep these properties because it's like all her sense and braincells leave her. She doesn't think of the consequences of her actions until way after the fact. She straight up is responsible for an entire family + staff getting killed and their estate burned- the daughter tortured and killed in Feyre's place and she doesn't even feel bad until she sees the body of the girl. She doesn't hold that guilt for more than a chapter at most. Her resourcefulness comes into play with one of the trials but yeah.

And of course all the men just want to fuck her for some reason.

Also, there is this incredibly weird vibe through the whole story where people are always referred to as male or female. It's squicks me out A LOT in this whole biological essentialism sense, sprinkled with heteronormativity vibe. It feels like a very cold way to refer to people and has almost this animalistic feeling to things. Like the male will mate with the female, sort of thing. I don't know if I'm conveying the vibe at all. I remember seeing this exact point mentioned by other people and I didn't think much of it, but in context I very much understand it now. There is no reason I can understand why Feyre would have this sort of verbiage when she grew up in a wealthy family and around human beings that largely wouldn't use these terms exclusively for descriptions. (The only reason I could think is that she was hunting, but still, it's a weird choice.)

The core of this story comes down to feeling like the usual escapism romance trope of 'a mid woman gets swept away by a stupidly rich and handsome guy' but with Fantasy set dressings to make it different. It's just bland to me. All the wants and needs are taken care of and it's just boring. The faerie aspects aren't even that expanded on either.

I will give the fact that Tamlin is probably not as creepy as other male love interests, but he still tries to force himself (it's mostly that he pins her to a wall and grinds on her, it's not super egregious as far as male love interests SADLY) on her once and even hurts her by biting her neck. And of course she just finds that hot and goes on to try to rile him up after that. I think that's why I don't like this romance. A lot of it is just physical lust and being horny with only a little bit of emotional connection in spots that feel more forced than natural and organic. I dunno tho.

I am half tempted to read the second book because I did quite enjoy Rhys, I love me some morally dubious men, but I don't think I could put myself through another one of these stories. Maybe I will see if a library has it to borrow so I don't feel bad for spending money on it.

Well maybe the next book I will genuinely like. Hopefully. I'm tired of being disappointed by books.

#tel babbles #tel's book reviews

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tozettastone · 3 years

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Flash writing prompt: Orochimaru as a parent

For Twenty Minute Flash Fic Game.

Orochimaru exhibits a fascinating dichotomy of motivations and emotional attachments when it comes to children in his care, honestly.

CW: Featuring some of those sixty children he had in his care during his time as a jounin of Konoha, and also bad science.

Orochimaru’s project, developing a method of introducing Hashirama cells to live subjects to replicate a long-lost bloodline limit, has seen significant success in studies using smaller, less useful mammals. Almost forty per cent of the time. Well. More than a third survive, anyway. And almost a quarter of those show some efficacy with the bloodline limit.

Regrettably, the usefulness of a rat that can grow trees is highly limited, and Orochimaru finds that their reports are not reliable.

Humans were always the end goal, so he moves on to human children at this time. It’s reasonable to begin human trials. Neonates would be preferable, but his sources suffer… supply-side logistical complexities… that he cannot overcome. So his experimental animals are mostly between the ages of two and five, and they do not arrive in specially-bred batches, certified clean and disease-free like rats.

Orochimaru would like the health of the subjects to be a research ethics problem, because then he could summarily dismiss it as cute but irrelevant.

It isn’t.

He has to be able to ensure a certain degree of uniformity in order to understand the variables in his own experiments, and this does not include entire batches of children affected with obscure childhood illnesses from Marsh Country.

His second batch—twenty all up—all have the same problem. Within a fortnight they’ve developed wet weak coughs, streaming noses and reddened eyes, and a high fever. Their soft childish skins have all come up red and blotchy in a rash.

They aren’t even any quieter than the first lot, but they’re less bratty and more genuinely upset. They aren’t screaming at the bars, but they cry and whimper and softly cough their gross and rattly little coughs.

He’s been their carer for weeks now and they show no fear. Why would they? Their room might be one single open space, barred and sealed, but it’s not the worst place to be: they have child-sized seats and thick-paged picture books and soft toys, they’re fed on time, they can get water at any time. He doesn’t treat the human children any worse than he did the rats.

They all need nests, places to burrow, things to climb, comestible resources. Even him.

Orochimaru is up at all hours playing nursemaid, but even after days of high fevers and diarrhoea and crying, he finds that they are pathetic enough to tug on his heart strings. Some are asleep, but many cannot rest through their ailments. They keep the others up. There’s a lot of crying. Some simply sit and stare, exhausted.

They have such cute little faces, all red and snotty and suffering, with their rounded cheeks and large eyes.

There’s something to that, he thinks, staring at the whimpery mass as it blurs before his weary eyes. Cuteness has some kind of biochemical effect on the human brain. He’s sure of it. Someone should get on that.

Someone with more time than Orochimaru.

Tonight he is once again pacing back and forth with a toddler on his hip, trying to sooth her distressed whimpering while he tries to wrestle with the statistical outputs from the first batch of them—all deceased, of course. The necropsies aren’t promising, and he doesn’t know why, which is its own frustration. He has some thoughts. It requires more investigation, and he will not be able to investigate if half this cohort drops dead.

She sleeps, hot, clammy little face pressed into his collarbone, only while he has her in his arms.

In the end, only about a quarter of them die of the illness—which is still better than they get from treatment in Marsh Country. (But Marsh Country has medics who let children go home with indifferently-skilled carers, and they do not have regimented feeding, watering and lighting schedules or weight-dependent medication dosing.)

He isn’t sure if the rest of them will provide good results for his project anymore. But children are so hard to get—they take forever to grow, and, well, the supply-side problems—that he must risk it anyway.

The next month, he incinerates the bodies, pulls at his hair, and tells Shimura he needs more. Another batch.

How frustrating.

#my fic #flash fic #twenty minute flash fic game #ask #anon #orochimaru #orochimaru being orochimaru #human experimentation #came out to more like 25 minutes tbh #writing

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kallikrein · 3 years

Text

TOKREV 230 THOUGHTS

i’m gonna put it all down before i go to sleep and hope that i get to dream bd founder waka tonight cause why not?? lmfksk so anyway, excuse my grammar ahahaha

THE BLACK DRAGONS FIRST GENERATION EVERYONE <3 they look so, so glorious pls. uniting the whole kanto region with the ‘god of war’ by your side, two former gang leaders finally befriending each other and making them your own attack unit ugh shinichiro is really the goat!!

THE PARALLELS?? i’m sobbing, both baji and takeomi being the dark haired childhood friend to the sano brothers. ngl tho, takeomi looks like baby hakkai hahah

shinichiro seems like a good kid ever since. and he deserved better, damn it. i think it’s so funny that mikey wonders why shinichiro does what he does. cause his dark impulse can’t understand /j

SHUT UP WAKA. SHUT UP. SHUT UP. WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO PRETTY WITH THAT MESSY HAIR AND BIZARRE EARRING ON?? YOU DIDN’T EVEN HOLD BACK LMAO. AND WDYM HE’S WEAK WHEN IT COMES TO WOMEN? SO YOU AREN’T THEN?? HAHHSHSHS

it’s so heartwarming to see benwaka smiling like this. it’s so genuine and tbh, i wanna see more of their interaction with shin <3

i spy with my little eye a thing that starts with the letter b. yep, it’s their lfmkdjs bikes. i wanna see them…driving it. when will it be ken-sensei? i need to see waka riding his bike ehehe. i wonder how takeomi got his scar tho cause in this panel, he still doesn’t have it.

like i said, shinichiro is such a good man. grandpa sano brought him up well. and here we have takeomi having his scar. i’m really curious as to how he got it. was it from a fight with other gangs? or the famous theory that it was sanzu’s doing? hmm

aha! hearts have been broken tonight because of this. takeomi knows his way around women, while shinichiro can’t relate cause he’s … yeah ;-;

SENJU OMG WHAT A BADDIE?!?!?! she knows her own strength, confident enough to proclaim she wanted to take down the invincible mikey. if that doesn’t speak girl boss, idk what else will. such an inspiration!!

THESE TWO MFERS ISTG I’M shaking crying screaming BECAUSE HELLO, GYM OWNERS BENWAKA?? YES GODDAMN PLEASE.

wakasa being a full blonde with a lil tied up hair atop his head plus his nonchalant posture… sir let me be a member in your gym…damn. i swear i will exercise as fuck lmao.

also them training senju. best stepdads for real.

[ i got way past the 10-image limit and i’m really frustrated ]

i really felt takeomi on a different level tho because of tonight’s chapter. being an adult, steering control of your own life is extremely hard. sometimes it’s actually fun like “oh nvm yolo”, but often times it’s really “where am i going with this” hard ahshshs so that scene where the brahman was initially formed, and takeomi swearing to be a better person really spoke out to me lmgksks

but of course he forgot again when brahman became huge. it’s okay. we all make mistakes. we’re just humans after all.

i liked that he remembered his own purpose now. it’s the best feeling ever, and that the people around him (wakasa and benkei) still accepted his weakness even senju, his sister who is much younger than him, does too. she’s already mature for her age, love that for her.

i just wish that senju could take down the titan that is terano south unharmed. also benwaka please be safe, no one is allowed to follow draken’s fate ;-; </3

#[ ☁️ ] — katie talks #tokyo revengers spoilers #tokyo revengers sano shinichiro #tokyo revengers akashi takeomi #tokyo revengers kawaragi senju #tokyo revengers akashi senju #tokyo revengers arashi keizo #tokyo revengers benkei #tokyo revengers imaushi wakasa

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sneezefiction · 4 years

Text

soft nekoma sleepover

Nekoma x Reader - Sleepover Headcanons

a/n: the Nekoma portion of my soft sleepover series :,,) my friends and i have had rough weeks so far and i thought this would be a sweeter way to cope <33

warnings: none!

wc: 1280

---

you’ve always been such a strong person

whether you’d had a rough week full of assignments and exams or there was tension with your family/friends, you would always manage to hold your head up high and push through it all with a convincing smile on your face

but this past week finally pushed you over your limits

as you walked into Nekoma’s volleyball practice that Friday afternoon, manager’s clipboard in hand, you tried to keep up your usual peppy expression on

...but the smile refuses to reach your eyes

Yaku greets you warmly, expecting a big grin and a soft hug from you, but all you could do was ruffle his hair and walk quickly to your seat, holding in tears of frustration

this threw him for a loop and Yaku definitely asks you what’s wrong and if Lev did anything to upset you because, and i quote,

“I will fight him right here, right now. Just say the word.”

you just shake your head and stand up to give him a quick, wordless hug, which only leaves him more confused?? because he wants to fix this and you’re being really quiet??

Kenma then notices your gloomy presence and mentions it to Kuroo who’s eyes snapped your way quizzically

you were clearly upset and, if they weren’t completely mistaken, you looked like you’d been… crying?

Kuroo wasn’t having it at all bc you, of all people, deserve to be happy & smiling

he calls the boys in for a huddle but Kuroo asks you to wait on the bench with that trademark sneaky smile on his face

as they all converse, you see heads pop up and turn around to glance at you, Lev and Yamamoto’s concerned expressions making it obvious that you were the topic of conversation

it became clear that, even without words, your misery hadn’t escaped them… you couldn’t decide whether it was a blessing or a curse

“Alright!” Kuroo’s volume gains your attention

everyone turns to you and you feel as though you’re shrinking under their gazes

“We have a proposition for you, Y/n…” Kenma explains quietly

“More like a demand, but whatever you say Kenma.” Kuroo cuts in, with a slight drawl

“How about you come over to my place tonight? We’ve not had a team sleepover since our last training camp and none of us are busy tonight.” the quiet setter finishes

Kenma sounds reluctant, his eyes shifting from the floor to the wall, avoiding your gaze as much as possible

yet one glance over to you reminds him why he’s offering up his precious Friday night

a real smile graces your previously downcast face, which makes all the boys go silent in awe of what a simple sleepover suggestion could do

now cut to Kenma’s house where he has two consoles of Mario Kart already set up bc it’s the only game that everyone on the team knows how to play

you get there last, much to your own dismay, because you had hoped to feel more settled before interacting with all of the boys again

just before you walked in, Inuoka made sure that everyone was smiling, welcoming, and that there’d be no fights (@ Yaku)

and the team agreed that tonight was all about you: their precious manager who really needed some encouragement and fun in their life

the moment you set foot inside, you’re met with cheery faces, bowls of popcorn, “cards against humanity” on the table, and a spot on the sofa (that you have to assume is meant just for you)

everybody looks SO DAMN COMFY:

Kai, Kuroo, Lev and Fukunaga are in name brand sweatpants and soft t-shirts, Shibayama, Inuoka, and Yaku are in clean workout shorts, Kenma is in a trendy sweatshirt and the rest of him is covered by a weighted blanket, and Yamamoto & Teshiro are in their volleyball uniforms from earlier (ew)

you get a quick nod and a brief smile from Kenma (basically Kenma was never meant to be a Professional Host™), but the rest of the boys are ✨Beaming✨ as you look them over

and your heart swells because this is exactly what you needed. to be in the presence of these sweet, granted kinda sweaty, guys where there were no goals or deadlines to be met

Kuroo’s grin quickly catches your eye and he pats the open couch seat next to him

and conversations take off smoothly and sweetly, the airspace full of friendly taunts, crude jokes, and screams from Lev’s being hit by 3 blue shells in a single game of Mario Kart

after several hours of you beating their asses with Princess Peach on Rainbow Road, everyone ends up splayed out across each other for the sake of comfort

your head found its way to Kuroo’s lap (the two of you being both third years, classmates, and close friends) and his hands move to give you a much needed scalp massage

you feel the weight of the world melt off your shoulders. it’s like one night was all you needed to clear your head and at least help you back onto your feet

with your legs dangling off the arm of the couch, Kuroo’s hand now just gently stroking your arm, you decide to thank them for tonight as best you could, because you’ve not felt this happy in what seems like months

“I just want to let you kids know that you’re all the best.” you cut through everyone’s conversations, voice resting on their ears for a moment

“And, uh, not to be disgustingly cheesy… but I really love you guys.”

you cover your eyes, acting as though you were embarrassed, but in reality you feel tears threatening to spill out

Kuroo’s expression falls for a moment, because he’s not stupid and can tell you’re still processing everything

so he simply lifts your hands off of your eyes and you, with a perfect tear skimming the side of your face, can’t help but let out a soft, relieved laugh

it’s silent for a second, but Kuroo just smiles & opens his mouth to say something

but he’s interrupted by some rude-ass kids (Yamamoto & Inuoka) shouting out their love for you and rushing over to smother you in tearful hugs

you’re saved by Yaku, who’s grabbed them both by the backs of their shirts, stopping them in their emotional, hug-giving tracks

but your giggles continue, now laughing at all their surprised expressions and Kuroo’s peeved one from getting cut-off

so you hop up off the couch, place your hands on your hips and allow their eyes to rest on you before swinging your arms open wide with the sweetest, most genuine smile you can muster

“Well, are y’all gonna come hug me, or should I just go now?”

queue a small stampede of boys tackling you (gently) to the floor, laughter bubbling from every mouth, and warmth that spreads from the outside, in

in between the chuckles, shoves, and “get off of me’s” you hear a phrase tumble out of Kenma’s mouth

“We love you too, y/n.”

it was supposed to be unheard, lost in the tumbling around you, but those three words then took traction in individual ways with different boys

“We love you!”

“I love ya.”

“You’re kinda okay, I guess...”

“Marry me, y/n!”

“Shut up, Yamamoto!”

you would always have a place with them, no matter how bad things got and no matter what anyone said about you

because whenever you needed them, they’d be sure to show up, just as you’d do for them

---

soft team sleepover series

soft shiratorizawa sleepover

soft karasuno sleepover

soft seijoh sleepover

soft fukurodani sleepover

---

tags: @cherryonigiri, @yams046, @miss-rin, @shou-kunn, @senkuwu-chan, @super-noya, @stcrryskies, @holaaaf, @sugacookiies, @vintgicals, @moonlightaangel, @kit-tea, @theworldupthere, @sugasugawarau, @star-puff, @akaashisupremacy

(comment, dm, or send an ask to be added to my general tag list - blogs in bold could not be tagged)

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Just Another One

Sequel to: ‘A Little Bit Of Honesty’

Corpse Husband x Actress!Reader (Female)

Warnings: Angst, Heartbreak, Mention of bad past relationships, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Romance, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: They keep proving each other right in the most wrong ways possible. They each want to be guarded even if that means the other will be hurt. Maybe that’s what they want - to hurt one another because they’ve already hurt each other once before.

Requested by the lovely readers who enjoyed the previous fic ‘A Little Bit Of Honesty’. Sorry for the large time gap between the posting of the two fics but I still hope you guys will take the time to read it and if so I hope you enjoy it! Love you all with all my heart, Vy ❤

When you go out of your way to avoid leaving the house your options of entertainment are severely limited and you can’t blame anyone or anything but yourself for it. Today, I wouldn’t have gone out of my apartment even if I was one of those people who frequent the outdoors seeing as how the sky is trying to flood the Earth with all this nonstop rain. It does set a mood for a perfect night in but when you spend all your nights in doing the same thing over and over again, the atmosphere is practically meaningless. And so I ‘ve decided to resort to channel surfing as though I’ll find something interesting on TV that I haven’t yet seen on one of my social media timelines.

I pass several cooking channels on my journey, making a mental note of their individual numbers in case I don’t stumble across anything capable of better distracting me from my boredom and loneliness that’s slowly starting to creep in. I pass by a few movie channels showing teenage romcoms as if to celebrate the start of summer so you can imagine how quickly I moved on from those. Then come the celebrity channels which can often get a laugh out of me because of how pathetic and unbelievably ridiculous they are. And so, I stick around one where there’s a broadcast on a movie showing that’s happening tonight in LA. Oddly enough, despite my anxiety, going to a movie showing has always been on my list of things I’d want to do. This can be considered living vicariously or rubbing salt into the wound that I’ll probably never go because my anxiety and fear of being recognized is too severe. Either way I stick around to watch it.

And man do I regret it now looking at several different angels of a couple of actors entering the venue where they are to be photographed and asked questions by the mob of paparazzi that’s gathered due to the massive event. That in and of itself doesn’t sound - and really isn’t - so bad. However, it’s important to note that the actress in this duo is Y/N. Y/N L/N. My Y/N....shit, sorry, I mean my FRIEND Y/N, her arm linked with whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is who is holding an umbrella above the both of them, shielding them from the downpour of rain that is also taking place in LA apparently.

“The two were seen entering the venue earlier this evening, looking particularly cozy in each other’s presence if I do say so myself. The rain probably worked nicely in their favor.“ The first reporter says, her teasing tone of voice sending chills of anger down my spine as I glare at the screen, hands balled in fists, jaw clenched - all my body’s instinctive reactions to what is being shown to me. I know I technically have no right to behave or feel this way, in fact I should be fucking happy for Y/N and her successful career and the progress in her love life. But damn it how can I?! I was so damn close to kissing this girl! I was so fucking close to falling in another trap, tripping and landing in the embrace of another liar and user, another girl who switches partners more often than shoes. How could I’ve been so reckless to get so close to her even platonically? How did we become close enough for me to 1) show her my face; 2) start inviting her over to my apartment regularly; and how didn’t I notice the kind of messed up person she was all that time.

She was all sweet and flirting and shit a week or so ago and now she’s doing the exact same thing with him! The cameras are capturing them perfectly: every laugh, every exchange of a knowing look or nod, ever smack to his arm when he tells a joke. But what bothers me most is the many times he’s wrapped his arm around her to pull her closer. Not just for pictures, but just because the fucker felt like it! And Y/N doesn’t seem to mind it at all.

“They have been the talk of the town recently, so while they could just be adding fuel to the fire, they could also have been caught by the flame and ‘caught feelings’ as they say. Regardless these two are a view we’d like to see more often.“ The other reporter says and that’s the final straw.

In one swift motion I turn the TV off and throw the remote across the room. It hits the wall and falls to the ground in several pieces, broken by the force of the impact. Just like I am broken by the force of the impact of these news. I don’t know which is worse: the fact that I fell for her and almost let her know it; the fact that she’s just another member of the club I don’t want anywhere near my life; or the fact that I can’t believe it.

Yeah that’s right - one foolish part of me refuses to believe that’s she’d do such a thing. I think that’s the same part which is still in awe of her so you can bet I ignore that part the majority of the time.

She is just another one. Not the one. Having been hurt before doesn’t mean she won’t hurt me or anyone else she’s gonna be with. Hurt people hurt people.

And damn has she hurt me, probably without knowing a damn thing. How selfish can you be, Y/N? How selfish can you really get? And how much am I going to allow you to hurt me?

* * *

“Thank you so much, Andrew. I would’ve died on the spot of anxiety if I was on my own.“ I say to my best friend who is currently sitting next to me on a park bench, in a tux, eating a cheeseburger. I too am still in my gown and am also gorging on a cheeseburger of my own.

