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show-your-fangs · 1 year

Note

I hate seeing sad Hotch but what about Hotch being sad and feeling he’s inadequate but reader does a BIG/GRAND gesture and hotch is floored and becomes like cute puppy hotch and is all like 🥺

this was such a phenomenal request, i just had to add a sprinkle of angst and hurt/comfort bc i am a whore. hope you like it!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x f!Reader

Words: 1.3k

CW: sad, very very sad, angst, sad boy aaron

Tags/warnings: established relationship, lover boy Hotch, reader works at the BAU but isn't a profiler (just in case you haven't read Moments), self-deprecating thoughts, Aaron thinking he's not good enough for Reader, fear of abandonment, Aaron crying, Reader comforts Aaron, super cute ending.

a/n: I imagine this is Moments AU Aaron and Reader after their relationship comes to light and they’re just dating and working together like adults after almost a year of secrecy, so it’s “new” in the sense that they’ve been public for only a few months.

Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.

You hadn’t spoken to him all day, avoided him at all cost, not once stole a single glance at his office, at him. He didn’t think it was strange at first, you were both rushing to finish a mountain of paperwork that had just come in.

He even ignored the fact that you hadn’t sought him out to have lunch together, claiming you were going out to run an errand. But then you left work early, so early in fact that the sun was still out. That’s when he began to panic.

He knew he’d been a little distant recently. He’d had to miss your weekly date night twice, the second time having been the rescheduled date that he was convinced he’d be able to make. But no matter, he’d been called into a meeting just as the two of you were leaving the office.

You’d been understandably upset. When he returned home to his apartment where you’d been waiting for him for the past few hours, you immediately got into a very heated argument, one that as much as he knew was coming, was still incredibly painful.

But that had been a couple of weeks ago, you’d worked through it, talked it out, were done fighting about that. Or at least he thought so.

He knew he was lucky to be with you, unbelievably lucky in fact, and he tried to often show you just how much he appreciated you sticking around after everything he’d been through, after everything you’d been through together.

And yet he couldn’t help but feel like you would be so much better without him, that if he wasn’t holding you back you could be doing so much better. Your career had stalled because of your relationship with him, you were stuck in an endless cycle of having to comfort him, reassure him that everything was going to be alright when he should be the one doing this for you.

He’d caught you laughing, unrestricted, completely set ablaze by emotion a few days ago, and what had struck him hardest about such a normal display of happiness was that he couldn’t remember when he’d made you laugh like that last.

You deserved the world, deserved someone who would show up for you, who would sacrifice everything for you, and as much as he wanted to be that person, he was also terrified of what he would have to do in order to become it.

But he really wanted to, truly wanted to try, to make this work, to prove to you that he could do it, that he could be the man you needed him to be.

He’d left the office the earliest he’d had in a while, making an effort to leave the paperwork he hadn’t been able to get through on his desk. He could get to it tomorrow morning. Tonight he would show up for you, to his apartment where he knew you’d be waiting after you’d unofficially moved in a week earlier.

He had plans to surprise you with dinner from your favorite restaurant, draw you a nice bath, and practically spend the rest of the evening on his knees, worshiping you like a goddess until you simply couldn’t take it anymore.

He was practically buzzing all the way up to his apartment, excitement washing over him like a drug, euphoric and calming. He’d opened the door quietly, not wanting to alert you of his presence quite yet.

But when he finally took in the room, fully dissected what he was seeing, the bag of take out, his keys, and his work bag fell from his hands, loudly banging against the wooden floor.

You practically bolted out of the room, terrified, like a deer caught in headlights. You only calmed down when you noticed it was him, the hand that held a hair brush like a weapon lowering as a realization flashed over your features.

He’d caught you in the act, caught you in the middle of…packing your bags and leaving him.

No, this couldn’t be happening to him, not again, not like this, not you.

“Honey,” he managed, his voice unbelievably small, on the verge of breaking apart. “What– we can talk about this, please, don’t– please don’t leave me.”

Your brows scrunched in confusion, slowly straightening, readying yourself for what you believed would be another fight. That’s when your eyes darted towards the spilled containers on the floor, his keys and bag to the other side of him, discarded.

“I know I messed up, I know I shouldn’t have gone to that meeting, I should have told Strauss to wait until the morning,” his voice was cracking, pathetically, and he wanted nothing more than to have this conversation in the most composed way possible.

But he had not prepared himself to find you like this, to find you in the same way he’d found Hayley all those years ago. Only then it had been his things, and tonight they were yours, and that somehow stung him even harder because last time it had been her kicking him out of her life, and tonight it was you removing yourself from his.

You still didn’t move, your confusion slowly starting to turn to concern as he dropped to his knees in front of you, quite literally getting on his knees to beg you to stay.

“I don’t want you to leave me, honey,” he pleaded. “Please stay, I promise I’ll do better, I’ll do whatever you want me to just please don't leave me.”

His hands wrapped around your legs then, face pressed against your stomach as he couldn’t stop the tears from pouring any longer. His entire body shaked, trembled, quacked against your own, his arms keeping you in place, stopping you from moving anywhere, even if you wanted to.

“Baby,” you whispered and he only tightened his grip. So you stood there, let him get it all out as you gently ran your fingers over his scalp, shushing him gently as he sobbed.

A few long minutes later, the sobs subsided into light tears and he let you unwrap his arms from you. You dropped down to your knees in an instant, cupping his face in your warm hands and pulling his gaze up to meet yours.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you told him, wiping the wetness off his face with your thumbs. “I didn’t know this was bothering you so much, I thought we were done fighting about that.”

He let out a shaky breath, taking in the words you’d just said, allowing them to reassure his rapidly beating heart.

“You’re not leaving?”

“No, baby,” you smiled softly. “I wanted to surprise you,” you turned your body to the hallway leading towards his room, his own bags packed by the door. “I got Rossi to approve some time off for both of us – an entire week of sipping margaritas by the beach at one of Morgan’s friend’s resorts.”

His arms wrapped tightly around your waist then, pulling you further into him. “When did you– how did you? Why–”

“You’re right, that fight was awful, and I realized we both just needed some time alone together. To decompress and reconnect, just the two of us. What do you think?”

“I think that I don’t deserve you,” he confessed, the smallest hint of a joke desperately trying to hide the truth behind his words.

“Oh, but you do, Aaron,” you kissed his nose. “You deserve this and so much more, I just need you to believe it. For me. Please?”

He nodded, his nose gently rubbing against yours before he leaned forward to press his lips against yours. They were a little salty from his tears and you took extra care to lap them all up, to clean his mouth of any reminder of what had just happened, a clean slate for the two of you.

“I love you,” you spoke against his lips.

“I love you too, honey,” he replied, placing another kiss over your lips before continuing. “So much it’s physically painful.”

You giggled then, light, airy, playful and carefree, and he couldn’t help but smile. Now this laugh he’d remember forever.

this was...wow. holy shit. i hated putting baby through that but i think he needed to hear that.

my requests are open for pretty boy hotch, be that moments, dbf!we shouldn't (and yet we do), rough hotch, sugar daddy!hotch, or whatever your heart desires.

tags: @canuck-eh, @ssamorganhotchner

#aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner #show your fangs asks #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst #hotch x reader #moments on ao3 #show your fangs writes #aaron hotchner blurb #show your fangs hotch blurbs #show your fangs moments au

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chronicbeans · 1 year

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Wally and a Puppeteer Reader (part 3)

My brain has gone on with this idea and I love where it is going. Yippee!

TW: Obsessive Behavior, Stalking, Scopophobia/Eye Imagery, Idol Worshipping

🎥 This has gone on long enough! In just a few weeks since that interview, the letters and pictures have increased tenfold! You keep finding Wally in the oddest of places, like on your desk, in the lounge, or even next to your locker. It constantly feels like eyes are watching you.

🎥 Even the contents of the letters are getting stranger. They were always odd and creepy, but at least before they had lighthearted words in them. Now they're saying things like "You're the air I breathe and all I see. You make my days better or worse. You keep me warm and keep this neighborhood bright! Please, never abandon me!" It's all written in that messy crayon writing, too, which makes an eerie contrast to the words that makes you sick. It seems so childishly unaware of how disturbing the words are when thought about for too long.

🎥 The drawings aren't much better. Nine out of ten times, they include you in some way. From the pictures just including you, including you and the characters from Welcome Home, to - worst of all, in your opinion - you in real life places. You sitting at your desk. You sleeping in the lounge. You getting a cookie at the snack stand during the interview. There's even one of you putting on your coat at the lockers. The drawings may not be the highest quality, but they are detailed enough to both be recognizable places and to alarm you.

🎥 You have an idea of who it might be. It's gotta be Wally's voice actor. They were his puppeteer before their arthritis kicked in. They just couldn't move their hands enough to properly puppet him anymore, always complaining that it hurt, despite the medications they took. But, the producer did decide to keep them as Wally's voice actor, saying that nobody could replicate his distinct laughter, tone of speech, and voice pitch. Despite this, Wally's voice actor was properly ticked and hated the fact they were replaced. They're always acting passive aggressive towards you. It must be them, probably to try to scare you away.

🎥 Today, you have decided to confront them. Marching over to their recording booth, you knock on the door. When they open it, they have that signature glare that would put even Frank's to shame. Before they can even ask what you want, you tell them all about what has been going on and how you know they have been doing it. They have to be behind it. All of these drawings and letters have Wally's signature writing and art style. The only person that knows Wally more than you is his voice actor. It HAS to be them!

🎥 They grow silent, before looking at the pictures and letters. Then, they look up at you and say, in the most matter of fact tone "I haven't been able to draw or write anything in character for a YEAR, (Y/N). What makes you think I would put myself through the pain of trying to replicate it after all this time, with my horrible joints, just to frighten YOU, of all people? You aren't worth my time, much less my comfort. You got any other evidence to accuse me of this... Whatever this is?"

🎥 You grow silent. To be honest, thinking back on it, it really is a stupid idea that they would do all of this to scare you. If they couldn't even muster up the energy to go out of their way to verbally confront you, then it would be shocking for them to put the effort to write and draw things to do so. You still have one more question, though...

🎥"What about the voice I've been hearing? It sounds just like Wally. You are his voice actor. You have gotta know something."

🎥 Their eyes grow wide. Then, they shrug "The one that has been saying things about... well, something. It's always a bit too muffled to hear exactly what it is. I thought you somehow improved your Wally impression and were practicing in order to replace me completely. Your impression may be off enough for the producers to care, but it was always the best one here. You're telling me you aren't the one making that voice?"

#welcome home #wally darling x reader #wally darling #welcome home arg #welcome home x reader

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factual-fantasy · 10 months

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26 ASK! :DDDD🎉🎉🎉

I do not.. :/ Sorry!

@mason-gaylord

:DDD Thank you!! ☕ I'm hanging in there as best I can <:) Thank you for the well wishes. I hope the same for you!

@boxofcreampuffs (SKJAJD HORSE XDDDD)

AAAAA THANK YOUU SO MUCH!!! THATS SO SWEET!! I PLAN TO GET BACK AROUND TO BOTH FANDOMS SOMETIME SOON AFTER MY COMIC IS DONE!!💖💖💖💖💖

@chaotic-public-menace (Post in question)

<XD While that is true, this comic is way overdue. Its taken me some weeks to make and it should have been up like a month ago! I just wanna get it done already so I'm trying to not get distracted by FNAF and other drawing ideas-

@ditzyclown

I haven't actually decided on whether or not the other Addison's were good or bad guys. This would change their reaction to seeing Spamton.

I had this idea that Spamton's world is a lot like Seam and Jevil's. Its more cruel and wicked than the original Deltarune.. And Spamton might not have been particularly close with the other Addison's.. They had no time for bonds or relationships. It was a dog eat dog world, every man for himself.

Branching off of that, one idea I had was the other Addison's had become jealous of Spamton's success and tried to kill him by pushing him into the acid pools.. Only for Spamton to survive and reemerge as a horrific looking creature..

If I go with the evil Addison story.. some Addison's might run away in fear just because of how horrific Spamton looks. Though some might deliberately abandon him becuase they hated him/were jealous of him and felt like he deserves this.

If I go with a story where the other Addison's weren't responsible for the acid fall.. they might still run away in fear. Seeing this horrible beast.. not realizing its one of their own.

@bunny-coffee

XD No problem! Soft boi Gregory is best Gregory!

@beryl-shade

In my AU, none of the other Glamrock's know that Gregory exists. But if they did, maybe Roxy would envy it a bit..? Having someone look up to Freddy and not her might hurt her ego a bit.. :(

@elegysonnet

Oh no no, his top and bottom row of teeth are separate. Like these pictures here show,

(Post in question for the pictures)

The top row of teeth all fused together and became one big cracked tooth. And the bottom row did the same. But the two rows are separate and he can still open his mouth.

To think that if while he was initially melting, he had kept his mouth closed? His teeth would have melted together and he wouldn't be able to eat anything easily.. if at all.

Please don't draw fanart of any of my stuff. There are no exceptions.

(Also thank you💖)

@skellacant

Thank you! :DDD

@iziria09

You just made their night XDD

Thank you! I'm hanging in there 😅 I hope you are well too! :}}

They're dry :x

@crimson-thinker

I imagine that Bonnie Bowl might have a flashlight.? And Pirates cove would have a box of confiscated Bon-cams XD

I don't really remember what the other collectables were in the game so I don't really have a reference to go off of..

Buuuut,,, maybe from Bonnie bowl you could also get one of Bonnies signature bowling balls? A purple bowling ball with a rabbit ears print on it somewhere.

And for Pirates Cove perhaps a cheap pirate captains hat? I had this idea that there's 100s of these cheap captain hats that Foxy gives away to the kids every day. So maybe that could be a collectable too? :00

@ninaandthegames

XD Once I'm done with this project that will be me. Posting the most painful angst I can conjure up

I have not. But something tells me its about Hares/Rabbits XDD

@randox-talore

Yeah, me and some friends theorized about that. We thought "Maybe Vanessa or William is taking care of the animatronics and keeping them clean"

But even if they were, you cant help certain wears and tears. They would look noticeably worn, stained, torn in some places and a bit brittle in others after so many years of just existing.

They also missed out on a lot of scares by making them pristine. Bonnie's face could have had a crack/split down the side. "Oh yeah that's been there for a while, its fine" Only for it to fall of later in the movie revealing these piercing red eyes and a Childs head lodged in Bonnie's face/jaw.

