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slashhinginghasher · 2 years

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Monster ch. 3 - Confession (John Tyler x OFC)

Shorter chapter this time around in an effort to update before the six month mark.

Chapter summary: Confessions are made (or: traumatized gf vs. bf who gets hard when she cries)

TW for discussion of past violent miscarriage in this chapter

Opening quote taken from The Wolf In Your Darkest Room by Matthew Mayfield (another very John Tylerish song)

Read (and comment) on Ao3 here

I am your future

I am your past

I am the secret out at last

You thought you found my limit

But you don't seem to know

No, you don't seem to know

How far I'd go

The old radiator wheezed unhappily in the corner as John circled Ieva’s meager apartment. It was slightly larger than the sad little hole he’d called home back in Texas, but most of that extra space was taken up by the presence of an actual kitchen instead of a mini-fridge and hotplate.

He started in the bathroom, sponging himself clean by the shower and inhaling the delicate florals of her soaps and shampoo. The bathroom cabinet contained a handful of cosmetics and skincare products, which he recognized as nicer than the drug store brands but still cheap. Conspicuously absent was any type of medication, not even a cough drop or an ibuprofen. A personal choice, or a habit forced on her by unsympathetic rehabilitation programs?

John had been tripped up by the spelling of her name. For nearly an entire frustrating week, he’d thought he would need to wait until the Times article was released to find her (Janine had complained bitterly and at great length about Ieva’s no-show in the days after John was abandoned). Thankfully, inspiration had struck, and he soon found himself five years deep in her old high school’s social media accounts. Eventually, he’d found a complete digital copy of the yearbook from her senior year and had been able to proceed from there.

(It was a wonder the incidence of stalking and assault among young people wasn’t higher than it already was. They didn’t just leave gaps; they left chasms.)

Bolts of fabric in various blues, purples, and teals were tacked to the ceiling in the main room, giving the place a faintly underwater feel. A dizzying array of rugs, worn but clean, were scattered across the concrete floor. The entire apartment, in fact, was well kept, albeit a bit cluttered around the corners. That was a pleasant surprise for John, who preferred an orderly home himself; so few people these days appreciated the beneficial properties of a tidy space.

If he’d thought she’d be easy to find once he had the name pinned down, he was sorely mistaken. Unlike her careless peers, Ieva did not appear to have any social media accounts, at least none connected to her real name. The Murphys, when carefully questioned, didn’t even know what state she lived in. She had driven in, which eliminated Hawai’i and probably Alaska, but the entire contiguous United States was hardly a helpful starting point.

John drifted over to the full-length mirror on the wall, sparing a moment’s admiration for the sight of his toned, naked body before crouching to inspect the table of tattooing equipment next to it. The careful organization of it, the bottles of ink and the needles in their little plastic cases, reminded him of his shrine back home. It was easy to imagine her kneeling in front of the mirror, nude and etching her own form of prayer into her skin under the flickering light of the candles that crowded every flat surface of the room like mushrooms. His cock twitched at the thought.

Growing more desperate by the day, he’d searched for her name with increasingly unlikely combinations of words, drawing on every feature of hers he could think of, going ten, twenty pages deep into the search engine results until… at last. A single photo deep in the archives of the webpage for a tattoo convention in Illinois, featuring Ieva half-smiling in a small group of equally inked and pierced people and captioned with the holy grail - the name of a tattoo shop in another city. She went by her initials on the shop website; that was why she hadn’t shown up in his earlier searches. He contacted the rental office that same day to end his month-by-month lease on the caretaker’s house. He gave the Murphys a half-baked excuse about writing inspiration taking him on the road again, and by the end of the week, he was leaving Virginia for good.

The walls of Ieva’s apartment were plastered with drawings on various types of paper, wild scribblings that were too elaborate or detailed to make good tattoos (or so John thought, though he was no expert on the subject). One in particular, hanging at eye level by the bookshelf, caught his attention: a dark, crowded forest with a four-legged creature pacing just beyond the treeline. The animal’s body was silhouetted by the branches of the trees, the only clear detail the sharp white points of its eyes. John felt a prickle on the back of his neck as he studied it. He felt watched. Seen.

He rented a cheap motel room near the tattoo shop. It only took a couple days of careful observation (not stalking) to find her apartment building. Ieva’s neighborhood was bad, the sort of place with trash on the sidewalks and bars on all the windows that weren’t boarded up. John found himself looking into nearby real estate, already planning to move her to a safer neighborhood if she wouldn’t let him remove her from the city altogether. He had planned to case the inside of the building before finally making contact. But when she returned early from work, trudged right past him on the sidewalk without even noticing (why hadn’t she noticed him?), he couldn’t stay away any longer.

He had to touch her.

John had planned meticulously for every possible reaction. Best case scenario: she leapt straight into his arms, admitting that she’d been muddled by the visit with the Murphys but had left him her name as a calling card and had eagerly awaited his arrival, knowing that he’d be able to find her. (Highly unlikely, but a man could dream.) Worst case scenario: she rejected him outright, fought him like his past conquests, and he had to keep her bound and gagged in her apartment before he could smuggle her back to the motel.

He’d expected her actual response would be somewhere in between, and he was right, but felt somewhat hollow in his victory. While the complete physical surrender was appreciated, John had no idea what to do with the sad, unmoving lump of girl that lay curled in on herself on the bed. Ieva wasn’t crying anymore. He had to watch her closely to make sure she was even still breathing.

John sighed and moved to inspect her nightstand when he noticed a flash of red plaid poking out from under one of the pillows on the bed. He fished it out, jealousy twisting his stomach for a moment before turning to electric excitement. It was a man’s flannel shirt. His flannel shirt - he recognized the cuff he’d mended after snagging it on one of the Murphys’ wooden fences. He had a polaroid in his briefcase of Ieva sound asleep in his bed, wearing that exact shirt and nothing else, and now it was here, tucked under her covers like a child’s favorite blanket. Did she wrap herself in it at night? Did she touch herself while wearing it, pretending it was him? God knew the polaroid had provided ample masturbatory inspiration for him over the past weeks.

Riding that swell of confidence, he stretched out beside her. Their combined spend was still glistening on her thighs. John wanted to lick her clean; his mouth watered at the thought. He rolled her onto her back, and they both jolted in surprise when their eyes met. John hadn’t expected Ieva’s eyes to be open with how still she was, and Ieva–

“You’re still here,” she mumbled, almost to herself. “Why are you still here?”

He kissed her lips, dipping his tongue briefly inside, then her chin, then her throat, following the delicate line of her neck downward. She pulled away, shrinking back into the mattress to escape his questing mouth.

“What do you want, John?”

John furrowed his brow at her. Wasn’t it obvious? Was she playing some sort of game?

“You.”

He sucked her nipple into his mouth, giving a teasing almost-bite before releasing it.

“Here.”

The other one now, rolling the tight bud between his teeth.

“Just. Like. This.”

Each word was punctuated with a hot, open-mouthed kiss down her stomach. Ieva squirmed and made sounds of protest as he circled her navel with his tongue, but John would not be deterred now that he was so close to his goal. He was almost panting as he dipped lower, ghosting over her pubic bone, tongue darting out to–

“Stop!”

Ieva kicked out, catching him in the chest. John rocked back on his heels and she scrambled backwards to press against the wall. Her hair was a tangled wreck, eyes wild with a desperate confusion.

“Why are you here? And don’t don’t don’t say you missed me!”

“I want you.”

It really was that simple. John wanted her, and John would have her. She wanted him too, even if she seemed to have temporarily forgotten that fact. She gave him her name, gave him her trauma when no one else was allowed; that meant something. She just came four times in a row on his cock. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she was trying to anger him on purpose with this ungrateful act. But he did know her better. Didn’t he?

Ieva was shaking her head, frantic.

“Why?!”

“You understand me.”

“No I don’t! I don’t even know you! And if you knew anything about me you would not be here, you–”

Ieva cut off with a yelp as John dragged her off the bed by the arm and threw her bodily into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. He wasn’t quite sure what he intended to accomplish with that, but he needed to think, and he couldn’t do that with those big blue eyes boring into him. He just… he needed a minute, some space to clear his head before he did something he’d regret.

John was excellent at reading people. It was his greatest asset, more so than a handsome face or physical strength. Hell, it was what had drawn Mary Barlow to him in the first place, setting him on the path that led to this apartment and this tragic, perfect girl. Had he really miscalculated so badly? Had he been blinded by a pretty face and a sweet, dripping cunt and started seeing connections where they didn’t exist? Was he wrong?

No. No, what they had was real. He was sure of it. Ieva was just young and scared and didn’t know how to process these feelings. And that was John’s fault, partially: he had taken too much from her without giving in return. Orgasms weren’t a sufficient replacement for honesty. He had withheld information at the start because he was afraid of her rejection, but they had reached a point in their relationship that called for total transparency.

The shower had turned on and then back off while he paced. When he opened the bathroom door with an armful of Ieva’s clothes, she was perched on the edge of the toilet lid, wrapped in a towel and her shivering arms.

“Get dressed,” he ordered, tossing the clothes at her. He pulled on his own clothes without waiting to see if she obeyed. He fetched their shoes from the entryway and rifled through her closet for a coat. Later, he would go through everything again, slowly, taking in every texture and color and pattern, but right now he was single-minded in his mission to move to a more controlled location.

He hoped she wouldn’t take the impending conversation too badly. He hoped she’d understand. But if she tried to run again… well. He could still work with that.

***

“Are you kidnapping me?” she asked in the car.

John smiled faintly and tightened his hands around the steering wheel. He did not answer her.

***

All motel rooms were the same, fundamentally. Sure, the cheap paintings on the walls might be themed to the locale, the linens a different color, the scratchy carpets varying in their shades of brown and grey. But the transience was the same, the sense that you were stepping into a sort of waiting room on the sidelines of your life every time you crossed the threshold. A motel room, for the duration of one’s stay, was a self-contained universe. The events that took place within those walls belonged to the occupants, and them alone.

John slipped the “Do Not Disturb” placard over the doorknob and took his time doing up all the locks. He closed the blinds and turned up the thermostat, holding his hands over the vent until he felt the warm air blowing out. He toed out of his shoes and draped his jacket neatly over the chair next to the little table in the corner.

This was normally the part where the women started to panic, if they weren’t already when he dragged them through the door. Their eyes would dart wildly over the locks on the door and gauge the distance to the window. He let them make a run for it occasionally, catching them with an arm around the waist just before their fingers touched the doorknob or the latch, but not often; it wasn’t worth the risk of a passerby catching a glimpse of the struggle. Sometimes they barricaded themselves in the bathroom, as though the flimsy wooden barrier would prove to be any more than a momentary deterrent. They babbled and swore and pleaded and tried to fight him off with the cheap furniture.

Ieva was doing none of those things. She simply stood in the middle of the room and watched him trepidatiously. There was tension in every line of her posture, the hunched shoulders and folded arms, the nervous fingers and unblinking eyes.

She didn’t look for weapons or exits. She only looked at him.

John found himself uncharacteristically tongue-tied. He knew full well that he was stalling; he wouldn’t have to say the words he was dreading if he never broke the silence in the first place. So instead he did what he had been dreaming of for months, what he wanted to do every day for the rest of his life: he cupped Ieva’s face in both hands and kissed her.

Someone had once told John he was incapable of love. That was patently untrue. He loved that Ieva had to stand on the very tips of her toes to reach him. He loved how the curve of her skull fit in his palms, and how small her hands felt when she grasped at his arms for balance. He loved the softness of her lips, chapped though they were. He loved the taste of her as he massaged her tongue with his. He loved the warmth that suffused every inch of his body in a way that went far beyond arousal whenever she was near. He loved the high color in her cheeks and the tears in her eyes and the fine tremble in her limbs as he reached for the buttons on her coat.

He took his time undressing her, unveiling her so slowly it was like he was seeing her body for the first time. He trailed the pads of his fingers along every bared expanse of skin, desire written in the goosebumps that followed like braille. When she stood before him in nothing but her panties, he stepped away. He pulled his belt free of the loops with a decisive snap that made Ieva jump, then sat against the headboard with his legs stretched out straight before him.

He set the belt on the nightstand in case he needed it, but he didn’t think he would.

“Come here,” he said, patting the bed next to his thigh. His voice was soft, but carried an unmistakable undercurrent of command. As soon as Ieva was within reach, he grabbed her by the hips and lifted her to straddle his lap. The little gasp she let out went straight to his cock, and he had to undo his button and zipper to relieve some of the painful constriction against his erection. Maybe he could fuck her before… No. It had to be done and it had to be done now.

“You never asked me why I was in prison,” John murmured, brushing his thumbs over her nipples. “Not once.”

“You didn’t want me to.” How perfect they were together, that they could read each other so well without words! There was a catch in Ieva’s voice that sounded like she was about to moan or cry. Maybe both.

John caught the sweet scent of jasmine as he trailed his nose along her jaw, nudging aside her still-damp hair.

“I raped fourteen women,” he whispered, letting his mouth brush the shell of her ear, “and I only got caught for two.”

