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zayneternal · 2 months

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☾ Midnight Ties ☽

summary ↠ When Deepspace Hunter, Mina Osaki, finds herself unable to sleep in the cold and quiet of the N109 Zone Safehouse, she instead runs headfirst into the one person who puts her most on edge--and this time, he's injured. [Main Story Spoilers | References to "Midnight Stealth" Memory]

genre ↠ angst (mild moments of fluff) with him↠ Sylus warnings ↠ Long Awaited Reverly Spoilers word count ↠ 13.4k

I’m unsure what jolts me from sleep. Then again, it’s far from the first time I’ve woken in the midnight hours over the last few weeks. I can’t really say I’ve ever been sure of why sleep eludes me here.

Sitting up in the too-big bed made up of too-soft sheets, I rub my knuckles against my eyes, willing them to adjust to the darkness of the cold and quiet bedroom. I’ve lost track of how many days it’s been since I arrived back to this place, but this part of the routine is one of the few reliable parts of my day, for better or worse.

I huff out a breath, debating on if I should fall backwards onto the mussed sheets of the massive mattress and try to close my eyes once again, but the idea of staring at the back of my eyelids in this deafening silence sounds like the worst form of torture. Instead, I kick my legs over the edge, flinching at the feeling of the ice cold marble floor against my bare feet.

Would it kill someone to turn the heat up in this place? Even as the thought enters my mind, I scoff to myself, knowing the head of this household probably would kill someone for even attempting it.

Hesitating by the bed for a moment, I glance down at my sparse attire of cotton shorts and a mismatched tank top, wondering if I should find an extra layer to don. Then I recall how unnervingly empty this place becomes at night and decide against it. It’s not like there’s ever anyone to pass by in the lengthy hallways this late…or is it early? I never know.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I set towards the large mahogany door of the bedroom, snapping the lock open before pulling the heavy wood backwards. I’m not sure why I bother to lock the door–it’s not as if it would truly keep him out if his mind was set on entering. Maybe it’s because some stubborn part of me doesn’t want to make it too easy on him…or maybe I’m a little too reliant on the extra measures of boundary between the two of us.

Shaking my head of the thought, I pull the door closed behind me and step into the long hallway lined with many other doors identical to my own. I’ve not been inside most of them, but I imagine they’re more spare rooms, though as to who they’re for, I don’t know. The occupants of this residence have a tendency to make themselves quite scarce. And who could blame them?

The light in the hall is dim, giving me just enough illumination to help avoid bumping into the various vases and vanities that line the corridor. I hate how quiet it gets here, especially on the nights I’m unable to fall back to sleep and end up wandering to find something to occupy my mind. It’s like I can almost hear the air whispering next to my ears. It’s drives me crazy.

Luckily, I make it to the end of the hall just before the raging silence threatens to overwhelm me, and turn right into the open floor plan of the main living space. There are windows here that line one of the walls, overlooking the vast expanse that is the N109 Zone.

My first night here, I remember the view being somewhat deterring, what with the abandoned buildings littering the skyline and the ever-present darkness shrouding the seedy city life bustling far below. But as the nights progressed and sleep came few and far between, I found myself coming to these windows more and more often, surprisingly intrigued by how the view had morphed.

I silently shuffle towards the large length of cushioned sofa that curls around the living space, it’s end jutting up to the window, and curl myself against it. Allowing my head to fall sideways against the back of the couch, knees drawn to my chest to preserve what little warmth there is in the air, I gaze across the N109 Zone, languidly taking in the sights. It’s fascinating how differently I see the world below me now.

Where I once saw what were shady business dealings in the back alleys beneath, I now see citizens of the zone coming home to family at the end of a long day. Where I once saw destitute and rundown infrastructure, I now see life budding out of something once broken–I see people. A community. If I train my ears just right, I can even hear the jubilation of music and laughter spilling out of what I assume is a local pub on the street below.

The N109 Zone is still a treacherous place for the wrong people–it certainly was for me before he offered me respite in his own twisted way–but the longer I stay, the more I see what was once black and white as more gray and muddled. There is also good to be found here.

I begin to slip into a comfortable lethargy as I continue to watch the city breathe when I suddenly hear a loud shuffling at the door behind me.

Swiftly whipping my gaze from the window to the door across the room, I hug my knees tighter as it swings open, revealing a very familiar silhouette in the darkened doorway.

“Shit–” he hisses in a way that sounds like he’s struggling to keep quiet. His towering frame falters as he steps forward, tilting to the side before he catches himself messily on the open door.

I hold my breath, squinting in the low light to see his right hand stretched against the left side of his abdomen, pressing something against it. He regains his composure once more, lifting off the door long enough to turn and slowly close it behind him.

I don’t speak as he starts to move again. I can’t tell if he knows I’m there, and for some reason, I don’t bring myself to reveal my presence just yet. Instead, I watch as he attempts to make for the kitchen that sits against the opposite wall of the open room. He manages to get to the edge of the island counter before his weight gives way again and he slumps against the smooth surface.

“Damn it,” he curses through gritted teeth, trying to keep quiet again. My eyes widen as I suddenly realize he must be injured. The hand clutching his ribs, the slight limp to his walk, the way he can’t seem to hold himself upright. What happened to him?

I’m aware that the midnight hours in the N109 Zone are when the the work day is just beginning for groups like Onychinus. Dealings within the illegal crime organizations here are much livlier at night. And that’s doubly true for the household of Onychinus’ leader. As frustrating as it’s been knowing what goes on here at night as someone sworn to protect innocents from threats just like Onychinus, the circumstances of recent months have seemed to trump that mission for now.

A low grunt of pain sweeps me back into the present as the hunched figure in the kitchen pulls himself around to a cabinet pressed against the fridge. He moves to lift his hand to open the dark wood door but winces before he’s even raised it halfway up, yanking his arm back to his side. The faint moonlight filtering in through the windows illuminates the pained look of his sharp profile.

The sound of him trying to stifle his groans of discomfort spurs me from my hidden spot in the dark.

“Sylus.”

My soft voice feels swallowed by the darkness and size of the space, but Sylus reacts to the sound instantly, his frame straightening to its full height and his gaze whipping to find me at the edge of the island. He appears confused, then annoyed, nostrils flaring slightly in the moonlight that casts soft shadows along his cheeks.

It seems like I’ve managed to catch him off guard for the first time since we’ve met. His reaction surprises me in return, and I pause a few feet away from him, my weight shifting a bit nervously. He always has a way of making me a bit nervous.

Just as quickly as the confusion and annoyance pass over his defined features, they are gone again, replaced now with that air of cool arrogance he’s managed to perfect. His arched brow twitches, the corner of his mouth twisting into the shadow of a smirk I’ve come to know so well.

“It’s a little late to be wandering the halls, don’t you think, kitten?” The sultry lilt to his deep voice rumbles across the space between us, but I can hear the slight tension lying just beneath the surface of his words, as if he’s struggling to appear put together when, really, he’s in pain.

“You’re hurt,” I state, ignoring his attempt to divert the situation. And ignoring the gooseflesh that threatens to bubble under my skin as his piercing red gaze locks me in place. I have to admit it’s still a bit of a struggle to keep my half of the control in these interactions with him, as much as I’ve tried to grow accustomed to his unique persona.

Sylus’ mouth twists again as he breathes out a huff of laughter. “You do realize who you’re talking to, don’t you, sweetie?” A flash of his perfectly lined teeth cuts across the darkness. “Or do you not recall the events of the first time we met?”

I do recall. It seems an impossible moment to forget. The sound of the trigger going off against where Sylus had held it against his chest echoes in my mind and I wince. Glancing down to where the corner of his pectoral peeks out between the opened buttons of his black top, I remind myself that there’s no injury to be seen anymore. Only perfectly smooth, pale skin that sits atop the rippling muscle.

Shaking my head of yet another attempt at distraction, I press myself forward, daring to take a few steps towards him. “I saw you come in,” I admit. “You can barely hold yourself up.”

“I can assure you, I am perfectly fine, Miss Hunter,” he says, low and slow, his eyes remaining fixed intently on my person.

“Then you won’t mind if I just confirm that for myself, will you?” I feign an innocent look, scrunching my brows in a slightly dramatic show of concern. I hope by keeping the interaction light, he won’t notice how real my concern is.

The cocked grin on his lips falters ever so slightly, but it doesn’t go without me noticing. He’s certainly confirming something, and it’s not that he’s “perfectly fine”.

I watch as his hand falls away from his side and his arms open in front of him, gesturing down his body. That infuriating smirk is firmly fixed in place. “Help yourself, sweetie.”

I chew the inside of my cheek, throwing my usual reservations about getting close to him to the wind. My worry for what has him stumbling around in the dead of night trumps my boundaries right now. Steeling my nerves, I close the remaining few feet between the two of us, bare feet padding towards his large figure.

I can feel his electric gaze burning holes into me as I approach, but I keep my eyes fixed on his torso, irises flitting from his broad shoulders, down the length of his pale forearms, over the expanse of his open palms, and across the plane of his narrow waist. At first look, nothing seems amiss, his composure remaining intact. Squinting slightly in the dark, however, I notice how the rise and fall of his breaths is uneven and labored, and he’s favoring his weight on his right leg.

I reach my hands forward. “What do you think you’re doing?” Sylus questions, his voice betraying him with a hint of worry.

“Helping myself,” I counter cooly, willing my nerves to remain strong as my fingertips find purchase on the top button of his slightly askew dress shirt. To my surprise, Sylus allows me to continue without even the slightest step backwards, his arms hanging at his sides.

I move slowly, hoping my fingers aren’t shaking as much as I feel like they are as I deftly undo button after button. I try not to stare too long at the line of muscled skin that begins to reveal itself down his torso.

Swallowing dryly, I finally push the two halves of his black button down to the sides, eyes widening with a soft gasp as I take in what I see. The shirt had been covering exactly what I’d feared.

The left side of his ribs are in a sorry state, a semi-deep gash curling around the length of his waist, mottled with a mix of dried and fresh blood, as if the pressure he’d been providing couldn’t staunch the flow. The usually perfectly pale skin surrounding the wound is blossoming with fresh bruises of deep plum. Whatever caused this injury had to have been packing quite the punch.

What worried me most, though, was the fact that these wounds didn’t seem to be healing. If Sylus could survive a gunshot to the chest by my own hand, then what was the holdup with the self-healing this time?

“Sylus!” I manage to exclaim in a strained whisper. My hands move to hover over the wound as I rack my brain for any useful piece of the medical training I received in the Hunter’s Academy. I know I at least needed to clean the gash first.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” I hear Sylus breathe from above me. I can tell he’s trying to quell my worries, but I don’t imagine a wound like this feels any better than it looks.

Slight annoyance from somewhere unknown suddenly pricks my chest. I shoot my eyes up to find his face already bent to watch me. Looking up at him from this close, I can feel each of his exhales fall against my mouth, but I push that realization aside and scrunch my brows at him.

“What happened? Where were you? Who did this?” I begin to rattle. My eyes flit back and forth between his, searching his face for any answers he might provide. At the other end of my questioning, Sylus’ expression slowly morphs into a rare sight. The usual facade of arrogance and control slips away to reveal something unusual. Sylus almost appears…sincere.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were worried about me, kitten,” he says softly, his hand raising to reach towards my face before stopping halfway and slowly dropping, as if he second-guessed whatever he was about to do.

“I am!” I assert, hands gripping the two halves of his open shirt so tightly I realize my knuckles are going white. Sylus’ expressions stutters, the seriousness in my tone giving him pause. I sigh. “Can we please cut the big bad mafia boss act for a second? You need bandaging before this gets worse.” I shake my head, staring at the injury again. “Why hasn’t it started healing on it’s own already?”

Sylus studies my face a moment longer, his usually intense gaze softening as it passes across my features.

“Would you believe me if I told you this is already better than it started?” His voice has a hint of humor to it, as if he’s still trying to ease my concern. Instead I find myself flinching against the idea that this isn’t even the worst of it. How badly had he been hurt tonight? How much effort had it taken him to get home?

I want to swat at his chest, but for fear of causing him any more pain, I restrain myself.

“Mina…” Sylus starts, and the way he utters my name instead of one of his many rotating pet names sends a shiver down my spine. But I refuse to waste anymore time.

“Lean against the counter,” I instruct, sounding more like a Hunter than the helpless girl I’ve been these past few minutes. Sylus breathes and slowly moves to the side, leaning against the marble countertop obediently. “I’m taking this off.”

I move my hands to the base of his neck, slipping my fingertips under the collar of his dress shirt and attempting to ignore the warmth of his skin in this freezing kitchen as I begin to push the fabric down his toned arms. To my surprise and great relief, Sylus remains silent for once allowing me to work without much distraction.

The pads of my fingers brush down the length of his muscled arms, following the trail of his shirt until it’s bunched at his wrists. “Your hands, please,” I request, carefully avoiding eye contact as I hold my own hands up.

As requested, Sylus gently places hands twice the size of my own in my palms, allowing me to undo the cuffs keeping his top from sliding off completely. After pulling the sleeves away from his body, I move to yank the remainder of the shirt from where it’s tucked messily into the waistline of his trousers. Without me asking this time, Sylus raises his arms to assist in the task, wincing again when his left arm agitates the injury.

Nodding in silent appreciation, I wrap my arms around the shape of his hips, giving him a wide birth, and being careful not to get as close as his cologne is causing me to want. Gripping the last of the black fabric and pulling, I’m relieved when it comes lose easily and falls away to the floor.

“Where will I find a first-aid kit?” I finally ask once his torso is bare. I realize I’m looking around the room to avoid looking at him.

“There.” His slender finger comes into my peripheral vision, poiting towards the cabinet he had originally been trying to open. I nod and turn to open it, feeling his eyes on me the entire time. As I begin to sift through the rows of various medicine bottles, syringes, and vials full of strange liquid, I’m suddenly strikingly aware that I never changed out of my sleepwear and are still donned in nothing but cotton shorts and a tank top.

I bite your lip, silently cursing to myself as my search continues through the cabinet. There’s not much I can do about it now, I suppose, but knowing I’m under the scrutinizing gaze of Sylus every second of this venture, I feel a mite over exposed.

Finally, I discover a box of antiseptic, gauze, and painkillers and pull it from the cabinet. When I turn back around, Sylus remains leant against the counter, looking sinfully good in the low light of the darkened kitchen. My breath hitches, knowing I’ve made the mistake of taking in his full figure so present before me, but it becomes harder to avert my gaze every time I see him.

It’s been one of the biggest frustrations of coming back to the N109 Zone. But once I discovered the intrigue of Sylus and my Evol linkage and the strange connection of our Aether Cores, it was an unavoidable trip. The last few weeks, Sylus and I have been seeing a lot more of each other, researching everything we can about what our linkage could be and how to control it. It seemed a little too late when I finally realized my growing nerves and the tension between us might not be from fear anymore. A realization I’ve been more than happy to continue shoving to the depths of my mind. I’ve had more important fish to fry lately.

I find it hard to swallow as Sylus and I stare at each other, time frozen for a moment. He leans his hips leisurely against the island, legs crossed at the ankles, his palms holding him upright as they rest against the counter behind him. The position he’s in presses his shoulders apart, making them appear even broader than normal, his forearms pusling with the veins that ripple under his skin.

His face is ethereal, bathed halfway in moonlight and halfway in shadow, the silver locks of his mussed hair falling in silk ribbons across his forehead. And his eyes. Oh, those eyes. Red and depthless and intense and all trained directly on me. I forget to breath as I take in his half-hooded gaze, irises looking lazy and dazed under the fan of his lashes. He looks god-like.

“Something wrong?” Sylus breaks the silence, his words rumbling across the miniscule distance between us. He tilts his head, lips parting slightly.

“No!” I answer a bit too fast. I see the ghost of a smile twitch at the corner of his mouth. “N-No. I found the kit…”

My steps stutter back towards him, nerves hitching higher the closer we become, but one glance at the wound cutting across his ribs and I’m brought back to reality. He’s hurt and I need to focus.

Gritting my teeth, I set the open first-aid kit on the counter next to him and remove the antiseptic and clean cloth, blotting the fabric with the medicinal liquid. “This might sting,” I say gently.

I carefully press the cloth against the edge of the bloody gash, beginning to clean away the majority of the clotted and fresh blood still seeping onto Sylus’ skin. Despite Sylus’ claims that there was no need to worry, he flinches away from the ensuing sting of the cloth with a stifled moan. The noise is enough to make my stomach tighten.

“Careful, kitten,” he tuts through grit teeth, hands gripping the edge of the counter.

“I told you it might sting.” I start to smile, finding it a little ironic that the big bad leader of the most well-known crime orginazation in the N109 Zone is brought low by the sting of antiseptic.

“There’s nothing funny about this situation,” he retorts, sounding almost childlike in his annoyance.

“There might be a little something funny about it.” I shrug and try to stifle the growth of my grin, but it’s harder than I thought. “It’s just medicine, you big baby.”

Sylus groans again as I make another pass, the muscles in his own stomach tensing and untensing. “Usually the use of medicine is unnecessary.” The last word comes out like a strained hiss when the cloth rubs against the edge of the gash.

My smile grows further, the corners of my mouth stretching to their limit. I cough to stop the urge to laugh at him.

“Now that’s a rare sight,” Sylus whispers, the surprised tone of his voice pulling my eyes away from where they were focused on cleaning away more blood.

“What?” I can’t help but ask, tilting my head at his entranced expression. His eyes drop to my lips and linger there a moment longer than they probably should have.

“That smile,” he admits, the hand opposite his injury lifting as if he’s unconscious of it. The back of his lithe fingers slowly brush against the length of my cheek, and my eyes widen at the feeling. He’s so warm. His own lips part and the tips of his fingers turn to glide along the underside of my mouth, his touch almost phantasmal.

In his eyes, I see realization dawn and his hand pauses, hesitantly moving back down to his side, as much as I secretly wish it wouldn’t have. He gazes at me and in his expression is a sort of emotion I can’t quite place. He quickly covers whatever it was with a resigned smile, gentler than his usual controlled smirk.

“I’d like it if you smiled like that more around me,” he confesses. My heart beat turns erratic for a moment.

“I didn’t realize I hadn’t been,” I offer back, clearing my throat and moving back to my earlier task of cleaning the wound. As the blood clears away with each stroke of the cloth, I begin to get a clearer picture of just how deep this wound must have been for this to be the semi-healed version of it. “Sylus, what happened to you tonight?”

The diversion in topic is a slightly welcome respite from the growing tension. I sneak a quick glance at his face and find his gaze trained on the floor, eyebrows knit with thought. He waits a moment as if deciding whether to stop this line of conversation with one of his carefully crafted deflections or reveal the truth. I’m not sure if its the vulnerable air about tonight or whatever trust I’ve built up with him over these past few weeks, but he eventually sighs and speaks.

“It was a new kind of protocore weapon,” Sylus admits, gesturing to his almost-clean wound.

“A new protocore weapon?” I repeat, shocked and intrugied. “What kind of weapon?”

“I’m not sure.” Sylus shakes his head. “One of the business dealings with a former partner that was planned for tonight didn’t quite meet expectations.” He huffs a laugh to himself, as if recalling the events that lead to his injury. I find them anything but humorous but decide not to press the matter.

“Before I could take control of the situation, one of his men blindsided me,” he continues. I feel anxiety well up in my chest as I listen, but I keep quiet, letting him explain as I continue to clear away the last of the dried blood splattering his ribs.

“Normally, a wound like this would be nothing but a trivial moment of pain, but once the dust settled, I realized it wasn’t healing over like usual. The blood just kept flowing. I came back here to find a way to mend it before it got much worse.”

“Sylus,” I breathe out once he finishes. I can feel his eyes return to me though I can’t bring myself to look at him again quite yet. “I know there was no way of you knowing what tonight would bring, but…” I swallow, trying to find the right words. “Please be careful.”

“You should see the other guys,” Sylus attempts to joke. “Well, there wasn’t really much of them to see in the end…”

I want to laugh, but find myself unable. The news he’s just shared worries me more than I’d like to admit to him in this moment. A new weapon that seems to temporarily halt Sylus’ self-healing abilities? That was a big, big revelation, and one that has my mind spinning.

“I know that these dealings are part of your job, and that danger comes with the territory, but I…” I trail off, not sure of what I’m wanting to tell him. Or if I’m wanting to tell him.

“You what?” Sylus presses in a voice almost inaudible. Though I still haven’t looked at his face, I can tell how close he is to me by the sound of his voice. I can feel the tickle of his breath against my ear. When I don’t immediately respond, I jolt at the feeling of Sylus’ fingers snaking their way under my chin and tenderly tugging my gaze away from his wound and back to his awaiting eyes.

The intensity of his stare almost knocks me to the floor. I might’ve fallen had it not been for the securing grip of his fingers around my chin. His thumb traces long lines against my skin, and I hope he can’t feel the timbre of my heartbeat rocketing against my chest. “You what?” he asks again.

Oh, what dangerous territory I’ve wandered into.

“I-I…” I stammer, the words incoherent in my head. “I need to finish bandaging your wound.”

I raise the ball of gauze between our too-close faces, relief exploding in my stomach at the flimsy boundary it creates. I hear Sylus sigh and chuckle on the other side as his hand slides from my face once more. He leans back a few inches, and I feel like I can breathe again.

“Very well,” he resigns, returning his arm to his side and allowing me to continue. Sighing in relief, I move to begin wrapping the gauze around his waist when his left hand suddenly moves in tandem with my right.

“Sylus, cut it out, I need to finish before it starts bleeding again!” I complain, giving him an annoyed look only to be met with his confused expression.

“I didn’t do that,” he responds, looking down to my hands. “Not voluntarily at least.”

“This isn’t the time for games, just let me–” I move to attempt the gauze wrap a second time when the same thing happens–his hand moves in tandem with mine, blocking the way. Realization dawns on me as I lift our entwined hands into the air.

“Damn it,” I curse as we both gaze upon the faint misty glow of our Evol linkage at work. Appearing almost as shrouded handcuffs, our mysterious and unexplainable resonance linkage had a nasty habit of forming at the most inopportune times, and this had to have been the worst of those times for it to happen.

“Your Evol certainly knows how to pick a moment,” Sylus drawls sarcastically, smirking at our joined wrists. I cut him an annoyed glance, groaning to myself.

“The last time we linked, it lasted. All. Day.” I recall last week when our resonance linkage decided to make an appearance over breakfast when Sylus leaned a little too close to me to grab the butter across the table. We spent the rest of that rainy day uncomfortably packed behind Sylus’ office desk researching ways to disengage the link at will. Obviously, we had no luck.

“Well we can’t blame that on the Evol, now can we?” Sylus gives me a knowing smirk, and I fight not to roll my eyes as a blush creeps over my cheeks. One thing we both learned early on is that whatever this linkage was, it grew stronger the stronger my emotional, mental…phsyical relationship with the other person grew.