“Don’t mention it. Us anxious people need to stick together.“ He bumps his shoulder against mine, stealing a small genuine smile from me, “Plus I couldn’t not come with you. You know how much I like a good rumor.“

I scoff, “Of course you do, but then again there was no need to add to what the media has already made a whole-ass ship out of.” I roll my eyes and take another bite. My appetite hasn’t been in its best condition so I’m only eating this under Andrew’s orders. I have no idea how people can ship us romantically, he’s the definition of an older - and very bossy - brother to me. I wish I could tell each and every single one of those girls who hate me because I’ve ‘stolen their man’ that I’d most likely be their sister in law rather than man snatcher, seeing as how my relationship with Andrew is so sibling-like.

That’s because we’re too alike, no one gets that. People play the ‘opposites attract’ car more often than I consider rational. But then again when they see a couple like Andrew and I - who are basically the same person in different bodies - they suddenly think we’re super compatible. Trust me, we’re not. And everyone who’s been on set with us will tell you the same.

“What can I say...“ he shrugs, smirking at me, “I like the fun. I bet Becca doesn’t though.“

I can’t help but huff. Andrew is the only one I’ve ever openly expressed my frustrations with Rebecca to. He was super helpful on the subject, seeing as how he can relate - many partners of his have tried to use him, some of which even succeeded. He’s more than qualified to school me on the topic but it turned more into sharing bad experiences. One of which was that instance back at Corpse’s apartment.

“And neither does Corpse I suppose.“ As though he’s read my mind, he pokes the hurt spot, pouring salt in the wound causing me to visibly cringe as though the pain was physical - because it was, I felt it in my chest and in my gut, a sharp stab of guilt and regret.

Why did I let it come to that? Why did I let us get so close? How did I not think of the consequences?

“I don’t care if he does or doesn’t.“ My hand automatically reaches for the pocket of the jeans I’m not even wearing in search of a cigarette. Not that I’d be able to light one even if I had them on me - Andrew would smack it out of my hand before I could even take a single puff.

He has the audacity to laugh, “You’re such a bad liar, Y/N.”

That’s all he needs to say really - that’s enough to make me feel seen and understood. Though that’s not always a good thing. I often times wish he couldn’t read me so well. Better said: I wish I didn’t let myself be so readable, you know. I’m just glad he’s the one who sees me because if it were anyone else they’d use this vulnerability of mine against me. I’m well aware that it’s a weakness, a really inconvenient one, but damn it I can’t get rid of it. I feel like I’ll be less human if I lose it. Everyone’s allowed to be vulnerable, some just are lucky enough to choose who they’ll be vulnerable around. I’m lucky enough to to have a choice, not so lucky in the people I choose to trust. Guess that’s not a luck thing, it’s just my inability to decipher whether a person is worth all the pain and torture of coming clean to them or not. So far many people have burnt me but two stick out in particular - Becca and Corpse. Corpse especially, which is the odd thing considering he hasn’t even wronged me in any way. At least not yet.

“Your phone’s vibrating.“ Andrew says, pulling me out of my overflowing head when he hands me my phone which I handed to him because of my dress’ lack of pockets.

“Thanks.“ I mutter through a sigh as I take it from him, checking the notification I’ve gotten.

My stomach drops: it’s a message from Corpse.

“Hey I saw you are in LA but we have a stream tomorrow, will you still be participating?“

Before I can reply, he sends me another message.

“I know you’re probably very busy but we get the most viewership on the streams when you’re in them so....“

I’ve probably been staring at my phone screen for longer than I thought since Andrew felt the need to make sure I was still breathing: “Hey, you ok? You look terribly pale.” I can barely hear him let alone reply. I can’t hear my own thoughts to know what to reply to him. “Y/N, you’re scaring me.”

I’m scaring myself too, Andrew. I’m scared too. I’m scared of how broken my picker has become. I almost kissed this guy! I almost entrusted all my thoughts, hopes, wishes and goals to him! What the fuck was I thinking?! Well, at least I know what he was thinking about - viewership. Likes, subs, views, publicity. The more eyes on the stream the better for him and everyone else. I genuinely want to applaud him, no one has been so direct about using me before. I was in a relationship with Becca for almost a year before I accidentally found out what she had been doing the whole time. No one’s ever smacked me in the face with this much honesty. It’s bittersweet really.

I want to laugh, I want to cry, slap myself across the face, slap him...I want to do so much, but all I can do now is sit in silence and think of how I could be so stupid.

He’s just another one, how did I not see that? How do I never see it until it’s too late? Why is one part of me still screaming: ‘He didn’t mean it like that!’

AND WHY THE FUCK DO I WANT TO BELIEVE IT?

@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @o-kaelin @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @lolalee24 @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @darkacademic2 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @namikhai-i @nastiablr @thelittleplantlover @mirktuan @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny @vintagegothlover @easygoingtheatre @itsrandombooklover @miiaivi @emmybaybee @befourgolden @jjk-is-my-shit @eternalteaaars @spacebadgerx @princesslunalight @acequinn14 @samm48 @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa @fo-love @marishimomura-blog @therealglenncoco @cinnamonbun332 @killtherandomness @sanshinexxxsan @fee-btheweeb @press-lay @cathleenpotgieter16 @jazzydoesstuff @moonlxghtbay @forestrain2000 @hyunjinhugs @blood-of-fandoms @lovellylies @ukiyolixx @simpforhpcharacters @chrisdylan17 @parkerjisung @pedernille @theodonyous @wineandionysus @malfoystilinskii05 @morbid-x @coryisagee @jessewa26 @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365 @raeanneinwonderland @indecisive-empanada @gluttonypalace @loriane2503 @btsiguess-kpop @khaoticbunny @lucidlycactus @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @kpopgirlbtssvt @fangirl-tc27 @fr0z3n-1 @notmesimpingfortechno @shotarosleftpinky @kunoi-chan @idk-whats-wrong-with-me @yikeroonie @goldenstarofthunderclan @poetry-and-tea @ama-do-writing-stuff @wishbonewolf @emeraldxhope @t0xick1tty @kusuinko @speakyourselfloveyourself @sophia902103 @lo-manburg @classsykittykat @dmgama @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee @btsiguess-kpop @akaashi-baby @gun-jong-simp @geschichtenfee @yerapotato-wp @browneyedgirl365 @thysagclub @sparklycloudnight @helloatomicshadow @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal @lucy-bunny17 @aaliyahh0 @katluckybear @boyleanti @straybids @franchesca-791 @cosmicstorm19 @averyisbackinthetrashcan @aomi-nabi @xlanawriter @allensimpsforcorpse @sunnyrae-cessh @ladykxxx08 @meowiemari @renupf @booklover76 @sra-verissimo

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lovee-infected · 4 years

Note

May I please request headcanons of the octavinelle trio + Idia finding out their S/o is self conscious of their body?

Oh dear, all it takes is a simple contract and he can change your figure to whatever you could've wished for and this time, he would do that for an genuinely affordable price; a contract which you can actually live up to. Anything for his darling. If that what you'd wish for he would spare no effort in pleasing his beloved's needs, but there seems to be something wrong with this...,Why would you even want a change?

Your anxiety on its own gives him thoughts, mainly because that reminds him of himself. As a child he's been bullied because of his chubby figure, so he does get what it feels to dislike something about your body, but he sees no reason for you to feel the same as he did, to him you're just fine, you don't need anything.

He wonders if he's done something wrong about it because he's told you that you're beautiful and he loves you many times, but since he's gone through the same self-consciousness experiences he understands that you don't really have a word in that matter, sometimes it's hard to accept yourself as you are.

He lets you know that if you're looking for a change, he'd respect your choice and tries his best on giving you what you want, as said it's no more than a simple contract with him; he's capable of way greater things that you can't even imagine. Doesn't matter you decide on doing it or not because he's still here to tell you that you're beautiful everyday.

Even as it may be hard to gain confidence over your body Azul wants you to know to see that he'd love you nonetheless, no matter how you look or what you wear, he loves you and it's all that matters. He has falle in love with you, all of you, that's all it takes for him to love your appearance and body as well.

To be honest, it lowkey surprises him to know that you're self-conscious of your body. To him, you've got a pretty strong and well-developed personality which he appreciates, and your body on the other hand wasn't ever a matter either. He isn't one to judge though, perhaps surface standards are pretty different from underwater ones; but to him at least your shape is just fine, adding your wonderful attitude and unique personality to it, you're an absolutely gorgeous being.

Humans can't be quite self critical, can't they? Well in that case he shall lead you to being more acceptive toward your body.

If he needs you to believe that your body is beautiful, first he's got to speak these words on their own. Sometimes just hearing it by words can be quite effective.

He gently comes to hug you from behind whenever you're starting at yourself in the mirror, gently holding you by waist and lowering his head to put it on your shoulder: "My my, aren't you just beautiful?" he whispers. He mostly phrases you when you're looking at the mirror, judging your body and wondering if it looks good or not for the hundredth time. You've got questions and Jade's there to answer: Yes, you are beautiful. Doesn't matter how many times he's got to repeat the same thing, as long as he can see a sight of relief in your face whenever he tells you how lovely you look he's satisfied.

His attempts aren't limited to words and regular phrasing, showing that he admires your body in action as well is just as important. Oh man, he's greatly aware of your tastes and your size, he definitely knows what clothes you'd not only like but also feel comfortable in. He wants them to be neither too loose nor too tight, just your own regular size. He gently hands you the clothes he's bought you, puts on an dreamy smile and softly asks you: "My dear, I'm sure that these would look amazing on you. Would you mind wearing them for me tonight?"

Just like Jade, he isn't one into judging body shapes or having an specific preference over them, he's more into attitude and personality rather than physical appearance and beauty. He loves you because he enjoys hanging out with you, he never seems to get bored or tired while you're around and and in general, he adores your personality and just the way you are.

It's true that physical beauty isn't one of his top priorities but he still thinks that you look pretty fine. He doesn't see anything wrong with your appearance and he finds you really cute.

If you're having trouble liking your own shape he should keep you away from anything that may cause you to think about it. In case that it helps you to slowly get over it getting your mind off the anxiety seems to be the best choice.

People around you, even your friends better not comment on your body, otherwise they're going to regret it. Floyd would literally get rid of anything (or anyone) that may humiliate or make you feel insecure.

He is mostly focusing on indirectly telling you that your body is okay, more like making you believe it on your own instead of him having to force the belief on you.

Floyd isn't afraid of complimenting in public at all; he confidently phrases you and tells his classmates how adorable he thinks you look today, sometimes giving them a chance to agree with him on it as well: "Don't ya'll agree that (y/n) looks so beautiful today? Not like they don't always do though~" It will make you blush so hard but showing this kind of affection publicly is also a clear sign that he is proud of you and the way you look. Having people agree with him too is a way to show that he isn't the only one admiring you as you already are, it makes you feel accepted and loved.

Giving you the mental support you deserve so you won't need to question yourself or anyone else over the way you look too much, but when you need to talk about your frustration with someone, he's there to listen. It's okay to sometimes dislike something about yourself but you should know that it doesn't hold you back from being wanted and appreciated. Doesn't matter if there are people whom you believe have better figures than you cause there is no comparison on it; they are them and you are you, when it comes to worth, you can be compared to no one but yourself. At some point, he's just surprised at how you can't see your own worth like he does, you shouldn't let your body blind you on it: "You know... you're a lot more than your body,"

'But... you're already perfect as you are..?'

Idia isn't one to randomly admire anyone or to praise them, but he does really mean it when he says you couldn't be any better that you already are, you're sweet, kind, supporting and beautiful; he couldn't have asked for a greater darling.

It really breaks his heart to know that you feel bad about your body, just what might've put the thought in your head? Has anyone said something rude? Anyways you should realize that there's nothing wrong with your body and you're already gorgeous and lovely as you are.

He isn't the best with words yet he tries his hardest, it's usually easier to motivate you during the enormous amount of lovemails he sends you everyday, but in reality he needs to come up with more of creative ways.

He wants to show you that there's no need to feel embarrassed or shy because of your body, you should know that you're loved just as you are, no need to be changed. If words aren't strong enough to prove his point, he goes for the second plan. He starts taking pictures of you, especially your full body pictures.

Doesn't matter whether you're on school uniform or just chilling on your T-shirt and baggy pants, he just says that he loves to save your pose whatever it is. His favorites are the ones with you wearing hoodie for fun, damn only if you knew how cute you looked whenever you put them on, it left his face all red and flustered as if he was looking at a kitten playing with his clothes.

He creates a separate section in his gallery just to save your pics which somehow embarrasses you, but he's strong on his point. He sits beside you as he scrolls through that special section he has for you, showing your pics and madly giggling over how lovely you look in each and every of them. No matter how much you beg at him to delete them he's going to keep them all. See this isn't his fault, it's all on you for being overly cute and adorable. He would directly show that he loves all of you as you already are, and there's nothing that can ever change his mind over this. He loves you, deal with it.

#Twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #Octavinelle #Azul Ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #Floyd Leech #floyd leech x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #disney twisted wonderland

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 4 years

Text

Hypothetically,

Ao3, MasterPost

Relationships: Romantic Intrulogical, Platonic Logince

It is about! Damn! Time! That I wrote some Intrulogical! Also, y’all already know my stance on platonic logince,,,, guys they ARE best friends i’m sorry I don’t make the rules.

Warnings: Angst (with a happy ending). mentions of stuff like autopsies and nuclear explosions in the context of like experiments- they do stuff in The Imagination, basically. Panic attack (?). Hurt/comfort. Pretty heated kissing; It’s more intense makin’ out than I usually write but it isn’t anything explicit at all, don’t worry! ADHD Remus and Autistic Logan. Cursing- like So Much Cursing. Mentions of space, deep sea, etc. Food mention.

Word count: 6,769

There was a conundrum.

A., Logan needed to use the Imagination. B., He could not use it on his own, considering that he was Logic. C., Roman was nowhere to be found. The answer to what was frustrating Logan at that moment would be all of the above.

To be clear, he didn’t like going into the Imagination. It was simply the only suitable place to perform his ‘experiments’. His very necessary, very distracting experiments. But, as stated, Roman was God-knows-where doing God-knows-what.

Logan sighed at the door, as though it was the inanimate structure’s fault. The cracks gleamed obnoxiously bright, golden light pouring out from behind the door in a somewhat eerie manner. It was a nonsensical, unrealistic, completely insignificant place, and he wanted in.

Logan was contemplating asking Janus for help (lies took imagination, right?) when, out of nowhere, an arm was thrown around his shoulders. Literally an arm, disembodied and oozing sick-smelling blood onto the carpet. Ah. Wonderful.

“Hello, Remus,” he pulled the appendage from around him, holding it at arm’s length (no pun intended, dammit).

“Hi!” Remus took his arm back and reattached it with a disturbing crunch, a grin stretching his face. He sidled up to Logan, imitating the side’s stance in front of the door.

“Can I help you with something?” the logical trait tilted his shoulder away from where Remus had pressed against him.

“Not unless you’re willing to get really messy- but I can help you!”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re implying.”

The Duke rolled his eyes, promptly flinging the door to The Imagination open. An encompassing energy radiated into the common room, corrupting the usual neutrality of the space. It didn't last long before Remus grabbed Logan’s wrist and dragged him along through the entryway, movements as sporadic and fast-paced as everything else about the creative.

“It’s not very logical to just stand there staring at the door all day, in my opinion. I dunno what you need Imagination for, but whatever it is, I can help! My half is much more interesting, anyway.”

“Oh,” Logan blinked, narrowly ducking his head under a branch as he was pulled forward, “Thank you, I suppose.”

He politely didn’t mention that he doubted Remus’ capacity for helpfulness. Beggars can’t be choosers, after all.

The door from the commons was quite a walk from the darker half of The Imagination, but at the pace its owner had them going they were there in minutes. The border was marked with tangles of densely thorned shrubbery, which parted for them, as if they sensed the approach. Logan just barely avoided snagging his shoe on one as they passed.

There was forest, twisted and shadowy, for only a minute. After that, they were in a city, with tall buildings and winding streets and dark alleys. Another switch, they came into what seemed like an amusement park. Nothing was consistent in theme, and none of the scenes held up for more than a minute or two. Remus shook his head and tisked. With a snap, a good portion of the ever-changing scenery was erased, leaving blank white space. The Duke turned to look at Logan with a satisfied smile.

“Ta-da! What do you need?”

Logan blanched for a moment, surprised at Remus’ willingness to completely delete Imaginings without a second thought. It usually took Roman ages to find a spot that he was okay with giving up on for Logan’s “projects”- which he always had thought was a little silly, seeing as he could bring it back when they were done. The change of pace was a pleasant one, though, so there was no need to dawdle for long.

“I need a miniature fully-functioning model of our solar system. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Oh, totally,” Remus waved his hand and the request appeared suspended in the air, spread out to be the size of a dining table. All was accounted for- sun, moons, eight planets plus pluto- orbiting and spinning around each other. Imagination, by nature, had no real limits, but the detail was still a sight to behold every time. Logic smiled, surveying the set-up, before gesturing to the edge of their blank section.

“Thank you for the help, you may go.”

“May I now?” Remus conjured a seat for himself, staring at Logan with his chin resting on his hands, “You’re not even going to tell me what this is for? That’s just rude.”

Logan glanced up from the tiny earth he was inspecting, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

“You are welcome to stay, if you wish, but your brother usually leaves at this point. He says my experiments are-” he summons his notebook, “‘Bore-ifying’, which I assume is a portmanteau for ‘boring’ and ‘horrifying’.”

“Roman’s a big baby!”

Logan shrugged, not disagreeing, and resumed his careful observation of the tiny model earth. Remus made no move to go, wheeling his chair even closer. The scientific side carried on before his new audience of one, hovering a hand over the little planet. Abruptly, it stopped spinning. Logan made a gesture with his hand that magnified the model significantly.

The results were immediately catastrophic. Logan jotted a few observations down in his notebook, watching closely at the ways torrents of wind ripped up trees and buildings. In the back of his mind, he was faintly impressed by just how well-rendered ‘Dark’ Creativity’s earth was, down to the individual humans, brutalized by the storms.

“Whoah, what the fuck?!”

Logan looked up briefly to see Remus craning his head over the destruction of the stilled planet. His eyes were wide and bright with curiosity.

“Oh- I should probably explain. I come here, usually, to run some improbable scenarios as a sort of stress-reliever. Specifically, this one is what would happen if earth stopped spinning on its axis. As you can see, due to the earth no longer rotating at its usual speed, the wind would continue on at-” he cut himself off abruptly, sensing the beginnings of a ramble, “I’m sorry, I’ve been told that I have a tendency to ‘go off’ when a subject particularly interests me.”

Remus rolled his chair even closer, looking much like an excited animal (more so than usual, anyway).

“Well then, go off! Don’t leave me hanging! Is that really what would happen, just if it stopped?” He gestured enthusiastically to the way that the oceans had begun to crash against and consume shorelines. He looked interested- genuinely interested.

Logan bit back a smile. He didn’t have to be told twice.

It was one of those particularly restless nights. For no foreseeable goddamn reason, Logic’s mind had become alight with enough half-formed thoughts and barely sensible ideas to fill a very, very weird book. The Imagination did wonders when he got like this, but it usually wasn’t two in the morning when he needed to use it. That wasn’t to say the circumstance was unheard of, but all times prior he could push the urge to investigate away with the reasoning that he could just ask Roman in the morning, and that the Creative side needed his ‘beauty sleep’, as he called it. There wasn’t anything he could do about that, was there?

Tonight was different. Logan could hear the occasional snap or tear or cackle from the room across from his. Remus’ room.

It had been less than a week since The Duke let him use the darker half of the Mindpalace, and that was pretty much the only meaningful interaction they’d had in as many days. They weren’t close, Logan wasn’t even sure if they were friends (not that he was a good judge of that, given the first time Roman referred to them as ‘besties’ he had all but cried), but Remus was at the very least an option. He was also unlikely to mind, given that he was already awake and had exhibited excitement previously.

Logan made up his mind after yet again failing to fall asleep. Quietly, he opened his door and took the few short steps across the hall, raising his fist. Remus’ door was open before his second knock.

“Oh, hey! What are you doing, coming knocking at this hour?” he didn’t even try to whisper, accompanying his statement with an over-exaggerated wink. Logan didn’t waste his time trying to shush the side.

“Good evening, I hope I’m not interrupting anything-”

“You know I don’t mind your ‘interruptions’, Twunk-y Megamind!”

“-But I was wondering if you would… Help me, again. I seem to be having a hard time getting to sleep, and I think that getting out some of my ideas could help.”

Remus’ face lit up dramatically.

“Oh hell yes! Are we gonna blow up more planets?”

“Something like that,” he kept his voice monotone, disguising the relief and hint of pride at such a positive reaction.

“Well, come on!”

Logan let himself be dragged into Remus’ room, barely having time to make note of the surprisingly organized layout before he was pulled through a sleek black door.

“But you have to tell me about it,” he ordered, twisting them through narrow paths in his half of The Imagination. Logan suppressed a smile.

“If you want to hear it, then I’m happy to.”