Ieva went statue-still in his arms. John kept his face buried in the crook of her neck, arms around her waist like bands of iron in case she tried to bolt. But she didn’t. She just sat there, rigid and unmoving, and it was killing John to be patient. When she finally spoke, her voice was hoarse.

“If I had fought back,” she said slowly, and she didn’t have to specify when, “would you have hurt me?”

John’s fingers spasmed reflexively against her back.

“Yes.”

Another excruciating beat before she inhaled shakily.

“Do you still want to hurt me?”

“No,” he said immediately. Then, in the spirit of honesty: “Not like that.”

Another woman might have asked what he meant by that. Another woman might have begged him to clarify the ways in which he did want to hurt her, so she could assign motivations, however incorrect, to match the picture of him she held in her head. But Ieva didn’t, because she understood him and she trusted him and she knew that his motivation was - and would only ever be - love.

John felt the muscles of her throat flexing under his mouth, filling him with the need to suck and lick and bite. He was starving for her. He arched his hips up to grind his bulge against her.

And she recoiled.

John snarled, an animalistic sound from deep in his chest. He tried to pull her back in, but Ieva had braced her forearms against his chest and was holding herself apart with a surprising amount of strength. She was no longer looking him in the eye.

He was reaching for the belt when she opened her mouth again, and the expression on her face was so terrible that he immediately stopped.

“There was a girl, back near the end of things. I don’t remember her name. Ruthie. Ruth Anne. I don’t know. I always thought she was so much older than me but now I don’t know if she was even eighteen.” She shook her head. “Anyway. She was fucking Randall, so I saw her a lot. She got pregnant. Was so excited to tell him when it started showing.”

Ieva swallowed hard.

“She was stupid. She was so, so stupid.”

Anger laced through her words, the type of directionless hurt that you never knew whether to aim it at yourself or someone else.

“He was pissed, obviously. He beat the shit out of her. I didn’t see ‘cause I was in my– the other room,” (John did not miss that stutter) “because I was smart enough to stay away from him, but I could hear it. Didn’t think much of it at first because people were always getting knocked around at the Tower. ‘S what happens when you put a bunch of junkies in one place. But she crawled into the room when he was done with her. Had her shirt pulled up and you could see it all red and black and purple where he’d kicked her. And she just kept screaming ‘my baby, my baby, my baby’.”

John could feel Ieva’s nails digging into him through his shirt.

“That’s the only thing she’d say, ‘my baby, my baby’. And she was starting to bleed already between the legs. Off her fucking head, grabbing at her stomach like she could keep the thing in even though we both knew it was too late.”

The tears rolling down her face were mechanical. She didn’t seem to notice them.

“She must’ve been in so much pain. I was coming off a high, twitchy and the whole world hurt and there was this bitch screeching like nails in my fucking head and bleeding all over my mattress. And I hated her. I hated her for making my ears hurt and for ruining my bed because I’d have to start sleeping in the bathtub again after that. I just wanted her to shut up. So I stabbed her in the throat.”

Her voice was strained, starting to break.

“Randall had all the knives and the only thing I could find was this broken old pen. And I had to do it a whole bunch of times, over and over, because I didn’t get it deep enough or I missed the vein. Over and over and over. Whole time she’s shrieking and sobbing and begging me to help her, and there’s so much blood she looks like she’s already been murdered twice. I was so mad I was almost blind with it and I just kept going until the screaming turned into gurgling. And then I just sat there and I watched.”

Her mouth was trembling.

“I should’ve held her hand or something while she died. She was so scared. I don’t even feel bad about killing her but I was so cruel about it. I’m a monster. I should have held her hand.”

Ieva looked up at John and it was like a dam breaking.

“How can you even look at me? I’m filth all over.”

With an agonized wail, she collapsed against his chest.

“Oh, baby,” John crooned, bundling her into his arms. “Sweet girl.”

The endless platitudes were there - you were a child, you were sick, there were extenuating circumstances, it wasn’t your fault, she would have died anyway - but John didn’t say any of them. She wouldn’t want to hear them. He just held her instead, pressing kisses to her hair and making soothing noises while sob after gut-wrenching sob wracked her fragile frame.

This was it then: a window into the thing that made Ieva, Ieva. A massive, suffocating pain that had built itself up inside her so tall and so wide that she couldn’t even fathom having room for something else. Such a heavy burden, carried alone for so long. John was no knight, but he knew that his purpose now, his raison d’etre, was to rescue this girl from her Tower. There would be no castles for people like them, but… His fairytale analogies were running out. A snide little voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Mary Barlow was whispering about wolves and little red-cloaked girls, but he pushed it away. Fuck everyone’s golden princes and storybook morals. Sometimes beautiful things came from experiences that hurt, and were all the more beautiful for the blackened soil they grew from.

At some point in the evening, Ieva whispered something against the soaking wet patch she’d made on his chest. John couldn’t quite make it out, but it sounded a lot like “Please don’t leave me.”

#john tyler #tell me your secrets #john tyler x ofc #my writing

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barry-j-blupjeans · 2 years

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Fluff 44 taako and Kravitz?

40. “Take my hand. Just trust me.”

((fluff prompts here - still accepting!!))

Kravitz had been sorely mistaken to think that a wine and pottery place was the wildest place you could have a date. Actually, all things considered, wine and pottery had been tame. Looking back, he was grateful that Taako hadn't gone completely full force, but dear Raven Queen, he had been ignorant as fuck. Kravitz hadn't been in the dating game for centuries. Before Taako, his last date had involved getting pushed into an open grave and then-

Y'know, maybe that hadn't actually been a date. Huh.

The point being: Kravitz would give just about anything to go back to the Chug and Squeeze and make more crappy vases. Instead, they were standing in the Elemental Plane of Fire, seven courses into a game of Mini-Golf Or Firey Death. It was one of this plane's primary attractions, with the main goal being "survive this horrible, awful, law-defying, nightmare of the gods game of mini-golf." They had paid seventeen gold to get in. Seventeen gold. Each.

Ring, ring, ring! The bell over the hole sounded as Taako got yet another par. Kravitz was convinced he was cheating somehow, but maybe Taako was just that good at mini-golf. He honestly couldn't tell. Kravitz, who most definitely wasn't going to get par, had started sweating. The river of lava next to their course, while certainly setting the mood, wasn't helping him stay cool. Kravitz hadn't felt hot in years, but it was getting there.

"I think Merle is better than you at this," Taako said, with the confidence of someone who had gotten a hole in one three times in a row before.

"Well," Kravitz said. He had no excuse. Fuck. "Merle's... closer to the ground than I am."

"I'm taller than you," Taako said. "That has nothing to do with it."

"Well," Kravitz said again. He hit the golf ball a little too hard and it plinked off the side of the Bridge of Doom and fell into the lava river. "Shit."

"Babe," Taako said.

"I'm trying!"

"Babe," Taako laughed. "You fuckin'- the name of the game is Mini-Golf or Firey Death and, uh, I'm pretty sure you can't die, so they're probably just gonna stick you in the lava for an uncomfortable amount of time."

"It's hot," Kravitz complained, turning to Taako, who didn't look sympathetic at all. He put his head against Kravitz's shoulder. "I don't want to be dipped in lava."

"Well, then you better start gettin' good, bones," Taako said, patting his back. "D'you want me to show you how?"

"...yeah," Kravitz said. He pulled back from Taako with a pout on his face. Taako patted his cheek and pulled another golf ball from his pocket. He set it down where Kravitz's had been. Then, he brought Kravitz over and helped him position the club in the right place. He stood behind Kravitz, helping him get his grip in the right place, and Kravitz wistfully wished, for the third time today, they were at the Chug and Squeeze instead of the Devil's golf course.

"You've been putting way too much strength behind each swing," Taako said into his ear. If Kravitz wasn't already so warm, he would have flushed. "Gotta go a little more gentle, yeah?"

"Yeah," Kravitz said. Taako lead the club back and helped him very gently swing it down. It clicked against the ball and then rolled towards the hole. For a second, it teetered on the edge, and then fell in. Kravitz felt a little bit of tension drain from his body. Taako stepped back.

Kravtiz suddenly decided that despite the literal river of lava and the flames that surrounded them, he was not warm enough to exist outside of Taako's arms.

"That was okay," Taako said and Kravitz rolled his eyes, smiling nonetheless. "We gotta go over the Bridge of Doom for the next hole."

Right. The sappy, and frankly, incredibly gay feelings that had arisen in his chest were crushed under a giant boot labeled "Firey Death".

"We could portal over," Kravitz said. He held out his hand to summon his scythe. "There's no need to-"

"Nope!" Taako said, batting away the beginnings of his scythe like chasing a housefly away. "None of that! We are normal people on a normal date-"

"This is a normal date for you??"

"Take my hand," Taako interrupted, all but forcing his hand into Kravitz's. Kravitz sighed. "Just trust me. It's just-" Taako very poorly cut off a snerk of laughter. "It's just a Bridge of Doom, what could go wrong?"

"Just a Bridge of Doom," Kravitz repeated incredulously.

"A normal, safe Bridge of Doom," Taako said. He gestured to the bridge, where another couple was now crossing, hand in hand. "Look, they're doing just fi-"

The floor of the bridge collapsed, sending the couple falling into the lava lake below. The two of them laughed, as if that was fun, and not horrifying at all.

"...Let's- yeah, let's use the scythe," Taako said, turning away from the bridge. "That seems good. I'm good with the scythe plan."

#taakitz #taako #kravitz #taz #taz balance #mine #ise cube writing #asks #anon #:D #i love them ur honor #tw wine mention #tw alcohol mention #just in case!

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harryscherrypie · 3 years

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Camping trips and fear of bugs don't go together very well

Harry Styles x gn!reader

Summary: You go on a camping trip, but you have to share a tent with Harry due to some 'unfortunate' circumstances. Sleeping in a tent when you have a fear of bugs wasn't your brightest idea.

Warnings: bugs, bad writing

Word count: 2k

Sorry for any grammar mistakes, English is not my first language. If you find any mistakes please let me know and I will fix it.

---

“Look, I know you don’t like camping that much, but it will be fun.”

“I don’t know Charlie, you know it’s not my cup of tea.” You mumbled and could hear your friend sigh on the other side of the phone.

“But it’s been 6 years since we last slept under the tent,” She complained.

It was true. You haven’t slept in a tent in such a long time. But you had a good reason. When you were 17, you and Charlie decided to camp out in a tent in her garden. It was all fine until the moment you woke up to a feeling of tiny legs crawling on your neck.

You woke up gasping when you saw a huge praying mantis on your lap. You screamed out and scrambled out of the tent, promising to yourself that you would never step foot in a tent ever again.

Chills went up your spine as you remembered the feeling of the small prickly legs on your neck.

“Just..” Charlie sighed.

“Just think about it okay? Plus Harry will be there,” she teased and your cheeks heated up.

“Really?” you asked quietly.

“Yeah, and if I’m not mistaken, he asked if you were going to be there.” She continued as your heart skipped a few beats.

“He asked about me?” you asked and she hummed.

“Yes, what a shame you won’t come. He will be pretty disappointed.” She faked sadness and you sighed, defeated.

“Fine, I’ll come. But if I see just one bug in my tent, I am never going on a camping trip ever again.” You pointed out and Charlie squealed.

“I am so so excited, it’s gonna be so much fun.” She gushed and you sighed, already regretting that you agreed to this.

---

“What do you mean you aren’t coming, I’m already here, you were supposed to bring the tent for both of us,” You shouted into the phone and Charlie sighed.

“I’m sorry but I woke up feeling like shit, my throat is sore and my whole body hurts.” She explained and you sighed.

“Okay, I’ll think of something, maybe Imani will share her tent with me,” you said, ideas running around your brain.

“Again, I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice hoarse.

“Don’t worry about it, just get better soon,” you mumbled and hang up after you said your goodbyes.

You shook your head angrily as you turned around and walked back to the camping ground, where all of your friends already built their tents.

The camp was in the middle of a forest, an hour away from a parking lot where you left your car. The sun was already setting and you knew you wouldn’t be quick enough to get to your car before the night fell.

“Hey Imani,” you called out to the girl and she turned to face you.

“Yes hun?” she asked and your insides melted at the cute nickname.

Imani was the nicest person you have ever met. She was like the ‘mom’ of the group. She always carried a big bag in which she had anything you could ever think of.

Your feet are hurting? Just say a word and Imani already has plasters in her hand. Forgot an umbrella? Imani has at least 2 spare ones. She is just an incredible person. Not to mention how beautiful she is. It would be a lie if you said you didn’t have just the slightest crush on her.

“Charlie bailed on me, she is sick. Do you think I could share a tent with you?” you asked softly and she pouted her lips.

“I’m sorry (Y/N), but I’m sharing my tent with Adam,” she apologized. And you opened your mouth in realization.

“I totally forgot, I still can’t believe you two got together, sorry,” you smiled sheepishly and she waved her hand.

“It’s okay, maybe ask Harry, he doesn’t share his tent with anyone,” she suggested and your eyes widened. Before you could say anything, a voice called out from behind.