Sylus has made to tease me about it on numerous occasions, and while I always tried to play it off as an annoyance, the truth was it scared me how long the links had been lasting. I knew it was only a matter of time before the truth was out in the open and he realized how deep the change in my feelings towards him went. Who knows how long this link would last? And in the middle of the night, no less.

I’d have to learn how to control this resonance business sooner rather than later. Before long, the link might form and never break, and that was a thought that made me want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

“Well…” I start, frustration and embarrassment mixing together in my throat. “You’re just going to have to work with me to get these bandages on. Then we can worry about the link.”

Sylus chuckles at the sour expression I wear but nods in agreement, holding out his hand. It takes a few attempts, but we both manage to figure out a pattern of pass and pull that works well enough at getting the gauze wrapped around his waist without too much contortion. The silence we both work in allows me to calm down and throw myself into my task. It’s all too much to think through at the moment.

A few more moments of blissful silence pass, the gauze almost completely in place, when Sylus speaks again. “Mina…”

“Yes?” I stay focused on the wrapping.

“Why were you awake at this hour?”

The sincerity in his voice almost makes my hands stutter in their rotation. It seems for the moment, whatever form of his true self that lies beneath the cocky exterior was paying a visit.

“I’ve been having trouble sleeping,” I shrug, confiding in him.

Another pause. “Is the bed not comfortable?”

“It’s perfectly comfortable,” I smile softly to myself.

“Is is it too hot? Too cold?”

“It’s freezing in this house all the time,” I laugh. “But that’s not why.”

“Are Kieran and Luke making too much noise when they come back? Is Mephisto bothering you?”

I continue laughing as the gauze goes around once more.

“Why are you laughing?” Sylus inquires. Even without looking at him, I can see the puzzled expression he wears. “I don’t see what’s funny.”

“You’re what’s funny,” I grin wider. “You’re usually not so full of questions.”

“I’m simply trying to fix whatever is keeping you awake. A Hunter needs to sleep through the night.”

My hands pause on the last rotation of the gauze, eyes zoning out on where it crosses over Sylus’ ribs. “I don’t know why I can’t sleep. I just find it hard here.”

I glance up to see Sylus gazing intently at you. He always seems to be doing that. This time there is a hint of worry laced in his scrunched features.

“I’m fine, though,” I reassure him quickly, my mouth twitching into a soft smile as I remember his earlier request. “I like coming here to watch the city. It’s relaxing.” My head tilts to gesture to the spot on the couch I’ve claimed for myself each night, the city scape stretching far beyond it.

Sylus follows my gesture and stares out the far window himself for a moment before coming back to rest on me. His face contorts as if he’s thinking hard about something before he quietly clears his throat.

“You’re not…are you…” It was so unlike Sylus to be lost for words. “Are you not used to sleeping alone?”

There’s a question within his question. One I’m caught off guard to answer.

“What? I–no,” I’m quick to respond. “I’m used to it. Very used to it.”

There’s a strange wash of relief over Sylus’ face at my response that has my insides knotting up.

“I’m not sure what it is,” I decide to continue, finally finishing the last wrap of the gauze and managing to secure it in place with my un-linked hand. With Sylus fully clean and bandaged, I drop my hands, unsure of what to do now.

After a beat of silence, Sylus glances back to the spot I gestured to on the couch and then to me. He tilts his head towards the window. “Care to show me the view of my city you’ve been enjoying?”

I look at him a little surprised by his request. My city. The more I get to know Sylus, the more I find myself forgetting how much influence and power he has here. To think that a few months ago I was hearing the name “Onychinus” for the first time, and now here I was, linked to it’s very leader, the most dangerous and powerful figure in the N109 Zone.

This man standing before me has become familiar in a way I wasn't expecting. He doesn’t scare me like he used to, and I find it hard to believe that he’s the one I spent so long hating before everything changed.

“Yes,” I finally whisper in response, smiling shyly in an almost childlike excitement to share this thing I’ve come to find comfort in.

“Then shall we?” Sylus gestures for me to lead the way back to the couch, and I oblige, turning to leave behind the bloodied shirt and messy first-aid kit in the kitchen and return to the view that originally pulled me out of my room.

When I reach the sofa, however, I realize quickly that sitting sideways to face the window with our hands linked the way they are is going to be an uncomfortable task. “Maybe if we…” I try sitting in a few different ways, but every position has either me or Sylus craning our shoulder in an odd way.

Sylus watches as I try to puzzle my way into the right positioning, but it’s to no avail. “Maybe we should just stand?” I laugh to myself, trying to hide my slight embarrassment.

Sylus smirks softly at me. “Come here,” he coos in that sultry way of his, the in-control and confident leader making a reappearance as he descends sideways against the cushions of the couch and pulls me with him. I can’t do anything but fall the short distance straight into his lap, his legs parted to make the perfect place for me to land.

My heart rachets into mythroat as he presses me gently back against his broad chest, my head tucked just beneath his chin. I pray vehemently that he can’t feel my heartbeat against him and thank the powers that be that he can’t see how heated my face is in this position.

I realize quickly that his idea was a sound one, though, as he wraps his long arms around my waist, bringing his linked wrist to rest just under where mine hovers awkwardly. He leans back agains the couch, sighing contendently, and I can feel the remnants of his deep voice vibrating against my back.

“Is this okay?” he whispers against your ear. I struggle not to fling myself away from him from the sheer shock of it.

Steeling myself, I breathe to calm down. “Ye-Yes. It’s fine.”

Sylus’ responding chuckle sends shivers across my arms and legs. “You can rest your hands, sweetie. No need to keep them hovering in the air like that.”

I blush violently again, and try to find where to rest them but everywhere seems too intimate, too close.

As if sensing my hesitancy, Sylus reaches his fingers towards mine and slides each digit between my own, dragging your now-encased hands into my lap. He’s always been far too confident for his own good.

“Comfortable?” he questions once our hands are settled. I want to laugh at him because this is the most on edge I’ve felt in my whole life. My heart is hammering against my ribs, my stomach is tensed in knots and I can almost promise my hands are quickly becoming clammy against the smooth, warm skin of his own .

“Yes,” I manage to lie, but he only laughs again, deep and slow and far too close to my ear.

“Too cute,” he says so quietly, I’m not sure I was meant to hear.

“Won’t I hurt you in this position?” I concernedly ask, turing my head slightly to make sure I’m not pressed against his injury.

“I’m the farthest from in pain I could be,” Sylus responds, the tip of his nose brushing along my turned cheek. Before I can even manage a yelp of surprise, Sylus continues. “Show me this city you’ve been watching,”

Grateful for the change in focus, I turn back to the window, calming slightly as I gaze back across the city, still unchanged in the last hour. Inside, however, I’m now not alone and it doesn’t feel so eerily quiet. Instead, Sylus is pressed so close that I can feel the rise and fall of his steady breathing, each exhale cascading against my shoulder. I can feel the pulsing of his heart all the way in this fingertips as they remain wrapped around mine, his thumb brushing abscently back and forth across the back of my palm.

I begin to point out the little scenes in the city below that calm me the most–the life of the pub below, the rooftop garden a few highrises away, the flocks of birds that fly overhead. With each scene I reveal to Sylus, the more relaxed I begin to feel. He doesn’t say much in response to my narration, only offering the occasional hums of acknowledgement or squeeze of my hand.

After a few minutes of my rambling, I turn my face slightly to make sure he hasn’t drifted off to sleep, but am instead met with his face mere centimeters from mine, his eyes already locked on my face. I wonder if he’s been watching me the whole time I’ve been talking…

“Yes, I have,” Sylus responds lowly, and I jump, eyes widening as he grins at me.

“Did I say that outloud?” My free hand goes to cover my mouth in embarrassment.

There is a brand new kind of mirth in Sylus’ eyes, one I’ve not been witness too this close. It sucks the breath from my lungs.

“I’ve seen this city from every angle, at every time of day, in every circumstance,” Sylus goes on, never looking away from me. “But you, little bird…”

I struggle to keep my composure in check.

“I’ve waited a long time to discover you.”

I think I might die.

“You’ll be fine, I’ve got you.”

Damn it, am I letting every thought slip into the open tonight?

Sylus’ expression goes from bright and humored to inquisitive, as if he’s considering whether or not he should voice his thoughts. He might as well, I’ve let every damn question in my head escape already. It’s only right he joins in.

“Mina,” he starts, looking almost nervous and very un-Sylus-like.

“Sylus,” I whisper back, feeling like I’m floating outside of my body.

His chest hitches slightly, lips parting as he breathes into the silence for a beat. “Earlier…when you told me I should be careful…what were you about to say?”

He sounds breathless, his question hanging in the air between us, our mouths far too close for me to be thinking straight. In the back of my mind, I recall the moment, hesitant even now to utter what I was considering an hour ago. How much would it change things between us? Whatever is left of our boundaries, what little there might be, would surely be gone. I don’t know if that’s for better or for worse.

“Please tell me.” Sylus leans in closer, his nose brushing against mine, our breaths intermingled. “Please.”

My resolve falters. “I-I…”

“You what?” Sylus seems almost desperate, his hands tightening around my own. I’ve never seen or heard him like this. It’s a new kind of vulnerable. So I decide to repay it with my own.

“I care about you.”

And now it’s out in the open between us, hanging there like a bob in the water. The only question is will he bite or reject the offering?

“I care about you, Sylus,” I whisper again, my free hand raising of it’s own volition to brush down the skin of his face, from the edge of his eyebrow to the corner of his full lips.

Sylus’ breathing becomes heavy, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly as something shifts in the air around us. “I hate seeing you hurt, and after tonight, I’m more worried than I wanted to admit about you being out in the city.” I find myself rambling into the growing tension. Anything to ease whatever is building.

“With this new weapon, I detest the idea of you out there alone…what if you don’t make it home next time?”

“Home…” Is all that Sylus repeats, as if he isn’t fully hearing every word.

I fully cup his face in my hand. As the moments have ticked by, I realize I’ve shifted in his embrace and am somehow almost fully facing him, body halfway turned in his lap as I lean into his strong arms.

Sylus exhales and leans his face into my touch, brows scrunching up in another emotion I can’t quite read.

“Is this why…” he begins, eyes dropping to my lips and then back again, “Is this why the links have been lasting so long?”

“...Yes.” My cheeks heat up once more.

“Fuck,” Sylus hisses to mostly himself, eyes drinking in my expression.

I curve my brow. “Is that good or bad?”

Sylus manages a breathy chuckle, his arm tightening around my waist now. “Good…very good. You don’t realize how much so.”

Afraid I’ll implode if I read too far into that statement, I continue, “Can I go out into the city with you? To help keep you safe? Please?”

Sylus looks slightly tormented by the question. “I’d be far too worried for your safety to consider my own, kitten.”

“I can take care of myself,” I rebut. “I’m a specially trained Deepspace Hunter, or have you forgotten?”

“I’d never forget something that could put my life in mortal danger,” Sylus responds sarcastically, chuckling softly at my responding annoyance. He strokes my face again and I melt.

“Let me take care of you,” I try again, leaning further into him, hoping to convey the sincerity of my request. Having said these thoughts out loud after all this time, I feel like a waterfall that can’t help but spill everything I’ve kept dammed up. “I want to take care of you.”

Once again, Sylus appears internally knotted up, his face contorting in an odd mix of confusion and desire. “Do you not know how much you do for me already?” he asks. “How much you’re doing for me in this very moment?”

“It doesn’t feel like enough, whatever it is,” I admit. “I can do more for you. I can fight.”

“Mina–” he strains out, conflicted. “I know you’re capable, I do, but that’s not–you don’t–”

“I don’t what?”

“Linkon City is not the N109 Zone. You’ve barely scratched the surface of how bad this place can get.”

I know I shouldn’t let it bother me, not in this moment after everything that’s been put out in the open, but his statement pricks my pride and I pull back from him. I can see that I’ve hurt him in his confused expression as I put more distance between us. I’d get up from my spot on his lap if I knew I’d make it more than half a foot without dragging him along with me.

“So you get to go out risking life and limb for your responsibilities, and I just have to sit here on my hands waiting for you to come back every night? IF you come back?”

“No, Mina, that’s not what I’m saying…fuck, I don’t even know…how are we–do we need to talk about this right now?” Sylus runs a hand through his silver locks and I watch as they fall in a messy cascade across his forehead.

I know this is not the way he probably saw this conversation going. I’m sure he would rather have me close to him and telling him more about how much I care about his wellbeing, and if I was being totally honest with myself, that’s what I wish too, but my pride is stumped against the wall of his double standards.

Why does he get to call the shots for my well-being but I get no say in his?

He looks like he’s about to reason with me again, but I shake my head. “I want to go to bed now.”

Sylus looks at a loss for words, starting at me with his jaw half open. He lifts our still-linked hands and waves them between us, as if to remind me that exiting this conversation isn’t going to be that easy.

I curse quietly to myself, looking away from him and out the window.

“Mina, please, can we–”

“No, we can’t,” I interrupt. With each passing moment, I feel more and more tense and I don’t know how to calm down. I feel like I’m on the verge of tears, the threat of the waterworks stinging at the back of my eyes, and it’s the most frustrating feeling.

Sylus, to the credit of his good judgement, is remaining quiet. I can feel him staring at the side of my face, probably wondering where this conversation turned sideways.

“Let’s go then,” he finally speaks into the growing silence.

I whip my head in this direction. “Go where?”

“To bed. If you’re so keen to sleep right now, then I will oblige.”

I look at him, confused, gesturing to our linked hands. “And how exactly do you suggest we do that?”

Without another word, Sylus scoops his free arm beneath my legs that hang over his lap and pulls. As if I’m the weight of a plushie, I’m hoisted into the air, sitting halfway over Sylus’ bare shoulder and halfway in one arm. I’m immediately annoyed by how strong he is.

“What are you–where are–”

“To bed,” he interrupts, and I can hear the tension in his own voice. I’m caught between my own frustration and the guilt of causing it, so I keep quiet, huffing in resignation as he turns and begins to trapse easily down the length of the dark hallway.

I have no idea what his plan is as he walks, wondering if he thinks the Evol link will just dissapear when he gets to my room, but instead he passes right by it. My eyes widen as I watch my heavy mahogany door grow smaller and smaller, Sylus still charging towards the end of the hall. I turn, taking in the ornate, black, double-doors at the head of the hallway…Sylus’ room.

“Where do you think you’re taking me?” I ask, incredulous.

“To b–”

“If you say “bed” one more damn time, I’ll throttle you here and now.”

Against his stoic resolve, Sylus chuckles, and I have to admit, I struggle to remain annoyed, overjoyed that he can’t see my face hanging over his shoulder.

I’ve only been in Sylus’ room twice, both during a bet to see if I could steal a brooch he’d hidden in return for his help on a mission to find the other half of my Aether Core. That seems so long ago now, though thinking back, that second visit to Sylus’ room was where our relationship started to shift from professional to…whatever is was now.

I shudder as I think about what it felt like to have him towering over me on that bed for the first time.

And now I was going back in under very different, albeit less enticing, circumstances.

I take in the familiar surroundings as Sylus pushes through the heavy doors like they’re nothing, making straight for the bed that he deftly plops me down on top of. I look up at him as he stands before me, but I can’t read his expression if my life depended on it.

“Care to explain how you saw this working?” I try, attempting to break the silence. As the moments pass and he remains like the former version of himself, walled up and unreadable, I feel my frustration beginning to be replaced by nerves and uncertainty. Is all that progress we just made for nothing? Are we back to square one now?

“First, you’ll help me out of these.”

I choke on my breath as Sylus gestures to his belt and slacks, still hugging snuggly to his narrow hips. The moisture in my mouth dries up as my eyes follow the prominent V at the bottom of his torso, the deep rivets leading straight below the button of the very pants he’s requested I help remove.

“I’ll what?”

“If we can bandage a wound while linked like this, I’m certain a simple belt and zipper won’t put up too much of a fight.”

“Sylus, I can’t–”

“If you think I’m sleeping in these in my own bed, you’re sorely mistaken,” he states, matter-of-factly. My jaw drops open. He can’t be serious. “Don’t look too disturbed, sweetie, I’ll do all the heavy lifting.” Sylus smirks as he yanks my linked hand forward.

At this angle, I have to pull against the momentum to stop my hand from making an…unfortunate collision, and cut my look of shock and annoyance up to to see Sylus looking mighty pleased with himself.

“Just keep your hand close enough to allow me to work,” he explains. I fight to not roll my eyes. I also fight to keep my cheeks from heating up. I’m beginning to remember how I used to feel in the presence of Sylus before I got through a few more of his layers. This arrogance and smugness always did make me irate.

I look across the room, finding anything and everything to analyze while I feel my hand being jostled around. I hear the metallic sound of the belt being undone and discarded to the ground. Then the unmistakable sounds of his zipper falling loose and his slacks slipping to the floor.

“Don’t be too coy, kitten. It’s not like this is isn’t anything you haven’t seen,” Sylus purrs from next to me, and my stomach does a flip against my protestation.

“Can we just get to the sleeping part?” I try my best to sound as bored as possible. How we went from mere centimeters apart, sharing breaths and encased in each others arms to putting on our best show of “Who Can Care Less?” I'll never know.

Instead of the smug response I’m expecting back, I hear a low and resigned sigh from next to me and brave a look in Sylus’ direction. His eyes are cast away towards the floor, but mine hungrily graze up his newly bare skin. It’s true it’s nothing I haven’t seen before, but that doesn’t make it any less delicious.

His lengthy frame is cut with rippling muscles that sit prettily beneath his luminescent skin. His bandaged and broad torso swims to the narrow line of his black briefs that hug the curve of his meaty thighs like something perfectly tailored. Knowing him, the briefs probably were perfectly tailored.

I am distracted from my shameless gazing, however, as I return my eyes to his face. He’s still not looking at me…he looks almost sad? I don’t recall ever seeing Sylus downcast, but if that’s not the expression sneaking onto this perfect face, then I don’t know what is. My heart lurches at the sight.

I watch as he reaches past me to pull the pristinely made sheets away from the headboard, revealing a deepset grey silk. “After you,” he offers, his previous expression masked for the moment.

My emotions are all over the place, but I keep any thoughts I have to myself as I nod and scoot back on the bed. Sylus is pulled after me by our linked wrists, and if the circumstances were any different right now, I think I might explode from the sight of his lithe frame bending to crawl onto the bed towards me.

I have to avert my gaze and swiftly burry myself beneath the cool sheets before I heat up anymore. As I settle against the pillow, I feel the bed dip next to me as Sylus does the same. Soon, I feel the silk sheets rise to encase us both, and with a swift flick of Sylus’ fingers, the lights in room go out and we’re plunged into darkness and silence.

I blink a few times, forcing my eyes to adjust to the lighting. Soon enough, the moonlight bathes everything in the bedroom in a soft glow and I can see the faint outline of the objects around me. I turn my head to the right and gaze out of the large bay window fixed into the far wall. The view of the night sky from here is breathtaking. I can’t help but feel a sense of yearning for the scene only minutes earlier, staring out the window with Sylus so close.

He’s so close to me now, but it doesn’t feel like it anymore. How did things change so quickly? I forget why I was even frustrated with him…Well, I still remember why, but I don’t know why it was so important. The downfall of pride, I suppose. And now I’m lying in Sylus’ bed more awake than ever before, wallowing in my regret and desperate for some sort of salve to the situation.

I risk a glance to my left and can make out the sharp outline of Sylus’ profile resting on the pillow next to mine. How many times have I dreamed of this? Of lying next to him in the quiet of the evening? Only there wasn’t this glaring tension resting between us in those dreams. I mentally kick myself for letting my annoyance get the better of me. And just after I’d made so much progress with him.

I can feel the heat of his hand under the blankets so close to mine, the Evol linking our wrists making it harder to move any farther apart. As I subtly test the pull of the link, I can’t help but feel it’s even shorter than when it first connected. My fingers must be mere centemeters from Sylus’.

There’s no sound in the room aside from our breathing. If I train my ears just right, I can find the rhythm of Sylus’ inhales and exhales–the only comforting thing in the vicinity. I chew the inside of my cheek as the temptation to move closer to him grows. He’s so close, so warm. And with that warmth so nearby, it intensifies the freezing air of the bedroom, chilling me right to my bones.

My free hand grips the silk sheets, pulling them up to rest just below my chin. I curl my body beneath the covers as tightly as I can, trying to retain any heat I still have from when Sylus’ was holding me against him. It’s no use. I continue to fight against the chill of the air, wondering how Sylus exists in this kind of cold all the time.

“You’re shaking the whole bed.”

The sound of his voice in the dead silence makes me jump.

“Oh…I’m s-sorry,” I chatter, my chin stuttering from the chill. “It just got so cold…You don’t have an extra blanket in here, do you?”

Instead of responding, I hear him sigh deeply before the bed dips closer to me and I’m suddenly sliding sideways directly into the bare and blazing skin of Sylus himself. He situates our linked wrists in such a way that they are comfortably resting between our bodies. I instinctively curl myself against him, drinking in his heat like water.

“Better?’ he asks, his voice close by in the darkness.

I sigh out the last of my chill, nuzzling into the crook of his shoulder, not stopping to care that the tension between our unresolved conversation is still sitting stagnant above us.

“Yes,” I say honestly. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t say anything, so I attempt to close my eyes and find rest. If silence is all that awaits me tonight, I’d rather find solace in slumber and pray that when I wake up, the link will be dissolved.

My eyes are closed all of a minute before I realize falling back asleep won’t be as easy as I hoped. My insides are too restless, my regret and guilt too heavy. I should say something, I know I should, but I’m not sure how to broach the topic again…

“I care about you, too.”

Once again the low rumble of Sylus’ rough timbre echoes into the silence before I get my chance. I jolt at the unexpected comment and feel him shift his position beside me. In the glow of the moonlight, I lift my head to see his face turned towards me, lids hooded as he finds my eyes.

Suddenly my heart is pounding again. How does he manage to do that?

“What?” is all I can think to say.

“I care about you. I realize I never returned the sentiment…earlier.”

“Oh!” I breathe out, caught off guard. “I–That’s…thank you?”

“Thank you?”

I can hear the start of a chuckle behind his words, and I can’t help but giggle in response at the absurdity of my own.

“No, not ‘thank you’--well, I mean yes, thank you, but that’s–what I meant to say was…”

“It’s ok, Mina,” he lulls my from my spiral with his calm tone. He turns even more in the darkness until we are both lying facing each other. He looks some kind of otherworldly in this light. “I wanted to you know that I’m not hesitant to bring you with me into the city because I don’t think you’re capable or don’t want you to worry for my well-being.”

I purse my lips, studying his face. His expression is still sadder than I’d like it to be, as if he’s been mulling these words over and over, unsure of how I’d respond.