Without warning, they stopped the breakneck pace that Remus moved at. The trait seemed appeased with their surroundings, though as far as Logan could tell it was just another piece of ever-shifting ominous landscape.

Remus snapped his fingers. The scene remained intact.

“Sorry,” he glanced around nervously, “Things get stuck in my head sometimes. Can’t get ‘em out. I’ll get it, I just-”

“It’s no trouble.”

Logan rolled up his sleeves. He didn’t like using his ‘abilities’ much, as every side had some set of special skills, and all of them were much too ostentatious. But they were helpful, at times. He waved a hand, gesturing carefully so that he didn’t dismantle any more of The Imagination than was absolutely necessary. With a small stutter, the landscape shifted to a blank slate.

When he looked back up, Remus’ expression was not unlike that of a Cheshire cat.

“What was that?”

“I am Logic, therefore it follows that I am the antithesis to any Imagination creations. It’s very easy to erase them with just a bit of rationality.”

“No clue what a lot of those words meant, but it’s still cool that you can destroy shit.”

Laughing was unbecoming, to say the least, and so the logical trait tended to avoid it at all costs. The snort that escaped him was entirely involuntary.

If Remus noticed the noise, he said nothing about it. He was too busy bouncing from foot to foot, expectantly waiting for instructions. Logan cleared his throat of the outburst and clapped his hands together.

“Alright, let’s start with something simple…”

At his request, Remus would construct immaculately detailed creatures, settings, and models, watching gleefully at the ordeals Logan put each one through. They tested various and progressively elaborate ways to sink populated cruise liners, they simulated the effects of falling from the Empire State Building, dissected approximations of obscure marine animals (a shared special interest of theirs, apparently), and any of the other unrealistic questions that occurred to the typically rational Logic.

The only way to get such questions from his mind, he’d found out a long time ago, was deconstructing them one step at a time, to see them in their full ridiculousness.

It was also, he was coming to realize, incredibly fun.

Before the two knew it, the already late hour had turned unreasonable. Logan blinked owlishly at his watch, distracted from the tiny supernova that he’d created.

“Oh, I must have lost track of time,” four in the morning. Four in the morning!

“Aw, does that mean we’re done?” Remus whined, yet he still began unmaking his small star system.

Logan was suddenly very aware of the heaviness of his eyelids and a rubbery feeling in his limbs. God, was he tired.

“I’m afraid so. I really should’ve gone to sleep hours ago.”

“Fine,” Remus dragged the word out with a groan, “But let me know next time you wanna fuck with space, or deep sea stuff, or anything like that.”

Next time.

As much as Logan adored Roman, there was something very nice about having the more grim brother help him out with these experiments. For one, his creations were often much more accurate to the real world- likely because gore and destruction were that much more impactful when they were realistic. For two, he actually seemed to enjoy the work.

Logan’s deliberation was brief.

“I will.”

As it happened, the night spent delving into dozens of ideas had purged Logan’s need to use The Imagination, for the time being. Clearly, Remus was not patient enough to wait for him.

He popped up, unannounced, in Logic’s room.

“Lo!!!”

The trait in question fell out of his office chair in a very undignified way. Not that there’s a particularly dignified way to fall out of a chair, but if there was, this definitely wouldn’t have been it. He ‘ate shit’, as the saying goes.

Out of pure embarrassment, Logan made no move to get off the floor.

“Hello, Remus,” he greeted, “How may I help you?”

The Duke laughed raucously, sprawling into the now-unoccupied chair and leaning over him.

“You’re a riot, Dork,” then, added with glittering eyes, “Did you break anything?”

“No. Given that I am metaphysical, I’m not sure that I have bones.”

“I have bones!”

“Are they your bones?”

“They are bones and they are in my possession, yes.”

Logan let the subject drop and repeated his first question.

“Right, I forgot! I have an idea for an experiment!”

Logan thought that, despite his mild humiliation, it would probably benefit the conversation if he wasn’t lying on the ground, so he stopped doing that. Brushing mostly imaginary dust from his clothes, he shot Remus a bemused look.

“That’s nice. But I was asking you why you were here.”

The Duke’s face fell, almost imperceptibly.

“I thought you’d wanna know, because of what you said last time. Isn’t this, like, a thing we do now? You know how shit works, and I know how to make that shit, and then you can tell me about it!”

Oh.

“Remember when you were talking about radiation the other day? You can’t just say stuff like that and then not expect me to want to try it out, so really this is on you. It’d be dumb not to let you in on it.”

Oh.

He’d been listening to that rant? Moreover, he’d remembered it, and now had his own ideas and follow-up questions about it?

Logan felt light-headed.

“You’re probably too busy with work, huh? I guess my explosions don't have to be accurate, if you’re set on being boring,” Remus’ tone was nonchalant, but he was obviously lingering for attention. Logan then remembered that words are a thing, and people use them to communicate.

“No! I mean, yes- I mean, I’m not busy. I can join you, I- I’d like to, even,” the intelligent side heard a small voice in his head, his own miniature Virgil, screaming- what the fuck was that, get it together, Jesus, because he, despite what his fellow sides insisted, was absolutely nonfunctional when trying to form a friendship.

Remus didn’t seem to notice or care much past his own cheer.

“Cool!” he, yet again, wasted no time in seizing Logan’s arm and yanking him away, “I wanted to see what would happen to animals and plants and stuff bunches of years after lots of radiation! Do you think they’d mutate? Get all twisted and fucked up so that they aren’t even recognizable as, say, a dog?”

Logan considered the question as he was led through the Mindpalace.

“Well, nothing would be able to live there at all. Additionally, anything within a little under a mile of the nuclear fallout- depending on a few variables- would be completely incinerated upon impact.”

“Like, flesh-melting incinerated?”

“More like vaporized. The fireball would burn 10,000 times the heat of the sun.”

Remus went starry eyed, bringing them to a halt a mere five feet from the door.

“I wanna see that,” he waved his hands around at their surroundings, “Can you do the white-out thing?”

Logan, much less hesitant than last time, obliged. A small smile escaped him at the wondrous look on The Duke’s face. It was another form of expression he didn’t particularly care for, but containing his emoting was more trouble than it was worth by now. He couldn’t find it in him to care much either, for once.

“Where do we start?” Remus prompted.

“You tell me. I will help you make it as accurate as possible, and provide any insight that you want, but it is your idea,” and he wanted to hear more about those ideas. Odd and violent, mesmerizing and clever. There was so much that he wanted to hear about, to talk about, to puzzle out together.

Logan couldn’t remember the last time he’d had someone to share such interests with. Maybe, despite how deeply he cared for his ‘family’, as Patton called them- maybe it was never.

Remus chattered as he worked, disrupting the train of thought. Logan almost tuned it out- after all, everyone had grown perfectly used to The Duke’s rambling- but he caught himself. That was hardly how he should treat the side that was so strangely considerate to him, wasn’t it?

Logan listened from then on. He began to add on to the conversation, corrections and elaborations and actual questions, because he actually didn’t know some of it. He didn’t regret the choice.

By the end, Remus and Logan were sitting together in the smoldering ruins of their make-believe test town, exchanging notes for different variables they could use in the next trial. They only stopped when Logan was abruptly summoned away by Thomas. He excused himself, a bit apologetic, promising to visit again soon.

As he helped Thomas (with what really should have been a simple task, honestly), Logic wondered briefly about the origins of the hollow feeling that grew in his chest. Something distracted, longing, and unfamiliar.

And then the oven caught fire, and the only thing he felt was annoyance with the man that he was somehow a component of.

So, that was that- Logan and Remus were friends, now spent regular time together, and shared interests. By all accounts, it was a simple and obviously positive development.

But then there was Roman.

“What’s wrong with my work? You’d really prefer whatever edgy 12-year-old DeviantArt account nonsense that he thinks up?”

Logan set his book down with a sigh and looked over to his doorway, where Roman stood with his hands on his hips.

“Come in, Roman, and thank you for knocking,” he snarked. The Creative side made a vaguely sassy noise, trotting right in and flopping backwards onto the bed. Without closing the door, the monster.

“I thought that building your Weird Science contraptions was our thing.”

Logan made a show of standing up and manually shutting his door before responding.

“You don’t like my ‘contraptions’, as you call them.”

“Yeah, but I still made them for you! Because we’re friends, but I suppose you’ve forgotten all about that!”

He really should have expected the melodrama. And yet, Logan had lived in a delusional world where he didn’t care about the most Extra being on earth.

With an eye roll, Logic dropped down beside Roman on the bed- though he wasn’t half as flamboyant about it.

“I can have more than one friend.”

“Yeah, but I’m supposed to be your favorite! We’re supposed to hang out together! Do the friendship bracelets I made mean nothing to you?”

He flung his arm across Logan’s chest, a ‘friendship bracelet’ clearly visible on his wrist (a loose usage of the term, given that it was a solid gold band with inlaid sapphires, because of course it was).

Logan held up his arm as well, showing that his (silver with inlaid rubies) was still very much in use, despite his distaste for jewelry.

“We hang out plenty. It wasn’t my intention to hurt your feelings by spending time with your brother. My reason for doing so is that he seems to take active enjoyment in building and learning about these things with me. He also makes very good conversation, in regards to the more, ah, eccentric experiments.”

Roman tossed his head to the side to watch Logan with narrowed eyes. After a pause, he linked their arms at the elbow.

“Yeah, you would think that. You’re secretly just as much of a weirdo as him.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Oh please, I can barely keep up with a word that either of you say,” Roman headbutted Logan’s shoulder in what was likely another of his odd displays of affection. He let his head rest there for a minute, a rare instance of peace before he inevitably resumed talking.

“Anyways-”

“Anyway,” Logan corrected.

“Anyways, if you nerds wanna talk about your weird, creepy experiments, then I guess that’s fine. But he isn’t allowed to co-opt anything else that we do together that we both actually like- no making fun of movies together, no Crofters jams, and no poetry-slash-rap battles.”

“Of course not, Roman. You will always be my favorite person to disagree with.”

“Love you, too,” Creativity bumped him again, then sat up to stretch. Logan snorted a laugh and considered shoving Roman off the bed, watching as he raised his arms up and straightened his back. Before the trait had the chance, unfortunately, his friend was already standing.

“Leaving already? Weren’t you just going on about spending time together?”

“Nah, that was all I wanted to yell at you about for now. I’ve gotta go help Pat with dinner.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you.”

“Thanks, I won’t.”

“I hate you.”

“Ditto.”

Halfway out the door, Roman threw a glance over his shoulder.

“Oh, and whatever you two end up doing, do not give me the details. Please.”

Okay, finally, that really was that. Friendship established, blessings given, the end. A simple symbiosis.

Logan was thinking about the practical uses of medieval torture devices? Remus. He wanted to see exactly how long it would take your average healthy adult to succumb to drowning? Remus. Logan wanted to just rant, about anything and everything, his brain moving a mile a minute? Remus. They spent an inordinate amount of time together.

Occasionally, when he didn’t even have the energy to converse, he would sit down with a book in the commons when he knew Remus was there and let the trait’s never ending word-vomit wash over him. It was an odd sort of intimacy, but that fit within the theme of their dynamic. Like he said, simple symbiosis.

And that was when the not-very-platonic fondness grew. And Logan, to his own surprise, allowed it to.

After deep consideration he had seen no reason not to; Remus wouldn’t judge him, not ever. It put a name to the hollow longing that occurred whenever he, eventually, had to get back to work and part from their talks.

He hadn’t sorted out what to do about the feeling yet, but he felt no urgency.

Logan’s book lay forgotten in his lap, that morning being one of the quiet ones as he reflected on his unfamiliar emotions. It was almost nice, letting such affection curl up in his chest and settle there.

His contemplation was broken by a sharp jab to his shoulder.

“Are you listening to me?”

He tilted his head at Remus.

“Sorry, I got distracted.”

“What were you thinking about?” his eyes lit up, very obviously hoping for it to be something disgusting. Logan glanced away, given that he didn’t even like eye-contact in the best of circumstances.

“Nothing important. You have my attention now.”

Remus rolled his eyes with a huff, apparently genuinely irritated.

“Well now I forgot what I was saying.”

“Let’s backtrack: what were you talking about before?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s fine, we can talk about something else.”

The irritation had grown to something unrecognizable to Logan- frustrating, given how closely he tried to study body language. He felt a stab of guilt as Remus stood up from his spot.

“It probably didn’t matter. I’m gonna go annoy Janus.”

“Oh,” Logan’s voice was small, “Alright, then.”

He was already gone.

That was… concerning. Not to mention bewildering; Remus didn’t just pass up opportunities to talk! He didn’t just leave, not even when he wasn’t wanted! Logan really hadn’t thought his zoning out would earn such a reaction.

But he was far from perceptive about emotional problems. There was no way to know if it was anything to throw a fit over. For all he knew, it was just an off-day. He couldn’t always expect his friend to be rambunctious and energetic, even if that was a big part of his personality.

The issue would likely resolve itself.

The issue did not do that. It did the polar opposite, speeding from mildly concerning to downright frightening at a whiplash-inducing pace.

Remus barely asked questions and almost never offered insight, as he usually did when they spent time together. In fact, his contributions had become rare and unenthusiastic enough that he could have passed as neurotypical, however disturbing the thought was. And that was when they did end up spending time together, which was becoming less and less often, much to the dismay of one significantly smitten smart side.

Something was very clearly wrong with Remus. Not the demented, destructive, mildly endearing and unhinged sort of wrong. It was the wrong sort of wrong.

Logan was hesitant to confront him outright. After a couple weeks of careful consideration, a more subtle solution occurred to him, as he idly flipped through a very graphic murder-mystery late into the night. Something bloody, and awful, and very much Remus’ taste. He set the novel down, knowing full well that his friend would be wide awake as he made his way across the hall.

“Remus?” he knocked at the side’s door, wearing a smile much wider than he usually liked. He was more than willing to express exuberance, if there was even the slightest chance that it would be infectious.

The door decidedly did not fly open. Rather, after a good deal of wrapping at it, Remus slowly pulled it back and poked his head out.

“Oh. Hey.”

Logan didn't dwell on the concern that reaction brought. He had something that would cheer Creativity up, of that he was sure.

“I have a test tonight- it’s going to be very messy,” he began, searching the impulsive trait’s eyes for any signs of interest. There was the slightest glint, but not much more.

“So, you want me to make stuff for you?” His speech was monotonous.

“Yes, that was the idea. It’s going to be gory.”

Hardly a reaction. All Remus did was open the door the rest of the way to allow Logan inside. Clearly, he had underestimated just how poorly his friend felt.

“Alright, I’ll set it up for you. Just don’t take too long, I was actually hoping to use my part of the Mindscape today.”

Logan nodded, very taken aback. He couldn’t ignore the slight hurt at the cold, dismissive tone (the irony of that wasn’t lost on him).

They stepped foot into The Imagination and immediately Remus stopped, destroying whatever had been in front of them- which was usually fine, it was just how he operated, but normally out of enthusiasm, not apathy. Maybe this was more than could be fixed with some blood and guts.

“What do you need?”

Logan conjured a tiny notebook, giving a tentative smile. Still, he was giving this plan a shot.

“Operating table,” one appeared before him, sleek metal with rolly legs, “A standard set of surgical tools,” he looked up to gauge Remus’ interest, but his expression still hadn’t changed as he continued to create, “A human corpse, and then we can get started.”

With a wave, a perfectly generic body fell onto the table, but Logan’s attention remained on The Duke.

“Great, have fun, let me know when you’re finished.”

Logan faltered, watching him turn to leave.

“You- you aren’t going to stay and do this with me?”

“You want me to?” Remus crossed his arms over his chest and fixed Logan with a gaze that could (figuratively) wilt flowers.

“I- Yes? If you aren’t at all interested right now, then I can save this experiment for another day?” Yeah, this wasn’t working, but Logan had no backup.

“No, no, don’t wait for me, you’ve already got everything you need, right?”

“I mean- technically, yes, but it- it wouldn’t be the same.”

Remus cackled, sounding quite like the cartoonish villain that he often acted as. It hurt to listen to.

“So that’s what this is about! Let me just fix you up, then!”

He snapped, and a blank humanoid form appeared at his side. It tilted its faceless head curiously at Logan, who recoiled.

“Not good enough? Is a hunk of nothing too unrealistic for you?” he snapped again, and the being suddenly transformed to match its creator exactly.

Nearly exactly: it wore an enthusiastic grin, eyes wide and sparkling, rather than the steadily building fire that raged in real-Remus’ eyes. It spoke in a disgustingly cheery tone.

“Wow, tell me more! Show me that again? What happens when you do that? You’re just so interesting, Lo!”

Remus watched the creation, a look of one part pride and a million parts resentment.

“Is that what you want? It’s just like me, but without any of the hassle of being another person that you have to deal with! And this one, you really can get rid of whenever you want, isn’t that great?”

Logan looked between the two, a fearful understanding creeping up his spine. There was something he was missing here, wasn’t there?

“No,” he muttered, half to the fake-Duke and half to the real one.

“No?” Remus spat, circling his mirror, “No, of course, you’re so right. This isn’t nearly enough.”

He made an elaborate gesture, and about a dozen more Creativities appeared, surrounding them. Logan stumbled back from them, nearly tripping on the operating table that they’d previously made. When he looked up, the real Remus was approaching him with an expression that fought its way between guilt and indignation. It was all at once heart-wrenching and frightening.

Logan tried to right himself, tried to look unaffected and certain of himself, as he raised his voice. He would not let this go a step farther, despite his confusion.

“Stop,” and with that, a wave rocked across The Imagination, and all was erased. In the aftermath he stood before a teary-eyed Remus (just the one, though), uncharacteristically looking like a stiff wind would knock him right over.

“What’s wrong? I gave you what you wanted!”

Logan reeled.

“Why would you think I wanted any of that?”

“You wanted an experiment, I gave you one! You wanted a willing audience, I gave you twelve! But I guess I just get everything wrong, right?”

“You know that isn’t true,” Logan felt choked, his words clumsy. It was foreign and horrible and disgusting, but he’d trudge through it all if it meant fixing whatever he’d done wrong. It couldn’t have just been him losing focus once? Could it?

“Oh, of course, I do just enough to be useful. So I’ve got that right; I’m a good utensil. Is it so much to ask that people would care about me, not just what I can do?” he posed a rhetorical oozing with vitriol, but it quickly evaporated into something much more desperate, “What if it’s my fault? It was my idea, I wanted to help. I don’t know why I thought you’d care past all that, did I give you a reason to? I can’t remember. It might make more sense that way, if I were the problem, wouldn’t it?”

Logan was running out of time to fix this, watching Remus curl in on himself, barely keeping from falling to the floor. He had no clue how The Duke had reached the conclusion that he didn’t care about him! They spent nearly all their free time together: sitting next to each other just to have the company, throwing each other tricky and often troubling questions to answer, constantly toiling away at things in The Imagination. Sometimes, they didn’t even need to talk, they just worked together in rapt silence; Remus did the creating and Logan arranged his work just so, and- Wait. Wait. Wait.

Logan didn’t need to talk, or touch, for that matter. Perhaps it was a mistake to presume the same for such a needy, affectionate, boisterous side?

No, not perhaps, it was a huge mistake. A major fuck-up, if you will.

He’d thought, if the blunt side had needed such comforts, surely he would initiate it? He hardly shied away from anything, except, well.

Except. Feelings.

God, he was the dumbest smart person in the world.

“Oh, Remus…”

The Duke’s head jerked up, continuing his back-and-forth of desperation and rage.

“I don't need your pity!”

Logan sighed, twisting the end of his tie in frustration.

“That isn't what I'm offering,” he took a breath before continuing, linking the words together so it would come out right. “I'm so sorry, I didn't take into account how you would interpret our interactions. I thought it was obvious that I cared for you, that I didn't need to say it outright. Clearly… I was wrong. So, if you need more than what I previously expressed- which I'm now realizing was very little in the eyes of someone who is not me- then I am happy to provide that for you.”

Remus was shaken, a good deal of his ire slipping away. Whether that was good or bad remained unclear.

Before it could be overthought, Logan crossed the remaining few feet between them and brought his arms around The Duke in his loose approximation of a hug. The trait froze, but he didn't pull away.

Physical affection, check.

“I value your companionship more than I'm entirely sure how to verbalize. You understand me in a way that most others don’t seem to. While your ability to make detailed creations is very helpful, it is hardly the only thing I appreciate about you.

“For one, you make me laugh. A lot. More than I'm used to. Additionally, you can easily match the pace with which I speak, or change topics! And, you are so much smarter than you make yourself out to be,” Logan finished the spiel with a smile, genuinely proud at his ability to articulate such… sentimental things, with relative ease. Words of affirmation, check.

He snapped back to attention when Remus brought shaking hands up to Logan's chest. For a moment, he worried that Remus would shove him away. The fears dissipated when all he did was bunch the front of Logan's shirt in his hands and hold on tight.

“Do you mean that,” his volume was low, “Or do you just want me to calm down?”

Logan tightened his grip around him and, following a motion that he'd seen Patton employ many times to great success, he rubbed up and down his back.

“I understand that it might be hard for you to trust me, but I promise I'm not lying to you. I would have to be pretty awful to do something like that, wouldn't I?”