“Did I hear my name? Are you shit-talking me?” Harry joked and you quickly shook your head.

“No, of course not,” You reassured him and he put his hand on your shoulder, cutting off your rambling.

“Relax love, I’m just joking,” he laughed and your insides melted at the nickname, again.

“But I did hear my name so tell me, what did you need from me.” He asked and you looked to the ground, trying to calm your beating heart.

“Well, Charlie bailed on me and I don’t have a tent because we were supposed to share one. So I was wondering if I could share with you.” You explained and he stayed quiet for a bit.

“I have a sleeping bag and everything, I won't take up much space either,” you quickly rambled and he chuckled, which made you stop talking.

“Of course you can share a tent with me, I wouldn’t let you sleep outside,” he agreed and you let out a breath of relief.

“Thank you so much Haz, I don’t know what I would do if you said no,” you chuckled and he put his arm over your shoulder as you walked towards his tent.

“Just put your stuff in, choose where you want to sleep,” he said and you did as he asked.

“You okay with sleeping on the right side?”

“Of course, I don’t really care,” he answered lightly and you smiled at him brightly.

“Okay, let’s go the others probably started with the dinner.” He ushered you and you walked to the campfire side by side.

The campfire wasn’t far, only about 100 meters. You walked closer and the silhouettes of your friends came into view.

You weren’t a big group, only a few close friends. Imani, who you knew from college, her boyfriend Adam, Sarah and Mitch, Harry’s bandmates, Jules, who introduced you to Harry and you.

Everyone was at the campfire when the two of you arrived. You sat down on one of the logs and put your palms towards the fire, warming them up just a little bit. The temperature fell very quickly and you regretted not bringing another hoodie from the tent. But you weren’t the biggest fan of the dark, so you decided to get warm by the fire.

“You okay?” Harry asked as he sat beside you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. You smiled at him and nodded, your teeth chattering just a little.

“Hey, you are cold,” he moved away and from you and you shrugged.

“Yeah a bit, but I don’t really want to go back to the tent. I’m kinda scared of the dark,” you admitted sheepishly and Harry cooed quietly.

“Oh love, you could’ve just told me, I can give you my hoodie,” he smiled as he moved to take off his hoodie. You quickly moved to stop him, but you weren’t fast enough. He already shrugged off his hoodie and moved behind you, to put it on you.

“No, Haz. You’ll get cold now,” you tried but he shushed you and put both of your arms into the sleeves, and put the hood on your head.

“There, now you won’t get cold,” he smiled brightly and for a small moment, you forgot how to breathe. How can someone be so perfect? You asked yourself as you sat back down.

“Do you want to share a blanket with me?” You heard Harry ask from your right side.

“You have a blanket as well?” You asked and Harry nodded as he put it over his shoulders.

“If you don’t mind, I would love to share,” you mumbled quietly. He slowly wrapped the blanket around your shoulders and shuffled closer to you. Just so the both of you can have the same amount of blanket you know?

“Thanks Harry,” you whispered to him. He only smiled and kissed your cheek gently.

“My pleasure love,”

---

You came back to the tent at around 12 am. Feeling tired from the whole day, you quickly changed into your sleeping clothes and got cuddled up in your sleeping bags. You both said goodnight and in a few minutes, Harry’s soft snores could be heard. But you couldn’t sleep. Every single time you closed your eyes, you could feel small tiny legs walking all over your body.

When you finally slipped into unconsciousness, you quickly woke up again, when another set of legs walked on your neck. You woke up gasping and quickly tried to locate your phone, to get some source of light. As you flayed your hands around the floor of the tent, you grabbed Harry by hand. You were too scared to actually be embarrassed by it.

“Love are you okay?” Harry asked groggily and you shook your head as you sniffled.

“No,” you mumbled as tears welled up in your eyes. Then, light flooded the tent as Harry turned on his phone. He unzipped his sleeping bag and sat in front of you.

“What’s wrong love,” he whispered tiredly as he held your face in his hands.

“Every time I close my eyes, I just feel their disgusting legs walking all over me,” you stuttered out and he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Who walked all over you?” He asked carefully and a tear rolled down your cheek.

“The bugs, the praying mantises,” you whispered out and he pouted a bit.

“Do you want to sleep in the sleeping bag with me?” He asked, a light pink color dusting his cheeks.

“Would that be okay? Maybe it will help me fall asleep,” you asked meekly and he nodded.

“Of course love, come here,” He moved back into his sleeping bag and opened his arms, inviting you to cuddle with him.

You moved to lay on his chest, as he zipped up the sleeping bag.

“You comfortable now?” He asked sweetly and you nodded against his neck.

“Yeah, thank you Harry, you are the best,” you mumbled into his neck and he shook his head.

“That’s all you love, That’s all you,” he mumbled as the both of you fell asleep.

---

You woke up in the same position as you fell asleep in. Wrapped up in Harry’s arms, with your face tucked into the crook of his neck.

You cracked one eye open as a feeling of dread filled you up, what if a bug found a way in? But that didn’t happen. You scanned the whole tent and it was bugless.

“G’morning,” Harry rasped out and you raised your head to look at him.

“Hey, how’d you sleep?” you asked and he smiled blissfully.

“Best sleep I had in a long time,” he admitted and you rolled your eyes.

“At least tell me the truth. We were sleeping in the same sleeping bag nearly the whole night, with me on top of you,” you poked to get the answer but he looked at you, serious as ever.

“I am serious love, I loved having you in my arms while I slept.” He confessed, his cheeks red in embarrassment. You just hid your face in his neck.

“Well, if it makes you feel better, I also loved sleeping like this,” You admitted and he looked at your face, looking hopeful as ever.

“Yeah?” He asked softly and you nodded.

“Mhm, made me feel safe from all of the bugs,” you rubbed your nose against his jawline and he leaned into your touch.

“(Y/N), I have to tell you something,” He said breathlessly and you were sure you knew what was coming.

“You don’t have to say anything, I know,” you whispered as you connected your lips with his. He gasped into the kiss, but he quickly returned it. After a few minutes, you separated and breathed in deeply.

“God, I wanted to do that for such a long time,” he admitted and you smiled sweetly.

“Me too,” you buried your face in his neck again, as you breathed in his scent.

“So, you are scared of bugs?” he teased and you smacked his shoulder lightly.

“Don’t laugh at me,” He laughed at the offended tone of your voice, and apologized.

“I’m sorry, please forgive me my bug.” You raised your head to look at him.

“Really, that is your nickname for me? Bug?” you laughed and he nodded as he gently flipped you over, so he laid on top of you.

“Don’t like it?” he asked and you shook your head. He captured your lips with his in another sweet kiss as he mumbled against you.

“I’m glad you like it bug,”

----

I'm sorry I have been inactive but I was sick, still am, but I wanted to write something for you, so sorry if it isn't that good.

If you find any mistakes please let me know. Also if you think I could make my writing more inclusive somehow, please let me know.

If you liked this little piece, please let me know.

thank you so much <3

#my writing #writing #fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #x reader

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doctorwhoandfairytaillover · 3 years

Text

Amor Apache

Summary: Ivar and his girlfriend don’t necessarily enjoy the biting cold of winter, but sometimes bundling up properly is enough

Pairing: Ivar x Plus Size Latina Reader

A/N: I hope you have an absolutely happy birthday @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie and that you enjoyed this little fluff piece.

Amor apache: A Mexican phrase that is used to refer a tough love or people that love and care for each other but tend to argue.

Winter was the absolute worst time of the year for both Ivar and his girlfriend.

Ivar hated the season with a passion because the aches and pains in his legs only seemed to worsen as the temperature dropped. While his girlfriend had grown up in a warm Latin country with winters that were rarely as intense as she claimed they felt in their current Nordic residence.

Despite being quite used to bundling up on his own as they got ready to leave the warmth of their apartment for the store, it seemed that (Y/N) tended to fuss a little more about ensuring that both of them were absolutely bundled to face the elements.

“You know that I can put my hat and scarf on without any help, right?” he chuckled.

She hummed but said nothing, as she tucked his hair under the hat and pulled it over his ears snugly. To then similarly wrap his scarf and tuck it into the jacket, while pulling it up to cover the lower half of his face.

“Mi vida, as much I might love you, you’re pretty fucking stupid when it comes to keeping yourself warm” she sighed.

“Hold on a second - “

“You make fun of me por vistiéndome como bon bon, but at least I manage to stay warm. So if you think I’m going to let you complain for hours afterwards that you were cold, you are sorely mistaken.”

“I do not complain! I just air out my annoyances like any other person” he mumbled behind the scarf. “But moving away from the babying, why is there so much chocolate, cookies, popcorn, and snacks on our grocery list?”

“Boy, do you not see this lovely and curvaceous figure of mine?” she asked in mock exasperation. “I like being plump, thank you very much.”

He looked at her in disbelief.

“Oh fine, it’s just so cold!” she complained. “I don’t want to have to go back to the grocery store in this fucking freezing whether because I ran out of something that I was craving.”

“You and your cravings, didn’t you once walk around for an hour in the cold going from store to store because you wanted a specific brand of chips?”

“Yes and your point is?” she asked. “I found that store and now I just stock up to avoid dealing with the walk again. I will deal with the cold if I have to but I will not if it isn’t necessary.”

He looked at her with narrowed eyes and then grabbed her jacket from the coat rack.

“You’re going with me to the store then, because I am not getting them otherwise.”

“What?! How can you be so cruel, you know I hate the cold!”

“You’ll learn to adapt to the cold, you have to when we get married and move to Kattegat where it’s even colder!”

“You’re funny, mi cielo but you haven’t proposed and we’re definitely moving back to my country as soon as we finish school!”

“Just go get your puffy pants and bundle up, cause we’re going!”

The plump Latina whined in annoyance but ultimately went to put on her warmer garments, while Ivar double checked that the small box was safely tucked into the pocket of his jacket.

Tag List:

@pinkrockstar19 @thenightperson @xbellaxcarolinax

@youbloodymadgenius @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @mrsalwayswrite

@pomegranates-and-blood @quantumlocked310 @ietss @fxirybubble

@anonymooseforever007 @seraphqueen123 @moonrifles

#vikings au #vikings imagine #vikings fanfic #vikings x reader #ivar x reader #ivar imagine #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar x latina reader #x latina reader #x reader #x reader insert #fluff

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tinachristeen · 3 years

Text

The Girl Next Door

part 2

It was a busy day to say the least.

After Matt and Foggy's rather early meeting with their client, both of the very tired, very frustrated lawyers had mountains of paperwork to file. "Where did these mountains of paperwork come from?" you may ask. well, they came from none other than Josie's bar. Over the weekend, Josie had a group of rather rowdy customers come in for some late night, (or early morning, depending how you look at it) drinks. Now, this was a very common occurrence at Josie's, considering the fact that it was a dingy old bar. However, these customers just so happened to also be very big, very energetic men with enough testosterone coursing through their veins to kill a large bear. Or at least, that's what Matt had gathered from Foggy's rather colorful description of the now destroyed pool table and busted bar stools shown in the Case photos they studied earlier that morning. According to josie, they became rather violent after she refused to, "help them out," and, "just give them some free drinks." They then went on what she described as a, "tantrum rampage," and trashed the place. being the ultimate badass she was, she eventually managed to restrain one of them and tie him up in the corner, but not before his buddies demolished the pool table, a few stools, stole a couple bottles of alcohol, and an entire jar of her least moldy olives. After the police arrived, they took the man in to the station for questioning, where he sang like a songbird and told the cops his friend's names and current addresses. naturally, after hearing this news, Josie called up Foggy and told him that she wanted to press charges for theft and destruction of property. Foggy agreed to meet with her and then called Matt to let him know, which is what brought them to this morning's rendezvous with their client, Josie herself.

If you thought the day ended there, you were sorely mistaken. After staggering his way through copious amounts of paperwork, Matt was becoming more and more aware of exactly how much the fresh fracture on his rib hurt. Foggy, being the amazing best friend he was, had noticed that Matt was in some kind of abdominal pain all day and attempted to help his best buddy in any way he could. These acts of service included making matt a rather decent cup of coffee during all of the filing, Insisting on grabbing something for Matt that was on a rather high shelf, and now holding a karaoke concert in the middle of the office at the top of his lungs. While matt did enjoy Dancing queen by ABBA and the several Britney spears songs that foggy knew, he couldn't help but cringe when Foggy's voiced cracked at the crescendo of every song. Matt knew that his fellow avocado at law was only trying to lift his spirits, so he congratulated foggy on his Carnegie Hall worthy performance, to which Foggy gave a rather graceful curtsey and returned to his desk to continue working on his ever growing rubber band ball. Suddenly, Karen burst through the door with a rather exasperated look on her face. To which, Foggy and Matt exchanged knowing glances.

"Mitch again?" foggy asked with a knowing smile.

"I swear that guy bangs on his drums all hours of the night just to piss me off!"

Matt let a small chuckle escape his lips, "Neighbors, am I right?"

"Oh yeah, that's right. you have a Mitch of your own," Karen stated.