“I know,” I agree, earnestly. “But then why–”

“I care about you, too,” he repeats just as emphatically as me. Under the blankets, I feel the ghost of his fingers trail against mine, testing the waters of what’s ok. I instantly fold and move my fingers to be eagerly enveloped by his own. He inches closer to me.

“You care about me,” I echo, testing each word on my lips.

He slowly grins, that hooded gaze eating me alive. His other hand reaches towards me and tucks a stray hair behind my ear, so gentle I question if this is the same man I met all those months ago.

“Yes,” he assures in a breath of a whisper. “Very much so.”

“You care about me,” I say again, sounding like a broken record.

Sylus laughs a low rumble of a laugh that shoots right through me. “I care about you so much that I worry about your safety the same way you say you worry about mine.”

I stare up at him, melting against his palm as it traces soothing lines up and down the curve of my neck. It’s like every new place he’s allowed to touch me is a place he must explore every inch of, memorizing every fold and caressing every curve.

“I have responsibilities to attend to out in the city,” he continues on, explaining in a sort of gentle voice that has me hanging onto every syllable. “If I don’t attend to those responsibilities, all that follows is chaos, the kind that would eventually rope you up inside, and I can’t have that.” His fingers tighten on my hand, as if reassuring himself I’m really here in front of him.

“Keeping you here means that I can attend to responsibilities knowing you’re safe and unharmed,” Sylus reveals. “I’m without the distraction of worrying about someone I care for.”

“You care about me.”

Sylus laughs louder this time. “Is that all you can say, kitten?”

I feel my grin growing in response to the sound of his laughter. I wonder how many other people have had the privilege to hear his laugh, his real laugh, hearty and deep and comforting.

“I’m sorry, “ I shake my head. “I’m just processing.”

Sylus inches forward almost imperceptibly, eyebrows knit together. “Surely you knew I returned the feeling?”

I suddenly become sheepish.

Sylus’ eyebrows raise in astonishment, his grin going lopsided. “Surely, you knew!”

My cheeks heat and I retreat with a squeak beneath the barrier of silk sheets, burying my face against his shoulder. I hear another well of laughter tumble over me as Sylus moves to remove the sheets from overtop of me.

“I promise I didn’t know!” I finally admit, grinning stupidly against the warmth of his skin. As the natural cadence of my giggling dies down, I continue, slightly embarrassed, “I guessed…I hoped…but you’ve been so shamelessly flirtatious since the moment we met, I could never be sure…”

Sylus feigns shock. “Shamelessly flirtatious? Tsk, tsk, sweetie, you couldn’t be talking about me.”

I laugh again and Sylus lights up at the sound, his eyes glowing.

He stares at me for a long moment, his hands reclaiming their purchases against my skin, stroking and caressing the exposed parts with such care. “Sorry if it should’ve been more obvious,” I add after a minute, gazing lazily at his face. “Wanderers and fluctuation zones I can detect all day long, but this has never been my strong suit…” I gesture between the two of us.

Sylus huffs a gentle laugh, shaking his head. “Maybe it wasn’t obvious to you, that’s ok. We’re here now.”

I bite my lip in thought and Sylus’ eyes zero in on the action, pupils dialiting before he pulls his gaze away. My stomach twists again.

“...How long?” I eventually ask, nerves lighting up inside me. I can’t bare to keep eye contact with him as I wait for an answer.

“How long?”

“How long have you…cared for me?” I feel so silly asking it out loud. As a blush creeps up my neck, I fight the urge to dive beneath the covers again.

Sylus’ fingers still their soothing ministrations against my skin, and I suddenly worry. Did I ask something I shouldn’t have? Was it too far? Too soon?

But when I anxiously meet Sylus’ eyes once again, he’s already looking at me like something I’ve never seen. His piercing red irises have a slight glow to them, his brows knit slightly in a look of sincerity that takes my breath away. He pauses a moment longer, making sure I’m keeping my eyes on him as he speaks, low and slow.

“A long time,” he utters, breathless. “A very, very long time.”

I’m slightly confused while at the same time utterly captivated. I don’t know how long these few months could’ve felt. I suppose it has seemed like forever already, but I have a feeling that’s not what he means. Something about the moment has me reeling back my questions, however. This doesn’t seem like the right time or place to broach that topic.

“And you?” He returns my question, his face earnest as he awaits my response. “When did you start to…care?”

I find his phrasing funny and giggle before I answer. “When I was looking for that brooch, I suppose.”

He looks somewhat surprised at this. Maybe it wasn’t what he was expecting. “The one from the bet we made?”

I nod.

“What about that little hunt had you see me as something less monstrous?”

I open my mouth to protest that I ever found him monstrous, but truth be told, those first few days in the N109 Zone were not my favorite to recount with him.

Instead I answer honestly. “I tried so many times so many ways to find that stupid brooch, and you were so…patient with me. Even when I eventually had you handcuffed to this very bed and you could’ve escaped at any moment, you didn’t, and you let me think I had the upper hand for a few moments.”

Sylus listens intently, his eyes trained on my lips.

“I don’t know,” I continue. “In the end when you finally handed over the brooch, at first I was annoyed that you’d let me win without really winning, but as I kept replaying the memory of it, I thought it was so uncharacteristic of you to give in…and then I started thinking, ‘What if that isn’t uncharacteristic of him, and the demeanor he usually has is the farce?’”

I watch Sylus’ eyebrow raise in question.

“The interactions we had after that…I started looking at you through that lens to test my theory, and sure enough, you aren’t the big bad meanie everyone paints you to be. At least not all the time.” I smile to myself.

Looking back to Sylus, I see his expression has become one of subdued shock.

“What?” I ask through my smile.

“I just didn’t think you were paying that close attention to me.”

“I’m quite perceptive where it counts,” I defend myself.

He smiles slowly. “Except when it comes to matters of returned affection.”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, well I’m one for one on the perception front. I’m gonna take that as a win.”

Sylus’ grin grows and he inches forward yet again. As I notice how truly close he’s gotten, my nerves begin to edge upward. My throat dry, I avert my eyes. “So, what now?”

“You could touch me.”

“W-What?” I choke out, blindsided by his request.

“If you want to, that is,” he amends, carefully looking me over. “You seem rather…timid when it comes to physical affection, do you not?”

“I’m not timid!” I say defiantly, immediately proving myself wrong when Sylus dips his hand from my face to my shoulder then under the edge of blanket to my waist. I instantly flinch away from the sudden change in proximity. “Ok, well that was an unfair play!”

Sylus is laughing in earnest now, and it’s enough to distract me from my fumble.

“You were a little tense on the couch earlier, as well,” he notes, moving his hand back to the safe zone of my face. “Do you not enjoy physical contact?”

“I do!” I am quick to assure him. “I do enjoy it, it’s just…”

“Just…?”

“You make me nervous.”

“Nervous good or nervous bad?”

“Good! Nervous good.”

“So what does nervous good mean? Would you rather I not touch you just yet?” Sylus begins to remove his hands from me and I immediately feel their absence.

I shake my head, swiftly reaching back for his hands and pulling them back to where they were previously stationed. Sylus tries to hide his satisfaction.

“I don’t mind the physical contact, really!” I do my best to reassure that I am very much enthusiastic about the physical element going on here. “It just might take me a bit to get used to it without jumping is all. It’s something new.”

Sylus nods, his eyes darting away before returning with a question. “And me? How do you feel about touching me?”

My throat dries again. He truly is shameless.

“Have I given the impression that I don’t want to?” I ask sincerely, concerned I’ve come across averse to the idea.

“You haven’t exactly returned the physical sentiment the whole time we’ve been lying here.” He says it like it’s obvious.

“Oh, I haven’t?” I was genuinely unaware, much more focused on his hands on me than where mine were. Now that he’s mentioned it, I realize aside from the hand I’m holding beneath the sheets, my other hand remains curled against my own chest. “Do you…enjoy physical contact?”

“Yes,” he responds without a beat of pause. “Especially yours.”

My stomach is doing flips. “Where should I–?”

“Anywhere,” he whispers. “Everywhere.”

I hesitate a moment, overthinking every minute movement. I did touch him earlier when I bandaging his wounds, but I suppose that was with a different purpose in mind. And on the couch, I remember touching his face, didn’t I? Maybe it wasn’t enough for him. I know some people are more drawn to touch than others. I didn’t even really know I liked it until Sylus started doing it. If it feels as comforting to him as this does to me, then I decide to make an effort to return the gestures he’s already offered.

Slowly, I unfurl my hand from against my own chest and reach out towards the exposed planes of Sylus’. I place my palm flat against his collarbone, fingers running a line across the protruding feature and up along the curve of his own neck. His skin is soft and warm and I eat up every inch of it as I trace a path along the sharp jut of his jawline and then back down, down, down, across his collarbone once again and then onto the solid muscles of his chest.

I run my nails along his pale skin, and Sylus shudders beneath my touch, moving even closer to me.

“Is this ok?” I ask gently, keeping my eyes focused on what my hand is doing.

“Yes,” comes the heady whisper of approval above me. It sounds almost gutteral and it has my mind spinning. Did this really affect him that much? “More. Touch me more.”

My mind careens into an abyss at the sound of his voice. When I look up, he’s looking down with eyes half closed, irises glazed over and needy, and staring right at me.

I continue to run the pressure of my palm and the scratch of my nails along his chest, venturing across to his other pectoral and then down his sternum towards the chiseled field of his abdominals. I stop just above the gauze wrapping, avoiding placing any pressure on his healing wound. As I travel back up towards his face, I test a graze along his exposed nipple and melt inside as a low moan of approval erupts from his throat.

“Careful, kitten,” he admonishes in a dulcet tone. “Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

“Can’t fini–” I start to question before he captures my roaming hand in his own.

“Maybe that’s enough practice for now,” he decides, thumbing the back of my palm.

I look up at Sylus from beneath hooded lashes, breathing harder than I realized. I watch as Sylus’ adam’s apple bobs against the skin of his throat, his chest starting to heave like a bellows.

“Fuck…” he hisses, squeezing my hand as if trying to stop his own from moving any farther.

“What?” I question, searching that dazed expression for what he might be thinking about. Did I do something I shouldn’t have? “What’s wrong?”

Sylus leans closer to me, our mouths a breath apart. “I’m trying so hard to stop myself from kissing you right now.”

His brazen confession has my breath stuck in my throat. There’s a silence that seems like it stretches on forever between us. I force myself to swallow and say, “What if I don’t want you to stop yourself?”

His right eye glows an intense shade of red as he reigns in the flare of his Evol energy. Those irises lock their sights on my parted lips. He licks his own in a way that has me becoming a puddle against him. I didn’t realize I want to kiss him so badly until he spoke it outloud. Now it’s all I can think of. What his lips taste like, what noises he makes, how well he uses that vipers tongue of his…

“If you keep looking at me like that, I won’t be able to stop myself,” he whispers against the skin of cheek, so close that he almost feels like part of me.

“Don’t,” I plead breathlessly. “Don’t stop yourself.”

I let my eyes drift back to his enticing mouth, licking my own lips in response.

“I have to–” is all he gets out before his lips are on mine.

My head and my stomach implode in tandem, nerves and butterflies and explosions swimming all throughout my body at the feeling of him kissing me. I am in heaven, pure heaven.

I always knew Sylus was a sensual kind of person, but having his lips pressed against mine was almost sinful with how perfect it felt. The kiss is gentle but desperate, the pressure of his mouth on mine conveying how he can’t seem to get close enough, to feel enough of me.

His free hand moves from my face to my neck and up to my hair, his long digits fisting in my locks, tugging me futher into him. I suck against his bottom lip which draws out the most beautiful moan from his throat.

His Evol energy suddenly erupts in a swarm of red and black mist that swims around us both, carressing my arms, my legs, my waist, every part of me his hands can’t get to.

I feel his wrist tugging against the link beneath the sheets, trying without success to free itself and move elsewhere on my person.

“Fuck, I want to touch you, all of you,” he grinds out through breathless kisses, tugging again against the Evol link. If I wasn’t so far gone against his body, I’d find it in me to laugh that the very thing that brought us this close was now his hindrance. And with the link growing stronger the more our connection grows, I didn’t see it coming loose anytime soon.

“Sylus,” I moan against his mouth, his Evol energy shuddering around me in response.

“Say it again, Mina,” he pleads, pressing me to his chest. “Say my name.”

“Sylus, Sylus, Sylus,” I repeat in between each capture of my lips in his. We continue for a moment longer, his tongue beginning to tease the line of my mouth before he suddenly pulls away, leaving me breathless and blown out, hazy in the remnants of his touch.

I open my eyes to see his chest rising and falling in erratic patterns, his hand still fisted in my hair. His own eyes are closed, his Evol energy slowly dissipating around us. He’s trying to regain himself.

“Sylus?” I venture, my voice not sounding quite my own. “Are you ok?”

“Yes,” he breathes slowly, his voice like gravel. “Yes, I’m fine. I just need…a moment.”

“Ok,” I concede, lying back and watching him as he reigns in his explosion of energy. He’s so powerful, it’s a marvel to watch his Evol in action, and it makes me want to reach back for him even more. I lift my free hand to do just that before he intercepts my fingers in his own and holds it against his chest.

Sylus falls against the sheets and curls me against him, kissing the top of my head. “I’m sorry, I think we should stop for now…”

“Oh, ok,” I whisper, my cheeks heating in embarrassment. I make to turn myself over before he sees the blush covering my neck and face when he tightens his grip on me.

“Where are you going?” he sounds concerned.

“I thought…you said you wanted to stop.”

Sylus exhales a relieved breath. “No, kitten, please don’t misunderstand.” I meet his eyes and he massages my hand with his own in a comforting way. “I need to stop for my own sake…if we’d kept going…I don’t think I would’ve been able to control my Evol.”

My eyes light with realization. “Oh…”

“I’ve never…” His eyes go somewhere far away for a moment as he becomes lost in a thought. “That’s never happened before. My Evol going haywire…did I hurt you?” Suddenly all his worry is trained on me, his eyes looking me up and down to ensure no lingering injury was left behind.

“What? No, of course not,” I reassure him. “It felt…good.”

“Good?” Sylus repeats.

“Like there was more of you around me.”

He exhales again. “Good.”

“Was it…okay for you?” If I had a dollar for everytime I’ve blushed uncontrollably tonight, I’d be a damn millionare.

Sylus looks at me for a moment before leaning in and chuckling, his eyes closing in mirth. Was I that bad?

He opens his eyes and looks so deeply in mine that I balk under his gaze. “You have…no idea how long I’ve waited for that.” The tone of his voice sets my heart aflame. Sylus glances back to my now-swollen lips before he tears away. “I would do it again if I thought I could control myself.”

The way he looks at me so hungrily, like he could devour the whole of me in one bite makes me want to hide myself away. He is too much and not enough all at once.

“We’ll have to work on that,” I manage to finally say.

Sylus laughs and he runs the back of his hand down my face, coming to rest against my neck. “I look forward to it. Now, sleep, little bird. You’ve been up far past your bedtime.”

I blink at him and suddenly feel more tired than I have in weeks. As Sylus curls me against his side and readjusts the sheets overtop of us, I fight to stay awake and take one last look at his perfect face, suddenly terrified this has all been some elaborate fever dream and I’m about to wake up in my bed down the hall with nothing but the lingering memory of tonight to hold on to.

“Sleep, darling,” Sylus whispers again, his lips pressing to the crown of my head, his hand still linked to mine beneath the silk sheets massaging gentle patterns into my palm that have my drifting even farther off. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

And that was all I needed to hear before my eyes finally closed and sleep washed over me for the first time since I arrived. This time, I sleep all the way through to morning. ~ A/N: This is the first thing I've written since i went on a tumblr hiatus back in 2020. Love and Deepspace has drawn me out of the trenches and I am once again a fandom girlie. For now at least! I lowkey wanted to make this into a mini-series, which i might still do if I get enough of an idea for it, but for now, I hope you enjoy this moment with Sylus! Requests are open for drabbles and fics for LnDS <3 ~zayneternal <3

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bloodreinasbathwater · 4 months

Text

Plain & Simple

Nico Hischier X F!Reader (first love au)

a.n: I enjoyed writing this a little too much. the beginning may seem like its dragging on but let's be real, who wouldn't be stuck talking to Nico forever. also, Nico will be getting his own masterlist SOON.

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, flirting, not proofread, screaming, fuckboy Nico, eventual angst, eventual smut.

Word Count - 3,434

masterlist link

The air was filled with expectation, guests found their seats around the grand ballroom, their jewels glimmering under the dim, pale blue lighting that cast a serene ambiance over the opulent affair.

On the stage, a distinguished older gentleman with salt and pepper hair and a crisp tuxedo stood tall, commanding the attention of the well-heeled audience as he cleared his throat into the mic.

"Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his voice smooth and rich. “Welcome to the Gilded Gala, a celebration of our shared commitment to making the world a better place," he began, his voice rich and resonant.

"Tonight, The Jersey Devils and crew gather here to support a cause that is near and dear to all of our hearts – the well-being of our community's children of newark."

The guests nodded in agreement, the diamonds and sapphires adorning their necks and fingers catching the soft light as they shifted in their seats.

"Through your generosity, we have the power to transform lives, to provide the resources and opportunities that will allow our young ones to thrive and reach their full potential," the speaker continued, his gaze sweeping across the captivated crowd. "Together, we can be the pillars of hope that these children so desperately need."

As he spoke, the attendees leaned forward, their eyes shining with a newfound sense of purpose. The air was thick with a palpable energy, a shared desire to make a tangible difference in the world.

Y/N sat towards the back of the grand ballroom, at a smaller, vacant table near the bar. As the distinguished representative continued his impassioned speech on stage, Y/N yawned, lifting a delicate hand to politely cover her mouth.

Reaching back down to the crisp, white tablecloth in front of her, Y/N whisked her glass of water back into her hand, swishing the ice cubes around the cup absentmindedly. Her brow furrowed slightly as she took a sip, seemingly unimpressed by the grandiose nature of the Gilded Gala thus far.

Nico sat across the room, his eyes drifting around the grand ballroom, bored out of his mind by the proceedings on stage. As his gaze landed on the disinterested figure of Y/N towards the back of the hall, he couldn't help but steal a glance in her direction.

Casting a quick look at his teammates, Nico wondered if they had caught him eyeing up the oblivious girl. For a moment, he contemplated simply looking away, but Nico was not one to be so passive.

Clearing his throat, he turned to the group and mumbled some lame excuse to his friends, "Hey guys, I'm gonna go get a refill. You know how it is - gotta stay hydrated at these stuffy events." He quietly pushed his chair out and stood up.

With a casual wave, Nico sauntered away from his friends, his gaze fixed squarely on the disinterested young woman seated alone.

Adjusting his tie and smoothing a hand over his meticulously styled hair, Nico took a deep breath and began to walk over to Y/N's table, muttering some words of encouragement to himself as he went.

"Hi, I'm Nico," he purred, his voice thick with a heavy accent that Y/N couldn't quite place. Extending his hand, he offered her a confident smile. "And you are?"

"Y/N," she replied, looking Nico up and down appreciatively as she placed her smaller palm in his, returning his firm handshake. "Why do I recognize you?" he asked, still holding her hand.

The lights from the stage illuminated Nico's strong, chiseled features, and the intoxicating scent of his cologne wafted into her personal space.

"We work together," Y/N said confidently, meeting his intense gaze. "I work around the social media side of the Devils. Interviews and stuff. I don't think I've been told to interview you yet, but it's nice to finally meet you."

Nico's lips curled into a playful smirk as he held her hand, his thumb gently caressing the back of it. "Well, Y/N, I'm surprised we haven't crossed paths before," he purred, his voice low and sultry.

"I make it a point to get to know all the lovely ladies in my orbit." He leaned in slightly, his dark eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.

"How long have you worked for the team?" Nico questioned, leaning in closer with what Y/N thought was feigned interest.

"It's only been a few months, maybe two," she replied, gesturing for him to sit down. "What brings you over here? Do you come here often?" she asked jokingly. Leaning back in her chair, Y/N studied Nico's features, taking in the sharp lines of his jaw and the warm brown of his eyes.

Nico chuckled and sat down next to her. "This is my first time actually at a Gala event. One of my teammates dragged me along to this," he admitted, pointing over to a few of his teammates standing by the bar, drinks in hand. "I'm pretty bored, honestly."

Y/N couldn't help but notice the way Nico's gaze lingered on her as she took a sip from her glass. There was something about him that intrigued her, though she couldn't quite put her finger on it just yet.

Leaning in slightly, Y/N crossed her legs and turned more towards Nico, her body language open and inviting. "So you said you do social media and interviews for the Devils?" he asked, his deep voice sending a subtle shiver down her spine.

"Yeah, stupid skits and whatnot," she replied, emphasizing the word 'actually'. "I like the idea of interviewing and making videos that you guys would actually enjoy. Some of you can be really funny underneath all that sweat and ice."

Nico chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "What, you think my on-ice interviews are bad?" he asked jokingly, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

Y/N nudged his shoulder playfully. "Not bad, they just lack," she admitted. "Like, Jack's interviews - couldn't pay me a million bucks to sit there and watch him be miserable. The fans should get to know the real you."

Nico chuckled at Y/N's playful nudge, caught off guard for a moment by the easy rapport that was developing between them. "So, you want me to be completely honest in one of your interviews? Is that what I'm hearing?" he asked, raising a playful eyebrow as he leaned back in his chair.

"Preferably, yes," Y/N admitted sheepishly, glancing back and forth between Nico and the speaker on stage. As she spoke, Nico's gaze dropped momentarily to her lips, and Y/N noticed the faint hint of a shy smile playing on his features.

Absently, he reached up to rub at the spot on his jaw where his facial hair used to be, the gesture somehow endearing. Around them, the speaker bid his farewell and stepped down, signaling the end of his monotone drawl.

Nico also turned his attention to the stage, waiting patiently as the audience erupted into applause. Once the speaker had stepped off the stage, he turned his focus back to Y/N, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Finally, now it's time for free drinks for the rest of the night," he joked, shifting his chair to face her more directly.

"I will happily indulge in that. Mind if I join you?"

Nico chuckled and looked away for a moment, pretending to ponder his response. "I suppose so," he said playfully. "But you'll owe me in return..."

Y/N couldn't help but smile at his teasing tone. "Deal," she replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Nico pushed out his chair and stood, offering Y/N his hand with a warm smile.

She accepted it without hesitation, and he held on to her fingers as he began to lead her over to the bar, stealing occasional glances at her as they walked.

Once they reached the bar, Y/N turned to the bartender. "Vodka sour, please," she requested politely. Glancing up at Nico, she added, "And he'll have...?"

"Uhh, a shot of whiskey, please," Nico chimed in, looking down at Y/N with an amused smile. He maintained his gentle grip on her hand as they waited for their drinks, savoring the close proximity and the charged energy that lingered between them.