Hesitantly, Remus nodded against his collar. A good sign, but there was one thing left he had to say.

“And- If you need further convincing- then you should know. I love you.”

Remus stilled. He then unfisted his hands from Logan's shirt. It was an anticipatory second before he threw his arms around the logical trait and finally returned the hug. His hold was crushing, and it was the most comforting thing that Logan had ever felt.

They were okay.

“I'm sorry I-”

Logan didn’t let him finish the apology.

“Don't be. You didn't know how I felt, because I hadn't communicated it in a way you understood. That is hardly your fault.”

Remus nodded again, remaining much quieter than he’d probably ever been in his entire existence.

They held each other for longer than either would like to admit, speaking softly.

“Thanks,” was muttered against Logan’s shoulder.

“Of course. Just so you know, I'm more than willing to do this again whenever you need reassurance.”

“It might be a lot,” his tone was turning more mischievous, more him, “Are you sure you can handle that?”

“Absolutely.”

Logan hardly minded having an opportunity to gush about Remus to Remus. Not to mention, the physical affection was even nicer than he'd imagined it being. And oh, had he imagined it.

Remus' face returned to his usual ever-present zeal, and he ended their hug to bounce in place.

“Great! I'm good now! We can get on with that autopsy you wanted to show me- there better be buckets of blood!”

Logan shifted his weight.

“Maybe we should save that for another day.”

“Oh,” Remus' face fell the smallest bit, “Okay.”

Logan was quick to amend:

“By that I mean, I have something better in mind.”

Remus curled himself up in Logan’s lap, his eyes barely focused on the TV as the side carded his hands through his tangled mop of hair. Final Destination 3 played on the television (he had assured Logan that they didn't need to see the first two, and he was mostly right), serving as an excuse for the two to drink in each other's company.

It was right in the middle of a particularly graphic rollercoaster scene that Remus took Logan's hands from his hair to hold them, twisting around to face him.

“Is something wrong, Remus?”

“You told me you loved me,” he stated blankly.

“Yes, I did.”

“I didn't say it back!”

“No, you didn't,” it hadn't been the most important matter at the time, really. “You don't have to say it. It's perfectly okay if you don't feel the s- Mmph!”

Remus smashed their lips together, holding the sides of Logan's face (disrupting his glasses in the process) and pulling him forward harshly.

Logan, for less than a second, was floored. And then Remus tilted his head to deepen the already heated kiss, and the situation properly clicked. Logan reciprocated, slightly uncertain in his movements, wrapping his arms around the other’s waist.

Remus smiled against him. He nipped at Logan's lower lip with sharpened teeth, eliciting a very embarrassing yelp. Logic let his lips part in response as his thoughts grew fuzzier by the second.

The (somewhat clumsy) open-mouthed kiss lasted right until they absolutely had to break, separating for air. Neither moved very far, letting their foreheads rest against each other and all but panting for breath.

“I love you so fuckin' much, nerd,” when Remus spoke, their lips brushed ever so slightly, “Just so you know.”

“I picked up on that, yes.”

“A little clarity never hurts, right?”

Logan chuckled at the reference to his own sentiments, but the sound was abruptly cut off when Remus kissed him properly again.

When they broke apart, he explained how 'stupid-cute' that laugh was. And Logan, only half-joking (since when did he joke at all?), said that he’d have to do it more often.

Banter came easily to them, despite the raw undercurrent that still laced their conversation. Although, neither of them had ever found it difficult to talk; talk about the first thing that came to mind and the last thing that would come to anyone’s mind, talk about exceedingly simple nonsense and topics so intricate that they wound up sounding like nonsense, just talk.

So things would stay mostly the same. They would ramble to each other when no one else could stand to hear such disturbing things. They would sit, working side by side, running through plans and ideas and results at rapid-paced speech. They’d speak, and they would listen, when even their closest friends couldn’t manage such patience.

Only now, sometimes the rushed words might turn soft. Now, all that ranting might be more substantial than anyone would at first see. Now, they’d still listen, but leaned close together, gazes impossibly fond.

But then, on occasion, they would find that there were things far more fun than talking to do together.

@shrimp-crockpot

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

Text

Idiots ~ H.D.

A/n: God I love requests when people KNOW my branding!!

Request: “Hamish duke x male reader we’re the reader is a magician but can’t tell when someone is flirting with him and hamish trying to get his attention” by anon

Word Count: 3800+

Masterlist

Once upon a time, two boys sat at a table together in a little coffee shop. One of them went on and on and on about something and the other watched him with an expression that channeled both confusion and adoration. Everyone looking on had the same mixed expression, but this time with different emotions: charmed amusement, and frustration.

See, Hamish and Y/n were adorable and obviously in love and those who didn't even know them looked at them and saw a couple and smiled because young love. Because young love gave everyone hope. Because it was fresh and pretty and admirable and kind of funny when you thought about all they were going to go through, imagining it with a happy ending of course.

Unfortunately, for those who did know them, Hamish and Y/n were really fucking annoying.

They were obviously in love with each other - or at the very least attracted on some level. Y/n always listened to Hamish ramble, even though he obviously had no idea what Hamish was going on about most of the time. Likewise, Hamish dealt with Y/n's severely annoying ability to not perceive literally any attempt at flirting Hamish threw at him.

Don't get me wrong, Hamish was trying. REALLY HARD. He's been trying since they first met. Hamish had been forming a friendship with this girl- the only person who could keep up with him when he talked about his field and major. But there came a moment when he noticed that she lost interest in him and what he was saying, even as she talked and joked along in time. The day he'd met Y/n, the boy had been talking to that girl that Hamish was sort of becoming acquaintances with. He used to know her name, but she had been quickly forgotten when Hamish had noticed how Y/n never lost interest in him, even though the poor English major was obviously way over his head trying to understand what Hamish was saying.

Long story: the girl and Hamish stopped talking in favor of Hamish giving Y/n all his attention. He preferred to be cared about and he appreciated the effort Y/n was giving, even if he couldn't deliver with any results. He liked that he could go on and on about anything - even things outside of school - and Y/n would listen without complaint. There was something so genuine about Y/n. It drew Hamish in a lot. After a while, their conversation drifted from Hamish talking and Y/n listening to Hamish trying to get as much information about Y/n as he could. Y/n was willing to talk about a lot, and where he was hesitant Hamish recognized the line he'd drawn and let it be. They were only friends for five and a half months, but in that time Hamish had developed very deep feelings for Y/n. Which had lead him to try his hand at flirting.

At first he'd thought Y/n wasn't interested, but then someone had made a joke about them being a couple and Y/n had gone along with it without hesitation. Which seemed to Hamish as if he didn't mind the idea. He had looped in a classmate on a promise he'd do the kid's next assignment. The kid had flirted with Y/n, getting the same complete lack of understanding Hamish did. It seemed that despite Y/n being super affectionate and kind, and even though he was quite smart if Hamish gave the time and effort to help him understand, Y/n was the single most oblivious person Hamish had ever met. At some point Y/n had decided that no one would ever like him, or maybe he'd accepted flirting in some other form. Whatever it was, Y/n did not pick up on any common form of flirting at all.

Hamish tried for two months. TWO. MONTHS. He gave up and even tried straight up pick up lines. Y/n's response had been to return with pick up lines of his own and then to say, "I love that we can joke around like this. It's so refreshing, when everyone around here seems to be so gloomy and shit these days."

Hamish was at his wit's end. He was ready to just take a leap of faith and tell Y/n his feelings straight out and take the hit if Y/n rejected him. Before he could, unfortunately, he found a blue rose on his desk one morning as he prepared for his TA period. He'd looked around to see what it could possibly mean and after several hours and dark holes and wrong paths, came across the Hermetic Order of the Blue Rose. Instead of confronting Y/n about his feelings, he decided to go to this thing tonight. It seemed interesting and might give him time to clear his head. He enjoyed new things and learning opportunities. Something fresh to figure out might even clear his head and help him with this whole Y/n predicament.

That evening as Y/n and him did their usual afternoon studying together, Y/n seemed upset about something. Hamish wasn't going to prod about it, as he'd learned that Y/n only shared his thoughts and emotions when he was ready to, but it was setting a weird mood.

"Hamish?" The blonde boy looked up, expecting Y/n to finally share. Whatever he'd been expecting, what Y/n said next threw him off. "Don't go tonight."

Hamish's eyebrows came together. "Don't go to what?"

Y/n pursed his lips before looking at the colored pencils he'd been doodling with. They'd found that if Y/n took a few seconds every once in a while to do something other than homework, he had a lot better time studying. That didn't seem to be what he was thinking about now. He picked up a blue pencil and reached over, handing it to Hamish. "Will this one be okay to use on your notes? I know you're peculiar about how you organize them.”

Hamish didn't highlight his notes. He stapled them by units and had a different folder for each of his classes, but that was it. If he really needed to remember something, he would use blue pen instead of black. He hated using pencil though- it faded and smeared.

However, despite the oddity, Hamish was not confused about the message Y/n was sending. There was only one thing Hamish was doing tonight, as they'd made no other engagements. And the only way Y/n would know about it...

Y/n was part of the Order of the Hermetic Blue Rose. And he was telling Hamish not to come to the whatever it was.

In Y/n's eyes, Hamish saw a plea for Hamish to avoid the thing altogether.

"It'll be fine," Hamish said slowly. Y/n's level of code and secrecy lines up with the Order. After all, they were kind of like the Illuminati, if the Illuminati were real. It was super secret and most people thought it a big joke. Hamish had thought it a joke himself before he'd gotten that rose. He'd only heard of it in passing, mostly when homework "went missing" and people joked about the Order whisking it away, or someone wasn't in class and people played with the idea of them having crossed the Order. If Y/n was apart of it, he would never say it in any way.

"No," Y/n argued. He seemed to think for a second and Hamish realized that he was trying to deliver a message to Hamish. "Honestly Hamish I think this class is bad for you. You seem to struggle with it a lot. Maybe you should just drop it. I've been... meaning to tell you for a while now."

Raising an eyebrow, Hamish tried to figure out what Y/n was saying. Did he think this would be too hard for Hamish? That he wasn't smart or tough enough? No, that wasn't in character. Y/n always encouraged Hamish to do things even when Hamish himself set a limit. He decided to test the waters, push back a little. Try and get more information. “I mean it's not that bad. I've been enjoying it."

Y/n frowned. "I took it last year and it almost ruined my transcript. I know how much you care about your grades- it might really hurt them. Dangerous stuff you're playing with here." Hamish's eyebrows came together. Before he could ask, Y/n stood and gathered his stuff. "I'll see you tomorrow." He gave a tight smile, fear in his eyes. What was he afraid of? He left and Hamish gave only a small nod.

Was the Order really so serious? I mean honestly it was just a bunch of college kids. Were they... cruel? Maybe it was more of a gang than some powerful organization. Maybe Y/n was in trouble.

Well that meant that Hamish absolutely had to go. He needed to know what was going on and how to help Y/n, if he could. If he couldn't, at least they'd be able to watch each other's backs.

So he did.

And before anything happened, a weird ringing sound took over his entire mind and the next thing he knew he was in a room he sort of recognized but had no memory of. Naked. Covered in blood.

The next time he saw Y/n, surprise surprise, actually wasn't when they were all attacked by those they'd been closest to the last six months. And by they, he meant the three other people he also kind of recognized but, yet again, had no memory of. No, it was actually a little after he discovered what the Order really was and found out he was a werewolf. Alyssa Drake of all people popped out of nowhere, promising to give their memories back. And as she talked to Jack and tried to convince him to trust her, Hamish spotted Y/n next to her.

He became human and put a robe on, coming into the room. He felt a lot of emotions. They pushed him to blow right past Alyssa and Jack, straight to Y/n. Hamish pinned him against the wall, anger seeming to have taken the most hold for now. Y/n looked terrified, but when their eyes met his expression softened. Hamish got the impression that Y/n was not afraid of him, but something else. It made worry boil up and he pushed it down, trying to keep hold of himself.

"Tell me you weren't sent to watch me. Tell me you aren't one of them, Y/n."

The room was very quiet as the others came in, everyone watching. Y/n searched for the words for a second. "I- Hamish, I'm part of the Order." Hamish stepped back and Y/n's eyes watered. He seemed to be more panicked now. "I didn't become your friend just to watch you like the others though! We weren't ever supposed to meet or talk, not like we did. The- the girl I was talking to the day we met. SHE was supposed to watch you. But you started ignoring her and seemed to take to me better, so I- I- I hate it now, but back then I was just doing what I was told."

"So you took my memories?" Hamish demanded. "That didn't strike you as wrong?"

"Okay first of all," Y/n snapped. "I didn't even know who you were for like two and a half weeks after we started talking, okay? When they told me, they introduced you as some incredibly dangerous monster who was hellbent on killing everyone who used magic so even if I had, it would have been in self defense because I thought you were dangerous."

Lilith stepped forward. "If you had?"

Y/n huffed, straightening his clothes. "I didn't ever dust you. By the time they told me who you were, they only told me because I was talking to someone about this guy that I-" he cut off, and Hamish shifted upon seeing the blush rise up his throat. Lilith and Alyssa both wore the exact same look. They knew exactly how Y/n felt. "I was friends with." It was then that Jack's eyes went wide with understanding too. "They tried to convince me to stay away because of what you are, but all you've ever been is funny and smart and really talented and snarky as hell." He huffed in amusement. "I was always kind of impressed with you, your sass is like next level it's amazing." Everyone in the room felt the oddity of the warring emotions of everyone else with the weird sort of light and humor Y/n brought to the table. They wanted to smile, but there was too much else going on. Y/n cleared his throat, trying to not default to humor. Hamish cursed himself for being concerned- he knew that Y/n struggled a lot with being emotionally vulnerable. "Anyway, I don't know who did it or how or when, but they never even asked me to. They thought that we had stopped talking for the most part. I never talked about you again at least."

"Until now," Alyssa spoke up. "He confronted me. Begged me to help because he said I would understand since I was... friends with Jack. I told him about my plan to come here and help you guys and he was more than willing and ready. We were hoping that together we might be able to convince you."

The Knights got quiet, all listening to each other. But it was clear that everyone but Randall was nearly completely convinced, and Randall didn't care enough to argue. If his friends were going, so was he.

They all lined up and Alyssa dusted them. At first they panicked but when they all woke up with their memories completely returned, Hamish's eyes immediately landed on a very hopeful Y/n. He scrambled to his feet, trying to find his words. "You lied to me." Y/n paled. He seemed to be terrified again, but this time Hamish knew immediately why. He was scared of losing Hamish.

Again.

"Hey guys! How are we doing?" Y/n was smiling as usual. It was dazzling to Hamish.

"Better now that you're here."

Y/n laughed. "I know you've been having a hard time with homework, but have you really been so miserable without the comedy relief around to lift the mood?"

Everyone exchanged looks. Everyone but Y/n, who was as always oblivious to everything. Hamish had struck out again.

The first memory was the easiest to swallow.

"Hey Hammy."

"You've been spending too much time with Randall," Hamish sighed as Y/n greeted him upon entering the Den. Y/n laughed. "Maybe you should be spending more time with me."

"Miss me?" Y/n teased.

Hamish looked up from his book, locking eyes with Y/n. "Yeah. Maybe just us? Tonight? Dinner? Movie? Something else?"

Y/n shrugged, his expression unchanged. "Yeah sure dude. I'm starving, and the new-" Hamish stopped listening after that. His message had gone unreceived once more.

He could remember everything, and yet he found himself mulling over the ones about Y/n the most.

"You should wear that shirt more often. You look very good in it."

"Thanks man."

And-

"You free later? I was thinking maybe we could get better acquainted."

"And see I was sitting here thinking we were already best friends." Y/n’s frustratingly beautiful laugh rang out again and Hamish felt his shoulders slump. "Yeah I'm down to hang. Anything for my best buddy."

Then there was-

"Hey Y/n nice pants. They'd look great on Hamish's floor."

"Very funny Lilith," Y/n hummed as he read a book. Hamish shot her a death glare as he sat next to Y/n, his arm draped over the back of the couch they both sat on.

"Not a joke," Randall chimed in. "I think they'd really match the walls. Maybe try it out?"

"I would have to take them off to do that, and I don't see the point of going all the way back to my dorm to get another pair of pants for me to wear just so we can see how these look on Hamish's floor. Total waste of time, especially when I have to have this book read by tomorrow for class."

Eventually Hamish had just turned to pick up lines.

"Hey Y/n, can you hold this?"

He held out his hand and Y/n went to take whatever he was holding, only for Hamish to interlock their fingers. Y/n laughed and didn't drop his hand, even as he rolled his eyes to dismiss what was happening. "Now who's been spending too much time with Randall?" After Y/n looked the other way, Hamish frowned and dropped his hand.

Attempt after attempt after attempt....

"Kiss me if I'm wrong but dinosaurs still exist right?"

Y/n didn't even blink. "Dinosaurs do exist, silly. Well, their bones do. We can go the museum to check them out if you want to?"

Hamish huffed. "What about the kissing me part?"

"Well you were wrong, so I'll have to pass," Y/n reasoned calmly. Hamish glared at the opposite wall so Y/n couldn't see.

He had tried everything.

"You remind me of my homework, because I'm going to slam you on my desk and do you all night."

Y/n burst out laughing. "That's a good one! I haven't heard that one yet. Did you go on some weird kick and look all these up? You've had a load to share lately."

Hamish sighed. "Yeah. Randall got drunk and shared them all with me. I thought they'd make you laugh."

Until he'd finally just said it.

Hamish stood in front of Y/n, desperate. At this point, even his friends thought Y/n was a hopeless case. Maybe they'd been wrong. Maybe Y/n didn't like Hamish. Maybe he was just trying to be polite. "Will you go on a date with me Y/n?”

Y/n smiled at Hamish. "Lose to Cup Pong with Randall again?" Hamish didn't even waste the time to come up with something. He just turned around and walked away, ignoring Y/n's familiar laugh behind him.

He'd been sure that Y/n just wasn't into him. Until:

"If we die today, I need you to know that I love you."

"I love y-"

"No." Hamish grabbed Y/n by the shoulders, his eyes boring into the other boy's. "The Order is probably going to kill us today, or the next chance they get, now that they know about us. Even if it's not today. I can't die without you knowing that I've legitimately fallen in love with you and it's driving me insane."

Y/n's eyes were wide and earnest, but before he could respond Vera and him had to face the magicians outside who had found the Den, and after there had been too much going on... He hadn't even gotten to get Y/n alone before his memory of Y/n had been taken completely in one go.

Hamish remembered everything. He remembered scheming with Randall, who knew Y/n the most of course because-

Randall was the first to move after they all woke up, dazed and trying to process all their new memories. He, of course, tackled Y/n in a hug immediately. They were both crying. "I'm sorry I forgot you."

"I knew you'd come around," Y/n reassured. "We're brothers man. You can't get rid of me even though you totally want to."

Leaning away, Randall laughed as he wiped his tears. The pair had been a duo for as long as any of the pack had known either of them. Randall was the one who acted like an idiot but was super smart. Y/n was the one who everyone thought was super smart because he got great grades and knew fun facts, but who was actually a total idiot in the sense that he had absolutely no people skills and misread almost every situation and made everything either really fun or super awkward. With help from Hamish he'd been able to figure it out a little. That's how they'd all met. Hamish had told them both about the Knights, but only Randall had been chosen by one of the furs. They'd all been friends until...

"Wait, you're part of the Order?" Hamish voiced.

Y/n sighed, Randall's arms falling away from him. "Alyssa came to me before. She begged me not to tell you, because if they didn't dust you then they were going to kill you. I figured it would be better to have you guys forget me than to be dead, at least until we could figure... something out. I told mom that something really bad had happened and you had disowned me. Said-" He blushed. "I said you and Hamish were together and I'd made a move on you. She was PISSED and left it to me to fix. I was just glad she didn't mention me to you at all. She's been mad at me for ages and demanding I figure out a way to fix it, so when Alyssa had the idea to just work with you guys instead of doing what we were told... I was all for it."

"He joined the Order so they wouldn't wipe his memories," Alyssa continued. "Because all of last year's additions had been... eliminated one way or another, we needed more people anyway. And since Y/n already knew about magic and you guys, it was only too easy to convince the Grand Magus to induct him."

Hamish stood and Y/n did with him. Randall immediately got protective, but Y/n placed a hand on his shoulder and he calmed. Not that he could take Hamish... maybe. Now Y/n was curious, but this wasn't the thing to be worrying about right now.

Hamish opened his mouth to speak, and from the look in his eyes Y/n could see what he was thinking. So he skipped the pleasantries and rushed to him, pulling him close by the back of his neck so their lips could press together. Everyone else, despite everything going on, cheered. After everything they'd been through and all the hardships they'd faced, finally - FINALLY - Y/n had figured his shit out.

When Y/n pulled apart, both boys were grinning. "I've been being your friend for the last few months so that when I finally found out a way to get your memories back, they wouldn't question it when we got together because goddamnit Hamish, I love you too. And I hope you still feel the way you did then, even knowing that I'm part of the Order. That I... I know magic, and use it." He looked like he was ready to get rejected.