Or Chica could have her beak come off or dangle down and reveal colorful wires hanging down.. and.. is that a childs arm.?

(Post in question)

Oh yeah, he'd be scared. Even the Captain is spooked in that AU XD

@kaiserdarken (WAAA SORRY FOR ANSWERING SO LATE! I was originally going to draw something as a response to this but I never got around to it and it got burriedddd.. my apologies. Better late than never I suppose-)

I do celebrate Halloween, which means Bibi and Jangles would as well XD For Halloween I like to dress up in some way and carve pumpkins. Although I forgot to carve any this year and didn't have a good opportunity to dress up unfortunately-

I can see Bibi wanting to dress up and carve pumpkins too. But he might not actually be strong enough to puncture a pumpkin to carve it <XD He'd need some help-

Jangles would just eat all of the candy. Plus pumpkin pie and more candy-

(Again one of those asks I was going to respond to with a drawing but never got around to ittttt.. I'm sorry-)

Its been so long since you sent this I cant actually remember what it was referring to.💀 IM SO SORRY! Its still funny though! <XDD

(Another ask I was going to respond to with a comic- sorry for the lateness!)

Thank you so much! And yeah, "Jangles looks like Papyrus," I get that a lot <XD

(Yet another late ask that was meant to have a drawing attached😭 Sorry!)

(Bibi sweating profusely) "PLEASE do not die for me- I prefer you were alive--"

@minnesotamedic186 (ANOTHER late ask meant to have its own post but I got lazy😭💔Sorry!)

The basic idea for my Kirby AU is that I took the other metaknight's and added them to the Kirby Right back at Ya universe :00 I cant remember what info I shared before because this ask was sent so long ago.. but I'll just recap Axe Knights story because it has the most detail!

Axe Knight was Metaknight's first follower, and best friend. He was with Metaknight from the very beginning. They became star warriors together when they were both a bit young. Axe Knight truly believed in Metaknight. He saw greatness in his friend, he saw a true hero. And he truly believed Metaknight was going to end this war and save the world. Its because of this adoration and belief, that Axe Knight devoted himself to Metaknight and proclaimed himself to be his first follower.

It was not too long after when tragedy struck. A battle broke out and Axe knight sacrificed himself to protect Metaknight. As he lay on the ground, dying from his sacrifice.. he saw Metaknight too laying on the ground nearby. Unmoving, and in a pool of his own blood. Axe knight died with his heart twisted in grief. Thinking that his sacrifice had failed. And that his best friend had died.

Metaknight of course survived, and Axe Knights sacrifice was the only thing that saved him. But Axe Knight didn't know that before he died. Metaknight buried his best friend and left that planet in grief. Forever changed by this loss..

But Axe Knight.. wasn't totally gone. Axe died grieving, thinking that this world lost a great warrior; Metaknight. Thinking that it was so cruel Metaknight didn't get to live longer. To travel the universe and save lives. They were robbed of a hero. Because of Axe Knights failure. His soul was so disturbed that it couldn't move on. He later crawled out of his grave, with a fiery determination to make things right. To go out there and save as many lives as possible. To protect anyone he can and to help all who need him. Because that's what Metaknight would have done.

Eventually after years of blindly wandering the universe.. battling monsters and saving innocents.. he crosses paths with dreamland. He finds himself in a little town full of Cappys.. And then he runs in to a familiar face...

(ANOTHER ASK THAT WAS MEANT TO HAVE A DRAWING RESPONSE IM SORRY-)

I was going to draw a comic of Jangles making a vlog style video. "Hey guys, welcome to pranking with Jangles. Today I'm gonna prank Bibi by throwing this cheese slice at his face!"

He sneaks up behind Bibi who is sitting on a beanbag and reading or something- "Hey Bibi" He turns around

Jangles throws the cheese slice and it completely misses and just splats on the ground. "Oh oops"

Bibi: "????"

@uay778 (The last ask that I was going to draw something for and never got around to. So sorry!)

I was going to draw a comic to this where I replace the bandages with clean, fresh ones. But then they immediately get soaked with blood again XDD Its just a part of my design!

#my response #tw body horror #fnaf security breach #fnaf movie spoilers #fnaf movie #octonauts #deltarune #undertale #spamton #bibi and jangles

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alittlefanatic · 1 year

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hello! would it be alright to request something for a reader who really looks up to howdt as a sort of father figure?

idk man, i collect fictional parental figures like pokemon, welcome home happens to be my latest obsession, and YOU happen to be my favorite fan writer for said obsession, so i figured id ask- no pressure though! college is rough, and i want you to take care of yourself!

I'm going to cry qwq THANK YOU SO MUCH! That means the world to me that I'm your favorite! I never thought that I'd be someone's favorite writer awawawaw.

🐛 Howdy Father Figure Headcanons! 🐛

Child Version

🐛 Howdy LOVES to hold you and pick you up! You are just so tiny and small!

🐛 He would love to give you head pats and even ruffle your hair! (If you are ok with it of course)

🐛 Got a boo boo? He will be right there by your side like a frantic parent! "Are you hurt? I have cute little butterfly bandages! Let's get you cleaned up!"

🐛 He will hang all of your crayon drawings throughout his Bugdega! He wants to show off how creative and how proud he is of you!

🐛 If you knock over a stand at his Bugdega: "It's alright bug! Are you hurt? No? Ok good.. mistakes happen, don't be upset! What do we do when we make a mistake? We clean it up! See? It's better! Mistakes make us feel bad but they don't define us!"

Teenage Version

🐛 He would have you work in his store! "It helps build character and understand responsibility better!"

🐛 With that being said though, he also helps you define your boundaries!

🐛 "You don't want to work on Saturdays and Sundays? Do you need the day off to rest and work on things? That's ok! Thank you for telling me! Let's work things out if we need to~"

🐛 If you are wanting to sell anything, he will help you put up a little stand in his store! He's your biggest supporter and will personally send out your work to other neighbors to get them interested to buy!

🐛 This man has absolutely no idea how to drive a car (mainly because he cannot fit in many, nonetheless drive) but he will try and guide you nonetheless! That is until he gets one of the other neighbors to help. He would get you a little 'beetle' car purely for the name.

Adult Version

🐛 He would absolutely cry at the thought of you moving out but he would help you 'spread your wings' if you did want to move, or at least have a place of your own nearby!

🐛 "My little bug is all grown up! I can't believe how fast it flew by...I'm so proud of you! Know you can always come back to your ol' pops ok? I may be getting older but I still have all these arms to hug you!"

🐛 He would let you take over the Bugdega if you wanted it! He would feel like you would do a phenomenal job.

🐛 If you don't though, he will be your number one supporter and will send you baked goods in the morning for your work as a courtesy gift!

🐛 If you move away, he would send you letters every week updating you about what's going on in the neighborhood and how he misses you and loves you, and that he's proud of you every day!

🐛 He is a very sentimental man, keeping every letter you write to him, or anything you've ever given him. Don't you ever think it wasn't appreciated, because he has a little area in his room dedicated to things from you.

I felt so bad that I haven't been able to write, I got a few more personal things to do then I'm completely free so expect more soon I promise! I'm so happy to finally be able to write more content for this fandom soon it brings me joy Be sure to get some water and a snack neighbor! Howdy would like you to take care of yourself 🐛

#welcome home #welcome home requests #welcome home x reader #howdy pillar #howdy pillar welcome home #headcanon #welcome home howdy #howdy #howdy x yn #howdy pillar x reader

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idontlikeem · 6 months

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i'd like to talk about grieving, a little bit. as in the past, discussions of death and cancer below the cut, don't read if this will hurt you, etc....i'm having a bad day and i just need to stream of consciousness for a little bit. sorry.

so my mom died. if you've read my personal posts before or whatever, you probably figured that out. it happened on thursday february 15th around noon. luckily we had a bit of notice that it was coming, so i was able to drive down the saturday prior and spend time with her—three full days where she was pretty much still herself, and part of a fourth.

it's been a really hard month. like, obviously. but i think a part of me still wasn't quite ready for it. i don't know how.

my mom was first diagnosed with breast cancer in fall 2011. she had a mastectomy and went through chemo, and that was hard and scary, but it was i think technically considered stage one—a tumor that was definitely growing fast, but it hadn't spread out of the area, like not to her lymph nodes or anything, and with the treatment she went almost ten years totally symptom-free. right at the start of the pandemic, the cancer came back, but this time it was already stage four, and it was in her abdomen and uterus and intestines.

there was a time when we weren't sure she'd live more than a year. endometrial and other reproductive cancers aren't 'sexy' like breast cancer is, they're not widely studied and there aren't a lot of treatment options. when she had breast cancer i hated 'save the boobies' campaigns (and please never donate to susan komen), but now that my family has lived with another type of cancer that doesn't have tits as a draw, i hate them even more.

my mom made it four years, pretty much, since the first diagnosis. she did chemo, and radiation, and went on medication trials, and put her body through hell to try and fight it. she lived longer than i think any of us thought she would.

the problem with that is how long i've been existing in a state of grief.

i've had years to prepare for this. i've thought about it literally thousands of times—how i'd feel, how i'd tell people, what i'd do after. i pictured it, because i was trying to plan. i was trying to get myself ready.

turns out pre-grieving isn't real. turns out you can't get this pain out of the way by experiencing it in advance. much to my chagrin. i'm not sure there was a way to avoid it, though. so here i am, with four years of grief behind me, and not one second of it has made what's going on now any easier.

some days i forget. every time i'm on twitter or instagram, there are posts i want to send her, and then i don't know what to do with myself. for all that my relationship with her had its hard times, she was my mom, she was my best friend. i love her more than anything and i don't know what to do with myself now that she's gone.

i've been sort of just surviving for the last four weeks. my apartment is a mess, i'm barely leaving, i haven't been good at responding to people. so today i thought i'd at least clean up a little. i'd gone to target a day or two before i drove down to my parents', and i figured i would start with those bags, because they were just sitting there.

i'd forgotten that i bought valentine's day cards for my whole family that i wanted to send. one for each of my brothers, one for my dad, one for my mom. i never sent them, obviously, i didn't even bring them with me. i burst into tears when i pulled them out of the bag, and i've been crying pretty much all day since then. i'm never going to pick out a card for my mom ever again.

i also have a notes app file sitting on my phone. she wrote each of us letters, and my dad sent them out to us, but i haven't been able to open mine yet. it's the last new thing she'll ever say to me. how could i possibly be ready for that? how do i know when the right time to read that will be?

one thing my mom wanted was to die at home. she didn't want it to be in a hospital, and i get it. she spent a month in the hospital after christmas, and god knows how much time cumulatively over the last four years. the fact that she was able to push to get home is something i don't understand, because she was so sick—but she did it somehow. she was able to die in her bed.

and i was with her. like. i wasn't just at home, i was with her.

something they don't tell you about having someone die is you have to start arranging stuff before it actually happens. when we woke up on the 15th, we knew it was only a matter of time—her eyes weren't all the way open and her breath was labored, and she couldn't talk, although at first she still tried to say stuff. we sat there with her and kept her company and talked to her. hospice came by around 11 or 11:30, i don't even remember, and said that based on whatever measurements or readings they take (pupils? breathing? i don't know), it would be between 4-8 hours, and he recommended that my dad call the funeral home. because you have to do that first.

so my youngest brother was driving down from where he lives, my middle brother was in his room, my dad was in his room on the phone, and i stayed with her, because....well, of course, right? and i was just kind of talking, and crying, but trying not to...i don't know, beg her to stay? ask for more time? the nurse said she could still hear, they're pretty sure that hearing and understanding what's being said is the last thing to go, and i didn't want her to feel bad or guilty, or to hurt herself in an effort to stay longer even though there's nothing more that i've ever wanted in my life.

so i told her, you know, we'll be okay. it's going to be unbearably sad, and it's going to suck, but all the stuff we did as a family with her—we'll still do it. and we'll be okay. and there's nothing more important to us than her not hurting anymore, not being miserable and stuck and just...not herself. all that matters to us right now is her, and she didn't have to worry about us, because we'd be okay.

and she took in a breath. there was a pause. she took in another one. and she stopped. that was it.

i didn't even realize at first, not right the second it happened. the hospice booklet had talked about a 'death rattle', about how it happens almost all the time, but that it's more distressing for the people with the person dying than them, that they're not in pain. how the fuck would they know that, i'm not sure i believe it, but...it's what i was expecting. that didn't happen, though. she just stopped breathing.

the amount of guilt i felt for my dad being out of the room...i don't know if that will ever leave me. he said it was ok, because he was having to deal with stuff, and he'd spent a lot of time with her and it was fine, but jesus. how do i not feel like i stole that from him?

i've felt like a shell ever since. i'm back where i live, and i'm getting up and going to work and taking care of my dog and trying to stay connected to life, but...i don't know.

how is it that she's gone? how is this possible? how am i supposed to go the rest of my life without her?

i had four years to get ready for this, and i wasn't. i don't think there's any way i really could have been, but still. it doesn't seem fair that it was so hard for so long, and for NOTHING. nothing is easier now.

i'm sick of feeling sad, and hurt. i feel like i should be over it or something? i don't know, maybe just less actively affected? it's been a month. people's parents die all the time, right?

what am i supposed to do?