"Whiskey, plain and simple," she mumbled under her breath with a smile, "I like that."

Y/N felt drawn to the confident way he carried himself, almost leaning against his broad shoulders as she looked up at him. "What can I say? I know what I like and I stick with it," Nico said with a playful shrug.

"Plain and simple is what you like?" Y/N asked, her tone subtly flirtatious.

Nico grinned and nodded. "Yeah. I like most things plain and simple," he explained. "I'm not a fan of all those fancy, fruity cocktails. Whiskey is my go-to, and I doubt I'll change my mind anytime soon."

"Mhmm," Y/N hummed, watching Nico curiously for a moment before glancing away. His sly smile widened as he noticed the way she was studying him, clearly intrigued.

"You look like you want to ask me something," Nico said, his voice low and inviting as he tried to read her expression.

Y/N felt a flush creep up her cheeks at being so transparently captivated by this charming stranger. Tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, she met his gaze boldly. "Maybe I do," she replied, her lips curving into a coy smile. "But I'm not sure you're ready for the questions I have in mind."

Nico's eyes sparkled with a hint of challenge. "Try me," he murmured, leaning in ever so slightly. The air between them crackled with palpable tension as they waited for their drinks, both eager to see where this flirtatious exchange might lead.

Y/N smiled coyly, pulling her hair away from her face as she spoke. "It'll have to be a question for another time," she admitted.

Nico raised an eyebrow, feigning frustration. "You're really gonna leave me guessing until later, are you?" he said, though the mischievous glint in his eye betrayed his true feelings.

"Guess you'll just have to ask me on a date if you wanna see me again so bad," Y/N retorted boldly, catching Nico momentarily off-guard. For a split second, his eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly composed himself, trying to hide just how flustered this entire interaction had made him.

"Is that what you want, then? A date?" Nico asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

Y/N met his gaze, unintimidated. "Yeah, that's what I want," she replied, a playful laugh escaping her as she saw his calm demeanor.

Nico took a step closer, his imposing presence sending a subtle thrill through Y/N. "And if I say I want the same thing? A date with you?" he asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Y/N felt a flutter of anticipation in her chest as he loomed over her. "Then I'd stop with all this teasing and say yes," she replied, her voice soft but confident.

…

Later that evening…

Y/N practically burst through the front door of her apartment, keys and purse flying everywhere as she stumbled inside. Placing a hand over her racing heart, she fought to contain the smile that threatened to spread across her face. Her body fell back against the door, and she had to stifle a giddy giggle.

"Oh my god," she breathed, her cheeks flushing with heat as a dull warmth blossomed in her chest. Heather, who was calmly standing in the hallway, jumped at the sudden commotion, watching her roommate with a perplexed expression.

Heather began to slowly back away, attempting to spare Y/N the embarrassment, but it was too late. Y/N's eyes flew open, and she spotted her friend.

"Heather!" Y/N cried, kicking off her heels and barreling towards her, grabbing her arms with a vice-like grip. Heather's pale skin reddened at the intensity of Y/N's grip.

A massive grin threatened to split her face as her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. "I can't even... I don't even know what to say!" Her eyes went wide with alarm as Y/N came barreling towards her, grabbing her arms with a vice-like grip.

"I met a guy, well, I know of him, but he came up to me!" Y/N practically yelled, her eyes wild and sparkling. "That guy, the one I've been telling you about forever - he actually came and talked to me! I told you I could pull him, and you didn't believe me, Heath!”

Heather's eyes widened in surprise, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Wait, wait, slow down!" she exclaimed, trying to pry Y/N's hands off of her. "What happened? Give me all the details!"

Y/N took a deep, shaky breath, her grin refusing to fade. "Okay, okay, so I was sitting there, right? Just minding my own business, and suddenly he just appears in front of me!" she recounted, her words tumbling out in a breathless rush.

"And he introduces himself, and he's even more gorgeous up close, Heath! And we talked, and he was so charming and funny and-"

She paused, letting out a high-pitched squeal that made Heather wince. "And he asked me on a date!" Y/N squealed, her grip on Heather's arms tightening once more. "Can you believe it? I told you I could do it, and I did!"

Heather's eyes widened even further, a mixture of shock and excitement washing over her features. "No way! You're serious?" she gasped, a wide smile finally breaking across her own face. "That's incredible, Y/N! I can't believe it!"

Y/N nodded emphatically, her grin practically ear-to-ear. "I know! I'm still shaking from it all," she admitted, finally releasing Heather's arms and bringing her hands up to cover her reddened cheeks. "It was just... oh my god, Heather. It was perfect."

…

The incessant, piercing blare of the alarm clock shattered the tranquility of Y/N's slumber, ruthlessly ripping her from the fictional scenarios she had been indulging in.

Memories of her enchanting encounter with Nico the previous night had been dancing through her subconscious, a fictional narrative that she had been reluctant to let go of, even as the harsh realities of the waking world came crashing back.

Despite the mere 12 hours that had passed, she found herself giddily anticipating the potential of a future date with the charming athlete.

Jolting upright in bed, Y/N's eyes flew open, darting around the familiar confines of her bedroom. The soft, plush comforter pooled at her hips, momentarily disorienting her as she struggled to regain her bearings.

With a surge of energy, she flung the covers off, her feet hitting the cool hardwood floor as she rose from the comfort of her mattress.

Crossing the room, Y/N approached the imposing expanse of her closet, a contemplative hum escaping her lips as she began to mentally sift through her wardrobe options.

Tapping a finger against her chin, she examined the array of colors and textures, determined to craft the perfect ensemble for the day ahead.

Suddenly, the melodic chime of an incoming text message drew her attention to the nightstand, where her phone lay. Y/N felt her stomach flutter with excitement as she caught sight of Nico unsaved number displayed on the screen, her heart quickening its pace in response.

"Morning, what's your favorite coffee? I can grab you coffee after my morning run and meet you in the media room," the messages read, the words eliciting a surge of giddiness within her. Hastily, Y/N began to compose a reply, her fingers dancing across the touchscreen with a sense of urgency.

Yet, just as quickly as the initial excitement had bubbled up, she hesitated, a wave of uncertainty washing over her. Glancing at the time, she realized only a minute had passed since Nico's message had arrived.

Unwilling to risk appearing too eager or desperate, Y/N decided to wait a measured five minutes before responding, taking a deep, steadying breath as she forced herself to redirect her focus back to the task of selecting the perfect outfit.

A coy smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she immersed herself in the process, the prospect of spending more time with Nico fueling her determination to look her absolute best.

The dull, ebony hue of her heart had been ignited, a vibrant spark of anticipation and possibility now burning brightly within her chest.

…

The sleek, metal gate guarding the VIP parking lot slowly raised, the motorized mechanism whirring to life as Y/N's car approached. Gripping the steering wheel, she glided her vehicle through the open entrance, the tires crunching lightly against the asphalt.

She navigated the winding ramps, Y/N expertly maneuvered her car into an available spot towards the far end of the second floor.

Turning off the engine, she sat for a moment, taking a deep, steadying breath before reaching for the door handle. As she stepped out, the brush of her polished boots against the concrete echoed through the largely empty parking structure.

Y/N's brisk pace carried her with purpose towards the main entrance, a vibrant glow practically radiating from her being. The corners of her lips were turned up in a bright, beaming smile, as if she were practically bursting with joy and anticipation. "Morning," she greeted the security guard stationed at the x-ray checkpoint, her voice warm and cheery.

Passing through the security screening, Y/N entered the bustling facility, her eyes scanning the activity around her. A handful of players had already arrived, taking advantage of the early hour.

Some lingered by the expensive, gleaming coffee machine, chatting quietly amongst themselves, while others worked out in the nearby gym, the rhythmic thud of weights and the squeak of sneakers filling the air.

Weaving through the activity, Y/N made a beeline for the media room, the familiar place she called her workplace. Nico was nowhere to be seen, so she plopped down at her desk, her fingers flying across the sleek computer's keyboard as she hastily logged into the system.

Glancing down at her watch, Y/N noted that nearly five minutes had passed since her arrival. Huffing out a soft breath of frustration, she pulled back the delicate fabric of her long sleeve, her eyes fixed intently on the timepiece, silently willing a text from Nico to appear.

Suddenly, a pair of strong arms appeared in her peripheral vision, placing a pristine white coffee cup directly in front of her. Y/N's head snapped up, her heart racing with anticipation as she turned to face the source of this unexpected gesture.

"Come here often?" Nico joked, stepping back from the polished wood desk and allowing Y/N a better view of him. His typically styled hair seemed a touch messier today, the longer strands at the top falling in a rather endearing way across his forehead.

Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat at the sight of him. "Only when the captain's around," she flirted back, pushing her chair away from the table and turning to face him more fully. She was utterly transfixed by the way his tight-fitting compression shirt did little to conceal the toned musculature of his arms.

Feeling suddenly self-conscious under his gaze, Y/N looked away, biting coyly at her lower lip.

Nico chuckled, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a playful smirk. "Der Kapitän kann es kaum erwarten, dich auszuführen," he said in rapid German, his deep voice rumbling with amusement.

Y/N blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the foreign words. "What did you say?" she asked, her brow furrowed in curiosity.

Nico's smile widened as he repeated the phrase in English. "I said, 'The captain can't wait to take you out,'" he translated, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief.

Y/N felt a flush creep up her cheeks at his bold statement. She ducked her head shyly, her lips curling into a coy smile. "Is that so?" she murmured, peeking up at him from beneath her lashes.

Nico chuckled, taking a step closer to her desk. "Well, I certainly hope so," he replied, his voice low and inviting. "After all, I've been looking forward to getting to know you better."

Y/N's heart quickened its pace as he leaned in, the fresh scent of his cologne enveloping her. She clutched the coffee cup in her hands, taking a steadying sip as she met his intense gaze.

"I have to say, the feeling is mutual," she admitted, her tone equally flirtatious. The air between them crackled with palpable tension, and Y/N found herself utterly captivated by this charming stranger.

Oh yeah, she could get used to this.

…

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bucketslutz · 1 month

Text

Don't Be Late (professor Logan Howlett/Fem student mutant reader)

Click here for chapter index.

Summary: The aftermath of your drunken night with Logan does not go the way you expect it to. Tensions rise, harsh words are spoken, and feelings get inevitably hurt.

A/N: thank you all so much for the kind words and the support! every comment means the world to me, seriously. my surgery went well, it wasn't very invasive but the nitrous gas knocked me out for most of the day yesterday! thank you to everyone who wished me well. this chapter is a lot more angsty than i was intending to write it but i've been feeling pretty icky in my personal life and i think that's just translated into my writing😅 whoops. i hope y'all enjoy tho!

Warnings: smut!! 18+ minors DNI!!!, swearing, ass slapping, unprotected vaginal sex, p in v, dirty talking, car sex, angry sex, slightly rough sex, orgasm denial if you squint, insults, Logan being kinda mean to reader and vice versa

Word Count: 5,118

Chapter 4

A sharp pain reverberates around your skull. Slowly blinking your eyes open, you eventually adjust to your surroundings. You glare suspiciously at the room around you, apprehensive to move. But your head is pounding, and nausea swirls around your stomach. You groan as you sit up, scanning the area for an indication of where you are. The window to your right is draped in sheer flannel curtains, allowing the morning sunlight to shine in, much to the dismay of your hangover. The log cabin interior is sparsely decorated, save for a pair of antlers mounted above a pine dresser, clothes draped haphazardly along its prongs. The space smells of tobacco and pine. Oh god, you think to yourself, your stomach dropping as you piece the puzzle of your night together in your mind. Logan. This is Logan’s house. And you’re in your underwear. Surely you didn’t...did you? Wouldn’t you remember something like that? Would Logan even want to fuck you? Especially with how drunk you assume you were. You’re pulled from your thoughts with a startle, a knock against the door bringing you back down to earth. Logan calls your name gently from behind it.

“I’ve, uh, got some toast, if you’re hungry,” Logan says, a layer of uncertainty in his voice.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” you reply, clinging the scratchy blanket to your chest. You gather up all the courage you can muster, preparing yourself to face him, assuming you made a complete and utter fool of yourself the night before. You find your pants on the floor and shimmy them up your legs, searching for a mirror you can fix your appearance in. You find the bathroom behind a door on your left and flick the light on, groaning at the harsh pain the bright light brings upon your headache. Once your squinting ceases and your eyes adjust, you almost gasp at how wrecked you look. Your hair is completely disheveled, smudged black eye makeup making your eyes look sunken in. The smudged makeup also doesn’t help the colorless, pale appearance of your skin. You turn the sink’s faucet on, splashing some cold water onto your face. You’re delusional to think that it will do much to help. You try your best to smooth your hair down with your fingers, taking a deep breath in preparation for whatever you may face in Logan’s living room.

You meekly open the door of his bedroom, scanning the area in front of you quickly before stepping out. His bedroom is situated on the second level of his house, the door of his room leading out to a mezzanine. From here, you can see Logan sat on a leather couch in the middle of his living space, puffing on a cigar. Despite his home having this mezzanine, it isn’t full of grandiosity. It’s lit fairly dimly, the ceiling flat above your head but vaulted above Logan’s. Everything looks hand crafted, with slight imperfections in each cut of wood that sustains the structure of the cabin.

You walk slowly down the stairs, each step making your head throb. Heading towards the couch, you decide to sit as far from him as you can manage, feeling the most awkward you’ve ever felt around him since you’ve met. He reaches his cigar’d hand towards the coffee table, stuffing it out onto the ashtray that’s already littered with old, dead cigars. He slides a plate of cold toast in your direction before he gets up. You mutter a meek thanks as he walks to the kitchen that’s nestled under the mezzanine. You manage a bite of the toast, hoping it will alleviate your nausea slightly. It doesn’t, but it does feel good to have something in your stomach. Logan returns to the living room and sets a mug in front of you, grunting as he sits back down on the couch. He seemingly has no care with being in your proximity, as he moves closer to you than from where he was before.

“Thank you,” you grumble in appreciation, reaching for the mug of black coffee. Wincing as you sip, you wish you could make that Colombian dark roast without Logan noticing. He doesn’t say anything in response to your thanks, simply nodding as he sips from his own mug of coffee. There’s a loaded moment of silence, neither one of you brave enough to say anything yet. Maybe you did something in your drunken stupor to offend him. Or maybe something happened and he feels too awkward and ashamed to do anything about it. It’s killing you to not know, and causing you to worry even further that something bad might’ve happened. You decide to swallow your anxiety.

“Um, did we..?” you break the silence, trailing off, feeling too awkward to finish the sentence.

“What? Fuck?” he finishes, rather casually, a slight furrow to his brow. His candor made you almost choke on your coffee.

“Believe me, princess, you were in no state,” he chuckles with a shake of his head, you exhale in relief, glad you didn’t do anything too stupid, “Wouldn’t be much fun that way, anyways,” he mutters into his mug.

A wave of heat rushes to your cheeks. The nickname, the sexual innuendo. Surely that was flirting, wasn’t it? A part of your brain knows this is so highly inappropriate. Your professor got you so drunk the night before that you had to crash in his bed, and now openly flirts with you the morning after. But the other half of your brain wants to know just how fun fucking him would be.

“How much do you remember?” he asks, turning his head towards you. Shifting your weight under his stare, you focus your thoughts, trying to remember as much as you can.

“I remember our first couple games of pool,” you start, looking up at the ceiling as you try and recall further, “I remember splitting the shot of tequila…I remember the lemon drops I made you drink…And I remember....” You trail off, remembering something far worse than a potential sexual encounter with Logan. The man. His body flying across the room from the force of your kick. Logan saw you, everyone in that bar saw you. You need to get out of here.

“You know, I think I should head home actually,” you deflect, trying your best to seem as collected as possible. You stand from the couch, not entirely sure where you’re supposed to go from here.

“Your ride’s still at the bar, you were in no condition, believe me,” Logan assures, standing up with you. He walks towards his dining table and retrieves what you recognize as your purse. He hands it to you along with your shoes, you offer a tight smile as a thanks. “I’ll give you a lift to the bar.”

…

The ride back to the bar has been silent, the only sound being the engine of Logan’s truck growling down the road. Your mind is slowly becoming less and less shrouded to the events of the night before. You recall more of the tension between the two of you, his hands supporting you when you fell, the times he called you princess, the way he bit the lime in half when he split that shot of tequila.

“This wasn’t what I was tryin’ to do,” Logan mumbles, suddenly breaking the silence. You snap your head towards him, confused by what he’s attempting to say.

“What do you mean?”

“I wasn’t tryna get you shitfaced. I just…wanted you to relax,” he admits, turning his head to you briefly before promptly turning his focus back to the road. That wasn’t his intention? Really? You suddenly recall talking to him about how you don’t like clear liquor, yet he still shoved those shots in your face. Sure, you were playing a game. But you were being playful in ordering him fruity drinks as punishment, he made you violently hungover and in a state of delirium.

“Is that your way of apologizing?” you snap, narrowing your eyes at him. Logan looks taken aback by your sudden frustration.

“Sorry?” Logan responds, his voice begging offense as his head tilts like a confused puppy.

“Oh, so that word is in your vocabulary. Great. Apology accepted. I really appreciate you taking responsibility for getting me unbelievably shitfaced on liquor I told you I couldn’t drink,” you sass, crossing your arms in frustration.

“Alright, bub, sure,” Logan scoffs, laughing you off as if you’re no serious threat. Which pisses you off even more.

“I’m serious. Did you honestly think I was enjoying myself puking in your toilet for hours?” you question rhetorically, trying to get him to understand, “Maybe you like being dysfunctional, but not everyone else likes being blackout drunk on their Friday nights while getting into bar fights.” You sit back in your seat and turn as far out to the window as you physically can.

“Hey! I didn’t make you do shit,” Logan counters pointing his finger accusatorially at you, “The whole goddamned game was your stupid idea.”

“Oh, wow, that’s a really good observation, Logan. You didn’t make me do anything. The drunk girl with impaired judgement made a decision and should face the consequences of her actions,” you remark sarcastically, your arms gesturing with each emphasis you make, “Wow, ‘ya sure you’re a history professor? Because you’d be great teaching Date Rape 101.”

“Date Rape 101?” he scoffs, barely coherent, before continuing, “And whose goddamn self defense classes are you taking, eh? Wonder Woman’s?”

You freeze. Unable to form a retort. What can you say? There’s no explanation for what you did last night. It was inhuman.

“What? Got nothin’ to say, princess?” he spat, gritting his teeth. You scoff and roll your eyes in disbelief at his attitude. His car approaches the shallow gravel lot belonging to the bar. Saved by the bell, you think to yourself. He puts it in park.

“Go fuck yourself, Logan,” you bark, your tone low and deadly as you throw the car door open and stomp out. You motion to slam it, but you hesitate when a thought crosses your mind, “And buying your student drinks is extremely inappropriate and against, like, so many code of conducts,” you remark sassily before slamming his car door shut. You fish for your keys in your bag, fighting to not look behind you and watch as Logan pulls out of the parking lot, before aggressively driving away. You growl in frustration once you step into your car, holding yourself back from slamming your head against the steering wheel. In all honesty, you weren’t sure if you were mad at him or yourself for being so careless.

…

Saturday was spent nursing yourself back to health, doing nothing but laying in bed, doomscrolling on your phone in an attempt to numb your mind from the anger you felt towards your professor. The audacity to put you in that kind of position. You got so drunk you were almost unconscious, you were almost groped by a stranger, and you risked revealing your powers to him and all those strangers in the bar. How stupid were you to believe that you could have a fun evening with someone like him. An abrasive, impolite, selfish asshole that’s incapable of taking any responsibility for his actions. If you feel this way, then why do you wish you stayed in his bed a little bit longer? Why do you wish he made a move on you on his couch? Why do still want him? It makes you want to rip your hair out. How can he have this effect on you? And why him? What’s so fucking special about him that your affections are intertwined with his? No one has ever made you feel this connected in your life. It’s like there’s been an invisible string between the two of you since you’ve met, and it’s so strong that nothing can separate it. You hate him, you do, but you want him. God, you’d give anything to fuck him now. His actions from last night honestly fanning the flames of your desire even further. You don’t know why, you hate his guts right now. It almost seems that in order for you to release your anger and frustration with him, your body wants to fuck. Hard.

It’s gotten to the point where you can’t think about how mad you are at him without getting unbelievably turned on. You just want him to slam you down onto his bed and fuck you into tomorrow, leaving bites down your neck as you scratch red marks into his back. Despite your growing arousal, you’re too tired to want to relieve yourself, opting to succumb to sleep instead. You think about Logan calling you “princess” as you fall asleep.

“You got nothing to say, princess?” Logan spat from the driver’s seat, angling his head towards yours after putting the truck in park.

“Asshole,” you mumble through gritted teeth. You remain fixed on the expanse of gravel road in front of you, lit only by the headlights of Logan’s truck. Logan chuckles in disbelief, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jesus, Logan, you’re a fucking asshole!”

“It takes one to fucking know one, baby, and you’ve been a real mess all day,” Logan retorts, waving his arms in the air in frustration. “It seems whenever you got a problem with yourself you turn it around on me. I’m not a person you can dump your shit onto!”

“I’m not dumping anything! You don’t fucking listen to me!” you scowl, finally turning your body towards him.

“Oh, believe me, bub, if you had to hear yourself half the time I do, you’d understand why I tune you out!”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed.

“You heard me!” Logan growled, dismissing you with a wave of his hand.

“Fuck you!” you snap, venom on your tongue and a furious expression on your face.

“Fuck you!” Logan snaps back, sliding towards you on the truck’s bench seat to get in your face.

“Fuck you!” you raise your voice louder than his, squaring up to him, not allowing him to corner you in the car and get the upper hand. Your faces are inches from each other now, your angry pants fanning the other’s face. You can see a shift in Logan’s eyes, twisting from raging embers of anger, to dark and lustful in a second. His eyes flick down to your lips, then back up to join your gaze again. His lips hesitate between keeping the distance, and floating towards yours, like he’s being pulled by a magnet. You don’t want him, you hate him right now, but god how you want him.

“You’re an asshole,” you mumble quickly before his lips crash hastily onto yours. He swallows you, generously flicking his tongue in and out of his mouth. You tangle your tongue with his, grasping the back of his neck with need. Logan hooks both his arms around you, pulling you as close to his chest as he can manage. With each aggressive nip and suck to your lips, the stronger your arousal swirls within you. You tuck your legs under you, sitting up on your knees, as you push him back onto the bench of the truck. You straddle him, pressing your full weight onto his pelvis and reveling in the feel of his hard cock pressed firmly against your core. His hips buck into yours, hands traveling down the expanse of your body before sliding under the hem of your tank top. You aggressively grind your hips down onto his, causing Logan to growl lowly into your mouth. Your fingers travel to Logan’s scalp, gripping his hair with intensity and ferocity while your other is pressed firmly against his chest for leverage as you continue grinding into him. Your skirt has hiked up almost completely all the way, leaving just your lacy underwear as your only barrier against his jean-clad cock. So preoccupied with his lips on yours and the friction against your clit, you failed to notice that Logan has unclasped your bra and is fighting to pull your tank top over your head. Before you even get a chance to sit up and adjust, Logan loses his patience, using both his hands to rip your tank in half with ease. Any other day, you would give a shit and chastise him for being so careless, but right now, you want nothing more than to fuck the shit out of him. You grab him by the collar and sit him up without breaking the kiss, allowing him the freedom to slip your bra off of you and let your tits spring free.