Matt laughed at that. she did cook fish that smelled horrible, and she did hit that punching bag of hers at all hours, but he wouldn't consider her Quite as bad as Mitch. For weeks on end, Karen would come in to work and complain about her new neighbor that just moved in across the hall. Karen described him as the noisiest neighbor ever. Matt thought that was a bit of an over exaggeration, until she invited both him and Foggy over for a movie night at her place.

The first half of the night was amazing, they sipped some shitty wine and watched The Lord of The Rings after Matt had mentioned he'd never seen (or rather heard) it before. Halfway through the movie, the group heard stomping down the hallway outside of Karen's front door that sounded angry and determined.

"Oh boy, here he goes," Karen said with a worn out tone.

The group paused the movie and listened intently. They heard the sound of Mitch's front door close and More stomping towards what Matt presumed was the middle of his living room. Suddenly, loud bangs began to echo through the walls and cause the floors to vibrate a bit. Matt could tell almost immediately that he was banging on what appeared to be a very shitty set of drums. The guy was a terrible drummer to say the least. Due to Matt's super senses, he had become acutely tuned to metronome beats and when music was off. This guy's drumming made no sense at all, it was erratic and unpleasant. 'not like my neighbors music,' he thought to himself. He often found himself comparing music he heard to hers, but nothing ever quite hit that mark, nothing sounded like her guitar or her comforting voice. It was peaceful. The sound of a Pedal hitting a bass drum pulled Matt from his thoughts.

"Ugh! I can't stand those drums!" Karen said with a rough scowl.

"Why don't you complain to the landlord?"

"It's not that simple Foggy, this guy is the landlord's son. everyone is too afraid to say anything."

The banging continued, slightly louder than before.

The three of them decided they had enough of movie night and Karen's noisy neighbor, and set out for Josie's.

"Earth to Matt, come in matt!"

Foggy's shouting snapped him back to reality. "Hmm, yeah, what?"

"you should introduce yourself to her, " Karen proposed.

"My neighbor?"

"Yes! you should know the person that lives below you!" foggy chimed in.

Matt thought about it for a second. He did know her. He knew that her favorite seasoning was Rosemary, he knew she was right handed, He knew that she liked to take long showers, and he also knew that when she was tired of everything going on around her, she would sit on her fire escape and strum her guitar until exhaustion took over and she fell asleep.

"Maybe," he replied with a twinge of faint excitement. Admittedly, the idea of meeting her in person intrigued him.

The rest of the day consisted of back to back meetings and, surprise surprise, more paperwork! By the time everyone was done with a hard day's work, it was pretty late at night. considering it was a Friday night, everyone except Matt was eager to get to their weekend activities. well, that was a lie, deep down Matt was excited to get back to kicking the shit out of criminals again. Karen made plans to drive upstate and spend the day at some beach Matt can't recall the name of, and Foggy planned on spending the whole weekend at a theme park with his family and their little ones. Foggy offered for Matt to come with him, but Matt politely declined. Foggy knew why, but he didn't press the issue. They all said goodbye to each other and went their separate ways.

On the way home, Matt became lost in his own mind. New York was bathed in a musky blue feeling, The air was thick with scents and sounds. so many sounds, and yet he couldn't stop wondering what it would be like to visit a theme park with family. His mood turned melancholic as he ran every possible scenario through his head. In another life, would he have a set of parents that lived to see a ripe old age? Would he have a cool uncle that always told the worst jokes? Would he have cousins to talk to about normal things like politics or weather? Maybe a sibling or two to call when he missed them, or when he needed someone to vent to. 'What is that like,' He thought to himself pensively. Before he knew it, he was standing at the door of his apartment complex. 'Was I really in my head for that long?' He shook the thoughts from his mind and entered the threshold of familiarity. with each echoing step that reverberated off of the walls in the stairwell, he tried more and more to shake his dispirited mood, but it wouldn't budge. He got like this sometimes, Gloomy and dour. He needed to take a shower, maybe get something warm to eat, that would make the feelings less prominent. He entered his apartment and immediately started shedding layers, tossing his tie and button-up on the couch. he would clean it up later, maybe in the morning. right now, the hot water and leftover Thai food in the fridge was calling his name.

As he made his way to the shower, still stripping as he walked, He heard the pitter patter of little rain drops begin to hit the large window in his bedroom. He pulled a fresh pair of clothes from his dresser drawer and laid them out on his bed for later. He turned the handle to his shower and stepped inside, the warm water soothing his bruised body and chilled skin. his senses took in the familiar smell of his complex's water, which in itself, was rather disgusting, but somehow felt like home on matt's skin. He took a few pumps of his all natural shampoo he bought from Chinatown on his last visit and lathered it on to his scalp. After his routine was finished, he sat under the spray of water for a few moments more, taking in everything around him. the sound of the now pouring rain, the scents of his different products wafting through the air of the bathroom, and your heartbeat that he just now realized was present. It was slow and calm, like you were sitting down. he shut off the water to focus better on where you were and what you were doing. As he climbed out of the shower and walked to his bed in a towel to find his clothes, he listened very carefully. you were sitting on your window sill with your knees tucked to your chest, arms wrapped around them, guitar propped against the wall at your side. The chill of his room was starting to hit his skin, causing goosebumps to form on his arms and legs. He could tell what you were wearing, a pair of sweats and that one long sleeve cotton shirt you were so fond of. He pulled on his own sweats and large T-shirt, listening to your breathing the whole time. It was steady but sharp in exhales, which usually meant you were thinking about something. He heard you bring a glass to your lips, whiskey, on the rocks. That was unusual, you only drank whiskey on odd occasions. as he heard you set the glass down on the space next to you, he made a decision. Matt trekked his way across his room to his window that was the mirror image of yours and sat down on his own sill. He was now directly above you, hanging on to your every action. He heard you shift your position, untucking one leg from your hold and letting it dangle off the side of your makeshift seat. Matt heard you sigh and reach for your guitar, putting it in your lap with great care. then the strumming started, and that feeling matt had earlier dissipated with each pull of your fingers on the metal pieces. each vibration that resonated from your guitar found it's way to matt's ears like the sweetest of lullabies. then your singing started, and Matt's limbs became warmer. With every syllable you uttered, Matt felt different kinds of goosebumps spread across his skin. Every time you sang, he found himself wanting to hear it more and more. This song was one he heard you play before, slow and calming, but he would listen to it a thousand times over if you were the one singing it. He heard you turn your head towards the rain once again, your melodic singing never wavering, your fingering of the strings never halting. And even though matt couldn't see, he did the same.

Tomorrow.

Maybe tomorrow.

(part 1)

#matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock #marvel #mcu fanfiction #daredevil #daredevil x reader #karen page #foggy nelson

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myristicisms · 2 years

Text

cont from here with @fallesto

He'd grown tired, yet stronger all the same since the last demon he'd had to kill previously. This one was different by far, something that shocked him and, had it not been for Shinjuro's intensive training in tactical battle alongside his swordsmanship, would have been just as useless as a rock stuck in the dirt.

Had molten metals of gold and steel not caught a glimpse of his pink haired tsuguko in danger, he likely would have taken a bit more time to properly execute his breathing forms, to be more thorough in ensuring that this demon knew of his disappointment even if the two had been strangers to one another; Had was the key word, it happened in mere moments where rage overwhelmed the flamesman's body, forced him into moving as quickly as his lungs would allow before finally beheading that damned demon and ensuring Kanroji was safe once again.

“ Kanroji, are you okay? Do we need to make a visit to the butterfly mansion before returning to the estate for dinner? ” Concern swims in barely relieved eyes, his signature smile being something he couldn't bother to force; Not when he was so terrified of losing yet another family member. His expression quickly changes though, fear eases into something somewhat unreadable to the naked eye.

What easily would have been mistaken as neutrality was something akin to disappointment, sorrow even at the woman's wishful confession. Had he made her feel as though she were inferior? Perhaps she may not be as adept with flame breathing as he is but he was born for the technique, centuries of flame hashiras had passed down their bloodline and he was of the latest of the proud warriors, it was only natural for a man who had spent his entire childhood learning the craft to be as intense as the very flames that engulfed his blade.

He can't help the sigh that breaks past his lips, doesn't hesitate to drop to his knees to be at eye level with his companion before finally opening his mouth. “ You are the first and only student I have had that treats me with complete respect, Kanroji. You complain about the training regime but it is a very intense one! And yet you still manage to amaze me all the same, I've not had another student stay under my training for nearly as long as you have nor show me the same kindness as you; I have been called a monster by some, a man who enjoys torturing those he's attempting to help, and yet you simply see me as a friend. ”

A brief pause, tanned hands reaching for the woman's with a weak smile upon his face. “ You haven't been at this as long as I have, do not hold yourself to the same standards you hold me to because I've fought my entire life, I've generations of Rengokus before me to thank for my experience, you only have myself and perhaps Shinjuro when he's not in one of his moods. You're an excellent student and I'm honored that I am your teacher. ”

To say he was upset was an understatement, not towards Kanroji by any means but towards the demon, the men and her mother who had put it into her head that she wasn't enough, and towards himself for not expressing just how blessed he truly felt to have her as his tsuguko. Even if she wasn't completely meant for flame breathing, he saw a natural talent in combat for her; The woman was quick, sometimes enough so that she left his thighs sore after particularly intense training sessions where even Kyojuro struggled to keep up. Kanroji was truly impressive in combat and he was so very angry at himself that he couldn't properly find a way to express those thoughts.

“ Mitsuri... ” His voice is low, weak and wistful as he pulls his hands away, tufts of crimson covered blondes and oranges shaking alongside his head. “ You're giving up and making a liar of me, Kanroji. I told you-! No, I promised that you would follow in my stead as a hashira and I meant it, however if you are truly giving up then... I cannot force you nor will I try, however do know that it has been a true honor to have you as my tsuguko and I do hope you continue to visit; Senjuro would grow sorrowful to not see you again, you are the sister he- we both have wanted after all; You're just as much family to us as we are to each other, blood related or not. ”

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dreamkidddream · 3 years

Note

Requests are open again hihi as a member of Kunikida and Oda deserve all the love club, I MUST request the scenario 6 with Kunikida, LIKE, LOOKS LIKE SOMETHING HE WOULD DO and never admit it

Thanks for this club haha, love your works and I am so happy we can ask for it again 🥺

The “Kunikida and Oda deserve all the love and affection because they do” club is steady growing and we love to see it 😌🙏🏾 and YES Kunikida will 100% do this no hesitation even if he’s complaining the whole time lol and thanks for reading my works and for all the love 🥺💚💙 reader is gender neutral!

TW: mentions of undressing (Okay it’s not spicy/suggestive, he’s just being a good boyfriend so that you can get in the shower 🥺 no body parts/nothing graphic is mentioned but I still wanted to put a TW!)

Prompt Scenario: “Person A having a broken leg and Person B has to carry them up and down the stairs to their bedroom every night/morning.” with Kunikida!

This sucks.

You didn’t think that your injury would be this bad, but here you are. One that left you completely immobile.

Okay you’re exaggerating, but you could only do so much being stuck in this bed!

The white cast surrounding your broken leg (although filled with doodles by Naomi, Dazai, Ranpo, and the others), baring as a constant reminder of your mistake. It just took one misstep and a nasty fall down the stairs that left your leg bending in an angle that it definitely wasn’t suppose to be. While Yosano happily offered her services to heal, you weren’t necessarily ready to go through with that process yet. Besides, now you can somewhat laze around and not get shot at for once!

That was your first thought initially.

You got bored and lonely fast.

With Kunikida having to go to work, and you still being monitored in the hospital, you could only do so much for your entertainment. The food wasn’t the greatest, you flipped through all the channels at least three times in the last hour, and you missed sharing the bed with your lover.

You really miss him, and you’re starting to take up Yosano’s offer...

But, you couldn’t contain your fidgeting in the bed today after hearing the good news.

You’re finally getting released from this prison today! You can finally get to breathe in some fresh air, and not the stale one that’s been circling in your room for past couple of days. With the addition of seeing your boyfriend, who you know for a fact misses you just as much as you do, (and maybe even more).

—-

So coming home came with some setbacks.

Mainly the stairs that started all of this mess to begin with.

Kunikida was already cooking dinner, which you offered to help, but he just demanded asked that you sit down and let your leg rest. In your absence, he’s written down almost all of the medical advice on broken legs known to man and is determined to be the best caretaker for you. You couldn’t just sit around forever, and you’re ready to be in your pajamas, to get underneath your own covers, and to cuddle with your partner whose warmth you have been missing for the past couple of days.

You got crutches to use, and you’re 100% sure that you can hobble your way up the stairs and make it to the bedroom in one piece this time. You just have to have patience and take your time, just take one step at a time, and you should be okay! If you could just control your shaking grip on your crutches, and get your good leg to become steady enough to stand on the first step, then you can-

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Your foot barely hovered over the step before you felt his presence behind you. You could practically feel the anger radiating off of him, no doubt the look on his face being a mix of anger and disappointment.