#personal

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bunnygirl678 · 1 year

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Back at it again with another Reguri AU that I don't have time to write. So steal it please! Seriously feel free to write, draw, or use it to distract your mind enough to fall asleep (is that a thing other people do or am I just freaking weird)

-Red and Green are on their honeymoon in alola (duh) and they are doing a fun little couples battle with some of the alolan pokemon they've caught

-one of the tapu's sees them and wants to fuck with them cause they're unhinged (my 5 year old has rewatched the sun/moon anime like 15 times and i still can't remember which one does what)

-sends green back into time (note this is gonna be like dragon ball z time travel where it just created a new timeline or whatever)

-he gets transported midbattle with little red, but like not the championship and most of his pokemon haven't evolved yet

-Big!green is just like awwww you guys were so cute, little!red immediately realizes that somehow Green aged like 12 years in a flash and is obv confused, green explains that he was on vacay with his Red and got sent here somehow, let's go to the lab and see if gramps can help

-they travel to the lab or whatever, and the prof is immediately like "My dead son!" cause my hc is that green looks identical to his dad, and big!green is like nah sorry gramps it's just me from the future

-and they all talk and little!red is like, you aren't an asshole, anymore? and big!green like apologizes for little!green, and is like it may not seem like it but i know he cares about you, because big!green knows that during their journey he realized he had feelings for red, but like didn't want them so he just started being an asshole

-at some point daisy sees the ring and is like "oh you got married?! Whos the lucky lady anyone we know yet?" and big!green kinda like does an awkward quick glance at little!red, and is trying to figure out how to not out his past self because this isn't his secret to tell

-the prof is like 'oh holy shit you and red figured things out' cause he observes and figured it out when green was like 7 or something, and little!red is like wtf and big!green is like yeah but not for a while and then he gives little!red some training just cause what else are they going to do, plus little!red is having a crisis, cause he thinks his version of green hates him

-then it like flips to big!red's perspective and little!green shows up freaking out shouting for his red cause they were just together, and he see's big!red who is swole af and doesn't look that much like his red so he thinks his red has been kidnapped or something, and little!green goes absolutely feral, cause remember he has feelings for his red

-he's like i'll kill you, did you hurt him, where's red, and big!red is like this is the most adorable thing I've ever seen, and like big!green at one point had told him that he had feelings for Red when they were small but Red didn't really believe it until that moment, and also he's like hmmm green and i should adopt cause he's like high on honeymoon and little!green is such a cutie

-Big!Red is like i'm red, it's fine, little!green doesn't believe it until big!red brings up something that like only he would remember like they caught a caterpie together or something idk

-big!red goes and buys little!green some food and they kinda talk and little!green can't stop staring cause wow big!red looks so different, then he sees the wedding ring and is like devastated, and is trying not to cry or whatever and big!red is like able to read him like a book cause it's green even though it's little!green it's still green, and he like pulls out his phone and it's a photo from their wedding and little!green like short circuts cause he didn't even realize that was an option

-somehow they get to switch back and the other timeline red/green work out their issues quickly both with knowledge of the future and they start dating at like 14, cause 11 year olds don't date, and red never goes up the mountain except for the occasional week of training and green always goes with him and it's never angsty like the other timeline

-the alolan honeymooners are just glad to be together again and they finish their time in alola and red's like let's adopt and green's like whatever makes you happy

#namelessshipping #originalshipping #reguri #red x green #i really like the idea of this i just don't have the time and too many open fics i'm working on #maybe it'll get added but whatevs #sorry if it isn't concise #it feels a little all over the place

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snowbellewells · 6 months

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CSSNS23 Fic Update: "Carolina Moon" Chapter Four

I am more than a little embarrassed and sorry about how long it has taken me to update this story. It was never my intention to keep you waiting so long. However, here at long last is an update, and I hope to have another one to you this week yet - and this to be more regular (at least close to weekly) in the future. Thank you THANK YOU to those who have been patient and stayed interested in this story. I hope you will enjoy this new chapter!

Thank you as ever to the @cssns for running such a wonderful event that I have always been thrilled to be part of. And thank you for the gorgeous fic cover art to @eastwesthomeisbest and to @xarandomdreamx for the massively encouraging beta reading and thoughtful comments.

Can be read from the beginning HERE on Tumblr or HERE on AO3

Summary: Emma Swan has returned to the town she grew up in, and the past that has haunted her no matter where she has run. She seeks answers and peace at last. Despite the years that have passed, some things haven't changed very much in Storybrooke, South Carolina, and one of those things is Killian Jones. He never forgot the gangly girl with the world on her shoulders and pain in her eyes, but will he finally be able to slip past her defenses and help her find the answers she seeks?

Chapter Four: No Use Running Anymore

Killian Jones felt his own breath rasping frighteningly in his lungs, barely forcing its way raggedly through his chest as he watched Emma shuddering in his loose embrace, her whole body trembling and the gaze in her eyes glassy and faraway. It scared him, the intensity of the power which had taken her over - beyond either of their control - and he wasn’t sure what to do to help her. He could keep her from collapsing to the ground and lying there boneless in the dark, from hitting her head or flailing her arms, but Killian was at a loss as to how he might reach her wherever she had retreated to in her mind.

Finally, drawing in a sharp gasp for oxygen, Emma’s lungs seemed to fill, and she began to breathe more normally, her eyes were on her trembling hands and she edged far enough away that there was some distance between them, as if embarrassed at having leaned on him and letting him witness her what she’d just gone through. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and it was clear she still felt uncertain and off balance; the weak tremor still running through her limbs as the after effects were visibly obvious. And yet it was the haunted pain clouding her eyes that held him captive, unable to blink, move, or even look away - though he could sense she would like him to do so. Emma might be able to read most of the folks around her and think to hide her own thoughts and feelings, but to him she was an all-too-open book.

At least somewhat assured that she was herself again, well on the way to recovering her breath and her composure, Killian’s mind returned to her staggering revelation without any conscious effort on his part. “Emma… what you said… about Rose’s killer? What did you mean?” he questioned gingerly. His dark brows lowered over his eyes intently, studying her with a concerned but necessary focus. “You said she wasn’t the only one.”

Looking up to meet his searching gaze, Killian could see Emma’s reluctance, and he hated himself for pressing her, even as he knew she needed him to do so. Still, the film of tears he saw in her green eyes and the way one spilled over the lower lid and trailed down her cheek, was almost his undoing; he bit back words rescinding the question with all the force he could muster. This was important, painful or not. Though he knew Emma had to recover, and that she had lived with her abilities - her “sight” - being pushed aside, ignored, belittled, even persecuted, all her life, there was a reason she could see the things she did. Her supernatural knowledge could help as well as hurt. He knew she had used it for just such a purpose in the years she had been gone. He might not have found the right time to tell her yet, but he had followed her successes in Boston, devouring each news story of the “psychic” - he could just see her huff of disbelieving annoyance at the catch-all term too - who could find missing people when all others had lost hope. He had cherished each article of a child found, holding every tidbit of praise for her close to his chest. He didn’t know how things had fallen apart in Boston, or what exactly had brought Emma back to Storybrooke, but he mourned the scars of youth that still lingered in her bearing. A part of him had never stopped hoping she might one day return, but he would never have wished for her to remain so alone and so haunted.

Her trembling fingers caught at his suddenly, as he moved to brush her hair from her flushed cheek, and she held on tight, needing his steadiness like a lifeline in a howling gale. Those wide, emerald orbs were searching his as if not sure what to make of his question. “W-what did you just ask me?” she murmured, voice fragile as a butterfly’s wing on the still night air amidst the crickets chirping and bullfrogs calling from ponds hidden in the trees at their backs.

Was she really so used to being doubted? After so many times she had saved lives, provided answers no one else could, and proven herself over and over, was it still that much of a shock to be taken seriously? Killian was ready to follow her lead, to charge into action at her back, once she had her bearings again and he was sure she would be alright.

“You aren’t going to ask how I know? Where the pictures come from? If - If I’m sure they’re real?”

He shook his head gently, never breaking eye contact with her for a second. This was important, and he needed her to see he meant every word. “Of course not, Lass,” he finally answered, words calm but sure. “I’ve known you all my life and have never known you to lie - or to be wrong in the visions you’ve seen… no matter how they might hurt.”

Looking down at their joined hands, their fingers now intertwined as he held onto her just as tightly. “No questions asked?” she mumbled dazedly, as though encouraging herself to take him at his word. “Really? Just like that?” And when she raised her face to meet his eyes again, there were still the shining tracks of tears on her cheeks, but they were no longer falling; she had blinked them away and a look of willful determination was taking over her features. “Why?” was all she whispered then, staring at him so open and raw it seemed as if she wanted to drink in his every word. “Why would you do that?”

Killian brought their joined hands up to his lips, bowing his dark head slightly over them as he hardly dared breathe, pausing to make sure she wouldn’t pull away before pressing the softest pursing of his lips to her knuckles and holding them there, breathing warmth against her skin. “Because, Emma, as I said… I know you. Love and trust, even basic kindness, have been all too rare in your life. People have always treated you a certain way - the wrong way - doubting you, hurting you, using you until they don’t need you anymore, and then throwing you away.” He wet his lips, trying to gather his nerve and praying he wasn’t about to say more than he should - or that he hadn’t done so already - then plunged on. “I aim to be different. I’m right here with you for the long haul, if you’ll have me.”

For a moment, Emma seemed frozen, stunned beyond response, but she finally shook her head wonderingly and offered him a tremulous smile, still clutching his hand but moving to stand, which he did as well, then helped her up beside him. “How did you…?” she finally asked breathily.

A crooked smile pulled at one corner of his mouth as Killian sighed, gingerly moving to tuck her hand in the crook of his elbow and guide her back toward his truck, still idling on the rough shoulder of the quiet country road. “I know that lost look in your eyes all too well,” he explained as best he could while he helped her with the high step up into the cab. “Our circumstances may be different, but the feeling is the same. We’ve both been lost for too long.”

He closed the door with those words, but Emma caught at his sleeve through the open window, keeping him in place before he could round the front of the vehicle. “Thank you,” she whispered - only two small words, but full of meaning. She would take the support, the belief in her, he was offering. She had been fully prepared for him to back away, to be too discomforted by what the visions did to her for him to stick around. She’d experienced more people like that in her life than she could count or even remember. But instead, Killian had witnessed the flashes of horror and darkness sweep over her, seen how much it took out of her and he was still standing right there looking at her the same way he always had. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so surprised. Rose had been the only person who truly seemed able to understand the magnitude of her gift and curse and was always there trying to help in any way she could. It made a poetic sort of sense that her brother might do the same.

“We have to look into this, Killian. If Rose w- wasn’t the only one…” she stumbled at the thought of her friend’s pale, bruise-mottled limbs against the muddy ground that morning so long ago, swallowing down the nausea in heaving gulps. “If her killer’s kept on all this time… I should have known. I should have done something…”

Tremors seized her once again until Killian pulled her into his chest, holding her tight until she steadied, and then pulling back just enough to firmly cradle her cheeks in both hands, pulling her focus back before she could sink into the void grappling to pull her under. “Hey, no, none of that,” he coaxed firmly, holding her steady until she nodded her assent. His own heart was beating against the confines of his chest, but he would calm it later; Emma needed his certainty. “We’ll figure it out, Swan. I promise you that. If you’ve seen there are others we need to find, Love, then that is exactly what we’ll do.”

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

Early evening dusk had come to rest lightly on the rumpled covers, smushed pillows, and his clothes tossed haphazardly all around the room when Dr. Graham Hunter blinked back into awareness near the dinner hour. Groggily, he berated himself for dozing off so early while attempting to piece together why he had stripped stark naked and went to bed before even having any supper. Then, his brain caught up with him, and he sighed, Ruby’s arrival in his office downstairs, her seduction and his weakness in falling for it once again, all coming back to him in a rush. He scrubbed a tired hand down his face and felt the weight of realization pressing heavily on his shoulders - even before he turned to look at the pillow beside him and his hand reached out for her to find empty space.

He was a fool. When it came to Ruby, he always had been, Graham admitted to himself as he rolled over with a frustrated curse, allowing himself a whiff of her decadent camelia perfume and honeyed musk on the pillow before flinging it away with a growl. How he fell into this pattern with her - crawling to her on his knees when she crooked her finger or batted an eye his way, and then waking up alone and picking up the pieces of his shattered dignity when she vanished (and she always did) - he wasn’t quite sure. He had fallen for it years ago, and yet somehow, despite knowing better, he was still such a lovesick pup over her that he settled for the scraps she offered him every time.

A noise downstairs caught his attention suddenly, breaking into the well-known litany of shame and self-recrimination. Maybe her trying to slip out unnoticed had been what woke him from his doze. Without pausing to think or second guess, Graham vaulted out of bed, pulled on the track pants he’d draped over the chair in the corner after his morning run, and pounded down the stairs, intending to catch Ruby before she made her quick exit. Fueled by angry hurt and adrenaline, he could only think she wasn’t going to get off quite so easily this time.

He caught her with her fingers grasping the door handle, her wicked heels held tightly in her other hand; her intentions blatantly clear. At his strangled call of her name - sounding a far sight more desperate than he’d meant for it to - she whipped around with a guilty, wide-eyed look painted across her face as she stared back at him over her shoulder. Neither of them moved or spoke for several long moments; Graham because he was practically vibrating with desperation, hurt, and anger in equal measure, Ruby seemingly waiting to see what he would do.

‘Or figuring out if she could sweet talk her way back into his good graces,’ his more realistic inner voice chided. ‘Had he still not learned how ridiculous he was to hope for anything else from her?’ Trying to steel his heart against the natural inclination to charm and cajole her back upstairs, to try to get her to stay while he made supper and to spend the evening together - just spend time with him out of bed, actually allow him to get to know her, or even show that she could want something more from him than the occasional physical thrill he could provide.

Before he could find a way to put any of this into words, Ruby tilted her head slightly, a guarded and slightly embarrassed half smile pressing a sweet little dimple into her cheek as she prepared to wheedle her way out of the awkward spot, just as he had predicted.

“Hey there, Handsome,” she crooned, the smile growing when he didn’t interrupt, clearly gaining confidence in her comfortable and familiar ploy. She let her graceful fingers release the door, her hand falling back to her side as she took a step closer to him. “Sorry if I woke you. I wanted to let you rest, even though I got a call and had to head out. No reason you shouldn’t be able to enjoy a break. You work hard enough, you’ve definitely earned it.”

Damn her for knowing exactly what she was doing to him! Graham swallowed hard as Ruby stood before him coyly biting her lower lip and staring up at him through her lashes innocently. One brightly lacquered red nail traced up along his bare chest between his pecs, and he struggled not to flinch, not to let the way his body immediately reacted to her touch be known.

But, of course, she did know what a word, a look, the slightest caress of hers could do to him. He had allowed her to play him like a fiddle too many times before for her to be convinced now by feigned indifference. Graham clenched his fists, closing his eyes for a moment and praying for strength, before catching her wrist and removing her hand from his chest, holding her gaze determinedly as a muscle in his jaw flexed with his aggravation and the amount of restraint it took not to pull her into his arms and give into her playful touch, pretend to buy the poor excuses and give into her charms. He didn’t want to force the coming confrontation; he knew it was going to hurt and likely wouldn’t end in any way he would hope for. Yet, he couldn’t go on blindly like this either - not anymore. He could only hope, deep down somewhere, as he barely allowed himself to wish in his quietest, most raw moments, that she needed more too, that she did care for him more than she wanted to admit. Maybe - just maybe - if he forced her into honesty, she might grasp it and open herself up rather than let him go.