"You still know nothing," Hamish whispered. "The fact that you could feel me miss you back and you still think I would chose any other relationship or person over you or let anything get between us... How can you be THAT stupid?"

Y/n socked him on the shoulder. "Asshole."

Hamish just grinned before hooking his finger in Y/n's belt loops. "Your asshole."

"Damn right," Y/n whispered, smirking.

Lilith reached over and chucked a pillow at them. "OKAY OKAY! We do have shit to deal with other than your guys' love life." She was right. The boys parted and everyone got ready to do whatever they had to next to make the scales balanced again. To make it all right.

But as they all headed to the the temple, Y/n leaned over and added, "I owe you a date."

Hamish just smiled at that. "More like you owe me ten."

#hamish duke #the order #knights of saint christopher #hamish duke x reader #hamish duke imagine #nonbinary reader #the order x reader #the order imagine #male reader

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vesuvian-american-fics · 4 years

Text

True Bloodlust Ch 10

The Hunt Begins

Finally, that violence and blood you've been craving is finally gifted. It's high time you show your true worth to the Phantom Troupe, and your worth to Feitan. (AO3)

Words: 1,770

Itching with anticipation, in unison Feitan, Phinks, and Nobunaga scooch to the edge of their seats watching everything play out on the plasma screen before them. Feitan stared at the television with ever-growing focus, his aura growing more intense by the second. Phinks and Nobunaga shared a glance at each other, smirking inwardly at how Feitan was losing his usual composure over you.

Back at the gala, you too were itching with anticipation. Fidgeting and unable to stay still, Shalnark slinked his muscular arm around your waist and pulled you near.

“You scared?” He whispered teasingly.

“Hell no! I want something to happen already.” You whisper screamed in response. Back at the base Chrollo shook his head, humming contently to himself at your words.

“Much like Uvogin,” he thought to himself. Down the hall the rest of the Spiders gave quiet commentary, making bets and guesses on your ability and its limits.

“I don’t care what they can do, so long as they pull their own weight.” Machi comments, attempting to seem uninterested in the little game her comrades were making out of this.

“Jealous already, Machi?” Hisoka purred into her ear after lifting a pink lock of hair out of his way. Machi swatted his hand away before returning her attention to the screen.

“I’m not jealous, jeez. I’m just not making a game out of something so serious. They’re clearly inexperienced when it comes to stealth.” Machi analyzed your body language, only an idiot would be able to ignore your bloodlust, you can’t even hold yourself still.

“Ooh~ I understand, you’re worried about your new friend?” Hisoka says, an air of delight melting into his words. He leans back onto his hands, stifling his giggles at Machi’s flushed cheeks and muttered words.

“Pay attention.” She spat, ending the conversation abruptly. Machi came to like you pretty quick, you were excitable, but still there was a weakness she couldn’t quite pinpoint about you. She’d hate to see you die so soon. You need discipline to make it in the Spiders. She hopes you aren’t as disposable as you seem right now.

Truthfully, many of the other Spiders, Phinks and Nobunaga including were having the same thoughts. Were you capable? Was the reason you were so quickly allowed into the Phantom Troupe because you were going to die on your first mission so it didn’t matter?

Yes, that was exactly what Chrollo figured would happen. In truth, the reason the Glam Gas Land Mafia are at the gala in waves this evening is because Chrollo Lucilfer himself had them hired. For if you and Shalnark are to fail, Chrollo still wins a check at the end of the night. He loses nothing from this bet. However, if you prove yourself, he gains the check and a new member strong enough to have earned their spot amongst the Spiders.

If this task proves too much for Shalnark alone, he’ll send Feitan and the others for back up and kill everyone in attendance, despite the initial call for no violence. Chrollo simply can’t lose a thing in this scenario. It’s entertaining for one.

…

“Well, you got your wish. Someone’s coming this way, act normal.” Shalnark warns inconspicuously. It was true, to you and Shalnark’s left was a large burly man, shaved head and a menacing ragged scar decorating his sharp strong jaw.

He had to be just shy of Franklin’s height, you imagined. He trudged fourth, a stern look on his face. He’s what you would imagine a caveman to look like, strong brow bone, a permanent scowl. Intimidating to most but an intriguing challenge to you.

His hulking figure cast a shadow over your form, your eyes panned up to evenly hold his stare. Almost as if you two were testing each other’s strength though shared eye contact, but something about your eyes were so sinister and empty the stranger had to look away.

Your smirk spread just a fraction wider at that small win, Feitan’s smirk mimicked yours little did you both know. Nothing got past his keen eye, he noticed the way the Mafia man shivered under your piercing gaze, Feitan only wished he could see that look in person.

However, before he could have anymore lewd imaginations the man before you finally spoke, addressing Shalnark.

“You two don’t look like you’re from around here...” He says, cracking his knuckles to look threatening.

“We’re not.” Shalnark responds slyly, giving a soft smile that his big round eyes match perfectly. You smile as well, and it would look more genuine if not for your narrowed soulless eyes.

“Hm. Well, outsiders weren’t welcome.” He grunts back, nodding to his other men to come join him. Two more large men, nearly identical to the first circle around you both.

“How’s about we go talk in private?” The man asks smugly.

“Sounds lovely.” You coo, following after the man dutifully. The two of you are led away from the main ballroom and closer towards the back of the building, empty and abandoned corridors at every corner. Perfect for the job that lies ahead.

The further away you walked the more men you noticed filing in behind you both. Shalnark wasn’t necessarily nervous but he was beginning to understand that this job would become more difficult than he’d like to admit. You however, were feeling giddy. Finally, a real job, bloodshed, a fight, something you’ve longed for for so long. Only thing that could make it better were if Feitan were present. You wanted nothing more than to fight along his side, to impress him further.

But for now, tonight, you needed to focus and show your worth to your new Boss. Without stealing a glance behind you, at lightning speed your nailed sharpened with channeled nen and you sliced a small cut on the back of the Mafia boss’s neck.

To the untrained eye your movements were too fast to detect, simply looking like a trick of the light to the men following after you, if they caught that at all. You made sure to show the camera that was situated in your fake glasses the small drop of cherry red blood before ingesting it. You hummed at the flavor; it was sweet like candy.

You desperately wanted more from him.

Behind you, Shalnark has already stuck 2 pins in the men directly behind you. That leaves just ten men here that are free of being controlled for the time being. The Mafia Boss opened large double doors at the end of the hallway that led outside of the fancy hotel the gala was being held at.

The brutes filed out after you both and surrounded you and Shalnark. The boss rounded on the two of you, pulling a gun from out of his pants waistband.

“Do you want to die quickly or not?” He asked, not sparing you both a second glance.

“What about you?” You asked, rocking back and forth on your heels. Stifling your giggles through pursed lips.

"Childish glee," Chrollo commented to himself.

The man simply quirked his thick brow at you before stopping in his tracks and coming to stand in front of you hoping to use his height as an intimidation tactic.

“I said, what about you? Do you want to die quickly or be my toy for the night? Your blood tastes so sweet, I hope we can play longer–” You say flicking some dust off of his broad chest. He roughly swatted your hand away before grabbing you by the collar.

“I don’t know what you’re on but I ain’t dying tonight!” He barked lifting you by your collar until you struggled to keep yourself grounded.

“I don’t have the time to keep you, it has to be tonight.” You pouted, and before he could form words to respond back to you, you cut him off.

“Think about it a bit while I borrow your body.” With that you clasped your hands together and took control, gently the Mafia boss released your collar and set you back on the ground carefully. He pulled out his revolver, aiming it to colleague’s head.

Before the rest of the Mafia men could comprehend what was going on, you made him pull the trigger. Shalnark jumped out from the sea of men, pulling out his bat phone to begin using his subjects. The two of you used your three men to shoot and kill the other ten ruffians and subsequently the two that Shalnark was manipulating.

Tears could be seen streaming down the Boss’s ashen cheeks. His lip bobbed pitifully as he wept, unable to control his body and stop the casualties.

“Good job!” You exclaim, nudging Shalnark with your elbow playfully.

“Though, I’m sure there’s more guys inside just waiting on us,” the Boss’s eyes widened a fraction and darted towards you, fearful.

“Yup, that just about confirms it, let’s keep this one of course and take the dead one’s guns.” You explain, Shalnark allows you to take the lead given that this is your test and all.

You release the man, only for a moment as you massage your temple. Controlling your puppets in this manner causes immense strain on the mind, and you were sure to take more puppets along the way. The Mafia Boss ran only a few steps before you sliced a deeper gash on the back of his neck. So deep, he’d need stitches if he were going to survive this at all.

He barked in pain before his body went stiff in time with the clap of your hands meeting once again to regain control. The bond was stronger now, the more blood the better the control, yet the more strain on you in turn. But you didn’t mind, you can handle the excruciating headache later.

You turned the Mafia man around to face you once more, his face was blank but, in his mind, he was screaming bloody murder. The look on your face was sickening and horrifying, he’d never been more afraid. Are you human? That grin that for sure could split your face in half at any moment, the glazed look in your eyes, you licked your lips, traces of his blood dripping down your chin. You moaned at the flavor sinfully, causing Feitan’s pants to grow tighter around him.

“Tsk.” He sucked his teeth, evidently growing more frustrated that he couldn’t be out there with you enjoying himself.

“Let’s go have some fun.” You said, before both you and Shalnark reentered the venue with your puppet, ready to claim that prize check by any means necessary.

#True Bloodlust #feitan x reader #feitan portor #feitan #hxh #Hunter X Hunter #blood mention #trigger warning #blood #death mention

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captain-danwilds · 3 years

Text

I’ve been waiting for so long (to feel like I’m home)

A RBB 2021 Fic AO3 Accompanying Art by @mareofthesky

Summary: Palmetto Public Hospital was just supposed to be another meaningless stop in Neil Josten's life. He doesn't have a reason to keep running to a new hospital every few months, but that doesn't mean he's learned how to stay. And there's something about the rest of the staff on the burn ward that makes him want to try, especially the physical therapist.

This fic was written for the 2021 AFTG Reverse Big Bang. Thank you @gluupor for organizing! I had the joy of being paired with @mareofthesky. She’s absolutely incredible, both as an artist and as a human being. I seriously couldn’t ask for someone better.

This work takes place in a hospital in pre-COVID times. I am not a nurse, doctor or physical therapist, let alone a burn survivor. I do not know everything they go through. I’ve tried to be as accurate as possible, but recognize that I’m going to be wrong about some things. There’s only so far research can take you.

While I don’t think this work is more graphic than canon, it does deal with some distressing stuff, namely: burns, blood, hospitals, child abuse, violence, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, torture, mutilation of corpses (referenced) and Baltimore references.

Nathaniel Wesninski was thirteen when his mother almost died.

In another universe, this would have been the thing that killed her. She would have gotten her hands-on fake passports and they would have traveled across Europe until he was fourteen and Stefan got shot in Germany. But they would have still ended up in Seattle, her blood spilling on the leather seat as her son drove down the coastline.

In this world, their plans to head to Europe fell through quickly. There hadn't been a couple million dollars to pave the way, just two desperate souls fleeing in the night because Nathaniel couldn't live up to the standards his father set for him.

Nathan Wesninski was the head of his own empire, eager for his son to take over. There was no Yakuza demanding a show of loyalty. If Nathaniel had shown promise, he would have been able to take over the family operation.

The problem was, in both worlds, Nathaniel hadn't shown promise. It took years for him to learn how to watch his father butcher a man without crying. He could never master Lola's style of knife play, refusing to draw out the pain any more than strictly necessary. As he got older, his eyes would go stony, his hands moving automatically. But he was moving through water. He barricaded himself into his own head so that he didn't register the stickiness of the blood on his hands until he'd left the basement. The sound of screams became so ubiquitous, he could tune it out. There was no joy, certainly no drive to continue the Butcher's legacy.

He had merely nodded when his father had announced he expected Nathaniel to take care of the traitor in his ranks. He kept his feet trained on the floor, on the puddles of blood slowly inching toward the central drain.

But Mary saw the gleam on her husband's face, the unspoken or else. She also happened to know the traitor in question. One of the servants who liked to sneak Nathaniel snacks while he worked on his homework. There was no way that Nathaniel could force himself to do it. He'd be left with new scars if he was lucky. Knowing her husband and his current frustration over territory losses, Nathaniel wasn’t going to be lucky.

So she'd grabbed what she could, contacted the few contacts she had with her family that could do good work for cheap and escaped into the night.

When they met Nathan and his ilk in Seattle, they had only been on the run for three years. Linda and Alex, their 8th set of names, had settled into the type of neighborhood where no one noticed another kid with desperation in their eyes, where no one had the energy to poke into anyone else's business during the break between second and third jobs. Alex was fine, good at following orders, a natural at stitches. He could blend in just fine, answer questions the right way, but he certainly wasn't ready to start out on his own.

For every time they successfully changed identities, he complained about not joining the track team or jostled against the restrictions of coming home directly after school without hanging on the monkey bars or meeting friends. For all their time on the run, for all the times she'd tried to beat it out of him, Alex was still a child.

And even if he had been ready to stake out on his own. A child, especially one as small as Alex, would always draw attention when traveling alone.

Despite that, he had been able to drive the beaten down car, the phone book stacked beneath him giving him just enough extra height to see the road. His maneuvering was perfect as he weaved through traffic. They hadn't spent weeks training as Caroline and Sam in backroads lined with corn in Iowa for him to fail when escape was their only option.

Mary applied pressure to the bullet wound with one hand and frantically called the local FBI office with her other. Her family might have been able to help her, but she wouldn't live to see them arrive from England. In dire circumstances one had to make do.

And Mary had years’ worth of insider information of her husband's dealing she could easily trade for her treatment at a hospital and her son's continued safety.

So Nathaniel was 13 when his mother almost died, and he entered the witness protection program. He was thirteen when he became Neil Josten.

"Isn't it too similar to his real name?" Mary huffed, giving the trio sent to her hospital room a jaunty smile.

The mousy-haired social worker pushed up her glasses as she gave them a placating smile. "We find young children tend to adapt better when allowed some connection to their genuine selves."

Mary had rolled her eyes, but Neil had merely frowned. He had no idea what she meant by genuine self. Was he supposed to be like creative like Sam? Or logical like Owen? His life had been a mass of contradictions. The only thing he knew for certain was he didn't want to be brutal like Nathaniel.

The only thing he'd consistently been his entire life was scared.

He was fifteen by the time arrests were started to be made in Baltimore.

"You needed two years for that?" Mary spat as she talked to their handler over the phone from their Millport townhouse. "Fucking Moorhouse and Redler?

Neil dutifully filled out his homework as he sat sprawled out in the living room with the patio door open so he could smell his mother's cigarettes as she badgered tonight's lucky caller.

"I would have thought that you'd have something more to show for yourselves. Truly the incompetence is astounding."

Neil smirked as Mary's natural brogue colored her words. She could speak half a dozen languages with the precision of a local but rile her up enough and anyone would be able to tell she’d spent her childhood running wild in Manchester.

Neil pressed his pencil hard into the paper as he underlined yet another one of the rules for pickleball. Sure he couldn't even run around the neighborhood anytime soon, let alone play a game he's actually interested in, but the epitome of his online gym education truly was learning rules and regulations for sports he wasn't even sure were real.

"I'm allowed to lie on this one right?" He sarcastically asked his caseworker as he laid out the exercise tracker worksheet. "Like I'm not about to put myself in federal custody for claiming I have access to an Exy court? Since you guys said I had to be totally honest and everything"

She had rolled his eyes at him, but she didn't ask about Mary's late night phone calls to Uncle Stuart, so Neil took it for the win it was.

In another world, he was nineteen when his father’s people found them. Instead, he was fifteen. Fifteen with a limited skill-set since there are things that can be taught on the run that can’t be taught in a small flat under government surveillance.

The only bright side was that in this world, there was no car. He was not crammed in a trunk with Lola tool close, practically grinding on top of him as she reminded him how much he looked like his father. It’s a small victory.

Instead there’s screaming and knives and he had to watch. He had to watch with his heart in his throat as Romero showed no mercy. Watch as his mother died, watch until he can’t recognize her corpse anymore.

They took enjoyment in this. Lola’s practically laughed as he slammed into the wall, as she dragged her knife down his chest.

Neil spit in Lola’s face as she poured the gasoline. With his squirming, it only managed to douse half his body, but it was enough to finally wrench the screams from his throat as the flames bit into his flesh.

He was scared. He fought back anyway.

But that really wouldn’t have changed in either world.

The bullets that finally came, that finally bring everything to an end, did not come from his Uncle in revenge.

Instead they are fired by federal officers aiming to main so as not to lose the opportunity to interrogate the criminals that might have enough knowledge to bring all of East Coast’s organized crime to its knees.

The weeks that followed weren’t kind to him. Neil saw the pictures later and he didn’t even recognize his own face.

But for once, the people were kind. Kind enough to give him hope even as the rest of the world collapsed around him.

Somewhere else a scared boy finds his family and himself at nineteen on an Exy court. In this world, Neil Josten is twenty-six and finds them in a hospital. This is that story.

"It really was lucky that we found you with such short notice."

In general, Neil Josten didn't believe in luck. He certainly wouldn't call it luck when Palmetto Public Hospital had posted exactly the type of job he looked for on all the travel nurse job boards. Just desperate sounding enough to cause people to not ask too many questions, while professional enough to not make a big deal of his scars.

Neil took Chief Nurse Danielle Wilds' hand with a carefully constructed smile on his face. "I'm glad I'm able to help. Although I was under the impression, I'd be your replacement."

Wilds let out as a laugh as she seemed to instinctively cradle her baby bump. "My husband, Matt, you'll be working with him too, thinks I'm being ridiculous, wanting to show you around myself, but I'd truly hate for you to get the wrong impression of us."

Neil just barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. Every hospital thought they were so special. Like a family or some shit. Every hospital was wrong.

Procedure might differ slightly, and some places had more people worth avoiding. But in the end, all that mattered was that the nurses showed up, did their job and offered some kindness. Even if he’s no Abby, even if his version of kindness wasn’t so much sympathy as it is experience, kindness was essential.

He can never claim to know exactly what the patients are going through. Even if they showed up with third degree burns down half their body, a punctured lung, a broken arm and some knife wounds, he wouldn’t really know. He’d just know they’d hurt like hell. Even if the injuries were the same, their story would be very different.

No one breaks the same way.

Still the things a broken person can say to another broken person can often carry more weight.

It’s one thing to offer sympathy. It’s another entirely to nod in understanding that your body doesn’t entirely feel like yours anymore, that it might never feel like yours, but you just have to keep going forward.

Over the years, Neil got very good at moving forward.

Neil tossed his running shoes by the door. It took him less than ten minutes for Neil to add his things to the furnished apartment. He'd discovered only two hospitals ago that people ask less questions if his clothes weren't covered in wrinkles from staying packed. So Neil haphazardly moved the folded scrubs onto the cheapest hangers he could find.

3:08 PM I'm all moved in.

The responding string of smiley faces to Neil's message was instantaneous despite the fact it was the middle of the afternoon and Abby was likely still on shift. (Or maybe precisely because she was on shift and had her phone on to stay up to date on patients as opposed to cutting herself off from the rest of the world to try and squeeze out some sleep.)

He didn't feel guilty per say as he closed his phone. Abby knew better to expect much from him.

"Kiddo, I'm going to take what I can get. I understand you aren’t used to having someone in your corner." She said as she bundled him up for college, doing far more than anyone had expected of her.

Well he should have expected it of her. Abby had practically laughed in his case worker's face when Cindy had brought up the different moveout options for when Neil turned 18.

It was a strange thing to have someone, even if he kept her at arm's length.

It's for her own good. The little traitorous voice in his head whispered.

Logically, Neil knew that Abby was already in too deep. Anyone, including any of his father's men seeking retribution could find her by simply looking for his file. He didn't need to maintain a relationship with her in order for Abby to be at risk. She had housed him during the trial. That would be enough for them. There was no need to push her away, to prevent her from actually knowing him.

But he felt a little bad that she knew him well enough to not ask why he had a new number or what his address was. Moving so soon after getting a housewarming package of cookies hadn’t been an overreaction and he stood by that.

When he finally met him, Matt was more of an overexcited puppy than an actual person. He dragged Neil down to the cafeteria every day they shared a break. Matt carried the conversation easily needing only the slightest input from Neil to keep going. He talked about any and everything, from college exploits to TV shows to worries that he wouldn’t be a good dad.

“It’s not like I had the best example, you know?” Matt joked even as his eyes are serious.

Neil nodded, understanding a bit too well. “Still an example. Just an example of one way to fuck up. You’ll be fine.”

He ducked his head as Matt beamed too brightly at him.

Words were a weapon he’s used to, but everything about conversations with Matt felt wrong.

Matt made him feel unbalanced. He offered up genuine parts of himself so easily. Neil wished he had something to give him in return for his easy friendship and trust, but even what was safe to say felt like it belonged to a different person entirely, a person he didn’t want to be anymore.