You fiddle with the buttons at the collar of his shirt, growing increasingly frustrated with them. You decide to take a page from Logan’s book and rip the front of his shirt open, sending buttons ricocheting throughout the truck. Logan growls in approval, pulling you closer to his chest. He breaks the kiss, biting and sucking up and down the expanse of your neck causing you to elicit a guttural moan in response. Logan’s becoming more and more ferocious with his movements the longer your hips grind down onto his. Removing his mouth from your neck, he bares his lower teeth before shoving you back so he’s now sitting up above you. He unbuttons his pants with ease before pulling his cock out, clearly eager to fuck you already. You spread your legs in anticipation, your skirt scrunched up to your ribcage, your bare chest heaving. He reaches for the waistband of your panties and hurriedly yanks them down your legs, throwing them behind him without a care. He barely takes any time to line himself up before he bottoms out into your tight pussy with a growl from his lips. You gasp in a mixture of sheer bliss and sharp pain. Logan hunches over your figure, grunting into your ear as he begins his rapid, hard thrusts into your core. Your moans are high pitched, overwhelmed with the pleasure he brings to your aching pussy.

“Take it,” he growls into your ear before bringing his mouth down to the crook of your neck and biting. Hard. A pained moan escapes your lips. He grunts with each powerful thrust into you, spearing you in half, causing tears to prick at the corners of your eyes. Each time he rocks into you, your moans grow more desperate, embarrassingly high pitched. Logan pulls his face away from your neck, maintaining eye contact with you as he brings a hand to your throat and squeezes.

“That’s right, take this cock,” he husks, his voice barely below a growl as he watches you get absolutely wrecked by the way he’s pounding into your pussy. The pressure to your neck makes you lightheaded, the pleasure overwhelming you.

“Yes…fuck,” you groan, your words of encouragement being broken up by each of Logan’s hard thrusts inside of you. Logan’s noises are animalistic above you, his teeth bared, his hand squeezed around your throat possessively. You’re not sure how much more of this you can take with his cock stretching and spearing you the way that it is. Just as you think you’re ready to pass out, Logan’s thrusts stutter to a stop. Removing the hand from your throat, he pulls out. You whine at the sudden emptiness, and watch Logan sit up above you, his chest heaving.

“All fours for me, babygirl,” he commands, gesturing to the space behind him for you to crawl to as he lazily strokes his cock. You oblige immediately, crawling past him to the other end of the bench seat. You arch your back in anticipation, gyrating your ass to entice him. He gives your rear a harsh smack causing you to moan lightly.

“D’you like that, princess?” he rasps, the gravel in his voice making you clench. He gives you another smack making you moan more, desperate for him to keep fucking you.

“Logan, please,” you whine, eagerly moving your hips backwards in an attempt to feel his cock against you.

“You want it?” he teases, you can hear his cocky smile.

“Yes,” you reply breathlessly, squeezing your thighs together for some kind of friction as Logan gently massages the tender flesh of your ass. You gasp when a hand shoots up to your hair, Logan grabs a fistful and forcefully pulls you up so your back is flush with his chest. From here you can feel the stiffness of his cock against your ass. You whimper, grinding your ass into him as you’re desperate for a release. Logan’s hips adjust, feeling his length prod at your entrance before he spears into you, completely stretching you out. You gasp as he hits your cervix, starting his thrusts slowly before pushing you back down onto your hands. Keeping his hand in your hair, he uses his other hand to grip your shoulder for leverage, before bucking into you hard. You groan, pressing your hands against the car door for support as his pace quickens, his belt jingling rhythmically with the pace of his hips. You almost feel pain from the way he prods your cervix, but his pace is so fast you barely have enough time to register it. Your moans grow lewd and high pitched, the slap of his skin against your ass, the pulling of your hair, his grunting and moaning and panting. It’s all so vulgar and feral.

“Tell me I’m right,” he grunts, his teeth bared and grip on you tightening.

“Lo-gan,” you grunt, trying your best to form a sentence, but his thrusts move your whole body and you can’t speak when he fucks you like this. He lets go of your hair, bending over you to whisper in your ear.

“Tell me that I was right and you were wrong, and I’ll keep fucking this pretty pussy,” he husks, his gruff voice tempting you as his cock twitches inside of you. God, you want to, but you’re stubborn. You know you’ll never live this down and he’ll continuously hold it over your head for as long as you live. You crane your neck behind you, flashing him a sultry look, fluttering your eyelashes.

“No,” you whisper, pressing a firm hand to his chest and pushing him off of you, his dick popping out of you as he sits back in disbelief.

“No?” he asks incredulously. You spin around situating yourself on the seat as he stares at you blankly.

“No,” you clarify simply, smoothing your hair down and collecting yourself. You find your panties on the floor and slip them on. Logan slides towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face in your neck before kissing up and down it. You shrug him off, bringing your hand up to his face and gripping his jaw lightly so he’s forced to make eye contact with you. Eyes flit down to your lips hungrily, like he’s a dog begging for his chew toy.

“We’ll see how long you last without my pussy,” you murmur, letting his lips float just inches from yours, as he’s barely able to resist capturing your lips in a kiss. But you won’t let him.

This is the first time in a week you’ve woken up without an orgasm on your fingertips. You feel quite confused, unsure of what to make of this dream. It was just as vivid as the others, but the abrupt ending didn’t leave you begging for more from him. For once, you’re not dreading his class tomorrow, ready to face him and whatever kind of attitude he wants to throw your way.

…

It’s Monday morning and you approach Logan Howlett’s class with the utmost confidence. What could he do to you? Call you out in front of the class? What would he gain from that? You could just report him to the Dean, hell, you could report him to the president of the university. You could do that now even, but he hasn’t forced your hand yet. His actions today, however, could.

You push the door open, filing in with a few other classmates, trying your best to avoid looking towards Logan at the head of the room. You pull out your notebook, attempting to focus on nothing but his lecture and his lesson plan. No distractions today.

You startle when something is slammed in front of you onto your desk, as if Logan could read your thoughts and wanted to disturb you as much as possible by simply handing you back your essay that he must’ve graded. You avoid looking at him, which isn’t hard considering he walked away almost immediately after throwing the pages on your desk. You huff as you flip the it over, much to your surprise, there’s a huge red zero scrawled at the top of your page. You’re taken aback, trying to flip through the pages so you can understand why he gave you no credit. But he offered no explanation, no notes in any of the margins. Goddamnit, you’re the only person who turned it in on time! You should be getting extra credit for that alone. You try and glare at him, hoping he’ll meet your gaze, but he avoids you with expertise. That fucking bastard.

You stew in your seat for the rest of class. Finding it almost impossible to focus on the lecture with how much more pissed you are at Logan. What reason would Logan have to be that petty? You did the work goddamnit, he can’t withhold a grade just because you yelled at him. What an immature, insecure, stupid man. You can’t believe you were ever attracted to someone so chauvinistic and egotistical. You’d have half a mind if you didn’t go to the President about his behavior, he shouldn’t be allowed to continue teaching here or anywhere. Not when you’re done with him. And you want him to know that. You want him to feel powerless to stop you from taking his job away from him.

The clock strikes 10 and Logan zips out of class swiftly, you attempt to follow, maneuvering out from behind your row as quickly as possible. You turn out the classroom, spotting him further down the hall. Tailing him through doorways and corridors, you finally find him at his destination: his office. You take a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for whatever he might throw your way. Without knocking, you swing the door open, promptly shutting it behind you. Mimicking his actions from earlier, you slam your essay in front of his face, staring at him with venom.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you snap, your face twisted into a furious scowl.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Logan asks, feigning ignorance, staring up at you with a coldness in his eyes.

“You’re a child,” you scoff, “What, you couldn’t handle getting yelled at so you take that out on my grade?”

“I don’t know what you mean. Maybe you should give that essay again another read,” he remarks as matter of factly as possible, trying his best to hide his thinly veiled anger.

“Bullshit. Fix my grade,” you command, reaching over the desk and shoving the pages closer towards him.

“I’m not fixing shit, now get out,” Logan barks sternly, sliding a drawer in his desk open and pulling out a silver leather-cased flask. He takes a generous swig, barely flinching when he gulps, causing you to scoff and roll your eyes.

“You’re unbelievable,” you huff in disbelief. A grown-ass man, drinking in the middle of the day while he’s still at work.

“You got a problem, bub?” he frowns at you before taking another swig of his liquor.

“What problem don’t I have with you!?” you exclaim, throwing your arms in the air in frustration, “You’re inexplicably nice to me on the first day of class, then you tell me to fuck off half of the time you see me, then you suddenly feel bad for me and take me out for pity drinks where you shove liquor down my throat like you wanted me to get sick! You’re abrasive, you’re bad at your job, you’re irresponsible and I could almost hate you for—“

Something in Logan snaps, causing him to stand up abruptly, slamming his palms flat on his desk before coming out from behind it to get in your face.

“I didn’t fucking ask for this!” he barks pointing at you aggressively, with each continuation of his thought, he steps closer to you, causing you to back away from his advances, “Do you think I want to be in that fucking classroom everyday, reading from a bullshit textbook with bullshit facts…Lecturing half-drunk, spoiled, rich, asshole 20 year olds who could give two shits about what I have to fucking say!”

You say nothing, letting him back you into a corner with each sling of curses and frustrations he barks at you. You can’t help the tears that well in your eyes as he gets closer and closer to your face.

“Don’t even get me fucking started on this shy, timid wallflower act you put on every day! If you think you’re fooling everyone with that performance, then you must be too goddamned stupid to be here! Stop wasting your time; wastin’ everyone’s goddamned time! Do us all a favor, pack up your bullshit and leave before you push someone else through a wall!”

Logan’s face is inches from yours now, lower teeth bared as he pants furiously, face red from anger. Tears prick your eyes and threaten to roll down your cheeks, you can’t help it, his words dug a knife into your chest. Is that what he really thinks of you? Is that really what you should do? You know what, fuck what he thinks, fuck him and his opinions. What the hell does he know about academia, you think to yourself. You inhale shakily, trying your best to choke down a sob as you twist your face into a hateful scowl.

“Fuck you,” you hiss, a stray tear rolling down your cheek despite your best efforts to uphold the angered front you wanted to put forward. You shove past him and back towards his desk, collecting your essay before starting towards the door. Your hand reaches the handle, you hesitate before you leave. Wanting to turn around, wanting him to maybe even stop you. But he’s fixed, his breathing remaining the same angered pace. With tears now unabashedly running down your cheeks, you leave, drafting the email you’re going to send to the president’s office in your head.

...

A/N: ouch :/ this one hurt to write lowkey. i had to put some smut in there to balance this one out because i started feeling too bad for all of the angst. again, all the kind words of support and encouragement make me so happy. i check my email a million times a day so i can see if someone left a comment. it motivates me a lot to keep this going, which is why im churning chapters out so fast. thank you all🫶🏻 leave your guesses for who you think the president of the university is below and any other x men characters you hope to see in the future!

also, i'm thinking about recommending a song to go with each chapter, i listen to music a lot when i write so i wanted to know what y'all thought about that! click here to view on ao3

Tags: @wolviesgirl @sanemis-piss

#hugh jackman #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett #logan howlett smut #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine smut #x men #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett angst #wolverine angst

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intimidating-fettuccine · 2 months

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How was it at first when Toby came to the mansion? (Bro after being bullied and abused his whole life I couldn't think he could not be afraid of someone/everyone) so did Tim and/or Slender do anything to help him be less paranoid/afraid of people?

(Can this be a part 2 if you have already done it yet? 🙏)

This has not been written yet~ I hope you enjoy, this is gonna get angsty

I’d like to start this off with a refresher of my Toby’s lore. He was raised in a violently abusive household, by a father who was an influential CEO and dreamt of the perfect family, and created it by violently abusing them every moment of every day if they acted out of line. Starvation, mock executions, isolation, and sensory deprivation/assault, were everyday common things for Toby, but the things that struck the harshest chord in Toby were watching those things happen to his mother and sister. So, needless to say, after being raised in a household like that Toby was not in any sort of stable condition. He was on the run for about two years before meeting Slender, and his general condition hadn’t improved at all.

I think Slender probably came into contact with both Toby and his mom (as Toby was still receiving support from her after her freedom was obtained, and he usually lived with her in secret), which is just about the only way I can imagine things going somewhat peacefully. I think his mom stayed with him at the mansion for at least the first few months to smooth things over. Toby did not have an easy time, though. With his fear of authority, he was incredibly rigid and nervous and refused to form any sort of connection with anyone. He was treating all other members the same way he treated his dad, acting firm like a soldier and not doing anything unless “commanded” to, saluting them and acting as though they were his superior. Witnessing his behavior was quite unnerving to mostly everyone else there as they tried to get him to relax, but if anyone other than his mom got too close to him he’d begin rapidly apologizing and begin to hurt himself as a form of “punishment”. Toby’s actions were disturbing and very emotional for everyone in the mansion, and if his mom hadn’t been there to help they would have been much worse. Tim and Slender both worked hard to get Toby accustomed to a normal life, but it took several years for them to get him relaxed to the point where he is today in present time. Slender looked after Toby when he wasn’t working, checking in with him and working with his mom on a regular basis to try and help him understand that everything would be okay now.

Tim took up most of the work in helping Toby adjust, which is why the two of them are so close today. Being around lots of people, especially in an enclosed space like the mansion, made him extremely nervous and scared at a constant level, so usually when Tim would work with Toby he would do so outside. Toby was never allowed outside, so he has no conception of how he’s supposed to behave out there. It’s the one place where he can usually relax and think and act however he wants to, which was advantageous for Tim when it came to deconstructing Toby’s trauma and self-abuse cycle. Tim became a very solid older brother figure for Toby, just talking with him and taking him out to do things, letting him experience things he never got to. He was the first person besides Toby's mom that he formed any happy memories with since killing his father and escaping, and it did a lot for Toby mentally to be able to have that. He quickly became the first person Toby started forming any sort of trust with, and Tim got it to click in Toby’s brain that if Tim trusted everybody else, then Toby could trust them too. It would still be a slow process and like I said take several years, but Slender and Tim did their absolute best to help Toby get to where he is today.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta headcanon #slender mansion mayhem #ticci toby headcanons #ticci toby #ticci toby headcanon #slenderman #slenderman headcanon #slenderman headcanons #Tim wright #tim wright headcanon #tim wright headcanons

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nenelonomh · 4 months

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organization 101

organization is about how we gather stimuli in our environment to complete tasks quickly and more effectively. it's about arranging our surroundings, providing order, and structuring items and activities around us.

this topic can be applied in so many instances - including physical spaces, digital files, schedules, and mental clarity.

staying organized offers several benefits:

★ when you're organized, you waste less time searching for things or figuring out what to do next. this efficiency leads to increased productivity

★ clutter and chaos can contribute to stress. an organized environment promotes a sense of calm and control.

★ organization helps you allocate time effectively. you can prioritize tasks and allocate resources efficiently.

★ a clutter-free workspace (or living space) allows you to concentrate better on the task at hand.

★ organized spaces encourage healthier habits, such as regular exercise, balanced meals, and adequate rest.

but how can you stay organized?

★ start with one area of focus (e.g. closet, desk, documents, ...) and gradually expand. focusing on one area allows you to see tangible progress, and as you declutter or organize, you'll build momentum to tackle other spaces.

trying to organize everything at once can be overwhelming. by narrowing your focus, you can prevent feeling swamped. concentrating on a specific area also allows you to learn effective strategies,, which you can apply to other parts of your life!

★ keep a to-do list. you can use a planner or digital tools to track tasks - and prioritize and sort tasks by urgency. write things down promptly to avoid forgetting them.

by freeing your mind from trying to remember all of your tasks, this mental offloading allows you to focus on the present moment. you can also assign urgency and importance, ensuring you will tackle what matters most.

★ give everything a home. clutter happens when items lack designated spaces. organize your physical and digital spaces intentionally.

★ once organized, maintain order consistently by building habits and systems. regularly review and adjust your systems when needed.

maintaining daily habits can significantly contribute to staying organized.

digital files

personally, the biggest issue i have with organization is building (and maintaining) a good system for digital files. it is crucial for me to learn how to organize these well, however, as a digital creator.

here is the process:

★ create a folder structure,, and design a clear hierarchy of folders that reflect your workflow. organize files logically based on projects, departments, dates, or file types.

at the moment i sort my files as content home < links, content plan, instagram, pinterest, tumblr, youtube < scheduling, post ideas

however, sometimes i find myself with documents that don't fit any of these sections. my plan for the future is to reorganize this to be the most effective it can.

★ use descriptive file names,, and name files clearly and concisely. include relevant keywords to make searching easier

★ consider using tags to categorize files across multiple dimensions. tags enhance searchability and allow flexible organization.

this is something that i am looking to employ!

★ utilize cloud services like google drive or dropbox for easy access from anywhere.

i will forever be a notion girl,, even though it is not quite a cloud service, it allows me a similar experience.

★ make decluttering a routine. delete duplicate or unnecessary files.

★ pin essential folders to your sidebar for quick access.

physical decluttering

writing this, i was reminded of the (horrid) bedrotting trend, especially those videos where people would show their rooms with shit everywhere and mould growing on stuff. i'm aware that some people find it super hard to maintain organization or declutter - hoarding is a very real issue.

the benefits of staying organized were previously mentioned, but decluttering specifically has its own little set of positives. this includes reduced stress, improved focus, enhanced productivity, and more positive overall wellbeing.

here are some essential tips if you are struggling to get started:

choose a small area or category to begin decluttering. set a timer (15-30 minutes) and sort items in that area into 'keep', 'donate', 'trash', or 'unsure' piles.

you could also attempt a room-by-room approach, by tackling one room at a time. focus on completing each room fully before moving on to the next.

try to organize your belongings into categories (keep, donate, sell, discard) to make decisions easier.

remember - progress comes from consistent effort, and small steps lead to a clutter-free space.

further reading

i hope today's post was helpful!

as for further reading, check out these sites: ★ How to Declutter Your Home: 6 Best Room-by-Room Methods (thespruce.com) ★ First Steps to Decluttering - Understanding the Clutter - Being Minimalist ★ Productivity, Organization & Personal-Development | 101 Planners ★ Executive Functioning Skills 101: Organization | Life Skills Advocate ★ How to Be Organized - 10+ Habits - Organized 31 ★ How to Be More Organized & Productive | 10 Habits for Life Organization (youtube.com) ★ How to Be More Organized (verywellmind.com) ★ How to Organize Your Digital Files | Reviews by Wirecutter (nytimes.com) ★ Master How to Organize Digital File Management (riverfy.com)

❤️ nene

image source: pinterest

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creeativesimmer · 5 months

Text

Pretty Guardians Legacy Challenge

A Sailor Moon inspired legacy challenge for the Sims 4

I have always enjoyed playing Legacy Challenges and wanted to one day attempt to make my own. While I am certain there are Sailor Moon Legacy challenges out there, I couldn't find one that suited my fancy, so I decided to create my own updated version. I'm also trying to utilize as many packs/gameplay that I don't usually use. So here goes.

~~This is currently in gen 1 of playtesting, so things might get changed or updated. If you have any feedback feel free to share as some changes may be in order. Also stay tuned for my documentation of the playtest.~~

Basic Rules:

Money cheats can be used, but I wouldn't recommend using it extensively since that's half the fun. But who am I to tell you how you like to play

Mods and CC are okay to use. Feel free to make the heirs look as similar or as different than their counterpart.

You may live wherever you please unless something is specified in the rules of a generation.

All heirs must have a human lifespan unless otherwise stated. Heirs can be either male or female. Just because you're a Pretty Guardian, doesn't mean you have to be a girl. c:

You may have as many children and you'd like unless otherwise stated. Marriage and Live-in Partners are optional, unless otherwise stated in the challenge.

Every generation is supposed to complete both the career and aspiration of the heir unless explicitly stated otherwise.

Would recommend keeping the lifespan on normal, but you may play on whatever lifespan or custom lifespan if you so desire.

Feel free to accept any additional self discoveries, just don't switch personalities unless otherwise stated.

Please take advantage of the Reward traits and potions to help you through each generation

Have fun. I personally like challenges, so I'm adding some additional requirements for each generation for a challenge mode. Feel free to adjust the rules to suit your own playstyle better and complete as much or as little of the generation as you please.

~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~

Generation 1: Pluto

Optional Colors: Black, Red, Maroon

You are the Keeper of Time and this legacy. The timeline has shifted, and the Moon Kingdom is in danger. You and your companion have been allowed to leave your post in order to correct it. This world is different that what you are familiar with. It isn't the Moon Kingdom, nor is it Tokyo. But you do learn there is a place that teaches you the things you need to know, and you find yourself enrolled in school. You must compile this knowledge to develop a new Door of Space and Time to guard for all of eternity from this new world. But not everything is doom and gloom. When you're not trying to fix the world, you find yourself relaxing by playing chess and making things to wear.

Optional: Start off or Become a Vampire, the goal is to eventually become immortal (You may also cheat this if you prefer to remain human) Optional: Have a feline companion who also gains immortality (with the power of many, many age down treats) and lives with each generation to provide them with the wisdom and knowledge. Traits: Gloomy, Genius, Vegetarian? Aspirations: Academic, (Optional) Good Vampire Career: Scientist Skills: Research & Debate, Knitting or Gemology, (Optional) Veterinarian

Complete Academic aspiration and get a degree in Physics

Max Scientist Career along with Research & Debate and either Gemology or Knitting Skills

Create and Upgrade the Door of Space and Time (aka the Wormhole Generator) and place on home lot.

Travel to the Moon Kingdom (Sixam) at least once.