“Please,” he managed to choke out, his voice rasping, but steadier than he had feared it might sound. “Just stop with the excuses,” he pressed on, hating the way her eyes clouded with hurt, those ridiculously big, liquid brown eyes he usually couldn’t deny a thing. “We both know there was no phone call. You just wanted to get out of here before I woke up and tried to get you to stay, to really be here with me longer than it takes for a romp and to scratch your itch. I’ve done a poor job of showing it,” he hurried on, seeing she was about to interrupt, “but I’m not a puppy to trail along behind you and be at your beck and call. You know how I feel about you, Ruby; I’ve been more than half in love with you since we were about ten years old. But I can’t live on scraps anymore. No matter how much…” The words back up and he shook his head angrily, turning his face from her when she reached out to him again.

He’d heard her gasp sharply at his declaration, but she too was shaking her head, a lone tear running down her cheek. There had never really been much hope left within him that she could give him what he needed; she wasn’t ready, or wouldn’t allow herself. The expression on her face and the tension in her long, lean frame - poised to run - told him all he needed to know.

Finally, his eyes dropped to the floor, no longer even wanting to look at her and think of all they could be together, and what he would never have. With a final exhalation of defeated breath, he gave her his terms. “Don’t sneak in here like this anymore, knowing how I feel about you, when you plan to sneak back out again with the sunrise and not give me anything of yourself in return. I can’t do it anymore.”

Ruby’s breath caught on a ragged inhale, as if she were gathering herself to argue with him and then the words fled her in the face of his honesty. He knew if he met her gaze it would be glossed over with unshed tears, panic covering her features at losing the passion and connection they had always shared, but unable to expose her true self - her psyche, her heart, her soul - to keep him. He forced himself to hold his resolve; if he allowed her pain to catch at him, he knew he would have to comfort her. It was who he was, and where his weakness had always been when it came to Ruby Jones.

“Graham…” she finally whispered shakily, her voice a wavering breath not much like the silken purr she usually employed. “I can’t - you don’t understand - “

But he cut her off, gently taking a step back, a safer distance away from her before he crumbled and gathered her up in his arms. “I understand more than you think, Ru. You’re not the careless, untouchable vixen you try to play. There’s more to you, more than anyone else has bothered to see, more than you let show. I want that for you… and for us. And I can’t keep tearing myself apart hoping while nothing ever changes.”

Her shoulders slumped as she saw that his mind was made up, and she blinked moisture from her lashes quickly, biting her lip in determination that she wouldn’t be hurt enough to cry. “You’ll regret this, Graham. You know that, right? Can’t the fact that you are special to me, that I always come back to you, be enough?”

“Not this time, Ruby,” he murmured, sorry already, even as he spoke, but still adamant that he deserved more than the dregs of her attention, even if that meant she left his arms forever.

“You drive a hard bargain, Dr. Hunter,” she commented sadly, one last plaintive attempt at banter with a half-hearted smile that died before the upward curve of her lips was completed. “Ever think maybe you’re asking too much of me?”

But he shook his head slowly, studying her intently now - in a way that didn’t allow her to avoid him. “No, I don’t.” He spoke softly, deliberately, intoning the words that he genuinely believed. “For far too long, I haven’t asked enough. There is so much more within you, Ruby Jones. A capacity for love and greatness that you refuse to let yourself experience. I know that… whether you can see it yet or not.”

She shook her head regretfully, mouth twisted in a sort of grimace. “Then you may need to have your head examined,” she retorted, her hand on the door again.

With her almost gone, and not knowing when he would see her again, or be able to speak with her or touch her, or smell the sweetly ripe and enticing scent of the shampoo she used on that silky mahogany curtain of hair, Graham panicked a bit and recklessly reached out, clutching her upper arms and pulling her just close enough to press his lips to her forehead and breathe her in once more, knowing it might have to hold him indefinitely. He almost took it all back, but clung to his pride by the very tips of his fingers.

“You know, I’ll be here… right?” he murmured, breath hot across the skin of her brow. “If you ever decide you want to make a real go of this…”

Ruby had her pride too though, and that wildness and fear which twined together to keep her running and at enough of a distance from everyone that she had convinced herself she couldn’t be hurt. Tall and as elegant as a statue, that poise trained into her since she could walk, she let out a watery chuckle. “You had your chance,” she warned, trying for offhanded nonchalance. Though it fell far short of her mark, she didn’t back down. “I wouldn’t hold your breath.” She pushed the door open and slipped out of the clinic as quickly and quietly as she had appeared hours before.

Sadly, Graham sighed as he raked his hand through his disheveled curls before bowing his head in defeat. It hadn’t seemed that he had another choice, and yet in the moment he felt as though he had just made the worst possible mistake… and lost something he might never get back.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

Once she’d left Graham’s clinic, Ruby found herself wandering aimlessly. Of course she’d returned to her snazzy little car and rummaged around in the duffle she’d stashed in the back for a more normal and less blatantly seductive outfit. She didn’t have any trouble wriggling into it in the backseat undetected. It was a slow, sleepy, late afternoon in a small town, creeping toward dusk, and there was no one in sight. However, by the time she had finished and settled herself back in the driver’s seat, Ruby was sniffing back tears and angrily wiping the silent tracks of those which had already escaped down her face. ‘Why did he have to ruin everything?’ ran on a fuming, repetitive loop in her head, crying out against her desire to shrug it off as if it didn’t matter that much anyway. They’d had some good times, and he was a catch, sure, but Graham Hunter wasn’t irreplaceable she tried to convince herself. ‘He wasn’t happy with her in his bed? Fine. He’d be sorry once he’d been without for a little while.’

The rant she was trying to build up in her head sounded good, but she couldn’t put any feeling behind it - not really. She wasn’t even fooling herself. Graham was different from the other men she had charmed, toyed with, and strung along for a time. He always had been. She simply hadn’t wanted to admit that truth, and now it was boring its way into the center of her chest with all the strength of a drill bit. ‘How in hell had that happened?’ She’d sworn she wouldn’t give a real damn about anyone - not since even her own parents couldn’t be bothered to save a care for her. ‘How did he sneak through the cracks?’

‘Because he does care about you,’ a chiding but concerned voice that sounded a lot like how she remembered Rose’s whispered in her mind. He was there before you tried to lock everyone out, it added, and she shook her head, trying to scatter the unwanted reminders. With a growl of frustration, she swung back out of the little two-seater, noticing vaguely that though Storybrooke did not look very lively there were several small shops heading back toward the town square that had not yet closed for the day. ‘A distraction,’ she decided firmly, with a sharp dip of her chin and squared shoulders. ‘Take my mind off it for a minute, and before long, he’ll be in my rearview.’ The self-comfort rang a bit hollow, but she was already loping down the sidewalk with purpose, looking for something to catch her fancy.

The Sweet Shoppe on the corner had their door open, allowing a decadent and enticing scent of buttery pastry to drift out to passersby. Ruby grinned, cheered at least a little by the prospect of flaky layers of cinnamon sugar, crackly baked dough and butter in one of their famous pinwheels. One of those treats certainly wouldn’t right all that had gone wrong since she’d woken in Graham’s second story apartment an hour ago, but it surely couldn’t hurt, and she was grinning in spite of the hollow ache which had settled beneath her breastbone by the time she opened the door and entered the shop to the sound of the little bell above it chiming merrily.

Sure enough, she did feel rejuvenated after biting into the freshly-made and still warm delicacy. By the time she stepped back out of the bakery onto the sidewalk - one pinwheel happily devoured after practically melting in her mouth, and another bagged up for later in her hand - things didn’t look quite so bleak.

As Ruby headed on down the sidewalk, slowly starting to convince herself - for the time being at least - that she was recovering her equilibrium, she found herself reaching Emma Swan’s new store front, the displays in her window truly beginning to look much like a big city gallery and the potted flowers out front on the walk looking nearly ready for the upcoming grand opening. Some old, deep-seated pettiness stirred at first, as her dark eyes took in the signs of Emma’s determination not to quit - every bit as stubborn as any of the Joneses, too much so to back down, no matter who tried to keep her away.

But the longer she stood there on the pavement hopefully out of sight of anyone who might be inside since she was standing there gawking like she’d been frozen in place, Ruby couldn’t muster up the indignation and hateful bitterness she’d harbored before. Much as she had been hopeful to at last please her mother with her compliant agreement, or continue to feel hurt and jealous over the kinship Emma Swan had shared with her lost twin, the anger just wouldn’t come. In hindsight, with the light of day and the wisdom of years in between, she knew that Rose’s murder, the horror of that nightmarish day lost in the muggy, strangling soup of that long, horrible summer had not been Emma’s fault. In many ways, Emma had been another victim; one who kept being punished instead of laid to rest.

Despite the messes she had already made that day, Ruby determined that she was going to stop following the chosen family line. She would never earn Cora Jones’ elusive approval anyway, so why should she continue making herself and others miserable in pursuit of it? She had just reached out to try the door, just in case Emma was there, when the woman herself pulled into a parking space and exited the ancient VW that Ruby actually remembered her leaving town in years ago.

“Ruby Jones?” Emma questioned, her brow knit in concern as she moved to stand beside her on the sidewalk. “What are you doing here?”

Ruby shrugged a bit sheepishly, with what she hoped was a convincing smile. She wasn’t about to admit all that she’d just been thinking, and so she was at a loss for how to explain her presence.

“You can’t think I’m crazy enough to leave the place unlocked, surely?” Emma queried, moving the bag she carried to the opposite arm and fishing a ring of keys from the bag at her side. “Not with how many people hate me setting up shop here. Speaking of, wouldn’t egging the place be a little simpler than trying to break in?”

She quirked a challenging brow at Ruby, but also waited patiently for an answer, standing in the opened doorway as the warm air drifted through around them. And Ruby had to give her that one; she had never dropped even a single hint that she would simply pay Emma a friendly visit.

Finally relocating her usual sass, she winked, slipping in the door on Emma’s heels before the other woman could change her mind. “Nah, that’s for the riff raff. I can do better than egging if I really want to make my point.”

“I bet you can,” Emma drawled, looking bemused by the whole situation.

Rather than saying anything else for a moment, Ruby roamed around the small but beautifully arranged space, taking in all that Emma had done to make the building her own and have it looking its best. She couldn’t help being drawn in by the photographs themselves as well. While she might have been too hardheaded to acknowledge it before, her eyes were open now to recognize that Emma Swan truly had a gift - one for capturing her subjects in a way Ruby had never seen the like of before.

Emma, meanwhile, had moved to the counter to deposit her things and turned to watch Ruby Jones with genuine curiosity. Not speaking, she merely observed, wondering what had changed to bring a self-appointed enemy to her doorstep, seemingly anxious to play nice. Someone could have knocked her over with a feather, as the old saying went, when Ruby suddenly turned with a broad smile from where she’d stopped to study a huge canvas bearing a close-up of a single, stunning, blood-red azalea blossom as its focal point. Some sort of mischievous glint was in her eye that Emma didn’t fully understand until she asked, “Any chance you’d sell this one to me before your official opening? It’s just the thing my mother ought to have for her birthday.”

Too startled to catch the surprised snort of laughter that escaped at Ruby’s words, Emma slapped a hand to her mouth, eyes wide in shock. The brunette vixen she had always somehow felt was looking down her nose at her, looked genuinely pleased with her reaction, her pearly white smile broadening even more to look sharp and dangerous as well as alluring.

When she thought herself capable of calm speech instead of disbelieving laughter, she met Ruby’s eye and replied, “Oh, that can certainly be arranged, especially for such an illustrious recipient as your mother.” Emma was capable of her own sweet as pie with steel beneath expression, and she employed it now with a stealthy smirk of her own that made Ruby’s eyes widen in their turn. “Of course, I might have to charge you extra for not letting me be there to see her face when you gift her with one of my photos.”

The deal was struck, and somehow the unexpected exchange between them was healing. Nothing more needed to be said, but the years of avoiding one another, skirting painful history and old grudges, were past, and a weight fell from both their shoulders. They were two completely different people, with very different experiences and unique wounds to bear, but the one person they both had in common, and the fierce, proprietary love each had held for her - which had always stood between them - had brought them together at last. Just as Rose had always wished. As they laughed at their own impudence, and the vision of Cora’s affronted face when she realized the full import of the present, Emma gift wrapped the large frame, and Ruby gladly paid her for her first sale. Emma could almost feel her old friend’s presence over her shoulder and the echo of Rose’s sweet voice cheering her on.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

He’d nearly gotten caught that morning, lingered almost too long as the dawn’s first rays spread across the sky, bringing light and warmth to the the early gray and beginning to dry the dew on the grass. ‘Should have remembered the little hellcat can’t sleep through the night! Never has been able to!’ he cursed to himself as he awkwardly lunged into the deep underbrush a few feet from the porch. He felt damned lucky she’d chosen to come back to the little cabin of horrors so close to the woods, and so secluded from any neighbors… That could have been a fine end to things before they could really get going - and he’d bided his time far too long already, been more patient than a man should rightly have to bear - to get caught with his hand in his pants on her front porch and blow everything he’d worked for. She’d go running then - just like she’d done before.

Emma Swan would not escape him a second time. Just as they had been all those years ago, all the points were aligned, but now he was ready and prepared - he wouldn’t allow her to slip from his trap. Still, he needed to be careful… couldn’t afford any mistakes.

Dark, hungry eyes watched from the safety of the trees as the screen door flew open and his quarry dashed across the porch, down the rickety steps and into her car. He drank in her curves like a wino would savor the first sip from a hard-won bottle. Hard again, he gritted his teeth before succumbing to the empty pleasure of his own hand. ‘Not much longer,’ the mantra repeated in his head. ‘Not much longer, and she will be mine.’

It was almost too easy; she had stepped into his web better than he could have planned, more naturally than he had dared to hope. It wouldn’t pay to get overconfident, but he could feel everything falling into place.

Oh, he could bide his time a little longer - after all, he’d waited this long - but soon she would be within his grasp. Just the two of them, and no one near enough to interrupt, or be any the wiser. She wouldn’t be able to run from him then.

Tagging a few who may enjoy: @cssns @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @xsajx @sotangledupinit @winterbaby89 @bluewildcatfanatic @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @xarandomdreamx @booksteaandtoomuchtv @bdevereaux @caught-in-the-filter @anmylica @stahlop @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @motherkatereloyshipper @jonesfandomfanatic @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @wefoundloveunderthelight @belovedcreation @scientificapricot @kday426 @linda8084 @lfh1226-linda @ineffablecolors @blowmiakisscolin @elfiola

#cssns23 #cs movie/book au fic #carolina moon #psychic emma #cs au mc #chapter four #fic update

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whumping-valentine · 6 months

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🦌 Fawn and Hunter - Part 8 🦌

"Fawn's Punishment"

Content: Restraints, belts, intended non-sexual spanking, defiant whumpee, unearthed childhood trauma, slight nsfw warning (or full nsfw warning idk where y'all would draw that line. Basically whumpee accidentally finds out they have a kink. This is the only time the series will get nsfw.)