When you turned around, you were proven correct. Kunikida’s brows were furrowing deeper and deeper the longer you stayed in this compromising position, and you would have laughed seeing him wearing your shared apron if you didn’t see his hold on the spatula tightening each second. “Um, well, I was going to-”

“Go up the very stairs that left you like this, unsupervised.”

Surprisingly, he’s still intimidating, even in the “This cook accepts cleaned plates AND kisses as payment” apron.

“Well, I’m-I’m being extra careful! I can’t not go into our bedroom. I sleep there too you know.” You laughed, but the situation became even more awkward when he wasn’t laughing with you.

“You just got back home and already about to put yourself in harm’s way again, and we haven’t even ate yet!”

You started to panic more when he untied the apron and took off his glasses.

You just accepted your fate whenever he approached you again, slowly easing yourself down and preparing yourself to be chewed out and in for a lengthy lecture that’ll probably leave you falling asleep on the steps soon enough-

Until he kneeled down in front of you, back turned.

Okay you’re confused.

You’re just staring at his back, wondering what exactly he’s doing. Is this suppose to be symbolic message or something? Is this his way of saying that he’s giving you the silent treatment-

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“The schedule is already off, and since you’re just so ready to jump ahead, we might as well get it over with. If it’ll make you listen and not be so irrational, then fine.”

It still isn’t clicking for you-

“Hurry up and get on already! We don’t have all night!”

Ohhhh, he wants you to get on...his back? However, judging by the red spreading to the tips of his ears, that’s what he wants. You would tease him, but your heart is too busy melting at the fact that he would do this for you. “Doppo, you don’t have to do this-”

“I do. If you think that you’re going near any of these steps without me, then you’re sorely mistaken. Not to mention how hard it will be for you to maneuver around, so I do need to do this. So, go ahead, before we get more behind schedule.”

You’re still on the brink of refusing him, but he does have a point; it’s going to be a little difficult trying to move around with this. You also recognized that this is one of his ways of showing that he cares, and wants to help you through this. Kunikida has always been someone that will truly help when you need it, even if you don’t ask for it. He may complain about it being “extra work”, but you know that he doesn’t mean it, and will do it again in a heartbeat if needed be.

It’s just one of the many reasons why you love him so much.

Plus, this is probably one of the only times you’ll be able to get a piggyback ride without begging, so why not?

It wasn’t difficult to get on his back, especially since he’s handling you like you’re so fragile (which you guess you are right now). It was funny, you both know what you’re capable of but yet he’s always so gentle with you, but it’s never to the point that he’s degrading or belittling.

“(Y/N)?”

“Hm?”

“Do you remember what I told you when we first started dating?”

“Of course, I can never forget it!”

“The day that I confessed to you, I told you that I will always take care of you. That I would do my best to keep you safe, to protect you, and I already failed you.” His tone became somber. You couldn’t imagine what was going through his head the nights you were gone.

Going through his daily routine and sleeping in an empty bed without you filled him with guilt, especially knowing that this happened over something that could have been easily prevented. He blamed himself every day, it didn’t matter that you weren’t gone for long. It was still his fault.

“Doppo, don’t blame yourself-”

“I do. I was already careless enough to let you get hurt, and I can’t let that happen again, I won’t.” You would be more concerned, but his tone shifted. It was no longer full of pity for himself, full of guilt. Instead, it was full of unwavering determination, that this scenario can’t- will never happen again.

You could tell that he was making a promise, to both you and himself. And he is a man of his word, after all.

You already made it to your shared bedroom, Kunikida carrying you to the restroom and sitting you on the edge of the bed. He already began to grab your PJs from the dresser, and made his way back to you. “Is it okay if- if I-”

“Yes, Doppo, I don’t mind you helping me undress.” You laughed. You two live together and he’s seen you hundreds of times, yet he still asks every time if he could come in if you’re changing. Just another reason why you fell for him.

Once you were done, he carried you again to the bathroom, the water already running and him checking to make sure it’s right for you. He already rolled his sleeves up and kneeled down in front of you, and you could hear him mumbling to himself about the different methods he can use to keep your cast dry as he lifted it.

You swear he’s too sweet for his own good, no matter how many times he tries to deny it.

—-

Even after your cast was off and your leg was good as new, Kunikida still caught himself trying to carrying you up the stairs every morning and night. He felt embarrassed every time you laughed and reminded him that he didn’t have to do it anymore. He still stood close by though, with the excuse that you’re still clumsy enough that it’s bound to happen again (which you just rolled your eyes and kissed his cheek). He did get the chance to carry you however whenever you were too tired or fell asleep downstairs, no exceptions.

(You may or may not have fake sleep sometimes so that he can carry you.)

Yes, he may reprimand and complain about how irresponsible and reckless you can be, he may act like the chaos you create throws off his dear schedule so much, and he wonders how you managed to make him fall in love with you so deeply when you don’t even qualify for all of his ideals, but he doesn’t care believe it or not. He wouldn’t give you up for the world.

Besides, anything to have you in his arms is worth the headache.

#bsd #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs reader insert #bsd kunikida x reader #bsd kunikida #doppo kunikida x reader #kunikida x reader #dream’s 100 + 200 followers prompt special 💙

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starsinmylatte · 3 years

Text

NSFW Thrawn Drabble: Ropes

Hi! I know I said that I’d have part 2 of Tease out soon, but my brain won’t leave me alone about it. Please have this in the meantime and Tease will most likely be updated late tonight or in the morning. 💙

Pairing: Thrawn x reader

(18+) Minors DNI

Author’s note: This was entirely steam of consciousness at like 3 am so I don’t even know what happened lmao. No beta or proofreading we die like unnamed stormtroopers.

AO3 link here

You knew your lover was merely humoring you but were you going to complain? The Grand Admiral of the Imperial Navy was currently sitting on the chair in front of you, shirtless and bound. One could easily mistake his hands being tied behind the chair for a sign of submission, but they would be sorely mistaken. Thrawn was humoring your wish, and maybe, just maybe, the silken red ropes would keep him from fucking you thoughtless so soon into the night.

As you sat on the edge of his bed, Thrawn’s burning gaze was fixed directly on you. He would seem aloof, perhaps even disinterested, to others, but you could see he was ever-so-slowly losing control of himself; it sent delicious chills of anticipation down your back. His breathing was coming faster and faster as you spread your legs and presented yourself to him.

Thrawn’s view of you was absolutely perfect. You reclined on his bed like a queen holding court, but you were dressed entirely in sheer lace and ribbons. When you spread your legs, he could see the effect his mere presence was having on you. Seeing the silken material already soaked through drew a low growl from his clenched teeth, but your real mistake was slowly trailing a single finger up your slit.

You raised it to your lips to lick it clean, and Thrawn’s ruby gaze turned absolutely feral. His grin was all teeth as his broad chest and muscular arms strained against the binds. Suddenly, with a muted ripping noise, the ropes fell off, and he stood gracefully from the chair; his grin only widened at the look of surprise on your face.

Thrawn removed his belt with a musical jangle and walked forward with all the dangerous grace of a panther. He positioned himself between your still-spread legs and trailed a finger slowly from the base of your neck to lift your chin up; his other hand trailed the damp fabric in the same path your finger previously took. “Oh, my sweet thing….. You seem to have forgotten where you stand here and just who owns this pretty little cunt of yours. Perhaps tonight will serve as the reminder you so desperately need.”

Tagging some friends: @handbaskethell @pretty-with-andorian-shingles @mittheresabosen @pala-din-djarin @tibbietibbs @rexsjaigeyes

#grand admiral thrawn #thrawn #mitt'raw'nuruodo #thrawn x f!reader #thrawn x reader #star wars smut #star wars rebels fanfiction #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction

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vivisextion · 3 years

Text

I first saw Slipknot at age 14.

No one knows how I managed it. I'm not sure I even remember. These days, you have to be 16 or 18 to get into Standing areas. I do know I had to buy tickets on the phone, back in the old days (2005, that is). A singular ticket, too - none of my friends, not even the classmate who had gone with me to see Linkin Park the year before, was that into Slipknot.

But I HAD to see them. This was the Subliminal Verses tour cycle, and Vol. 3 was my first and favourite Slipknot album, even to this day. It's the reliable old warm blanket for my soul whenever I need it. It's on right now, as I write this.

My memory isn't that good, but luckily I unearthed a livejournal (livejournal!) diary entry about the event I made the next day.

August 16, 2005. I went right after school. I went to a very conservative Anglican secondary school, too. I tried not to get caught in the bathroom, as I coloured my nails black with permanent marker (I know, don't laugh) and changed into my standard metalhead baby outfit - Slipknot band shirt, black cargo shorts, and my pride and joy: steel-toe boots I somehow managed to cajole my parents into letting me own.

I caught the bus to the open-air war memorial park where the gig was going to be. I got there at 4pm, 4 hours early. A couple other maggots were already hanging around. I found myself surrounded by tombstones, and I read them all. It was the middle of the Hungry Ghost Festival, too - a very fitting time for Slipknot to pay a visit to this godforsaken hellhole of a small town I lived in. (Especially given the paranormal circumstances surrounding the making of Vol. 3.)

While I wandered around the venue (no security or sound guys were around at all), I spotted two white vans pull up to the stage, in the middle of a clearing. It was them! I spotted Joey and missed him by a hair's breadth. I was quickly ushered behind the stone archway entrance by security then.

(Funnily enough, while walking around, I got mistaken for Joey more than once. I am the same height as him, had the same long black hair, same pale skin, and was wearing almost exactly what he had been. One person claimed from behind, I was a dead ringer, apart from when I turned around, and they realised I was Chinese.)

It was soundcheck time. A sound guy testing the mics would say random things, like "testing one two three two one.... fudge fudge, I like fudge...." The band even did Purity, so us earlybirds were given a rare treat, and we screamed along from the entrance, and drummed our fists on the sides of nearby porta-potties. I hope no one was in there at the time. Whenever we got a glance of any of them, we'd scream and cheer. Finally they left again, but were soon to return.

This was the first time I'd been a part of the metal community. I was barely allowed internet in those days. But here, random strangers were friendly, striking up conversations like they'd been friends for years. Two big guys, called Trevor and Ted, looked out for me the entire gig after, keeping other big dudes from crushing me too much (I'm 5'3, remember). Other people commented on me being so baby, because I was only 14, and said they would take care of me.

When we were finally let in, right after the usher cut the rope, I ran in, screamed "WOOOHOOO!" along with a few friends I'd made. I only briefly stopped to receive this RoadRunner Records compilation CD from a roadie, then resumed running like a madman screaming and dashing into the VIP cage.

I was right up against the barricade - the first time I would ever be at a gig. People from assorted magazines and press took photos of us, and I think I got my photo taken about 10 times at least.

(This is how I got in trouble with my parents the next day. My photo had ended up in a local paper - you can see examples of that here. They had no idea what I'd been to see the night before, and were horrified when they saw what Slipknot looked like.)

We saw Sid filming us from the stage with a camcorder and screamed at him. We saw Jim and screamed at him too, and he flashed the victory sign back at us. I remember Metallica playing at the time, another one of my favourite bands.

The concert was a brutal religious experience I will never forget. People with their arms outstretched, crying and screaming out loud, moving like the devil possessed them.

The new friends around me made sure I was alright after every song! There were huge guys fainting behind us who had to get carried out, but I endured, a tiny 14 year old child. We got a family speech as per tradition, of course. "Are you guys out there all looking out for each other? We're all one big family, and we gotta look out for each other." What Corey said held true - strangers hugged, shook hands, talked, and made friends. I was heartened by how close-knit the maggot community was. It really did feel like a family, and it's felt like that ever since.

Of course, I did my first Jump The Fuck Up. It is possibly the most euphoria I've ever experienced all at one go. (Later, in 2020, I was extremely disappointed that I didn't get to do it again in London.)

They did the death masks for Vermilion, and I remember Chris helping Sid fix his mask and shirt when they'd changed back. Sid hung out near Clown's drums for most of the time too, and hugged him from behind and just latched on at one point. It was pretty adorable.

Fun fact: The version of Eyeless you hear on the 9.0 Live album is from Singapore, as is Eeyore. There are very few photos and videos from the crowd of this gig, because in 2005, very few people had camera phones. The crowd at the Slipknot gig in 2020 was a sea of arms with phones, filming the gig rather than experiencing it. Yes, I'm going to be that cranky old geezer who complains about the good old days.

Joey as usual, was fucking amazing and never failed. However, due to the fact that I was right up front, only his tiny head was visible behind his vast drum set, I couldn't see him the entire gig.

Amazingly, the government told Slipknot they were not allowed to do obscene gestures, curse, vomit (possibly due to the decomposing crow pre-show ritual), simulate humping on objects, throw faeces, or jump off stage (looking at you, Sid). I don't think our totalitarian government knew who they were dealing with, because watch what happens next.

Near the end of the gig, Corey tells the crowd “your government has given us a laundry list of things we aren’t allowed to do, your government has told us we are not allowed to swear”. Crowd goes “BOOOOOOOOO” and Corey goes “BUT WE DON’T GIVE A FUCK!!” And they launch into Surfacing, the last song. Everyone riots. Best night of my life.