Must adopt at least one child

Heir must be human or have human lifespan (can be adopted sim)

Challenge mode:

(Optional) In order to achieve immortality: Become a Vampire and complete the Good Vampire Aspiration

(Optional) Create all the serums in the scientist career

(Optional) In order to achieve immortality for your feline companion, master the Veterinarian skill and create the Age Down Treats. (Purchasing them is also okay, especially in later generations)

(Optional) Have a garden where you grow most of your food source and death flowers

(Optional) Gift at least 3 knitted items or jewelry to friends or family

(Optional) Complete both Knitting and Gemology skills

(Optional) Use the gemology skill to make you immortal

(Optional) Complete the crystal and geodes collection

~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~

Generation 2: Saturn

Optional Colors: Purple, Maroon, White

Your guardian was always locked up in a lab seeking answers to life's greatest questions. While they still loved and cared for you, their ultimate focus was on their own goals and mission, leaving you alone with your thoughts. The voices in your head make it hard to be alone, so you spend most of your time reading. When you finally meet someone new, you become close friends. But one day when you have a maniac episode where you completely black out, you ruin the only friendship you had. And to save your friend and anyone else from your unstable personality, you become a shut-in with just you and your books. You dream of traveling, but never trust yourself to leave. So you travel through books and fantasy, writing about the adventures you'll never take.

Traits: Erratic, Loner, Paranoid Aspiration: Best-Selling Author Career: Freelance Writer Skills: Writing, Selvadoran Culture, Vampire Lore, + 1 skill of your choice

Complete Best-Selling Author aspiration and write Book of Life for Gen one.

Max Writing, Selvadoran Culture (will likely need to attend classes to sit on to gain the initial skill), Vampire Lore, & 1 skill of your choosing (preferably one that you wouldn't ever use like herbalism, rock climbing, skiing, etc.) that you must master via skill book only.

Only make your money from Royalties and/or Freelance Work.

Make a BFF and and eventually loose your BFF status due to the decline of your friendship

Never leave your lot (unless for a rabbithole event or absolutely necessary)

Complete the Postcard collection.

Challenge Mode:

(Optional: As a child) Become best friends with the first child (or younger) sim that you meet. Can be a Non-blood related sibling, if you're having trouble.

(Optional Mod) Be homeschooled

(Optional: As a teen) Have a falling out with your friend that goes from BFF into the red.

(Optional: After falling out) Never leave your lot (unless for a rabbithole event or absolutely necessary)

(Optional: As a YA) If you decide to move out, you must stay in the same neighborhood as you grew up. Alternative: Stay in your family's home or Turn your family home into a residential rental and stay there.

(Optional: As an adult) You settle the voices in your head. Should you desire, you may replace the erratic trait with a trait of your choosing (as an adult) or via self-discovery prompt (at any point as a YA or older)

(Optional) After accepting your new self, rekindle your friendship with your former childhood BFF.

~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~

Generation 3: Uranus

Optional Colors: Navy & Yellow

Your guardian was a complete shut-in. Always talking about adventures, but refusing to leave home. You're tired of being surrounded by all these books about action and adventure, you want to live and experience it. You develop a need for speed. And since there's no cars in this world, you want learn how to ride. Your guardian begrudgingly allows you to have a horse, but only because they thought it was one of those "I wanna a pony" stages. Turns out, you're pretty decent of a rider, so much so that you can build a living off of it. As soon as you're old enough, you move out of your parent's home and set off on your own adventure. With your career, you have the flexibility to work when you want and travel the rest of the time. While you enjoy riding horses, you're not really about the farm/ranch life. You gain a little fame from work and your adventuring, so you find yourself having to disguise yourself when going out, but it doesn't slow your adventures in the slightest.

Traits: Adventurous, Active, Horse LoverAspiration: Championship Rider Career: None - Make your money competing in horse riding competitions (Alternatively, you can join the Athlete career) Skills: Fitness, Horse Riding, 1 Extreme sport skill (skiing, rock climbing, snowboarding)

Max out skills: Fitness, Horse Riding, 1 Extreme sport skill (skiing, rock climbing, snowboarding)

Finish the Championship Rider Aspiration.

Have at least 2-star fame

Travel more than you work. (ie. compete in competitions 3 days of the week and then vacation 4)

Meet your partner/spouse when traveling

Challenge Mode:

(Optional) Live in at least two additional worlds outside of the one you grew up in. Start in Chestnut Ridge and then move somewhere else.

(Optional) Reach 5-star celebrity and wear disguises when going out. (alternatively create an additional look in CAS for your disguise)

(Optional) Climb Mt. Komorebi

(Optional) Complete 2 of the following additional aspirations: Extreme Sports Enthusiast, Jungle Explorer, Body Builder

(Optional) Gain the Adrenaline Seeker and/or Frequent Traveler Lifestyle.

(Optional) Complete the Omniscan Treasures collection

(Optional) Vacation in Sulani at least once with your children.

(Optional) Marry someone of the same gender.

~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~

Generation 4: Neptune

Optional Colors: Sea green & Navy

You spent a lot of your childhood traveling. While it was enjoyable traveling the world, it was the beach that managed to capture your heart. You heard the ocean's call and you answered with your own. You develop a passion for music and the ocean that you move to Sulani live out your dream to become the siren of the sea.

Traits: Child of the Island, Music Lover, Perfectionist Career: Entertainer - Musician Aspiration: Musical Genius Skills: Violin, Singing, Painting

Master skills for Violin, Painting, & Singing

Max out the Musician Branch of the Entertainer Career.

Complete the Musical Genius Aspiration

Live in Sulani

Summon and Befriend an Island Elemental

Have your heir with another partner before meeting your spouse.

Become a mermaid

Challenge Mode:

(Optional) Become a mermaid after maxing the singing skill

(Optional) Complete the Beach Life Aspiration

(Optional) Have a child with an Island Elemental

(Optional) Befriend a mermaid

(Optional) Seduce a local and marry them after becoming a mermaid.

(Optional) Paint pictures of the Ocean and decorate your house with them.

(Optional) Heir should ideally be human, but if you want to keep playing with mermaids, feel free

(Optional) Complete the Buried Treasure and Seashell collection.

(Optional) Clean up the islands and see the turtle hatching at least once.

~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~

Generation 5: Mercury

Optional Colors: Blue & Light Blue

You grew up listening to your guardian's voice singing into the night. It made you wonder what all was out there. So you took to the books to study what you could. You were a nerd in all senses, with your nose always stuck in a book. You had an absentee parent, so it made you admire your guardian that much more being able to raise you solo and still dedicate so much to their career and passions. It motivated you enough that you wanted to become a doctor, but along the way in your studies you discovered your love of technology.

Traits: Bookworm, Ambitious, Generous Career: Doctor Aspiration: Nerd Brain Skills: Logic, Programming, Handiness

Max out the Doctor career

Get all A's in school

Complete the Nerd Brain Aspiration

Max Logic, Handiness, & Programming Skills

Challenge Mode

(Optional) Gain the Workaholic and Techie Lifestyle

(Optional) Complete Whiz Kid aspiration as a child.

(Optional) Graduate early if you can.

(Optional) Get a degree in Computer Science before joining the Doctor career at entry level.

(Optional) Join the Bot Savants in Uni.

(Optional) Max out either Rocket Science or Robotics Skill

(Optional) Build a rocket and give it all the upgrades/ Build a servo and all the bots.

(Optional) Complete the Space Prints, Aliens, & Space Rocks Collection

~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~

Generation 6: Venus

Optional Colors: Orange & Blue

You grew up surrounded by all the latest technology. But you could care less about the robots and rocket ships, your obsession came in the form of video games and computers. Though despite your knowledge on computers, you were too good for school. You usually would stay up too late at night gaming that you would get caught sleeping in school more than you did actually studying. While you present yourself as lazy in appearance and in nature, you still try to maintain your figure. Because when you aren't gaming, you're fawning over potential interests at the arcade or at school. You seem to cycle through relationships, never maintaining a solid relationship for long. Despite some accidental or unplanned pregnancies, you are determined to be provide a good life for your children, even if it takes a bit of discipline.

Traits: Geek, Romantic, Non-Committal Career: Video Game Streamer, Tech Guru Aspiration: Computer Whiz Skills: Fitness, Video Gaming, Parenting, (Optional) Romance

Must finish the Computer Whiz aspiration

You are a slacker in school so you never get over a C.

Get a part time job as a Video Game Streamer and maintain it at least until your first child is born.

Join the Tech Guru career after quitting the Streamer career. (You don't need to max this out)

Marry at least two different sims

Never have more than one pregnancy with the same partner.

Create a video game based off your alter ego.

Challenge Mode

(Optional) Drop out or get expelled from school. Get your GED before turning into an adult.

(Optional) Finish the Serial Romantic Aspiration

(Optional) Max the Romance Skill

(Optional) Maintain the Streamer Career until you've reached your adult birthday.

(Optional) Max out the Tech Guru Career (eSport Branch)

(Optional) Win the Ultimate Gaming Test and Hackathon at Geekcon at least once.

(Optional) Have a least 3 pregnancies.

(Optional) Always use the highest level of discipline with your children whenever they misbehave. But also encourage them whenever they do something good.

(Optional) Gain either the Supportive or Strict family dynamic with most of your children, but Strict Family dynamic with your heir.

(Optional) Finish the My Sims and Voidcritter Collections.

~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~

Generation 7: Mars

Optional Colors: Red & Purple

You grew up listening to the sounds of your guardian yelling at the tv late into the night as they worked to achieve the highest score. Not to mention the revolving door of men and women that would stay over, some of which stuck around long enough to label themselves as step-parent. Even though you still aimed to make your parents proud, you swore you'd never become them. A failed attempt to set you up with another politician to 'assist' your career was the final straw for you. You cut ties with your parents and seek to better yourself. On your path of self discovery, you learn that you are a vessel of power. You diverge from your current path to follow the unknown, learning more about yourself then you ever imagined discovering. You never wanted children, but somehow you ended up with one. You manage but not without a little help.

Traits: Hot-headed, Self-Assured, Proper (Hates Children) Career: Politician, Freelance - Paranormal Investigator Aspiration: Inner Peace, Spellcraft & Sorcery Skills: Charisma, Wellness, & Medium

Complete the Inner Peace Aspiration.

Master Charisma, Wellness & Medium Skills

Join the Politician Career and stick with it until you reach adulthood or both of your parents pass away.

Go on 2 dates with a co-worker, and realize that this wasn't how you wanted to get ahead.

Never marry.

Have only one child(/pregnancy)

'Discover' your inner power by becoming a spellcaster (may also be born as one, you just never use any powers until finishing the Inner Peace aspiration)

Summon Bonehilda and befriend her

Challenge Mode:

(Optional) Have a good relationship with your grandparent if your grandparents are still alive.

(Optional) Complete the Inner Peace Aspiration before leaving your politician career.

(Optional) Complete the Spellcraft & Sorcery Aspiration.

(Optional) Move into a haunted house after starting Paranormal Investigator.

(Optional) Live in a technology free home (no tvs, no computers, etc.)

(Optional) Complete at least one of each level gigs within the freelance career.

(Optional) Befriend Guidry.

(Optional) Collect a Sugar Skull from every lot that you encounter a tombstone on.

(Optional) Gain the Hates Children personality trait

(Optional) Purchase the Brave reward trait.

~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~

Generation 8: Jupiter

Optional Colors: Green & Pink

You had an odd childhood, growing up surround by spirits both good and evil. You spent more time in the care of a living skeleton than you did with your own guardian. Your other parent is no where to be seen. You learned to fend for yourself rather early on. You found comfort and enjoyment in cooking. Your perfect soulmate is someone who is kind and loyal and enjoys to eat your cooking. And after meeting that perfect mate, you are determined to give your children the best upbringing you could possibly give them.

Traits: Foodie, Loyal, Loves the Outdoors Career: Either Chef or Gardening (Floral arranging) careers, eventually own a retail shop Aspiration: Soulmate Skills: Baking, Gardening, & Floral Arranging

Complete the Soulmate Aspiration

Choose between either the Chef or Floral Designer Career

Master Baking, Cooking, Gardening, and Floral Arranging skills.

Buy and own a retail shop to sell your floral arrangements and cakes.

Marry someone with either the Loyal or Glutton traits

Have at least two children.

Challenge Mode:

(Optional) Complete the Appliance Wiz, Master Chef, and/or Freelance Botanist Aspiration.

(Optional) Live on a lot with Simple Living and you grow most of your food and flowers for your arrangements

(Optional) Complete the Gardening and Magic Bean Collections.

(Optional) Master the Gourmet Cooking Skill as well.

(Optional) Take family photos regularly and hang them all over the house.

~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~

Generation 9: Moon

Optional Colors: Blue & Red

You had the perfect upbringing. With parents who loved and cared for you. Even so, you're still a little scatterbrained and quite the klutz. You have a strong justice for your friends, and will stand up for them in any situation. Your grades suffered in school cause you were out late fighting the forces of evil. You secretly fight for justice, but your family is none the wiser and only thinks you're an innocent teacher.

Traits: Childish, Clumsy, Good Career: Secret Agent (Diamond Agent)/Detective or Education Aspiration: Friend of the World Skills: Research and Debate, Charisma, Cooking

Complete Friend of the World Aspiration.

Master either the Secret Agent (Diamond Agent Branch)/Detective or Education Career.

Have 4 Good friends/BFFs that you meet in high school.

Spend several evenings as a teen out on the town with your 4 close friends or partner.

Have two romantic interests, but one of them starts out with your friendship in the negative.

Befriend and eventually marry the romantic interest you disliked initially.

Challenge Mode:

(Optional) Achieve mediocre grades in school. Never do homework or study for exams.

(Optional) Confront anyone who is mean to you, your friends, or partner. Fighting is an option too

(Optional) You fight justice in secret, but everyone just thinks your a simple teacher. Master the Detective or Secret Agent (DA), then quit to join the Education career.

(Optional) Also master the Education career.

(Optional) Complete the Super Parent Aspiration

(Optional) Have your spouse maintain a better relationship with your heir then with you. (doesn't have to be much)

(Optional) Accept the Jealous personality trait if prompted.

(Optional) Make at least 3 enemies with sims who wrong your friends or family, but later mend your relationships with them.

(Optional) Complete the Holiday Cracker Plushie, Marbles, & Frog Collections

~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~*☆*★*☆*~~~~

Generation 10: Chibi Moon

Optional Colors: Pink & Red/Pink & Black

You loved and adored your parents growing up, especially one more so than the other. You were sweet and innocent for your favorite parent, and little mischievous with the other. But you still were on good terms with both parents. You enjoy drawing pictures as a child and gifting them to your parent. As a teen, you start to be jealous of the attention your guardian seeks from your other parent. You start to be a little rebellious. You become friends with an unlikely individual who sends you down a dark path as a young adult.

Traits: Self-absorbed, Evil, Goofball Career: Criminal Aspiration: Public Enemy, Werewolf Initiate Skills: Mischief, Painting

As a child complete the Artistic Prodigy aspiration

As a teen, meet and befriend a werewolf.

Follow a path of evil as a young adult and master the Criminal Career.

Complete the Public Enemy Aspiration.

Become a werewolf either towards the end of your teenhood or at the beginning of your YA-hood.

Complete the Werewolf Initiate Aspiration

After completing the above, feel free to accept any personality swaps away from your negative traits.

After completing the above, feel free to change Careers to a career of your choice.

After completing the above, change your aspiration to Strangerville Mystery.

Challenge Mode

(Optional) Befriend a rabbit in your youth.

(Optional) Join Drama Club as a Child/Teen

(Optional) Age up with positive character values.

(Optional) Complete one of the following additional werewolf aspirations: Lone Wolf, Wildfang Renegade, or Emissary of the Collective

(Optional) Complete the Cure Seeker Aspiration.

(Optional) Complete the Strangerville Mystery and repel the forces of evil.

(Bonus) Recruit Pluto in your battle against the Mother.

If you do plan to play this legacy, please share your adventures using #prettyguardianslegacy

#sims 4 #sims 4 legacy challenge #sims 4 legacy #sailor moon #sailormoonlegacy #prettyguardianslegacy #ts4 legacy #the sims 4 #ts4

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crismakesstuff · 1 year

Text

new invincible oc!

cele grayson aka celestial !

(they/he/she)

Cele was an artificially grown viltrumite that was apart of a secret project to help repopulate viltrum. They were the only baby that lived through the full gestational period and didn’t die after their birth. They were born august 6th, 1999

Cele was made by taking the DNA of a woman who had died during the scourge virus and of nolan grayson. It was done without his knowledge, he never knew about these experiments as they were only known about by the highest ranking viltrumites. The whole project being personally overseen by grand regent thragg who wanted to find a way to effectively create purebloods without having to mix them with other species.

They spent their early years constantly observed and studied. Days consisted of near endless experiments and exams. They were treated more like a lab rat than an actual person with all their actions under heavy supervision, monitored by thragg who was the only viltrumite they were allowed to interact with during this time. When their powers manifested at the age of 7 training immediately began. Since they were the only success of the program Thragg decided to make sure Cele was a powerful weapon for the empire. Personally taught by Thragg and cared for by General Thula, they came to see her as a pseudo mother figure during this time.

At the age of 14 they were officially made a solider and allowed to go on missions with other viltrumites. At 19 they were put in charge of a planet that had anomalies that defied physics. After a year of being left mostly to themselves the stress finally began to eat away at them and their mental health took a sharp decline. One day during a visit from the generals a gravitational anomaly opened up a miniature black hole in their mental distress and anguish they threw themselves into the blackhole, it later devouring the entire planet with her. The generals barely escaped and witnessed the entire thing believing cele to be dead.

Instead they were spat out into the multiverse from a white hole and spent the next few years surviving on their own and trying to learn how to use their new powers. When they suddenly were spat back out into their universe, they were instead in the Milky Way galaxy instead of the Andromeda galaxy. Remembering that the other viltrumites told him that their father was on earth they headed there.

Only to find out he had just left a few weeks prior after a huge fight with his son, mark. Now they have to adjust to life on earth while they hide from the empire out of fear of being found.

Themes:

With Cele i wanted to really explore the idea of “What you were made for vs. What you want to be”. As well as the trauma that came with their upbringing and them coming to terms with the lack of self worth they tend to feel and the martyr complex he develops from this trauma too.

Another major theme is the “found family” trope. Cele from a young age has always looked for parental figures and people they can feel close too since they were little but their first pseudo parents (thragg, thula) barely treated them as a true person with autonomy. When she comes to earth and meets mark and debbie they begin to really learn what a family should be. This gives them the courage to begin making friends on earth and letting people into their lives.

Powers

Viltrumite Abilities

Superhuman Strength: Cele has strength of a well trained viltrumite of their age allowing them to perform extreme feats. (One such example was when they held up the upper half of a mountain by themselves on earth during a major disaster. Scientists calculate the mass held and then placed back was anywhere from 200-400 tones)

Superhuman Speed: Cele can move at extreme speeds both on foot and in the air. Allowing him to travel around any space with extreme ease. They can fly from the earths surface to the moon in a matter of minutes. They also are capable of traveling through space on their own.

Superhuman Stamina: Due to her smart atoms Cele’s body rarely tires and is capable of physical exertion for long periods of time without becoming fatigued.

Superhuman Durability: Cele’s tissues are extremely durable to the point of almost invulnerability. While they can be damaged by other viltrumites or beings stronger than her they can withstand damage that would vaporize and easily kill a normal human. Able to withstand falling from a planet’s atmosphere onto its surface, nuclear weaponry, the surface of stars and are now invulnerable to black holes.

Flight: like any viltrumite they can manipulate the atoms around them which allows them flight. They are able to reach light speeds when flying but only do so in space.

Superhuman Equilibrium: Cele has a very enhanced sense of balance. However this sensitive process which takes place in their ears means that like any viltrumite, they could be harmed by a specific frequency which would incapacitate them and make them unable to even fly or stand upright.

Superhuman Senses: Cele possesses acutely enhanced senses. Such as hearing, smell and sight. This can also lead to them becoming easily overstimulated, especially when they arrive on earth.

Accelerated Regeneration: her body can recover from injuries at an extreme rate. Even capable of regenerating full organs, nerves and bones. As long as their heart isn’t severely damaged they can and will heal.

Decelerated Aging: like all viltrumites they have an extremely long lifespan. While they are only currently 24, they will appear the same for many centuries. Viltrumites live for many thousands of years, their own father Nolan is over 2000 years old and appears middle aged.

Non-Viltrumite Abilities

(manifest after the black hole accident)

Pocket dimensional void (PDV): Cele can access their own pocket dimension which they refer too as the "void". It is a black oxygen-less miniature dimension that is seemingly endless, although it hasn't been measured. It is mainly used by cele as a sort of infinite storage space, any item placed in here that is not an animal of some kind will stay in the exact same state as it was when placed inside. They also use it asa place to safely decompress and calm down at times.

Dark Matter Portals: Can create portals made of dark matter. These portals can either open up to the PDV or function as traditional portals that teleport an individual from place to place. If too many are opened at once and/or kept open it can quickly tire out cele and even cause them to pass out. It's one of the things that can truly exhaust them.

Gravitational Invulnerability: They are impervious to the gravitational pull of any black hole and seemingly unaffected by them where anything else would be pulled and stretched into its singularity. It is unknown if cele can fully enter into a black hole again and what would happen

Celestial Body Connection: a new manifestation that sometimes suddenly means they feel the power of whatever celestial body they are nearest too. They have no control over this and currently it means they can become completely overwhelmed with the strength of these ancient creatures that are far more powerful and knowing that herself. Perhaps one day they could harness this power but for now it remains more of a hindrance

Singularity: the creation of a very specific type of portal that is a miniature blackhole. No other portals can be active when this is done. Extremely unstable ability thatcan leave cele seriously wounded. The singularity is a writhing, bubbling ultra-condensed amount of gravity that takes a massive amount of strength and energy to control. Only done in space as to not bring harm to any celestial bodies immediately nearby because if it was done directly on top of them it could possibly begin to immediately pull in the planet or star.

-The longer cele does this the more they lose control of it. Once their sclera turn black and their irises begin to glow it means he will be left seriously injured. Their eyes will remain in that state (except their irises will no longer glow) until they are fully healed.

Inspirations

Ellie Williams: while I will say there’s no main inspiration for cele. I do draw a lot of their personality and behavior from ellie. The struggle to survive and stay alive that that then clashes with having to try and “fit in” when arriving in Jackson is something that very much mirrors Cele’s experience with arriving on earth. And cele like ellie has very little issue about hurting/killing others if it means it helps them get to their goal. The world has made them a bit jaded and awkward but there is still much love underneath that

Rei Ayanami: I mainly pulled from the idea that rei was made to be a tool for NERV and taught to be loyal and obedient no matter what. As well as the aesthetic of the lighter hair for cele, they were made to be tool for the viltrum empire and to further its goals. So when they are pulled into the black hole into the multiverse and then spat back out and they head to earth, this all crushes their world view. They learn they aren’t some weapon or tool to be fought over but rather a person with their own agency

Prince Zuko: cele struggles a lot with the internal battle of “what you were taught” and growing out of that mindset. They are constantly compared to their father growing up and then begin to realize on earth that comparison isn’t something to strive for. They spend a lot of time on earth learning to be more vulnerable and making connections while overcoming their viltrumite programming

Princess Azula: cele like azula was the prodigy of their peoples respective leader. They were seen much more of a tool than a person and constantly pushed themselves to be the best they could be. Becoming very powerful at the young age, they have learned to study their opponents and analyze them to find immediate weakness. A tool they will use to help take down the viltrum empire

If you made it all the way to the end thank you for reading! If you have any questions about cele please send it all to my ask box! 💜

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alex-rp · 17 days

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Maya Le Tissier x Reader (PT2)

You’ve moved in and it’s the first game of the season tomorrow, but can you handle a simple movie?