And what was left after that? The fact he didn’t like books or movies or vegetables. It wasn’t a fair trade. Matt shouldn’t be content to accept the breadcrumbs Neil offers in return for his raw insecurities.

But he was.

And that made Neil want to try. Try to force himself into a person Matt deserved, someone real.

Creating that person was fucking exhausting.

After two weeks, he had more than enough. Neil had a bag lunch and a mission.

Neil slipped into the stairwell without anyone spotting him and headed up. He might be able get onto the roof. But he would settle for just one of the upper floors. As long as there was no well-meaning coworker attempting to engage him in the break room or bring him down to the cafeteria, Neil would consider it a win.

The door marked “Roof Access – Maintenance Staff Only" looked like it should be locked. But a few jiggles of the handle had it opening easily enough.

The roof wasn't empty like he expected. Instead there's a figure sitting cross-legged near the front edge of the roof. Even from here, Neil could tell the man is short. Small but not delicate. Probably a former athlete from the width of his shoulders, the bulk visible even through the loose black scrubs. His short blonde hair is slightly windswept, enough so that he can see the man’s black earrings.

Neil tried to place him. He is not the best with names. He didn't see the point of attempting to remember when he’d be gone soon. But Dan had wanted to introduce him to everyone, saying something about them not being a whole bunch of "do-nothings" and it would do him some good to know the typical inhabitants of the burn ward.

Allison had taken that a step farther. Probably because she wanted gossip and hearing vague descriptions wasn't very helpful to her.

Neil stared for a second, cataloguing the man from behind, before it clicked.

Andrew Minyard, Physical Therapist.

”Monster Minyard” Allison said as she brought him around with her one day, telling him everything he should know about his new coworkers. “Bites worse than his bark. If he wasn’t so good with hopeless cases or getting rid of particularly overbearing visitors, I wouldn’t even know why we kept him around.”

The little Neil’s seen already was more than enough to know Andrew’s good.

The only way the nickname seemed to fit at all was that the man was intimidating when he wanted to be, that he could turn himself into a threat with ease. Neil had seen him practically threaten a relative with a scalpel to the chest before turning on the dime and gently helping the patient bend the joints covered with skin grafts.

But the most remarkable thing was how Andrew always let his patients set the pace.

There were sections of his own skin where Neil had lost sensation. There were days when they'd ache or itch, but he couldn't feel much beyond heat. He'd nearly decked the first doctor who touched his arm without warning him. Neil hadn't even realized he was there until the hand moved to a less ravaged spot. Everything about it had made him feel unsteady. He couldn't rely on his body to stand guard for him anymore.

But Minyard never let his patients be surprised. He narrated everything he did before he did it. Nothing was a surprise. They could say no if they didn't feel ready or if something hurt particularly bad that day. He was flexible with the patients in a way he never was with the staff.

Neil hadn't actually heard Minyard utter a word that wasn't directly related to their jobs. He moved silently through the halls, meeting attempts to socialize with deep scowls.

Maybe he'd be better off scouting out somewhere else. There was no rule that Minyard owned the roof. But Neil was also used to spotting dangerous people and everything about Minyard screamed trouble.

“What are you doing up here?”

Neil hadn’t realized Andrew had even known he was up here yet. He didn’t bother turning when Neil forced the door open.

“Trying to avoid company.” Neil moved across the room until he sat next to Andrew. They’re not quite at the edge, but there’s no guardrail. It’s unnerving.

Andrew gave a soft grunt of acknowledgement, still not looking at him.

“What are you doing on the roof?”

“Used to smoke. Never broke the habit.”

Neil merely nodded as he unwrapped his sandwich.

Andrew tilted his head just slightly to the side. “I thought that you’d be put off by smoking.”

“Is it bad to say I like the smell?”

Andrew’s nose scrunched ever so slightly. "You lie. All the time."

Neil only nodded again at the accusation.

This time it isn’t quite a lie. He did like the smell. It’s not quite the same as the Lucky Strikes his mother would blow through after she thought he was asleep. But it’s close, certainly a lot closer than the smell of burning human flesh.

But it's not like Minyard's wrong either. He did lie all the time. Sometimes it felt like lying came easier than breathing.

The rest of the staff hadn’t seemed as bothered about the lies. They were practically amused by them. Neil had smirked when he passed the break room and overheard them sharing some of the most outrageous ones.

“I heard him say to 402’s kid that he was trying to steal treasure from a palace guarded by lava, and he hadn’t been able to jump far enough on his way out.

“At least that one’s child appropriate, he told 407 that was a victim of secret government trials of new chemical warfare weapons. As if anyone with a brain couldn’t tell those were accelerant flame not pure chemical burns.” Allison added.

No one mentioned “International Jewel Thief tortured for trade secrets.” And Seth didn’t bring up “I dabbled in porn to get through college. Got a bit too into temperature play” even if it had made patient 406 laugh uproariously. It was almost a shame his best lies were unappreciated.

They’d even started a bet on what the real reason could be. It would never be settled since it required asking him directly and none of them would do that. They all liked to pretend to have morals even as they bet on everything under the sun. Besides what sort of example would it set to their patients? The one staff member that actually looked like them and yet they couldn’t even show basic decency with regards to his privacy.

Maybe they have a whole separate bet about who’s finally going to work up the courage. Neil didn’t think any of them had put money on that person being Minyard.

Minyard turned to face Neil for the first time, "Tell me something true."

It wasn’t concern on Minyard's face. The look in his eyes barely qualified as interested, but Neil still wanted to answer him. He didn’t know what to say but he can't dismiss the fact that he wanted to answer. It was easy to admit to himself he doesn't typically want anything.

"I don't see the point of icebreakers."

Minyard tapped his fingers aggressively against the roof. "I'm not asking for party tricks. I'm asking for something true."

Neil wasn't sure he even had something true to offer. What does that mean when he existed as a lie stacked atop another lie? The things he’s already told Matt don’t hold enough substance to be something true.

"I didn't even think about becoming a nurse until after all this." He gestured to himself. He can't call it an accident even if that would make it simpler.

It was no accident where Lola pressed the dashboard lighter into his face, no accident in the way she poured the gasoline. Every one of her actions had been designed to cause him the maximum amount of pain. This wasn’t an accident.

"My roommate forced me into PT. Thought that since it was his new purpose in life, it would be mine too."

"It's not like he was wrong."

"You disgust me Josten."

"I mean you can't be so good at your job without feeling something."

"It's more interesting than other options."

"So you like it then." Neil teased easily.

“Give me one good reason to not push you off the side.”

"Just try. I'd drag you with me. It's a long way down.”

It grew from there. Going to the roof was no longer about avoiding the others by spending time with Minyard, but instead about just talking with Andrew. Eating on the roof together felt easy. The conversation had rules. Answer for answer, truth for truth. There was no awkward imbalance or a desire to be something more for Andrew. They could just talk.

Neil practically collapsed into his spot on the roof with his lunch in hand. He was painfully aware of how he’d gradually crept closer since their first conversation. "Why'd you choose Palmetto?"

"Brother didn't want me in Chicago."

Neil’s head shot up from the banana he was peeling. "You have a brother?"

Andrew glared as if to say it isn't your turn idiot.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. "All right I get it. Go on. Ask your question."

"And if I think we should be done for the day?"

Neil shrugged. "I can wait."

And he could. With each day spent on the roof, Neil only craved to know more about Andrew. But he liked what they had and wouldn't dare ruin that with his impatience. The roof felt safe in a way the rest of the hospital didn't.

Andrew grunted. “What's with the orange?"

Neil rolled his eyes. "You gave me a hard time for my question and you're asking that?"

"That wasn't an answer."

"And if I just like orange?"

"You're being ridiculous."

They sat in silence for a while before Neil offered up more.

"College colors. Just never outgrew them I guess. They make me feel..."

Safe wasn't the right word. He practically spent all of college categorizing every exit on campus. Like he was a part of something feels wrong too. He left his apartment for class and an ever-changing cubicle in the library. There wasn't a whole lot to be a part of.

But Andrew nodded anyway like he actually finished the thought instead of trailing off into silence. "Feeling is dangerous."

Andrew's words were simple, but Neil could tell from the way he looked at the edge of the roof that they meant something more. It was a confession and an accusation wrapped all into one.

"So is not feeling. What are you supposed to keep living for if everything is grey and I say that as someone who actually likes grey."

Andrew scoffed, but didn’t say anything more.

Even knowing that Andrew had a mysterious estranged brother couldn’t make Neil break the silence. It wasn’t that he was afraid of pressing too far. Andrew wouldn’t let him. But he knew what it’s like to feel exposed and Andrew had already shared more than usual today.

They sat in comfortable silence until a pager goes off.

Neil wasn’t sure what the others think about the two of them.

The hospital chaplain with her oddly died hair likes to smile at him whenever she came to their floor. He thought she might be friends with Andrew, but he didn’t really care what she thought as long as she stayed out of his way.

Matt complained that he never got to eat with his new buddy anymore, but Neil wasn’t sure the rest of them even noticed.

They must have though, because their friendship was no longer confined to the roof. There were conversations in the hallways, extra food left in the break room that Neil certainly hadn’t brought himself, jokes cracked in the locker room when only Neil could hear. What they had wasn’t something that could be easily hidden away.

It certainly helped that they shared patients. They could walk down the hallway, a patient between them and debate plans for the zombie apocalypse. 402, Luis Hernandez, was a particular good sport about it, even if he was a bit too moral about the end of the world.

Neil did not have soft spots for patients. He was the epitome of professionalism. But he could admit that he liked how he had an excuse to talk to Andrew longer with Hernandez around.

"You don't have to like your scars you know?" Neil said lightly as he perched next to Hernandez’s bed, grabbing more antibiotic for the man's face. "Don't have to hate them either."

Hernandez gave a half-hearted shrug, clearly trying to stay still while gesturing to the brochures in his lap. "Everyone keeps bringing up plastic surgery."

Neil hummed. “They're going to keep doing that. I'm not saying they're an eyesore or even particularly noticeable.” He uncapped a new jar of ointment. “It’s just easier for them if they can pretend it never happened. No scars. No problem.”

“But that doesn’t mean-“

“I’m not saying it would. People are just good at ignoring what isn’t directly in front of them. And if they’re forced to see it, they have to actually acknowledge you’ve been through some shit.”

"It doesn't change what happened."

“They see something wrong, keep trying to find ways to fix things even if you don't particularly think you're broken.”

"And if I want to be fixed?"

"Then that's on you. You're recovering quicker than we expected. I don't see why you wouldn't respond positively to cosmetic treatment." Neil sighed as he laid down the old wrappings "You've just got to be the one to want it. You've gone through too much to want to start living for anyone else now."

He heard a cough behind him and only barely resisted the urge to whip around. Instead he waited until he’d finished smearing the antibiotic across this section of the man’s chest. He turned to see Andrew leaning easily against the doorframe.

“You’re good to take lunch when you’re done here.”

Neil looked upwards and Andrew nodded.

It took very little time for Neil to finish knowing that Andrew would be waiting for him on the roof.

“Did you seriously believe all that shit you were telling Hernandez?”

Neil looked at his lap where his unopened lunch sat. He suddenly wasn’t feeling particularly hungry. “People always look at the scars. Drove me mad with their staring. Hard to be invisible when you’re this fucking distinctive.”

Andrew snorted. “The scars are the least of your problems then.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Neil felt the weight of Andrew’s stare as it slowly scanned up and down his body. He huffed, wanting an actual answer.

“Are you an idiot?”

“Considering you call me that about six times a week, yes?”

Andrew angled his body toward Neil instead of the steep drop of the roof. “People find you attractive.” He shrugged, “I’d blow you.”

The confession was dropped in the middle of the conversation so easily as if it didn’t send Neil’s entire world spinning. He dug his hands into his legs trying to focus himself in any way he could.

“You like me."

"I hate you," Andrew corrected him, but Neil barely heard him, even as the other men left.

Neil got to work slightly ahead of schedule, rolled his eyes slightly at the night nurse giving him the pedantic recap of today's patients, somehow managing to drone on for ten minutes without saying anything of actual value.

Andrew would be in later, he thought absentmindedly as he washed his hands. They might be able to coordinate their breaks if he was lucky. And you might even be able to convince him at gunpoint that lately he was pretty lucky. (Although that might also be because Matt was managing the schedules and his smile was a bit too knowing.)

Still today shouldn’t be too bad. There was only so much on the burn ward he hadn’t seen before and if they had had new patients, they weren’t any of his.

412's patient was a finnicky older woman who only seemed to be living out of pure spite. She'd been in a few days now and Neil's sharp tongue had done little to endear himself to her. So it was truly a matter of his job security to get in and out as quickly as possible. If he had to hear one more complaint about ungrateful grandchildren or idiot politicians, he would snap.

The television was turned up loud in order to reach the women's bed. Despite insisting her hearing was just fine thank you very much, this meant the news could be heard down the hall. Still, Neil had gotten used to putting his head down and doing his own business.

There were enough signs that he should have known. After all, he knew it had to be interesting in order to keep Linda from complaining about the slight pinch as he repositioned her IV.

He should have heard it before he turned around to see his father's face plastered across the screen with the bold red font "Serial Killer Nathan Wesninski found dead in Baltimore Penitentiary." They'd chosen one of the trial photos as opposed to the mugshot. He looked handsome in his expensive suit with the smile he only pulled out at the business parties that left Neil sore for days.

His feet were moving before he fully registered what the headline read.

It was pure instinct to put as much distance as he could between himself and his father as possible even if it was just the picture.

Neil couldn't hear the clatter as he knocked over one of the vases. He was sure Linda was having a conniption, but he couldn’t hear it. He’s not here anymore.

He was thirteen again. And his father wore a much more dangerous grin, the kind that meant no mercy.

Neil's hands were covered in blood as he dragged his mother to the car. Hands digging into her chest as if he could force her to stay with him.

He was eight and his father had crossed the line that was even too much for his mother.

His hands shook as he tried to thread his own needle. He held the needle with his mouth, trying to thread it with one hand and using the other to force the wound together. There was just so much blood and not enough time.

You can't stop running.

He thought he heard someone calling his name. Too close. He’s too close.

You're never safe.

He darted through the closest door. It was a dead end, but it was out of sight.

When you fight back, do so quietly and quickly. You cannot risk attracting another opponent Abram.

He forced himself into the corner. There should be something here, anything really to block the door. But he didn’t see anything, and he heard footsteps. Resounding thuds against the linoleum floor. They were too close.

And if you can’t run. You hide. You hide until I come get you.

There’s space on the lower shelf. It wasn’t very big, but he’s always been small. It should be just big enough. Neil shoved the folded bedsheets and patient gowns out of the way. He would look out of place, easy enough to find if someone cared to look hard enough, but for now he just hugged his knees to his chest.

Everything felt like it’s moving too fast. His heart was pounding so loudly he’s sure it’s about to give him away. His mind wasn’t even forming full thoughts anymore, just racing ahead of him. He squeezed himself even tighter as if he can force out the emotions.

He only vaguely felt his right hand digging into his left arm over the burn scars. He knew he should stop. He hadn’t picked at them in years, tried not to irritate them more than necessary so they didn’t draw attention to him. But it’s not like it mattered now. He’d be dead soon. He should be worrying about if Abby would be able to find the body and how long it’d take the hospital to notify her since after everything she was still his emergency contact.

He should have tried to think his way out of this.

But he couldn’t get his thoughts to stop for a fucking second. Just one second might be enough to find a miracle. But even if Neil Josten had ever deserved a miracle, he’d used up his share. He’d made it to twenty-six. But now, he was going to die.

He knows it won’t be a painless death. There’s only so much a human body could take, a line at which point the mind can’t comprehend the pain anymore. But Nathan Wesninski knew the line and played it like a violin. He’d want to take his time, really make his son feel every inch of his displeasure. There was no way Neil would be able to contain his screams for long enough to satisfy him. His father would risk getting him out of this hospital if it meant he could take his time.

Neil wouldn’t let himself be taken. To lose consciousness now was to accept a long painful death. He would not leave this hospital, not ever again. He would take a quick painful death over a long painful one any day.

But to get a quick death though he needed to be here. And he couldn’t seem to force himself to be. He kept seeing flashes of other moments.

Blood snaking down toward the drain of their concrete basement. Romero’s fingernails digging into his skin as Lola brandished her knife. His father’s grin menacing and horrible.

It spoke to his terror that he didn’t notice when the door opened.

"Hey." The voice is soft, gentle in a way the Butcher of Baltimore was never capable of sounding even when he was playing pretend as a productive member of society.

Still the sound has Neil's head shooting up, just to be sure. Andrew is standing with his back to the door.

"You're Neil Josten. You're in the supply closet at Palmetto Public Hospital. You're safe." The words wrapped around him like a caress.

It felt less like he was drowning.

Neil still couldn’t move, so he just stared. Stared as Andrew moved forward, every step light, his arms raised in front of him to show his empty hands.

Andrew repeated the refrain as he squatted down near Neil's hiding spot in the linens. His hazel eyes stared into Neil's. They're warm like sunlight, like they could cut through the shadow of Neil's soul.

"It’s over. You're safe. Can you breathe with me?"

Neil didn't move. He couldn’t force his tongue to wrap around the words, couldn’t even decide what the words should be.

"We're going to do this together." Andrew shifted from his squat to sitting cross-legged next to him. He's close to the shelving unit, but he wasn’t trying to force Neil out. Andrew exaggerated his own breathing.

He didn’t know how long they sit there before Neil feels his own breathing falling in sync. They're not deep breaths. Just shallow rasps, but he's trying.

Andrew put his hand out in front of him. "Can I touch you?"

He nodded haltingly.

Neil didn’t move away when Andrew gently cupped the side of his face, running a finger over the puckered skin. “You’re not there.” His voice was soft, but it practically echoed in the small closet.

When Neil nodded this time, it feels more natural.

Neil shifted in his position on the lowest shelf. He wiggled his limbs slowly, taking stock of all ten toes and fingers. He's all in one piece. He's fine.

He didn’t know what Andrew sees in his glance, but he's happy when Andrew backs up so he can crawl out of the shelving unit. "Yes or no?"

He hated how broken his voice sounded. His father wasn't even here. His father was dead. He shouldn't sound so lost.

Andrew's stare was penetrating. "To what? I'm not going to kiss you. You're having a mental breakdown Josten."

Neil bit his lip. That hadn't been what he was thinking of at all. He almost wished he had been, because it would have been nice to just lose himself in the sensation, let his body be consumed with raw need for Andrew until there was no room for fear.

"Just touching you. Leaning on you."

Neil knew Andrew didn't like being touched. It felt wrong to want to envelop himself in Andrew, to even ask knowing that, but he's desperate.

"It's a yes," Andrew said as he settled down again legs extended in front of him.

Neil curled easily against his side, Neil's head resting in the crook of his neck. It's nice to sit there just listening to Andrew breathing, knowing that there will never be a future where Nathan Wesninski will get his hands on this bright spot in his son's world.

"I should be happier."

"Bullshit. There is no should."

"He's dead. He's finally dead. That has to mean something."

Andrew adjusted himself to free one of his hands. He threaded it easily through Neil's hair. "Maybe someday it will. When was the last time you thought about him before today?"

Neil wanted to snap back that he'd never stopped thinking about his father, that every decision he made was just one in a long way of keeping himself safe from Nathan Wesninski and his subordinates. But he couldn't. For the last month or so, Palmetto had felt safe.

He'd spent nights marathoning movies in Andrew's apartment and stolen moments on the roof. He treasured Matt's laughter and the yell of joy at grocery deliveries that was quickly hushed because babies are fickle things that never stop crying. He even thought of Allison trying to convince him to let her take him shoe shopping.

Slowly Neil had built something, something untouched by his father. And then his gloating face had come crashing into it, ruining something even in death.

Andrew took his silence as a sign that he was right. “They come where they aren’t wanted. Doesn’t mean they get to stay.

Neil hummed and leaned more of his weight onto Andrew.

“Do you have any other clothes?”

Neil looked up at him confused.

“You’re not staying here,” Andrew said as if talking to a small child.

Neil pushed himself into a standing position, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet to try to give credence to his protests. “I’m fine. I’ve got a whole shift ahead of me.”

Andrew glared. “I’m taking care of that.”

Neil wanted to call bullshit, but he didn’t.

He let himself be manhandled into the locker room where Andrew tossed him some clothes. The black sweats are too short, but the sweatshirt hung comfortably off him. The grey material smelt like Andrew, so he hugged it tighter to himself as he waited for him to get back.

He didn’t jump when Andrew wrapped an arm around him and directed him toward the parking lot.

Maybe he was just done feeling, because he couldn’t even find it in himself to be surprised by the GS Andrew pushed him into. It was much nicer than anything a PT should be able to afford.

They drove in silence. At first, Neil stared out the window letting the surroundings blur as they got on the highway. Eventually though he shifted to stare at Andrew. Neil wasn't sure how long it had been when Andrew finally pulled off the highway into a dingy gas station. The sun had set at some point, but that wasn't much of a clue. Neil didn't even bother to check the clock when Andrew turned the car back on with his hands full of junk food.