You can find the setlist from that gig here. It had everything I wanted and more.

This story later got immortalised when Kerrang asked maggots for gig stories, for an article which came out in 2020. I had forgotten entirely, until people began messaging me to tell me, and one friend sent me a scan of it!

On the way out, I managed to get a shirt. I remember calling my best friend at the time, and got everyone at the merch booth to go "IF YOU'RE 555 THEN I'M 666" for her. This shirt has since been lost to the landfill, because my Christian mother took it upon herself to dispose of it the first opportunity she got. Needless to say, our relationship is not very good.

After that, I even managed to get that Roadrunner compilation album they were giving out signed. The band was staying at the Carlton. Unfortunately, Joey wasn't there, neither was Clown, and Mick was swarmed by guitar nerds so, 6/9 it is. It is a great regret of mine that I'll never have anything signed by him, nor will I ever get to see him perform ever again.

The next day, I went to school, my head swimming. Yes, I went to see Slipknot ON A SCHOOL NIGHT. I was a giant bruise, from my ribs and my chest, to my hips and knees, from being slammed into the barricade like a screen door in a hurricane. Most of all, my sore, headbanged-out neck could barely hold my head up. Classmates thought I had been in a fight. I was torn between battle-scarred exhaustion and hyperactive ranting about the most amazing gig of my short life (it still is, to this day). When teachers spoke to me, I wanted to reply, "Fuck trigonometry! I've just seen SLIPKNOT. Do you not understand that my world is different? Do you not understand that *I* am now different?"

My country was a small, conservative town that Slipknot had graced with their unholy presence. Corey Taylor once said that where he grew up in Iowa had a way of making a 16 year old boy feel like a 36 year old man (or something to that effect). I felt that in my weary bones as a teenager, being from a place just like that. Years later, Watain would run into worse trouble, and wouldn't even be allowed to perform. The Christian stranglehold is stronger than ever. It was a good thing that back then Slipknot had the element of surprise, striking serpent-fast and choking this society by the neck for a too-brief time, before they departed.

After that, my desire to play the drums only grew like a weed. Joey Jordison had, has, and will always inspire me as a drummer, and seeing the beast live (or what little I could spy behind the massive riser) had only spurred me on. I had always been a noisemaker, be it driving my parents mad with chopsticks on pots and pans, or driving my teachers mad with pencils on my desk. But of course, my parents wouldn't have any of it. I'd have to wait a good 14 more years before I'd be able to afford lessons and later, a kit of my own. Better late than never, right?

There will never be enough words to describe the impact Joey has had on my life. And it isn't just Slipknot, either. I could write another essay on his time with the Murderdolls and its influence on my own gender-non-conforming ways. Suffice to say, my wardrobe doesn't look too dissimilar to his during the early Dead in Hollywood days.

I told my boss I could not come into work today. I was grieving. I said that my music teacher died, as I didn't think she'd understand the magnitude of my loss. In a way, it's true. And I am not the only one Joey has nudged on the path to being a musician, that much is certain. To the rest of us, I wish strength and love for you in this difficult time. The best way to honour Joey, who truly loved music, both the creation and appreciation of it, is to pass that gift on. Teach it to someone. He is the reason I picked up the sticks in the first place, and one day, they'll be handed on, the heavy metal baton for the next generation.

And finally: remember that the ones we have lost are never truly gone.

Vinnie

P.S. See if you can spot me in the crowd photos in this post!

#Joey Jordison #Slipknot #Murderdolls

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hongism · 4 years

Text

mists of celeste ➻ twenty

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 4.7k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

act three ➻ part two

“You suck at this game,” you mutter, glancing over Jongho’s shoulder to see his hand of cards again.

“What? You can do better?” He scoffs in response and pulls his cards close to his chest. You shrug, propping an elbow up on the table and looking over to where Wooyoung and Yeosang sit. Both have cards in their hands as well, and Wooyoung keeps trying to sneak a glance at the other man’s hand, but Yeosang just moves further and further away from him. Jongho clears his throat and sits up a bit straighter as he continues to talk to you. “I’ll have you know that I am the best out of the whole crew. Unbeatable.”

“Well, damn. Everyone must be fucking horrible if you’re the best.” You crack a small smile, looking over at Jongho out the corner of your eye. He puts a hand over his chest.

“Excuse me–”

“You’re excused.”

“You’re jealous,” he counters through your childish remark.

“What exactly am I supposed to be jealous of? A bad poker skill?”

“Hey! It’s poker. It’s not like I get to choose what cards I get. It’s not even skill-based!”

“Then how are you the best? You just happen to have good luck?”

“No, I – listen. I have the best poker face, and I can lie better than anyone else on the crew.”

“Should you be proud of that?” You inquire, scrunching your nose up as you squint at Jongho. He opens his mouth to retort but snaps it shut a moment later. His expression is a bit dumbfounded, and he stares at the table with a small glare, seeming to realize your point. You manage to hold back your laugh, but Wooyoung doesn’t even try – a bright and noisy laugh resounding as he watches your exchange.

“You know it’s bad when Yeosang is winning,” Wooyoung says through a sigh. Yeosang casts a half-hearted glare at the man, but Wooyoung ignores him in favor of continuing to complain. “Why are you even winning? Out of everyone, you are the worst at poker. How am I losing to you? It’s one thing to lose to Jongho, but you? This is embarrassing.”

“You can’t lie, Woo.” Yeosang clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and continues to thumb through his hand of cards. “You turn beet red and start stuttering. I’m content with winning now. Break the losing streak.”

Wooyoung folds his lips into a frown, mocking Yeosang’s smug expression a bit as he looks through his own cards. “Break the losing streak. Content with winning. May as well just say ‘I’m better than you, Wooyoung.’”

“I wouldn’t say that. Maybe Y/N is my good luck charm.” Yeosang shifts his gaze over to you, one corner of his lips pulling upwards as he looks over you. You huff and glare back at him. You don’t make a habit of speaking to Yeosang, especially since he threatened you back on Medra and fucking choked you, but you also can’t bring yourself to trust his unknown motives. He maintains a certain level of teasing and playfulness, but all your one-on-one interactions have shown that attitude to be a farce.

“I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you,” you retort.

“Hey, I thought I was your good luck charm,” Wooyoung whines, lips pouting out as he turns to Yeosang. Yeosang lifts a hand and pats Wooyoung’s cheek lightly. His gaze is softer than usual, but it quickly turns teasing again when he speaks next.

“You’ve never helped me win poker though.”

Wooyoung throws his cards on the table and shakes his head.

“Is there really nothing better to do? I’m bored out of my mind.”

“We’re on a spaceship, Woo. If you have any bright ideas of what there is to do on a spaceship in the middle of space, I would love to know what those ideas are,” Yeosang remarks, picking up Wooyoung’s thrown cards one by one. Jongho passes his cards over as well, although he is a lot more gentle than Wooyoung was.

“We’re actually not in space anymore.” Wooyoung jabs a finger at Yeosang’s chin and catches the man on the lip instead. Yeosang swats his hand away with a small grimace, but you can tell that Wooyoung’s antics don’t bother him too much. “We’ve already landed on Kebos. We’re just waiting for Captain and the others to do whatever it is they need to do.”

It’s been a few days since your awkward panic attack in the training room, but the mention of Kebos still makes you tense up, and your breath catches a bit in your throat. Jongho notes the way your shoulders lift, and his hand reaches down to the bench between you two, brushing over your knuckles just enough. You shift to look at him, lips pressed tight together, but he doesn’t look back at you. Instead, he keeps his eyes forward on Yeosang and Wooyoung as they continue their conversation.

“Stop being a smartass, Woo.”

“I’m not being a smartass!”

“You’ll get your ass beat if you aren’t careful,” Yeosang threatens, shaking his head a little while continuing to organize the deck of cards.

“You could never lay a finger on me. You love me too much.” Wooyoung crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back to grin smugly at Yeosang. The blond doesn’t even look at him before swinging his fist into Wooyoung’s arm.

“Hey!” Wooyoung exclaims, pulling away from Yeosang and rubbing at the spot where he was hit. “Ow? What was that for?”

“You said I wouldn’t hit you.”

“I didn’t mean for you to actually hit me though…” Wooyoung pouts and slaps Yeosang’s arm in return.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt? I didn’t do any actual damage, did I?”

“Ha! I knew you were soft for me!”

Yeosang huffs at Wooyoung’s accusation but neglects to counter again, letting Wooyoung bask in his victory (if it can even be called a success). You sit up straight as movement flashes across the edge of your vision. Seonghwa and San step into the mess hall side by side, both out of their casual clothes and armed with two pistols each. Jongho slides closer to you to make room for them, but Seonghwa puts a hand up and shakes his head a little.

“We aren’t staying. We’ll be heading out with Captain in a few minutes. Jongho, would you go take inventory in the cargo hold with Mingi later.”

“Sure thing, Lieutenant. Consider it done.”

“We should be back shortly, but this will most likely take a few days. Maybe a week at most. Captain wants to scope out possible recruits for the crew.”

“Why all of a sudden like this?” Yeosang cuts in, leaving the deck of cards forgotten under his fingers. Seonghwa glances over at him with wide eyes. A small smile takes over his lips.

“Hongjoong will explain in time.”

“In time?” Yeosang scoffs. “So never.”

“He’s going to explain in time, Yeosang. If you expect me to tell you now, you’re sorely mistaken, so I would suggest you keep your mouth shut and wait for the captain to address it later.” Seonghwa levels Yeosang with a glare, the soft demeanor slipping away from his features, and for a moment, all you see is the Lieutenant of Death. Yeosang’s jaw shifts, but he doesn’t say anything else. “Y/N, could I borrow you for a second?” You become the focus of Seonghwa’s stare, but the fury in his eyes drops away as he looks at you.

“Y-Yeah, sure.” You push yourself up from the bench, stepping behind Seonghwa as he starts to walk towards a separate table. You turn to glance over at San, who takes your seat beside Jongho with a delicate frown pasted on his features. Even when you sit down beside Seonghwa, you can spot San over the lieutenant’s shoulder. He looks back at you, eyes lingering and watching, but as soon as he sees that you’re doing the same, he dips his chin towards the table in front of him instead.

“San is worried about coming along,” Seonghwa explains, noticing your stare. “Yeosang is going to be guarding the main airlock, and San doesn’t trust Yeosang, so… he’s not too happy about the situation.”

“Ah,” you exhale.

“All other airlocks are going to be locked down and sealed tight. I want you to go to the cargo hold with Jongho and Mingi. If anything does happen – which we doubt – both will be there to protect you and keep anything from happening to you. The military isn’t in this sector where we’ve landed, but just for extra precautions, Hongjoong reserved a private docking station. So only people with certain keycards can get into the bay, just the three of us who are leaving. The doors will lock once we’re gone. Yeosang won’t stay in one place the whole time, but he’ll be patrolling the corridors closest to the main airlock. San and I – we have orders from Hongjoong to return to the ship immediately if anything happens. Our location won’t be as far away as it was when we were in Echidna, so we’ll be able to return quicker than before. Nothing should get through Yeosang, Jongho, and Mingi though. How does that sound?”

You’re so immersed in listening to what Seonghwa is saying that you don’t realize he’s asked you a question until a couple seconds after he’s finished speaking.

“A-Ah, yes, that’s sounds… good. Great. Yeah.” You must still seem anxious and on-edge because Seonghwa’s brows furrow together.

“Do you trust us, Y/N?”

“I trust you. Not Hongjoong.”

Seonghwa dips his head and laughs through his nose. “That’s why I came up with the plan and not Hongjoong.” He glances over to where San is sitting, and with a deep sigh, he pulls himself back to his feet. “It’s time to go.”

Seonghwa says the words loud enough for San to hear as well, and the latter gets up, immediately looking over to where you’re still sitting at the table. You press a smile across your lips, one that San returns in an instant.

“Don’t do anything I would do,” you say as you stand up, moving back over to where Jongho and the others are seated.

“So, avoid doing something stupid?” San teases.

“Haha. Very funny,” you scoff. The second you’re within arm’s length of San, you reach out to smack his shoulder.

“Ow, hey, I’m fragile!”

“Fragile? Choi San, I–”

“You could break me,” San whines, shying away from your arm as you threaten to hit him again.

“I’ll hit you harder,” you sigh.

“Kinky,” he whispers back. He dodges your quickly-swung arm again, a snicker leaving his lips as he goes to join Seonghwa at the edge of the room. “We won’t keep you guys waiting long!”

“Watch them come back in three days,” Jongho mutters as Seonghwa and San leave the mess hall, and you slide back into your seat. He purses his lips at you when you sit down, brows raised high, and you narrow your eyes in response.

“What’s that look for?”

“Nothing.” Jongho shrugs and looks away from you. Yeosang huffs a laugh though, and that’s enough to tell you that it is far from nothing. At least Wooyoung looks just as clueless and confused as you. “I’m gonna go take care of inventory now rather than later.” Jongho slides off the bench. You sigh but get up as well, sending a half-hearted glare at Jongho’s head since he waited for you to sit down to announce his departure.