(A/N: I loved writing part 1 - linked below - so I got excited and did part 2! Thank you for the likes on my first! I hope you like this one too)

Warnings: None

You’ve been living together for a week now. It’s been okay, but only because you haven’t had much time alone with Millie and Hayley being around. You didn’t mind though as it allowed you to act like a normal person. On a positive note, it had made settling in with the team a lot easier as you had the support and guidance of your three housemates.

You’d signed late into the window so you hadn’t had too long to adjust and improve on your first training session before the opening game at Old Trafford this weekend. That in itself was a daunting prospect. It was a televised game, in front of a huge crowd and you were likely to feature at some point, even if you weren’t starting. It was a challenge you now felt ready for though.

The evening before the big game, you had decided to watch a movie as a way to relax. Training was far more rigorous today, for obvious reasons, so chilling out was very necessary. Maya brings through the biggest bowl she could find filled with popcorn and leaves it on the coffee table in the middle. The only available space was next to you. Of course it was. Maya smiles happily at you as she lifts your feet up to sit underneath them. “Sorry!” She whispers. “You can put your feet up on me though, as you’ll need to rest your legs to star for us tomorrow” she nudges you with a cheeky smile. That smile… you swear it’ll kill you. You just laugh with a shake of your head.

As the movie wore on, you’d been trying so hard to focus on anything but Maya’s hand running absentmindedly up and down your leg. She’d started off with her arms folded, gently resting on top of you but at some point, one in which you can recall very well, she had decided to test your willpower. You didn’t want to move, but partly because you didn’t want it to stop and you were very unaware if she knew what she was doing. As much as you know you shouldn’t let yourself enjoy it, you couldn’t really help it.

You find yourself watching Maya’s hands move, rather than the movie. Your failure to laugh at a funny scene on the screen draws Maya’s attention to you. That, and your stiffness. “Is everything okay?” She whispers, to avoid drawing any attention from the others. You nod and give her a smile. “Just pre-game nerves. A little premature, that’s all” you inform her, trying to sound confident in your lie. She gives your leg a squeeze. “Anytime you need to talk, or you need a breather, you know where to find me. I know you’ll smash it tomorrow Y/N, but if it gets too much, come to me okay?” Maya smiles at you so genuinely that it hurts to be lying to her in a sense. You find her reaching for your hand. She thinks you need the comfort. You definitely want the comfort, from Maya at least. Who are you to reject it? The second your fingers are intertwined, you can almost feel the tension leave your body. Your captain’s hand fits perfectly with yours. This didn’t have to mean anything, it just your friend being nice to you. Right?

#wsl #maya le tissier #muwfc #woso x reader #woso community #woso imagine #woso #woso fanfics #woso soccer

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yanxidarlings · 7 months

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YANDERE LATIN AMERICA

ik ik they aren't canon characters (yet) but i just have some ideas for some fan perceptions of them. i got a lot of inspiration from live journal for their portrayals. honestly this was a lot of fun to write and i might start exploring other non canons characters that have piqued my interest as well.

tw. this toxic as shit, blood, violence, some suggestive themes, my horrid attempts at incorporating spanish into the dialogue if it counts

MEXICO (José Hernández Valdez Martinez)

• José as a yandere is suffocating, to say the least. He never gives his darling a break from his presence. But all he wants to do is be with his amado, is that too much to ask? According to José, it is not. If they try to get even a moment of peace from him he acts as though they've committed a heinous wrongdoing against him. He goes out binge drinking, neglects his responsibilities, isolates himself from others. It gets to the point his brothers will step in, and deliver his darling to him on a silver platter. If they haven't already turned them self in. Does he feel a bit pathetic? Yes. Would he do it again for the same result? In a heartbeat. • He won't allow his darling to have a life of their own. From their national affairs to everyday life, José will ensure he's apart of it all. He wants to be their closest ally and dearest confidant, so anyone who gets in the way of that better start goddamn running. He'll happily sabotage every relationship his darling has to ensure their exclusivity to him. • There's no way to get privacy with José around, he thinks things like boundries are stupid concepts the USA invented. "Don't fall for Alfato's mudo traps" he jokes, but he means every word he says. • Why does his darling need to lock the door when they take showers or take phone calls with their boss in a different room, José takes sourly to any minute attempt at creating a personal space bubble.

the sounds of water rapidly pouring filled josé's ears, usually we take our shower together at 4, his face contorted into confusion. oh well — dinner can wait, he set down the bowl of rice he had been rinsing. "mijo" josé called out, picking at the locked door "why do you always lock it" he groaned, now he had to go get the spare key.

"josé can i just take one shower" they peered out from behind the shower curtain, eyebrows furrowed "you don't have to cover yourself we've showered together before" he began stripping "just one" pushing past them, he let out a yelp as the ice cold water hit him.

"think about how much we're saving the environment by showering together, mijo!" adjusting the tap, he let out a sigh of relief as the water began to warm up. "you've been spending too much time with manuel" they scoffed under their breath, reaching for the conditioner bottle.

josé's eye darkened "and you have been such a weón, as manuel would say, lately" he snatched the conditioner out their grasp, opening up the cap and squirting out product onto his hands. working the conditioner into their hair, they yelped as his nails scratched against their scalp "don't ever think about anyone but me when we're in the shower" he growled under his breath, ignoring their complaints.

VENEZUELA (Carlos Gómez Delgado)

• There are few yandere's as openly manipulative as Carlos. Most yandere's categorised as manipulative do their work from behind the scenes, but Carlos has no problem telling his darling what he thinks to their face. If he's jealous, he makes it known, albeit by trashing the person and his darlings involvement with them until his darling feels too self conscious to interact with anyone he doesn't approve of. At first he describes himself as having paternal or brotherly instincts to protect them, and whilst that is true, a part of them just wants to be able to control their every move. • Out of all of Latin America, he is among the most openly affectionate yandere's; he's always got a hand on their shoulder, he always refers to them as corazón and has no shame in pecking them on the lips in front of others no matter their gender. He doesn't really care if his darling is fond of his affections, nothing they can do will ever get him to stop, so they better get used to it. • Rejecting his "advice" or affection is perhaps the stupidest thing his darling could possibly do. It's no secret he is not to be messed with. He has no qualms about roughing his darling up if it means setting their behaviour straight. • Don't like it when he tackles you to the ground? he used to hug you but apparently that didn't satisfy your highness. Carlos's moods are a ticking time bomb, once his anger wears off he returns to normal as if he didn't just batter the person he claims is his corazón.

they sniffled, hand held up against where he had laid his hand on them. Carlos hated the sight of tears in their eyes but how else would they learn to be appreciative? he studied their expression as they attempted to calm themself, avoiding his piercing gaze.

"are you sorry?" he finally spoke, his amber eyes meeting theirs "what" they breathed out, bewildered. "sorry or not, corazón?" he leaned in closer, furrowing his brows as they flinched away "ahh, it was just a slap, nothing to cry over" they remained still as he brought his hand up to their face, fingers brushing over the reddened skin.

they remained quiet, only the sound of heavy breaths could be heard from them "do you need another one?" he joked, breaking the silence. but carlos wasn't just joking. he'd happily do it again if they didn't speak soon.

his face was unreadable as they hastily shook their head "words, amorcito" he had shifted closer to them, prompting them to finally speak "i.. im sorry" they stuttered out, avoiding his gaze. "good" he placed his lips to their temple, before dragging them to lay down.

ECUADOR (Esteban Fernandez Romero)

• Esteban is subtle, the true extent of his insanity is known to no one but himself. He's a delusional yandere, who see's his relationship with his darling as more than what it is. What might be a cordial friendship to them is a blossoming relationship to Esteban. He craves having someone to himself, he craves the kind of relationship Spain and Romano had back during the empire, he used to think he wanted to have someone to look out for him no matter what he did, but as he becomes more and more entrenched in his obsession, he's found himself wanting to be the macho man for once. • He might despise tedious tasks such as chores, but if it means catching the attention of his darling, he'll grin and bare it. He helps them with whatever task they might need help with, with no qualms, yet they still don't give him the time of day! He hates the fact that he craves their validation and attention as much as he does, but he'd rather be stuck in a room with america for a week than admit it. • Esteban can handle them using him for their own gain but god, please god, don't ignore him. It drives him crazy, which is something you never want to see in a former Spanish colony. He lashes out, drastically changing his behaviour. Esteban isn't afraid to maim or threaten others when he gets like this, even his darling. • There are few situations that would make him do this in public, perhaps in front of his brothers, but behind the privacy of closed doors, so his darling could never convince others about his true nature.

a loud bang was heard from the kitchen, prompting them to come rushing in to see what happened. "este-" "oh now you care" he spat out, blood gashing from his arm, pots and pans that were once cooking on the hot stove on the floor "only when i do something wrong you look away from your paperwork" he glared at them, grabbing another knife and throwing it at the ground, grinning when they flinched.

"maybe i should start doing everything wrong" stumbling past the hot pans and the cutlery littered across the kitchen floor, he made his way closer to them "speak goddammit!" he barked out as they remained silent, staring at him with wide eyes "i- esteban you're bleeding" they slowly pointed towards his arm, which had been completely disgarded in his fit of rage.

he blinked, bringing his afflicted lower arm up to his eyes, before glancing back at them. "do.. do you want me to patch that up.." they quietly asked, stuck making burning eye contact as he came up close to them.

slowly, he snaked his arms around their waist, leaning his head on their shoulder "clean that mess up as well" he spoke into their ear, bringing his injured arm up to their face and dragging it across their visage. as they went to go fetch the first aid, they wiped the blood from their cheeks.

PERU (Miguel Alejandro Prado)

• It's impossible to see through Miguel and realise his true intentions until it's too late, but under it all he's the most obsessive of the bunch. Unlike others, his darling won't have even the faintest idea of the dark thoughts he harbours towards them. He's Miguel, when he flirts it's nothing but niceties, when he insists on accompanying them wherever they may be going, it's just him being social. It's hard for his darling to tell him to go away when he's such good company, but if they did they would come to find out the true extent he's willing to go for them. • Miguel is honestly just content being in his darling's life, he doesn't feel the need to have a specific label on the relationship, as long as he has a place in their heart, his obsession will go unnoticed. He's apply to be their prince in shining armour and work behind the shadows for them. They don't have to thank him, they just have to love him. • Which is why he simply couldn't handle it if they ever tried to distance themselves. He won't leave them alone, he won't let them get that far. He'll drag them back kicking and screaming if he has to. "oh i just hadn't seen you in a while querido" He chuckles, scratching his neck. He simply invites himself back into their life. • Afterwards, he'll find himself craving to know every detail about them. They can't even go get a glass of water without telling him. He's breathing down their neck at every turn, regardless if they want him there or not.

the door creaked open, miguel tried to avoid making a sound but god was not on his side tonight. testing their reaction, he sighed in relief as they remained asleep. slowly closing the door behind him, it made another unholy crackle, causing his cariño to shift in their sleep. mierda, he cursed internally, gripping on to his pillow.

turning over to face the wall, miguel grimanced "move" he whispered under his breath, trying to coax his darling's sleeping body to face him. what was the point of sleeping next to them if he couldn't admire their beautiful face?

grumbling quietly, miguel slowly approached the bed, placing his pillow next to their head, and gradually sinking down on to the bed. don't wake up don't wake up don't, their eyes opened at the sudden mocement "miguel" they whined, shifting to face him again "i thought we could have a sleep over" he smiled toothily, making himself comfortable.

"we had one last night" they deadpanned, half asleep, definitely displeased to have been awoken "and the night before" miguel only grinned at their words "and now tonight as well!"

BRAZIL (Luciano da Silva)

• Few would expect Luciano to be as clingy as he is. He himself could he the ideal target for a yandere. But what they forget is that he was raised by Portugal and Spain. Not to mention it's always the unassuming ones. As a pretty major world power, he's rather co-dependent on his darling, in matters of country and personal. That's what started it all; his darling always does so much for him, it would be absolutely horrible if he ever didn't have them! It starts off as wanting to make sure his darling liked him enough to stay by him, and turned into an obsession with making sure he is the only one his darling cares about. • He takes up all their time to acheive this, can't go off with other countries when they're stuck helping him with his paperwork, can they? and by helping they're actually doing all the work, but Luciano made sure to prepare snacks and he'll take them out for drinks once they're done! At first he's content having them during working hours until he can't see them when they return home back to their own lives. He should be their entire life. He'll convince them into fulfilling just about every one of his responsibilities, using the excuse "isn't it so great to have so much influence over a country as big as mine" • Sure they do all the important stuff but he promises to repay them in other ways. It's best to just take the bait, Luciano doesn't respond well to rejection. His temperament become abominably clear when his darling rejects his company. He doesn't lash out physically, not yet, but he says some truly vile things, makes some threats, it's disturbing. And the worst part is no one believes his darling if they try to tell others about his true nature. • He's a submissive yandere if his darling doesn't attempt to pull away. He doesn't mind complying with demands or being bossed around, as long as they want him. He can handle anything but rejection.

"querido! what do you think" luciano marched into the study, not caring the slightest that he was disrupting the others work "looks good" they tapped their pen against the paper, in deep thought as they examined the words "you didn't even look!" he skipped up to the desk and snatched the pen out of their grip

with their attention now, luciano did a spin "tada!" he smiled widely "i've seen you wear your soccer uniform hundreds of times" they quickly stood up, trying to chase him down for the pen, but he only kept moving away "football — how many times do i have to explain! and look closer" he held the pen up high in air as they tried to retake it "you forgot to shower?" covering their mouth and nose with a hand, they stepped back.

he shook his head, a laugh escaping his lips "no, it's a new jersey, the colours are brighter" he pointed out the minute details, ignoring the look of unamusement on his darling's face. "just giv-" they quickly reached for the pen whilst his hands were down, only for him to use the opportunity to drag them closer, up against his chest "you left me a mountain of paperwork to do i'm busy!"

his smile fell; they were being difficult again. "you can't take a moment to admire me?" within seconds, he flashes them a cheeky grin. before they could explode into anger, he leaned in and pecked them on the lips, before running out "you can get your frustration out later after the match, good luck with the paperwork!"

BOLIVIA (Julio Paz)

• Julio is overwhelmingly possessive of his darling. He doesn't like to sound dramatic, but they're the only person that really matters to him. The only person he gives a damn about. So the least they can do is stop fucking talking to that ingrato spain or even looking at the likes of the USA. He's as bad as Manuel when it comes to isolating his darling from the outside world. They have him, why do they need other allies or friends, if they're that desperate he'll let them invite one of his brothers over but don't you dare think about associating with the likes of europe or asia. It pisses him off to no end when they go frolicking off with other nations, why isn't he enough?! • He isn't particularly open about his jealous and possessive tendencies, at least not at first, all he can really do is pout and give his darling the silent treatment — but he'll never tell them what he's upset about "no, don't worry about me nobody else does" he isn't afraid to use whatever card he has to subtly pull to guilt his darling into compliance. • Overtime, Julio will get more and more comfortable with expressing his discontent towards his darling, oh you went for tea with england? shame his boss decided to go with chile for that trade deal and not his darling's country. huh, apparently spain visited you the other day? and you let him into your house? what a clutz he is forgetting to turn the burner off when he was using his darling's stove to cook tucumenas. • His darling will find themselves not bothering to leave his side anymore, what good does it do them? or running for the hills, either way, there's no shaking him. Once he's become obsessed there's no getting free.

"aye!" julio barked. what a wonderful day it had been, enjoying a sleep in and then going motorcycling in the streets of la paz, only to come home to his darling packing their bags. "what do you think you're doing" storming in, he began throwing their things out the suitcase, ignoring their yells to stop.

"julio, im moving out" in a stern voice, they stood their ground, gripping his hands so he couldn't continue making a mess of their belonging "oh? you think you're too good for me now that gringo wants to be friends with you, huh"

he ripped his arm out of their grip, shoving them onto the bed "i can't live with you twenty four seven, i have a country to help run!" he wasn't listening to their arguments, he was tipping the rest of the contents of the suitcase on to the floor "julio!" they stood up only to get slammed into the bed, unable to move under his weight.

"maybe that ingrato had the right idea, maybe the only way to keep you in line is to lock you up" he stared deeply into their eyes as he spoke, he finally understood what spain had always said, if you wanted something you had to take it.

ARGENTINA (Martin Hernandez)

• Of all of Latin America, and perhaps the world, Martin is the most unpredictable yandere out there. His darling is constantly left on the edge; one moment he will seem to like them, only for the next to be filled with audacious humour that attacks their character. To his darling, he is a self absorbed man who they prefer to keep at arms length. To Martin, his darling is the menace that lives rent free in his head. He tells himself he thinks they're a boludo, a forro, a chamuyero, a careta, a sorete, every offensive pelotudo under the sun, he'd describe his darling with. • Yet he seems to reserve shitting on his darling as his sole right. Anyone else who tries something similar instantly gets the third degree because who the hell do they think they are. Lovino once went on about Martin's darling being some sort of bastard and got swiftly kicked where the sun doesn't shine. Martin passed it off as drunken rage, but it wasn't an isolated incident. He'd pick fights with the other latin american nations who his darling was having troubles with, of course it always has nothing to do with his darling he was just mad Luciano snubbed him from winning the world cup, that's all, "stop thinking everything's about you". • Martin is highly insecure on how his darling perceives him. When his delusion that they mean jack shit to him starts to fade, he's left with the reality that they see him as a royal jerkwad. Surely they still appreciate how attractive and intelligent and talented he is, right?! • He'll start to look for opportunities to show off — he'll overdress whenever he knows he might run into them, subtly get one of his brothers to drag them to his football games, so they can see how ripped and athletic he is, and.. y'know, he might just trip them over so he can show off his medical skills.

with an oomph, they fell to the ground, descending the stair at a rapid pace, one that would surely not uphold the ligaments in their ankle's, at the very least. "aye, pelotudo!" martin yelled from the top of the stairwell, tattering down the steps hastily, as if he hadn't been the one to put his foot in front of theirs, causing the aforementioned fall.

"are you trying to seduce the ground now" he ragged on, squatting down to their level, gripping on to their arm and dragging them to an upright position. a groan of pain left their lips, which sounded a bit too pleasing to martin. letting out a chuckle "what sort of boludo are you, falling down stairs, are you seven?" he examined their bruised limbs.

with a click of his tongue, he slid his arms under their legs and behind their back, hoisting them up with him. "i can walk-" "sure you can, you overgrown baby" he leg their legs fall to the ground, making contact with a loud crack he winced as they let out a cry of pain. maybe that was a bit harsh he mused to himself as he picked them up once more.

"see? useless bebito" he had this smug look on his face as he peered down at them. they diverted their gaze. "it's okay, i'll take you back to my place and put some ointment on, then tomorrow i'll take you in for an x-ray, bueno?"

CHILE (José Manuel González Rodríguez)

• Manuel can best be characterised as an isolating yandere. Once in his grasps, his darling can say goodbye to their social life. It's not that he's overwhelming and takes up all their time, his darling has plenty of free time with him, it's just that there's always a reason they can't leave. Whether it be dangerous wind currants preventing his darling from returning to their country, him or his darling suddenly falling ill, his boss wants to discuss a new treaty between he and his darling, and on and on. • He would never be caught openly admitting to his tendencies towards his darling. If they were to ever confront him about the isolation he tries to impose, he'd go straight to gaslighting: "maybe it's you who's isolating me, have you thought about that". He himself is in denial, and genuinely thinks it's his darling's own fault he's so enamoured. If they didn't want to be stuck with him they would just leave. He's not exactly America, he can't stop them. • That's what he tells himself, until they take his advice and distance them self from him. Something in him snaps. His only friend thinks they can just pick up and leave? Well shit, maybe he is the obsessed one. • Manuel is quick to break into their house. He'll say he's just paying them a visit, that's what friends do. But his intentions are clear, and his darling comes out of the night shaken up to say the least.

"uhh, manuel?" they chuckled nervously "it's eight at night — shouldn't you be in chile?" they scrunched their nose, something they always did when they were nervous. manuel would know, he'd observed everything about them.

he took a step closer but they took a step back. was it the blank look on his face? manuel tried smiling, but his cariño only seemed more uncomfortable. "am i not allowed to pay you a visit, weón" he tched, backing them up against the wall. he followed their eyes but they avoided his gaze "aye" he grabbed their chin "mucho mejor" he muttered under his breath, their eyes now meeting his.

his face leaned in closer until his lips dance above theirs, hand still sturdy on their chin "manuel" they managed to squeak out from the pressure of his fingers against their jaw "just — let go please" he surpressed a growl, letting his hand fall from their visage.

that same hand took ahold of their arm, dragging them along with him "manuel!" he ignored them "whatever i did im sorry!" he pushed into the bedroom, locking the door behind him.

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redcoralpot · 9 months

Text

Smudged (5)

Summary: Rodrick lives up to his side of the deal, or should I say, community service.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1K

A/N: Okay, so, this wasn't all that was planned for this chapter. Buttt I felt really rushed and hadn't updated this fic in a little over a month. I'll edit this with the rest of the chapter when I get to it, but for now, it's being put to rest indefinitely. Thank you for the support!

The next day, your best friend arrived in English early, much to your surprise. Daniel tossed a notebook onto your desk, slouching in his seat as if he were a drunk, divorced father. You took it into your hand, reading the messily written label, before looking up at the sorrowful boy in front of you. The pages were filled to the brim with outlines, sketches, and ideas; some pictures were lightly colored in.

“I see you’ve been busy,” you quipped.

Daniel hissed, the bags under his eyes more prominent, “This prompt is crap! I’ve been up all night trying to figure out how to do this.”

“You’re thinking too hard about it, Dan.” You pass it back to him, fingers tapping the wooden desk.

“That’s easy for you to say,” he ranted, “you just have drums!”

“I’d rather have the guitar.”

He rubbed his temples, “Not my point. Can’t you come with me tonight to take pictures?”

“In the forest? Dude, that’s every horror movie plot,” you scoffed, watching other students file in.

They sat in their seats or hopped on desks, with one girl rudely scooting on Daniel’s, “I know, that’s why I want you to come with me. I need photos for the presentation board!”

“I dunno if I can, I’m supposed to be going to Rodrick’s house tonight.”

“Since when did you start hanging out with him?”

“Since the need for a decent grade.”