1,600 words

Hey, part 8! Who's ready for our little Fawn to finally get put in their place? I know I am! :)

Sorry for my absence recently. A few weeks ago my brother and his friend dragged me out to chaperone a concert 2 hours away when I was starting to feel sick, and I'm disabled and couldn't sit the entire time unless it was on the floor, then I got the full on FLU, then while sick I started my period, and I haven't been able to do anything for over a week. I couldn't focus and was angry and depressed about it and how sick I felt but whatever. In all honesty it was awful. And then my pet turtle died and my brother got into a car accident (he's fine).

It's been stressful, though now I'm finally ready to get back in the swing of things. I'm not too happy with this part but I blame the aforementioned reasons for it. It feels choppy and weird but whatever. I'm just gonna hit post and get it done with.

Anyways, yeah, hope you like it!! 💕

Fawn was once again tied to the bed upstairs. Though rather than being able to lay on it, their hands were bound behind their back, tied to the bedpost as they sat on their knees. They’d spent hours trying to desperately break free, though it was all for naught. All that they were left with were sore, bruised wrists, embedded with rope marks. Not to mention how bad their knees hurt, unable to switch positions.

They were so sick and tired of everything. Of being angry, scared, fatigued, and hurt. Constantly fighting between their beating, anxiety-ridden heart and their uncaring anger. They were more mad at Hunter than anything, but their stupid disorder fought against them. It made them afraid. Afraid when they didn't want to be. If they didn't have anxiety, life would be so much easier.

No being fearful of anything unnecessary. No feeling like you're running a marathon while sitting at home in bed. No nausea or sensation of vomiting. No aches and pains and panic attacks. No fear.

Yet here they were, feeling like they were about to have a heart attack, hands shaking, almost a sensation like they were being set on fire. Like they could feel the blood surging down their arms to their hands. Fear and anger were their least favorite emotions, yet they were the only ones they could feel. They weren't normally so feisty and vulgar. Though despite how much of it they threw at Hunter, they saw right through them.

They saw how soft they really were. How small, fragile, and pathetic. They hated all of it. Being perceived as both mean and feeble. Their fighting was their coping mechanism, the swears, the kicks, the biting back. They hated being perceived as weak.

Soft, yes. But that doesn't mean weak.

Most people don't get that.

Though now, they were tired of being strong. In this moment, they were weak. They loathed it. They wanted to fight back, and cry, but nothing ever changes when they do because to Hunter it means nothing. Now here they were, on their knees in a dark cold room waiting for Hunter to do God knows what to them.

Fawn was a lot like Hunter in the sense that they just wanted to be left alone. Fawn wanted to go back to their new old home, back to the animal shelter, back to working a simple daylight job at the gas station. Keeping to themself, nature, and animals. Not being perceived at all.

Unfortunately, that was merely just a wish. The door to a room creaked open, light entering from the hall as Hunter stood in the doorway. Fawn refused to look at them. A tense moment was held in the air as neither made a sound, Hunter just standing there while Fawn kept their head down. After a while, Hunter stepped into the room.

“So,” they said, “you think you can rummage through my things and destroy them? Tear them to shreds?”

“They weren’t your things. They were missing posters.” Fawn grumbled in discontent, still keeping their head down. Hunter grabbed their hair and forced them to look up, smacking them harshly across the face with their other hand.

“You are in no place to be talking black to me, especially not right now! You wanna destroy my fucking things? Then I’ll destroy you right back.” They said, a growl to their tone. They untied the rope from the bed post and yanked them to their feet, grabbing onto their arms.

"Grrr, let go of me!" Fawn yelled and kicked as Hunter tightened the grip on their fragile arms, pushing them out of the room as they hopelessly fought.

“No, you need to be taught a lesson.”

"No! No I don't! Fuck you!"

“Yeah, yeah. Keep yelling. That’ll help.”

Hunter dragged them to a chair, roughly throwing them down on it, almost knocking it backwards from the force.

"Every other time I've hurt you, it's because I've needed to help you out of something you caused. You stepped into my trap, so I took you into my home and fixed your leg. You break my window, so I pick out the pisces and give you stitches. You get sick because you’re a weak little baby, so I take care of you out of the kindness of my heart.” They said semi-sarcastically, “But now I'm afraid it's time for you to face some true consequences."

“Oh yeah, like fucking what?” Fawn growled, “Do your fucking worst, I don’t care. Fucking shoot me. Kill me like hunters are supposed to do with their prey. Fucking end me, you coward.”

“Oh, darling little fawn, we’re in far too deep for me to do that now. No, I’ve grown to quite like you. It gets lonely all the way out here, and I find you to be entertaining. You aren't going anywhere, I’m afraid. But you are going to listen to me. My cabin, my rules.”

Hunter took off their belt, folding it, the leather wearing and peeling off of it. Fawn glared at them, their eyes slowly widening.

"Hm, what's going through that pretty little head of yours? Relax, if I wanted to do that to you, I would've done it already." Hunter said, approaching them, proceeding to slap them across the face with it. "Besides, I wouldn't want to fuck something that acts like a bratty child."

"If being a bratty child is the only thing keeping your creepy hands off me, I'll gladly keep it up." Fawn said, not even reacting to the slap.

“Keep my hands off you, yes. But not my belt.” They hit them again.

“You know what I meant.” Fawn grumbled, then kicked them in the legs. “Get away from me.”

“You’re in no position to be making demands at me.”

“Or fucking what? You’ll smack me with the belt again? Yeah, yeah. Been there, done that a thousand times. You’re supposed to be some serial killer, aren’t you? You're really fucking shitty at it.”

Hunter pulled their hair, "You wanna act like a brat? Then you can get punished like a brat. Is that the game you want to play? You wanna play that game? Because I can.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, spank me like a child, why don’t you. That’ll teach me a lesson.”

“I don’t appreciate your sarcasm.”

“Yeah well I don’t appreciate being tied up and held hostage by some strange feral person in the middle of the woods, so I guess we’re even.”

Hunter yanked them up on their feet and threw them over the table so fast and unexpectedly that Fawn yelped. Just as quickly as that happened, they felt their pants get yanked down, and a belt roughly lashed against their bare skin.

"Ah! What— what are you doing?"

"What do you think I'm doing? Act like a child and I'll spank you like one." They brought the belt down again.

Fawn's face blushed red in embarrassment. This was humiliating. It wasn't a sexual spanking, rather they were being spanked like they were a misbehaving kid. It felt like their childhood all over again. Being hit and spanked by their parents for the most trivial of things.

They'd just finally gotten away from it.

Now they were right back where they ran away from.

“What’s the matter? I thought you said this would be like nothing, didn’t you?” Hunter taunted.

“Y-you— you can’t just spank another adult and have it not be weird!”

“Hey, you’re the only one making it weird. Why? Do you like being spanked?” Hunter teased, and brought the belt down harder. Fawn jerked and let out a surprised squeal. Hunter chuckled darkly. "I think you do."

"Shut the hell up." Fawn nearly cried. The tone was cracked and scared, not angry. "Stop it. Stop it! I'm not a child, stop it, I'm not— you shouldn't— you can't punish me!"

"Then stop acting like one. That's the point. Because you're a child. It's not my fault you're a freak who likes being hit."

"I do not like it!"

"Yeah, sure. Maybe not by me, but you do. You're clearly humiliated though, which was the goal. So it works."

Fawn shut their mouth and stayed quiet as Hunter talked and hit them. As if they couldn't make their embarrassment any worse, their brain, throat, and tongue plotted against them, as they involuntarily pleaded, "Mom, stop."

"Aww, am I reminding you of mommy? Were you spanked as a kid? How sad." They condescended, hitting them harder. “Childhood traumas that turn into adulthood kinks, how unfortunate for you.”

“No… you... you don’t remind me of my mother.” Fawn said sadly, “You’re far too nice for that.”

Hunter was about to bring the belt down again, but the statement surprised them, causing them to hesitate, bringing it down in a light tap, rather than a spank.

Hunter grumbled to themself under their breath, then said, "Fine. You're done. For now." They untied their hands and threw them onto the floor, "Now pull up your pants and get out of my sight. I think you should spend some time alone, be sure to think of me in the process, though."

"Fuck you. Pervert." Fawn spat, and Hunter left.

They were so mad at themself. How that turned them on. They knew it wasn't their fault, it was just a bodily reaction, but still. They were being spanked by their captor, just like their mother used to do. That shouldn't turn them on!

They were frustrated in more ways than one, and wanted to rip their hair out. It wasn't supposed to be sexual. Yet here they were, feeling assaulted and ashamed.

This was not their fucking fault. This was not the consequences of their actions. They wouldn't let Hunter manipulate them with their bullshit. Won’t let them groom them into thinking they’re some kind of authority figure.

They’d sooner wish for the apocalypse then to be subservient to them.

You're all gonna see a turning point for Hunter the next few chapters, so I hope you're ready for some focus on them. Also this part wasn't originally supposed to get a bit sexual, but that's just where it ended up when I wrote it. Hope it's okay, it's my first time ever putting out anything nsfw so I'm a little bit nervous 😅

Taglist: @parasitebunny @whumpy-wyrms

Lmk in the comments if you want added or removed !

Thank you for reading ! 💕🦌

#fawn and hunter #whump #whump blog #whump community #whumpblr #my writing #whump writing

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atinyjules · 1 year

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please write a woonhak fic 😞 it would be so cute if it was like a first love/kiss thing

TEDDY BEAR FT. WOONHAK pt. 1

Oml suree! I have been waiting for ages for someone to request a Boynextdoor fic so I am so happy!

I'm kinda busy these days so I split the parts so this one is basically the confession part and I'll make the next part on the first date and first kiss🤧😭

🤧So without further a do! Here it is!🌠

"Because of you...I was able to come out of my shell and live life with no regrets."

Summary: Where Woonhak meets his first crush and best friend after 5 years of not seeing each other because of a teddy bear which played a key factor in creating the bond they have.

Genre: Childhood friends to lovers trope , romance, fluff, crack.

Pairings: Childhood friend!Woonhak x reader

Warnings: None

Woonhak had loved teddy bears for as long as he could remember. He got his first bear from his dad when he started kindergarten, he carried it everywhere he went and surprisingly still had it. Except, now it made it's home on top of Woonhak's shelf where it according to his mom watches over him now. Overtime it had become worn out but Woonhak still insisted to keep it not only cause it was his first bear but also because it was the reason he was able to meet you.

"Woonhak! I already told you five times this week to clean up your attic!" he groaned at the mention of the attic by his mom who then pulled his ear.

"Are you even listening?" she questioned making Woonhak wince in pain.

"Oww-ow-eomma it hurts!" he exclaimed as she let go.

"Clean your attic now or no lunch!" she exclaimed and left him as his stomach grumbled.

"I'll have to clean the attic now I guess." he mumbled and jumped up on his bed and clicked open the stairs to the attic and went in, immediately regretting doing a summersault and after climbing in which resulted in the dust flying everywhere.

He quickly opened the windpw and fanned himself as he let out a sigh of relief.

"That was close..." he said and coughed as he started cleaning the attic. Woonhak had been vacuuming the place when he caught sight of an all too familiar light blue coloured box, he smiled as he pulled the box out towards him.

"Woonhak's memory box." he read out the paper written and pasted on the box which 6 year old Woonhak had made. Opening the box he was taken by surprised at the contents of the box. Old toys, expired candies, drawings, photo albums, books, stickers, a hoodie and a teddy bear necklace.

Wait...a teddy bear necklace?!

"It was here all along?! I thought I lost it forever..." he trailed, voice going quiet at the end of the sentence as he put on the precious jewellery over his head.

Woonhak's

"God, I miss her..." I mumbled grazing my fingers over the bear.

I then picked up the photo album and smiled at the first picture of the album. It was me holding my beloved bear next to a pink adorned y/n who smiled at me. As I flipped the page a pink envelop fell from the book making me furrow my eyebrows as I picked it up.

"What's this...To my dearest Woonie...from your bestest friend y/n...what in the world-" I stopped mid sentence at the first line of the letter.

I know I've probably already moved by the time you read this letter.

I thought it'd be better to tell you since we might not meet again.

"You idiot...why am I like this?!" I exclaimed and slapped myself for not finding this letter sooner, I continued reading the letter.

Back in kindergarten I was really quiet and was often picked on by our classmates and one day you came and rescued me...I haven't forgotten it even though I insisted I did. It's a memory I'll never forget.

I'm sorry I kept that secret from you...I was scared you'd say no if I confessed my feelings so since I'm leaving I thought I'd tell you now...hehe.

If we meet in the future...I hope you can maybe accept my feeling even though I doubt you will.

"Woonhak...IDIOT!" I exclaimed as I fell to the ground and let out a frustrated sigh when I heard mom call for me downstairs. I made my way down quickly since mom sounded really hurried but froze mid-way down the stairs once I caught sight of said girl who was currently in my mind.

"Woonhak! Remember Y/n and Jaehyun?" mom said as she looked at me and smiled.

"Hi, Woonhak...long time no see!" she exclaimed as Jaehyun waved at me. Mom proceeded to drag my surprised figure down, right infront of her.

"You didn't forget her already did you?" mom asked as I shook my head.

"Y/n...h-how are you?!" I exclaimed as she chuckled.

"I'm great, you seem to be doing well!" she said as I felt a wave of emotions attack me making my eyes water as I hugged her tightly.

"I missed you..." I mumbled as she hugged me back.

"I missed you too.." she trailed as Jaehyun and mom looked at us fondly.

"Sooo, what have you been up to?" she asked as I awkwardly rubbed the back of my nape.

After having lunch the both of us retreated to my room to talk.

"Nothing much really." I said as she smiled.

"Oh...is that the bear from kindergarten?" She asked after catching sight of it.

"Oh yeah! Wanna see?" I asked and stood up to bring it down from the shelf and gave it to her.

"I'm sorry it's really worn out and dusty." I said as she shook her head.

"No, no! It's completely fine." She said and proceeded to pat the dust away from the bear's head.