“Are you going with, Y/N?” Wooyoung asks. He watches you get up, eyes wide and questioning, and you nod at him. “Why? Didn’t Seonghwa ask Mingi and Jongho to take care of it?”

“Uh, yeah, I just want to figure out how to do it. For the future. If I need to.”

“Stop putting your foot in your mouth,” Jongho sighs. “It’s embarrassing.”

“That might be impossible,” Yeosang snorts.

“Hahaha, so funny.” You sneer and pass a glare in Yeosang’s direction, then turn away, so you don’t have to see his cocky expression any longer. “I hate him,” you mutter once you and Jongho are out of the dining hall. Jongho laughs under his breath.

“He’ll grow on you. Maybe.”

“I doubt it.”

“He does seem to enjoy infuriating you.”

“Wow, I feel so special.” You walk in step with Jongho even though you don’t know the way to the cargo bay. “I haven’t been back in the cargo bay since I first got on the ship.” You hadn’t intended to say the words out loud, but they slip out anyway, and Jongho glances at you out the corner of his eye.

“I find it funny, you know. I did the same thing as you when I first got on the ship.”

“You were a stowaway?” Somewhere in the back of your mind, you vaguely remember something – maybe Yunho? – mentioning Jongho being in a similar situation as you were, but the memory is too hazy for you to think about.

“Yep.” Jongho pops the syllable with a smile, bringing a hand up to run through his dark hair. “I was just trying to get free passage to a different planet. I had worked in a bar as a work mule on Dorado. Not too long, maybe only a couple months, but I heard lots of rumors and things while there. Captain and Seonghwa came through one day, and I overheard them talking about going to Aegos for a quick warehouse raid, then to Mensa. I was trying to get to Mensa, so I snuck aboard the ship and hid in the cargo bay. When we got to Aegos and retrieved the cargo, they brought San back. And he immediately found me hiding in the cargo bay. Sound familiar?”

“Well, I made it four days, so…”

“Are you bragging about how you were dying in a crate for four days?”

“I’m just saying I stayed hidden longer than you did!” You counter.

“I – hey, I’m a lot bigger and harder to hide than you are! Do I look like I can fit in a fucking crate?”

“Do you think I just look at people and think ‘oh they look like they would fit in a crate’? That sounds like a psychopath.”

“Listen, I was in that cargo bay for a full week. A week! I was only caught because of San! And the rest of the crew at the time were kinda… slow and didn’t notice a lot.”

“Right, yeah, if that makes you feel better.”

“I think I lose a year of my life every time I talk to you,” Jongho grumbles. You scoff and elbow him in the side.

“Don’t make me take more off right now.”

“Would you let me finish my story maybe? Please?” You lift your hands, dragging your thumb and index finger over your lips to show your silence for Jongho. He shakes his head ever so slightly at your antics, but continues with his story nonetheless. “Where was I? Oh yeah, San found me. He didn’t tell Captain about it, but he managed to sneak some food for me quite often, and he would talk to me a lot while he was there. Probably because he was new to the crew and didn’t really like chatting with new people at the time. Maybe it was easier to talk to me since I was a stowaway. But anyway, I asked him to tell me when the ship reached Mensa, and San said he would. He also offered to help smuggle me off the ship when we got there. Two days before we landed on Mensa, Captain came down and caught San talking to me. He made a comment about finally seeing the stowaway resting in his ship, so it turns out he knew I was there the whole time. San asked him not to hurt me since I was only around fifteen at the time. I was a “kid” or something. Captain said he never intended to hurt me in the first place, but he knew I was trying to get to Mensa because the barkeep I worked for was a bit loose-lipped. “

“Does Hongjoong recruit every stowaway on the ship?” You inquire, only have serious, and Jongho chuckles a bit.

“He seems to have a track record for that, doesn’t he?”

“Okay, but why Mensa? There are many other arguably nicer planets you could’ve gone to.”

“Not a fan of the desert and the scalding heat that will melt the skin off your face? Wow, I figured that would be your favorite kind of weather!”

“Oh yeah, absolutely. It’s actually my favorite right behind poisonous swamps and fumes that will choke you out in less than a minute!”

“Damn, that’s a good one,” Jongho whispers, looking up at the ceiling. “I’m gonna use that one on Yeosang next time he acts like a smartass.”

“I thought that was constant.” Jongho snorts and rubs at the skin between his eyes. You laugh as well, proud of your little remark, then Jongho answers your initial question.

“I supposedly have family on Mensa. Somewhere in that god-forsaken heat. Eventually I’ll ask Captain if we can go there. I would like to meet the family I have there, but right now, I don’t think I can.”

“Why not?” You ask, but it feels like you’re beginning to tread on eggshells, because Jongho looks off at the wall as the two of you walk. His eyes glaze over a little bit. For a moment, you think he’s just going to ignore your question and carry on in silence.

“Things have changed over time,” he says at last. His steps slow to a halt, and you come to a stop beside him. The cargo bay lays ahead of the two of you, but Jongho doesn’t go in quite yet. “It’s been seven years since I joined the crew, and I was young at the time. Not very mature or grown-up. Lots of things have changed now that I think about it. Some things happened in the past that I need to work through and confront. I should take care of that before meeting the family I have on Mensa.”

You want to inquire further, mostly on account of your curiosity, but also because it seems to be an odd goal to have. You don’t get the chance to ask though.

“Oh, Mingi! You’re already here!” Jongho exclaims, lips stretching into a wide smile. You jerk your head forward and find the tall Berserker standing in front of you. His stature alone is intimidating, but the blank void in his dark eyes serves to be far worse. You swallow the sudden lump that has arisen in your throat. He looks you over from head to toe. The lack of emotion in his expression doesn’t sit well with you, and you hold your breath until he turns around, a huff of air leaving his lungs as he steps further into the cargo bay without a word.

Jongho is altogether unfazed by the odd encounter between you and Mingi. When you glance up at him with inquiry in your eyes, he merely shrugs and moves closer to the wall.

“Is he in a bad mood or something?” You mutter, eyeing Mingi’s back as he walks further away. Jongho releases a loud laugh, and you want to smack him upside the head because Mingi most definitely heard that laugh, and you would rather not get on the bad side of a Berserker who could crush you in an instant.

“Mingi doesn’t have moods,” Jongho answers. He grabs something off the wall – a tablet from the looks of it – and taps away at the screen until it lights up. “At all. Or emotions in general. Well, no. He has emotions, but he doesn’t know how to show them or anything like that. Doesn’t understand what they are. That kinda thing, you know?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I – you’re so dry.”

“No, I really don’t understand!” You retort.

Jongho laughs, walking further into the cargo bay, and you trail after him. He works opposite Mingi; both men log cargo with matching paces, and you don’t want to disturb Jongho while he works, so you just look around the bay with little interest. Nothing is interesting about crates upon crates of goods. Your gaze keeps slipping back to Mingi’s form though. Everything about him appears to be normal, but something about those eyes is unsettling and strikes fear in your stomach.

You wait until Jongho wraps around the back of some crates, eyes peeking out to make sure that Mingi is out of earshot before moving back to Jongho to ask him a few questions.

“Can you tell me a bit about Mingi?”

He lifts an eyebrow but continues to work as though you didn’t say anything.

“Please?” A hesitant sigh escapes him, and you worry that you’re prying too much for a few seconds, but Jongho dispels that concern with his next words.

“Sure, what do you want to know?”

“Anything. I can’t understand him, and I’ve never really interacted with him. Compared to the other crewmembers, that is…”

“Right, yeah. That’s how it is when people meet Mingi for the first time.” Jongho nods, continuing his work as he speaks. “Mingi’s personality is hard to read. I mean, he seems simple, but there’s a lot of facets to him. He does anything Captain tells him to. Likes to watch Yunho work and listen to him talk about medical and philosophical shit. Talks to him a lot about emotions and understanding them better. Since Berserkers absorb emotional auras, he struggles a lot with keeping his emotions in check and not absorbing too much from the people around him. I’m better about controlling that only because my parents taught me how to as I grew up. And even if I’m not able to control it, they taught me how to keep it in and not let the aggression break through. Mingi can’t do that. He’s very much a loose cannon with little control. Innocent in a way because he doesn’t understand emotions, but brutal and harsh. Moreso than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s the way he was programmed though, and it’s hard to rewire something like that, especially a Berserker.”

“But… how did he get to be like that?” You ask, keeping your eyes on said man across the bay. He works in a rhythmic and robotic manner, almost like he isn’t quite human.

“Do you know the nickname the military has for him?”

“I-I – uh, no, I didn’t – didn’t keep track of everyone. I honestly only knew of Hongjoong and Seonghwa. Yeosang through word of mouth more than anything. But no one else.”

“He’s called the Brute of Kebos.”

You snap your head towards Jongho as you process the words. Jongho doesn’t look back at you, however, he continues to tap away at his tablet, glancing between the screen and the crates in front of him every once in a while.

“For six years, he fought in an arena here on Kebos before they were outlawed. He would win every single time. Every fight. Flawless record. By the time he was sixteen, he was at the top of everyone’s bet lists and at the top of the arena, which was expected because his father was in charge of the arena. He had won countless matches and beaten plenty of people. Kill after kill. Apparently, he was always eager to fight and kill. He was taught that people die every day, so no life is valuable or worthy of mercy. Death is natural, and it isn’t wrong to end someone’s life even if they’ve done nothing wrong. His body count… it’s unimaginable.”

You swallow roughly, and the sound seems to echo in your ears. It’s so loud that Jongho must hear it, but he doesn’t comment.

“Wh-Why would Hongjoong keep such a loose cannon on the crew?” You ask in attempts to recover a bit of a calm demeanor.

“He’s useful in certain situations and on certain missions. Doesn’t complain or anything like that either, which must be nice for Captain.” Jongho hesitates and lifts his chin. His gaze doesn’t focus on the crates this time. “Things haven’t been the same since the last incident though.”

“What do you mean? What incident?”

Jongho recovers in an instant, eyes growing wide, and he shakes his head to refocus on the tablet in his hands.

“What incident? No one said anything about an incident. There’s no incident.”

“You’re so bad at lying, Choi Jo–”

A crash interrupts you. Jongho drops the tablet and lunges forward. His hand grips your hip tightly, and he pushes you behind his body as he looks out towards where Mingi just was. You can’t see past his broad shoulders, but there is an undeniable spike of tension in the room now. Jongho’s stance is defensive – almost like he’s trying to shield you or protect you in some way.

“Mingi?” He calls out, tone hesitant and wary. His whole body is rigid before you, a stark contrast to your trembling hands and racing heart.

“Sorry, I knocked something over.” Mingi’s tone is cool and flat. There is no aggression in it, and that seems to calm Jongho down some.

“Carry on then,” Jongho says with a nod. His hand leaves your hip, shoulders relaxing back to their normal state, and you step out from behind him to examine Mingi. He wears a strained and awkward smile, and Jongho’s right – there is a strong sense of innocence about his actions. He moves back behind the crates before you can stare any longer.

“You thought he was going to hurt me, didn’t you?” You state when Jongho turns back to face you. His eyes drag over your features, then he shakes his head a few times.

“That’s only part of it,” he mutters, stooping to pick up the tablet he dropped. “The incident I mentioned… one of the crew died by Mingi’s hands during it. I was the only one there when it happened, and I couldn’t stop Mingi. I guess it’s just – just another burden of guilt that I have to bear.”

Another? You note, eyes narrowing on Jongho. He motions back towards the crates without paying your expression any mind.

“We should finish this up. I want to get back to playing poker so I can kick your ass. You’re playing the next round since I showed you how to play the first time.”

You scoff at his cheeky remark. “I’ll show you how to play since you’re so fucking awful at it. The only thing I learned from watching you was how to be bad.”

“Ouch, those are bold words. That’s something to look forward to then. It’ll be like when we spar. You talking big, then me inevitably planting you on your ass every single time.”

“Okay, for the record, I let you win. Men have fragile egos, and you need to be preserved, Jongho. What kind of person would I be if I destroyed that fragile ego?”

“Oh, so you’re being gracious then?”

“I’m letting you feel good about yourself.”

“Well then, maybe I’ll let you win poker so that you can feel good about yourself. How about that?”

You don’t respond; instead, you merely shake your head and roll your eyes a bit. There’s a bit of levity in the air now, one that you welcome with open arms. It’s been too long since you’ve been able to let yourself joke around like this with other people, casting your worries to the side and letting things happen. It sends you back to a small room on Eros, one full of six wide-eyed recruits all falling under the guidance of one Han Jisung, and for once, you relive the memory with a sense of peace in your mind.

✧✧✧ a/n: oh yeah it’s all coming together everything is coming together ;) okay but fr i hope you guys enjoy this part, it’s a bit more lighthearted and quite a bit of a break compared to our regular angst, but y’all deserve a break for putting up with my angsty ass 💆‍♀️ i hope you enjoyed learning more about our resident berserkers 🤧 next chapter things are heating up 👁👄👁

taglist: @faeriewoobin @sugarrimajins @atinyinwonderland @2504-life @lil7bluedragon @sparklychangbin @jeong-uwu @jeonartemis @anothershorthuman @xxbluestrifexx @yayhei @haotheheckk @noonawriter @lostscenarios @nlost21 @mirror-juliet if you would like to be added to the tag list, feel free to ask!