"Do you want to go back to your apartment?" Andrew asked as he viciously bit into the twinkie.

"No." The answer was instantaneous even if Neil didn't know why. He should want to go curl up in the far corners of his bed with the door locked and the world unable to touch him. But the thought of leaving this moment, leaving Andrew felt like too much.

He didn't know when Andrew turned into a safe place. Neil was used to standing on his own, but now it felt like he didn't have to. It wasn't just today. Andrew had been there today, but the trust had been building gradually until Neil realized it felt like Andrew could protect him from the world.

"Kevin's going to ask questions."

Neil barely stifled his groan. While he'd only met the man a handful of times, Andrew's roommate was a common topic of conversation on the roof.

"Why do you even live with him if you hate him so much?" Neil asked.

"Don't ask stupid questions." Andrew said his eyes still focused on the road.

Because he's one of yours. Neil thought to himself.

Kevin was Andrew's in a way Neil could never be. Kevin was the person who stayed even after he fulfilled his end of a deal in college. Andrew may complain about his constant nagging, his hypocrisy when it came to Andrew's sweet tooth, his attempts to get Andrew to join his countless intermural sports teams. But at the end of the day, even when Aaron rejected him, Kevin stayed. And for that Andrew would never let him go.

Still the thought of dealing with Kevin’s seemingly endless energy felt like too much right now.

"The hospital's fine. I can get home from there."

Andrew gave him a disparaging look. "Now is not the time Rabbit. Give me the address."

"I'm surprised you don’t already have it. The lock on staff records too hard to break?"

Andrew snorted as he changed lanes.

He still felt rubbed raw from the way he'd broken so easily even if it had been nearly six years since he'd been near his father at all. So he knew Andrew was right, he couldn’t handle other people. He gave his address even as Andrew smirked.

After leaving the safety of the car, he'd ran about eight miles on the treadmill that had certainly seen better days. Typically he'd prefer to run outside and let the breeze carry his worries away from him. But the thought of people made him want to shrink. He'd take the cheap gym with locker rooms that smelt vaguely of mold if it meant he could avoid interactions with all but two people.

He ran to the hospital the rest of the week too. It wasn't worth trying to navigate the subway when he'd be looking over his shoulder the entire way.

Neil wasn't being paranoid. His father was dead. So were Romero and Jackson. Lola and the majority of the minions he'd met were in prison. But there had to be some he hadn't met. People the FBI hadn't even thought to warn him about. He hadn't expected to live this long and if he had to keep one eye over his shoulder, his duffel bag always packed and a new city every few months to keep living he'd do it.

But for now, he had time. He could make the most of his time at Palmetto.

He knew now that Andrew wanted him, and even though he’d never given the thought of kissing much thought before. He was suddenly desperate for Andrew’s lips on his. Andrew made him feel like he didn’t have an expiration date, like the future didn’t actually matter. For someone always thinking three steps ahead, that felt entirely new. But he thought he could get used to it.

Neil had just finished helping Hernandez check out when Dan walked back onto the unit for the first time.

He did a double take at first. He still had three weeks left on his contract and being reminded of just how little time he had left made him grit his teeth.

Typically he’d already have his next location lined up, but Neil hadn’t even sent in his application yet.

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew prolonging the inevitable wasn’t a good idea. Pretending he could stay long enough to memorize the feel of Andrew’s hands on his scars and their mouths pressed together desperately would do him no favors. Neil knew when he started that anything they started had a clear expiration date.

But seeing Dan with her little yellow bundle made him realize how close that date actually was.

Luckily Neil was spared from giving Dan more than a cursory nod due to Allison practically sprinting down the hallway to the front desk.

Allison’s smile was dazzling as she gestured toward the baby. “I’m so glad to see you. Now give me my niece.”

Dan merely rolled her eyes. She looked more tired than the last time Neil had seen her, but also happier. The dark bags under her eyes were matched by a brilliant smile.

When she hesitated to hand her newborn over, Allison put her hands on her hips. "You're in a hospital Dan. It's not like we don't know how to take care of her"

"And when was the last time you did an OBGYN rotation?"

Allison flipped her blond ponytail dramatically. "I'll have you know I could do it any day. I just like you too much to be reassigned."

"And you'd be a bitch to replace. Here." Dan smirked even as she handed over the baby.

"Oh She's absolutely precious, Auntie Allie's going to absolutely spoil you. Yes she is" Allison cooed as she held the newborn.

Dan watched her with a smile. "Randy's a lifesaver, but I'm not about to say no to more babysitters."

"Wait until she's older. I’ve got enough diapers to change as is.”

Dan snorts.

"So when are you back officially then? I need my bestie back."

"I'm still working out the details."

Allison snorted.

Neil busied himself with sorting through the pain medication records for 409, pretending to ignore the weight of Dan's stare.

But Allison had no intention of ignoring it. "You mean we get to keep him?"

"Honestly Al, he's not a stray cat."

"So?"

"And I haven't asked him yet, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't scare him away in the meantime."

"Of Course Dan. I wouldn't dare." Allison smiled again at the baby before announcing that clearly Auntie Allie was the only one who could give a proper tour and that maybe "We'll even find daddy in time for him to change your diaper."

Dan rolled her eyes but wasted none of her newfound baby-free time in waiting to approach Neil.

"I'm so glad I was able to catch you. I've heard nothing but good things about you since you started."

Neil glanced up from the paperwork, but kept his fingers wrapped tightly around the clipboard. "Most of them from your husband I assume."

Dan laughed good naturally. "You’d certainly think so. I swear if I hadn't already cemented myself as his favorite person, I'd be worried."

Neil grimaced.

"But it isn't just him." Dan stepped closer. "How are you enjoying Palmetto Public Neil?"

"It's fine."

Despite his lackluster answer, she seemed undeterred. "I'm glad to hear it, because we've been so happy to have you here. And since we're always short-staffed, I was able to get the board to approve your transition to a full-time position if you want it."

Neil swallowed, a pit already forming in his stomach. "That's-"

"You don't have to give me an answer now. I was just stopping in today and wanted to let you know as soon as possible so you could get your affairs in order."

She smiled so eagerly at him. He almost felt guilty when he said, "No. I'm grateful for the offer and all, but I can't stay."

"Oh." Dan's voice was so small. She looked absolutely heartbroken.

He grimaced again.

"Well, if you change your mind, just know you're always welcome here."

Neil forced himself to turn back to the paperwork to give her a chance to slink away. He wasn't actually reading, probably couldn't even if he tried.

They wanted him to stay.

And that very fact made him want to run until he couldn’t move anymore.

Neil at least stopped himself from running out of the hospital. He went to the roof, where things had always been just a little bit clearer. Maybe if he could just think, he could make his heart stop pounding.

"Why are you being such an idiot?" Andrew's voice was angrier than he'd ever heard him as he slams the door open. "I can't believe you."

"What's there to believe?"

Andrew stalked across the room toward him. Neil knew what angry men could do, but he wasn't afraid not even as Andrew practically spit in his face. "That you're just going to run off again like a fucking rabbit."

"It's better for everyone." His voice sounded empty even to his own ears.

Andrew dug his hand into Neil's shoulder. "Don't give me that shit."

Neil looked at him blankly.

"He's dead."

"So?"

"So stop running."

"I don't know how." The words were small, but he felt the truth in every ounce of his body. He's never had somewhere worth staying or anyone worth staying for.

Abby had tried, tried so much harder than anyone else. But it wasn't the same. He couldn't stop feeling like the scarred boy who'd come into her care determined not to need anyone. And she was all too willing to watch him walk away. He didn't need to stay anywhere to be worth something.

He couldn't explain why this time was different. Why he ached at the thought of never listening to Allison tease him. Why never talking to Matt again made him want to curl in on himself. He certainly couldn't explain why the thought of not being able to laugh with Andrew, not being able to see him every day physically pained him. He needed Andrew in a way he hadn't needed anyone since his mother died.

Neil was desperate for him to understand. "Tell me to stay. You have to tell me to stay."

"Why should I? Nothing will come of it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Neil wanted to scream. Scream that maybe if Andrew just asked he'd be able to. He'd be able to force down all the impulses telling him to run, just like he was able to stop himself from running out of the hospital entirely at Dan's offer. Instead he ran to the roof, where it was safe, where Andrew made it safe.

Andrew pushed him away and Neil already felt himself stepping forward unconsciously, trying to close the distance between them.

"It means I'm self-destructive, not stupid. I'm not going to ask when you clearly don't want to. I won't make you."

I'd never make you.

Andrew didn’t say that, but Neil heard it anyway. Because Andrew never pushed when it came to consent, to wanting this thing between them.

It's why he's so desperate for Andrew to understand now.

"It's always been 'go. It's always been 'lie' and 'hide' and 'disappear'." Neil gestured wildly as if trying to grab the words from thin air. "I've never belonged anywhere or had the right to call anything my own. You can't expect me to just know how to-”

Neil trailed off when he saw Andrew's face. It was stony even to his impassioned plea.

He didn't know how he could fix this. He felt like he was hanging on by a fraying thread as it was. "I'm so tired of being nothing."

"Then stop making yourself be nothing. Let yourself have this."

Neil felt himself floundering even more. "It's not that simple."

Andrew huffed and turned away from him. "I don't have time for rabbits or idiots."

He let the door slam as he left.

Getting through the rest of the day was a blur. Neil just kept thinking about Andrew walking away from him and the rooftop door echoing too loudly as it closed. His apartment was no better.

There was nothing in the little apartment that Neil was renting that looked remarkably like home. He was used to packing his life up in to the grey duffel bag every few months. Nothing he bought couldn’t be replaced at any big box store.

It never really bothered him before.

That wasn’t to say he hadn’t noticed how other people’s spaces seemed to fit them. But he had spent so long trying to blend in that he wasn’t even sure what he could add to make the space feel more like him.

He didn’t have the college pictures to string along his wall like Dan and Matt. He didn’t even have the dime-a-dozen motivational posters that Kevin seemed to favor the few times he’d been to the apartment he shared with Andrew. He certainly didn’t have the wall of books that Andrew kept in his own room.

Up until recently he wouldn’t have cared.

But for the first time in his life, Neil was starting to feel like a real person. A real person was supposed to have something that other people could remember them by, to identify them with. Neil had his job and the scars on his face.

And Andrew. Andrew who didn’t seem to care about either.

If anything Andrew scoffed at the desperation he brought to his job when they both know that you couldn’t save everyone, and that most of the time you couldn’t save the people who deserved it either.

But Neil could see the way he cared even if he didn’t make it his entire personality or guiding force. His chart notes were too detailed. His frown all the deeper when things went wrong. He was too good at his job to not care at least a little bit. And there was no one at Palmetto that could deny that Andrew was brilliant at his job.

While others could look at Neil and see nothing but his injuries, there was a way that Andrew looked at him, his eyes pooling like honey that made Neil feel like Andrew was seeing everything but his scars.

Somehow he even looked happy with what he found.

It made him want to stay, to take that little feeling and nurture it until Neil could see something in himself too. Something worth being happy about.

He sent out three texts one right after the other.

The first was to Andrew. “I’m not an idiot or a rabbit.”

It was simple, but it said everything. Neil wasn’t running from this, wasn’t running from Andrew. Tomorrow they could talk, but for now it had to be enough.

“Can I really stay?”

It was less professional than it should be, considering Dan would be his supervisor if everything worked out. But he didn’t have another way to ask. It felt like pulling teeth to even write those four words.

Neil shouldn’t have turned her down so quickly this afternoon. He should have let himself realize how much he wanted this, realize how forcing himself to move again felt like he was leaving a part of himself behind that he didn’t even know he had before.

But he needn’t have worried. Dan’s reply was practically instantaneous. “Of Course!!!! I’ll make sure to go over all the paperwork tomorrow.”

The last message was one he should have sent twelve weeks ago. It was only his address. But Abby would know what it meant. She always did.

#rbb 2021 #aftg #aftg fic #neil josten #andrew minyard #andreil #andreil fic #hospital au #so many potential triggers so please read bolded list #blood #burns #torture #panic attacks #are the big ones

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braindeadskeletons · 4 years

Note

I'd like to request a matchup of you don't mind! I dunno what to put down so I'm gonna ramble and call it good,, I'm 5'2 [and a half. I'm adamant about that half] and have adhd + severe anxiety! I tend to ramble a lot! I do have haphephobia, which means I hate being touched.i get violent when its not on my own terms or with people I trust. I'm very protective of people I love! I really like stars and bonfires! I'm my friend groups therapist,which I don't mind.I love reading and naps, Thank you!

I saw that you didn't mind two posts being used for the match up- I thought I'd give you more to work with! I have a kitten called sweetpea who's a RAT but she gets away with it! I have a ton of books,everywhere,I'm running out of space. I seem mature when alone but with friends I can and will hop from a giant pipe to a higher up one just to prove I can,scratches or not.I've put a small lightbulb in my mouth and broke it on accident, I felt like this was important to include

Hello! May I just say that I absolutely adore the utter chaos of a human being you are?? Like hello?? You accidentally broke a lightbulb in your mouth?? I appreciate greatly that you told me this but also please explain?? Why was it in your mouth?? How did it break?? Did you just?? Chew?? And didnt expect it to break?? You just had it in your mouth and when it broke you had glass in your mouth looking like: :0

please I'm begging you for a story time wether its dm or on here through submissions/asks for all of us to see and behold

aLSO PLEASE I I DON'T KNOW SWEETPEA BUT TELL THE RAT CAT I LOVE HER THANK YOU

Okay now onto the actual matchup I'm sorry I rambled you literally just left me with so much to think about. These questions will haunt me. I want you to know that. This matchup is a fever dream and I mean that in the best way possible.

I match you with Underswap Sans!

No doubt in my mind that this is your guy. This is a cursed couple. You both frighten people immensely and for you two that is a mission well done. You genuinely bring out both the best and the worst in Sans. On one hand, he has never been happier with anyone! On the other hand, Papyrus suspects that the reason as to why Sans was missing in the ball pit for 72 hours then later retrieved with 24 stolen items in hand was your doing. How did you play a role in this? He doesn't know yet but he'll figure it out.

You think that Sans is innocent? A bouncing blue baby boy man? No. Well yeah, but also no. He seems like a very happy skeleton who just wants to help others, and yeah that's still accurate; but he's also a literal troll. You both can relate to each other due to how people see you as mature at first, which isn't incorrect i'm assuming but you're also capable of utter chaos. Nobody suspects him to do half the chaotic shit he does. He will be the cause of Armageddon. This man single handedly causes the world to end. Normally Papyrus is the one to keep him from doing something chaotic but with you here now? Now it's just utter chaos. If you do something stupid just to prove that you can, Sans is not too far behind to prove that he can also do it but better. Genuinely the worst part of all of this is how Sans has his own motorcycle he rides and he can take you wherever you need to go. Want to go into some obscure area people fear to cause chaos? Sans will drive you no questions asked. He does have some limits however, for example y'know, he'd be immensely concerned if someone broke a lightbulb in their mouth.

----------

You: hehehe

You: hey sans look

Sans: HM?

You: [shoves lightbulb in mouth]

Sans: :0

You, voice muffled: isn't this cool?

[insert shattered lightbulb noises]

You: :0

Sans: OH FUCK

Sans: HUMAN ARE YOU OKAY

You: :00

----------

Whether or not at the end you're shocked about how Sans cursed or you're still in shock about the glass in your mouth is up for interpretation.

Honestly most of the stuff you two do together are your ideas. Sans just really wants to impress you and show you how magnificent he is! So please, of course you two can have fun, but don't completely rot this skeleton's mind. Not that Papyrus would allow that anyways. You both are essentially the Sans protection squad, and you're both very protective and would die for Sans before he got hurt, but Papyrus is the more responsible one out of the two members of the squad. Depending on how you view Papyrus, that can be seen as concerning.

Okay let's actually get serious for a moment here since I got carried away. That's my bad lol. When it comes to physical touch, Sans would typically all for it! However the moment you inform him that you have haphephobia he initially doesn't understand what that is. Once he does the research and understands it'd be totally alright with him! He respects your boundaries and wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable. Sometimes you'll have to remind him since when he's happy his immediate instinct is to hold the person closest to him, but a light reminder is enough to get him to back off again. If you ever want to try and overcome your phobia, he'll be right there. If not, that's okay with him too! He's here to support you no matter what.

It's important to mention that I personally headcanon that this version of Sans also has ADHD. Sooo in terms of usefulness, he's very sorry, but he isn't going to be of much help since he has a lot of the same habits you do. He can offer you some of his fidget toys if you'd like them though, and some pointers as to how he handles having it! Papyrus has gotten him plenty once he was officially diagnosed by Undyne and he's very happy to share! Sometimes both of your conditions lead to hilarious conversations and rambling since you both have that habit. Or just no conversation. Sometimes the two of you will be mid conversation and you both just kinda.

Forget.

You both forget what you were talking about.

In quiet acknowledgment you both just decide to move on to something else and not dwell on it.

However with anxiety, Sans is willing to do anything he can to help you! Would you like something to distract you? Soothing words? He knows that you typically don't like touch, but would it help in this situation? Would you like him to breathe with you? He's trying his best to help you in any way possible and he's there to listen if you need him.

Speaking of listening to each other, Sans appreciates the fact that you listen to people so much. He loves his brother very much but being treated like a child is frustrating, you know? Sans is an adult just like his brother and he has his own worries and problems. He won't like it if you try to treat him like a kid, so please refrain from doing that if you could. He'd greatly appreciate that.

Most of your date nights take place in your own home! Once Sans learned that you had a cat he was immediately determined to become besties with your cat. I'd personally like to imagine that your cat, for whatever reason she might have, doesn't feel the same way. If he ever cat sits it goes a little like this:

----------

You: hey Sans, I'm home! How was sweetpe-

Sans, covered in scratches: SHE WAS GREAT

Sweetpea: >:)

You:

You: o h ?

Sweetpea: >:))

Sans: I FEEL LIKE WE REALLY BONDED TONIGHT

----------

Yeah, it isn't great. But Sans hasn't given up just yet!

For dates Sans tends to take you out to places such as bookstores (a popular location for you two), the movies, restaurants, the park, and then end the night at his place! Alternatively, Sans would love to set up bonfires and a night of stargazing with you! If you'd like him to he could invite a handful of his friends and yours to share the night together with. If not, he's more than happy to sit with you and gaze at the stars as he lists all of the reasons in his head of why he loves you so damn much. These are the moments he loves the most with you. Just spending time together, no one else there to disturb you two and the beauty of the stars above.

#i am 100% serious about the storytime #please i need to know #also i know nothing about sweetpea but i'd die for her #please let her know that #I had a lot of fun writing this!#sorry if it's overly chaotic I just got carried away as always lmao #Underswap #Underswap x reader #x reader #reader #matchup #Undertale Matchup #underswap sans #underswap sans x reader

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allegra-writes · 5 years

Text

Happy birthday, Peter

Peter Parker x Reader

General audiences

Warnings: None

Ok, this isn't a request but today is August the tenth, MCU Peter Parker's canon birthday, so let's have a little birthday Fluff to celebrate! 💜

MY MASTERLIST

“Tony, Fury's here about that new guy he wants you to meet for the new team, Quentin Beck” Pepper's voice interrupted Tony’s obvious staring.

“No-uh, forget it, not happening. I just got out of the hospital a couple weeks ago, after I almost died saving the world from that giant purple raisin. Again. Now this? This is a party. Peter’s party, I refuse to work today” Tony was not having any of that tonight of all nights. He had five years worth of birthdays and holidays to catch up on with his kids, kids he thought he wouldn’t have the opportunity to ever hug or talk or plan parties for, he might add. So Fury could get lost for all he cared.

Besides, he had his own ideas for his super secret boy band 2.0, and he was looking straight at them.

“Now, Miss Potts, if you would be so kind as to come right here and tell me what you think about this” He stepped closer to his wife and gestured at the group of teenagers laughing and chatting on the other side of the room. If he was honest with himself, he had been so nervous about the four of them meeting: What if they didn’t like each other? That would not make his plans impossible but it would certainly put a damper on them. The truth was he should have been nervous about you guys getting along a little too well …

Pepper took a look and immediately paled.

“Oh no, no no no! Tony, no!”

Unbeknownst of the argument ensuing about you, Harley Keener, Cassie Lang, Peter Parker and you continued to laugh at Ned Leeds retelling of the time Spider-Man stole his “arch nemesis”, Flash Thompson's car.

“… Of course now Mister Stark gave you a car of your own, I guess Spider-Man won’t need to ask Flash for his car again”

Peter shook his head,

“I still say I can’t accept it, I’m sorry, y/n, it’s just too much”

“What are you talking about? It’s not even a new car, Happy’s been driving it for years” You said, “Besides, I’m going to need someone to drive me around, you know I hate to do it myself…”

“Is that your way of saying you failed your driving test again?” Harley quipped, casually resting his arm around Cassie’s shoulders. The look the petit brunette gave him had him quickly remove it, however.

“Shut up Keener!” You huffed, “Who needs to drive when you can fly, anyway”

“What else did you get, Peter?” Cassie asked, genuinely interested.

“You mean besides the car and the scholarship?”