Y/n's

I felt nostalgic as I held the now worn out teddy bear in my hands, thoughts going back to kindergarten.

"Leave me alone..." I cried as the bullies laughed and pushed me to the ground.

"Why? Is y/n gonna cry?" one of them spoke up and pulled my hair making me break into a sob when a voice caught their attention.

"Yah!" I looked up to see Woonhak approaching us with shakey legs, holding his bear."What do you want you wimp?" the bully asked as he puffed up his chest and stood infront of him.

"Leave her alone!" he said making them laugh as he huffed.

"What can someone as tiny as you do?"

"You-Yahhh!!" Woonhak exclaimed and started hitting him with the teddy bear making the bully wince.

"Yah! Stop it!" he exclaimed as Woonhak continued attacking the bullies with his bear, chasing them away.

"That's what you get for making Y/n cry!!" he exclaimed and raised his teddy bear in victory.

"Y/n you okay?" he asked as I smiled and wiped my tears, nodding.

"I am now...thanks for saving me Woonie." I said and hugged him causing a bright red tint to graze his features as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"No problem!"

"Woonhak...thanks for saving me back then..." I trailed as he widened his eyes and shook his head.

"Don't thank me! I did what I had to do...to protect you..." he said making me chuckle as I hugged the bear and looked at him with a smile.

"Because of you...I was able to come out of my shell and live life with no regrets." I said and blused as Woonhak chuckled awkwardly and looked down trying to avoid me from seeing him burn up.

"I-I...uh...I'm happy that I could help you live life cheerfully...cause...you were the reason that made school...amazing..." He trailed making me look at him with wide eyes as he finally gained enough confidence to look at me.

"I...uh...I like you a lot." he said making me turn red as he cleared his throat and gulped.

"Woonhak...I...I like you a lot too...even more I guess!" I exclaimed andlooked away as he scratched the back of his neck.

"Uh then...would you...I mean...we should...I mean...uh...we should go out for lunch and stuff sometimes..." he mumbled when Jaehyun poked his head inside the room.

"Y/n...time to go." he said as I stood up and gave him the bear.

"2pm at Saturday?" she said making me look up at her with wide eyes.

"S-Sure! I mean-YOU BET!" he exclaimed making me chuckle as I smiled at him and retreated to my hotel.

_______________________

I am so sorry it's so short! I'll try to post part two as quickly as possible! But I hope you guys enjoyed this enough to wait for part 2? ♥

Well thanks for reading! ☁🌠

Likes and Reblogs would be appreciated🌠

#boynextdoor masterlist #boynextdoor imagines #woonhak #leehan #sungho #jaehyun #taesan #riwoo #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor ff #boynextdoor fic

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if-loki-was-a-fox · 9 months

Note

I just randomly found ur blog and am now OBSESSED with the whole avian!mumbo concept

…….tell me everything there needs to be known abt it please I want to draw little bird boy (even tho my main way of doodlin mumbo is vampire but I WANT BIRD)

(apologies for the ramble I live laugh love moustache man)

(here's the previous avian!mumbo post for anyone curious)

It has taken me far too long to get the chance to respond to this ask and I have been so impatient because adjsaklfhaskghjd someone actually saw and enjoyed my unedited babbling about avian!mumbo :')

anyways I think I already said most of what I have coherent ideas on, and the rest is just nebulous vibes and happiness and fluff and hurt/comfort potential, but! I can share doodles and also reiterate/expand upon stuff I have already said

(putting it below a cut so I can make it soso long)

WING FLAPPIES!! I feel like this would definitely be something he'd appreciate about having wings, because I feel like it would be a more satisfying expression of emotion than like. stomping or bouncing or whatever. He would also totally struggle to control his avian body language, you can read his wings/ears/tail like a book, he's so unused to paying attention to and stifling his bird gestures. (Grian finds this beyond hilarious especially, because he can read Mumbo even better than everyone else being another avian)

His wings are red and black, though I haven't entirely decided if I'm gonna switch which goes where to make it match Grian's wings better. Since Grian is a Scarlet Macaw, Mumbo really ought to be too, but that would look just. so goofy. with his color scheme

AND SPEAKING OF LOOKING GOOFY- his wings look so silly for the first couple weeks. Until the feathers grow in properly, they're just kind of gradually more fluffy. raw chicken. wings. stuck to his back. because that's what baby parrots look like apparently! And then also pin feathers, before finally being pretty feathery bird wings

He also just accidentally passively collects the other members of Boatem's clothes. Grian does this too, but intentionally. Mumbo just does it without realizing and then gets confused about it because he doesn't understand the whole nesting thing, so someone else has to explain it to him

Oh and Mumbo tries to just go about his life without any changes or accommodations for his wings at first, because he doesn't want to ruin his clothes or generally have to change his routines. Grian and the others do not put up with this and persuade him to take proper care of the wings instead (<- this is a constant uphill battle for months)

On a more overarching note, Mumbo initially Does Not Like the wings, because they're just tiny and kind of ugly things that get in the way of his elytra and make him have to get all his shirts edited and they don't really do anything but cause him problems. Then once the wings start getting feathers and stuff and they have to start making preparations for learning to fly, it kind of becomes a bit of a bonding thing that brings Boatem together, with Mumbo starting to get used to them and accept them, and everyone else being able to help out with their care some (preening, stretches and exercises...).

Ultimately (probably sometime around HC 9), Mumbo ends up quite loving his wings in the long run. Once they're fully grown they're actually pretty impressive (since he's so tall they end up being a fair bit larger than Grian's, much to his annoyance) and Mumbo ends up putting a fair bit of effort into their upkeep and keeping them all nice looking (at least, when he's not too busy with other projects). He does still find a bunch of the other avian traits a little embarrassing (nesting, chirping, dietary restrictions, wings giving away his thoughts...) but he gets used to them.

#me answering asks #avian mumbo jumbo #avian!mumbo #mumbo jumbo #rambling about blorbos #rhyme glanced at my screen while I was writing this and accused me of writing an essay 😔#so uh. no pressure to read the whole thing. it is kinda long :P #hc8 avian!Mumbo au #thanks pheonix!

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justsomestoicguy · 1 month

Text

The Red Means I Love You

It's been a week since my ill-fated slip-up with Stain.

He left things off on a "let's continue this another time" note. But it's the kind where he purposefully tries to steer away from the topic.

And honestly? I'm grateful we haven't resumed that convo, because I am far from ready yet.

But on a lighter note, I managed to escape my group's wrath with the 'ol "family emergency" excuse.

Well… mostly.

Tanaka gave me hell for ditching the project and my work. I had to play the sympathy card hard, claiming, "Family's complicated, you know?", knowing damn well she wouldn't buy it for one bit. But hey, it was enough to keep her off my back.

So now, I've settled into a routine: Ops on Tuesdays and Thursdays—schoolwork and friends the rest of the week.

Oh, and keeping in touch with Stain through a burner phone. Very secret agent-y, if I do say so myself.

Today, I'm back at the 2nd Training Corps, which apparently only consists of Toga and me for now.

I had some suspicions about why Stain placed me here with her, and they were immediately confirmed when Stain mentioned Scourge left him a list of people to take in in case of a worst-case scenario (shrewd as always, Scourge).

He thought that, by extension, that also meant getting me close with said people, and so he did what he did and put me here.

It left me wondering, though, what other names are on that list? Dabi? Twice? Other "salvageable" members from the League of Villains?

Unfortunately, I couldn't ask Stain about it since he's too busy running the Ops. Dude's surprisingly competent.

And as for Toga, well…

"Ran-kun!" she calls out, her voice bright and bubbly. "You done sweeping over there?"

I finish up the last bit of dust and lean on my broom, glancing at her. "Yeah, just about. Sensei'll have our heads if she finds a speck of dirt left."

Why are we on cleaning duty, you may ask? Well, because according to our very wise and very pretty mentor, Onibi-sensei (or just Sensei as we call her), "Discipline is the key to success."

Not quite what I imagined when I signed up for secret vigilante work, but hey, I'll take what I can get for now.

Toga skips over to me, her smile widening. "It's kinda fun, y'know? Doing this with you."

"Sure," I say, forcing a chuckle. "As long as it doesn't involve getting yelled at, I'm game."

We've been getting along pretty well, all things considered.

Unlike me, Toga has happily left her old life behind. And while I know her reasons (thanks, MHA fandom), I'm waiting for her to tell me herself. Building rapport and all that.

But, of course, it's never that simple.

Toga has a... unique way of expressing affection.

Case in point: she pulls out a knife, eyes twinkling with that signature, unsettling glee. "Ran-kun…" she addresses sweetly, almost innocently.

Great. Just great. I sigh, trying to keep my cool.

"No, Toga-chan," I say firmly, holding up a hand.

Her smile falters, eyes darkening with a hint of hurt. I quickly add, "You shouldn't just rush into people like that. It's not polite. You should ask nicely first if you want something from them."

She blinks, caught off guard. For a moment, I think I've made a terrible mistake. But then her face lights up with pure unadulterated joy.

"Oh! Okay! Er, Ran-kun, can I taste your blood, please? Pretty please?"

Don't be so blunt about it!

Still, I reluctantly (though I tried not to show it) nod. "I—sure. But let me do the dirty work myself. And no drinking directly from me, okay?" I motion for her to give me the knife.

She pouts, clearly not thrilled with the stipulations, but agrees, handing me the blade.

I scream internally, grabbing a cup from a nearby counter and mentally preparing to make a small incision on my hand.

C'mon, Ran. Just get this over with.

Angling the knife, I slice swiftly, drawing blood from the back of my hand over the cup.

Y'ouch.

It hurts, but I'm thankfully able to keep a neutral face. Toga watches with rapt attention, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet.

As the cup fills to about a centimeter, I pull my hand back and press some tissues against the cut.

Toga snatches the cup and downs it all in one go, her face glowing with satisfaction as her eyes fluttered shut in apparent ecstasy.

Shivers. Everywhere.

Yeesh.

"So sweet," she murmurs. "God, you're so sweet, Ran-kun." Toga grins and clings to my arm with a dreamy look.

"I love you sooo, so much!"

Ah, the "L" word. Here we go.

Gotta shut this down, fast.

"I don't like girls," I blurted out. If there's anything that can get her to back off, it's this.

She blinks in surprise before beaming again. "That's okay! I can turn into a boy for you!"

"No," I said instantly, "that wouldn't be true to yourself, now wouldn't it?"

That finally gives her pause, and she sulks. "Oh..."

"But," I continue, searching for the right words, "you have the cutest smile a girl could ever have, y'know? And your love for people is... intense, to say the least. Which I deeply admire."

Her face lights up again. "You really think so?"

"Absolutely," I say, patting her on the shoulder. "But you deserve someone who'll love you the way you love them. And that someone just isn't me."

She looks down, clearly disheartened, but I emphasize, "Don't worry, I'll still be here for you as a friend, okay? We're friends, right?"

Her face brightens once more. "Yeah! Friends!"

I chuckle weakly, inwardly sighing in relief.

It's hard work being in good graces with Toga, but I'll put up with it.

She was one of my favorite characters in MHA, for one.

For another…

Having someone with her quirk—perfect for infiltration and espionage—on my side could be invaluable.

Especially with the goal I have in mind.

Just then, I hear the door creak.

Geh—Sensei's back.

"Boss Stendhal!"

…Now that catches my attention.

I turn around and see Stain approaching us.

"Boss Stendhal!" Toga repeats, waving at Stain excitedly. "Ran-kun and I were just finishing up our cleaning duties!"

Stain nods. "Good. Discipline is important."

He then turns his gaze toward me. "Akako Ran, I'd like to have a word with you."

My eyes widen, and a smile begins to blossom.

"Are we finally gonna talk about it?" I ask, skipping as I walk toward Stain.

He nods again. "Yes."

"Talk? About what?" Toga chimes in, gaze flicking back and forth between Stain and me.

"It's confidential, Toga Himiko," he replies.

This makes her pout. "Fiiine," she drawls, huffing her way away from us.

I watch her leave with a chuckle. It's good that she didn't protest, at least.

"Akako Ran."

I glance at Stain.

"Let's go somewhere private," he states.

My nerves and excitement become almost too much for me to handle.

"So you'll hear me out on my plan?" I whisper, wanting to make sure.

Stain studies my face.

"Since it concerns the Hero Public Safety Commission, after all."

Heh.

My grin broadens.

—

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Chapter 1

#mha au #my hero academia #anime and manga #alternate universe #anime #mha oc #mha #manga #bnha oc #bnha #reincarnation #reading #long reads #original character #my hero academia x reader #mha x reader

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deafsignifcantother · 3 months

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duplicity

♥ summary: you're finally trying to escape the cabins where he holds his followers, but once the rain comes, he approaches you with the umbrella you forgot. there's nsfw sorry guys, but this is the type of fic where the reader changes her mind on consent and then they vibe together instead of having sex bc i ♥ relationships: !human vox x deaf woman reader ♥ word count: 4.6k ♥ notes: okay listen LMFAO I know we don't know if Vox killed people or not but let's pretend he did but scarcely, maybe people that aren't keen / trying to escape his cult + calling him victor because fuck you that's why, I like the name better than vincent. reader is also a little insane and delulu. Also I wrote this when i was high at 1am, also also i have not reread this so if this is ass then lmfaoo

Your backpack hurts your shoulders, but you tread on, cautious at every branch and leaf you might step on. First of all, even though you left around 3 AM, where most people are sleeping, somebody might be following you. Else, a murderous hunter wondering why you're in his parts of the woods. Your worst-case scenario is the sun rising before you can reach the city.

There must be a way from here to the city, a hidden path, perhaps a national park or a forgotten hiking trail. You can't recall. After all, you were part of a secretive 'organization'—the perfect place to be cut off from the outside world. It took you days to painstakingly draw a map that you stumbled upon in a book, hiding it under your bed, a secret treasure. You could barely contain your excitement for your plans to unfold. Still, the fear of being discovered by the 'organization' was always there, lurking in the shadows.

You stop looking back, staring at the distant lights, maybe miles away. Your sneakers hurt your feet, and your hands shake from the cold. A droplight on your head scares the light out of you. You place a hand up, and a small water drip falls—rain. You know you haven't brought an umbrella. It hadn't rained in weeks, even usually starting at night. Maybe it is God sending you a sign. Perhaps the cult is the place you belong.

And luckily, perhaps a symbol of peace, a hand touches your shoulder. The rain stops, your shoulders tense, and you slowly turn around, afraid of what's to come.