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trashyswitch · 3 years

Text

The Adorable Slimy Stranger

Chapter 3: Logan and Remus's Demise

Pumpkin seeks to make the collected Logan and the overly weird Remus become giggly babies under her tickly grasp. And boy, does she succeed!

SPOILERS FOR THE NEWEST EPISODE OF SANDERS ASIDES!The Episode: Working THROUGH Intrusive Thoughts If you haven't watched it, PLEASE watch the new video for context.

This triquel is also for PumpkinPaw! :D

Pumpkin was walking around, eagerly teasing everyone she could. She wiggled her fingers at Patton, earning a giggle and a few cuddles. She wiggled her fingers at Virgil, earning a squeak and a hood over his head. Lastly, Pumpkin wiggled her fingers at Roman, earning a big squeal and a big bear hug from Roman.

But Logan...didn’t react. He just placed his hand on Pumpkin and gently moved Pumpkin’s hands away. “Sorry Pumpkin, I’m just a little busy today. Your childish endeavors are going to have to wait.” Logan told the blob.

Pumpkin looked at Logan with big, black puppy eyes. Her lip even quivered slightly to add to the cuteness.

“Awwww, how could you ignore that cute widdle face?!” Patton asked.

“Pumpkin is a dear. However, she is also a little too distracting for my liking. So I would like to keep peace by kindly saying no to her motherly teases and cuddles.” Logan told him, talking way too casually about pumpkin.

“Jealousy is unlike you.” Janus told him.

Logan looked at Janus with confusion. “Jealousy? Explain, please.” Logan ordered calmly.

“Jealousy is a strange emotion for anyone, especially Logan. I find myself a little conflicted to see Logan acting soooo calm.” Janus reacted calmly. “It would almost be surprising to see you...crack open~” Janus hinted.

“Janus, I am a very black and white individual. I do not have hidden spots in my personality that quote on quote ‘crack’ open. And you will be treated with nothing if you even tried to ‘crack’ me open.” Logan told him.

“Ohh sure~” Janus teased. “Then you wouldn’t have an issue at all, if Pumpkin were to tickle your sensitive spots right now.” Janus hinted.

Pumpkin’s head shot up, sprouting puppy ears that lifted up curiously.

“Hey Pumpkin~” Janus called. “Logan is quite ticklish, and you would find his laughter quite amusing.” Janus told him. “All nerds have cute laughter.” Janus added.

Pumpkin gurgled eagerly and slid right over to Logan. “Nope.” Logan stopped the slobbery blob from going any closer. “Unnecessary. You know the rules, Pumpkin.” Logan told the blob.

Pumpkin gurgled and slid her gelatin bits through his hands and surrounded his arm in an orange blob as she moved closer to Logan. She gurgled happily.

“Nooooo...Don’t even think about it, Pumpkin.” He warned.

Pumpkin gurgled and walked away. Then, she ran up and fluttered her pseudopod onto Logan’s side.

“eeEEK! Pumpkin-” Logan warned.

“Yeah! get Logan, Pumpa!” Patton encouraged.

“No, DON’T get Logan! I am way too busy to get caught by a gelatinous monster!” Logan warned.

The little blob gurgled more and more as she let off nostalgic smells to calm him down.

“No, no, NO. Your childish endeavours will NOT overwhelm me! Your nostalgic smells that replicate Patton’s cookies will not cause me joy! It won’t!” Logan warned.

“Oh really now, Logan?” Patton teased.

Now Pumpkin looked very determined to get Logan to laugh, or even smile.

“Pumpkin, you are sorely mistaken to make me laugh. I will not laugh. I only laugh out of pity.” Logan warned.

“No you don’t! You have a cute laugh!” Patton protested.

“No I don’t! I have an ugly laugh! Much like my face!” Logan shot back.

Patton GASPED. “Did you just...talk bad about yourself?!” Patton asked.

“Yes. I did. It is not that surprising.” Logan told him.

Patton smirked and ran to Logan’s side. “Here Pumpa!” Patton pulled his arm up above his head. “Get his armpit!”

Logan shrieked and pulled on his arm. “NO! NO! PATTON PLEASE!” Logan begged.

Pumpkin jiggled her pods inside Logan’s underarms. This made Logan wheeze in surprise and jump about 5 feet in the air. But he didn’t laugh...Not yet.

“Come on Logan...Laugh for us! You’ll feel better if you do!” Patton encouraged.

“N-No!” Logan begged, hoping and praying he would give up soon.

Patton giggled and blew a raspberry on his belly. Logan snorted and threw his head back. “STAAAAAAAP!” Logan shouted.

Pumpkin started to take notice of something in his eyes. Something...unusual. But eager to see what it was, Pumpkin blew little raspberries onto Logan’s armpit.

Logan finally snorted and bursted out laughing. “STAHAhahahahahahap! Ihihihihit tihihihicklehehes! Plehehehehease!” Logan begged.

Pumpkin gasped and stared at Logan with awe in her eyes. She quickly went back to tickling Logan in a matter of seconds. She even tickled his neck and his ribs with even more pseudopods!

Logan tried to get out of her grip as quickly as possible. He feared he might’ve already shown the SCP something that he’s been keeping secret for years! Logan begged and hoped that Pumpkin didn’t see it.

Pumpkin smiled and gurgled as she cuddled Logan tightly and continued tickling Logan on his sides, belly, neck, and ribs.

Logan SCREAMED and cackled loudly! “AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! PUMPAHAHAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAHAHAP IHIHIHIHIHIHIT!” Logan screamed and laughed.

Logan’s eyes were glowing orange...almost like an anime character.

Patton widened his eyes and stared at him in surprise. “Logan...Your eyes!”

“Oh what a surprise…” Janus reacted calmly, flipping a page.

Logan gasped and covered his eyes. Pumpkin looked at Logan and patted his shoulder. She made worried gurgle sounds.

“No. No I’m not okay. This was what I was worried about.”

“Oh what a tragedy…your eyes glow! How terrifying!” Janus reacted in the most monotone voice ever.

“JANUS!” Logan yelled.

“I don’t understand-”

“And you never WILL!” A voice said from behind. Remus giggled and showed Patton his big mace covered in blood.

“YOU!” Patton shouted.

“Oooooh! Think you can do something to-” Remus yelped as he felt something hard hit his head.

“Take THAT! And THAT!” Patton was throwing something at the dark creative side.

“OW! OW! HARD COVER-” Remus caught one of the books and shrieked. “BIBLES?!” Remus screamed.

“I’VE GOT 20 MORE READY FOR YOU!” Patton shouted.

“OH FUCK!”

“LANGUAGE!” Patton screamed as another bible smacked him in the head.

Pumpkin gurgled in a confusing tone and looked to Logan. She got closer to Logan and hugged him tightly. Logan widened his eyes in surprise at first, but smiled as he took the hug. “It’s…it’s alright. You were only trying to cheer me up.” Logan told her.

Pumpkin smiled and wiggled her pseudopods onto Logan’s ribs and in his armpits as well. Logan jumped and laughed again, surprised by the amount of tickles Pumpkin was giving him.

“OHOHOHOKAHAHAHAHAY! YOHOHOU’RE MOHOHORE EHEHEVIHIHIL THAHAHAN UHUHUSUAHAHAL!” Logan reacted.

Pumpkin giggled a little and wiggled her fingers with a coo. She fluttered her pseudopods on the belly as well as his hips and chin to find other ticklish spots.

Logan giggled and wiggled around. His hips didn’t really tickle all that much, but his chin was making him do the giggle giggles. Pumpkin loved hearing Logan’s different volumes of laughter. It was new and refreshing to see Logan so vulnerable and giggly under the cute little blob.

Soon, Pumpkin cuddled herself closer to Logan than she ever had before. She hugged him, cuddled him, tickle him lightly and kissed his cheek. Logan didn’t know how to handle all the love he was getting, or any of the giddy happiness he was feeling from all the love as well. Pumpkin was really a genius at making anyone fall victim to the cackles.

“Ihihi wanna see Remus experience this.” Logan admitted.

Remus looked up from picking his nose. “Huh?” He hummed.

Logan picked up Pumpkin and showed him to Remus. “Hey Remus! Feast your eyes on the most happy go lucky being to ever exist. Though Patton is a super close second compared to this creature we call Pumpkin.” Logan told him.

“Logan, NO! Keep that powerful thing away from me! EEP! Fluff! It’s evil!” Remus shrieked, hiding behind Roman.

“Come on Remus...It’s not that bad.” Roman told him.

“Yes it is! It’s the most happy being to exist! And it’ll make me more fluffy and happy than even deodorant will ever make me!” Remus begged.

“Do you have something against being happy?” Logan asked.

Roman showed up in the background. “He thinks it makes him weak!”

“Yes! That is the exact problem.” Remus replied.

“We won’t judge you for being happy…If anything, we’ll encourage your happy mood.” Logan told him.

“I...But being happy is so...exhausting!” Remus complained.

“When it is forced happiness, yes. But when it is genuine, it feels completely free.” Logan told him.

Remus narrowed his eyes at him and showed his teeth at the man.

Logan finally placed Pumpkin onto Remus. “You’ll feel euphoric...like being drunk without the alcohol.” Logan told him.

Remus lit up brightly at that explanation. He had to admit: that sounded great!

Remus kneeled down to the floor and laid down so Pumpkin could access him better. Pumpkin happily took this as a sign to ‘get tickling’, and quickly made 8 separate pseudopods. Remus immediately widened his eyes and started to wiggle around out of nervousness. As you could probably tell, he was already growing nervous of the tickles he was gonna get.

The moment the 8 pseudopods hit Remus’s ticklish spots, Remus broke right open with literally no resistance. All the laughter came out at once!

“WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! WHOHOHOHOHOA! THIHIHIHIS IHIHIHIS-” Remus reacted as he curled up like a big turtle. It made him wanna scream with joy! It made him wanna do cartwheels around the house! It made him crave those gorey zombie TV shows again!

“THIHIHIS IHIHIHIS AMAHAHAHAHAZIHIHING!” Remus declared.

Logan smiled and adjusted his glasses. “Precisely. I experienced the same glee and irresistible euphoria.”

Remus rolled around all over the floor, laughing himself stupid beyond his expectations. This was more ticklish than what Roman was capable of! This creature really WAS the best tickler! Everything about the creature was true! It was the best tickler, the cutest little thing, and even the most puppy-like! Remus would even say...Pumpkin was a big gift to their life.

The smell of fresh fudge filled Remus’s nose as he was tickled. Who was baking fudge at this time? Or...maybe it was Pumpkin being nostalgic.

“LOHOHOHO IHIHIT’S SOHOHOHO MUHUHUCH! HEHEHEHELP MEHEHEHEHE!”

Logan blinked and watched in surprise. Wow...Remus was super ticklish...But Pumpkin was smart enough to know when to stop. And Pumpkin was not stopping. She just kept on going and going.

Remus seemed to be loving it more than enough. I guess Remus liked his tickles neverending!

Soon, the blob wiped off some ‘sweat’ from her forehead dramatically before returning to tickling Remus. Logan found this rather humorous, considering the fact that Pumpkin had no sweat, and was made of gelatin and smooth peanut butter. The drama behind the sweat rub made the moment even better!

Soon though, Remus’s laughter turned silent. Quite silent. When his laughter hit that point, Pumpkin took that as a sign to stop. Pumpkin returned the pseudopods to her body and lifted Remus up to a sitting position with her pods alone. Remus huffed and breathed heavily with little giggles still leftover. Gosh, Pumpkin looked like she wanted to eat up all those giggles. His laughter was a brand new treat for the orange blob!

Eager to show her love, Pumpkin lifted herself up and molded herself into the shape of a heart. Remus gasped and squealed upon seeing the heart. “AWWWWW! THANK YOOOU!” Remus declared. He was a lot more happy and giddy than usual. Must’ve been more than enough euphoria still in his system. Remus pulled Pumpkin into a big hug and planted big, mustachy kisses all over the blob. Pumpkin seemed rather overwhelmed by the kisses, but quickly warmed up to the loving gesture the longer Remus pecked its face.

After Pumpkin was let go, Pumpkin giggled at herself. She was covered in kissy lips and mustache hair from all the Remus pecks. He was certainly a weird, but bold man! And pumpkin started to understand that better, the longer she got to know Remus.

Not only did she get to hear Remus at his most vulnerable, but he even got to hear LOGAN at his most vulnerable! HOW COOL WAS THAT?!

Logan was always a calm, put together person with all the self control in the world. But just like SCP-682, Pumpkin was able to make even the angriest and most collected people laugh. ANd boy, was that a true gift!

#tickle fic #tooth rotting fluff #family fluff #ler!999 #switch!logan #lee!remus #ts spoilers

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