“Ooh, my present! You haven’t opened my present yet!” you exclaimed excitedly, placing a closed envelope on Peter’s hands.

“Y/n, you really shouldn’t…” He tried to protest.

“Come on, just open it!”

“Open it! Open it! Open it!” Cassie, Ned and Harley started chanting. Peter tore the paper apart to revel the single, golden ticket inside that simply read in big black letters “Valid for one birthday wish”

“It’ a…”

“It’s a birthday wish coupon” You explained, “Limited time offer, for tonight only. Whatever you want, no consequences, no questions asked. Anything money can buy, and then some. Want to steal a plane and fly to Europe, Have a body you need to hide? I’m your man… well, girl, but you know what I-“

“YOU WANT OUR KIDS TO WHAT?” Scott Lang's voice Echoed through the lake house living room, where the intimate party was taking place, interrupting you.

“I know it seems insane, but so did time travel…” Your dad was trying to explain, with apparently little success, if Scott’s face increasingly redder color was anything to go by. The vein visible on his neck wasn’t looking like a good omen either.

“Think we should go break them apart?” Cassie asked calmly, with the same air of infinite patience laced with resignation that you usually wore around your father yourself.

“Lets go before they break something” You sighed and followed her to the other side of the room, without noticing you were leaving a stunned Peter behind.

“You know what you should use that coupon for, right?” Harley’s voice broke through his daze.

“Whu- what?”

Harley rolled his eyes.

“Come on, dude! No consequences? No questions asked? You should ask her for a kiss!”

“What? No! We’re not… I’m not- we are not like that!”

Harley and Ned exchanged a look.

“I never thought I would agree with this guy, but Harley’s right. Peter, this is your chance!”

“Peter, look” The blond grabbed Peter’s shoulders, “She said it herself, no consequences, she promised. So even if she’s not into you like that, and trust me, she is, you know she’ll still be your friend.”

“Come on, dude, you were thinking the exact same thing! Besides,” Ned finished, “I’m your guy in the chair, I wouldn’t tell you to do it if it was a bad idea”

Peter could feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment, and his eyes with unshed tears of frustration.

“You guys have no idea what you are talking about” He mumbled bitterly, and left.

He just needed to get away, he just needed some air to help him get himself under control again. His friends meant well, he knew it wasn’t their fault. He was the one that never told them, after all. That you guys had already kissed once, right under the illuminated Eiffel tower, the night of the airport fight, a lifetime ago, or at least that’s what it felt like.

And it had been so. Fucking. Perfect. He could still almost taste you on his lips. He had obsessed over that kiss. He had lost sleep, and hunger over that kiss. For weeks. But as soon as you guys had return to New York, it was radio silence. For almost three months he hadn’t heard from you. And when you guys finally started talking again… nothing. Not a single word about it.

Until now, because you had just mentioned it. Indirectly, but you did. That little comment about stealing a plane hadn’t been random: That’s how you guys had gotten to France from Germany that time. You had stolen your father’s self flown jet and took it for a ride with Peter, and that’s where you had ended up, insisting that the real crime would be to take Peter to Europe and not showing him Paris.

It had been a full moon night, just like this one. There hadn’t been that many stars in the sky, because of the city lights, of course. But this, right then, standing at that secluded lake shore, with billions of stars lighting up the night sky, it almost felt like being underneath the tower lights again.

The soft sound of your bare feet on the grass pulled him out of his thoughts. He knew it was you, he always knew. He could tell your heartbeat apart from a crowded room. Hell, from a crowded city. He totally got your father’s favorite nickname for you.

“Hey! Everyone's looking for you,” You said, coming to a stop beside him, toes barely touching the warm water, a welcomed relief on that hot summer night. “It’s almost time to cut the cake”

“If I did wanted to steal a plane tonight, would you really do it?” He asked ignoring your comment. You simply shrugged,

“Where would we go?”

“Paris”, He replied without missing a beat. And you prayed he and his super senses couldn’t hear the way your heart picked up it’s pace with that single word. But of course he did.

He turned around to face you, his mind made up between one of your heartbeats and the next.

“What you said back inside, about no consequences, no questions asked” He inquired, “Did you mean it?”

He took a step towards you, so close now that your chests were almost touching. You wondered if he knew what it did to you having him so close, how you couldn’t think, couldn’t breath. How every inch of your skin stood to attention, ready to be electrified by the slightest touch with his.

You looked up into his eyes, taking a detour at his lips, so close to your own.

“Yes” the breathless whisper was barely audible for your normal human ears, but of course he heard you clearly. He took a final step closer.

“Close your eyes” He repeated your own words from that night at the tower back at you. You didn’t even try to resist his order. You felt him place a finger under your chin, softy tilting your head up for better access, and then the most delicate, exquisite pressure of his lips on yours.

It was too much. It was not enough. You nibbled on his bottom lip, trying to get him to deepen the kiss, and he complied, the little growl that escaped his throat at the first taste of your tongue was by far the sexiest thing you had ever heard in your life. He quickly took control of the kiss, carefully cupping your face with one hand, the other fisting the silk of your dress at your waist, pulling you closer. He almost lost all semblance of self-restraint at the way your body melted into his. You couldn’t do more than submit to his assault on your lips, than submit to him.

“Wow. Is anyone timing this? I'd swear they should've had to come out for air by now” One of the three figures watching the scene unfold from behind the glass windows of the lake house asked, confused. "They'll pass out from lack of oxygen!"

“Peter won’t pass out,” decided Harley, “superhuman and all that…”

“She can pass out”

Cassie snorted,

“I’m sure he can give her some mouth to mouth”

“You mean more than he’s already giving her?” it was Harley’s turn to snort.

Ned turned away from the window.

“So,” He began, a little dumb struck, “that happened.”

“Is still happening” corrected Harley, cheekily. Ned ignored him,

“You think they’ll finally get together now?” he asked.

“No way,” Harley scoffed.

“Yeah, those two have been pining for each other for so long, I don’t think they know how to function without it” Cassie sentenced, eyes still on the lake outside.

Ned sighed,

“You’re probably right. Tomorrow they’ll most likely be back to their stumbling, blushing selves. I swear, they are going to be getting married and still be like “Do you think she likes me? Like, like like me?”” He pitched his voice higher in a remarkably good impression of his best friend that had his new ones cracking with laughter.

“Hey, kids!” Tony Stark came up to them, frowning “Have you seen Peter and my daughter? It’s almost time for the cake… What are you looking at?”

The three teens jumped away from the window at once,

“NOTHING!!”

The End.

#peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfic #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #happy birthday peter parker

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bubblyani · 5 years

Text

Daring Effort

(Lucifer Morningstar x Reader)

A Lucifer Morningstar One Shot

Request by: @kittenlittle24 (thanks hun😘)

Rating: Mature (18+) NSFW

Author’s Note: Happy to say this was my very first Lucifer request. Thank you so much once again for that. Hope you all enjoy it!

You could see it. You could see the way they all looked at him. It was as if desire was so strong, their gaze had their intentions written on it.Those intentions were brighter than the all the flashing lights combined , they were louder than the loudest music that was played. But in the end of the day, you could not blame them. For he was Lucifer Morningstar: the man who literally attracted pure desire with every step he took. In tonight’s case, every step of LUX.

“You okay?”

Dr. Linda Martin’s concerned inquiry made you turn to her with a warm smile. You adored Lucifer’s therapist.The fact she was one of very few people who genuinely cared for him, really touched you. So you were more than happy to find her at the club that night.

“Uh huh!” You nodded, taking a huge sip of your cosmopolitan.

“Somehow I don’t believe you” she said, watching you carefully as you looked back at Lucifer. It was another night, and business was indeed flourishing. You could tell that he seemed to have his hands full in the midst of some attractive women, dressed in attire that had the sole intention of seducing the irresistible Club Owner. Every giggle, every touch you translated with ease. If inhibitions left them, you were sure to find them drooling without limits.

“You’re not the jealous kind Y/N...” Linda’s voice filled your ears.

“You’re right...” you replied, “I’m not...”

Your eyes remained glued to them through the crowds, “It’s just that...” looking back at the doctor, you chuckled with embarrassment , “I’m sorry...I don’t wanna make you feel like you’re on the clock again doc...”

“Please...it’s fine. And it’s Linda!” she assured, making you smile once again. Taking a deep breath, you began:

“Well...take a look at all those women...” you said, pointing at them “I mean...they all look so...adventurous and seductive...” you continued, “Clearly they are capable to bringing some spice and... clearly that’s his type...” you said, voice growing soft so you could lean towards her ear, “I’m worried I’ll bore him and drive him away...I know it’s so silly but...you know how he is-”

“And you know how he is not the type to fall in love so easily. But he did with you” she said, pointing her index finger at you, “Now I think that’s an achievement”

She was a damn good therapist, and you never dared to disagree.

“You’re sweet, Linda...” you said, smiling with relief.

But still you knew, you were not in love with someone typical. For a second you wondered, were you ever described as daring at all? Have you ever felt that?

You really wished you had, and you would have done anything to show him that. To intrigue him for a change.

“So...” you were both startled when Lucifer suddenly appeared beside you, “What are you ladies chatting about?”

“Eh you know...stuff...” you struggled with an answer, compensating with a smile. Linda nodded in agreement, allowing his eyes to widen.

“Oh? Well this ‘stuff’ sounds quite intriguing...” He said enthusiastically, “now come on...”

“Lucifer!”

“Amber! Ah-”

One from the keen group of women from earlier jumped over to him, leaving him no choice but to catch her in his arms out of concern , “Where did you go?”

Chuckling nervously, Lucifer quickly looked at you. And you had nothing but cool smiles to display. Watching other women flirt with him was never new.

“He just found some new company...” you replied, as if he wanted you to speak on behalf of him. The woman looked at you with disgust.

“Right...” she said coldly, turning away from you “...oh Lucifer!” Her enthusiastically immature voice sprung out of nowhere, “I thought you’d have some time for me instead” Amber said, making your eyes roll when she pressed herself against him, “I can even do that thing you like...” voice changing into a whisper, her lips moved next to his ear. Confidence adorned her face, eyes focusing on your, hoping to send you a message. And you were so done with that.

Setting your empty glass down with a bang, you surprised everyone as you slid off the bar stool.

“Excuse me, I’m gonna get some air...” You said, “later Linda...” patting the Doctor’s shoulder, you left the table without any acknowledgment of the other two.

“So? What do you say?”

Watching you walk over to the elevator, Lucifer was confused and speechless that he almost did not hear Amber’s seductive invitation. Chuckling, he looked at her.

“Darling, as much as your offer seems tempting...I currently find myself quite immune to everyone’s charms...except one...” he said, before leaving the table.

“What?” She exclaimed, getting up “Luci-”

“Uh huh...” Linda said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you...” she said, taking a sip with a relieved smile on her face which contrasted from Amber’s disappointed one.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Little did you realize that your mere attempt to get away from a temptress, was rewarded when Lucifer blindly followed you into the elevator.

“You ditched Linda?”

You asked with genuine concern as the doors closed.

“Well If she is currently chatting up her favorite bartender, then I believe I did her quite a favor” he said, standing next to you.

“And what about your curious friend?”

You asked, regretting it instantly. You were not the jealous type. And here you were, letting yourself down.

“A mere obstacle to my real target...”

That low tone suddenly gave you chills. He never could stop being irresistible. Chuckling, you looked up,

“Oh how wonderful you are with words....”

“No wonder you love me...”

“Yeah I do..”

The moment you admitted it, the pairs of eyes made contact, bringing forth silence.

“Did I tell you how ravishing you look in that dress?” His seductive tone made you face him, giving him access to the black silk wrap around dress with a plunging neckline.

“No...” you answered,“did you just notice?”

“On the contrary...” he said, taking a step towards you, “I’m afraid I had a sudden awakening from the moment I saw you this evening...”

You chuckled, “ I find that hard to believe after I what I saw tonight ...”

“Ooooh....Jealous?” He smiled. You shook your head casually,

“No”

“Hmm?”

Ding! The elevator doors opened just after. Lucifer definitely expected more of a reaction, especially with the way you behaved downstairs. So it was no surprise he was clueless as you walked into the penthouse.

“Y/N... are you okay?” He asked.

“Yes...Yes I’m fine” you replied as you kept walking. Only to to pulled back by the arm to face him.

“Y/N...” he said . Eyes widened, you shook your head, “Oh no...not that again” you groaned as he began:

“What worries you so much right now?”

Those eyes pulled you in as your ears were drowning in his voice. The truth was being fished out of you, and you had zero control whatsoever.

“I’m worried that I’m boring you in bed!”

You covered your mouth in shock soon after. Breaking his gaze, Lucifer let go of his grip.

“What?” He asked. You sighed deeply, for you couldn’t get away now.

“Do I..” you began, “do I bore you?....sexually?” You asked leaning against the piano. Scoffing, Lucifer looked at you with amusement.

“No! never...I have nothing but fond memories of you wrapped around me” he said, making you blush as his arm reached out to your waist. As much as his words seemed comforting, you moved away, proceeding to walk over to his bedroom.

“Come on...Like...think about it, you’re Lucifer freakin’ Morningstar...” you exaggerated, when he followed you, “...but you’re in an exclusive relationship with...me...”

“Yes I am...and I’m happy to shout it from the rooftops” he said, watching you sit on the bed.

“Which I appreciate,” you said, giving him a look of adoration, as he sat next to you “but don’t you think you deserve someone more ...than I am?”

“Y/N...” Lucifer began softly, “have you forgotten all that we have gone through? You’ve given me a reason to love when I thought I could never love at all...what more could I ask for?”

“Exciting Sex??” You got up, frustrated, “admit it...you’re human”

“ Darling, I assure you I’m not” he said, his eyes never leaving you when you walked over to the side of the bed.

“Yeah Yeah ...you’re the devil, as you always tell me...” you said, with your hands on your waist “Doesn’t that make it more necessary? All those women out there, ready to give you anything, all those fantasies. I’m afraid I’m not in touch with that” you said, gently rubbing your stomach nervously, “Like what am I doing wrong? You know?”

“Nothing! you’re not doing anything wrong” Lucifer shook his head, as his words were filled with reassurance.

“You may say that but I can tell.” You said, with your hand mindlessly playing with the knot of your dress, “Maybe...” you paused, upon catching his eyes on your dress, especially when you held on to the knot.

“Maybe I should be more ...creative”

Pulling the ends, you watched him hold his breath as the knot loosened.

“Yes, it wouldn’t hurt...” he breathed. As the dress began to unwrap itself, you read his eyes. They spoke out of a need on their own, and it surprised you. But it also empowered you most of all. Reading his hunger and thirst, you wondered if you really have that power over him? Was it just untapped all this time?

“Exactly...I need to be more daring. I don’t know. Maybe...tease you every now and then” you giggled, “like right now?”

A loud exhale left his lips when he watched you open the silk material. Cool evening air caressed your bare skin as the dress fell on the floor, pooling around your heels, leaving you to stand before him in just your panties.

Funny how one minute you were thriving in insecurity, and suddenly you were nowhere near it.

“My my...” Lucifer’s eyes twinkled, “You certainly learn fast” he purred.

“That or I’m just inspired...” you said, placing one knee on the bed. As if you were spellbound, you got on all fours, crawling across the bed towards him. When you crawled, you did with commitment. You imagined yourself to be best at it. You dove into whatever imagination you considered was wild, and soaked in it. And you were certainly motivated thanks to his expressions of satisfaction.

“Oh my...”

Pleased with his response, you moved over to his lap, straddling him with ease.

“You know...” you began, “I’ve always wanted to do that ...” you continued with a chuckle , “How did I do?”

“Oh...” Lucifer said, his hands slowly moving towards your frame, “beyond my wildest expectations, love...oh!”’

Biting your lip, you held onto both of his hands, pinning them back down to the bed. Daring imagination was coursing through your veins, overjoyed and mad with creativity.

“Hmm...is this Prada?” You asked, pointing at his white shirt.

“Why indeed it is darling”

“Funny how I never paid more attention to it before...” you said, taking his arm , “like how it feels on one’s skin...”

“Well I’m not trying to promote it, but it certainly does feel very comfort-”

“No, I mean....on my skin...” you said, holding his arm close to you, “when it...touches me...ah!” you moaned, as his sleeve brushed against your chest. The brand certainly was full of quality, for it did wonders as the crisp material made contact with your bare breasts, giving your sensitive nipples some needed attention resulting them to stand upright. When you saw his hand clench, you felt the frustration for you discriminated it from the experience, giving only his sleeve the privilege.His hand hoped it would have it’s turn. But instead, your pleased expression suddenly disappeared.

“What’s the matter?” Lucifer sounded concerned as your eyebrows furrowed.

“Something is getting in the way”’ you said, leaving his lap quick as a cat. You heard his groans of disappointment as you stood up.You would be lying if you weren’t pleased by that effect.

“What is it? Anything I can assist with?” Lucifer asked. Turning your back towards him, your fingers slowly dug into the waistband of the remaining piece of clothing that was your panties.

“Aha! This is it!”

Bending low, your hands gingerly pulled down your panties. Given your partners vocal response, you knew you did a good job presenting him a generous view of your throbbing slit from behind.

Entirely naked, you walked over to him with a newfound confidence, straddling him once more. A gasp exited your lips the moment the bare skin surrounding your damp opening brushed against the material of his trousers.

“Oh...so so much better...” you purred. With the close, personal view he was indulging in, Lucifer allowed his body to be awakened completely.

“No wonder this is so expensive...” you added, “the pleasure it gives is indescribable”

“You’re indescribable Y/N...” he breathed, making you blush slightly.

“Thank you...” you replied, maintaining your confident persona. Though you managed to do so, your eyes failed you, locked in his lustful gaze. Breathing in sync, there was nothing better to do but to kiss. And by force of habit, Lucifer leaned forward to initiate it.

Except you responded by rolling your hips against him instead.

You leaned back, hands resting on his knees, as you continued to roll and grind yourself against his growth. The friction between the trouser and your slit created heat and signals that traveled all over, you couldn’t help but moan out loud. Eyes locked in still, it felt daring to the core. For never have you done this before. But you stuck to it. In fact, you enjoyed it. Why wouldn’t you when you felt as if he was at your mercy?

Watching you with desperation, he pressed his lips together, seemingly frustrated that they were deprived of savoring every inch of your skin which included the erect buds that rested on your heaving bosom. He was teased for sure.

“Someone is definitely keen I could tell...” you said.

“Oh yes..he is ...” Lucifer said, moving forward to kiss you.

“No-I mean this guy!” You contradicted, getting down on your knees to indicate his clothed erection.

Resting safely between his legs, your manicured fingers carefully pulled down the zipper, digging inside to pull out his shaft that was pleased to be noticed. Breathing heavily, you wondered why you never done this before.

“Ohhh ...” You purred, gazing lustfully at it “Hello Mr. Morningstar...I’ve been dying to meet your enthusiast self”

You heard Lucifer chuckle low with pleasure, impressed by your genuine creativity.

As if it was your first encounter, your fingers were gentle; running up and down over it, making him wince to your surprise.

Truthfully you were no stranger to this inserted inside you; but tonight you certainly took your time to appreciate it. Your mouth began to water by the look of it, and by the thought of who owned it. You were indeed more than happy to show your appreciation.

You showered every inch of it with gentle kisses. The fact he barely spoke but merely gasped aroused you even more. Those kisses proceeded to grow longer and slower, indulging to its maximum. And by the last kiss, your tongue was let loose, allowed to give licks that were generous and ended at the tip; where you finally were fueled with greed to let your mouth engulf it whole. He was delicious, as he was everywhere else, fitting inside of you with equal intensity. Salivating, you were more than Well lubricated as you began to pull it in and out of you in rhythm.

“...bloody hell!” He moaned, reaching out grab you by the hair, running his fingers through it while you tasted him.

“Ah Y/N....”

You wished you could have reciprocated in calling his name, but when you were doused in heaven, you did not bother.

The moment he cried out in a manner you were familiar with, when you finally felt your mouth grow warm with fluid, you knew his climax had made it’s appearance. Throwing his head back, Lucifer recovered as you swallowed his release, proceeding to lick away the remaining evidence of your affection carefully and attentively. When suddenly you looked up to find him watching you not with any sense of objectivity, but with admiration.

“I got to admit Y/N darling, you certainly deliver” He panted with a smile.

“Well I’m glad you’re satisfied ” you said, stroking his shaft lovingly.

“Oh...more than satisfied”

Before your eyebrows raised with curiosity, he kissed you, finally. Lucifer kissed you with enough passion that was suppressed all this time. He kissed you deep, tongues embraced and made love on their own. He kissed you fully, that he could taste himself in you, leaving you hypnotized.

With a gasp, you felt yourself lifted as Lucifer flipped you on to the bed. Lying on your back with legs pressed together, your hands explored oneself by the sight of him standing before you.

“Now ...” he said, while unbuttoning his shirt. Your giggles signaled your evident excitement.

The moment he began to unbutton his shirt, your giggles hinted your evident excitement.

“Now...” he said,

“I think this daring effort deserves...an A plus!”’

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