Victor has covered your body with the blue and black umbrella he gifted you months ago. With his other hand, he signs, fingers curving as he points.

"You forgot this."

In an instant, you remember your manners. He's the one who brought light into your days.

You give a shaky smile, trying not to convey your fear, the sense of danger growing.

"Thank you."

He smiles with an unmistakable twinkle in his eye. He leans on one foot, tightening his grip on the umbrella. "Of course, sweetheart. Let's head back; you know the rain will only worsen, right? The situation will, too."

Your eyes widen, and so does your strained smile. "I've been such a trouble, I'm sorry about that. When did you notice I was gone?"

He turns his body and starts walking back, knowing you'd follow. It's not as if you can outrun him. He doesn't look at you when he signs. He dodges your question.

"A real beauty like you should always have someone around, you know? Someone to make sure you're safe."

He only looks over to see your response.

"I don't know if that's possible." You shake your head and mimic his behavior, staring into the trees.

His charisma is unending.

"Only an idiot would say that."

You frown, finally managing to look at him. "I'm sure."

The grin he gives you is a masochistic; a million thoughts are rattling in his head. Your breath catches in your throat before you look away. As long as you're under the umbrella, you must accept being so close to him and having your signs constrained. Your eyes fixate on a knife's carving on one of the trees; you should have been able to remember it just by looking at it. That wasn't done by you. Your nerves concentrate on it, hand frozen halfway through the motion of starting another sentence.

His neck bends to look at your entire expression, his smile dropping and a smirk growing. When you turn back, you're almost nose-to-nose with him.

"Are you going to take that role?" If you play along, your punishment won't be as significant as you predict.

"I have been."

Your body warms up, not in excitement but in fear. His past remarks echo through your head. Hold my hand and trust. In this world, dependency is a part of your design. Welcome to my kingdom. Dependence on me will find you appreciating me above all else.

"Thank you, I appreciate your kindness."

He stops walking. You plant your feet before him, and the mud makes you sink into the Earth. "Do you have any clue of how much I cherish your presence?"

His breath is hot on your skin, and his eyes are locked on you.

You look around the forest, trying to look at anything other than him. "Enlight me."

His eyebrows furrow, and the calmness that falls over his face is deadly. He grabs your chin, moving it back before releasing you. "How about we go back home?"

It's a test; he's not even expecting you to fight. You'll inevitably be trapped here forever now. This situation has gotten far beyond any sense of appreciation.

"Is there any other option?"

"Honey, we are way past your chance of freedom."

Your hands become stiff, noticed by him. He knows you're at your most vulnerable right now, and that's how he likes it. His hand glides around your waist, turning you forward with him, continuing home. Home. That's the worst way to think about it.

"Okay," you give in. His hand remains wrapped around your waist.

The city's lights are replaced by the light of his cabin, the only light within the sanctuary. His hand slips away. "Don't worry. You can trust me. I could never hurt you."

Trust is that word he loves to throw around aimlessly. Nobody bats an eye, but he's never done anything to warrant your trust. You did not come here out of your own belief but rather to accompany a friend, ensuring they'd be safe. You didn't realize you'd never be able to leave.

You never respond. There's not an ounce of conversation while he continues to push you forward; the umbrella is the only thing keeping your bodies together.

Once the cabin gets close enough to the smell of wood and water overcomes you, your body starts shaking. He chuckles slightly, and you begin to realize the danger that you're in. The cold haze finally starts to melt your fingers.

"It's warm inside," he hints. "I can start the fire."

"Thank you for the offer-" Before you could even finish, he grabs onto your bicep softly, a threat.

"No, no, I insist. I'm afraid your place might not have the proper care."

"Okay." The cautious fly of the two letters makes him release you. The door is approaching, a sign of doom, a symbol of your defeat. He closes the umbrella.

Before stepping closer to it, his eyes glued to you. He's enjoying every moment of this.

"Relax a bit. I'm only trying to help."

"Of course," another simple sign, "I appreciate everything you've done for the community and for me."

He can't contain the immense excitement growing in his chest. He steps towards it, opening it quickly, gesturing with an open hand. You square your shoulders, attempting a confident look.

You're such an easy girl.

He hands the umbrella by the door, buttoning down his overcoat and peeling it off. You stare at him up and down before mimicking his actions. You glance around while he bends down in front of the fireplace. He has a double bed and bedside tables beside each side, far more decorated than your room. A deer head hangs across from his bed. The eyes of it have been removed.

The feeling of his hard footsteps captures your attention.

"Do you think it was destiny that I happened to find you out there? Fate must of been on our side."

You'd miss the sarcasm and teasing if you didn't know better.

"Destiny. What-What do you think the reason is?"

Like he did outside, he places a hand around your waist and leads you closer to the fireplace, a pillow placed in front of it for you to sit on. He doesn't respond, only helping you sit down while taking a seat on the wooden floor next to you. You tuck your knees into your chest. You've known him long, and he's never done anything predatory. You always had the sense that he had respect for women. But when you look up at him, you witness his sinister gaze.

He finally answers, sitting at an angle so you can see him, the fire lighting up his pointed features. "I've been gifted a beautiful lady, that's how I think of it."

"That sounds about right." Within the possible malice in his thoughts, you smile more casually. "You have a way with words, Victor."

"Oh, I know I do. I have to. I could never be able to lure a beautiful like you into my home without it."

"That's true," your hands develop a slight shake. Victor has been known for his off-putting remarks, especially towards people who gain a little bit of defiance. It's rare, but sometimes he'll kick people out, and they'll never be able to return. He has a dark sense of humor. Are you able to play on that? Would that help your situation? "Any other uncomfortable comments? You're good at keeping them going."

He lets out a laugh. There's nothing funnier to him than the shake of your hands that doesn't match your smile. Your willingness to let him walk all over you draws him closer to his final goal. He loves this little game the two of you are playing, and it shows on his face.

"Do you have a wife?" You ask, honestly trying to remember if you even knew the answer.

"Why? Are you thinking about spending the night?"

"No," you're breathless. "I don't know. Maybe. But you're not going to let me leave, are you?"

He just tilts his head. "I don't have a wife," he finally answers. Is he ignoring your question or responding to it? He doesn't let you get a single word in as he continues. "You trust me, don't you? Trust is the foundation to any companionship."

You sigh, looking away, thinking about a way to respond. Everything you've ever said to him and everything you've done reels through your mind. "It's too good to be true. But I know that your deepest, most constant need is for my trust. I will give you that, you've given me no reason as to not."

His expression turns quickly into a more casual one. "I always think back on that. You promised so much. You might be a bit special. Your energy is the only one the youth can maintain. I think you've noticed that not many people your age around you. Your personality is amusing. Do you think I'd be able to guess your favorite color, too?"

My favorite color? In your peripheral vision, you can see the room for what might seem like his favorite answer. Blue.

"Maybe. It's probably the first color people ever think about." You smile. "But it's a beautiful shade of marker."

"Marker? That's a clue. Let's see if I can figure it out. Is it red? That seems like it could be your favorite color. Or maybe even pink."

"Kinda close," it comes out more like a question. You lock eyes with him, your smile remaining with his smile towards you. He's gorgeous when his smile is genuine. "Think of the ranbow."

You are so willing to go along, which is precisely what he meant when he said youth.

"Oooh, rainbow?" The sign is beautiful when he does it. "If it's not red or pink, that leaves me with so many more options. What if it's yellow or orange? Or maybe even green?"

He must be fucking with you, you just know it. But it doesn't matter anymore. The casualness means the world to you.

"Nooo."

"Okay, alright. Will I know it's not green or yellow, and it's still not red or pink. That still leaves the possibility for white, purple, or blue. Or maybe... gold?"

The weight in your hands softens. "It's blue. My favorite color is blue."

"Blue? That's a common favorite color. You really like the ocean then. I can definitely see that with you. It fights your personality, unable to be contained."

He talks as if he's figured you all out. He's returned to his aggressive signing, reminding you of the figure he is in your life.

You bite the inside of your lip. "What's your favorite color? Is it blue? You're wearing a lot of blue."

"You're right! How kind of you to notice that I'm wearing blue tonight, it matches my eyes, don't you think?"

Giving into the silent command, you lean closer. "I never noticed that you have blue eyes. I wish I did."

His jaw tightens. His breath heavies, and he shifts to face you. "I'm surprised you haven't noticed them before." He pauses for a moment. "Do you like them?"

"I do." You pull away. "Black hair with blue eyes is like, everybody's type. You have the look of an actor, an actor in a romance or something."

The halt in your brain comes from nothing but the realization that you've noticed how attractive he really is, especially up closer.

"You should be writing romance novels. You seem rather imaginative. Or are you just trying to flirt with me?"

The laugh you give is beautiful. "We you ever into writing?"

"Writing stories was always one of my favorite hobbies as a kid. To be fair, they were never creative or exciting. But I always had a fascination with writing."

The way you pulled away early is knocked from your thoughts. You lean back in, making a notice of staring into his eyes. Are you pretending anymore? You smile to yourself. Trust. He's not going to hurt you, that much is (hopefully) evident.

The sense of relief that washes over you is contagious. You're not going to run, that's good. Saves a lot of trouble. And when your hand cups his cheek, his eyes widen, denying reality. This behavior has always been his dream. Of course, he's been flirted with, but all he does is smile and play along.

This isn't playing along.

Every inch of skin you touch gets colder with the temperature of your hands. This is tempting him beyond belief. But he's not the one who gives in to the urge. You press your lips against his. His eyes droop close, and your hands tremble with excitement at the sign of his vulnerability.

Time stops as the two of you linger in the touch. Your lips are warm, shockingly so, and he pulls you closer to savor it. The taste is absolutely thrilling.

The new and more passionate touch runs through his mind. This is such a different side of you, one that he provoked.

As he practically pulls you into his lap, his hand grips the back of your neck. Your knees press into the floor, but the pain isn't important now. Your hands fall to his thighs, propping yourself up. His reactions motivate you more; you want to continue surprising him. At this point, it almost feels like you're in control.

With the movement of his head, your lips go from his lips to his cheek, eventually kissing down his jaw to the start of his neck. For a second, you stop because of the movement of his collarbones when he breathes. It's human and lovable.

Victor can't believe this is happening right now.

By leaning back, you get another look at his flustered face. You stare at him like he's the most beautiful man you've ever seen.

He puts his hands between your bodies. "I think I really like this side of you."

Instead of quickly responding, you just move a hand to his chest and push him down. His hands fall to the side of his head, and his hair lies next to his face.

"I like this side of you, too."

He can't help but smile and caress your waist when your hips relax on top of him. "Is this the kind of side I should be expect from now on?"

You nod, placing a hand on his chest to feel each breath. Your other hand responds. "If you continue being a good boy, then yes."

One of his hands starts to slide up and down your sides, his fingers wrapping around to touch your back. Everything about how your body reacts to his touch is incredible.

"I guess I'll have to continue being a good boy if you give me more of... this."

His breath stops once your hand slides down from his belt; use it to move yourself up and down, causing sweet friction between them. There's a tremble in his hands. He's at a complete loss for words. Your touch is smooth and sensual. Every second of your movements drives him to the edge; he doesn't want this feeling to ever stop.

Your fingers undo his belt before you pull it out in one motion. You give him a small smile, tapping his jeans with your nails. "I'm going to need help pulling your pants down."

His hands grab yours, and he starts to tug his pants down to allow you more room to explore his body. Good boy. Your seating position changes to on top of his thighs, allowing more room to unbutton his pants and pull his zipper down. His heat radiates, decorating the lines of your palms. Once you got what you wanted, you trail your fingers up his bare thighs to his pulsating erection, moving as his muscles clench. It's not hard to get him out of his underwear. When you wrap your hand around his dick, you test its length compared to your fingers. You hum in satisfaction, pleasing him by gently stroking it. A man so powerful and filled with greed is gasping and panting at your touch. You can only imagine him still in his suit, covering his mouth with upturn brows as he'd look down at you, his hair would be disheveld and his cheeks would be pink.

Your eyes lock onto his for an incredibly long time, his face is so easily readable while yours is impossibly neutral, a seductive quid pro quo. His jaw clenches and unclenches with each moan like he's trying to swallow down his arousal.

When you put both hands on his stomach and ease off the teasing, all of the excitement and anticipation drives him back to reality. Your playful and innocent riposte throws him off and he can't help but grin, "Victor, what do you want?"

"Well... You're doing a good job with the teasing, which makes me want to..."

For a second, you have no words. You don't know where to put your hands, where to kiss him, or what to say. "You can do whatever you want."

There is a sudden shift in his demeanor, and he is no longer willing to surrender, and gives to his dominating nature. That’s where he prefers to be, in control of the situation. Now that you’ve given him the green light, he isn’t going to back down from the challenge. His eyes are filled with pure desire to provide you with what you need from him.

You move his hands aggressively and suddenly under your shirt to be on your chest; it’s the least you can do to get this on the roll.

“Thank you for all of this, sir." You give him puppy dog eyes. His breath hitches. His hands are almost shaking as he grabs your plumpened skin. Your cute little puppy dog eyes seem to have him completely distracted.

One of his hands removes itself, using it to sign. "Thank you for being so irresponsible."

You salute him with a small laugh; the threatening words are now a joke to you. You put both of your thighs to his hips, enjoying the feeling of your clothes crotch pressing against his bare one. His body moves as you grind yourself on him. Your laugh makes you sound as playful as your actions.

The thought of making love to you in front of a fireplace doesn't sound appealing to him. Sweat will literally drip off of his body. He wants to please you in a bed that makes you both comfortable. His smile is slightly strained as if he's battling the urge to rip your clothes off and force you onto his bed. However, the kiss you give him is too tempting to resist, so he kisses you back lovingly. He can stay here for as long as you want. The kiss was meant to be temporary, but now you're drawn in, keeping the kiss sweet. You like how loving he is; it’s fascinating, considering how threatening he was when he grabbed your waist and kept you under the umbrella. Now, he’s kissing you with a gentleness that only a man who supervises can possess. Every moment his tongue enters your mouth, you’re in a different world. The intensity of the kiss and the fact that it feels so genuine builds a certain intimacy. You feel like you’re falling deeper and deeper into his embrace, and all the feelings from before have gone away.

You slowly pull away from the kiss, and they both stare at each other in awe. “The other people will wake up soon,” you laugh and attempt to lift his pants and underwear back up. We should stop, especially since someone might… uhm, knock.”