Ms. Kawiti was the last to stroll inside, setting her bag on the table in the front of the classroom. She cleared her throat, and caused all chatter to cease, including your conversation with Daniel. Your best friend grumbled, turning back around, attempting to dodge the long hair intruding in his personal space. The girl herself reluctantly returned to her own place, sharing a few final giggles with her group. You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed and feet perched underneath your desk on a metal bar. There were other boys around the class doing the same, and you adjusted yourself to make the position more comfortable. Why did time have to go so slow when fun is on the other side?

On just another thing you were better than Rodrick at, you did not break any personal property when parking outside his house. Your shoes clacked against the concrete driveway, purple laces swinging, only stopping to knock on the door. The person who answered was not Rodrick, no, but a much older woman with a professional-looking outfit and brown hair to match. She looked so strikingly different from the drummer you knew that you almost backed away, apologizing for coming to the wrong house. Almost.

“Excuse me, ma’am, is this the Heffley family’s house?”

She seemed taken aback, almost wary as she took in your appearance, “Yes, are you one of Rodrick’s… bandmates?”

“Uh, no, I’m Heather’s brother. He invited me over for research,” you shrugged.

“Rodrick and research?” Mrs. Heffley cocked an eyebrow up, slightly stepping back to allow you inside.

You waved your hands, and said, “I know, absolutely unbelievable! However, I can assure you that I’m telling the truth– he brought home some books.”

“And I read it, duh,” a voice called from above.

Rodrick, the devil, hung his head over the overhead railing. He cocked his head at you, sneering. Mrs. Heffley shook her head, sighed, and walked into a separate room beside you; there wasn’t any attention on her anymore. Rodrick motioned for you to come up the stairs, before disappearing again.

His voice echoed, “C’mon, my room’s the coolest here!”

For a split second, you hesitated. You glanced back to where Mrs. Heffley had disappeared, unsure of whether it was appropriate to leave your shoes on and make a mess of the house. Just to be safe, you set them neatly beside the door, before following the other boy up the stairs.

When you finally arrived, Rodrick had already vanished once again. There were multiple doors running down the hallway, but the only hint as to the correct one was the faint sound of guitar riffs. It almost sounded like it was coming from above you, though you decided to peek into the closest unlocked door. This room wasn’t even a bedroom; it was simply a small bathroom meant for one or two people. There was a bit of a smell inside, like someone hadn't flushed the toilet. Hell, as curious as you were, you weren’t going to confirm that.

You barely could close the door before a finger tapped your shoulder, and you flinched, turning around– it was just Greg. The little boy was Rodrick’s unlucky younger brother, who was at least a head shorter than you. He seemed nicer than your acquaintance, and it really made you wonder how the two of them were raised in the same household. Perhaps Rodrick was adopted? Nah. Greg was studying you with a standoffish look in his eyes, the kind kids get when they meet strange family friends. You weren’t surprised; your looks were far from the typical suburban rich boy.

“His room’s in the attic,” Greg said, plainly, “Last door.”

He scurried off to do his own things, possibly to bug his mother about the newest Nintendo game. There was no last door on the left, only a wall that held an uncharacteristically peaceful family photo. Rodrick was still Rodrick, just younger, with devilish messy hair and dirt under his nails. On the right, however, there was a slightly ominous wooden door. In direct contrast to the opposite wall, the door had a sign that read Rodrick Only. It was so childishly Rodrick that you couldn’t help but chuckle under your breath.

One knock, two knock, three knock. The music coming from above grew ever so slightly quieter, and you could hear heavy footsteps coming down the attic stairs. It opened, only to an unimpressed drummer.

“Dude, aren’t you coming?” He frowned.

You shrugged, pointing to the sign, “I’m not allowed in. It’s Rodrick only, remember?”

Said boy rolled his eyes, huffing out a laugh, “You’re the exception.”

“The exception?”

“An exception,” he corrected himself.

You pushed past him, clambering up the stairs, “Whatever you say, dick.”

“Weirdo.”

Rodrick’s room was, to put it nicely, a mess. His bed was undone, random magazines poked out from under his mattress, and you honestly couldn’t tell if the jeans hanging on the railing were dirty or clean. Three, conjoined windows were the only source of natural light, and you swore you could see a spider web hanging off the sill. Posters and grimy t-shirts were plastered all over the walls and ceiling; you doubted any space was left untouched. Rodrick’s drum set sat in the corner, shining like it was brand new.

He was shuffling through a bookshelf behind you, containing almost everything but books themselves, much to your amusement. Rodrick must have seen the quirk of your lips when he managed to pull a thin, perfectly packaged music book from its depths, as his eyes narrowed when he turned to face you.

“This is for the bare basics of drumming, it should cover all that mechanical stuff you have in your outline,” he shrugged.

“You actually read that?”

Rodrick’s gaze flicked towards you, unsure, before his chest puffed up obnoxiously, “Duh, what kinda guy do you take me for?”

…

“I’m not gonna answer that.”

“You’re just too scared to admit that I’m awesome!”

You mumbled, “You’re delusional.”

“Aha! I knew it!”

“If you know so much,” you tapped the cymbal, “give me what I’m here for.”

The

Rodrick groaned, “You’re such a party pooper sometimes.”

“Ironic.”

He swiped the drumsticks from the seat and pointed them at you threateningly, like an annoyed teacher, “Shh.”

Rodrick used the sticks to point out each individual drum part, explaining the noise they make and how he uses them in his band. You scratched your nose while he rambled on, not feeling in the mood to tell him you knew this already. It was only when he started back on the ego talk that your attention drifted to other parts of his room, to all the little details. There was a large poster of a woman holding a dark colored guitar, her hair swept back in a 90’s hairstyle that most definitely wouldn’t be possible without layers upon layers of spray. She had eyeliner smudged across her eyelids, but they had a cleaner edge than Rodrick’s attempts; quite similar to yours. Rodrick was now doing light taps to 4-4 time, nodding his head to the rhythm, eyes closed.

The fan in the opposite corner was making the glossed pages under his mattress flutter and loosen from where they were hidden. If you squinted your eyes, you could just barely make out a part of the photo– were those biceps? If you shuffled a bit to the right, you could pull it out enough that it would flutter out on its own, and that it did. Hell, Rodrick was too busy rocking out on the drums to hear your suspicions being confirmed.

You wouldn’t be surprised if Rodrick had a magazine full of half naked women hanging around somewhere; it was Rodrick, after all. However, one full of shirtless men? That was out of character for the self proclaimed womanizer. For a moment, you thought about telling him that you knew about his stash, but quickly dismissed it. You couldn’t imagine how embarrassing that would be for someone, even an asshole as shameless as him! Besides, who knows how insulated the walls of this house are, right? You bit your tongue, humming along to Rodrick’s music as he made a dramatic finish to the song.

“I was starting to worry I wasn’t keeping your attention there,” he chuckled to himself.

You tilted your head, “I just got lost in the beat, you know how it is.”

“That I do, dude. Was that all you needed?”

“Bingo, you were super useful.”

He grinned, “I’m always helpful! You could literally just ask Gregory his opinion on it, I taught him all about how to survive middle school.”

“The harshest environment, I’m aware.” You stood up.

“Okay,” he sensed the sarcasm in your tone, “you’re banned. Get out.”

“I’m going, I’m going, don’t get your panties in a twist!”

You ran down the stairs, hearing him cackling the whole way down. Rodrick was funny sometimes, you had to give him that. Maybe these next few weeks wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

#x male reader #male reader #lgbtq #male y/n #gay #bi rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley #doawk rodrick #rodrick x reader #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #rodrick rules #transgender #punk #trans male reader #trans ftm #doawk #diary of a wimpy kid

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wreckingtickles · 11 months

Text

Tama v. Bakugo

Yep, this tickling fic was inspired by Tama's absolutely stellar Bakugo piece, which will live rent-free in my mind... probably forever?

Fun fact #1: Bakugo broken with ruthless foot tickling is my favorite thing in the world, it's not even a contest. No. 1 lee, no. 1 spot. Just perfect.

Fun fact #2: Many of the lins the characters say are taken straight from Tama's drawings depicting Bakugo and her favorite teases.

Words: 2,678

What the fuck is happening?

Bakugo glances about in the infinite blank space. White everywhere the eye can see, even below him there isn’t so much as a hint of a floor; and yet, it’s undeniable the contraption he’s sitting in is resting on something; heck, he himself must be sitting on something, though he can see nothing under himself.

Right, the contraption: a set of purplish-gray stocks encasing his ankles, raising them just enough that they’re almost level with his chest, which juts prominently forward as massive manacles restrain his forearms together behind his back. The top of the stocks is a black and curved, and, on top of blocking Bakugo’s view of his feet, he can feel that each of his toes has been tied to it, keeping his soles perfectly spread, vulnerable and immobile.

The only other thing he can see is a small, round table right next to the stocks, lying on something that should be below the floor, and on top of the gray table, a squat bottle of clear fluid, purple-capped and purple-labeled.

Suddenly, a tall, curvy woman is standing right in front of him. Everything on her person is some shade of yellow. What stands out right away is her slip-on dress, barely cladding her buxom form; then, her sea witch-like hair, like carefully permed algae, and… is that a raw egg on her head?

Each of her fingers ends in a long, sharp nail, painted yellow, of course. She’s brandishing an oversized detailing brush, which is almost as big as Bakugo’s foot. There’s something ominous about its purple shell and the hundreds of bristles under it.

“And who the fuck are you?” asks Bakugo, resolute not to show any trace of doubt or fear.

The woman’s voice is saccharine. “Maybe someone who thinks you need an attitude adjustment. Maybe someone who wants to see you relax and laugh. Or maybe someone who’s about to torture you for information.”

She notices Bakugo stiffen at that last remark, so she presses on. “Wanna go ahead and tell me where your hero friends are??” Her request sounds both ecstatic and devious, like she’s not trying to wring information out of him, but about to pull a prank.

“Get fucked,” he deadpans.

“Suit yourself!!” she trills, far too happy at his refusal. But he has no time to linger on her response, because something is leaving a fiery trail on his left foot, starting from the heel and traveling up, towards his toes. Fuck no. Not that. He stills himself, biting his lower lip, determined not to make a sound, to keep his face expressionless.

Her fingernail completes its journey and withdraws, and for a single moment, Bakugo allows himself to hope that will be it; but then, he feels four nails gently scratching at his heel.

“How’s that?” she chirps. “Heels aren’t usually very sensitive, and I’m sure yours aren’t either, right?”

She lets her fingers roam the mound for a few more moments (damn his Quirk for keeping his soles soft and callous-free!), then a single nail starts scratching at the point where his heel begins to flatten into his arch.

“Now this tends to be a loooot more sensitive,” she continues, and Bakugo has to grind his teeth together to keep from making a sound. It’s just one finger. Shit.

But then all four fingernails are dragged up his arch, and the corner of his mouth threatens to betray him. She says nothing, dragging her nails up, then down, then up again. No, he won’t smile, he won’t laugh, he won’t break, he won’t, he won’t! But then the four wanderers reach the ball of his foot.

“Khh!” escapes his treacherous lips, fruitlessly attempting to jerk his foot for the first time, but he immediately regains his composure… or something that resembles it.

“Yes, I think this ball here is very, very sensitive! But where does it tickle the most? Under? Right in the middle? Just above? I think it looks even more ticklish than the base of these toes, and these look sooooo ticklish!”

Bakugo would be cussing her out if he wasn’t so intent on repressing peals of giggling – giggling, him! He won’t answer, not like he needs to, because his warped features, the unrestrained snorts, the twisting of his upper body tell Tama everything she needs to know.

Yes, indeed, it’s even more sensitive than those nice-looking toes. That ball is ticklish indeed, extremely, excruciatingly ticklish. And she’ll play a game with it and the foot it’s attached to.

She makes a show of resting the brush on the table, and Bakugo would be relieved if his eyes weren’t squeezed shut in a long-failed attempt to hide his reactions.

But then four more fingers start scratching at his right foot, and the seal of his lips breaks. “Keh! Shit… Shit-!”

Tama smirks deviously, her hands still moving with the theatrical deliberateness of a clairvoyant interrogating her sphere… except the answer to her question is already quite obvious.

She’s teasing his arches, still going slow, she told herself she won’t start being sort of mean until the dam breaks… and she knows it’s about to.

In fact, it only takes a couple more seconds for his helpless struggling to become that much more desperate, for the volume of his voice to increase so…

“KEH!” he exhales again through gritted teeth, his face flushing rapidly and… poor guy, he already has tears in his eyes.

Tama lingers just a fraction of a second longer on his toes – her nails can easily slip between them, reaching skin that was never meant to be touched – and…

“S-SHIHIT!!” tumbles out of Bakugo’s lips… giving Tama the go-ahead. And as her fingernails begin to move with practiced spit and masterful precision, the professional hero realizes he never stood a chance.

“BWHAAAAAA! BWHAHHAAHA HAHAAHA HAHAHAHA HAHAHA!! HAHAHA HAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAAHHAAHAH!! SHIHIHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH!!!”

With pinpoint precision, Tama targets the top of his heel, then the base of his toes; the bottom of the ball of his foot, then the stems; the center of the arch, then the middle of the ball; the top of the ball, and between the toes. It’s an expert flurry that not even someone far less ticklish than Bakugo could resist, and with both feet at her disposal, perfectly vulnerable, she can target different spots on each foot, introducing Bakugo to a new level of hysteria.

“HAAAAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! HAHAHAH HAHAHAHA AHHAHAAHAHAH!! FUHAHAHAHHAHACK HAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!”

“Theeere we go!!” trills Tama, scratching at the pads of both big toes.

“Now that’s a happy face,” she continues, her left hand focusing on the right heel.

“Don’t you feel so much better just relaxing and laughing like this??” she questions as she slips a finger between each set of toes.

“Seriously, you’ll give yourself wrinkles if you constantly scowl!!” she advises while her right hand wreaks havoc just under the ball of his left foot.

“Happiness is a much better look on you!!” she proclaims, happily scribbling at the base of his toes.

“You are just EXPLODING with laighter!!” she quips right before all her fingernails converge right at the center of the balls of both feet, making Bakugo howl.

“FUUHUHHAHAHAHUCHK!! FUCK! FUCK! GggrrRAHAHHAHHHRRGHAAH!! Fucking stoOHOOP!! THIS IS TOHOOHOHORTURE!! AhGHAGAHGAAHAHAHAHH!!”

Tama doens’t bother pointing out that that is the point – as far as he knows. No, she just flexes every inch of her incomparable skill to make sure that she’s extracting the most distilled form of hysterical agony every second – each one of which feels like an eternity to tickle-addled Bakugo.

“Awwww, so ticklish!! Gitchy gitchy gitchy!! How about here~? Or here~? My my, you’re just a walking tickle spot, huh? Are you just soooo ticklish??? Tickle tickle!!” she teases, knowing full well that Bakugo can understand one word out of three, but her cooing tone is enough for him to realize he is being teased, and that stokes the fire of his powerless rage. He even tries to insult her through the deafening peals of laughter… too bad surge of high-pitched mirth cuts him off when she focuses on the ball of his right foot and the base of his left toes at the same time.

How deliciously he is thrashing, flushing, tearing up, laughing, laughing, laughing, hating her, but really his own off-the-charts sensitivity.

And naturally, Tama goes on teasing him. “You’re such a gigglebox!! Sooo cute!! You just gonna giggle yourself to death?? What if I get those toes, huh?? What are you gonna do then??”

Bakugo is in hell. The worst thing is that he doesn’t even care about the humiliation anymore. He just wants – NEEDS it to stop.

And she does, about ten minutes of desperate laughter later. Not because she’s taken pity on him, no. She needs his sense sharp, lest a single scratch of hers be sub-optimal. And she wants him to be able to make sense of her words.

So as the phantom tickles keep him flailing about, she reaches for the bottle and, calmly, opens the cap, squirts its content in the palm of her hand, puts it back on the table, closes it, and rubs the lotion into her palms.

By then, his laughter has tapered off into steady giggling, which is also dying down. She notices the tears in his eyes and smirks. Then, she proceedd to rub the red soles with her lathered hands.

His limp body instantly stiffens when he feels her touch – Ah, what delightful fear she’s instilled! – though he is too tired to pretend he can put up a fight, and warily lets her rub his ravaged soles, secretly relieved that her touch is dispelling the phantom tickles.

Poor guy, he has no idea how much worse this is about to get, and will keep getting. So she is extra nice with her massage, as if to make up for what she is about to do, while waiting for his sensitivity and his reactions to recover fully. How unfortunate that he has such good stamina!

“Sooo, anything you want to tell me?” she enquires.

It takes Bakugo a long time to answer. “G-get… fucked…” he repeats, his hoarse voice breaking as he’s still trying to project strength.

Tama chuckles. How delightful. But she wears her best scowl as she says, “That’s not nice at all!! I think someone owes me an apology!!”

Bakugo breathes in, then out. He sits upright, blinks off the tears to scowl at her. “Get… fucked.”

Oh, how hard she has to fight to suppress that chuckle! How thoroughly he’s taken that bait! Gobbled it right up, as soon as she lured him into a sense of self-possession, that maybe he could take this.

“Just know I won’t stop until you’re ready to apologize, ok??” she says, and then scratches.

Bakugo YELPS. As much as they’d tickled him, none of his friends had ever introduced him to baby oil. She pauses just long enough for the realization to sink in and register on his features.

Then the kiddy gloves come off.

“AGAGAGAGAGAHHAHAHHAHAHAHA!!! HAHHAHAHAHAGAGAGAGAAFFFFFFFHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAGAGAGAGAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!”

The next ten minutes are unadulterated, coerced hysteria, Bakugo caught in a losing battle between his will and his body. Tama says nothing, only humming to herself. She knows the last of his defenses are coming down. But that’s no good reason to go easy on those footsies, is it?

“RRRRHAHAHAHAGAGAGAGAGHHHH!!!! HAHAHAHAHFHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! PLHAHAHAHAHAHA!! PHEHEHHHAHAHAAHHA!!!”

She focuses on his toes.

“SSSSSTHAHAAHAHAHAHA!!! GHAHAHAGHAAGAHAGHAAA!! PPLHEHEHEHEHAASEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAH!!!”

His arches…

“HAHHAHA!! STOHOP!! PLEHEHASE!!! STHAHAHSTAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAP!!”

Begging, uh? Oh, if he could notice… No matter, he will, later. The ball of his foot.

“FUFUFHAHAHAHAHACCKK!! PLAHAHAHA!!! STHAHAHA!!!! PLEAPLEAHAHSEPLEASEHEHEHE!!! IHAHAH!!! I’M SOHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! HAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHA!!!”

There it is. He’s cracked. Though, to be fair, he probably hasn’t even realized it.

What he does realize is that Tama won’t pause to let him apologize. After all, if he’s too sensitive to even speak, that’s not her fault, is it?

“HAHAHAHAHSSOOSOHAHAHAHAHAH!!! MMHAHAHAHAH”” I’m SOHOHAHAHAHAH---!!”

Oh, he nearly did it! How tragic he’s been consigned to the pit of silent laughter, so close to the finish line! His eyes are vacuous, incredulous, his mouth open and frozen into a manical cackle that just won’t come.

Well, if he won’t apologize, he can take more. So Tama doesn’t stop, doesn’t relent. It takes him all of 30 seconds – probably two hours in Bakugo-time – for all the words he’d been wanting to say to erupt in pitiful string. “STOPPLEASESTOPOKAYI’MSORRYI’MSORRYSTOPITSOHOHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHA!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!”

How loud he is! But, always true to her word, Tama does stop.

Oh, how he instantly crumbles! Like a puppet whose strings have been cut. How he pants, like he’s just run three consecutive marathons! Beautiful. Just beautiful. “Theeere we go!! Now that wasn’t so hard!!”

She rubs his sore feet again – with more oil, of course. His crimson soles positively glisten.

Now for the offer he can’t accept. “Remind me again, where are your hero friends??”

He freezes. He’d forgotten. Ah, that surge of resolve! Now that he’s been reminded of why he has to endure, he’s somehow convinced himself he won’t falter again. She snickers. It’s too easy.

He says nothing – just stares at her defiantly, flushed though he is, tear-trails down his cheeks, soaked hair stuck to his forehead. She smiles. And grabs the brush.

And something inside Bakugo dies as he feels the bristles scratching at his right sole. “FFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHACK!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAAHA!!!! HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH!!!! HAHAHAHHA AHHAHAHAAHHA!!!”

“Ohh, what a scream!! Is this the sweet spot, right at the top?? Perfect, I’ll just keep the brush right here for a while then- no?? Ahaha! Now why would I tickle you anywhere else, when this spot makes you beg for mercy so deliciously~?”

It was a half-lie – he didn’t have the capacity to beg for mercy anymore. Or maybe he does. Well, it is gone for sure the second her free hand makes contact with his left foot, all while the scrub keeps going up and down, up and down…

No amount of screaming or crying will save Bakugo. He’s just there to take it – he can’t, yet he will.

“Wow, your soles are so red. And look at all those nail marks. That must really, really tickle, huh?? Like seriously, it looks unbearable. Good thing you have to take it and not me, huh??”

He can’t understand her, but she keeps teasing to shatter whatever spec of ego is left. She moves the brush to the other foot, but her nails aren’t deserting the first.

He just screams, and laughs, and drools, and begs. Nothing else he can do. And soon, he can’t even do that anymore. Silent laughter. The brush switches foot. Screaming, crying, drooling, begging! He doesn’t even remember what he’s supposed to say to make it stop.

It is pure self-preservation that somehow cuts through the laughter as the brush scrubs up and down his right foot, and her fingernails focus on the very center of the ball of the left. The kill. “AUGKHAHA HAHA HA HAHA HAHA! I’LL TALK!!”

She doesn’t stop.

“BFHAHAHAHA! I’LL TALK!!”

How long until he burns himself out again?

“KGAHAH! KEE! MAKE IT STAHP!! GYA!”

She doesn’t stop. But he’s running on fumes, and he can understand her again. Not for long. So she trills, “In only 30 minutes? And you were such a little toughie, too!!”

She won’t stop. She sees it in his eyes, the moment the realization hits.

“Let’s make it an even hour.”

And a second brush materializes in her free hand. Bakugo bellows – screams – groans – this can’t be happening, but it is. He’s broken, defeated. Two brushes energetically scrubbing at his feet, and having gone through all four stages of grief without any of them diminishing the torment one bit, his mind short-circuits. He’s been reduced to a machine that can do nothing but laugh.

But he doesn’t make it through the hour, no. He doesn’t even last 10 minutes after the second brush is introduced before his body surrenders. He goes limp, still twitching, breathing deeply, passed out, with the biggest cackle frozen on his face.

Tama stops. Smiles. “Until the next drawing,” she trills.

#ticklish!bakugou #ticklish!bakugo #lee!bakugou #lee!bakugo

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