His hand drops. A blush creeps up on his face when you mention that someone might have seen you. He shakes his head and sighs slightly. He still hasn’t entirely given up on being in control, and the fact that you pulled him from that is a tough pill for him to swallow. He straightens himself out and fixes his pants as best as possible. He then nods and helps you off of his lap.

You sit beside him, returning to the pillow. You glance between him and the fire. It's his job to say something else. His stone face reminds you of why you're in this situation in the first place.

He leans back slightly and speaks without looking your way. You’re only able to see his profile. “You good?”

His side profile is beautiful, as are the sharpness of his jaw and the arch in his nose. His eyebrow bone sits low, the most masculine thing about him. His body language makes him all the more attractive. The aura in the room makes it seem like she was never even on top of him and stroking him. “I’m okay.” You answer plainly. But then you put a thumb to your lip, humming to yourself. It’s hard to believe he’s sitting right next to you, eyes locked on you. You stare into the fire, still thinking about what it would feel like for him to touch your bare body. “When do you want me to leave?” Once again, your knees tuck into your chest, sore from the previous position.

He leans in your direction slightly so you can see his response.

“I haven't thought about that yet. I thought we could go back to your room so I have a look around.”

“I'd be fine with that,” but your blood still runs cold. “I’m still so shocked that you haven't done anything mean yet.” You glance over at him, your expression unreadable. “You were going to kill me, right?”

Your sudden response sends an instant tinge of regret from him. The last thing he wants to do is remind you that he has caught you trying to escape his grasp. In all honesty, Victor was planning on leaving you for dead in the woods, especially with the knife he was hiding in his coat pocket. But now that is clearly not going to happen. This night has been filled with so many twists and turns, and he doesn't know what comes next.

"That was the intention, yes."

You immediately go quiet; your heartbeat is so loud that it feels like he can hear it. You're internally screaming about how he immediately admitted it and also how you tamed the beast. She’s that beautiful to have made him change his mind.

You put your chin in your hand and stare ahead. He can tell that you're starting to get into your own thoughts and you seem to be thinking about things he doesn't want you thinking about right now.

"Hey?" He glances over at you and can sense the anxiety that flickers in your brows. He can't help but feel a sudden sense of guilt. He should have just kept his mouth shut.

You want to ask for more details. What would he do if you started annoying him? You close your eyes.

He feels slightly defeated as you sit quietly and in your own thoughts. This moment was going so well, and now he had just ruined it by opening his mouth. Now, he might have to kill you. He doesn't want to mess up the body of such a beautiful woman. He just hopes that you can get over your anxious thoughts quickly. He hates seeing you like this, especially when thinking about how he can keep you quiet. The silence between you two feels like it's been going on for ages. Every time he glances at you, he sees your eyes still closed. Part of him wants to ask you what’s wrong (stupid question), and the other part wants to stay silent. A third part of him also wants to keep this silence going and not ruin the moment for his murderous plan to succeed. However, at this moment, you are both so absorbed in your emotions and thoughts that the silence stays between the two of you.

But then you turn and smile. "But you didn't."

"I didn't." And I won't now.

You interlock your fingers with him as he pulls you in. The room lightens; the morning light starts peaking through the curtains. While looking towards the windows, you chuckle to yourself. You cuddle into his arms.

A strange girl you are. When your bodies make contact, a sense of relief comes over him. Your touch sends off a slight adrenaline rush. He pulls you even closer and buries his face into your hair. He lets out a deep breath when you hold him tighter. You notice how shaky his body is when you touch him, how timid he seems. You also feel a subtle increase in his heart rate when he leans in. You close your eyes, basking in the moment before the schedule comes and ruins everything.

Even though your eyes are closed, and you're relaxing in his arms, he can't help but wonder if you genuinely believe all the prayers he's conducted or if you're just trying to be nice to him. He needs you to see eye-to-eye with him; it's the ultimate test.

He can feel your breath flowing across his chest, sending a feeling of warmth through his body. He chuckles at your struggle with the suddenly overbearing heat. He sees how tired you are and gently pushes you away, raising to his feet. You're now in your most vulnerable position, looking at him with blurred eyes. He puts out the fire. Even in the dark, you are entirely safe. He sits down next to you, his arms wrapped tightly around you as if he were afraid of you escaping. He smiles softly as he closes his eyes.

#hazbin hotel #x deaf reader #x reader #vox #vox x reader

19 notes · View notes

dejavante · 1 year

Text

heartworm | myg

synopsis: "Life always presented unexpected twists and turns; that much was always pretty much guaranteed and inevitable. But you never expected to fall in love with the man held captive in the old snow globe you found in your grandmother’s attic following her passing. If only you’d known your time together was limited, you probably would’ve spent less time throwing snarky and sarcastic remarks his way and would’ve instead confessed the feelings of your heart. It’s been weeks since his disappearance now, and you still can’t adjust to the void he’s left in your life. And no amount of wishing and praying over that snow globe will bring him back…"

↳ pairing: yoongi x reader

↳ genre: modern fantasy type AU! | fluff | a dash of angst but nothing that will have you balling your eyes out, lol

↳ word count: 2.1k

author's note: this is just a little drabble that I've been sitting on for a while now. I've been pretty uninspired lately and haven't been able to finish any of my longer pieces, so I thought maybe I should start off small. I say small, but this drabble is 2.1k words long... anyways, enjoy!

masterlist | asks

You'd hated this place from the moment your grandmother had bought it. There was something about the heavy musk of mould, and the nauseating rose air freshener that your nana would use to camouflage the stench that had you wrinkling your nose in distaste. Or perhaps what repelled you the most was the tedious hike up the cliff that left your legs aching for days to come and the old rickety front door that banged against the frame during its battle with the wind.

While it's true that you'd never done much to hide your dislike of your grandmother's home before, you'd found that there was an unusual calmness to the raging sea – something in its temperamental rocking and in its ruthless habit of violently crashing against the ridged boulders of the coast that painted an odd likeness of tranquillity.

You sit back in your seat with an airy sigh, fingers twisting into the worn material of the blue sweater you don as a means to preserve heat – though this wouldn't be much of a problem if only you could find the strength to tear away from the turbulent scenery to grab the comforter off your bed.

But alas, you can't seem to let your focus stray from the smudged window, not for the growing numbness in your fingers and certainly not for the fatigue that weighs down on you.

For every moment over the last few weeks that you couldn't express your agitations, the storm raging outside granted you a moment of much-needed relief. It helped in soothing the burning flame within, taming your sullen mood.

Your eyes flicker over to the crooked shelf above your bed, sifting through the trinkets you didn't have the heart to throw away before finding what you're looking for. The glass dome of the snow globe has long since lost its shine. Now, it no longer glistens under the dim lighting of the room with the thick blanket of dust that clings to its surface.

At some point, looking at it had become too hard. Remembering the gummy smile that would smile at you from over the glass dome or the baritone voice that droned on about the snowy scenery within, stopped giving you solace and became more like a nightmare. As a result, those nostalgic and intimate moments attached to the snow globe became more fragile than the thin sheen of glass that encircled the world within.

Perhaps that's why you chose to place it on that particular shelf. Because during another day of self-prescribed bed rest, you knew that you couldn't catch sight of that empty snow globe – remembering hurt too much. Although you'd wager that forgetting would amount to equal amounts of pain.

It's a loud clap of thunder that draws you from your long reverie, shooing away the clouds of gloomy thoughts and replacing them with a deep-seated feeling of longing. And oddly, it's in that flicker of emotion that you tried so hard to repress that you finally find the motivation to do more than just mope — to finally confront the reality that you'd been running away from for weeks now. So, with a sigh that is sodden with reluctance and dejection, you urge yourself to move, gaze remaining keenly focused on the object of your affections as you swing your legs off of the window seat and push yourself up.

The aged floorboards creak beneath your weight as you pad sluggishly across the room, singing atrociously off-key until you reach the foot of your bed and crawl on top of the unmade mess of sheets.

You barely manage to untangle yourself from the bedding as you tentatively reach out for the snow globe, allowing your fingers a moment to dance over the dome of glass. The signs of neglect disappear under your touch, and you hoped, a foolish tendency you knew, that as the strings of dust melted away to reveal a clearer view of the snowy scenery within, there would be a change of fate.

But your hope for his return had proved to be futile. Because, yet again, that lone piano sits in the snowy square awaiting a master that will never return to it. Likewise, you wait for a love that slipped through your fingers too early.

Yoongi was far from a perfect man — that much he'd expressed and admitted to you himself on multiple occasions. It was hard to get along with him initially, not with how frantic and frustrated he was with finding an escape from his curse now that he was free from his snow globe prison. And somewhere within his state of near insanity, it wasn't difficult to see that he was simply afraid of being forced to endure that solidarity all over again with no second chance at freedom.

"I'm not scared," He'd bite back, his tone bordering that of a petulant child about to have a tantrum. "You try being holed up in there for so long,"

Though oddly enough, Yoongi would wax poetics about the internal structure of the globe despite his hatred for being trapped within it. With high, frosty skies, bright strung lights, and a mellow atmosphere fabricated for the sole purpose of carrying the soft melody of his piano, he'd said that it bordered perfection.

"It's the sort of place that you share with someone," Yoongi had once explained softly. "It's not built for solidarity,"

The day he disappeared still resonates clearly in your mind as if it'd only occurred yesterday. It plagued your sleep and daydreams, relentlessly taunting you for the words you never dared confess out of fear. Not until it was too late, at least.

You weren't sure why you kept doing this to yourself. It was a system of torture to continue clinging to the idea that perhaps if you fed the snow globe enough of your tears, prayers, and affections, some sort of miracle would happen. Because each and every time, you were left disappointed and with another crack that the fragile mess of your heart was forced to bear during its futile battle against hope. Heaven knows you couldn't handle another battle, not with how close you were to shattering.

The sheets rustle underneath your movement as you shift to sit back on your haunches with the globe cupped securely within the warmth of your palms. For a moment, you're unsure of what to do, the unfamiliarity of the situation finally dawning upon you as you stare intently at the object of your affections.

You'd tried everything to avoid this moment, but you were always pulled back towards it by an invisible force that tempted the longing within you that was no longer satisfied by memories of him.

The glass glistens dully in the room's light as you twist the snow globe in your hold, surveying the snowy territory in all its different angles to perhaps find an abnormality that would lighten the bulb of hope. However, all you find in return is a distorted reflection of yourself in the glass that stares back at you, highlighting your swollen eyes and the hollowness of your cheeks.

You can already hear Yoongi's playful remark about your dishevelled appearance, and the thought garners a soft smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

Though it's only a matter of seconds before the moment of bittersweet reminiscing gives away under the pressure of loneliness that quickly settles into your bones. The shift is gradual, languid and done with little effort. You begin to deflate, your shoulders sinking and globing around your frame protectively as you cradle the globe close to your chest.

"I really miss you," You whisper, voice watery and thick with the heaviness of unsorted emotions. "I didn't even get to tell you how much I love you.."

Being hung over someone for such a long time feels almost childish. And though you knew that the complexities of emotions were too far intricate to be dealt with within a matter of weeks, you still felt rather pathetic for torturing yourself this much. Especially with the uncertainty of how Yoongi felt towards you. Though you'd wager that your situation garnered an exception because in no way were your circumstances to be classified as normal.

A dry, humourless laugh bubbles past your lips as you press a palm to your eyes, wiping away the budding tears that blur your vision before the disorienting fog of self-pity can settle any deeper in your mind. You clear your throat and give your head a small shake to refocus yourself as you draw the globe away from your chest, steadying it in one hand as you reach out for the lever in the back with the other.

Under the delicate manoeuvre of your fingers, the cylinder begins to spin, plucking at the teeth of the comb to create a melody that encases each of your senses and casts a wave of nostalgia over you. The music is orchestrated in a subdued register, mellow and silky in its composition as if it were a lullaby. And if there was anything that reminded you of Yoongi the most, it would be this particular song with the way that it flowed effortlessly, engulfing the room in a soft and timid yet harmonious and enigmatic resonance that burst with passion.

You reach for the lever again as soon as the soft, fading echo of the concluding chords finally dies down and allows for a brief moment of comfortable silence. However, before your wrist can complete the first full turn of the mechanical arm again, your ears are flooded with the distant performance of the very same melody that had just faded into the tranquillity of the room.

For a beat, you remain motionless, heart pounding in your chest and mind unable to string together a coherent thought. You were damn near certain that this was nothing but a fabrication of your imagination, taunting you relentlessly for the regret you held and guiding you to the brink of insanity.

As if in a trance, your feet find the floor. Your grip on the snow globe loosens as you stumble towards the door, slipping from your grasp and shattering against the floor. The sound of the breakage bleeds into the background, becoming a second priority to the music you follow out of your room and down the corridor, like a sailor enchanted by a siren's song.

There's a moment as you reach the end of the hall when you flicker back to reality, pausing a mere few centimetres away from the spare room to contemplate the rationality of the situation. It hadn't escaped you that this entire set-up felt almost too good to be true — because in all the weeks of your misery and longing, why now?

But there was no mistaking that melody, not with the level of familiarity that you had with it. Its intricacy, like its composer, was both special and specific. You didn't need to see who the musician at your grandmother's old piano was to know in your heart who it was.

And yet, you find yourself hesitating to step forward and confirm your suspicion. Instead, you stare blankly at the door, heart thundering against your ribcage as you resist the urge to step forward and push the door open. Because even with how much time you'd spent practising and planning the words that you'd say to him if you were ever given a chance to meet again, you were certain that you wouldn't manage to utter a single word.

You don't notice when the music finally fades into the combined quietness of the house, nor do you hear the soft click of the door's mechanism turn as your hearing drowns in the dull and piercing ring that consumes your sense and renders you unbound to your surrounding.

The call of your name seems distant, its hand reaching out into the void of the ocean, where it becomes lost between the flickering of your muted sense as if it were a dream. And you would've gladly accepted it as that if it weren't for the palm that presses to your cheek to coax you back to reality.

You don't expect to be hit at full force by a surge of emotions when you step out of your reverie to meet the eyes of the one calling for you. And while his touch is wholeheartedly welcome, your emotional collapse isn't.

Yoongi offers a gentle smile of reassurance, his hand rising to wipe the trail of tears that slip down your cheeks before your face is cupped within his palms. You make no attempt to stop him as he inclines his forehead against yours, instead welcoming the close proximity he offers by leaning further into the warmth of his touch as he murmurs something indistinguishable to your clouded mind before his lips find yours.

"I love you too,"